#unsure what to tag this... does this need tags? lol

[voughtint]

Black noir x male supe reader perchance.... (pls :3)

Pairing : Black Noir X male reader.

Genre : Fluff.

Tag : SFW.

Summary : You forgot your umbrella. He doesn’t need his that badly.

Authors note : If you'd like this done with Black Noir II, or you'd like this to be NSFW, feel free to request again! (With, I’m begging, more specifics, lol.)

Content warnings : Reader gives Black Noir a “kiss” at the end, reader calls Black Noir “kitty” at the end.

It’s raining. The day had already surrendered to the persistent drumbeat of a (not so summer) summer shower. The usual harsh geometries of the parking lot softened under the veil of rain, transformed into a moody, introspective landscape. Gone were the sharp lines of individual parking spaces, blurred now by a slick, dark sheen. And, like the best supe out there, you forgot your umbrella. Did you read the email saying to bring an extra layer? Maybe. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s not like Vought cares if you’re soaking wet. You know who does care, though? Your PR manager. You’re going to hear it from him later. What do you even have to do today? Some photoshoots with the Deep, god, you’d rather not… something where you’re supposed to briefly interact with Homelander in a video. Cool.

The air, usually thick with the metallic tang of hot asphalt and exhaust fumes, was now washed clean. A fresh, earthy scent rose from the damp concrete, mingling with the faint sweetness of rain–soaked greenery from the scattered planters. Beneath it all, an almost imperceptible, yet persistent, aroma of wet metal and rubber began to emerge – the smell of countless vehicles breathing in the downpour. Nothing too miserable, considering the weather Vought has other supes running around in. The cars themselves, usually gleaming monuments to individual journeys, were now unified by their shared experience. Dark, wet surfaces reflected the overcast sky, turning each vehicle into a distorted mirror.

Headlights, some still stubbornly on, cast hazy, diffused beams that painted ephemeral streaks across the puddles. The chrome accents, usually sharp and glinting, were now muted, softened by moisture. Water streamed down windshields, creating abstract patterns that momentarily obscured the interiors, giving glimpses of empty seats or forgotten coffee cups. You’re about to start heading to the metal doors to get screened in, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. A little, tiny metal tap.

You froze, almost dropping your Vought–signed bag. You don’t want another one of the Seven hassling you for anything, not after the social rating debrief with the Deep and Homelander. Kevin likes to… go very into detail about his extremely close relationships with the sea creatures in his aquarium, but you’re unsure if he meant as friends or… something more. As much as you hate— well, hate is a strong word, it pays well… as much as you dislike being a supe, there’s the occasional moment of idiocracy from the Seven to keep you entertained.

Your grip on the bag is tighter now, as your eyes “meet” his – Black Noir. Or, his mesh eyeholes, that is. He’s the one who’d awkwardly followed you out of the meeting room and was staring off into nothing. He’s not nearly as intimidating or broody as everyone says he is. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head, looking at his hardened suit, then his mask. Tall, broad shoulders, …arms. How else can you describe a guy you can’t even see? Black Noir blinked. He’s holding out an umbrella, which is what he’d tapped you with: the metal tip.

Black Noir nodded his head, gesturing the umbrella forward. “Are you offering?” You cocked your head again, putting your hand out. He’s… well, him. Not exactly the figure you’d expect to inspire awe, not in this context. He’s not perched atop a skyscraper, not engaged in a brutal confrontation. Instead, he’s standing, rain–slicked and motionless, a stark contrast to the usual chaos that surrounds his public persona. The rain plasters his iconic black mask to his face, obscuring any expression, any hint of the formidable, terrifying assassin beneath. He’s less a towering menace and more a… presence. A quiet, unyielding sentinel in the deluge.

You smiled, more of a half–assed grin, taking the umbrella and holding it above yourself. “Thanks, Noir.” You snickered under your breath, tapping his chestplate. Black Noir stared back, not evening nodding, before turning to the building and taking a step. He waited for you to follow, turning his head back to make sure you would. You took a step, walking ahead of him instead. Black Noir walked behind you, watching your shoulders. After a moment of walking across the parking lot, you reached the doors much faster than any others (thank goodness for reserved parking.)

The colossal metal doors groaned open, a stark contrast to the drumming of rain on the outside world. You stepped through, the coldish hair clinging to your clothes as the doors sealed shut behind you with a heavy thud. The interior of Vought, even just the reception area, was a testament to its sheer scale. Polished concrete floors gleamed damply under the harsh fluorescent lights, mirroring the dreary sky you’d just left. “Come on…” you muttered, closing the umbrella as you kept walking pace with Black Noir. The air buzzed with a quiet efficiency. Vought Employees, sharp and alert, moved with a practiced calm, their eyes briefly flicking over incoming visitors as they were screened with silent professionalism.

It wasn’t an unfriendly atmosphere, but one of controlled order, a place where every movement seemed to have a purpose. Besides you, a silent, ‘imposing’ figure followed. Black Noir, his masked face inscrutable. You’re carrying his umbrella, its canopy a dark stripe against the bright, sterile interior, ensuring you remained dry from any lingering drops from your shirt. Your bag, now slung over your other shoulder, felt a little heavier with the added weight, but the shared space beside kept your attention. The rain outside seemed a world away as you stepped into the screener, nodding to a familiar employee, Adam.

You turned slightly as Black Noir walked through the side, following behind you quickly. You flashed him another smile, holding up the umbrella for him to now take. “Thanks, Noir.” You hummed, tapping the umbrella on his silica gel frames. Black Noir nodded, taking the umbrella from your hand, the leather of his suit dragging on your skin. You went to keep walking, but Black Noir followed, tucking his head in slightly when you gave him a questioning look. You rolled your eyes. Gods, he’s like a lost puppy. “Fine. Come on. Walk me to my meeting, will you?” You murmured, moving to go for the stairs, but Black Noir moved to the side to redirect you. You narrowed your eyes at him, looking where he was, noticing the elevators.

“You seriously can’t handle ten steps…?” You mumbled, more of yourself, walking into the elevator. Black Noir, unsurprisingly, didn’t respond. He stepped in behind you, pressing the ‘99’ button. Black Noir stood beside you, not moving as you leaned back against the wall. His hands interlaced above his waist, rubbing one thumb against the back of his palm. His umbrella rested against his legs, shifting every time the elevator thrummed. The interior of the elevator is sleek and modern, with a minimalist design that exudes luxury and sophistication. The walls are made of polished stainless steel, reflecting the soft glow of the embedded LED lighting, which casts a subtle, inviting ‘ambiance’.

The elevators control panel is a marvel of technology, featuring a touchscreen display that showcases the floor numbers in a crisp, high resolution font. As the doors close, the elevator begins its ascent, the hum of the machinery playing through the speakers. The elevators advanced stabilization system ensures a smooth ride, even as it navigates the dizzying heights of the Vought skyscraper. The elevators interior is equipped with a state of the art surveillance system, allowing you and Black Noir to see outside of the elevators stop as you ascend. Black Noir glanced back as you set your back down, then looked back at the screen. Just passing floor 38.

45, 57, 62…

The elevator hummed to a stop, showcasing floor 99. The doors opened, but Black Noir remained still, letting you step out first. You grabbed your bag walked out, turning your head to see Black Noirs face. When he was out, and the doors closed, you gave him a slight grin and cocked your head. You fully turned on your heels, moving forward, tilting your head up. You pressed your hand down on the umbrella, also keeping his hand down (the other snaked up, holding your arm,) he let you keep him still. He nodded his head down a peg, letting you peck a short kiss onto the nose of his mask. Black Noir pulled back, staring with his breath getting only a tad heavier.

“See you soon, kitty.” You sniggered, clutching your bag and turning, walking toward the meeting room. Black Noir watched you stride away, his umbrella falling onto the floor with a clatter.

Sourced by Vought International.

@voughtint . ©

[heymrspatel]

an ode and all my deep love and respect to some of the sculptures that inspired me, that i kept rotating around, that made it to the first, second, even third drafts, but that ultimately i did not end up using for my silly kinktober project.

the list was long, but these six kept calling back to me. the lines, the forms, the angles, the emotion, the muscle, the movement, the anger, the love. a kiss up to the sky, thanks for keeping me company!

i put so much time and research and practice into these and i just hope that came across if even just a little bit 💙

Hendricks Christian Andersen - Jacob and the Angel (1909) Auguste Rodin - Eternal Springtime (1884)

Giuseppe Giorgetti - Barberini Faun (1679) Gian Lorenzo Bernini - The Sleeping Hermaphrodite (1620)

Jean Peter Molin - The Grapplers (1862) James Pradier - Satyr and Bacchante (1834)

[kuntprodukt]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty food, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[uceyliyahh]

Overstimulation

summary: how does it feel like when Jasmine gets overstimulated by her boyfriend until she can’t take it anymore?

warnings contain: oral (f receiving), hair-pulling, vibrator, overstimulation, fluff at the end :)

word count: 1.3k

Jey Uso x Jasmine

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️ @pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @prettyfilmz

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @mzv11 @mjonthetrack @ambersinterlude @li-da-savage @sharmelasworld @shanthefemalerapper

“C’mon mamas gimmie one more baby.” Jey encouraged as he was eating out Jasmine after she had her third climax for the third time tonight.

She was unsure of her limits, her eyes rolling back in her head, nails digging into his biceps, and her legs shaking uncontrollably.

His tongue danced against her untouched core while he lavished attention on her sensitive clit, holding her firmly in place to prevent any chance of escape. She writhed and arched her back, moaning his name, pleading with him, confessing that she could no longer endure the overwhelming sensations.

However, he was not interested in any of that as she kept parting her smooth folds while pleasuring her clit, driving her to the brink of madness from the heightened sensitivity following her second climax.

As he delicately slid two fingers into her welcoming embrace, a soft gasp escaped her lips. His fingers curled expertly, playfully stimulating her g-spot, drawing out moans that filled the room as she tightened around him.

“Mhm, pussy tastes so good mamas.” Jey groaned.

“I can’t Joshua fuck…” Jasmine moaned.

She began to move her hips in reaction to his tongue and fingers, causing her to roll her eyes back in pure pleasure. Jasmine sensed her climax intensifying with every gentle pull on her clit. As he slipped in two fingers, he expertly curled them, thrusting in a consistent rhythm that wrapped her in a euphoric haze, as if she were staring at a starry night sky.

She pressed her lips together, tilting her neck back against the pillow. “Joshuaaa.”

He grinned as he pressed against her skin, his fingers skillfully exploring her g-spot, coaxing her to surrender to the surges of ecstasy from his touch. He was awakening her cravings, his warm body enveloping her throbbing core.

“I can feel her baby, c’mon coat my beard up some more.” Jey let out a low growl, causing waves of feeling to surge through her body, resonating deeply within her.

She clutched his hair tightly, rhythmically swaying her hips against his lips, while her other hand clung to the sheets as if they were her only lifeline.

“F-fuck…finna…c-cum.” Her voice was a soft murmur as he explored further with his fingers, his tongue dancing fervently, while she clutched his biceps with intensity, her impeccably manicured nails nearly piercing his skin. “What was that mamas?”

The intensity of his actions left her completely at a loss for words; the ecstasy he was providing sent Jasmine into a frenzy. In just a few moments, she was trembling and writhing, desperate for her climax, her eyes rolling back in pure delight.

“It’s coming Joshuaaaa it’s coming daddy!” At that moment, she seemed to shatter, as if he had torn her apart.

A piercing scream escaped her lips as waves of pleasure surged through her, her body trembling while her essence flowed like a rushing river, and she could hear him eagerly drinking it in as if it were a refreshing drink.

However, he wasn't finished with her; he craved to see her reach climax again. As he rose from the bed and approached the dresser, he stumbled upon her rose-shaped vibrator, which made him smirk as he picked it up.

He made his way back to the bed where his girlfriend was still recovering from her third orgasm of the night—he had rested his head against the headboard, inviting her to lay on his chest, unaware that he was about to push her to her limits.

As she did that, she felt his hands gripping her legs and gently caressing her clit, which had become sensitive, making her flinch at the sensation. Jey brushed her hair aside, planting soft, wet kisses along her neck while her head rested against his chest.

“What’s your safe word baby?” His voice had a rich, gravelly quality when he spoke.

“Red.”

“Good girl, keep these legs open fo’ me baby.” Following his instructions, she felt him activate the vibrator and position it against her clit, prompting her to instinctively close her legs, which resulted in a sharp slap on her thigh.

“What I say baby girl?” Jey said.

“I-I’m sorry d-daddy.” Jasmine  whimpered as she opened her legs once again letting the vibrator touch her clit.

He held her throat firmly with one hand while using the vibrator on her clit, preventing her from moving.

He pressed the up arrow three times, and the vibrations intensified against her clit, causing it to tremble visibly. He observed her face twist in pleasure as her hips thrust forward, releasing a moan that was unlike anything he had ever heard. It was evident that she had never experienced such high settings before, judging by her body's response. As her fourth orgasm approached, she clenched her fists and thrust her hips upward, overwhelmed by the sensation that hit her like a freight train before she could brace herself.

“There she goes baby, you doing so good for daddy.” He whispered gently in her ear.

All she could do was complain as he pressed the up arrow again, increasing it to the fourth speed. She cried and whimpered in desperation, feeling yet another orgasm approaching her once more.

“Fuckkkkk, I’m finna cum again. Fuckk.” She wept, thrusting her hips into a whirlwind of intense sensations. Warm liquid dripped down her leg, even though she hadn't released herself as fully as she had anticipated, but that was of no concern to her.

He pressed his lips against her neck, leaving his mark as he observed her surrender beneath him, creating a delightful chaos on the sheets that would soon require washing.

She was at her limit, unable to feel her clit anymore as the intense vibrations left it completely numb.

Jey caressed the vibrator against her clit, her body responding with jolts of pleasure as she experienced wave after wave of ecstasy, until she reached a point where she could no longer endure it.

“R-red daddy Red.”

He shook his head, “gimmie one more and I’ll turn it off baby c’mon keep making a mess on me.”

The vibrator seemed on the verge of breaking, sending tremors throughout her body as its tip pressed closer to her slick entrance—he could sense her body quivering beneath him while he softly murmured affectionate words in her ear, praising her for being so good to him.

Allowing her to experience another wave of pleasure, the vibrations teasing her clitoris and now pulsating at the entrance of Jasmine's pussy made her moan his name.

Her fifth climax arrived in rapid succession, each wave hitting almost immediately after the last, leaving her essence splattered across Jey's legs as he observed her pleasure, her body instinctively tightening around the buzzing rose.

That made her scream out her safe word.

“Red! Fucking Red Joshuaaa!” Jasmine cried out as tears came down her eyes.

As soon as he heard her safe word, he switched off the vibrator and set it aside on the small dresser beside him. He then shifted to the other side of the bed, gently cradling her between her legs while showering her face and neck with kisses, feeling the warmth of her tears streaming down her cheeks.

His hands gently traced circles on her thighs as he continued to kiss her passionately.

“It’s okay baby breathe in and out for me mamas I’m right here.” Jey reassured her while pulling her into his chest.

He kissed her forehead gently while keeping her close to his body.

As Jasmine's eyes started to flutter, she softly closed them, overwhelmed and weary from his presence. The sound of her gentle snores made him chuckle as he lovingly stroked her hair before drifting off to sleep himself.

Fin 💗

a/n: “oh my god who wrote this???” - trapcaleb 😭

[inloveinsickness]

❝ CLICK LIKE ❞ — itoshi sae

tags. mostly written with smau elements, f!reader, model!reader, fluff, ignore timestamps and that the texts still say yogurtkags LOL i made it before the url change → wc: 1.4k

your first meeting with sae comes with a change of heart on the side

masterlist

it's uncharacteristic for you to be this jittery at a gig but all the telltale signs are there, your knee bouncing like it has a built-in spring, you're fiddling with your rings and picking at your nails. if you didnt already have your makeup done you'd be chewing at your lip but your stylist would rip you a new one and that's not something you want to handle on top of your heightened senses right now.

you play it off well, looking more impatient than anything, but to say that you’re nervous going into this shoot is an understatement. it's not that you aren’t confident you can do a good job, far from it, but rather how working with someone like itoshi sae will be like.

he’s good at what he does, don’t get it twisted, but let’s just say that based on word of mouth, he doesn’t seem like the nicest person around.

you’re not one for sports, at most just a casual viewer knowing as little about soccer as the next person, just eleven on a side kicking a ball across a field of grass, but you know him. everyone does, he’s itoshi sae, japan’s national treasure and world class soccer player.

but this isn't your first rodeo, and having years of experience under your belt yourself, you're highly sought after in your own right. you've modelled with countless other athletes in the past for other brand campaigns, but this is different. it's more editorial, less athleisure, more your scene than his and you're not sure how it's going to go, much less with someone who seems totally disinterested and a potential nightmare to work with. it’s not like you to judge a book by its cover, but something about him makes you a little weary, it’s like you can’t get a read on him, and that leaves you slightly unsettled.

as you look at him in your peripheral vision, you can't deny that the way he carries himself commands attention in a busy room. even in his quiet disposition and seemingly being out of his own territory, there's an air of confidence that surrounds him. the very thing that you can't put a pin on, it's reeling you in and you can't bring yourself to look away.

until you see him start walking up to you.

if he noticed the way your gaze lingered on his figure as he made his way over, he doesn’t mention it, but the slightest upward quirk to his lips is more than enough to imply it, and there’s nothing more that you wish for right now than for the ground beneath you to swallow you whole.

there's a subtle hint of recognition in his sharp teal eyes as he stops before you, reaching a hand out for a polite handshake, "hi, nice to meet you."

you knew he was already dolled up in his outfit from afar but now up close, he looks good, and you try not to let that distract you.

you return a smile in kind, calm and composed, tailored and professional, hand stretching out to meet his, “likewise, itoshi-san.”

things fall into plan pretty smoothly once the shoot begins, sae surprisingly keeping up with the pace and taking it in stride considering his inexperience, save for some poses where he needs a little more guidance. it's light work for you seeing how you're in your element, picking up what the photographer is putting down effortlessly, your initial nerves now simmered down as you get into the zone, but you see his stiff maneuvers and unsure eyes, understanding how this may be a little tricky for him, unnatural.

you find yourself taking the lead and helping him make subtle adjustments to his posture, slipping into a position of guidance naturally. it's what you would've wanted if you were in his shoes and as much as the tabloids have clouded your first impressions of him, his cluelessness and uncertainty on set is oddly endearing.

"here, lean a little bit more to this side? yeah, and relax your shoulders. that's it!"

he comes up to you during short breaks, and the veil covering your eyes slowly tears as you realise that he's asking for advice. the usual nonchalant expression on his face is replaced with a slight bashfulness, tinted with the faintest shade of pink. it's a far cry from the self-assuredness that you're used to seeing on his face on pictures online, and it warms your heart that he's allowing himself to be humble and taking the first step to reach out for help.

it soothes your weariness that as time passes, you find that he's not what you expected at all. he's polite, kind even, and unbelievably professional. his resilience persists in a field that's not his own and he adapts quickly, you feel the tension slowly easing in his movements as the shoot progresses, the hand on your arm sure in it's placement.

"am i doing this right?" he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper as he reclines beneath your frame leaning over him.

you nod to affirm him, shooting a glance to the photographer who signals you to lean in closer. bringing your eyes back to sae, you're taken aback to see him looking at you with an intensity that wasn't there before, all-seeing and almost soul-questioning. with the distance between you just mere inches, his features are much more apparent, drawn to the way his lower eyelashes brush against his under eyes beautifully.

no, this can't do. a pose of this likeness should be executed like second nature for you, but this feels almost too personal. your eyes fall shut in an attempt to refocus and reset your state of mind, pretending that the image of his stare doesn't burn into the back of your eyelids, only to fly open when you hear the photographer exclaim.

"perfect! hold that pose— no no keep your eyes closed!”

it’s safe to say that the rest of the shoot goes without a hitch. between outfit changes and small talk during hair and makeup touchups, you find yourself engaging in mindless chatter with sae, talking about little things from his favourite team jersey kit to what flowers you like. it’s surreal how the one person you were almost dreading to see ended up being one of your more enjoyable co-models, finding it easy to slip into conversation once you dropped your projected misgivings about him.

he’s reserved, yes, but not obnoxious and flirty like some of the others you’ve worked with and it’s a pleasant change of pace. he’s an attentive listener on topics he doesn’t quite understand on a personal level, but quick to explain more of his world in a simplified way for you to digest. it makes you wonder why the media has him portrayed in such a way, it’s nothing like what you’re experiencing firsthand, perhaps they just didn’t take the time to get to know him. you don’t entertain thoughts that just maybe, he chooses to show these sides to you.

in the middle of your shy recount of your very first gig, his manager politely interrupts to inform sae that he needs to stop by the association before this evening’s practice, much to your disappointment and what looks like his too, seeing the furrow of his eyebrow for the first time today.

“it was nice meeting you itoshi-san—”

“please, call me sae.”

the gesture paints a wide-eyed surprise on your face that brings a small smile to his lips, and you bid him goodbye with a wave and warmed cheeks you’re hoping to god the powdered blush can mask.

sae.

your shared chemistry continues to linger in your mind for the following days, and weeks later on a quiet day, your ears latch onto his name on the news program you have playing in the background while you’re doing laundry at home.

your phone chimes twice in quick succession with a like notification from said man on the shot you chose to post from the shoot, and a text from your agent. you can’t help but smile at the former, knowing simply how rare it is to get acknowledgment from the most chronically-not-online person you have the pleasure of knowing.

what intrigues you more is the string of messages from your agent.

your mind wanders and the cogs click, gears turning as you ponder about who this could possibly be. it can’t be, right? the timing has to be purely coincidental, but a small voice in your mind hopes it’s who you’re thinking of.

and true enough, your suspicions are confirmed with a fast-beating heart the next day when a bouquet of beautiful flowers are placed in your arms, bearing blooming blossoms you recognise as ones you distinctly recall mentioning to a certain someone were your favourite.

that sweet, sly bastard.

taglist. open (link to form) @saucejar @somniosu @returntothefae @daisy-room @stellar-headquarters

@whatisnureotypical @haruhi269 @ayatakanosstuff @cyxjz @irethepotato

notes. @shouyuus and i spent one fine day absolutely spiralling over this man and that conversation solidified that he deserved a place in the mansion smh WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER he has taken over my mind in an absolutely diabolical way

© inloveinsickness. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

I : Strawberry Wine

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

the prelude to this series

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3

author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo

Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before. 

The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat. 

“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”

Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy? 

Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life. 

Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”

You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic. 

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”

“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”

You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you. 

“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

-

“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”

He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.

You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”

He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face. 

“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”

So he’s single. You think to yourself. 

You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him. 

Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”

“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.” 

The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat. 

And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes. 

“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”

You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it. 

“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”

“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”

He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”

-

The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner. 

“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”

You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things. 

“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”

As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind. 

“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”

His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like. 

“Baked chicken and vegetables?”

He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”

You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you. 

You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”

-

You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date. 

You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable. 

You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed. 

When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be. 

Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”. 

What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands. 

“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”

You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. 

“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”

-

You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring. 

You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. 

“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness. 

He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”

You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”

“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”

You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel. 

“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”

He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”

You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking. 

You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable. 

You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting. 

Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently. 

After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner. 

“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies. 

“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.” 

The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full. 

“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”

He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”

“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”

He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”

“Does a check work?”

He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”

“What are neighbors for, Joel?”

He nods, “You mean friends.”

You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.

“Friends, huh?”

He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”

The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response. 

“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”

He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”

He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”

-

You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you. 

You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”

You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”

He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”

The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen. 

“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”

“What? You not good at letting loose?”

You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas. 

“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”

You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything. 

You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”

You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right. 

“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”

It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.

“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing. 

You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough. 

“Only ones that fix my toilets.”

And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass. 

He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong. 

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”

He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft. 

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”

He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”

You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up. 

You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment. 

“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment. 

“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight. 

“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”

He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."

taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)

@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm 

@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Daddy Issues - Johnny Seo x Reader

Now Playing: » Daddy Issues « The Neighbourhood 3:27 ─────〇─ 4:16 ⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

Pairing: Johnny x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 17,656 Total Word Count: 49,636 Part 1 of 3 - (Part 2) (Part 3)

Playlist Masterlist NCT Masterlist

Warnings: Eventual SMUT, Age Gap, minor angst, not bad but not great relationship with dad

Summary: 🎵 Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues 🎵 or No one makes Y/n feel more rejected that her father. That's what leads her to seek friendship with a bartender

A/N: Waa Waa Wee Waa! Part two of the NCT playlist series out! Yay! We got this daddy of a man, Johnny! Let's be real, we all got daddy fantasies about this man.

Imma hit it off the bat, a lot of this fic ended up being mAD personal and stuff (with situations with dad and older friends), so it might not seem like that big of a deal, the situations, but...it's my experience, so yeah!

(I have a very good relationship with my dad, do not worry)

sorry it took so long to get this fic out, I've been mAD busy for no bloody reason, lol

Anyways! I hope you enjoy this fic :) 💚

-

The rain clung to Y/n’s skin, cold and relentless, as if the sky reflected her despair. Her breath came in shaky bursts, mingling with the misty air as she hurried down the dimly lit street. 

By the time she reached the bar, her heart was heavy, and her tears, though mostly wiped away, still lingered on her cheeks, though the rain washed away whatever evidence was left.

Pushing open the door, she was met with the warm glow of dim lights and the soft hum of music playing from various speakers around the bar. 

The space was nearly empty, save for a couple of patrons nursing their drinks at the far end. Perfect. She didn’t need an audience tonight.

Y/n slipped onto a stool at the bar, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the counter. She tried to compose herself, brushing stray hairs out of her face and pressing her lips together to stop them from quivering.

“What can I get you?” a deep voice asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She glanced up, meeting the kind eyes of the bartender. His name tag read “Johnny”, and he looked effortlessly composed, a stark contrast to her disheveled state. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, a flicker of concern passing over his features as if he could sense the storm brewing within her.

Y/n’s eyes flickered over the drink menu in front of her, the weird, random names of shots and jugs blurring together in her mind. 

Normally, she might’ve smirked at the creativity, or rolled her eyes, but tonight, she didn’t have the energy to care. It wasn’t about the taste or the experience. She just needed something to dull the ache clawing at her chest.

“I’ll have, uh…” She hesitated, scanning the list without really reading it. “Cowboy shot, green apple shot, red light shot, and…I don’t know. Just pick another one for me.” Her voice was flat, tinged with exhaustion, as she rested her elbows on the bar.

Johnny raised an eyebrow at her order but didn’t comment. Instead, he gave a small nod and turned to grab the required bottles. 

“Coming right up,” he said, his tone calm but edged with quiet curiosity. “Rough night?” he asked casually, his tone warm but not prying.

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t used to people asking, and the kindness in his voice felt foreign. 

“Something like that,” she finally murmured, her fingers tracing the rim of the first glass he placed in front of her.

Johnny moved onto making the second shot, his movements smooth and deliberate. “Well, take it slow,” he said, his voice carrying a faint note of concern. “No rush on a quiet night like this.”

Y/n gave a faint nod, her gaze fixed on the first shot placed in front of her. It was a creamy looking shot that smelled of some kind of coffee liqueur. She wasn’t sure what to make of his attention. It wasn’t overbearing or judgmental, just…there. A steady presence that felt oddly comforting.

She downed the first shot quickly, wincing at the burn as it slid down her throat. The heat spread through her chest, momentarily distracting her from the cold knot of emotions she had carried in with her.

