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sapphichotmess · 1 day

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Absolutely Smitten

Modern!Ellie Williams x Plus Size!f!Reader (not really specified but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song Absolutely Smitten

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing (not edited) with very little dialogue (idk how to human), fluff, meet cute, rushed ending, reader is able-bodied

~2.7k words

I am up to doing more parts of this! Maybe?

The melted-butter-colored morning sun filters through the windows of a quaint bakery, casting a warm glow across the wooden-floored interior. Birds chirp their songs, squirrels scutter up trees, causing the rustling of leaves, and an owl up too late calls out one last time. Such a beautiful sight is cause for a relaxing morning.

“Fuck!”

You curse as the all-too-familiar clatter of metal hitting the floor pierces the peaceful atmosphere of the bakery, abruptly drawing your attention away from the serene scene outside. Your brain still wanders as your non-stick shoes squeak on the tile flooring of the bakery, and it doesn’t catch up until you’re nearly toe-to-toe with disaster. Flour dusts otherwise pristine countertops like a fresh layer of snow and cascades like a white waterfall onto the floor. Bread dough clings stubbornly to multiple places in the kitchen: the countertop, the edges of the mixing bowl, and even the crevices between the tiles on the floor. Amidst the mess stood the culprit—a temperamental mixer that seemed to have a mind of its own recently.

"Of all the mornings for this to happen," you mutter, placing one hand on your head and one on your hip in frustration. This wasn't how you envisioned starting your day, but in the unforgiving world of small business ownership, setbacks like this were all too common.

With a resigned sigh, you set to work cleaning up the sticky, floury mess. You grab a towel and begin trying to wipe down the countertops first. The flour wipes off easily, some getting caught in the towel and some falling to the floor to be swept up. However, the dough sticks to the granite countertops no matter what you do. Your brows pinch in and your lips pull down at the edges as you realize that the dough is proving to be far more stubborn than anticipated. You try scraping it off with the edge of the towel, but it only smears and clings to the counter. Each attempt to remove it seems futile, making your blood boil.

Glancing over at the mixer, you can't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards the outdated piece of shit equipment. It had been a constant source of trouble lately, breaking down at the most inconvenient times and causing endless headaches.

Shaking your head at yourself for being mad at a machine, you step back, put your hands on your wide hips, and let out a controlled breath. You have to figure out how to fix this. And fast. Your bakery opens in—you look up to a clock and read the hands—shit! It opens in three hours!

Looking over the kitchen, you contemplate what you should do, trying to find an approach to cleaning up and getting a new batch of dough ready in three hours. As you focus on the mixer-made mess, inspiration strikes, and you bustle around to find a small bowl and a sponge, filling the bowl up with warm water. Your chest never rises, and you take slow, deliberate steps toward the mess with the full bowl, hoping it doesn’t tip and make an even bigger mess. When you make it to your destination, you dampen the sponge and gently dab at the dough, hoping that the moisture will help loosen its grip on the countertop.

To your relief, the tactic seems to work, albeit slowly. The dough begins to soften under the gentle pressure of the sponge, gradually loosening its hold on the granite surface. With careful persistence, you continue to work, methodically removing the stubborn remnants of dough until the countertops are once again clean and smooth. Once the dough is removed from the countertop, you get on your hands and knees to begin scrubbing it from the floor. This takes only a few minutes with the sponge and hot water. Finally, once all the pesky dough is removed from each and every nook and cranny, you grab the broom and start sweeping the flour from the floor.

As you sweep, your mind drifts to the tasks still left to do before opening time. Glancing at the clock, you realize you have less than three hours left. You nearly drop the broom from shock, not realizing that 30 minutes had gone by—you still need to get the new dough ready and finish the rest of the opening tasks.

Owning and managing this bakery by yourself is fucking difficult but you love it.

The aroma of fresh coffee fills the air as you start brewing a batch, ensuring that your customers will have their caffeine fix ready when the doors open. Meanwhile, you preheat the oven and begin preparing the day's first batch of pastries, expertly shaping dough into delicate croissants and twisting it into intricate shapes and florets for cinnamon rolls.

Trays of pastries fill the shelves, their golden crusts glistening invitingly in the soft morning light, now higher in the sky. The sound of the oven timer beeping signals that the first batch of cinnamon rolls is ready, and you quickly remove them from the heat, the tantalizing scent of warm cinnamon, brown butter, caramelized brown sugar, and yeasty bread filling the air.

With the rolls cooling on the counter, you turn your attention to the display case, arranging everything with steady hands and care to showcase their deliciousness to potential customers. The final touches are added—a dusting of powdered sugar here, a drizzle of simple syrup there—before you step back to admire your handiwork with a satisfied smile.