Johnny placed the next glass in front of her, leaning slightly on the counter. “So, what brings you out here tonight? Or is that too much to ask?”

Y/n glanced up at him, her lips tugging into a faint, humorless smile. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, her voice low. “I’m here to dull the emotions.”

He nodded, as if he understood more than she was willing to share. “Fair enough,” he replied, sliding the next drink toward her. “Just promise me you won’t try to forget too much at once.”

Her fingers hovered over the glass for a moment, his words lingering longer than she expected. There was something about him, his calm, steady presence, that felt safe, even in her vulnerable state.

She shook her head lightly, breaking the moment. “No promises,” she muttered before taking the next shot.

Johnny didn’t press further. He simply stood nearby, his quiet watchfulness making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Y/n blinked slowly as the warmth of the alcohol settled into her limbs, her mind still sharp but her body beginning to feel weightless, almost disconnected. When Johnny set the third drink in front of her, she didn’t hesitate. Gripping the glass, she downed the shot quickly, her lips pulling into a slight grimace at its syrupy, thick texture.

Johnny watched her closely, his brow furrowing as she set the empty glass down with a dull clink. He leaned forward on the counter, resting his arms there as his gaze lingered on her.

“You sure about that fourth one?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

Y/n’s hand reached for the final shot almost instinctively, her fingers brushing the cool glass. “Yes,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Johnny didn’t move the glass away, but he hesitated, studying her for a moment. “It’s gonna hit you all at once if you’re not careful,” he warned gently.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression stubborn. “That’s the idea,” she replied quietly, her voice tinged with an edge of pain.

Johnny exhaled through his nose, clearly uneasy, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he kept an eye on her. 

“Alright,” he said, a note of resignation in his tone. “But maybe slow down after this one, yeah?”

Y/n didn’t respond, her eyes fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding his gaze. Johnny sighed softly, shaking his head as he turned to prepare the fourth shot.

He moved quickly, grabbing a clean glass and the ingredients with practiced precision, but his eyes flicked back to her every few seconds. The way she sat there, silent and withdrawn, made his concern deepen.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual but laced with a subtle seriousness as he measured out the liquor, “most people who drink like this have a real problem…and need to talk.”

She still didn’t answer, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the bar. Her silence felt heavier now, like a shield she was using to keep him at arm’s length.

Johnny finished mixing the drink and set it down in front of her with a quiet thud. He didn’t say anything this time, just leaned on the counter, his steady gaze meeting hers as if waiting for her to break the silence.

-

Not even six minutes later, the weight of the alcohol hit Y/n like a tidal wave. Her light, weightless feeling gave way to a suffocating heaviness as her emotions surged to the surface. 

Silent tears rolled down her face, her shoulders trembling as she rested her head in her hands, trying to muffle the quiet sobs that escaped her.

Johnny remained where he was, leaning against the bar across from her. He’d been watching her closely, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanor. The way her breathing had deepened, the tremor in her hands. Now, as her tears fell, his expression softened further, concern etched into his features.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice low and steady, careful not to startle her. “You wanna talk about it, now?”

Y/n didn’t look up, her fingers tangling in her hair as she shook her head slightly. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, her voice breaking.

Johnny stayed silent for a moment, letting her words hang in the air before responding. “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said, leaning forward a bit. “Sometimes it helps, getting it out. Even to a stranger.”

She sniffled, her hands slowly sliding down to the bar as she wiped at her cheeks. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, finally lifted to meet his. “What do you even care?” she asked, her voice cracking with frustration, though it lacked any real malice.

Johnny tilted his head, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Because I’ve been where you are,” he said simply. “And trust me, it’s a lot harder when you’re keeping it all bottled up.”

His sincerity seemed to disarm her. She looked away, biting her lip as fresh tears welled up, spilling over once again.

Y/n lifted her gaze back to him, her teary eyes shimmering under the dim bar lights. For a moment, her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but the weight of her emotions held her back. Finally, the dam broke.

“Why doesn’t my dad care about me?” she blurted, her voice shaky and raw. “He’s always ignoring me, like I don’t even exist. And when I try to talk to him, just to have a normal conversation with your dad, he gets all pissy, like I’m bothering him or something.”

Her hands curled into fists on the bar, her frustration spilling out in waves. “It’s like…I’m his daughter, but I feel like a stranger when I’m with him. I’ve done everything to make him proud, school, awards, everything! And it’s never enough. He just…” Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face again. “He doesn’t care.”

Johnny stayed silent, leaning on the bar with his arms folded, his expression calm but deeply empathetic. He didn’t interrupt or offer hollow reassurances. He simply listened, his steady presence grounding her as she poured her heart out.

“I don’t get it,” Y/n continued, her voice trembling with anger and sadness. “What did I do to make him hate me? Why is it so hard for him to just…see me?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with years of pain and neglect. Johnny let the moment breathe before speaking, his tone low and deliberate. “It’s not you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “It’s never been you.”

She looked at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The sincerity in his voice and the steadiness in his gaze caught her off guard.

“I don’t know what’s going on with your dad,” Johnny continued, “but you don’t deserve to feel like this. No one does. And for what it’s worth, it says more about him than it ever will about you.”

His words hung in the air, a strange comfort in the midst of her pain. For the first time, Y/n felt like someone was truly hearing her, understanding her, without judgment or dismissal.

“You’re better than this,” Johnny added gently, his tone firm yet kind. “And you deserve better than what he’s giving you.”

Y/n sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, a small, fragile smile tugging at her lips. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but grateful.

Johnny leaned against the bar, his expression soft and reassuring as he grabbed a clean glass, filling it with water. 

Setting it down in front of Y/n, he said, “Here. Drink this. It’ll help take the edge off.”

Y/n hesitated before taking the glass, her fingers brushing against his briefly. That small, unintentional touch felt warmer than she expected, grounding her amidst the chaos in her head.

Johnny opened his mouth to say more, but the faint sound of footsteps interrupted him. His coworker emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a towel. 

“Hey, Johnny, take your ten. I’ll handle the bar,” he said with an easygoing nod toward the clock.

Johnny frowned, glancing from Y/n to his coworker. “I can take it later. It’s fine–”

“Nah, man, I got this,” his coworker insisted, stepping closer. “You look like you need the break more than I do.” His voice was light, but there was no mistaking the underlying encouragement.

Reluctantly, Johnny straightened, his gaze lingering on Y/n. “I’ll be back in a few,” he said softly, his tone laced with hesitation. 

He didn’t want to leave her like this, not when she was so vulnerable, but there wasn’t much of a choice. Y/n gave him a faint nod, her fingers still wrapped around the glass of water. She watched as he moved to the back, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were reluctant to put any distance between them.

As the door swung shut behind him, the bar felt emptier despite the presence of a few other patrons. Y/n stared at the water in front of her, Johnny’s kindness still lingering like an echo in her mind.

For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel entirely invisible. And though he was gone for now, she had a feeling he’d come back. Something about the way he looked at her, listened to her, it felt different. Genuine. 

She took a sip of the water, the cold refreshing her throat and steadying her breaths. 

Even though Johnny had made her feel seen, appreciated, even, she still felt the heavy weight of years of emotional neglect pressing down on her chest. One conversation wasn’t going to fix that.

She looked up at the new bartender, her voice quiet but resolute. “Just…give me some random shots. I don’t care what they are.”

-

Johnny stepped back into the bar after his ten-minute break, running a hand through his hair as he scanned the room. His eyes landed on the girl, slumped over the counter with tear-streaked cheeks, her head cradled in her hands. Surrounding her were a cluster of empty shot glasses, ones he didn’t serve her.

His jaw tightened, and a wave of frustration surged through him. Striding over to his coworker, who was wiping down glasses behind the bar, Johnny’s voice was low but laced with anger.

“What the fuck, man?” Johnny hissed, gesturing toward Y/n. “What are you doing serving her more drinks, she’s wasted!”

The coworker shrugged, looking unbothered. “She asked for them. Didn’t seem like that big of a deal. She’s sitting down, not causing any trouble.”

Johnny’s glare sharpened. “It’s not about trouble. It’s about responsibility. You don’t just keep pouring for someone clearly out of it.”

Without waiting for a response, Johnny stepped away, grabbing a glass of water and heading straight for Y/n, his frustration giving way to concern as he bent slightly to meet her gaze.

"Hey, uh…girl," Johnny said softly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. "Look at me for a second."

Y/n slowly lifted her head, her eyes red and glassy, streaked with tears that refused to stop. Seeing the pain etched across her face, Johnny's heart sank. He wasn’t sure entirely what she had been through, but it was written all over her.

"Here, drink some water," Johnny urged, placing a glass in her trembling hand. She tried to grip it, but her fingers were unsteady, barely able to hold it without spilling.

Johnny sighed, his frustration fading into pure concern. He reached behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of water and a box of tissues, setting them down beside her.

"Alright," he said gently but firmly, standing up straight. "We’re getting you out of here. I’m ordering you an Uber."

As he helped her to her feet, she stumbled, her legs shaky beneath her. Tears continued to spill down her face, her sobs audible now.

"Here, hold these," Johnny said, handing her the water bottle and tissues. 

He steadied her with a firm grip on her hips, guiding her toward the door. She leaned heavily against him, her body uncooperative as he carefully walked her outside.

Johnny settled her onto the edge of a low brick wall, ensuring she wouldn’t fall over anytime soon. Pulling out his phone, he opened the uber app and glanced back at her. "Okay, where do you live?"

"61…Thomson Cres…" Y/n slurred, her words barely coherent.

Johnny quickly entered the address and confirmed the ride. "Alright, it’ll be here in ten minutes," he said, turning back to her.

But before he could say more, Y/n suddenly pushed herself up from the wall, the water bottle and tissues slipping from her grasp. She stumbled toward the gutter and vomited.

"Shit," Johnny muttered, rushing to her side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her securely to prevent her from falling forward.

"It’s okay," he said softly, keeping her upright while she continued. "Just get it out. I’ve got you."

When she finally stopped, Johnny grabbed the tissues from the ground, offering them to her with a steady hand. "Here. Clean yourself up a bit," he said, his voice calm despite the situation.

Y/n took the tissues weakly, her gaze unfocused but grateful. Her throat burned from the stomach acid and alcohol that made it’s way back up. Johnny stayed close, his presence a quiet reassurance as he looked over her.

Johnny sighed deeply, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at the girl leaning heavily against him. Her face was etched with exhaustion and sadness, and her trembling body felt so fragile in his arms. He couldn't shake the thought of her alone in an Uber, her head slumped against the window, or worse, passing out as she tried to stumble out of the car. The idea made his chest tighten.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching.

Pulling out his phone, Johnny canceled the Uber with a few quick taps. He glanced down at her, her glazed-over eyes barely registering her surroundings. "I’m driving you home, okay?" he said firmly.

She gave the faintest nod, but he wasn’t sure she even understood. Still, it was enough for him.

"Alright, come on," he said softly, steadying her as he guided her toward the employee parking lot. She leaned against him, her steps uneven and sluggish.

Johnny unlocked his car, the soft beep echoing in the quiet night. He opened the passenger door and carefully helped her inside, easing her into the seat and buckling the seatbelt securely over her. 

"Stay still," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face before shutting the door.

Rushing around to the driver’s side, he slid into the seat and pulled up his phone’s GPS, quickly entering her address. With a deep breath, he started the engine and eased out of the parking lot.

The road stretched out in front of them, the steady rhythm of the rain tapping against the windshield. Johnny stole a glance at the girl slumped in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window, her tears streaked down her face.

What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to call an Uber, let someone else take responsibility, and get back to work. But here he was, driving a stranger home in the middle of his shift.

He sighed again, his grip tightening on the wheel. She looked so young, so vulnerable, and so damn broken. He couldn’t just leave her like that. Not when she needed someone to look out for her.

“I’ll get you home safe,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than her, as the dim glow of streetlights passed by. 

He didn’t know this girl, didn’t even know her name, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. She was in his care now, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

About ten minutes into the drive, Y/n started to stir, her body shifting slightly as she sat up straighter in the passenger seat. Her eyes blinked a few times, as if trying to adjust to her surroundings. She glanced out the window, taking in the passing streetlights and the quiet night air.

Johnny noticed the change immediately. He slowed the car slightly and reached into the cup holder, grabbing the bottle of water he had set there earlier. 

“Here,” he said gently, offering it to her. “Drink some water.”

Y/n’s hands were still a little shaky, but she took the bottle, unscrewing the cap and drinking slowly, as though it was the first time in years that she’d had anything to hydrate her. 

As she lowered the bottle, Johnny glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “We’re about eight minutes out from your place. How you feeling?”

She paused for a moment, the words seeming to process slowly. “Uh…a bit better,” she replied, her voice hoarse but softer now. “Letting it out helped.”

A small, quiet smile tugged at the corner of Johnny’s mouth, though it was fleeting. "That’s good to hear," he said, his tone warm but steady.

He kept his eyes on the road, but the sound of her voice, less distant than before, felt like a small victory. There was something in the way she spoke now, a slight shift from the wall of emotion she’d been wrapped in earlier.

Johnny didn’t know how much of it was the alcohol wearing off or just her finally starting to feel a little less like she was drowning in her own thoughts. But whatever it was, it was a good sign. He would get her home, get her somewhere safe, and maybe, just maybe, help her piece a little of this night back together.

The drive continued in a silence that wasn’t as heavy as before. Y/n still seemed distant, her eyes lost in thought, but there was a slight relaxation in her posture now. 

Johnny’s eyes kept flickering to her, though he tried to keep his focus on the road. So broken yet somehow still here, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for getting her through this night.

The streetlights flickered as they drove through quieter parts of town, and Johnny’s fingers tapped absently on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, whether she even wanted to talk more, or if she just needed the space. 

He tried to gauge her mood, but her silence wasn’t closed off like before. It felt more like a pause, as though she was gathering her thoughts.

After a few moments, Y/n finally spoke again, her voice softer than before. “I don’t know what to say to him anymore.” Her words were almost a whisper, but Johnny could hear the weight of them in the quiet of the car.

“Your dad?” Johnny asked, glancing over at her quickly.

She nodded, her hand resting limply on her lap. “Yeah. He…he just doesn’t care. Every time I try to talk to him, it’s like I’m invisible to him. Or worse, I’m a nuisance.” 

She let out a shaky sigh, her eyes drifting down to the seatbelt over her lap. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t even know if I want to anymore.”

Johnny’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his thoughts swirling. The frustration was clear in her voice, the hurt that had built up over years of being ignored. It hit him harder than he expected. Too close to home. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, more to himself than her. “That’s…that’s really tough.”

Y/n’s head drooped slightly, but she let out a small laugh, more of a bitter chuckle. “Tough? Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Johnny didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t need to say anything else. The moment was heavy with her pain, and she didn’t need empty reassurances. 

She needed someone who was there, who would listen, who wouldn’t leave when it got too much.

As the car pulled closer to her place, the street signs growing familiar to her, Johnny glanced at her once more, catching her tired eyes. 

“I’m still here, kinda..” He chuckled. “You don’t have to be alone right now.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away, but her lips trembled as though she was fighting another wave of emotion. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment before she glanced out the window again.

The car came to a stop as they neared her apartment complex, and Johnny turned off the engine, taking a deep breath before opening the door. 

“Alright,” he said, turning to face her. “We’re here. I’ll walk you up.”

She didn’t protest, just nodded faintly, and Johnny got out, coming around to open her door. He helped her out gently, careful not to jar her. 

With the night still heavy around them, they made their way to her front door in silence. When they reached the door, Johnny stood back a little, giving her space.

Johnny watched as Y/n stepped up to her door, her movements slow but steady, a quiet strength in her despite the rawness of everything she’d just shared. 

He stood there, waiting for her to turn back or say something more, but she simply gave him a faint nod. The weight of the night was still heavy on both of them, but there was an unspoken understanding between them now.

“Well, this is it,” Johnny said, his voice soft but clear.

Y/n turned to face him, her eyes still a little red, but there was something different there, a quiet gratitude, perhaps. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “For everything. Really.”

Johnny gave a small nod, unsure of what else to say. “You’re welcome. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

“I will,” she promised, the words hanging in the air between them for a moment.

Without another word, Y/n stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Johnny stood there for a moment longer, his eyes on the door, his thoughts a swirl of uncertainty. 

He’d done what he could, even though he hadn’t known her, even though she probably wouldn’t remember him tomorrow. But for tonight, he had been there when she needed someone, and that was enough.

With a sigh, Johnny turned and made his way back to his car, the night settling in around him as he drove off into the quiet of the city, the weight of the evening slowly fading.

-

Waking up was pure agony. Y/n cracked her eyes open, only to groan and squeeze them shut again as the light streaming through her curtains sent a sharp throb through her skull. She felt like her brain was trying to jump out of her head, and her stomach rolled uneasily in protest.

“How much did I even drink?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, as if that might somehow stop the pounding.

The idea of moving seemed impossible, but the gurgling emptiness in her stomach reminded her she needed something to keep from feeling like complete death. She reached blindly for her phone on the bedside table, her fingers fumbling before finally grabbing hold of it.

With a deep sigh, Y/n pressed her best friend's contact. The line barely rang before Yangyang's cheerful voice answered, far too bright for her current state.

“Hi hi!” he chirped, oblivious to her suffering.

“Yangyang,” Y/n groaned, her face half-buried in her pillow. “Can you pick me up some chicken and chips or something?”

“Lazy ass,” he teased, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Hungover, actually,” she muttered, her words muffled by the pillow.

There was a dramatic gasp on the other end of the line. “What!? You went drinking without me? How dare you!”

“Yangyang,” she said, her tone deadpan. “We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

“Who said I’m even coming?” he shot back indignantly. “I didn’t agree to–”

“Thanks, bye,” Y/n cut him off, hanging up before he could finish.

Dropping the phone back onto the table, she let out a heavy sigh. Yangyang would come. He always did, no matter how much he pretended to complain. For now, all she had to do was survive until he showed up with her greasy hangover cure.

-

It wasn’t long before Y/n’s phone buzzed with a text from Yangyang, "I’m at the door." 

She groaned, typing back, "Use the spare key."

A moment later, she heard the familiar click of her door unlocking and footsteps echoing through the apartment.

“Can’t even open a door for me!” Yangyang shouted sarcastically from downstairs, his voice dripping with mock offence.

A faint smirk tugged at Y/n’s lips, but she didn’t bother to respond. Moments later, Yangyang appeared in her doorway, shaking his head when he saw her sprawled face-down on the bed.

“Hell, not taking the hangover well, I see,” he said, dropping his bag onto the floor and walking over.

“Did you bring my food?” Y/n mumbled, her voice muffled against the mattress.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yangyang said with a roll of his eyes. He sat on the other side of her bed, setting the plastic bag beside her.

Summoning whatever energy she had left, Y/n uncomfortably shifted to sit up, her hair a mess and her face still etched with exhaustion. She reached for the bag, pulling out the box of chicken and chips like it was gold.

“God fucking bless you,” she muttered, grabbing a chip and popping it into her mouth.

Yangyang smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “So…what happened?” he asked casually, but his tone was tinged with concern.

Y/n paused, her hand hovering over the box for another chip. “Dad and I went out for dinner last night,” she started, her voice bitter. “But he was being a dick the whole time, saying how I should be grateful and how he didn’t even want to be there.”

Yangyang’s expression darkened. “Your dad’s an asshole. Seriously, fuck him,” he said, reaching over to steal a chip from her box. “Is he at work?”

“Yeah…” Y/n said softly, chewing on another fry. “So, after that disaster of a dinner, I went out.”

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Out where?”

“A bar. Just…needed to forget about it, I guess,” Y/n admitted, shrugging as if it was no big deal, though the memory made her chest tighten.

“That’s why you shouldn’t be doing that shit without me, anything could happen,” Yangyang said.

“Yeah, like making a complete fool of myself.” Y/n said.

“Oh no, what happened?” Yangyang asked.

“The poor bartender. I had a bunch of shots and started crying. Then he asked me if I wanted to talk about it, and I blurted out my daddy issues to him. And then vomited…” Y/n said.

Yangyang couldn't help but snicker a little. 

“Shut up,” Y/n kicked him. 

“Man, what a bad bartender though, serving you to the point of vomiting.” Yangyang said.

“No, no,” Y/n said, waving a hand. “It wasn’t him. It was the other bartender. Kept serving me when I clearly shouldn’t have been drinking anymore. He was really cool actually.”

“Cause he listened?” Yangyang Asked.

“Yeah, but…he also said a lot of encouraging things and…fuck, he drove me home,” Y/n just recalled.

“...Are you serious?” Yangyang asked.

“Yeah…oh my god, that poor man,” Y/n couldn't believe herself.

“He wasn't weird, was he?” Yangyang asked.

“No…he was an absolute fucking gentleman.” Y/n was looking into space.

Yangyang leaned back, crossing his arms. “Damn. Well, that’s good then. You’re lucky you had someone.”

“Maybe,” Y/n muttered, looking down at her food. “But I’m never going back to that bar again.”

Yangyang chuckled, the corners of his lips quirking up. “Probably a good idea. But hey, look at the bright side! At least you’ve got me to cure your hangover with food and moral support.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face. “Thanks, Yangyang. You’re alright.”

“Alright? Excuse me, I’m amazing,” he said with mock indignation, reaching over to steal another chip. “And don’t you forget it.”

Y/n shook her head, popping another chip into her mouth. 

“Just make sure not to drink without me next time, okay? You won’t always have a super nice bartender like that again,” Yangyang said, pointing at her with a chip.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” Y/n replied, waving her hand dismissively. “I still can’t believe how incredibly nice that man was…”

Yangyang tilted his head, urging her to keep talking.

“He…he actually listened to me. Like, all of it. And then he told me I deserved better,” Y/n said, her voice softening as she recalled the memory. 

“He even held me so I didn’t fall in my own vomit–Oh my god!” Her eyes widened in horror. “I vomited in front of him! I can never go back there again!” She buried her face in her hands, groaning in embarrassment.

Yangyang burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “He deserves a damn trophy for that, not just tips!”

Y/n peeked out from behind her hands, her cheeks still flushed. “Seriously, though. Who does that? Like, he didn’t have to care that much.”

“He sounds like some kind of bartender superhero,” Yangyang teased, nudging her with his elbow. “Are you sure you didn’t dream the whole thing?”

Y/n ignored him, her gaze drifting as she stared into space. The events of the night before replayed in her mind. The way the bartender, Johnny, was it? had gone out of his way to keep her safe, listening to her as she cried like a broken record. And he wasn’t just nice, he was handsome. So incredibly handsome, even in her drunken haze, she’d noticed.

“Don’t start going loopy on me!” Yangyang said, snapping his fingers in front of her face and giving her a light shake.

“I’m not going loopy!” Y/n snapped back, shoving him playfully. “I just…I guess I didn’t expect someone to be that kind, you know?”

“Well, enjoy the memory,” Yangyang said with a grin. “But remember, the next time you cry to a stranger, I’m the one who’s supposed to be there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/n muttered, but a small smile tugged at her lips. Even though she’d sworn never to return to that bar, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see the kind stranger again.

-

Not even a week later, Y/n found herself back at the same bar she had sworn to avoid. After the humiliation of that night, she never intended to return, but life had other plans. A heated argument with her dad over something stupid, like not remembering the shit-ass instructions he’d given her for a chore, had driven her out of the house. She couldn’t bear to stay under the same roof with him, not while his anger still hung in the air like a storm cloud.

The bar was busier this time, which made sense, it was a Friday night, and the place was alive with chatter and the clinking of glasses. Y/n weaved through the crowd, her emotions raw and unfiltered. Reaching the bar, she didn’t bother to check the menu. 

“Two jugs of whatever you’ve got,” she told the bartender, her voice clipped.

The man behind the bar was the other bartender from the previous night, the one who had let her spiral. Y/n recognized him immediately. Despite her mixed feelings, she knew he’d get the job done, and tonight she didn’t care about much else. 

She grabbed her drinks and a clean shot glass and headed for a secluded booth in the corner, where she could wallow in peace.

Sliding into the seat, she set the jugs down and poured herself a shot. The amber liquid gleamed under the dim lights as she stared at it for a moment, her thoughts swirling. With a sigh, she downed the shot in one go, wincing as it burned its way down her throat.

Y/n poured another, her hands steady despite the whirlwind in her chest. She didn’t want to think about her dad, about his sharp words and how they always seemed to cut deeper than she’d like to admit. She didn’t want to think about anything at all.

Instead, she focused on the shot glass, the way the liquid filled it perfectly, the way it gleamed, though she knew better than to expect anything good from alcohol. As she tipped back her second shot.

-

Johnny showed up to work at 7, exactly on the dot. His shift had started, and he wasted no time getting behind the bar, washing his hands and preparing for the night ahead. The sound of glasses and hum of conversation filled the air, but his focus was on the routine, until his coworker spoke up.

“Hey, the girl from the other night’s back…”

Johnny froze for a split second. “What?” His voice was low, and though he shouldn’t have reacted so quickly, he knew exactly who his coworker was talking about.

“In the corner,” his coworker nodded toward the far side of the bar, where the booths sat in shadow. “Looks like she's having another go at it.”

Johnny wiped his hands on a towel and stepped out from behind the bar. He didn’t have a plan as he made his way across the room, weaving through the patrons. All he knew was that he needed to check on her.

The girl was there, just as his coworker had said, slumped forward, her elbows resting on the table, her face barely visible in the dim light. She looked the same, but something in the way she sat, so still and alone, hit Johnny harder than he expected.

He hesitated for a moment, standing in the middle of the bar, but then he exhaled, bracing himself. There was no going back now. Without another glance toward the counter, he walked over to her, his mind torn between wanting to offer help and not overstepping the boundaries of a stranger’s night.

When he finally reached her table, he paused, just for a second, before speaking.

"You back again?" His voice was softer than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that made him feel protective, even though he barely knew her.

The look she gave him nearly shattered Johnny’s heart. Her red, watery eyes and the quiet sorrow etched into her face were too much to ignore.

“Mind if I sit?” Johnny asked gently, keeping his voice low to avoid adding to her obvious discomfort.

She sniffled, her gaze falling back to the table. After a moment, she gave a small nod. “Go for it.”

Sliding into the booth across from her, Johnny rested his arms on the table and leaned in slightly. “Want to talk about it?” he asked, his tone hesitant but genuine.

Y/n shook her head, barely meeting his gaze. “I shouldn’t bother you.”

Johnny sighed, leaning back in his seat. “You’re not a bother. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.”

“But I do,” Y/n admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And drinking’s not going to fix it,” Johnny said, his tone firm. “We both know how that turned out the other night.”

Her lips twitched into a fleeting, humorless smile as she glanced at him, but the weight of her emotions quickly pulled her gaze away. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him for long, especially not with her tear-streaked face. It was humiliating enough to be caught in this state, let alone by someone as handsome as him.

Johnny leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her. “Look, I’m not here to lecture you. I just...I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/n swallowed hard, still avoiding his eyes. “Why do you care?”

He hesitated, then answered honestly, “Because someone should. And it seems like not enough people do.”

Those words caught her off guard, and for a moment, the tightness in her chest loosened. She risked another glance at him, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made her cry all over again.

“You clearly need someone,” Johnny said, his voice steady yet compassionate. “I don’t doubt you have friends, but it feels like there’s something missing in your life right now. I’m guessing it has something to do with your dad.”

Y/n blinked, startled by how bluntly he’d addressed the issue. She wasn’t sure if it was his confidence or his calm demeanor, but his directness didn’t feel invasive, it felt...honest.

“I’m not asking for your life story,” Johnny continued, leaning back slightly to give her space. “But if you’re comfortable, I’m here. Whatever you need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

His words hung in the air, offering an openness she wasn’t used to. Y/n hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “Why would you even want to listen to me? I’m just some random drunk girl who ruined your night the other day.”

Johnny chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You didn’t ruin anything. And you’re not just some random girl. You’re a person who’s clearly going through a lot. If I can help, even just by listening, then why wouldn’t I?”

Y/n stared at the napkin for a moment longer before taking a deep breath. “Yeah…It’s my dad,” she admitted quietly. “He’s...impossible to please. No matter what I do, it’s not enough. And he doesn’t even try to hide how much he resents me.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she clenched her jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay. Johnny’s expression softened, his eyes filled with an empathy that made her chest ache.

“You don’t deserve that,” Johnny said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You deserve a parent that cares about you.”

Y/n let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not,” Johnny admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. And it doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

For the first time in a long while, Y/n felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but sitting across from someone who seemed to care, even a little, made her feel less like she was drowning.

Johnny leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his gaze steady. “So...what brought you here tonight?”

Y/n let out a dry, bitter laugh. “It’s so stupid.”

“Doesn’t seem stupid if it’s got you feeling this way,” Johnny replied, his tone gentle but firm.

She sighed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “He asked me to clean the bathroom if I had time, so I did. I was almost finished when he got home…I thought maybe he’d say thank you or something...but instead, he yelled at me for using the wrong disinfectant.”

Her voice wavered as her eyes filled with tears, the memory cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. “I didn’t think it would be a problem. I used the one I always used…the one I would see my Mum use.” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked down, embarrassed by the emotion bubbling up.

Johnny shook his head, his expression darkening with quiet disapproval. “That’s not on you. You did what he asked, and he shouldn’t be yelling at you over something so small.”

Y/n already knew that, but hearing it from someone else, a stranger, even, felt oddly validating. “I guess,” she murmured, wiping at her eyes. “But it’s just...always like this. No matter what I do, it’s never right.”

Johnny tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. “That’s not fair to you. You don’t deserve to feel like this. Like nothing you do matters.”

She bit her lip, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “It’s hard to explain. I just…I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells with him. Trying not to mess up. And when I do, it’s like...it’s the end of the world to him.”

Johnny’s voice softened, a warmth in his tone that caught her off guard. “That’s not your burden to carry, Y/n. Parents are supposed to guide you, not tear you down over things that don’t even matter.”

His words struck a chord deep within her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a small sense of relief. Yeah, she told this kind of thing to Yangyang all the time, but it was just different this time. 

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I’m dumping all of this on you.”

“Because you needed to,” Johnny said simply, offering her a small smile. “And honestly? I’m glad you did. You deserve to be heard.”

Y/n met his gaze, and for a moment, the weight of her father’s criticism felt just a little lighter. “You’re a lot nicer than you need to be, you know that?”

Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Maybe. But sometimes, people just need someone to remind them that they matter.”

Y/n leaned back in her seat, trying to take a deep breath and compose herself. She sniffled lightly and rubbed her hands over her cheeks, as if wiping away the lingering traces of her tears could also erase the heaviness in her chest. 

“God, I must look like such a mess right now,” she muttered with a weak laugh.

Johnny leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he chuckled softly. “You’re fine. Trust me, I’ve seen much worse at this bar. You’re nowhere near the top of the ‘messiest customer’ list.”

Y/n gave him a small smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Gee, that makes me feel better.”

“I’m just saying,” Johnny said, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The corners of her mouth lifted just a little more, and she sighed, a faint air of relief settling over her. “I guess I should try to, like...relax or something. Let the night go.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Johnny said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re here now, may as well try to enjoy the moment.”

They fell into an easier rhythm, Johnny steering the conversation to lighter topics, a funny story about a drunken regular, a joke about the bar’s overly long drink names. Y/n found herself laughing despite everything, the tension in her shoulders easing bit by bit.

-

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, Y/n glanced at the clock, realising how late it had gotten. She let out a small sigh, the weight of the day finally starting to catch up to her. 

“Guess I should head off,” she murmured, standing up and gathering her things.

Johnny noticed and immediately stood up as well. “Need a ride?” he asked, his tone casual.

Y/n shook her head with a smile. “Nah, I’m good tonight. I’m gonna message my friend to pick me up.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Well, I’ll wait with you until they get here.”

She looked at him, surprised by his willingness to stay. “You don’t have to, but thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you,” Johnny said with a grin, before he leaned back against the booth and folded his arms casually. “Besides, you’re not alone here anymore. I’m happy to keep you company for a bit longer.”

Y/n smiled, feeling a warm gratitude welling up inside her. “Thanks, Johnny. I really do appreciate everything you did for me the other night. I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly, and I...I just wanted to make sure you know that.”

Johnny chuckled softly. “No need to thank me. It’s just what anyone would do.”

“But still,” Y/n insisted, her voice quieter now. “You went out of your way to make sure I was okay. That’s more than just being a ‘good bartender.’”

She paused, suddenly realising something. “Wait a minute...I never even told you my name.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Shit!” Y/n gave a sheepish laugh. “Guess I got caught up in everything...I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Y/n,” Johnny said with a friendly grin, then gestured to the name tag on his chest. “I’m guessing that makes me Johnny.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Y/n said with a soft laugh, feeling the tension in her chest ease just a little more. She paused, then looked up at him. “Hey, I just...I really want to thank you for being there for me, Johnny. For listening. For everything.”

Johnny’s smile softened as he leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. But, listen, if you ever need someone to talk to again, I’m here every Monday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Same hours. Same bar. You’ve got someone to listen, anytime.”

Y/n studied him, her brow furrowing slightly. There was something about the way he said it, so easy, so genuine, that made her pause. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was a depth in his words that felt like he was offering more than just a listening ear. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed something in his tone, a quiet kind of care he didn’t seem to show to just anyone.

But she chose not to ask. Instead, she gave him a soft, grateful smile. “Thanks, Johnny. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nodded, his grin returning. “Anytime, Y/n. Seriously. Don’t hesitate, alright?”

As Johnny stood with her, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of comfort. She wasn’t entirely sure why Johnny cared so much, but for tonight, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

And that was enough.

The moment the door to the bar swung open, Y/n looked up and saw Yangyang storming in, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. He was exactly on time.

Yangyang’s eyes scanned the room, locking onto her in the corner. His brows furrowed when he saw her, still standing with Johnny. Without another word, he made a beeline for her, pushing through the crowd of people as if they were obstacles in his way.

“Let’s go,” Yangyang said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he reached the booth.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t even had time to properly say goodbye to Johnny before Yangyang was already tugging at her arm, pulling her to her feet. Johnny looked up at the sudden movement, his smile still soft, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes as Y/n scrambled to gather her things.

“Yangyang!” she started, turning back to Johnny with a quick wave. “Thanks again, really...I’ll–”

“Come on, Y/n,” Yangyang interrupted, his grip tightening on her arm as he pulled her toward the door. His tone softened slightly, but his worry was still evident. “Let’s go. I’m not leaving you here with...whoever,” he added, glancing at Johnny.

Y/n barely had time to give Johnny another smile, her mind too scrambled to say much more than, “Sorry, I...I’ll see you later.”

Before Johnny could respond, Yangyang was already dragging her outside, his steps quick and forceful as he moved toward the car parked at the curb. Y/n could barely keep up, still lost in the warm afterglow of the conversation with Johnny. She felt guilty, but Yangyang wasn’t giving her a moment to explain herself.

“Seriously, what were you thinking?” Yangyang huffed as they reached the car. “You said you’d never go back or drink without me, and you’re just sitting there with some random guy?”

Y/n let out a deep sigh as the car hummed steadily down the street. She glanced over at Yangyang, trying to gather her thoughts after the whirlwind of emotions she’d just experienced at the bar.

Y/n winced, “The guy I was talking to at the bar the other night...that was him. The bartender, Johnny.”

Yangyang’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, and Y/n noticed the way his jaw clenched. 

“You were talking to him again?” His voice was tight, his concern clear but mixed with a hint of frustration.

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, looking out the window. “He’s...he’s actually really nice. I don’t know, I just...I needed someone to listen to me, Yangyang. And he did. It was good.”

Yangyang shook his head, his tone firm. “Y/n, you can’t just be confiding in some random man like that. I don’t care how nice he seems, he’s still a strange man. You can’t trust him so easily, no matter how much he listens.”

Y/n frowned, her thoughts spinning. “But...I don’t think he’s like that. He’s not just some random guy. He’s a very nice man.”

Yangyang glanced at her, his eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Very nice man? Y/n, older guys like that don’t just give a shit about you. They have their own reasons for pretending to care. It’s not like he’s gonna take on the role of some personal therapist just for fun. You can’t let that happen.”

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine at his words, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hadn’t considered it that way, but Yangyang’s perspective was making her second-guess her own. Was she being naive? Was she trusting him too easily?

Before she could voice her doubts, Yangyang spoke again, his voice lower, more intense. “And you weren’t supposed to be drinking without me either. You know that’s dangerous. I told you I’d be there if you needed to talk, if you needed to unwind, but not like this. You could have really hurt yourself, Y/n.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Y/n could feel the sting of guilt creeping in. She hadn’t thought about how reckless she’d been, too caught up in the moment and the comfort Johnny had provided. Yangyang was right, he had warned her, and she had ignored it.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice small. “I didn’t mean to make you worry like that.”

Yangyang softened, glancing at her with a hint of exasperation but also something else, care. “I’m not mad, Y/n. I just want you to be safe. You don’t need to be doing stuff like that, especially not when you’ve got people who care about you, people like me.”

Y/n didn’t respond immediately, her mind still processing everything. She didn’t want to admit it, but Yangyang’s words made sense. She couldn’t just go around opening up to every man who listened. Not all of them had good intentions.

“I know, Yangyang,” she said finally, her voice more resigned now. “I’ll be more careful next time. I just...I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like I’m drowning, and when someone actually listens, it’s...it’s a relief.”

Yangyang exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. I really do. But you don’t have to be drowning, Y/n. Come to me, yeah?”

Y/n nodded, feeling a little lighter but still conflicted. She appreciated Yangyang’s concern, but part of her couldn’t shake the connection she’d felt with Johnny, the way he had listened without judgment.

But for now, all she could do was trust Yangyang.

As the car rolled through the quiet streets, Y/n sat in silence for a few moments, her thoughts swirling around like a storm in her mind. The weight of the night was still pressing down on her, and the thought of returning to the tenseness of her house felt unbearable. She couldn't go back to that place, not tonight, not after everything that had happened.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yangyang...can I come to your place tonight?”

Yangyang glanced at her, surprise flickering in his eyes before it softened. “You don’t want to go home?” he asked gently.

Y/n shook her head, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “No. I...I can’t go back there. It feels like everything’s just too much.”

He nodded, his expression softening as he slowed the car down. “Of course, you can stay with me. I’m not going to let you be go there if you’re not ready for that.”

Y/n let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease a little. “Thank you, Yangyang,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “I just...I don’t want to deal with it right now. I just want to be somewhere I feel safe.”

“You’re always safe with me,” Yangyang replied, his voice steady and reassuring. He reached over and squeezed her hand for a moment before turning his focus back to the road. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Y/n nodded, her chest tightening but also loosening at the same time. She was grateful for him, for his care, for being someone she could lean on when everything felt like too much. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The drive felt shorter than it was, and soon enough they were pulling up to his place. Yangyang’s place was a two-story flat he shared with a couple of other people, though Y/n only really hung out with them at parties. Never had time to talk with them properly, usually heading straight to Yangyang’s room, just like now.

As Yangyang parked the car, he turned to her with a small smile. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You can rest, and we’ll figure everything out tomorrow, alright?”

Y/n gave him a soft smile back, as they made their way to his room.

As Y/n lay on the bed at Yangyang's place later that night, her mind wandered back to the bar. She knew she shouldn't have gone back. There was something about the bartender, Johnny, that had pulled her in. It was almost magnetic, like an invisible thread tying her to him, and no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she couldn’t escape it.

What made it even more complicated was how he made her feel. He didn’t look at her like she was a burden, like she was just another person to deal with. Johnny treated her with a kind of maturity, respect, and care that she hadn’t known in a long time.

It was in the way he listened without judgment, how he noticed the small things that everyone else overlooked, like the subtle tremor in her voice or the way her eyes would wander when the silence stretched too long. He didn’t rush her, didn’t push her to talk, but when she did, he made her feel like her words mattered.

It stood in such sharp contrast to the way her father treated her, the way he always seemed so distant, so preoccupied, never really seeing her, never really hearing her. Y/n had spent so much time trying to please him, trying to earn a sliver of his attention, but nothing ever worked. No matter how hard she tried, there was always something wrong. 

Tonight, after the argument, she'd felt it again, the suffocating loneliness of it, the emptiness that came with his neglect. But Johnny...Johnny made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in years. It was as if he could sense the pain beneath her exterior, and instead of turning away, he leaned in, offering her a space to just be. No one had done that for her, not in a long time.

And she knew it was dangerous to let herself get attached to that. She barely knew him. Their interactions were brief, and yet there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his smile reached his eyes, that made her heart do strange things. 

He wasn’t just some random guy, but a man who had his own life, his own set of experiences. He wasn’t supposed to be her safe space, not really. But in those moments they shared, when he looked at her with that quiet understanding, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

Y/n closed her eyes, her thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions. She shouldn't let herself get too caught up in this. She couldn’t. But the way he listened, the way he cared, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she was worthy of being seen. It was something she didn’t even know she craved until it was given to her.

The feelings she had were complicated, tangled with guilt and hope, but in that moment, with the soft hum of Yangyang’s home around her, Y/n allowed herself to believe for a second that she might deserve this kind of kindness. Just for tonight, she could rest in the warmth of it, before the world outside reminded her of everything else she had to face.

-

The next day, Y/n found herself standing in front of the bar once again. It was a little after 7, and the familiar sound of activity inside felt different this time. Her heart was racing a little, nerves creeping up in the back of her mind. She had told herself that she shouldn’t come back, that it was probably a bad idea to get involved in something she didn’t fully understand. 

But something about it, about him, kept pulling her in.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the door. The bar was just as lively as it had been the night before, but this time, Y/n’s focus was entirely on the bartender. She could see Johnny behind the counter, effortlessly moving between serving customers, his posture relaxed but efficient. She took a moment to watch him as he worked, the way he interacted with people, his warm smile never faltering.

A little self-conscious, Y/n made her way up to the bar, her footsteps steady but uncertain. She took a seat on one of the stools, smoothing down the hem of her jacket as she settled in, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest.

Johnny’s gaze lifted from the drink he was preparing, his eyes locking with hers for just a moment before he gave her a small, surprised smile. His expression softened, and he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder before walking over to her.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted her, his voice warm and genuine.

Y/n gave a slight nod, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, sorry. I figured I’d come by again.”

Johnny chuckled lightly, leaning against the bar with an easy familiarity. “You don’t have to apologize for showing up, you know. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Y/n’s nerves eased a little at his words, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling the weight of her decision settle in. “Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter this time.

“So,” Johnny began, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “What can I get you tonight? Hopefully not the usual?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Actually, I think I’ll just have fizzy tonight.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, amused. “Soda? Wow, a change of pace.” He paused, giving her a knowing smile. “I guess I’ll take that as a sign you’re taking it easy tonight.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh softly, her tension slowly melting away as she felt more at ease. “Yeah, probably for the best.”

Johnny nodded and grabbed a clean glass, filling it with water before sliding it in front of her. "So, what brings you back this time? Everything okay?"

Y/n looked up at him, the faintest hint of hesitation in her gaze before she spoke. "I just wanted to thank you properly...for last night…and Monday night. I didn’t really get the chance to, and I felt like I should."

Johnny's smile softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter now. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you had someone to talk to. Sometimes that’s all we really need.”

For a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade away, and Y/n felt a brief but genuine connection with him. It was strange, how in just a few brief conversations, he had become someone she could turn to when everything else felt uncertain.

"Well," Y/n said, feeling a little bolder, "I’m glad I came back."

Johnny met her eyes, his gaze steady and warm. “Me too.”

Johnny returned to the bar, grabbing a dry lemonade from the shelf before placing it in front of Y/n with a smile. "Here you go. Something a little sweeter this time, right?" he said, his tone light and friendly.

Y/n took the glass, offering him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Johnny."

He nodded, his eyes briefly meeting hers before turning his attention to another customer at the end of the bar. 

"I’ll be right with you," he said before walking off to take their order, leaving Y/n to relax with her drink.

The moment was short-lived, however. As she sipped the lemonade, she felt someone standing beside her at the bar. She looked up to see a man, probably in his late twenties, leaning against the counter, an easy smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice smooth but with an edge that made Y/n feel uneasy. "I saw you take a seat here just now. Mind if I ask your name?"

Y/n's smile faltered, a slight unease creeping up her spine. She didn't feel comfortable with this sudden attention, especially from someone she didn't know. 

She quickly tried to deflect, tapping her fingers nervously against her glass. "Uh, I’m just here to relax. I’m not really looking to talk."

The man didn't seem to take the hint, though, stepping closer and continuing, “Oh come on, just a name? You from ‘round here?”

Y/n’s discomfort deepened as he pressed, crossing a line she wasn't ready to let him cross. She opened her mouth to decline again, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

Johnny returned, wiping his hands on a rag and noticing the man standing too close to Y/n. Without missing a beat, he placed a hand on the counter, leaning in toward the guy.

“The little lady doesn’t want to talk to you,” Johnny said, his tone calm but firm, eyes cool as he sized up the man.

The stranger seemed to hesitate, taken aback by Johnny's sudden intervention. He gave Y/n a lingering look before backing off, muttering something under his breath as he walked away.

Y/n glanced at Johnny, her relief clear in her expression. "Thanks," she said softly, her voice still a little shaky.

Johnny gave her a small, reassuring smile, his posture relaxed. "No problem. You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that," he said, before turning to handle another customer.

As Johnny walked away, Y/n found her gaze lingering on him, her thoughts a jumble of confusion and warmth. She’d never had a guy, other than Yangyang, stand up for her like that. There was something so effortless about the way Johnny had handled the situation, like it wasn’t even a question that he’d step in to help her.

Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Feeling this way over something so simple, a few words, a protective gesture. But it wasn’t just the act itself, it was the way he’d done it. Calm, confident, and with an underlying care that felt genuine. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to have someone like Johnny in her corner, someone who didn’t just look out for her because they felt obligated, but because they wanted to.

Y/n shook her head slightly, trying to push the thought away, but the faint warmth in her chest remained.

Her heart shouldn’t be reacting like this, not to someone she barely knew. Yet there it was, betraying her with every quickened beat.

Johnny returned a few moments later, leaning casually against the bar. His easy smile was back, directed right at her, making her heart flutter.

“So,” he began, his tone light and conversational, “get up to much today?”

The question caught Y/n off guard. It had been a while since someone had shown genuine interest in her day. 

“Nah, not much,” she replied with a small shrug. “Just lectures and stuff.”

“Oh, studying, are you? What courses?” Johnny asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly in interest.

“Biochem and Stats,” Y/n said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Johnny let out a low whistle. “Impressive. And you actually enjoy that?”

Y/n laughed, the sound breaking through the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying. “Not always,” she admitted, “but I’m pretty good at it.”

Johnny chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill the space between them. “Being good at something doesn’t mean you have to like it, huh? I get that. But hey, Biochem and Stats? Sounds like you’ve got some serious brains.”

Y/n felt her cheeks flush slightly at the compliment, her smile turning shy. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Johnny tilted his head, giving her a playful, skeptical look. “Oh, I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re selling yourself short.”

Their conversation was interrupted briefly as Johnny reached over to grab a glass, ready to serve another customer. But even as he worked, Y/n noticed how his attention never fully left her, as if he was genuinely invested in their small talk. For the first time in a long while, she felt seen, and it was both unsettling and comforting all at once.

-

The night had quieted, the earlier buzz fading into a mellow hum. The bar was never completely still, but this was as close to peace as it got. Johnny leaned against the counter, his arms crossed casually as he listened to Y/n talk about one of her professors and other people with her lectures. She animated her stories with gestures, her earlier shyness fading as the minutes passed.

Johnny couldn’t help but smile as he watched her. He knew why she’d come back tonight. She hadn’t said it outright, but it was written all over her. She needed someone to talk to. 

Someone who wouldn’t dismiss her feelings or turn her vulnerability into a weapon. Johnny was more than okay with being that person.

She was young, still figuring out who she was and how to navigate the parts of life that felt heavier than they should. Her strained relationship with her dad had left a gap in her life, the kind that only someone older, someone steady, could help fill. 

She wasn’t looking for pity or solutions, she just needed someone to listen. Someone to treat her like her thoughts mattered.

He glanced at her as she laughed softly at something she’d said, her guard down in a way that felt rare. Johnny’s chest tightened with a protective instinct he hadn’t expected. 

He’d seen people like her before, people who carried too much for their age, who needed a safe place to land, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t see her as a problem to solve or a burden to bear. She was just...someone who needed a little light, and he didn’t mind being that for her.

Johnny glanced at the clock on the wall, noting how the hours had slipped by. The bar had quieted even further, and the streetlights outside cast soft halos against the darkened windows. He turned back to Y/n, his expression softer now.

“It’s getting late,” he said gently. “You should think about heading home.”

Y/n blinked, the words pulling her out of their conversation. She glanced down at her phone, realizing how much time had passed. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, slipping her bag over her shoulder as she stood up.

As she pushed her stool back, Johnny’s voice stopped her. “You gonna call your friend again to come pick you up?”

She hesitated, her hand tightening slightly on the strap of her bag. “Um, no...not this time,” she admitted, her tone quieter now. “Yangyang didn’t really want me coming back here, so it’s probably best if I just walk home.”

Johnny frowned at that, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the bar. “Walk? At this hour?” He shook his head. “Mhmm, I don’t know, it’s a bit too late, don’t you think?”

Y/n shrugged, offering him a small, half-hearted smile. “It’s not a long walk, I’ll be fine.”

Johnny didn’t budge. “How about this…you hang out here for another hour while I finish up, and I’ll drive you home.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You’d...drive me home?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s late, and I’d rather know you got home safe.”

Y/n stood there, her mind racing. She barely knew him, they’d talked a lot in the hours which she was in the bar, but this was...unexpected. Still, the thought of walking home alone in the dark didn’t seem so appealing now, and something about the sincerity in his voice made her feel like she could trust him, especially considering how he drove her home the other night.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice almost cautious. “I don’t want to be a pain or anything.”

Johnny waved a hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I’m not letting you walk home this late. So, sit back down and relax for a bit.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before nodding, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay...thank you, Johnny. Really.”

He returned her smile with an easy one of his own, nodding toward the stool she’d just left. “No problem.”

Y/n slid back onto the stool, her heart racing for reasons she didn’t entirely understand. Johnny turned back to the bar, tending to the few remaining customers, but she couldn’t stop glancing at him, still stunned by his offer. It wasn’t every day someone went out of their way for her like this, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. But for now, she was grateful.

-

As the hour ticked by, the bar emptied out, leaving only a couple of stragglers with their drinks in quiet corners. Johnny moved with practiced ease, wiping down the counter, stacking glasses, and tidying up behind the bar. His movements were efficient, but he didn’t rush, taking the time to nod politely to the last few patrons as they gathered their things and headed out into the night.

Y/n stayed seated, watching him work. The way he moved, so steady and calm, made her feel oddly at ease despite the situation. He caught her looking a couple of times and threw her a casual grin, making her cheeks warm as she glanced away.

Finally, Johnny flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’, locking it behind the last customer. He turned back to Y/n, brushing his hands off on a bar towel as he approached.

“Well, that’s it for tonight,” he said, setting the towel down. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, standing and adjusting her bag. “Yeah, thanks for taking me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the hook behind the counter. “Let me just grab my keys, and we’ll head out.”

Y/n waited by the bar as Johnny disappeared into the back for a moment. When he returned, keys jingling in his hand, he gestured toward the door.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he said, his tone warm but firm.

Y/n followed him out, stepping into the cool night air. The streets were quiet now, and the soft hum of the city lights felt almost serene. Johnny walked beside her to the small parking lot behind the bar, where an old but well-kept honda civic waited.

“Not exactly a luxury ride,” he joked as he unlocked the passenger door, holding it open for her. “But it’ll get you there.”

Y/n slid into the seat, her heart fluttering slightly at his gesture. “It got me home last time, I’m sure it’s perfect this time. Thank you.”

Johnny rounded the car and got in, starting the engine with a low rumble. As they pulled out onto the empty street, a sense of comfort ran through her.

“I’m surprised you remembered anything from last time. You were wasted!” Johnny said with a laugh, his voice light and teasing.

Y/n groaned, immediately covering her face with her hands. “God, don’t remind me! That was so embarrassing! I’m so sorry you had to deal with me while I was drunk.”

Johnny leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with an amused grin. “Ah, don’t feel too bad. At least you had the decency to vomit in a gutter instead of the bar floor.”

“Mortifying,” Y/n muttered, peeking at him through her fingers. “But sure, go ahead, keep laughing at my misery.”

“Oh, I will,” Johnny replied, his laughter bubbling up again.

Y/n couldn’t help but glance at him as he laughed, the sound warm and genuine. The way his cheeks lifted, the faint lines around his eyes deepening as they crinkled with amusement, it was mesmerizing. Johnny was beautiful, in a way she hadn’t fully registered until now.

His laughter softened, and he tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. “You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone’s had a rough night now and then. You handled it better than most.”

“Better than most?” Y/n asked skeptically, lowering her hands.

“Trust me,” Johnny said, his grin widening, “I’ve seen it all. You’re far from the worst.”

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Well, that’s...somewhat comforting.”

“Glad to help,” Johnny said with a mock bow of his head, making her laugh this time.

Y/n tilted her head, as she leaned slightly towards Johnny. “Do you often drive patrons home…like you did with me?”

Johnny smirked, shaking his head. “Not a chance.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, really? You drove me home.”

Johnny shrugged casually, his hands on the wheel. “Let’s just say you didn’t strike me as someone who’d regularly find themselves in that kind of situation. And you looked...lost. Like you needed someone to step in.”

Y/n blinked, his words catching her off guard. “Oh. Well, I guess you were right,” she admitted quietly, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve.

Johnny looked over to her briefly before looking back on the road. “I’ve been bartending long enough to know the difference between someone who’s just drinking for the fuck of it and someone who’s looking for escape. You seemed like the latter.”

Her throat tightened slightly, and she gave a small nod. “Yeah...I guess I was.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Johnny added, his tone lightening. “Most of the time, my job ends at making drinks and cutting people off when they’ve had enough. But with you? I don’t know. I just felt you needed the help.”

Y/n bit her lip, unsure how to respond to that. She glanced at him, searching his expression for any hint of an ulterior motive, but all she saw was sincerity.

“That’s...really kind of you,” she said softly, offering him a faint smile.

Johnny chuckled. “Don’t give me too much credit. It’s not like I’m some saint. I just figured someone should make sure you got home safe.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at his humility, shaking her head. “Well, thanks. I guess I’m lucky you were the one working that night.”

Johnny tilted his head with a smirk. “Yeah, you are. And don’t forget it.”

Johnny's car came to a smooth stop outside Y/n’s house, the soft hum of the engine fading as he shifted into park. She stared out the window at the familiar house, her heart sinking slightly. She didn’t want to leave, not yet.