With only minutes to spare before opening time, you quickly tidy up the kitchen, wiping down countertops and washing dishes with practiced efficiency. The last of the flour is swept away, leaving the floor sparkling clean and ready to welcome customers.

Finally, shoes squeaking, you make it to the front entrance to unlock the door and flip the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open.’

But as you turn to walk back behind the counter, you hear a familiar bell ring.

The bell hanging above the door you just unlocked. The one you still stand in front of, back turned.

Suddenly, the floor is flying towards you, just a blur of dark hardwood before your eyes flutter closed, and all you can see is darkness.

When your eyes flutter open, pain explodes through your body, your eyebrows scrunching and eyes clenched back shut. Your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart races like it’s trying to break from your ribcage. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you struggle to regain your bearings, disoriented and dazed from the sudden fall.

What the fuck just happened?

Slowly, agonizingly, you manage to push yourself into a sitting position, blinking away the haze of confusion to assess the damage. Your head throbs with each accelerated heartbeat, a dull ache spreading through your limbs as you tentatively move to check for visible injuries. But before you can fully process what has just happened, a shadow falls over you, and a voice cuts through the fog of pain and confusion.

"Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

The raspy voice is laced with concern, tinged with a hint of panic, and it takes a moment for the words to register. When they do, you turn to see a figure kneeling beside you, their features blurred by the remnants of your fall.

Struggling to focus and blinking hard to try and clear your vision, you manage to make out a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you, filled with genuine worry, auburn eyebrows drawn in, causing worry lines to appear between them. As your vision fully clears, the face comes into sharper focus, and you realize that you've never seen this person before.

She sports a somewhat slender jawline, high cheekbones, proportional top and bottom lips—both somewhat plush—and fair skin smattered with freckles the looked like an artist took their brush and flung paint at them.

Despite the pain pulsing through your head and the disorientation of the fall, you find yourself momentarily captivated by the stranger's striking features. There's an undeniable warmth in her pale green gaze, a kindness that puts you at ease in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. Her eyebrows are still pulled together, the sight of the lines in between them making you want to reach out and smooth them away.

She cocks her head slightly, her short auburn hair swishing with the movement and catching a ray of sun, turning slightly red—the color reminds you of a brown border collie’s fur. As you follow the movement with your eyes, you register her earlier question. With pain still throbbing in your head you manage a weak nod, unable to find your voice amidst the chaos of the moment. The stranger's expression softens with relief at your response, the worry lines between her brows fading, and she reaches out a hand to help you to your feet.

"Here, let me help you up," she offers, her voice gentle as she assists you in standing. "I really didn't mean to slam the door like that. Are you sure you're okay?"

You manage another slight nod, though the throbbing in your head protests with each movement. Your eyes swim and something roils in your stomach, nausea curling up your esophagus. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself with the captivating stranger's support, her hands gently holding you around waist height so as to not make you uncomfortable.

Well, fall would be an understatement—it was more like a push to the floor.

Assaulted by your own door.

God, could this morning get any worse?

As you gain footing, knees no longer shaking—though if you keep looking into those eyes, they might start all over again—the stranger lets go of you, her right hand swiping over the top of her nose before both hands are tucked in her pockets. A soft blush spreads on her cheeks, moving up from her neck all the way into her hairline.

She still seems concerned, though, softly asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips at her sheepish expression. "I think so," you manage to reply, your voice faint but steady. "Just a bit shaken up, I guess."

The stranger nods in understanding, her expression softening with relief, though the blush stays. "I'm glad to hear that," she says, her tone genuine. "I really didn't mean to barrel into you with the door like that. I was just in a hurry, and… well, I guess I wasn't paying attention."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but chuckle breathlessly at her admission. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin widening, cheeks pushing up and making your eyes squint. "Just a little stumble, that's all."

With a shared laugh, the tension and awkwardness between you begin to bleed from the atmosphere. The stranger offers you a warm smile, straight white teeth glittering in the mid-morning sunlight, and a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"By the way," she says, extending a slightly shaking hand towards you, "I'm Ellie. Ellie Williams."

You grasp her hand in a firm shake, a sense of gratitude washing over you at the charming introduction. You were nervous standing here in front of this… piece of art sculpted by the likes of Michelangelo, and you knew you would have stumbled and made a fool while introducing yourself. Besides, her slight awkwardness is cute.