The warmth of Johnny’s presence beside her in the car, the comfort of his easy conversation, and the strange sense of safety she felt, it was all so different from what was inside the house, waiting for her.

She sighed, her hand hesitating on the door handle. “Well...thanks for the ride,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Anytime,” Johnny replied.

Y/n was just about to push the door open when Johnny’s voice stopped her. “Hold on a second.”

She turned back to him, surprised, as he reached up and pulled a pen from the overhead sunshade. Her heart skipped as he gently took her hand in his, his touch warm.

Johnny didn’t say anything as he leaned over slightly, his focus entirely on her hand as he wrote something carefully on her skin. Y/n’s mind blanked, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers lightly brushing against her palm.

It wasn’t until he let her go and she glanced down that she realized what he had done. His number was scrawled neatly across her hand, the ink stark against her skin.

Her eyes darted back to him, wide with surprise.

Johnny leaned back, his expression calm but unreadable. “If you ever need to talk…or a ride! Just call. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”

Y/n’s lips parted, but no words came out. The gesture was so unexpected, so simple, yet it felt like the most special thing anyone had done for her in a long time.

“Thanks,” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny gave her a small smile, his hand resting casually on the steering wheel. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

She nodded, still stunned by the action. “I will. Thanks again, Johnny.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he said, his voice low.

With that, Y/n pushed the door open and stepped out, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She glanced back once as Johnny gave her a small wave before driving off, the tail lights of his car disappearing into the distance. 

-

Y/n had been replaying that interaction with Johnny in her mind for a week now, yet the thought of actually using his number still made her stomach twist in knots.

The very night she got home, she had saved his number to her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed it in. But every time she thought about texting him, her nerves got the better of her. 

Would she come across as pushy? Annoying? What if he regretted giving her his number?

But, God, did she want to message him.

Her thoughts distracted her as she walked down the street. She was on her way to a café where her dad had promised to meet her. She adjusted the strap of her bag, trying to push Johnny out of her mind.

Entering the café, she offered a polite smile to the staff behind the counter before finding a small table near the window. Sliding into the chair, she leaned back, checking the time. She was about three minutes early, but that was fine. Her dad would probably walk through the door any second now.

At least, that’s what she thought.

Ten minutes passed. Y/n’s gaze flicked back to her phone. No texts. No calls. Nothing. She sighed, her fingers drumming on the table as frustration and disappointment started to bubble up.

Finally, she decided to call him. She stared at her screen for a moment before hitting the button, holding the phone to her ear as the line rang.

“Hey, Bub,” her dad answered, his tone casual.

“Where are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, fuck!” her dad cursed on the other end of the line. “I completely forgot. I’m so sorry, Bub. I can’t make it today.”

Her heart sank, though she couldn’t say she was surprised. Disappointed? Always. But surprised? Never.

“Oh, okay,” she said softly, gripping her phone a little tighter.

“I can send you some money to get yourself something if you’d like,” he offered, as if that could somehow make up for standing her up.

“No, it’s okay,” she said, her voice quieter now. “See you at home.”

“Alright, see ya. Bye.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Y/n lowered her phone slowly, staring at the screen as if it might somehow offer her the explanation or comfort her dad couldn’t. She sat there for a moment, her appetite gone and her mood sinking further.

Her fingers hovered over her contacts list. For a fleeting moment, she thought about calling Johnny. She hadn’t used his number yet, but maybe now was the time. 

What if he was busy? What if he didn’t really mean for her to call? 

The anxiety crept in again, but so did the urge to feel even a fraction of the comfort he’d given her that night in the car.

She stared at his name on the screen, her finger hesitating over the call button. Should I?

Fuck it.

With a deep breath, Y/n hit the call button on Johnny's contact and held the phone to her ear. Her heart raced with every passing second, her pulse thudding louder as the ringing began.

“Hello?” Johnny's familiar voice came through, smooth and warm.

“Hey, it’s Y/n,” she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“Y/n!” His tone instantly brightened, cheerful and welcoming. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you. What’s up?”

“I was supposed to have lunch with my dad, but...he kinda stood me up,” she admitted softly.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, maybe reassurance, maybe just someone to make her feel like she mattered, but she knew Johnny’s words would be the comfort she needed.

“Shit,” Johnny said, his voice filled with concern. “Where are you right now?”

“Bristo,” Y/n replied, glancing at the bustling street outside the cafe.

“Alright, give me a minute. I’ll come to you,” Johnny said without hesitation.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” she said quickly, guilt creeping in. “I don’t even know why I called you...”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in five,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Before she could protest again, she heard the soft click of the line disconnecting. Y/n stared at her phone, equal parts relieved and surprised. She couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips, Johnny always seemed to know exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t.

True to his word, Johnny arrived. Y/n spotted him the moment he stepped into the café, his tall frame impossible to miss. He paused just inside the door, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. A smile immediately lit up his face, one that sent a wave of warmth washing over her.

He strode over, pulling out the chair across from her and settling into it. “Hey,” he said, his tone light, as if he’d been meeting her here all along. “You okay?”

Y/n gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to.”

Johnny leaned back, giving her a look. “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t show up when someone needed me?” He glanced around the café briefly. “So, what’s good here?”

She smiled softly, relaxing a little. “I didn’t really look...I guess I wasn’t in the mood to eat by myself.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re not alone anymore.” Johnny picked up the menu, scanning it. “What do you think? Should we split something? Or are you more possessive over your food?”

Y/n laughed, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Depends on how good the food,” she teased.

Johnny smirked. “Fair enough. We’ll test that theory. Two coffees and an order of fries to share sound good?”

She nodded, feeling a little lighter already. “Can I have an iced chocolate?” 

“Of course, you can,” Johnny said with a warm smile, standing up and heading toward the counter to place their order.

Y/n watched him as he walked away, she couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly he managed to brighten her day, how his presence seemed to fill the space around him with a quiet kind of assurance. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he showed up, it was the way he made her feel seen, like her bad day truly mattered to him. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like someone was actually in her corner.

Johnny returned to the table with a numbered stand, setting it down in the center before settling back into his chair. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table as his gaze softened.

“So,” he started, his tone gentle, “how’re you feeling? I mean…about your dad and all.”

Y/n let out a small sigh, her fingers tracing patterns on the edge of the table as she avoided his eyes. “I don’t know… It’s not the first time he’s bailed on me. I guess I wasn’t really surprised.”

Johnny nodded, his expression empathetic. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, though.”

“Yeah,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just…I keep hoping, you know? Like maybe one day he’ll actually show up, maybe he’ll prove me wrong. But he never does.”

Johnny’s jaw tightened for a moment, the flicker of frustration on her behalf evident. “You deserve better than that,” he said firmly. “You shouldn’t have to keep waiting for scraps of attention.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. She glanced up at him, her throat tightening. “It’s just…hard to give up on him. He’s my dad.”

“I get that,” Johnny replied, his voice steady. “But sometimes, people don’t give you what you need. Not because you’re asking for too much, but because they can’t. And that’s on them, not you.”

Y/n blinked, her chest tightening at the honesty in his tone. “You’re really good at this, you know,” she said softly, managing a small smile.

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know about that. I just know what it’s like to need someone to show up when it matters. And if he won’t, then I guess it’s a good thing you called me.”

Her smile grew just a little as warmth spread through her chest. 

The server arrived with their food, setting down a plate of crispy fries in the center of the table, followed by Johnny’s coffee and Y/n’s iced chocolate. The clink of the cup meeting the table seemed to break the tension, and for a moment, the two simply dug into the fries, letting the silence settle before continuing their conversation.

Johnny nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke again. "When did this all start, then? I mean, the whole thing with your dad."

Y/n sighed, picking up another fry and slowly chewing it, trying to find the right words. "It started when I moved in with him," she said quietly, her voice quieter than usual. "Before that, I used to live with my mom, and I’d just visit my dad on weekends or holidays. I didn’t think much of it. He was always...distant, but I thought it was because of the distance. But even after moving in, it was always off."

Johnny’s eyes softened as he listened, understanding in his gaze. He stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.

"But when my mom passed, I didn’t have a choice. I had to move in with him." She paused, running a finger along the edge of her iced chocolate cup. "I thought it would be fine. I figured, hey, he’s my dad. He’ll step up. But...the more time I spent with him, the more I realized how much...it wasn’t fine."

She swallowed hard, her chest tight at the memory. "I didn’t notice how strained our relationship was when I only saw him for a couple of days at a time. But living with him...living with him made me see everything I missed. I thought maybe it would change, you know? But it feels like he doesn’t care enough to try."

Johnny’s gaze was steady, his voice gentle. "I’m sorry, Y/n. That’s a heavy thing to go through, especially at your age. Losing your mom, then having to face a whole new kind of relationship with your dad."

"Yeah," she whispered, her fingers trembling slightly as she wrapped them around her cup. "I didn’t expect it to be this hard. I used to just brush it off, tell myself it was fine because I had my mom, and I only saw him for short periods of time. But now...I don’t know. It’s like everything’s coming down on me all at once. I thought maybe he’d change, but he never does."

Johnny leaned forward slightly, his tone soft but firm. "He should’ve stepped up when you needed him, but that’s on him, not you. You’re not the one at fault here, Y/n. You’re doing your best to deal with everything that’s been thrown at you."

Y/n looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a warmth there, a quiet reassurance that made her feel a little lighter. She took a deep breath, her chest aching, but somehow not as tightly as before.

"Thanks, Johnny. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. You probably didn’t want to hear about my messed-up family problems when we first met–outside the bar, I mean."

Johnny chuckled softly, the sound like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the heaviness. "Hey, everyone has their stuff, right? We all have our problems. But I’m glad you feel comfortable talking to me about it. And don’t worry, it’s not a burden. If anything, it’s good to get it off your chest."

Y/n felt a little smile tug at the corners of her mouth, the weight in her chest easing just a bit more. "I appreciate it. Really."

Johnny smiled back, his eyes kind but steady. "Anytime, Y/n. Anytime."

After they finished their meal, Y/n and Johnny stood up from the table, ready to leave. Johnny paid for their food, even when Y/n tried to insist she could cover it. He just waved her off with a smile, saying it was his treat and that she could get the next one.

"You're stubborn," Y/n teased as they walked out of the cafe, the door chiming softly behind them.

Johnny just grinned, giving a shrug. "I know, but just means you’ll have to pay next time." He threw her a playful look.

Her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest. He wanted to hang out with her again. Y/n had to look down to hide the blush creeping up her face.

They walked side by side down the sidewalk for a moment, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Johnny’s voice broke the comfortable silence.

"So, what are you up to now?" he asked, glancing over at her with curiosity.

Y/n sighed, the events of the day weighing on her a little. "I’m just gonna head home. I only planned to have lunch with dad, nothing else."

Johnny nodded in understanding, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, that didn’t go as planned."

Y/n gave a small, wry smile. "That’s one way to put it."

After a beat, Johnny looked over at her with a suggestion. "Well, I don’t have any plans, and if you’re up for it, you could come hang out at my place for a bit. It’s probably better than sitting alone, right?"

There he goes again, making her heart beat like crazy. 

Y/n looked at him, surprised by the offer but a little relieved. "You sure?" she asked, hesitant at first.

"Yeah," Johnny said with a reassuring smile. "I mean, I’ve got nothing to do, and if you’re feeling like talking or just...you know, distracting yourself, my place is open. Plus, I can drive you home later, whenever you're ready."

Y/n didn’t even have to think about it for long. She felt surprisingly comfortable with Johnny, and after the weird day she’d had, spending some time with him felt like a good way to unwind.

"Okay," she said, her smile soft but grateful.  

They made their way to Johnny’s car, the drive going by smoothly. As Y/n leaned back in the passenger seat, Johnny glanced at her a few times, but didn’t say much, content to let the silence settle between them, only broken by the occasional hum of the car or the soft sound of the radio playing in the background.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Johnny’s apartment building, Y/n glanced up at the modest complex. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple, window-fronted building with a few balconies and potted plants by the entrance. Despite its plain exterior, there was something inviting about it, maybe it was Johnny’s presence, maybe it was his smile.

 Getting in the building, they took the elevator up. She was half-expecting Johnny to give her a formal, awkward tour of the place, but instead, he just nodded toward the door, indicating for her to enter.

The inside was just as she imagined, simple, a little cluttered but warm, with a lived-in vibe that made it feel instantly comfortable. A worn leather couch sat against the far wall, by a low coffee table tv remotes and a half-empty cup of coffee.

"Home sweet home," Johnny said with a small grin as he locked the door behind them. "Make yourself comfortable."

Y/n smiled as she slipped off her shoes, glancing around. "It’s nice. I like it."

"Well, my apartment is like any other," Johnny chuckled. "Not much, but it works for me."

He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of glasses. "You want something to drink? Water? Juice?"

"Water please," Y/n said, taking a seat on the couch. 

She looked around, taking in the personal touches scattered throughout the apartment, a few framed photos on the shelves, some cds and records in the corner, and a couple of potted plants by the window.

A few moments later, Johnny handed her a glass of water before settling down on the side table beside her, a comfortable silence hanging between them.

"You know," Y/n said, breaking the quiet as she swirled her glass, "I really wasn’t expecting my day to end like this."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Hanging out in some guy’s apartment after your dad ditched lunch?"

Y/n laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah."

"Well, if it helps, you’ve made my day more interesting," Johnny said, leaning back against the cushions. "I was just gonna spend the afternoon binge-watching something stupid."

"I mean, you can still do that, you just have company now," Y/n said, smiling a little as she relaxed into the couch. "I don’t mind watching something stupid with you."

Johnny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright then, but you can pick."

Y/n thought for a moment, then grinned. "SpongeBob?"

Johnny blinked, caught off guard by her choice before a slow smile spread across his face. "Spongebob it is. A real big girl pick."

He grabbed the remote, flicking through streaming options until he found the show. As the theme song blared from the TV, Y/n couldn’t help but smile a little, already feeling lighter. Johnny sat back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence as they watched the ridiculous antics of a yellow sponge unfold.

It was halfway through an episode, some scene involving jellyfishing, when Johnny glanced over at her, noticing the way her expression had grown more subdued, as if her mind was elsewhere. He didn’t say anything at first, waiting until the end of the episode before speaking.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his voice low.

Y/n hesitated, keeping her eyes on the screen for a moment before sighing. "I guess…I don’t know. It just hit me again, how weird things are with my dad."

Johnny didn’t interrupt, letting her find the right words.

"It’s just…frustating," Y/n continued, playing with the hem of her sleeve. "Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. But he’s just so infuriating. Like I barely get to hang out with him, as you can tell, but even when I used to try hang out with him at home, he’s brush me off and get annoyed, so I stopped. I don’t doubt that he loves me, but he makes it so difficult. He’s not at all abusive, but he makes me feel so ignored."

Johnny frowned slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "So he’s just really distant…doesn’t give you the time of day?"

"Exactly," Y/n said quietly. "I’m just a constant bother to him."

Johnny nodded, leaning forward slightly. "You want him to show up for you, but it feels like he won’t."

Y/n swallowed hard, the truth of his words striking her. "Yeah. And I don’t know how to deal with that anymore. I keep trying, but…it’s exhausting."

They sat in silence for a beat, the sound of the next episode playing in the background.

"You ever feel like...things are just never gonna get better with someone?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny was quiet for a moment before answering. "Yeah. I think everyone feels that way at some point. But it doesn’t always mean things are stuck forever. Sometimes, you’ve gotta figure out what you need first, and if you can’t get it from that person, you might need to find it elsewhere."

Y/n looked over at him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don’t know if he’ll ever be the dad I need him to be."

Johnny turned toward her, his expression serious but warm. "Sometimes people can’t be what we want them to be. That’s not on you. But it’s okay to take care of yourself. You don’t have to keep putting yourself through it if it’s just hurting you."

For a moment, Y/n didn’t say anything, letting his words sink in. It was hard to accept, but hearing it from Johnny felt...freeing, like he understood in a way not many people did.

"Thanks, Johnny," she said softly, offering a small, sincere smile. "Really."

He smiled back, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. "Anytime. Back to Spongebob?"

Y/n chuckled and nodded as she turned her attention back to the screen. It wasn’t the day she planned, but sitting there, watching cartoons with Johnny, she realized it was exactly what she needed.

Johnny leaned back into the couch, pretending to focus on the show playing in front of them. But his eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, to Y/n. She was sitting quietly, her gaze fixed on the screen, but he could tell her mind was still elsewhere, probably circling back to her dad. He had seen that look before, in the mirror of all places.

It wasn’t the first time he found himself just...watching her. Not in a creepy way, but in those moments where he couldn’t help but notice little things, like how the corners of her lips twitched up slightly when something made her smile, even if it was brief. Or how she played with her fingers at random times. It was those small details that caught his attention, and sometimes, if he wasn’t careful, it caught too much of his attention.

You need to stop looking at her like that, Johnny.

The thought hit him hard, like a warning he had to keep reminding himself of. She was younger than him, too young for him to be having moments like this. But no matter how many times he told himself that, there was something about her that made it difficult to look away.

Her dad clearly didn’t see it. Didn’t see how much she needed someone to be there for her, to just show up. And Johnny…well, he clearly wasn’t her dad, wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a bartender, but damn it, he could be there.

If no one else was going to step up, he was willing to. He couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting alone, waiting for someone who wasn’t coming.

He hated that she felt this way, that someone so vibrant, who could light up a room with her laugh, was carrying this weight around like it was hers alone to bear.

And as much as he knew he shouldn’t get too involved, there was a part of him that didn’t care. If she needed someone, he was more than ready to fill that role, even if it meant risking a little heartache of his own.

Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Y/n turned toward him, catching his eye with a soft smile that made something stir in his chest. 

"You okay over there?" she asked, her voice light, but her gaze curious. 

Johnny smirked, pushing aside his deeper thoughts for now. "Yeah. Just thinking about your choice of entertainment." 

Y/n laughed quietly. "It’s silly and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Always brings me comfort." 

He smiled back. Johnny realized he didn’t mind spending the rest of his day like this, just sitting beside her, watching silly cartoons, and being exactly where he wanted to be.

-

A/N: BAM! Part one out the gate Again, these fics ended up wAY too long for no reason, so I had to seperate them into different parts, but shouldn't be a big deal, lol I hope you enjoyed this part and read the next two :) Thank you for reading 💚

[bravo4iscool]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a friends to lovers x reader for any of the 141 (you get to choose) where the reader is plus size and she avoids them touching her? Because she knows she's plus size and doesn't think this super attractive soldier would ever even like her, much less her body, and every time she is touched she kinda pulls away, but our soldiers are so down bad for her? 👀 And ultimately maybe she gets pulled onto a lap and immediately tries to get off? Smut or no smut, it's up to you!

Thank you lovely!! 💞💞

i like this. i like this very very much hehehehe. i chose simon (i always chose him, i really have to change that😭) (i hope you're okay with that tho. it's my personal headcanon that that man is a chubby chaser by heart lol).

as someone who's also plus-size i adore requests like this so much! i hope i could write it the way you imagined it :)

also, sorry this took me so long😭. i had a bit of a slump lol (also, please give me feedback on the smut part, i never really write smut🥲 and im a virgin lmao)

smut, plus-size!reader, unprotected sex, p in v, fem!reader, not proof-read!

(masterlist | join my tag list!)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

tag list - @yazt09 @blackhawkfanatic @bumblebeesfromvenus

"don't touch me simon," you mumble as you push his hands away. "you know i don't like that..." you shuffle away from him and clutch the little notepad you scribble down your customers orders.

he frowns—as always—and gives you a small smile. “‘m sorry lovie. i forgot.”

you nod and straighten your back. “your usual?” you ask, already knowing that he’ll answer with yes. and he does. then you look at the rest of the team, one eyebrow raised. it was rare that they took something else than their usual.

“positive,” price replies, as well as gaz.

“i’ll take whatever ye gimme,” johnny winks and you feel yourself blush. simon just rolls his eyes. he’s getting fed up with his best friend already.

you give johnny a honest smile and scribble something down. “10 minutes and i will be back with your drinks,” you tell them, turning to leave.

once you were out of reach johnny elbowed simon into the side, a devilish smirk on his face. “have ye told ye lassie that ye like her?” he wants to know, wiggling with his eyebrows.

“zip it johnny,” simon only grumbles, starting to bounce his knee. “i ain’t tellin’er nothin’.”

“but why? ye clearly like her.” johnny frowns. if he were in simon’s position he would’ve shot his shot weeks, if not months ago. you were—you were perfection. those curves, those hips and—god forbid—your stomach.

you were hypnotising and you didn’t even know it. johnny didn’t understand how simon could just sit and watch you. he would’ve done anything to get a taste of you, or even just a glance.

“she ain’t interested n’me johnny,” simon sighs after a moment of silence. “i won’t destroy what we have over my stupid feelings.” and with that the debate was over for simon.

before johnny could answer you return with the drinks, placing them down onto the table. “here ya go,” you smile.

“thanks lassie,” johnny grins, patting your hand. you immediately pull away.

you try to overplay it. “no problem. let me know if you need anything else.” you leave with hurried steps, praying you wouldn’t encounter touch again this evening.

-

‘fuck’ you thought when you realize: all seats were taken. this was not good, nope. you just wanted to turn around and leave without anyone taking a notice of you.

but then soap notices you, “ey lassie. com’ere!” he smiles and waves at you. with hesitant steps you walk in his and simon’s direction. giving a apologetic look to the other people. this was a movie night, not some coffee gossip round. it was rare that you were on base and on most occasions you tried to avoid it but johnny and gaz practically begged you to come so you had no other chance than to say yes.

a few moments later you stood in front of the group of men—your friends—unsure what to do. were you just gonna sit on the ground or… before you can even finish that thought a arm wraps around your waist and someone pulls you into their lap. you can‘t suppress a small yelp, your eyes blow wide.

“‘s j‘st me,“ simon whispers into your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine. you wanted to leave. now.

“simon,“ you hiss. “let me go. i‘m way too heavy for you—“

but instead of following your request his arm around your waist only tightens. “i‘m a big guy. i can handle it,“ he only says in a low voice. with that the topic was done for him and you knew arguing wouldn‘t make sense. once simon was determined about something there was no way to chance his mind.

so, you sat in his lap the whole movie, squirming from time to time; afraid you were too heavy for him, afraid that you would hurt him in any way. meanwhile, his hands were caressing our waist, pulling you closer to him so you‘d stop wiggling around. if you wouldn‘t stop he‘d some have a problem…

beside simon johnny was throwing side glances at him, smirking when he noticed the struggles his best friend was having. he wished he was in that position… if only he‘d been a tad faster than simon you‘d sit in his lap right now and he knew he wouldn‘t be the same after than.

“y‘alright lassie?“ johnny asks as soon as the movie is over and the lights got turned on. your face was red and your pupils blown wide. you only manage a nod, trying your best to get off simon‘s lap as normal—and fast—as possible.

“i think—i think i‘ll go home now. i have work tomorrow morning,“ you smile, still embarrassed. “i hope i‘ll see you tomorrow or are you shipping out?“

“not for at least two weeks,“ simon answers and you nod and turn to leave but then he gets up too and you stop in your tracks. you raise your eyebrow at him and he shrugs. “‘m gonna get ya home,“ he simply says and you nod again.

“alright. see you soon guys,“ you wave your goodbyes to gaz and johnny.

once you and simon where out of reach johnny started to smirk. “ohhhh, he‘s tryna get laid,“ he laughs, glancing at gaz beside him.

“100%“ the other man agrees, hiding his laughter behind his hand. “the question is if she‘s understanding all the signs…“

-

you unlock your door, simon towering over you from behind, his presence like a burning sensation you couldn‘t seem to ignore. “and we‘re there,“ you chuckle, stepping aside. “you can, uh, leave now,“ you tell him but instead of turning around he takes a step inside your flat, closing the door behind him.

“what if i don‘t want to?“ he asks, slowly coming closer to you. “what…if i want to spend the night with you, mh?“ he‘s looking down at you, his hand itching towards to your face.

you swallow, trying to hold his gaze; it seemed impossible. “why would you want that?“ you want to know, unable to phantom any reason he—out of all men—would want to spend a night with you.

he smiles at your question and lowers his head. “because i like you,“ is his answer before he starts to trails kisses down your throat. your breath gets caught and your hands rush to grip his arms. what was happening right now? this must be a dream…

"if you want t'stop, tell me," he mumbles against your neck, slowly pushing you back until your back hits your drawer. you swallow but turn your head to give him more space. it just felt so good.

your breath hitches when he finds your weak spot. "i don't want to stop," you manage to say and you feel him smirk against your skin.

he scoops you up into his arms and you yelp. "that was what i wanted t'hear," he says and seconds later his lips collide with yours as he makes his way to your bedroom. you feel like a feather in his arms, so light and free.

"been wantin' t'do this f'r a long time," simon breathes against your lips when he gently drops you down onto your bed and he pulls back. "y'look so beautiful..." his eyes admire you and you start to blush. you weren't used to being appreciated like that. especially not by men like simon.

he sits up, kneeling in front of you. then he pulls off his shirt in a smooth motion, tossing it aside. your eyes widen and you swallow again. oh steaming jesus, he looked better than you thought–

and suddenly you get aware of your looks again. you try to hide behind your arms as fast as possible, not wanting simon to see but he beats you to it. with gentle hands he grabs your wrists and pulls them away. "why're you doing that, mh?" he wants to know and you avert your gaze.

"i...don't know..." you mumble. "i just–"

he cuts you off before you can finish, "y'think i don't find ya attractive, do ya?" your blush is answer enough and he bents down. "you're the most attractive woman i've ever laid m'eyes upon..." he tells you in a whisper, placing kisses upon your face.

"you don't–"

"oh, i mean it. with every fiber of my being," he, again, cuts you off, not wanting you to doubt his attraction to you. you were beautiful, etheral even, and he didn't know how other men didn't see it. "let me worship you," he pleads, kissing your lips.

he pulls slightly back again and looks in your eyes. he wanted your consent before continung. if you'd say no, he'd stop. if you'd say yes, he would ravish you.

you hesitate for a second before you drag him back down by his neck and press a kiss to his lips. "please," you choke out, looking at him with hooded eyes.

he smiles, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, pushing it upwards. "your wish is my command love." with gentle hands he starts to undress you, trailing kisses all over your body. he wanted to you to feel good about yourself, to feel attractive.

and with every passing moment he was itching down towards your core, smirking when he feels you twitching and shuddering.

“si—simon,” you moan when his lips ghost over your clothed cunt.

he does it again, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “shhhh,” he coos, his tumb caressing your thigh. “b’good f’r me, will ya?” he was straining himself to not rip your clothes off when he started undressing you piece by piece. he wanted to cherish you, burn the image of you sprawled across your bed—naked—into his mind. who knew when he’d be able to see you like that again?

it felt like a haze, the way he was undressing and worshipping your body, his eyes rarely leaving yours. he wanted to you feel seen, to feel lusted after because that was exactly what he was doing.

he came face to face with you again, his lips finding yours while his hand cupped your pussy. your breath hitched. “so ready for me,” he chuckles, his tumb carefully starting to stimulate your clit.

a whine escapes you when he pulls his hand back after a few moments and he can’t suppress a smirk. “oh, ya needy, aren’t ya?” you only manage a nod, your mouth falling open when you feel him slipping one finger inside. “gon’ work ya well open first, love,” he tells you before he starts to litter you with kisses again.

with a steady rhythm he pumps his finger in and out of you, trying to pay attention to your body’s reaction as best as possible. he wanted to make this about you and you only.

he was sucking bruises onto your skin while moans dripped past your lips. oh, he felt like he was in heaven. “keep makin’ them sounds f’r me love,” he mumbles as he starts to hump your bed. his dick was painfully hard by now and he needed to feel some relief.

you gasp and writhe and whine, grabbing his arm to feel something between your hands. “please simon,” you cry out with your back arching off the mattress. “i wanna—“ he shuts you up with a kiss.

“i know what ya want.” and exactly that is the moment your orgasm ripples through you. a dragged out moan leaves your mouth and your fingernails bore into the flesh of his arms. “j’st like that,” simon coos, carefully removing his hand from your cunt.

you gasp for air as you come down from your high, still not 100% sure if this was real; because it didn’t feel like it. you release simon’s arms from your grip, swallowing when you saw the marks you left.

in the meanwhile simon fully undressed himself, his painfully hard cock finally getting set free. he looked at you and a smirk tugged at his lips when he noticed you staring. he tugged at his cock before he crawled back onto the bed to hover about you.

you look up at him, unsure of what to do. it’s been probably years since you’ve last had sex. it wasn’t that much of a regular thing in your life.

“ya ready?” he asks you after he connects your lips in a gentle kiss. you nod and he carefully starts to open your legs further. “i’ll be gentle, yea?”

simon’s hands caress your thighs before he aligns his cock with your entrance and trains his eyes on you as he starts to push himself inside.

your mouth falls open and your hands find their way back to grip onto his arms. a tear slips past your eye and a loud moan drags past your lips. “simon—oh my god!”

he grunts, doing his best to hold himself back from restlessly pounding into you. he didn’t want to hurt you. “no god ‘ere love. only me.” he bends down to kiss you and one of his hands starts to stimulate your clit again.

when he fully bottomed out it took all of his self control to not come immediately. he’s dreamed of this for months, years even and not it was finally happening.

“takin’ me s’good,” simon whispers in your ear, slowly pulling his hips back, making you whine before he pushes them forward again, pulling another moan out of you. “this pussy was made for me, huh.” a cocky grin was on his face.

you nod and babble, too overwhelmed by that pleasure that was so unknown to you. “wanna be good for you,” you cry, clutching his arm with your hands. “please simon.”

he starts to trail kisses down your throat while he keeps his thrusts in a steady rhythm. he felt his orgasm building but he wouldn’t come before you didn’t. this wasn’t about him and his pleasure, this was about you.

you moan, “oh—oh—“ when you feel the knot in your stomach tightening. “i’m gonna come simon,” your voice trembles.

“i know,” he grits out as he fastens his thrusts and keeps stimulation your clit. the way you were clenching around him had him seeing stars. you were so close.

and then he pushes you over the cliff, your orgasm rippling through you with a force you didn’t know as possible. your vision fades to black and your mouth falls open as simon fucks you through your orgasm.

he’s trying his best to keep his composure when you clench around him, almost milking him but he pushes through, managing a couple sloppy thrusts before he comes with a deep moan, fully burying himself inside you.

his eyes are closed as he tries to take a deep breath, a faint ‘i love you’ leaving his lips.

(i’m sorry the end is like that. i’m terrible at endings🧍🏼. i didn’t know how to properly cut this😭)

[jasntodds]

Penance [8]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 5,400

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tiny bit of angst, fluff, mentions of death

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I honestly just needed a little bit of a break from writing lol Anyway this has one of my favorite scenes in it and it's because it's cute and not angst for once lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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You wake up with your alarm a few hours later. You're still drowsy in your eyes but your mind is wide awake, knowing you're going to see Jason today. And unlike the last week, this makes you smile from ear to ear with excitement and nerves. You aren’t under any obligation this time. Tim is gone and it’s just you and him. You aren’t training or patrolling. You're going shopping and working on his home. It feels normal.

You change three times before deciding on jeans and a Wayne Enterprises shirt, mostly because you expect to get dirty and you don’t want to ruin one of the shirts you actually like. Though, you hate admitting the WE shirt fits nicely and it’s a good color.

When you walk into the kitchen, Molly is seated with a sandwich on a plate and her laptop open. Molly's eyes glance up to you before she goes back to her work. You start kicking on a pair of Converse before you break the silence.

“I had sex with Jason last night.” You blurt out.

Molly shoots her attention back to you and blinks a few times. “You what?” Molly asks, unsure if she heard that right.

“I had sex with Jason.” You repeat as you get your second shoe on.

“Of course, you did.” Molly lets out a sigh and that's when she sees the hint of bruises that are very clearly hickies sticking out from the collar of your shirt.

You finally look back to Molly, brows tugging together. “Fuck you?” You question.

Molly leans back to stretch, as if preparing herself for the story you'll have. “You two can’t control yourselves.” Molly rolls her shoulders.

“Well—“ You suck in a breath. “Yeah…” You let out a sigh with a small grin. “Just thought I’d tell you.”

Molly sucks in a deep breath, pushing her laptop an inch away from her. “How did you manage to sleep with him?”

“Well, okay so Dick had this whole thing where we had to spar with blindfolds on, right?” You start and Molly gives you a nod. “Well, we took it up a notch at the Manor and we’d shut all the lights off and we’d have to spar and disarm each other but we’d also have to find each other using anything but our sight. Good practice. Well, we did that last night and then…”

“Something about you two hunting each other in the dark does it for the two of you?” Molly quips.

You offer Molly a quick glare before you cross your arms. “At this point, would it shock you?”

“No.” Molly sighs honestly.

“Exactly but no.” You scoff. “We were joking like we always do, yelling at each other through the dark, ya know? And then he fucking hid before a window so I had to step into the light and we sparred there and then…I don’t know.” You shrug before you lean on the wall beside you, shifting your weight to your left foot. “I just…kissed him.”

Molly nods her head. “And then?”

“He kissed me back and one thing led to another and we said it was a one-time thing.” You gesture a hand out haphazardly.

Molly lets out a groan and while she adores the both of you, she has to wonder how two people can be so stubborn in their ways. If you want to fall into something again, that's fine but Molly can't wrap her head around the logic the two of you are using to justify your silence around each other. The two of you like to overcomplicate your own feelings when it doesn't have to be that complicated.

"What?" You question, pulling out your phone to see a text from Jason saying he's on his way.

“Do you honestly believe this is a one-time thing?” Molly asks with a bite in her voice.

“No.” You say quietly.

“Do you want it to be a one-time thing?”

“No.”

“So fucking tell him.” Molly urges.

“I-I can’t.” You shake your head. "Not yet." Your eyes go to the floor before they find their way back to Molly. “What if he leaves again?” You ask quietly, your voice falling small.

Molly's shoulders slouch forward. "Just because of what you guys do, doesn't mean it has to end that way." Molly states softly and she does believe it. She knows what you do is dangerous and maybe one of you won't come home, but that isn't guaranteed.

"That's not what I mean." You shake your head quickly. "He died, yeah and that's a whole..." You suck in a breath. "That's a thing but then...he came back and he still left me standing on a rooftop. I begged him to not leave and then he did." You let out a sigh as you look back to the floor. "So, maybe things get too hard and he leaves again. On purpose. At least...at least if he dies it's because it's part of the job, greater good."

"He left to protect you." Molly states. "I know there's more to it because he never had to work with Crane, he could have talked to Dick, there were things he could've done. But, bottom line is that he left to protect you, not because he wanted to."

"Right, yeah, but Jason Todd tends to believe he's the worst person to walk the face of the earth." You push off of the wall with a breath. "I don't know. It's like...I want to tell him and then I think of another reason not to." You shake your head, checking the time on your phone before you pocket it again. "Want it to be right, don't want to scare him off, I don't wanna leave him." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want it to be right next time."

Molly nods with understanding and if she were being honest, she can't imagine your point of view of standing on the roof with Jason. You don't ask people to stay. You don't stay too often. For you to beg him and him to leave anyway, Molly can only imagine the devastation that ripped through you.

"So...what do you want to do then?" Molly asks.

You let out a soft laugh. "Honestly, I don't know but as long I'm with him...I think I'm okay with whatever it is. I'll get over it, ya know?" You nod. "Uh...Jason is getting me an appointment with Leslie so...maybe I'll just ask her and maybe...maybe I'll take some advice."

"Even if she tells you to talk to him?"

You let out a groan as a smile pulls at your lips. "It would be the right thing to do."

"It would." Molly agrees with a laugh. "For what it's worth, you've looked happier the last week than you have in over a month."

You feel heat rush over your cheeks. "He still makes me very happy." You scrunch your nose. "So, anyway, I will have a conversation with him soon but for now, just know last night was fun and I'm going to Home Depot to help him fix up his place."

Molly lets out a laugh. “Oh? You moving out?”

“Shut up, no.” You laugh softly. “Just helping him.”

Molly rolls her eyes with a smile, mentally making a note of the date because she's willing to bet you'll be back living with Jason within a few months of his place being finished.

"If you say so." Molly quips as she pulls the laptop back to her.

"Are you kicking me out?" You offer a fake pout as you make your way to the door.

"No." Molly chortles. "I just know you two."

"That's fair." You laugh back. "Okay, I'll be back later." You wave quickly before heading out of the door, locking it behind you.

By the time you exit the apartment building, Jason is already there. A black sports car is parked against the curb while Jason is leaning against the passenger door, looking at his phone with one hand in his pocket. A smile tugs at your lips seeing him. Jason catches a glimpse of the doors opening and you walking out from the tops of his eyes.

“Wayne Enterprises?” Jason chortles as he looks your way.

“Fuck off.” You threaten as you close the distance between you. “Figured we’d get dirty and I don’t wanna ruin a shirt I like...unlike you.” You look him up and down. He's wearing a black leather jacket, one you always said looked good on him and a pair of black jeans.

"I'm gonna change when we get back." Jason quips back.

You point to the car. “Bruce?”

“Yeah.” Jason looks to the car and back to you. “He’s back in town today, said I could borrow it long as I didn’t do anything stupid.” Jason lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “You could talk to him.” He suggests, trying to play it casual.

Jason knows Bruce is not exactly your favorite person but he would like for you to talk to him. Jason forgives him for everything and a lot of your anger towards Bruce is because of Jason. Bruce means a lot to him and you mean a lot to him. He just wants you to get along and Bruce said he's willing to talk with you and try to smooth things over. Jason won't say it, but it would mean a lot if the two of you could get along and get to a good place.

You quirk a brow at him, almost a look of disgusted confusion plastering itself across your features. “What?”

“Could talk to him.” Jason repeats himself.

“No.” You scoff. “Why would I do that?”

The way you see it, you have nothing to say to him. You warned him about Jason and the Joker and then Jason died because Bruce wouldn't listen. All Bruce had to do was listen to Jason, listen to you, or anyone and he didn't. Then after his death, he was still referring to it like it was some sort of war and Jason was a soldier, a sacrifice for a good cause as if he wasn't his son. Your fists ball at your sides the argument replaying in your head.

Jason shakes his head. “I did.”

“Because he’s your dad.” You state. “He’s always been…” You trail off trying to find the right way to phrase it because you want to say something about Bruce weaponizing two of the most important people to you and something about him getting Jason killed which spiraled into the effect of Dick and Tim getting killed. You want to tell him details of your arguments after he died but that would be cruel. “Not that to me.”

“He’s trying.” Jason states and he knows that if he wants to be with you, which he does, it would be a whole lot easier if you and Bruce got along. “Not fucking perfect or some shit, but…trying.”

“I’m glad he’s trying, Jay. Honest.” You nod as your eyes go soft. “I just don’t have anything to say to him.” You pull in a breath.

Jason knows getting you to sit down and have a conversation with Bruce is not going to be easy. You can hold a grudge better than anyone Jason has ever met. But, he knows it's all still a little fresh for you. He hopes after a little more time you can talk to him. Jason thinks you'd actually get along if you would give him a real chance but he also knows that's a lot easier said than done. If roles were reversed, Jason wouldn't be so forgiving either.

“You’re still using his credit card.” Jason chuckles.

“I’m mad at him, not stupid.” You let out a laugh.

“Just get in the car.” Jason states as he opens the passenger side for you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You smile softly at him. “Thank you.”

The two of you head to Home Depot, Jason having made a list for supplies on his phone. You mostly get things like tools and drywall. You grab some outlet covers and plywood for some of the floors. Most of the house really isn’t in too bad of shape. It mostly needs a good clean and some paint. It’s only a handful of spots that need actual work done but it is nice you get to do this together.

After you get back, you get right to work working on the spare room. The drywall in that room needs to be replaced so you work on that before Jason moves onto some of the plumbing in one of the bathrooms, you taking it upon yourself to get to cleaning some of the upstairs. Jason plays a mixed playlist through the speakers, one he still has on his Spotify from when you were dating. It contains all of both of your favorite songs.

A few hours into it, Jason places an order for some food and once it’s delivered, the two of you take your seats in the main hallway downstairs, sitting on the floor. Jason sits with one leg tugged to his chest, eating his burger while you're seated cross-legged, eating the same as his just without the onion.

“Are you gonna paint?” You ask, looking around at the white walls.

“Walls are grimy as fuck.” Jason says with a mouth full of food. “Probably.”

You give him a grin. “You should paint one wall r—“

“I’m not painting the walls fucking red.” Jason lets out a booming laugh as he tilts his head back.

“But! It’s your color!” You cheer, the smile vibrant and happy. “Come on, it’ll look good! Just one wall.” Your eyes are wide and soft, cheerful and playful. Jason thinks he’s going to melt into the floor. He’d do anything to have you look at him like that all the time.

“Fine.” Jason agrees before stuffing a fry into his mouth. “One wall but I pick the shade.”

“Okay.” You beam, looking down at your food with a warm chest. You look back up to him before eating one of his fries, Jason blinking at you. That’s why he ordered a large instead of a medium. “And you should paint one wall blue.” You chime with a cheeky grin. “My blue, not Dick’s.” You laugh softly.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That’s a bit far, huh?” Jason questions.

“No! You have a wall and I have a wall! I’m helping so I think that’s only fair.” You bat your eyelashes at him with a toothy smile.

“So you think you get a whole damn wall cause you’re helping me fucking clean?”

“And because I’m your favorite vigilante!” You laugh and Jason thinks you're even cuter than you've ever been.

Happy looks good on you.

“Right.” Jason nods his head, resting his arm over his knee to lean in a bit. “And what makes you think that?”

“Well, it’s not Batman.” You chortle. “It’s not Dick because even if it were, you’d rather have a lobotomy than ever admit it. It’s not Conner because you don’t really know him well. It’s not Rachel. It’s not Superman just because he’s friends Bruce so on principle alone, it can’t be him.” You explain as Jason laughs.

Sam thinks he's laughed more in the last few minutes than he ever has. She'd do anything to keep him this happy.

Happy looks good on him.

“How many times have you thought about this?” Jason questions as he furrows his brows, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.

“Clearly, too many.” You suck in a breath. “I don’t really have a good reason for any other vigilante that I don’t know but I know it’s not them. So, really, I think my only competition is Kory and Gar because Kory is a badass and I mean…Gar.” You explain as you furrow your brows before your eyes soften at him with a gentle smile. “I still think I’m your favorite.”

Of course you are.

“All good points but you haven’t explained how you’re my favorite.” Jason teases you.

“Well, I let you sleep with me.” You fire back as Jason bursts into more laughter.

“That doesn’t fucking count.” Jason argues.

“Fine fine fine.” You shake your head. “Um…you trained me which you hold a lot of pride in.” You state. “You like my suit, clearly cause we both have hoods now. Half my damn name is literally yours.” You widen your eyes at him as you tilt your head side to side. “Because I’m your favorite.” You state with pride.

Jason shakes his head, his heart turning into a puddle of mush. He’s so in love with you. “Fine, you’ll be my favorite when I’m yours.” Jason teases back.

“Who says you’re not my favorite?” You argue.

“Krypto.” Jason answers without skipping a beat.

You tilt your head, laughing and it takes everything in him not to kiss you. “Yeah…he’s such a good boy!” You shake your head, taking another one of Jason’s fries. “You’re my second favorite though.”

Jason shakes his head. “Why?” He asks.

“Trying to get me to fill your ego?”

Jason gives you a cheeky smirk. “Can’t help myself.”

“Because you’re Jason Todd.” You answer simply. “That’s why you’re my favorite, not counting Krypto.”

Jason’s brows furrow. “What’s that mean?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Too many reasons list. You’re my favorite because you’re you.” You know it sounds a little like a copout but it's true. Jason Todd is your favorite person no matter the suit or lack thereof. It's always that simple to you.

Jason looks down, pushing the container of fries so it’s more in the middle of you. “One wall.” Jason looks back to you with a soft smile.

“Really?” You ask with hope in your eyes and Jason thinks he’d let you paint the whole place any color you wanted at this point.

“Gonna be here all the damn time anyway, right?” Jason asks.

It hasn't felt so lonely with you being around and it's not just because he's not alone physically. He never feels lonely when you're around. He feels at ease with you around and happy. He hopes you keep coming around even after you finish the house.

“Probably.” You nod quickly. “Yeah.” Your cheeks burn knowing it's true. Even if you won't intend to be around all the time, it is bound to happen if the pattern continues. Though, by the grin on his lips and the airiness of his voice, you don't think he minds. It always feels more like home when you're with him.

“Guess I could spare a few walls for you.” Jason offers a soft smile.

“Awfully nice of you, Jay.”

“I can be nice.” Jason finishes off his burger.

"You have your moments." You smile softly at him before scrunching your nose and taking another fry.

Over the next few days, the two of you continue cleaning and getting the home ready. It feels normal and happy. For once, it feels like the two of you don't have to have a care in the world as you work. And you don't even wonder what it would be like if you were actually together because you both know it would be just like this.

You're picking out an overall shade of the house and helping him pick out furniture, something he thinks would have happened anyway. Jason stocks shared food and drinks for the two of you and he says it's just because you've been helping him and you'll be by a lot anyway. It's not a big deal. You share the space without ever slapping a label on it and it feels comfortable.

Jason has also had his appointment with Leslie, asking her about you. She called you after Jason's appointment and now you have an appointment for the following week. You aren't too thrilled about it but if Jason is saying it's helping, the least you can do is try. Asking Jason to try all those months ago but not doing it yourself, makes you a hypocrite. You owe it to yourself.

The last few days have been nice and pretty easy but you're getting ready to leave your apartment now and Molly is standing in your doorway, watching you.

"Where are you going? You just got back and you don't patrol this early." Molly states as she watches you shove your backpack onto your back.

"Just out." You shrug your shoulders. "I'll be back in time for patrol." You go to walk past her but Molly blocks you.

"Where do you go when do this? Jason found you in an alley—"

"Is it a crime to go on a walk?" You question.

"It is for you, yes." Molly answers back. "You also always do it whenever something is wrong. Did something happen with Jason today?" Molly asks as you watch her face fall.

You put your hands on Molly's shoulders. "Nothing happened with Jason. We did what we usually do, worked on the house. I just have something I have to do." You close your eyes, knowing Molly isn't going to get off your back. "It just has to do with the case we're working. It's nothing, okay? I'm almost done anyway." You gesture for Molly to move.

Molly would never approve of what you're doing. Molly would tell Jason and then you'd tell Gar and Dick, next thing you would know you'd be sat in an intervention about your own self-destruction. They'd lecture about how unsafe it is and you're just punishing yourself, there are other ways. You're nearly rolling your eyes at the very thought of hearing the lecture. Even when you would defend yourself, they wouldn't believe it were just for the case. It just seems like a giant headache and a waste of time so you keep your mouth shut to Molly.

Molly moves slowly out of the way. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing." You groan, not turning around to face her. "I'll be back after patrol." You state before you slide your shoes on.

"Are you in trouble?" Molly's voice grows small and quiet.

You look back to her. "No." You answer simply. "It's fine." You let out a sigh. "I'll be back." You open the door and leave without another word.

Molly watches the door close and she knows she shouldn't, but she reaches for her phone anyway. You've been better about not keeping secrets ever since you looped Molly into the vigilante world. You keeping this secret while offering next to nothing, has rubbed Molly the wrong way. Maybe if you kept your phone on, Molly wouldn't worry as much but considering you have a real fear of being kidnapped, Molly knows it's taking a lot for you to shut your phone off. It means you're up to something no one will approve of. So, she calls Jason.

"Wanna do me another favor?" Molly asks as soon as Jason picks up.

"I'm not hunting her down again, Molly." Jason says, knowing immediately what Molly was gonna ask.

Molly lets out a groan as she plops down at the kitchen table. "Look, I think she got herself into some trouble."

Jason closes his eyes but he knows you're someone who wants to handle your own trouble on your own and will, inevitably get in over your head. "What do you mean?" Jason caves.

Molly pauses for a few seconds trying to figure out how she can explain this to Jason without sounding paranoid. She's hoping his care for you will work in her favor.

"She goes out randomly, won't tell me, shuts off her phone, and today she did say it had to do with the case she's working." Molly explains.

The only weird thing in that entire sentence is your phone but Jason doesn't think that's enough of a reason. He's been doing this whole thing longer than both of you and sometimes, getting intel means it's gotta be kept quiet to everyone. If it has to do with the case, Jason's betting that's what you're doing, maybe don't want Molly involved to protect her. From where Jason is sitting, it actually seems pretty normal.

Jason lets out a sigh. "That's not a fucking reason to hunt her down." Jason states. "I'm not going. We're in a good place and I don't wanna fuck that up. I can't go stalking her around Gotham cause you're fucking worried she might be doing something weird."

"I know." Molly sighs in defeat. "I worry about you guys." Molly confesses. "Last time, please?" Molly pleads with him.

Jason gets up from his spot at the computers with a sigh. "You gotta get used to it, Molly." Jason states, keeping his voice level. "Worrying and shit, that's just part of it."

"I know." Molly nods her head. "Can't you just see where she's going?" Molly looks to the floor and lets out a breath. "I won't ask again unless I have a better reason."

Jason looks at his gear before he looks to the ceiling, knowing you're going to rip him a new one. "When did she leave?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"If she goes all Acid Fingers on me, I'm sending her to you." Jason states.

Molly smiles on the other end. "I can handle her."

Jason gets ready in his Red Hood gear, feeling a little guilty for agreeing to do this again. But, this will be the last time and he figures he'll just let you know about Molly's worrying so you can loop her in. Jason knows you're probably fine. You're smart and resourceful, if you get into trouble with whatever you're doing, you probably have some sort of backup plan for help. He's just doing this for Molly even if her worrying is rubbing off on him as he exits his building.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to find you. It's like he told Molly, you're a creature of habit. He found you near the alley you were in last time. Jason takes a roof of a nearby building and maybe this is wrong. You're perfectly fine, clearly, you're having a conversation with some man in a suit but the conversation doesn't look to be going sideways. You're fine but Jason decides to sit up on the roof and wait it out anyway. He doesn't listen in, he just watches a bit. At the end of the day, you're still meeting up with a random guy in an alley. You're paranoid on a good day, so that's weird. That's what Jason tells himself to justify his spying on you.

Once the man walks out of the alley, Jason uses his grappling hook to make his way down to you. The movement gathers attention and you immediately grab a knife from your pocket as you look up. Instead of something horrible, you see Jason. Your grip loosens as you roll your eyes. The annoyance isn't directed at him because Jason doesn't stalk you unless he's given a reason. The reason seems always to be Molly.

"What're you doing?" You question once Jason is standing with his feet on the ground.

"Who was that?" Jason asks, nodding his head towards the end of the alley where the man walked off.

"Jealous?" You quip as you cross your arms over your chest.

You can't see it, but Jason deadpans behind the helmet. "Of that fuck?" Jason scoffs. "Fuck no." Jason scans you over and you look fine, other than mildly annoyed.

Despite the annoyance, there is a part of you that does appreciate him checking in on you. You know Molly sent him and even if Jason was certain you were fine, he did it to put Molly at ease which is nice. If you were in Jason's shoes, you'd be doing the same thing so you can't get too mad at him. If you were being honest, you can't get too mad at Molly either.

"So?" You raise your brows and gesture a hand out to him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

"Don't shoot the messenger." Jason puts his hands up in defense.

You roll your eyes. "Molly, really?"

"She's worried about you." Jason states, the voice modulator hiding a tint of worry in his own voice.

"I'm fine, Red." You gesture a hand over yourself. "See?"

You make a mental note to have a sit down with Molly because you can't be asking Jason to track you down whenever she's worried. What Molly doesn't understand is that you and Jason are both prepared for when something goes wrong. Molly knows you have your failsafes but that doesn't seem to put her mind at ease very much. The more you're thinking about it, knowing Jason has one doesn't put you at much ease either.

Jason nods his head but he's not willing to let it rest. "Can't fucking blame her when you're the one being ominous as fuck about what you're doing."

"I'm just getting some intel." You state casually. "It's really not a big deal."

If it weren't a big deal, you would tell Molly. Jason knows there has to be more to it. You're being too secretive about it but it's not exactly his place to badger you about it. It's your case, not his even if you agreed you'd kind of work your cases together. It's still yours and you were trained the same way he was. He's just worried about you and now he knows how you felt when he was Robin. It's not fun worrying about the person you care about all the time.

"You sure that's all it is?" Jason questions and receives a nod from you. "Why not tell Molly?"

You shrug softly and you really don't have an answer outside of the truth. "Um...it's not...the same case I've been working." You confess and Jason's stomach starts to twist.

"What the hell did you get into?" Jason nearly demands as worry starts to tug at his bones.

You close some of the distance between you, lightly grabbing his forearms in your hands. "Nothing, I swear. It's not anything bad or dangerous." You urge as your eyes meet the whites of his helmet. "I know that sounds like bullshit but I promise, it's not."

Jason's eyes are scanning over your features and you're not lying to him but somehow that doesn't reassure him. You not being in danger should rid the anxiety wanting to melt from his flesh but all he does is grow more confused.

"Not very reassuring." Jason quips.

You chew the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands. "Can you trust me, please?" You plead with him and you can't see it, but his features soften under the helmet.

"You get into any shit, you'll tell me, right?" Jason asks.

You nod and offer him a soft smile. "Yeah, of course but it's not that kind of case. I'll tell you when I can, promise." You nod again and your smile seems to turn sad.

"Alright." Jason sighs.

"I always have my knives and if I'm ever in a bad enough situation, I will burn someone. I got it."

Jason nods and he rests a hand on your hip lightly. "Sorry for stalking you." A chuckle leaves his lips.

"Yeah, you weirdo." You snicker. "It's okay. I'd do the same." You beam up at him, getting you a laugh from Jason.

"You would." Jason quips back. Jason swallows thickly. "Hey, are you sure you couldn't talk to the Bat?"

You shake your head as if doing a double take. "Why do you want me to talk to him so bad?"

Jason shrugs trying his best to play it off as something that doesn't matter too much. "You two not getting along is bound to cause a problem, rather not deal with it."

"I don't have anything to say to him, Red." You urge once more and the very thought of talking to Bruce makes you want to scream.

"Is it because of what happened?" Jason asks.

"No." You answer honestly. "There's more. I don't wanna get into it." You pull in a breath and you wish you could see his face. "I'm sorry but...I can't."

You can't see it, but Jason's face falls into something between disappointment and defeat.

"It's alright, worth a shot." Jason clears his throat and you feel the guilt bubbling into your throat. "Meet up for food later?" Jason changes subject.

"Always." You nod quickly, offering a small smile that never reaches your eyes. "Two?"

"Meet you at Excellent Gotham? I'll pick something up."