You give her your name back, saying, "Nice to meet you, Ellie," with a small grin, the remnants of a chuckle still lingering in the back of your throat, threatening to creep up as she shuffles on her feet awkwardly. “Though I don’t know if it is very nice since you kind of slammed into me with a door…”

She jerks as though hit with something, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening in shock. Her face darkens more, further showcasing freckles artistically splattered across her face. She stammers out another apology, her words tumbling over each other in her rush to express her regret.

"I-I'm so sorry," she says, her voice wavering with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I've been wanting to come into the bakery for a while now, and I guess I got a little too excited, and..."

Her words trail off into awkward silence as mortification registers on her face, her shoulders folding up towards her ears. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably, unable to meet your gaze. It's clear that Ellie is flustered, her cheeks flushed the deepest red you’ve ever seen as she struggles to articulate her thoughts.

Despite your lips turning up into a slight smile and choking on the giggles that tried to escape at the poor girl, you can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for her. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin softening. "Just a little unexpected introduction, that's all."

Ellie's shoulders relax slightly at your words, a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Ellie continues to fidget nervously, hand dragging over her nose again, you sense that there's more to her awkwardness than meets the eye. So, you offer her a kind word of reassurance. "You know," you begin, "you're always welcome here at the bakery. No need to rush next time."

At your invitation, Ellie's eyes light up with gratitude, looking more like an excited dog by the minute. "Thank you," she says, her voice light and filled with genuine appreciation as she bounces on her heels, her auburn hair dancing with her movement.

Feeling your cheeks heat at the depth of her stare, you find yourself fidgeting this time. There's something about Ellie's enthusiasm that's infectious, drawing you in despite the lingering discomfort from your fall.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Ellie reaches for a nearby pcake display, her eyes alight with anticipation. "I think I'll take one of these," she says, pointing to a freshly baked red velvet cupcake nestled among its companions.

You watch as she pays for her purchase, a sense of admiration growing within you for her unbridled enthusiasm. Despite the chaos of the morning, Ellie's presence has brought a ray of sunshine into your day, and you find yourself feeling grateful for the chance encounter.

Taking a moment to appreciate the way she lights up the room with her infectious energy, you can't help but wonder about the person behind the cheerful facade. There's a warmth in her eyes and a genuineness in her smile that speaks volumes, leaving you intrigued and wanting to learn more about her. And there's an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that feels both unexpected and strangely familiar.

So, you summon up your courage to do something probably wholly unprofessional as a business owner. You take a deep breath and meet Ellie's green gaze head-on. "Hey, um, would it be okay if I got your number?" you ask, your voice tentative but earnest.

Ellie's eyes widen in surprise at your request, but her smile only grows wider. "Of course!" she exclaims with a small scoff-like laugh, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "I'd love that."

With a sense of relief flooding through you, you fumble for your phone, fingers trembling slightly as you input Ellie's number. As you exchange contact information, a sense of excitement blooms within you, fueled by the prospect of getting to know Ellie better.

With a final exchange of smiles and promises to stay in touch, you bid Ellie farewell, watching as she heads off down the street with a spring in her step. As you turn back to the bakery, a sense of anticipation fills your chest, mingled with the lingering ache of your fall.

With a final nod of assurance to yourself, you straighten up and take a step forward. Despite the unexpected start to your encounter, there's something strangely comforting about Ellie's presence—as if fate had intervened to bring you together in that moment of chaos.

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@les4elliewilliams @abbyshands

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kit-williams · 2 days

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Plague Soup for the Soul

Plague Witch!Rader x Typhus the traveler, Herald of Nurgle

Tag list: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@plegg

Song on repeat: Hold, Release; Rakshasa & Carcasses

Word Count: 3242 3602 words too many

tw: Casual body horror? Gonna be real people idk how to tag this. Lots of insect stuff, update: SMUT

Food was important for Nurglites. It was embedded deep into their worship, their mythos, always a key part in their legends, and of course highly important to Grandfather Nurgle. For Plague Witches they acted as conduits for two important aspects of their god... as their bubbling cauldrons contained eternal soups and through these soups is how they would preform their magic & spread the love of Grandfather. They say the most skilled Plague Witch would even get a drop of the eternal brew into their cauldron if their soup and their skills of incorporating plagues into the broth was as skilled as how Grandfather did. A good base was the key like with any good soup! Just as much as Love, good ingredients & along with their own ways of enchanting their soups kept them going century after century. But, to get them that far wasn't easy as some would too quick to ravage the body fizzling out rapidly after infecting many... and others would get cold before the potency was there.