"Sounds good." You beam up at him. "Be careful, Red." Your eyes narrow slightly before you scrunch your nose. "I'm gonna go home to get read and I'll be out."

"Want an escort?" Jason offers with a subtle squeeze to your hip.

"I'm okay, but thank you." You smile softly at him before you pull away. "Okay, I'll meet you at two. I'll text you." You grin back at him before you spin on your heels and head down the end of the alley.

prev. chapter

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[lyricalt]

happy wip wednesday! got tagged last week but totally forgot, lol. :')

Here's a preview for foresight that I've been noodling at since/during hindsight, which is probably necessary to read first, the time travel fic that is constantly making me pull my hair out. I'm hesitant to call it a strict sequel. More like a follow up? We'll see!

=======

Sniper is in the middle of relocating to a different post when Spy passes him by with a nod. From the corner of his eye, Sniper sees Spy halt midstep, turn back to look at him, and dart over. 

The next thing Sniper knows, his arm is being grabbed. Abrupt, sure, but not as alarming as Spy cupping his hand under Sniper’s jaw.

“Did you know your scar is gone?” Spy asks, surprised. He turns Sniper’s face, his grip gentle but firm.

Sniper slaps him.

Spy lets go of his face. It’s hard to say who looks more shocked. Spy puts a hand to his own cheek, like he’s offended that Sniper even hit him.

“What scar?” Sniper takes a step back, staring like Spy’s gone completely insane. What kind of guy just grabs other people’s faces without asking? Or maybe he’d been doing an enemy spy check but what a bloody weird way to go about it. Sniper would’ve rather had Spy stab him instead.

“The one-” and Spy stops speaking. He looks at his watch and proceeds to stare down at it for a long time. His brow furrows. “... Never mind.”

Sniper waits for what he feels is an appropriate amount—five even seconds of polite silence—and rolls his eyes. “I don’t got time for this,” Sniper says, impatiently. The sounds of gunfire and explosions are getting close to the base. Not a good sign. The team is losing, faster now that both he and Spy are wasting precious minutes gaping at each other. “You need anything from me or not?” 

Spy mutters to himself, brushing past Sniper. “Time.”

Cryptic. Figures.

“Oi,” Sniper calls out before Spy has the chance to disappear around the corner. “We still meetin’ up after hours? Still a go with the job?”

Spy has a cigarette in his mouth. It’s already down to the filter. Sniper didn’t think anyone could smoke that fast, but apparently Spy’s full of mysterious skills other than grabbing people by their faces.

“The job? Oh, yes. Probably,” Spy says.

“Probably?”

“Most likely.”

“We leave tomorrow,” Sniper reminds, frowning. Just yesterday Spy had been dropping snide comments about prep work, pre-prep meeting, prep checklist, prep prep prep. Their meetup later today had been his idea. “Now would be a good time to call it off if you think there’s gonna be a problem.”

Spy gives him a blank stare. It sure does imply there might be a problem. Maybe even more than one problem. There’s a bullshit meter that Sniper has developed over the years. Spy is usually a little better at going under the radar, but now it’s abundantly clear that Spy is unsure of what Sniper is even talking about.

“You hit your head or something?” Sniper raises an eyebrow. “Need a trip back to respawn? 

Spy gives a short, disparaging laugh. “If you don’t mind.”

Sniper stops. He’d meant it sarcastically, but Spy looks like he actually wants to take him up on the offer. “Come again?”

“If you have the bullet to spare.” Spy adds, “The kukri will work, if not.”

Sniper holds up a hand, stopping Spy from coming any closer, and fumbles for his rifle. He’d rather not waste the bullet on his own teammate but neither does he want Spy any nearer. There’s something off about him, and not in a might-be-the-enemy-spy kind of way. Besides, the kukri is messy and painful work. He might not particularly find Spy the easiest bloke to get along with, but there’s no need to give him a slow death. A bullet will be quicker. 

Sniper goes through the practiced motions of loading up while his mind whirls. This is all just bizarre. 

Spy waits, not even flinching when Sniper aims the rifle. Through the scope, Sniper can see the worried pinch to Spy’s brow, and the way Spy stares back at him is… strange. Expectant and oddly calm. Not the type of look someone gives when waiting to be shot through the head.

“You really want me to do this?” Sniper asks, just to be sure. 

“Please,” Spy says, and he’s never sounded so polite, up until the moment he points to the middle of his own forehead when Sniper hesitates for a second too long. “Right here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Alright, no need to be an arse,” Sniper mutters.

That gets him another laugh. Sniper’s finger almost twitches a hair too soon from the sound. 

“Oh,” Spy says suddenly, and Sniper lets off on the trigger for a second time. “Yes. We’ll meet up after work. The Fugazzi job is still a go, but there will be some minor changes.” 

“How minor?” Sniper asks suspiciously.

“Find out tonight,” Spy says with the kind of smirk that feels like it specifically has the purpose of making Sniper annoyed enough to finally pull the trigger.

He sends Spy back to respawn in a bloody spray.

+++

“You notice anything funny ‘bout Spy?” Engineer asks, not too long after.

Sniper looks up from his rifle. They’re hanging by the dispenser. He hasn’t seen Spy since that strange run-in at the hallway. 

“He’s always been an odd fellow,” Sniper says, noncommittally. “But yeah. Maybe he’s called it for the day. It’s Friday, after all.” 

Engineer lets out a doubtful noise. “Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on the teleporter usage. Thirty minutes ago he spent at least ten minutes hurling himself back and forth through it.”

If Spy had been suffering from a concussion or head injury, it looks like the trip back to respawn didn’t help anything. Likely made it worse from the sound of it. Sniper grunts. Great. A useless teammate for the rest of the day.

They lapse into silence. Under normal circumstances, it would suit Sniper just fine, but now he’s getting the mild anxiety of having a potentially unreliable and unstable partner for an off-grounds mission. “He still at it?”

“Hrm… no,” Engineer says, frowning. He fiddles around with a secondary PDA, a cumbersome boxy thing with a bunch of scores and statistics flashing on the screen. He holds it over. “But take a look at this.” 

Sniper doesn’t much like taking his eyes off from the scope but the BLUs have been strangely quiet for the past couple of minutes. He takes a look at the PDA.

Spy’s kill count is higher than usual. It’s also steadily ticking up, past nine bodies. He’s killing a couple of BLUs twice over. Sniper’s brow goes up. That might explain why the BLUs haven’t been around their neck of the woods. They haven’t had the chance.

“Is he…” Sniper says, blinking. He flips the PDA over, thinking the numbers might right themselves to a more believable amount. “Is that correct?”

“Don’t know.” Engineer scratches under his helmet. He takes the PDA back. 

A minute later, they hear the Announcer declare that RED has taken the Intelligence. It’s one thing to have a faulty scoreboard. Quite another to have the Announcer back it up.

“Hoo-wee.” Engineer whistles, low. “Spy must’ve eaten his wheaties this morning.”

“We’re meeting up after work to do some spot checks on our duo job,” Sniper says, finally lowering his rifle in disbelief. “Guess I can ask.”

“If he keeps this up, I’d say you two are golden for the mission.”

Sniper shrugs, very much doubting the sentiment. “We’ll see.”

+++

Things are so far from golden, they might as well be smoke-gray ashes with how Sniper’s mind nearly implodes when Spy tells him the minor changes.

“Why on earth do we need a bloody teleporter?” he blurts out, even before Spy finishes explaining. “The mission ain’t complicated. Hell, I’ll go and do it myself.”

“No. I need one,” Spy says, cigarette smoke wafting out of his mouth. He smells like a minimum of three tire fires. The entire workshop is covered in a haze. 

Sniper is pretty sure Spy has been chain smoking all day, and while he doesn’t give a damn about Spy’s daily cigarette intake, the slight change in behavior is concerning. Sniper had pegged Spy as an efficient and collected type of fellow, maybe a bit snobby, but it’s as if a dial had been slightly tweaked in him—like Spy’s habits have turned up by a few notches. It makes him look completely neurotic, which doesn’t seem in line with what Sniper had gathered from the few months of working with the guy.

“Listen,” Sniper begins to say, and would’ve resorted to calling Spy nuts and several other rude things, including unprofessional, if only Spy hadn’t completely demolished the BLU team just hours before. He snaps his mouth shut. Spy’s performance scores are off the charts. Sniper has seen the reports. They all show that Spy had infiltrated the BLU base and made off with their intelligence four times. All by himself. 

Calling Spy nutty might be a compliment.

Sniper rubs his temples. While Spy has always been competent on the field, today he’d been a monster. Even when, in the last two hours of the shift, he’d fucked right off.  Disappeared for two hours until it was time to punch out. No one had the stones to bring up his disappearance, and by then RED had such an immense lead the BLUs were more or less demoralized enough that the rest of the team managed fine without him.

At the risk of pissing off their newest MVP, Sniper throws up his hands. “Why?”

“I have a secondary objective,” Spy replies, continuing to smoke like nothing’s happened. Like he hadn’t just blown his previous records and kill count out the water. He brushes some ash off from his jacket.

Sniper tracks the whisp of ash. It’s hard to say if it’d been from the cigarettes or battle. Despite all appearances, Spy is more rumpled than usual. His tie is loose. The cuffs of his sleeves are charred. His shoes have dirt and old blood underneath, meaning he hadn’t respawned at all or found time to change into cleaner clothes. Thus far, Sniper has only seen Spy in nothing less than impeccably pressed clothes during their off hours.

He frowns. Spy is eerily frazzled. He looks like a man preparing himself for one hell of a bender while already in one.

Sniper attempts to reel in his irritation. A secondary objective, and telling him this late in the game? He had thought Miss Pauling more courteous than that. “Which is?”

“A secret,” Spy says, throwing him a winsome smile that Sniper looks twice it. 

Spy has never smiled at him like that. Doesn’t seem the type to give a smile that looks anything other than smug or self-satisfied. 

Sniper has a sudden concerning thought about his contract, and a possible untimely termination. 

“Mate,” Sniper says, eyes darting to the nearest window out the workshop, “if RED wants to you to take me out, I’d pay you double to not to do it.”

If someone had asked yesterday about fighting one on one with Spy, he would’ve said his chances of winning—or at least escaping—were decent. Now? After Spy’s casual rampage against the BLUs? Less than he likes.

“What? No. Nothing like that,” Spy says, and then he snorts. “Take you out? No. Maybe. Hm.”

Sniper gives him a look. “...You alright?”

“Fine. Perfectly fine. It’s within our budget. You won’t have to take a pay cut.”

Sniper is unnerved that, on top of everything else, Spy seems to have worked out one of his main concerns about the teleporter.

Sniper sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, what with Spy so fixated, but for the sake of professional integrity, he offers up his opinion.

“I don't like this new plan of yours. We had a good one. I don't understand why you have to change everything. Especially with the teleporter,” he says. He wants a cigarette for himself, but it seems like Spy is smoking enough to give him a secondhand hit. “It's not like we can plug it into the outlet and have it work.”

“You were saying the job was too easy,” Spy says, grinning, “I'm making it more challenging.”

“What? I've said no such thing. That'd be unprofessional,” Sniper says, baffled, before adding, “And bad luck.”

Spy frowns, deep in thought. 

“You haven't said it yet,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead. The balaclava slips a bit, revealing strands of dark hair, flecked with gray.

Distracted, Sniper stares then glances up at the ceiling, trying to be polite. “Uh. Your mask.”

Spy quickly pulls it back in place. He shakes his head and finally crushes the cigarette filter into the ashtray. He’s either run clean out or is ending his night. Probably both.

“I’m turning in,” Spy says, shrugging off his jacket. He looks down at the fabric, realizing the dirt for the first time. His eyes narrow the more he inspects himself. “I’ll need to prepare some things before leaving.”

“Yeah, no kiddn’,” Sniper says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. I’m still not sayin’ yes to this new plan, but once we get to the rendezvous point I want the details. Numbers.”

“Of course,” Spy says, a bit too readily for Sniper’s comfort. “Oh, and I will not be leaving with you. We’ll meet at the hotel.”

“How’re you gettin’ there?”

Spy’s returning smile is now neither winsome nor sly. Just tired and fully rueful. “I suggest getting used to this word; secret.”

Sniper rolls his eyes and leaves the workshop without saying good night.

+++

The hotel is the standard fare for a three-star, except for it’s many stories and windows, near perfect if one needed to spy or snipe into a different building. It’s not as glamorous as Sniper feared it would be. The hotel clerk barely gives him a second look as he hauls his rifle-length suitcases up to the elevators. To his credit, one of the suitcases contains a saxophone, just in case. He waves off the bellhops. Also just in case.

Their shared room is on the fifth floor. Sniper’s briefing had said something about the third floor. He assumes Spy might’ve had a hand in changing it up.

His assumption is correct. When he opens the door to the room, Spy is already inside. Sniper blinks, surprised, but drags the rest of his things in before he shuts the door. He shoots a peeved look Spy’s way. He should really get used to spies suddenly appearing in places where they aren’t expected by now.

As if sensing his annoyance, Spy glances up from the desk. He has a stack of papers sitting in front of him, a pen in hand, and is in the middle of reaching for one of two mugs at the table.

“Coffee?” he asks, holding the mug out for Sniper.

“Oh.” Sniper gives the hotel room a quick once-over. Two double beds. Single bathroom. Desk, apparently already claimed. And lastly, a great window with a very important view. He looks back at Spy. “No thanks, mate. I only drink-”

“It's decaffeinated.”

“Crikey,” Sniper says, a little mollified despite himself. The drive into the city had not been bad, just long. “RED’s dossier on me must be extensive.”

The mug tips as Spy shrugs. “Or I've just happen to notice.”

“Since when?” Sniper reaches over, if only to not have the coffee spill. It seems like Spy hadn’t slept a wink. 

Spy’s expression does something complicated—exasperation, mostly—then a flash of surprise when Sniper’s fingers touch his around the mug. “...Not long.”

Sniper grunts. Spy remains silent, which would be a rare blessing, but the mug is making his fingers burn, seeing as Spy has the handle part of it.

“Got it,” Sniper prompts, meaning the coffee, and Spy lets go belatedly. He takes a sip, finds it decent enough, and turns back around to organize his things. “Gonna take a couple of hours to get the lay of the land. You got that teleporter problem of yours sorted yet?”

Spy’s hand flexes into a fist before he reaches into his front pocket. When he brings it out again there’s a pen spinning between his fingers. He sits back down at the desk. “Not yet.”

Sniper holds up three fingers. Three days until the mark shows up then it’s go-time, whether Spy likes it or not. “Don’t know how much time I’m willing to give you.”

“You’ll have to give it,” Spy says and doesn’t offer up any more than that.

Unbelievable. This mission was supposed to be easy money. And, until yesterday, Spy seemed to be alike in thinking the same and hadn’t been too insistent on anything in particular. Certainly not the use of a teleporter. Sniper hadn’t anticipated on Spy being this much of a pain in the arse to work with.

“Listen, I’m not agreeing to this new plan until you give me the paperwork,” Sniper says, sitting on the one empty bed Spy left for him, the one furthest from the window. Thankfully, it suits him fine. “Inventory. Updated timeframes. Split costs.”

Spy looks like he is running a mental list of all the possible things he wants say, none of them polite or agreeable. His lips press into a thin line.

“You have a stick up your ass about this entire thing,” he eventually says, as if that’d been the mildest reply he could give. “The plan remains the same. I will lead the mark to the point, and you will shoot. Not complicated.”

“Me? Stick up my arse? Take a look in the mirror, mate, you-” Sniper halts mid-sentence. 

Spy is in his usual button up shirt, minus the jacket, tie, and gloves. He is sipping coffee from a mug, somehow abandoning his careful appearance for something more relaxed. Meanwhile, Sniper is still in his full uniform, hat included, arguing about contract logistics. 

Spy laughs, not mentioning the how hypocritical Sniper’s remark had been. 

“Go do your reconnaissance,” he says with a sharp smile that says he’s got a winning bet under his belt. He takes a long slurp of coffee. “Take your time. You’ll have your numbers when you come back.”

[the-inkwell-variable]

author ask tag

thank you so much for the tag, @the-golden-comet! ooh this is gonna be fun!

i'm going to focus on my current wip, Why Should I Be Careful? I'm Going To Die Anyway! because it's still very much in the planning stages (despite how much I'm writing for it) and I have Thoughts

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I'll be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead. I suppose, if there is a lesson to take from WSIBC?IGTDA!, it might be that you should always chase your goals and desires, and screw what other people think. Maybe put a little more thought and planning into yours than Aura does hers, though. I mean, she almost dies due to her recklessness. Don't be like Aura.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Well, it's a zombie book - I love zombies, in case you can't tell - so the world is an amalgamation of zombie stuff I love. The zombies are based off of the Train to Busan zombies. This is a self-insert mess, so I'm using the town and people I know in the town as location and characters. Little tropes here and there that I love in movies and books alike. It's just a big chimera of stuff that I grab from stuff I remember and shove into it. It definitely needs polish when it's done, but I'm having a blast so far, so I'm'a keep doing it :3

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Uhhhhhh this is a tough question. Right now, Aura is trying to make it to Roger's Grocery Mart to save her girlfriend, but most of the time, she's just trying to have a good time in the zombie apocalypse and hopefully not die. She does eventually grow into a character that (mostly) thinks things through and takes other people's situations into account, so I suppose the lesson is "the world doesn't revolve around you - be kind and helpful to others"?

As for what I'm trying to achieve... mostly, to be honest, I just want people to pick up my book and have a good time reading it. I want to write a zombie book because it's my passion and because there aren't enough zombie books out there. I guess I'm trying to inspire others? To show them that you can survive an impossible situation if you work hard and think things through?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

The only time I've written a full-length book (sorry, the only two times, forgot about Zero: ALPHA), it had about twenty-odd chapters. Z:A had...uh...thirty? That was a long time ago and I sadly no longer have that draft. This one is going to go until it's done. Hopefully more than thirty though!

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! I have no idea where I'm going to post it. I'm torn between Draft2Digital (originally Smashwords) or Substack. Thing is, I'm really bad at marketing and keywords and all that technical stuff that goes into publicizing, so I'm really hesitant to share it at all. I'm the type of person that gets absolutely morally devastated if my own self-inflicted goals aren't met, and I'm not sure if I can handle that kind of crushing heartbreak with this one lol

So yeah. Might publish, might not. Unsure right now.

When did you start writing?

My dad set up a Windows 95 computer for me in his office, his old one, and taught me the basics of using it. I was five, about to turn six. I immediately sat down and wrote a story about unicorns. I've been writing ever since.

I didn't start writing fanfiction until I was thirteen and had just binge-watched Lord of the Rings for the first time. We don't talk about those works. They were awful.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Write it. Oh it's cringe? Who cares? Write it. Oh, it's a rare pair? Write it. You're worried people will hate it? Fuck the haters. Write it. Writing is about having fun. Writing is about pouring your soul onto the page. Writing is about getting those ideas out of your head so they don't drive you insane. It's about reaching that one person that finds your work and loves it. Even if no one reads it - you still accomplished something. You still wrote it. And no one can take that from you.

I have so many writers in my follow list. Uhh. I have no idea how many are still active, so I'm just going to tag who I know and hope for the best lol

@idyllicocean, @keeping-writing-frosty, @bloodtiesnovel, @asher-writes, @kitswrite, @theink-stainedfolk, @karkkidoeswriting, @lavender-gloom, @orphanheirs, @aquixoticwrites, @alinacapellabooks, @marlowethelibrarian, @flock-from-the-void, @dyrewrites, @storycraftcafe, @writer-imagination, @toragay-writing, @inseasofgreen, @stephtuckerauthor, @thatndginger, @finickyfelix, @eternalwritingstudent, @drchenquill, @paeliae-occasionally, @the-golden-comet, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @watermeezer, @goldfinchwrites, @winterandwords, @badscientist, @clairelsonao3, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @leahpardo-pa-potato, @mjparkerwriting, @rowanwriting, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @emelkae, @rita-rae-siller, @rebelxwriter, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @stesierra, @francineiswriting, @sunset-a-story, @chauceryfairytales, @hollyannewrites, @jaydenswaywrites, @captain-kraken, @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @romy-thewriter, @pure-solomon, @writingmaidenwarrior, @koiwrites

go, go follow them. they're all so good and make my timeline glow.

[dearmyloveleys]

i find ao interesting that you said you were not sure about suho having feelings for sieun. i always thought it was a case of suho felt first/quietly and sieun felt harder

Heyo! Wow I nearly forgot I said that🧎‍♀️‍➡️Thanks for your ask. My reason is: WHC1 directing made sure nobody really knew what Sieun and Suho were thinking, especially because both of them are people who don’t open up/make their feelings known beyond rudimentary conversation. Both are adept at hiding their emotions unless really pushed to their limits (aka during fights). This is most evident at their most intense conflict at Sieun’s door. They want to protect each other but are unwilling to talk.

The thing is if you think that Sieun is resistant to revealing himself, I would argue that Suho is even better than him at covering his true feelings. Sieun is actually a more open book due to his eyes. (Jihoon is such a great casting that I cannot get over.) It’s much easier to tell when he harbours positive feelings for another person because his eyes go round, shiny and sparkly, which he does often for Suho.

Suho on the other hand, he’s a frickin brick wall. He keeps his actions and words short&sweet, so much that if nobody squints, we cannot tell if he’s actually flirting or just being casual. Even if he does say things, his words are almost always in a teasing manner (derogatory or not) to anybody. Suho definitely cares for/likes Sieun, but I really can’t read him and his true feelings for the life of me, the same way I can definitely tell Sieun sees Suho with a deep affection. I don’t know if Suho’s feelings are platonic or romantic. In everyday terms, I’m getting… mixed signals? 🙃

There are times that I’m slightly sure Suho approached Sieun with non-platonic intentions. These are things that I have to extrapolate and be delulu about though: Suho actively seeks Sieun out + likes to have physical contact.

Him stuffing Sieun’s mouth with the ssam wrap (and nearly touching his mouth), going up to Sieun at the bus even though he could have chosen to drive past (and the fact that saw Sieun in the bus?? How aware of him do you need to be for this to happen 😭), the training session where he holds Sieun’s chin and basically indirectly babies him (squishing his cheeks 3x, like bro). And of course — I truly do feel this is the most non-platonic — when he picked Sieun up after cram school, put on the helmet for him and called him cute.

Other than these moments, realistically I feel like I don’t get enough hints that Suho likes Sieun as more than friends, because his personality is naturally brash and teasing. Perhaps (highly likely) he’s having trouble understanding his feelings for Sieun, unlike Sieun who is downright down bad. If anything, S2 just confirms how much he loves Suho such that even I cannot simply put a “romantic” tag on it.

But I mean, there’s still a reason why I’m shipping them — the tension between them in S1 is off the fucking charts, especially during the door scene at Sieun’s apartment. It feels remotely nothing platonic, definitely a soulmate level of tension (romance though idk).

Yep, that’s why I sometimes think that Suho sees Sieun as a friend only. 🚨Mixed signals lol. Canonically me thinks, boy is at the very least unsure about his feelings and at the most, scared of confessing. Which also, partially explains his very measured reaction to Sieun in S2E8. He’d have definitely woken up a day or two earlier before asking Sieun to see him and heard about the things Sieun did for him.

I must say that straight out of S2, the fact that Suho wears Sieun’s grey hoodie jacket while meeting him is still saying something. Saying what? I’m wearing my boyfriend’s shirt behaviour? I think I like you? Thank you? I dunno. Brutal truth is we’ll never know unless the directors decide to stop queerbaiting and make them an actual couple.

[babyzzai]

arcane cglre labels ⋆˙⟡ ♡

vi: flip with caregiver lean // i think vi has a natural instinct to care for others, the way she cared for powder, and in a way mylo and claggor too. she just has such big sister energy that i cant not see her as a caregiver. despite this i think she still needs her own regression time, and her own time to decompress and let herself be taken care of for once. i think her little age is around 3-5! a bit on the younger side, because shes never really been taken care of before, and so being in a younger headspace would allow her to more easily depend on someone else.

jinx: regressor ALL the way. // oh my gawd. if jinx isnt a baby the sky is freaking like purple idk, because ill bet my top dollar shes a regressor. shes a very very mischievous baby lol, probably a chaos toddler, around 3-5 years old!

cait: neutral // shes never heard of age regression before she met vi, and was a little confused but ultimately accepting in the long run. shes not a caregiver but shell care for vi whenever she regresses, because she loves her!

jayce: regressor // for a long time he thought he was neutral too, but actually engaged in regression without realizing!! he doesnt really know his regression age. id say maybe somewhere between 6-10, but its kinda unsure. hes not that familiar with his regression and is kinda uneducated about it so even after finding out about agere he doesnt really know what to do with that.

viktor: flip with no lean!! // everyone hcs viktor as a little, which i can get behind because i think living with a terminal and chronic illness is traumatic for him and he regresses to cope with those feelings and the physical pain, but something in me sees so much potential of viktor as a gentle caregiver. oh my gawd caregiver viktor please save me, hes SO important to me!! i think viktor is actually pretty educated about age regression because hes a scientist and he understands psychology more than the other character probably. i think his regression age would be around 8-10, a bit older, but still a kiddo. sometimes hell go younger though, around 4-6.

ekko: regressor // idk why i have this headcanon, i just do. it just feels right. his regression age is around 5-7! he likes to try and use his hoverboard when regressed but he does not have the same control and balance as he does when big lol.

mel: neutral // i think mel is neutral but knows of age regression. shell be a babysitter for any littles in need but i dont think she has her own little tbh. she views it as something completely normal and natural, which shed be correct for, and doesnt think twice of it tbh. i think it was mel actually who first informed jayce of age regression and asked him if he thought he could be a regressor!

isha: regressor // isha is already pretty young, id guess probably between 8-10 years old literally. i think though shes experienced a lot of traumatic events, no one even really knows where her parents are in the show if im correct, and she regresses to around 1-3 years old! jinx isnt a caregiver but she sees herself as ishas big sister so of course shell… attempt to take care of her baby sister lol. caregiving may not come naturally to jinx, but she tries. she makes her fun toys and plays games like hide and seek and tag, and likes to doodle with the baby!

[notsoattractivearenti]

Wanna Prove It? (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 800+

Warnings/Tags: pure fluff

A/N: a short one cuz i need to get it out of my system lol. he really is gonna be a great dad one day to our children cuz christian and babies = 🫠😍💗💗💗! btw no it's not dad!pulisic (y'all gotta wait until christmas 😋). anyway hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍 (ps: if you want to be added in my taglist just lmk!)

—

Christian and I are having a chill night in, and we spend most of the night laying on our couch with TV on. He gets up into the kitchen to get us some ice cream while I scroll through my Instagram feed on my phone – until I stumble across a video posted by USMNT of Matt Turner and Tim Ream answering a couple of "dad" questions. Just in time, Christian walks back into the living room holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons in his hands.

“Babe, have you seen the video USMNT just posted on Instagram?”

“What video?” He replies.

I show the post to him briefly as he sits back and puts the ice cream and spoons on the table in front of us.

“Oh it’s Matt and Tim! I thought it was another VW video I did!” He laughs. “ I haven’t seen it. Let me have a look.”

“Watch it until the end, I think you’re going to love it.” I suggest as I hand my phone and grab the ice cream.

He watches the short clip and makes some little comments during. He isn’t aware at the moment but from my point of view, excitement is written clearly on his face. There’s no denying he genuinely loves his national teammates (or as he usually calls them: buddies) – he does have some wonderful bonds with most of them.

“Yeah, I can see Joe and Brenden being terrific dads.” He agrees with one of Matt’s answers on the video.

“Wh- Aww, stop it.” Christian slightly blushes when Matt stated Christian would be a great dad and Tim agreed with it. “They’re so nice for saying that.”

“I do love their kids. They’re adorable and sweet!” He excitedly adds. “Also, who doesn’t love to hold babies!?”

“People who don’t like babies, I suppose.” I spontaneously answer him with a mouth full of ice cream – even though he doesn’t ask for one.

“Well, I think they are missing out on one of the best things in the world.” He comments back and it makes me chuckle.

I want to get more reaction from him so I ask him, “Do you think they’re right? That you’re going to be a great dad?”

“Uh…” He pauses. “Do you?”

“Hey, I asked you first!” I jokingly point my finger at him. “Don’t turn it back at me.”

“I mean, I hope I will…” He shyly hesitates. “But I don’t know. I don’t want to sound so cocky...”

“I know you will.” I wink at him.

His face suddenly turns pinkish red but his eyes lighten up so quickly.

“Y/N…”

“Say what you want Chris, but you know I’m right.” I try to convince him.

“Maybe…” Though he sounds unsure, he still agrees with me. “You know, I’m glad you think that way.”

With a spoon still in my mouth, I give him a little smile and nod my head. “Mmhm, you’re most welcome.”

The conversation ends there and we go back to finishing our pint of ice cream - or so I thought.

“You wanna prove it?” He breaks the brief silence.

“Huh.” I think I know what he’s implying but I’m not quite sure. “Prove what?”

“We can make a baby right now and prove I’m capable of being a great dad.” He smirks as he gently grabs my shoulder, pulls me closer then whispers in my ear, “We don’t need to wonder no more…”

Yup. That is exactly what I thought when he said “prove it”. Now it’s my face that turns so red and I nearly choke on my ice cream when he whispered so seductively. Oh, he surely knows how to get me good – what a cheeky man my boyfriend is!

“Christian Mate Pulisic!” I playfully gasp. “You can’t be serious!”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He laughs seeing me so visibly flushed. “I am just offering something you and I both want, sweetheart.”

“Why are you so sure I want it?”

“Well, I mean, you literally talked about always wanting to have babies on our first date, didn’t you?” He states. “You can’t deny it. I remember every word you said, Y/N.”

“And I remember I specifically said one day when I’m finally ready, Chris!” I clarify his statement before he continues. “I am totally not there yet.”

“Okay, but you do want babies right? So my offer still stands.” He moves his eyebrows up and down while giving me a cheeky grin.

“Oh…” I cover my face and shake my head. “Of course but not now, babe! Besides, if I get pregnant today, it’ll be like… A teen pregnancy!”

“You’re in your 20s, Y/N!” He cackles at my remark.

“Still! I feel like I’m way too young to have a baby. I’m still one myself!” I jokingly whine.

“My God, Y/N, you are a baby.” He says sarcastically. “I’m just messing with you, my love.”

“I know, Chris, I’m not dumb.”

“Don’t worry, no need to rush, yeah? We can definitely wait.” He kisses my forehead. “‘Cause you’re the only baby mama I want.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 2)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here! | side B (part 1) found here!

author's note:

part two of side b!

the final installment.

it's been a long journey to get here, and any messages or words i read in the tags of the reblogs were a source of comfort for me during these times. i'm glad that my words resonated with even just one of you.

and of course, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

“Noona, I need help.”

Immediately, the older girl closed the book she was reading, a young adult romance novel and turned her attention to him. “You never ask for my help. What’s going on?”

“I… I like Y/N.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Jihoon balked. “What? Does everyone know this already?”

“Y/N doesn’t.”

He groaned loudly.

“Are you finally wanting to tell her?”

“I mean, yeah. I—I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I got just the thing for you, Jihoonie.”

Jihoon spent his time trying to come up with some elaborate and dramatic confession (per the advice of his noona). They sat in cafes, picking out different foods that the two of them knew you’d enjoy, scoping out different restaurants, going to the library and her handing him too many romance novels.

After a few weeks, “Noona, you sure this is going to work?”

“Nope.”

“What?! Then why am I doing this?”

“I was just curious to see how much you were willing to do for her. She deserves nothing less than the best, you know,” the girl grinned, now revealing her mischievous side, one that he has never seen before. “Jihoon, you really think that she’s going to want anything that’s a grand gesture?”

“Well. No, but I thought you would know her—”

“Jihoonie, there’s no one that knows her better than you, I think. You probably know her and see her for how she really is. More than she can see herself. All you have to do is just tell her the truth. That’s it.”

“…this was a waste of time.”

She hummed. “Hm, nothing came up for you?”

“What do you mean?”

He could see that she was fidgeting with her fingers. She let out a nervous laugh as she said, “I actually wanted to see whether you still liked me. Whether spending time with me was going to change your mind. Not that I wanted it to! But I didn’t want you to be wishy-washy. She needs stability. She’s already chaotic on her own.”

“You knew I liked you?”

“Just a tiny bit.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Would you have given me a chance?”

“Would you have tried?”

The two of them sat there for a moment, mulling over the weight of the words said between them. But they both knew that there was someone else in their lives who mattered more, who they truly yearned for. If Jihoon and his noona ever pursued something, it would’ve just been them trying to find comfort in each other because they couldn’t have who they wished for. They would’ve tried to shape each other to fit the missing puzzle piece, losing the essence of themselves.

Jihoon and his noona were only mere reflections of who they actually wanted, the illusion created because of how much time was spent together. And that image would’ve faded fast.

“No, I don’t think I would have.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Good luck with him.”

“Yeah… good luck with her. It’ll work out.”

──────────────────

Plenty of people could say that his noona was childish, that she should have picked another route to go down. That it all could’ve been left unsaid. But Jihoon was grateful for her choice to do what she did. Because you didn’t deserve that “what if?”. Neither did he. You both needed to be sure.

And he felt it, walking into the restaurant.

He immediately recognized you, even with your head down. He was so used to seeing you from afar that this was a sight that was unfortunately so familiar to him. He walked forward in hopes of closing the distance between the two of you.

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin said, frantically.

Jihoon held back his laughter, the sight of his hyung flustered a rare occurrence. “Hey, hyung.”

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

He could see that her eyes were screaming: save us. Jihoon wondered if he’d be able to. “Hi, noona.”

Ah, there you went.

Your eyes finally met his.

God, so beautiful.

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

Jihoon was startled. Since when did you curse? And the fuck word too? But it must be a new development considering the other two were making a huge commotion over it. But even in the midst of chastising, you didn’t break eye contact.

“It’s been a while.”

You blinked. “Um. Yes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. This was happening.

His brilliant and warm and fiery sun.

The reason behind why his own light exists.

His guide, his inspiration, his hope.

His firefly.

Close enough to reach out and catch.

But not quite yet.

“So, are you all done eating?”

“No, not even close! Only ordered one pajeon, but feel free to order anything that you want! Oppa will be covering,” his noona responded as she motioned for him to take the seat next to you. He did and immediately felt you tense up beside him. Jihoon mentally cursed at himself. He should’ve asked.

He decided to lean back in his chair to try to mimic the body language he hoped from you: relaxed. “Hyung’s the best.”

“One day, I’ll make you spend that idol money of yours.”

“Alright, it’s a deal.”

You must have recovered from your shock, since you piped up with a, “Wait. Shouldn’t you be careful about eating out? What if someone sees you here? Couldn’t something happen?”

Aw, you were worried for him. “This is a restaurant that’s frequented by SEVENTEEN. This specific table is so far removed in the corner that it’d be hard to get a good look at my face, especially since my back’s to them.”

You looked around and scanned the area, probably noticing the boisterous environment of hweshiks overpowering the casual dining you were partaking in. “Hm. Okay…”

“You worried about me?”

“No, I’m worried I’m going to end up in Dispatch with message requests from sasaeng fans.”

Jihoon felt the color drain from his face. “If you’re uncomfortable with me being here—”

You immediately shook your head. “That was a joke, I guess it was too serious of a reality for it to seem like one. Jihoon, thanks, really. But I’m scary good at ignoring people. Uh… I’m… I’m glad that you’re here. Seriously.” You paused for a moment, probably noticing the tension that he was too aware of. “Because we’re with two weakass eaters so it’s up to us to finish the job. Will you join me on our noble mission?”

He snorted out a ‘yes’ and the table laughed. Your cousin brought up a time where you were crying because you hated wasting food but the dish was too spicy but you were too stubborn to stop eating. You quickly reminded him that he was the one who tapped out first and left a 9-year-old to solve the issue (“Wouldn’t have been a problem for me if you didn’t create one, oppa!”). The four of you spent more time catching up than thinking about what to order until you were all brought back into the reality that you were at a restaurant and ordered nothing but a pajeon and drinks.

The older two let you and Jihoon decide, as you were both pickier eaters than they were. Once the food arrived, you fell into a rhythm of years’ practice. You pushed your portion of fish and beef onto his plate and he pushed his portion of bean sprouts and japchae onto yours. You both split the pork belly serving evenly between the two of you.

His arm would (accidentally) brush against yours but none of the tension remained from earlier. You didn’t retract, you didn’t run away. In fact, you poked his arm for his attention midway in the conversation and he never thought such a small thing could evoke such happiness.

──────────────────

Physical touch was never something that Jihoon craved. In fact, in most cases, he felt negatively towards it. So, the experience of being touch-starved was not something he knew anything about.

That is, until you were gone for two weeks at an academic competition.

Why the hell was an academic competition half a month? And during summer break? What did they expect middle schoolers to do? Solve world hunger with pi? (The number, not the food.)

You were spending your school vacation for the sake of more school.

What a stupid concept.

And you were on the same team as Baek Yunho, the star player of the baseball team and chemistry league. Jihoon saw the way that Yunho would try to come up to you after a game, but you only ever made a beeline towards Jihoon.

He didn’t realize just how much the two of you gravitated towards each other. Between class periods, he’d pinch your nose or flick your forehead or you would attempt to bring him to his knees by pushing your own into the back of his and fail miserably and he would roundhouse kick you in response. If the two of you had the time, you would go over to his house and dig your toes into his ribcage when he totally owned you during a game of Super Smash Bros. And during the summer, usually, you would be sprawled over him, back to back, as he would watch anime or play games on his phone and you would read your summer reading list.

But normal people wouldn’t consider that physical touch.

And yet here he was, genuinely touch-starved, because you were in Daegu with a whole seven days left.

He grumbled under his breath. Another day has gone by without seeing Baek Yunho during practice which meant another day that you were gone. Something that occupied his mind, as he opened the door to his bedroom, swinging his baseball bag onto his bed.

And he heard a loud, “ow!”

He saw you rubbing your knee on his bed, with a pout on your face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

That’s one way to say he missed you.

“I came back from my competition today to apparently get assaulted by my best friend.”

“I thought it was two weeks long.”

“The whole thing is, but I opted out of the award ceremony. Plus, I only competed in the writing and foreign language portion because that’s all they needed me for, which all happened in the first week.”

Jihoon’s mind didn’t catch up with his body as he reached for you. You yelped and threw a pillow at him, “Ew. No, you just got back from practice and you’re sweaty!”

“Firefly, you’re missing out on a rare opportunity.”

You paused for a moment, possibly recalling all the times he’s rejected a hug from you and realizing this indeed was very rare. “Can you at least wipe off your sweat?”

“Nope, not at all,” Jihoon snickered.

It was now a competition to see who would be the faster one, you rushing for the door or his arms. And of course, the athlete that he is, Jihoon won.

“You smell like the sun! Stop!”

He decidedly rubbed his neck into the shoulder of your shirt and you did your best to wiggle away, but failed. Your look of disdain was met with Jihoon’s satisfied one. “Lee Jihoon, you’re the worst.”

“I’m glad my punching bag is back.”

You pushed his hair back only to immediately retract. “Ugh! How does so much sweat just come out of you?”

“Does it matter when I have a towel right here?”

You pinched his ear as he pushed his sweaty forehead against the other shoulder of your shirt. You burst into a fit of giggles when he found your ticklish spot in the middle of your thigh, but soon enough, your ankle found purchase around his and pushed him onto the ground as you clambered away and into his closet, probably to find a shirt to change into.

He was left there on his bedroom floor, listening to your ramblings about his sweat, almost deliriously happy.

He was satisfied, no longer a starving man.

──────────────────

After the food was finished (thanks to the two of you), the four of you walked out of the restaurant, the couple saying they were so full they wanted to walk it off on the way to their hotel. They offered for the two of you to join them but you declined, saying the hotel was in the opposite direction of your home.

Your cousin felt uneasy leaving you to walk home on your own. But you pointed at Jihoon with your thumb and said, “Jihoonie can walk me home, if you’re so worried. But even if he can’t, I’ve lived here long enough. This isn’t anything new.”

As if your cousin completely ignored the latter half of what you said, he glanced at Jihoon who gave a quick nod. “I’ll walk her home. Don’t worry. Then I’ll take a taxi back myself.”

After much long-winded convincing, the two headed off to the hotel while you and him were left walking down the street, his own face masked up and covered with a baseball hat in case of anything.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home.”

“I’d like to, if that’s alright with you.”

He noticed you adjusting the hem of your shirt. “Okay. It’s a little bit of a walk from here. Maybe 30 to 40 minutes or so.”

“That’s 30 to 40 minutes I’d like to spend with you.”

“…yeah. I’d like that too.”

This felt almost surreal. You by his side.

But also so natural, almost inevitable.

As if this was all just waiting to happen.

After a moment’s pause, you asked him what he was doing for the coming months, if there were any plans.

“There’s a concert that Bumzu’s holding in Busan, and he’s asking some SEVENTEEN members to perform, so I’ll be doing a solo piece for that one.”

“Oh, SIMPLE?”

You immediately made a face as if you got caught admitting something embarrassing and Jihoon grinned. “Ah, you know my solo song?”

“Hm. Maybe…” You trailed off, looking everywhere but at him.

Cute.

“It might’ve possibly made it as my top song of the year in 2016.”

Agh, even cuter. “I’ll tell Yoon Jeonghan that he’s not actually your bias and you’re actually a Woozidan.”

“You can call me a Woozidan, you’d just be exceedingly and astronomically incorrect, like always. Unlike me, who is right, quite literally 100% of the time.”

Jihoon laughed. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m one of the brains in SEVENTEEN, alright?”

“That’s because you were forged in the fire that was your friendship with me. Of having to deal with my illogical thinking.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth.”

The mood between the two of you was solid and Jihoon felt his resolve flare up within him, gathering the courage to ask, “If I invited you to Bumzu’s concert, would you go?”

“Oh. The one in Busan?”

“Yes.”

“Uh. When is it? I’m supposed to start work in three weeks.”

He wondered how big of a Carat you were because he knew that most would jump at the opportunity, but he felt oddly reassured that you weren’t a fan who would shirk on your responsibilities. “It’s in two weeks. You can… uh, bring Hyejin?”

You blinked up at him. “You know her?”

“She, uh, is always on your Instagram.”

“That’s very sweet of you and she’s gonna freak out that you know her, but she’s actually going to be in Jeonju that entire week with Wheein-unnie because they’re visiting their family. And then none of my other friends know about me knowing you. But. You know what? What kind of Carat would I be if I turned down this offer?”

Great minds think alike. “So… I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you will. I’ll sing the chorus of SIMPLE so loud I’ll overpower even your vocals.”

“You know, I never said I was singing SIMPLE.”

“Oh, what? What are you singing then?”

Jihoon grinned. “Guess you’ll have to come and find out.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow, what an idol. Using your charm to convince me to use up my time and money.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“Enough that my wallet is in constant danger.”

“You know, I can always give you free things.”

“It’s okay. Buying your albums and merchandise and concert tickets have been the only way I can support you. And, well, I did promise I would be your number one fan.”

“‘S alright. That’s all in the past.”

Jihoon noticed you flinching at those words. Your voice was barely above a whisper, “…Is it really all in the past? It’s not that simple, is it, Jihoonie?”

He remained silent.

So did you.

You both walked, the evening stroll accompanied only by the artificial lights of the city, the sun having long since gone to rest and the light of the moon nowhere to be found.

You reached the doorstep of your apartment and you turned back to face him. “I think… We probably have a lot to talk about. But maybe the timing is off right now. I know I need to sort myself out, if that’s okay? I’m trying to do this thing where I think before I talk instead of just diving in and regretting something, you know?”

Jihoon nodded. He was all too familiar with that.

“But I just want to let you know that I still want to be a part of your life. And we can navigate how that will look like when we’re both not caught up in living our lives. Is… is that okay?”

He wanted to cry. “More than that.”

You smiled. “I’ll see you at the concert, Jihoonie.”

“I’ll see you, firefly.”

──────────────────

After that night, he was thrown back into his and SEVENTEEN’s work. Outside of Bumzu’s concert, they were working on their next album, aiming to release it in just two months, the theme centered around a youthful infatuation blossoming into a mature love.

He wondered what you would think of it.

One night, he was in his studio with Soonyoung again who looked over Jihoon’s latest solo for Bumzu’s concert.

“Jihoon, this is the saddest shit I’ve ever read.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Are you sure that this is what you’re wanting to perform? That this is what you want her to hear? In front of hundreds of people?”

“It’s… the most honest I can be. Yeah, it could scare her off. But I don’t think we can keep moving forward without addressing what happened between us. But I didn’t make this song to make her feel bad. I made it so I could let go of the pain I associate with the old her to be able to make space for the new her, you know what I mean?”

Soonyoung spared no expression. “Whatever you think is best, Hoon.”

“I’m just going to take a leap of faith,” Jihoon sighed. There really was no predicting exactly how things would turn out. You were different, he was different. There were too many unknown variables with the situation. “Hopefully she’ll be there to catch me.”

“Mm.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m thinking about how you’re going to be singing a ballad, pouring your true and genuine feelings, and I’ll be performing Hurricane in a tiger print shirt.”

Jihoon paused for a moment. “Duality of SEVENTEEN.”

──────────────────

You must have also been busy, as the only notification he got from you was on the day of the concert. It was a selfie of you at a gas station in the wee hours of the morning, no doubt filling your tank before your 4 and a half hour car ride, with a message saying, “i’m on my way to you! fueled by overpriced gas and cheap snacks!”

You were on your way. To him.

There was an electricity that was coursing through him that went beyond just nerves before a show. No, there was so much more riding on this, and as much as he wants to believe and trust that everything would work out in some way or another, there is the deep part of him that yearns for it to work out for the best. The most ideal cut.

He pressed his hands against his chest, as he tried to mimic compression.

But there was just too much bursting out of him to truly contain.

“Jihoon-ah, you alright?”

He must have looked like a crazed man to Jeonghan because the latter had an incredulous look on his face as soon as they made eye contact. “Do I not seem alright?”

“No.”

“Hyung.”

Jeonghan let out a low chuckle and moved behind him to squeeze the shoulders of the stressed man. “It’s okay to hope, you know.”

“It feels like hope is the reason I can’t breathe right now. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t care this much. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

“You’re right. You wouldn’t be. Without hope, you wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN. You wouldn't have become an idol, be our unit’s leader, become a producer, written songs, or even had the chance to reconcile with her. All of what you are would’ve been impossible without hope”

Jihoon bit his lip. “I feel like I’m going crazy, hyung. I keep going back and forth between whether it’s worth it. I haven’t felt anxiety like this in years. I know that lo–love–” Jihoon realized he never said that word so directly about her. He always found more poetic ways to dance around the word. “–can be a lot of work. But this? It makes me think that it’s not meant to be. When I see her and when I’m with her, it feels so right. But when she’s not in front of me, I feel like the best thing to do is to just run away.”

“Yeah, but you ran away last time, right?”

“And I wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN if I hadn’t.”

“But you’ve still pined after her for all these years.”

“Maybe that’s just me being stubborn.”

“Yeah, and? What about it?”

“What happens if I’m pining after her because I regret hurting someone I cared about, my best friend. What if I don’t actually love her–”

Jihoon’s voice caught in his throat.

Jeonghan answered in a low whisper, and Jihoon is sure that if he turned around, he would see pity in his older member’s eyes. “Jihoon–”

“No, I know,” he quickly cut him off, sighing. “Ridiculous notion. Hyung, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t understand myself at all. Just yesterday, I was talking a big game about how I needed to trust her and take a leap of faith and now it feels like I’m going back on it.”

“So, you don’t trust her?”

“That’s… not it.”

“Then what is it, Jihoon?”

“I… I can’t…”

“It’s just you and me here.”

Lee Jihoon and Yoon Jeonghan.

The very two people who were in that room together when that fateful encounter on social media occurred.

Yoon Jeonghan, the island of SEVENTEEN.

“What if she doesn’t love me back?”

Jeonghan felt Jihoon’s shoulders tremble underneath his grip. The older began to rub gentle circles and stood there in silence as the younger buried his face in his hands. “...She could.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“What if she does?”

“That’s not–”

“–How it works? Why are your worries more likely than your hope? Are they more logical? More based in reality? Listen, they’re all just thoughts driven by feelings. They both have an equal chance of happening, and yet you are convinced your worries are true. And maybe that’s your fault. Your fault because you keep suppressing your hope in fear of pain and rejection. So that later down the line, you can tell yourself that you knew it anyway. But guess what? This isn’t a game where you’re trying to come out of this as the least hurt.”

Jihoon felt lucky that Jeonghan couldn’t see his face.

“Just think of it as finally being able to let out the entire truth that you’ve been hiding for years, the truth that has been found in your lyrics, but is now finally going to reach the person you’ve hoped for so long that it would. She’ll be right there, listening to you. You’ve wanted it for so long. Don’t try to convince yourself all of a sudden that it’s not.”

“...Yeah.”

“Plus, they already have the line-up and backing vocals set up, so. It’s not like you can change it now. Go put your in-ear in. We’ll be in the audience. All of us.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“...I’m not sure if it means anything, but you’re a good man, Lee Jihoon. I’m proud of you.”

Jeonghan patted the younger’s shoulder before exiting the small space, leaving Jihoon to his own thoughts. Ones that no longer swirled over the possibility of pain or even the potential of reciprocation. Instead, he thought about his members. The ones he’s told he’s loved, both in teasing ways and genuine utterances.

And then he thought of you.

He’d like you to hear the same from him.

At least once.

(And hopefully more.)

──────────────────

Busan’s driving laws were nothing like the rest of Korea. 

Luckily growing up in Busan, you were aware of the way that the drivers swerved in and out of lanes, making illegal (?) turns any chance they got. The flow of traffic in Busan is so aggressively different from Seoul, that it felt as though you had to flip a switch to reorient yourself into the version of you that learned how to first drive in Busan.

Not long after the person you were driving to see had stormed out of your home.

You sighed.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the concert.

It felt almost embarrassing how much you daydreamed over him potentially singing a song to you. The reality is dangerously close to overlapping with the delusion that you found yourself trying to literally shake away the thoughts.

But how could you not be a little hopeful?

The love of your life invited you to a concert, with him singing a solo song.

Maybe he’d confess–

The honk of the car behind you pulled you out of your thoughts. You groaned loudly, slapping your forehead. “Get it together, Y/N!”

Jihoon had told you to enter the concert hall through a certain entrance, and that you wouldn’t need to wait amongst the lines. He recommended waiting until everyone else was seated, so you would still have 20 minutes to kill before entering the venue.

You drove, mentally fighting yourself every kilometer of the way, until you finally reached the venue. You showed the badge that Jihoon had given you and was directed towards the back lot where staff parked. You cut the engine and sat there, attempting to calm yourself down.

You immediately get a request for FaceTime on your phone.

You answer it.

“Bumblebee!”

“Unnie, I can feel myself eroding away.”

Hyejin rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

You heard Wheein’s voice in the background. “Is that Y/N?”

Hyejin answered, “Yeah. Wanna say something?”

Wheein popped into frame. You gave a weak wave. “Are you gonna confess today?”

“What? No. That wasn’t in the plan.”

“Okay? Then change the plan,” Wheein said, as though it was the most obvious thing.

“I just want to be friends.”

“Forever?” Wheein asked.

“For now,” Hyejin supplied.

You rolled your eyes. “Listen. All I know is that I want to be in his life, and whatever that looks like is still to be determined, alright?”

“But what do you want in the long run?”

“You know I can’t plan for the long-term. Let’s just take things day by day, alright?”

“Okay, but what if he confesses today?” Wheein asked.

“He won’t.”

“What if he does?”

“I–”

Hyejin tapped Wheein’s thigh off-camera. “She’ll handle it if it comes up. No matter what happens, we’ll be here to pick up your call, okay? Whether it be to sort out your feelings or to just fangirl about the concert. We’ll be here to listen to whatever you’re willing to share. There’s not much to do here in Jeonju anyway, so. Just hit us up.”

“Go eat Jeonju bibimbap.”

“We did,” they answered in unison.

You let out a short laugh. “Alright. Well. Regardless of everything, time will continue to pass. I’m going to just bask in the fact that I was invited by a member of my favorite idol group to watch his performance.”

“And that’s already cool as hell,” Wheein nodded.

The three of you chatted about their plans for the week while you did your best to focus on the conversation while still paying attention to the time left until the concert. Not long after, you bid them farewell to once again sit in silence in your car, pressing your hands against your chest.

It was time.

──────────────────

Bumzu’s concert started off as nothing less than spectacular.

You always admired his musical prowess, knowing that he was the one who helped Jihoon form his own identity as a producer and songwriter. Bumzu was a titan in his own right, his lyricism and musicality rivaling plenty of others in the field.

Although his talent is impeccable, the venue itself was small. His transition from performing towards writing and producing had a hand in influencing the number of tickets sold. You also realized belatedly that the concert wasn’t advertised to include the SEVENTEEN members that you were promised.

Regardless, it felt like such an intimate space, you were thankful for it.

You were in the upper gallery, away from the rest of the concert attendees. There wasn’t anyone else nearby you, and you assumed that would stay the case.

That is, until you heard someone sit right next to you.

You glanced over, not wanting to be overt in noticing them (although, Korean culture lends itself to staring at others outside of Seoul and Busan), and you felt your breath hitch.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I–yeah.”

“I recorded a video for you for your graduation,” the most beautifully ethereal man on this side of existence said. “Do you remember?”

“I–yeah.”

He flashed a brilliant grin. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

“I–yeah.”

“Congratulations on graduating.”

“I–” This time, his voice overlapped yours. “Yeah.”

You flushed. “Sorry. I’m just– I’m kind of taken aback.”

“I heard I was your favorite member, your bias.”

“Mm. That’s true.”

“Why is that the case?”

You paused for a moment, the vocals of Bumzu drowning out the sounds of your conversation. “They say that your bias is the one who’s most similar to you. And your bias wrecker is the one that you’d most likely want to date or be romantically involved with.”

“Oh, so, we’re similar?”

“In the way that we love others, I think? From what other members have said about you, the way that you love is both wide and deep. You love others in a way where you can be a home for them during times of hardship,” you said, sheepishly. It felt almost strange to claim you were as loving as you were, but. You knew yourself. You knew your heart. Even the bad parts. “Also, we both would cheat at games.”

“It’s the only way to play.”

“Winning is too easy otherwise,” you added.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “Well. That makes me feel better.”

“That I cheat at games?”

“No. That you love in the same way that I do. Because if you love Jihoonie as much as I love him, I think I have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“I do.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you. “I’m sorry?”

“I do love him,” you said, unhesitantly. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to tell one of Jihoon’s closest confidants this information. But, it wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t ever meant to be a secret. It was simply a fact. “There’s no way that I wouldn’t.”

“You… You haven’t doubted your feelings?”

This time you raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I? He’s easy to love.”

Jeonghan laughed. “You’re so right, Y/N. So. Is he your bias wrecker?”

“You mean the one that I want to date?”

“The very same.”

You saw the mischief in his eyes, and you felt yours bubble up inside. “I wonder.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you cheat at games, you don’t seem like a great liar.”

“Who said I was trying to?” You flashed him a toothy grin.

“It’s rather strange to see just how different the two of you are. And also, how human you seem. The way that he talks about you, you’d think otherwise.”

“Unfortunately, being human is all I know,” you said, trying to shove down the feeling of butterflies in your stomach at the mention of Jihoon speaking of you to his precious brothers.

Bumzu was now giving a ment, but you were still so focused on the man next to you.

He crossed his legs and looked out at the stage. He pursed his lips. “Y/N. He’s a bit of a handful sometimes, you know.”

“I’ve got two hands.”

He smirked at that. “Right. That you do. And if you and I really are similar, then. Well. I hope you really listen to what he has to say to you, even if it can be hard to hear. I hope you try to understand him even when he doesn’t make sense. And, of course, I hope you enjoy the rest of your life loving him.”

You felt some tears well up in your eyes. “I’ll try my best.”

Jeonghan looked at you softly and patted your knee. “That’s all I ask.”

He stood up and you gave a slight bow. He smiled and said, “Enjoy the show.”

Bumzu’s voice rang out: “And now, a special guest: WOOZI from SEVENTEEN.”

Your eyes snapped back towards the stage, barely noticing the figure of your bias move back out into the shadows of the concert hall. You were transfixed by the man walking out on stage, his pale skin glowing underneath the stage lights, his black collared shirt hanging loosely on his frame. The cheers could not distract you from the way he gripped and ungripped the microphone in his hand as he sat down on the stool.

He lifted the microphone to his lips and began speaking.

“Hello, everyone. I am SEVENTEEN’s WOOZI.”

His eyes were darting around, but only looking downwards, barely looking at the crowd. “Today, I’m going to sing a song that I’ve only ever sang once. Um. And that was by myself, in my studio. Not even the other members have heard it.”

The crowd were wowed at the prospect of hearing an entirely new song from a genius producer. Seeing the spotlight shine on him, you realize how bare he looked without his other members surrounding him. His vulnerability was amplified by the closer proximity of the space.

You knew he was the kind of person that would lessen the amount of lines he had solely to allow others to shine more. He wasn’t like the sun, the blazing fire that consumed the day. No, he was so much more like the moon, the one that would reflect others’ light, but in such a way that was never accosting.

Even on the stage in front of you, he glowed so ethereally, you wondered if he was always the fae that you believed lived near the winding tree at Old Man Park’s home. He was the guiding light in the midst of night, always present, but in a less overt way than its celestial partner.

The sun was stunning in its own right, life-giving, even, but the moon provided comfort to those who tread in the darkness.

And you’ve seen the way he has done just that.

Not just for you, but for millions around the world.

“This is, uh. A very personal song,” you couldn’t help but notice the way that his grip around his microphone tightened. “I’m not sure if many of you out there have been unsure about what the future holds. But, this song… captures that, I think. This is ‘What Kind of Future’.”

Your reaction to grab your phone to record was immediately cut off by the piano playing.

This… melody?

Your throat tightened. It sounded so similar to the lullaby he would sing–

As if nothing happened I told myself that it was all a dream. When I closed my eyes and opened them again, I wanted to wake up with a relief.

The melody was so familiar, but because of that, you could focus solely on the lyrics he sang. 

Was this song… about you?

No, your mind supplied. Don’t be delusional.

But what if it was?

Your heart began to pound loudly in your ears, and you had to take deep breaths so as to not miss anything that he had to say.

Our past that didn't line up If I could go back in time Rather than roughly, but warmly Would I be able to let you go?

Your eyes widened.

You thought back to that moment in your house.

Could it be–?

When we weren't over As I held onto whatever was left You let go of me as I refused Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You immediately recall the desperation on his face and the hurt in his voice that you couldn’t see until it was too late. It was shrouded by his anger and your desire to look away. To run away. Because, to a teen on the cusp of adulthood, that was easier than being honest.

This waiting It's not easy to endure If I forget that someday As if nothing is wrong Our future will be empty and It's not that I want to forget you

You never wanted to forget him. 

You couldn’t.

He surrounded you at every turn.

The best parts of you were things that you learned from him.

He softened your rough edges, quieted the inner criticisms, pacified the burning flames.

The idea of him never being a part of your life again was one that you could not fathom, even with all of your imagination. Because there was no way for the current you to exist without him. Not in a way that deemed him necessary, but in a way that his friendship, his love, for you shaped you into becoming someone you, yourself, learned to love as well.

Your future might have been filled with joy and happiness.

His, just as likely to.

But yours and his, as he said, our future, would be empty.

We were happy about us You, who isn't me anymore Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You tried to quell your tears as much as you could, in fear of missing even another moment with him. Because you realize now that the feelings you had were not one-sided. Of course, they couldn’t have been. The way that the two of you stuck by each other through thick and thin.

Why were you so adamant that it couldn’t be true?

What kind of future is coming before us? Even if the Heavens don't give us an answer I'm too stupid until the end So I don't know the answer

The love you had for each other was so simple.

It was so direct, so straight-forward.

But the two of you made it complicated.

Why?

You also didn’t have an answer.

The both of you, burdened by the decisions of the past, anxious about the potential of the future.

As his vocals rang out, as he cried out, the tears finally streamed down your warm cheeks. You buried your face into your hands, listening to his voice, but unable to withstand the sight of him holding his microphone with such gentle, yet firm, hands. The same ones that trembled at his side that fateful day. Your breath staggered as you wept for the past versions of you.

The ones who struggled and constantly questioned whether you were loved by the person you longed for. The ones who somehow convinced themselves that you weren’t, rather than trusting in the obvious truth that you always had been.

And still are.

As the song concluded with his smooth vocals, the crowd erupted into cheers. You raised your head and found him looking longingly up in your direction, and if you weren’t mistaken, at you. 

But how could he? 

The stage lights were so bright, you were sure it was impossible to see beyond the stage.

But with the way his gaze softened as your bottom lip trembled.

Maybe, just maybe.

As soon as the crowd settled down to a reasonable level, he began speaking again. “Thank you all for attending tonight. Bumzu-hyung is an artist that I admire a lot, so I feel really honored that I was able to share my music here. This song is… both personal and special. And I hope that, maybe, someone out there can understand what I was trying to convey.

“Carats, thank you always for your support. Remember to stay healthy; I’m always wishing for your happiness. We hope that you continue to love and support SEVENTEEN. I’m always humbled by Carat’s love for us, and I really wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

He began to fiddle with the microphone in his hands. 

“Did you know that…” He trailed off for a moment before he glanced up in your direction. Your breath hitched. “...If you dream of fireflies, they’re supposed to represent guidance and inspiration? Because they’re kind of like a beacon of light in the dark. And according to some, they’re also meant to represent taking a chance at an opportunity that’s right in front of you. And I, uh. I’ve been dreaming of fireflies for a long time. So, I think… that means that it’s time to try and take that chance. I’m not sure what it’ll look like, but…”

He shut his eyes for a moment, tilting his head backwards, looking as though he was allowing the weight of his words to really sink into him. He brought the microphone back up to his lips.

“Thank you again. I hope our future together is one of happiness.”

He gave a slight bow to the audience who cheered loudly for him. He, once again, looked up in your direction. You weren’t sure whether he could see your expression, so instead you lifted your phone screen at its highest brightness, open to the phone dial screen.

If he gave any semblance of acknowledgement, it was imperceptible.

Bumzu was welcomed back to the stage and squeezed Jihoon’s shoulder before the latter excused himself off of the stage.

Almost possessed, you followed suit, leaving the upper gallery to rush towards the restroom, out of earshot and view of anyone else.

Not even a minute later, your phone starts vibrating.

You answer immediately. “That was fast.”

“We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think?”

“Are you… running? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“Meet me outside. Staff parking lot.”

“I–”

“Security cleared it out.”

“Jihoon, I’m not fit like you! I’m not a runner.”

“I’m not asking you to be. I’ll wait for you as long as you need.”

Your heart swelled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll see you soon, firefly.”

The sound of his smile filled your senses as the call ended.

Despite your complaints earlier, your feet were carrying you at a pace you haven’t attempted since your required physical education class. Your eyes were darting around, searching, searching, searching. The adrenaline rushing through your body was enough to keep up your strides. You were rushing forward, and then–

You saw him.

He pushed his hair back, his chest rising up and down, attempting to catch his breath. He was definitely winded from the running. But there was no rest for the weary as your eyes locked. You found yourself barreling forward, not even really thinking of anything other than: him.

And his arms caught you with ease as you slammed yourself into his chest. He spun you around to lessen the impact, but tightened his grip on you. “Firefly–”

“Jihoonie.”

You held each other for a while.

Long enough for both of your breathing to even, for your heart rates to synchronize.

As though making up for lost time.

He adjusted his face just slightly away from the crook of your neck to speak. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“Yeah, well. I’m the driver, so no shit.”

Jihoon laughed and squeezed you closer to him. You let out a grunt. “You call the shots, firefly.”

You disentangled yourself from him and pulled out your car keys from your person. “Alright, get in, my passenger prince. Let’s take a trip down memory lane, hm?”

──────────────────

“Hi! My name is Y/N. Here’s a seashell!”

The young boy’s expression contorted into one of confusion. You were completely unaffected. He looked around at the empty playground, save for a few pigeons here and there, before pointing to himself. “Are you talking to me?”

You knew for a fact that he was someone that the CU convenience store auntie would call a ‘cutie’. You’d agree! “I’d like to!”

“I’m… I’m Lee Jihoon.”

“Okay, Jihoon! Can we be friends?”

“S-Sure.”

“Awesome!” You clapped your hands together. “I don’t really know what friends do together, but let’s go on the swings! You can sit first and I’ll push you. I’m very strong.”

“No, it’s okay! I can push you—”

“You don’t think I’m strong enough?”

“No, no. That’s not what I said—”

“Get on the swing, Lee Jihoon!”

“O-Okay.”

──────────────────

“Do you remember when I pushed you on the swing so hard that you lurched forward and got a nosebleed from falling onto your face?”

“That was the first day we met, firefly.”

“Well, I wanted to know if you remembered.”

“To the point that it haunts me.”

“You were so small and cute back then. So shy.”

You half expected that the two of you were going to drive in silence, just basking in each other’s presence. But, remaining true to the dynamic you two always had, there was still so much to talk about. You told him about the drive down from Seoul and how Busan really needed to up its driving laws to match the rest of the country. He told you about how Soonyoung just finished performing “Hurricane” on stage and Jeonghan sent him the video.

You told him about how Jeonghan actually approached you.

“Aha.”

You couldn’t turn to see his expression, so you asked, “Why? Is that a bad thing?”

“He, uh. Might’ve witnessed me have a bit of a mental breakdown backstage, so.”

You took his nervous laughter as a sign to not push further. “Honestly, me on any given Tuesday.”

“What, your grad program?”

“Oh, man, I gotta tell you.”

And so the two of you exchanged both stories and banter until you finally saw the shoreline coming into view. Just a couple of moments later, you parked your car along the sidewalk at the edge of the beach. This was a more local area, far away from tourist spots.

“Ah, this place.”

“Lotta memories here,” you said. You shot him a big smile as you turned off the engine. “Let’s go make a new one.”

The two of you exited your car and threw your socks and shoes into the trunk of your car, just like you did with his parents’ car, when you were children.

As you both walked towards the edge of the water, you were very aware of the silence that had fallen onto the two of you.

There was an instinct in you that told you to remain quiet.

“You know,” Jihoon broke the silence. You smiled to yourself. “I’ve always admired how you were able to be so honest about your feelings, without worrying about what other people think.”

“That’s the nice way of saying that I don’t think before I speak.”

He laughed and you relished in it. “Maybe.”

You skipped forward a bit more, letting your toes dig into the now cooled sand, the sun long set. You had your back turned to him as you waited for him to continue speaking.

“I was always someone who kept to himself. Who never really shared my heart with anyone.”

You hummed as you turned to face him directly. “You did in your own way, I think. You just needed people who knew how to read between the lines.”

“I was never honest about the hard stuff though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I constantly asked myself if I was worthy enough to love you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he continued.

“You loved me in such loud ways. You honestly left no room for doubt, and yet my brain managed to squeeze in some anyway. But… you know what I eventually realized?”

“What?”

“I realized that if I were to give myself to anyone, to be safe with anyone in the world, it would be okay if it was you. You’ve always been honest. Your sadness. Your joy. I know I can trust it. Maybe that’s naive considering how long we’ve spent apart. But you’ve never been anything but honest. So this is me trying to do the same. Y/N, my light, my firefly, I love you.”

In his eyes you saw him searching for something, anything. He might’ve not been able to interpret the expression on your face, but there was no need to. You pulled the collar of your shirt down to reveal the ink forever etched into your skin, placed over your heart.

Art that was drawn on a paper towel a decade ago.

You knew even in the dim light of the street lamps high above you, he could see it.

His jaw dropped. “Wait. That’s—”

“I broke one promise in my life. Just one. And I told myself I would never do it again. No matter how stupid the promises were, no matter how mundane, no matter how old they were. I would never break another promise. Because breaking that one promise ended up breaking me. The promise that I’d always be by your side.”

“What are you—?”

“Because it’s you, it’s always been you. Ever since I gave you that stupid seashell from this very beach,” you gestured at your surroundings. “And it was stupid because you could easily get your own, but you kept it. Like it was a precious treasure.”

The rampant beating in your chest matched the rhythm of your words.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Jihoon. I have no idea and I’m terrified. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know anything. Years at Yale, years at Seoul National, years spent in higher academia only taught me that I know so little. But you, oh, you were the worst reminder. I don’t get how you can make me feel so empty and filled at the same time. I don’t understand how you can make me feel at home with just a smile. I don’t know how you have such a hold on me. You’re just this strange enigma that I can’t seem to place, a riddle with no way to solve. But God, I so badly want to try. You’re a question I want to spend the rest of my life trying to answer. Because it’s you.”

He bit his lip and you wondered if you overwhelmed him.

“I’ve spent years, you know,” his voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Hoping that you would hear me. That my words would reach you,” he breathed out. His eyes softened as he recalled, “‘If a second life that’s different from now is to come to me, will I be by your side? Will you be by my side? I imagine things like this. Even if they’re words I mentioned as a joke. Will you believe me? Even if it’s a funny imagination. On a sudden day when I’m left alone, I’ll take my steps towards you again.’”

He stepped forward, hands reaching for yours, and you immediately took them, as soon as he was an arm’s length away. Physically, this wasn’t the closest he’s ever been, but it was the closest you’ve ever felt.

“‘You did this once before. Only by looking in your eyes I can tell. Whatever may happen, I want to know this emotion. When walking by my side, I don’t even want to let go of your hands. That flattering feeling is because of you, everything is so good.’”

He took another step forward, his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, hoping you could hear his words above his heart hammering in his chest.

“‘What can I do? Without you, my heart stops and it’s always cold. What can we do? Without me, you’ll struggle just as much, so what can we do?’” He paused, before recalling later lyrics. “‘I don’t wanna let you go like this. I don’t want to be scared with a broken heart. I’m the place you can come to. You’re the place I can go to.”

Tears formed in your eyes, but he brushed them away easily, now cupping your face within his hands, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, and you could have sworn he felt the fluttering of your eyelashes against him, dampened slightly by your watery eyes.

“‘I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you. In my heart, it’s always been you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now, but I hope these typical words will reach you.’”

You looked at him, your entire being filled and your senses flooded.

With him.

It was only him, him, him.

How could you not have realized?

His words, his feelings were so clear.

He had the kind of love for you that brings forth a melody.

His gentle voice drew you away from your own thoughts, “Thank you, firefly. For choosing me.”

“Always, Jihoonie. Always.”

He leaned in to close the distance.

You met him halfway.

──────────────────

Your hands were intertwined with his as you swung them lightly, back and forth, ebbing and flowing, like the waves almost reaching your feet on the coastline of the local beach where you would laze away during your adolescence and find adventure during your childhood.

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, the sounds of the ocean and lull of the town around you, just basking in what felt like the stars finally aligning.

Jihoon squeezed your hand for a moment. “You know, I thought you left because you realized that I had feelings for you and didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, still not letting go of his hand, the sea breeze weaving itself between his and your hair.

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was pretty obvious. Hyung and noona thought the same. They figured it out pretty early on.”

“Um.”

He blinked. “You had no idea?”

“I—I thought you were in love with noona—”

“Hey, I might’ve thought she was pretty, but you were the one that turned that into something it wasn’t.”

“What! What about the times we went to try and find out whether the mini golf place was fun enough for a date idea? Or whether the food stand near the beach was romantic enough?”

“Please tell me you’re hearing yourself.”

“I’m—”

“Jesus, firefly. Are you serious? Did I end up ever taking her there? Did I even try? All of those places, all of those times, those were meant for you. You were the one who kept bringing up noona and what she would like while I was trying to figure out whether it would’ve been weird to reach out and hold your hand.” His grip tightened on yours.

You flushed at that. “Okay, but like—you spent so much time with noona before I left.”

“Because she was trying to help me plan something to get it through your thick skull just how in love I was because obviously none of the other things I did was enough.”

“I—you—she’s better than me.”

“I just confessed that I was in love with you, and you’re focusing on her right now?”

You blabbered out incoherent sounds and he merely laughed in your face at your reaction.

(Or maybe at himself.)

“Dozens of songs of writing my feelings for you into the lyrics, and you still didn’t get it. So. I’ll try and say it as clearly as possible. I love you, Y/N. What can I do to get you to notice me? Because I’ll do it, firefly. I swear I will.”

You bit your lip.

“I got my driver’s license.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Uh… recently?”

“No. A month after you left, a month before I did. I got my driver’s license and I so badly wanted to call you to tell you. Because we talked about late night diner specials and how uncrowded the park was at six in the morning and you said I’d be your chauffeur forever.”

“Yeah, why should I have to learn?”

“Jihoon.”

“I’m doing alright without one, thanks.”

You rolled your eyes, but continued, “I drove around the neighborhood several times, passing by the mailboxes we used to Sharpie, the stop signs we tried to run up and slap, the sidewalks we crossed after hagwon, the sewer where we were convinced a clown lived.”

“That was a you thing, don’t drag me into it.”

“And I realized that none of it mattered if you weren’t in the passenger seat.”

“So, what are you saying? That I’m just good company?”

You eyed him and knew he was teasing, but there was a hint of insecurity underneath it. Because he said those words you had yet to acknowledge, let alone, respond to. The corner of your lips upturned. “Yeah, that’s it. And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to be in said company for at least one lifetime. I love you, Lee Jihoon.”

“You’re missing the ‘too,’ since I said it first.”

“You’re annoying.”

“It’s been one of the only ways to get you to look at me, firefly.”

“Mm. I’m always looking.”

“Respectfully?”

“Most times. Have you seen the ‘Good to Me’ choreo?”

He bumped your shoulder as you burst into a fit of giggles, choosing to let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his waist as he pretended to stomp off. He stuck his tongue out at you, calling you a pervert, and you said, “Hey, you’re the one that’s in love with me, alright?”

He swept you up into his arms and rather than carrying you princess-style or even in a piggy-back ride, he threw you over his shoulder and you yelped loudly. 

“Jihoon!”

“Y/N!”

“Let me go!”

“Nope. Never again.”

You made a gagging noise. Who is this shameless kid?

“I’ll put you down though, my shoulder hurts.”

You smacked it once you were on your own two feet and ran as much as you could with the weight of your feet sinking into the wet sand with each step. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you and tackled you to the ground. You fell back, with his hand behind your head, ensuring no damage to your person. You giggled up at him.

The edge of the waves were mere centimeters from you, but seeing him against the endless night sky, with glittering stars, him, your moon, you could not bring yourself to care.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, about his life as an idol, about his pursuits and his struggles and his hopes and his dreams. You were so excited to fall in love with him again. You hoped that he would be just as excited to love the person that you’ve become, the one that is so wholly you, but has been transformed by him.

Leaving things left unsaid was a burden the two of you bore for far too many years, believing that you deserved the painful yearning of each other, to make up for the choices made as teenagers.

You breathed in the salt of the sea, as you thought about how, years ago, you were in the same city, letting this very person walk away from you. Shame washed over you, as it has for years, like the waves that were ebbing and flowing right beside you, and tears began to form in your eyes. It was almost embarrassing, how easily you let him slip away. He deserved so much.

“I’m a lot,” you choked out.

He smiled softly as he cupped your face gently, not moving to brush away tears that were threatening to fall. He simply held you, wordlessly accepting all that you were.

“Never too much, and always enough, firefly.”

You wanted to thank whatever higher power was out there.

Whatever one compelled Jihoon to search your Instagram page and accidentally like a post from years ago, a notification that could have been swiped away accidentally in the middle of the night by a bleary-eyed and half-awake you.

Because what kind of future would’ve come otherwise?

Would you have reconnected in some other way, more purposeful and intentional?

Or would you have convinced yourselves that living apart was something that was inevitable and it was better to have simply let the past be the past?

Or would you have yearned for each other in ways that even the potential of running into each other would lead to an eruption of nerves?

You breathed in slowly as you wrapped your arms around his middle, breathing him in, letting his heartbeat drown out even the sound of the crashing ocean beside you.

It didn’t really matter.

This future will be one that you build.

Together.

[끝.]

[lair-of-the-white-worm]

Returned to the Oddworld tag after awhile away and saw your post about the "Abe is a pacifist he doesn't like using violence" take and-

(this ain't anon hate promise I know you've had some problems with that so let's get that out the way rn immediately)

That take is so utterly fascinating to me because I think what's happening here is a misunderstanding surrounding a trait of his he indisputably does have.

Namely- how much he hates this role destiny has chosen for him and how fucking stressed and anxious it makes him.

Every moment this guy is on screen doing hero stuff he's miserable about it. The original 1990s games had a bit more of a comical slant to it, but it was very much there. Soulstorm pulls no punches that he's freaking tf out and only holding it together because the lives of everyone he's ever loved depends on him pulling this wild shit off.

Now, because their captors won't just let 'em walk off, violence comes mandatory with the territory of being the promised hero. I think technically you can beat Soulstorm without killing, but there's no narrative consequence in either direction so I assume Abe did indeed kill people to manage what he did.

I don't think Abe hates killing people, necessarily. I mean like you said. Man LAUGHS. It's quiet but very much audible.

I think people assume that since figuring all this out is such a miserable experience for him, therefore, he must hate the dirtiest part of it- killing people. A thing that, to be fair, is not easy on the psyche. No matter how angry a person is, actually taking a life is A Lot. I can see where the logic train follows, even if I don't wholly subscribe to it. It doesn't help that he seems like a pretty kind, selfless person- yeah, he doesn't want to be doing any of this, but he genuinely cares about the others. He runs to comfort a dying stranger despite having only just gotten a bit of a lead in his frantic run through a BURNING CAVE from PEOPLE SHOOTING AT HIM. And apologies for not being able to save him! So much of Soulstorm is him worrying about other people. Folks don't tend to associate that kind of person with gleeful violence.

So, what exactly is Abe's relationship with violence? Hard to say! We get the quiet little laugh and that's it- could be anything from a stress response, the brain violently going WHAT THE FUCK UHHHHH MAKE NOISE, I GUESS in response to not knowing how to respond to watching a guy explode into meat nuggets. Could be a well I have to do this anyway so fuck it, I may as well enjoy what I can from this shitty experience and I'm not sorry about killing people that have abused and murdered us for years response.

The game makes it pretty clear he cares about what really matters, regardless, so it's fun seeing what particular characterization other people assume of him for this specific aspect of his personality, and how they make it fit with how we've seen him behave.

Anyway thank you for the opportunity to think on this aspect of him for a bit. I am very normal and sane about one (1) very anxious, tired blue man who needs a hug and a nap.

I don't even remember what post you're talking about anon lol but I appreciate the infodump! It's nice to hear other ppls takes. I'm assuming this was something I said offhandedly criticizing the old 2005 character bio for Abe, because that quote sounds like something from it.

Before I say anything further you have to keep in mind that Abes personality is staunchly different in Soulstorm. While he is still a reluctant hero, he's far from apathetic about it in Soulstorm. He's more confused and unsure than anything else, and the amount of times in that game where Toby and Alf, or the Keeper, need to step in and give him some insight kinda drills that home. Abe isn't really on his own anymore in Soulstorm. The pressure is very much still on, but he's not like, complaining about it? I don't know the right words to use. He's a lot more curious and actively wanting to be a savior figure, he's just so confused and unsure as to how.

In the original timeline, Abe is on his own for the most part. Yeah Alf and co help him cross the desert, but after that, Abe is back to doing everything on his own. He's angry. He's stressed out. And in Oddysee as well, he just learned that he's gonna be chopped up and sold as are his kin. Then he escapes and gets bombarded with the truth about his race. It's a lot at once. Like, in all honesty? Abe went postal. He's hucking literal grenades at sligs. He's lost it. He was just a janitor a day ago and now he's being told he's the goddamn messiah and if he doesn't follow his fate he and all his buddies are gonna die. Like, if I was him I wouldn't even take a MOMENT to consider the most nonviolent option. I'd consider the easiest. And I'd have no problem with a few casualties of the motherfuckers who have been beating the shit out of me and being racist to me my entire life. Abe has had enough and he has every right to be pissed.

Pacifist was never the right word to describe Abe. More like. An insurrectionist maybe, but he's far from organized. He wants a reform but also he wants a revolt. I mean, to be honest we don't really know much about what Abe wants. He's being told what his fate is and he's doing his best to follow it. If I were in his position, I'd be at a loss when it comes to rational descision making.

You have to remember as well, pacifism means non-violent. Even if Abe isn't killing, even if you were to somehow minimize any harm done to the sligs, Abe is still not a pacifist. In Oddysee, In Exoddus, in Munch, even in Soulstorm, he doesn't just harm people. He blows up buildings. He kills slogs that are in his way. He destroyes major structures. He is still going crazy with destruction even if he isn't doing any killing. And that's probably because he's scared! He's stressed! He's freaking the hell out! You stop caring about a lot of safety protocol when you're freaking the hell out.

Not to mention, Shrykull. While Shrykull is not Abe, it is still using Abe as a vessel, and its important to note that Shrykull is a god of balance. A god of creation and destruction. Just noting that there. While Abe may not have control of Shrykull, his body is still a vessel for a god that Breaks Shit.

Is abe a pacifist? Absolutely not. Does abe wish he was a pacifist? Also no. Abe wishes he didn't have to do any of this. Not because it involves violence but because his fellow Mudokon's lives are on the line. Abe is a wanted Mud. If he doesn't do any of this he's going to get killed. And then because he's been forced into the position he's in, his brothers will get killed. Its not that abes stressed out because he's having to enact violence. He's stressed out because if he doesn't act he and his brothers are Literally Going To Fucking Die. There's a lot on the line. And every tiny act of violence he does Increases My Chances Of Getting Killed. I'd be at my breaking point too. And I'd be getting rid of anybody in my way, and laughing to myself to cope with how much worse my life is becoming because of it and overwhelmingly traumatic the whole thing is.

Sorry I went off on a tangent there LOL. But yeah.

TL;DR: Abe is not a pacifist or an anarchist. He is a paranoid, vulnerable dude who was thrust into the shoes of "Saviour" and simply went postal because he didn't know what the hell else to do.