Typhus was the Herald of Nurgle... so deeply tied to his god... so he could tell that something had agitated the Lord of Plagues as the Nurglings were not giggling they were frustrated and impatient... no mischievous glint in their eyes, "Dearest little ones," He spoke to the hoard of Nurglings that kept him company the closest one looked up at Typhus with a dopey grin, "What displeases Grandfather? Have I not done enough to sway the Great Game in his favor? Have I not brought his love to enough planets recently?"

Grandpa is pleased with you!" One shouted over the rest before the hoard babbled out, "However, there is a plague witch in your fleet with the most delicious soup! But! They offer such a meager portion that it has taken Grandpa this long to figure out where they are." They babbled excitedly.

Typhus drummed his fingers against his stomach... it couldn't be any of the Plague Witches in his direct service as they all had large bubbling cauldrons and he knew for a fact they gave him & Grandfather their portions; even if it was a new brew they were trying. It had to be a fledgling... a newly blossomed witch with a starter base... Typhus drummed his chin humming. Such a potent base for a young soup... would mean they would be a powerful witch long term and if Typhus mentored him or her... "What is the soup like?"

"OH!" One shrieked as his hoard of nurglings had heard Nurgle praise the concoction, "Grandda says it hits right in the soul! Truly made with love! A perfect base that will lovingly cradle any plague! Grandda must find this witch! They hide from his blessings! I wonder if they are shy?" They all talked over each other leaving Typhus to wonder how to lure the witch out...

The wizened crone rubbed her chin as she was far more pus and pestilence than human at this point as she spat to the side onto a nurgling, "It has to be a fledgling doing this my lord... only one like that would offer so little, not out of being selfish but simply because of how little they have. Cauldrons like these take up so much room." Behind her was her brood of nurglings giggling & babbling as they worked around her cauldron for her as she talked to Typhus. Mortal helpers got ingredients ready passing them off to the bloated demons who giggled as they tossed them into the pot, "There are a couple of fledglings on this ship that I could think might be the ones you're after but their soups aren't even twenty years old... but if it is a fledgling they'll be feeding the masses and perfecting their craft. Though... I question if they are even trying." The crone says dismissively as a nurgling brings a ladle over for her to try and she sips her soup.

"What makes you say that?" Typhus inquires as he is not a Plague Witch and does not peer into the coven politics as why would he they simply have to make sure they give him their best.

"This mythical soup grandfather is looking for doesn't sound like it has any plagues in it. No one on your ship would dare try to make a soup like this without plagues. They might be simply dabbling in the techniques which has made something that infects the soul, a grand base if it exists, which would be wonderful for converting others to the cause. But, there are a few upstarts on other ships in the fleet... that I've heard grumbles and groans from of such young things competing with others whose cauldrons have been bubbling for centuries and millennia. But this is all I can theorize to help my lord." In the list that she gives to Typhus... your name is amongst them.

Your bells jingled as you carried your tiny portable cauldron now full of donated ingredients, used bones, scraps of meat, a few fungi, and other scavenged or bought items. Three tails behind you with bells tied to them via ribbons jangled behind you as you moved through the packed halls. You were excited as you got a small bit of pork as you had arrived when it had been freshly butchered. A small amount for you and the rest for your soup! So then everyone who ate what you cooked would be able to share even if they weren't as lucky as you.

You were almost home and you could maybe take a small nap before- you stop as you look down at the small hoard of nurglings just waiting in a pile outside of your door. You looked up at the many mouthed cultist with them giving you a haphazard grin at you, "I'm sorry miss they had heard about your soup..." You watch as one of them starts to lick your door, "They've been patiently waiting."

"I... I've got enough for them to share a bowl." You sigh softly but you can't help but smile at their antics... you suppose you didn't mind a late dinner. As you unlocked the door they were wonderfully well behaved as none of them rushed inside when you opened it and walked in just letting them watch you. Your own "cauldron" full of soup wasn't much larger than the portable one in your hands as you place it on your small counter. You pulled out your nicer wide rimmed bowl as it was for nurglings... "How paitently did you say they were waiting?" You ask as you grab your ladle.

"Very." The man said with a charming smile as your three tails whiped about behind you causing the bells on them to jingle as you walked over to the pot and gave them a large serving.

"Well I hope you all enjoy." You say putting the bowl down and then handed him a small cup full.

"Oh! Thank you." He says as you walk back into the room just barely hearing his mutter, "Divine Excrement... that's fucking amazing."

Moments like this you lived for... the way others eyes would light up as they would enjoy your cooking. It was always hard to refuse their request for seconds... just as you stood there as they all looked up at you holding the bowl politely asking for another bowl... "Ah ah ah fellas remember what she said. She could only spare us this amount and I'm certain she'll have more tomorrow?" He looked over at you and you nodded.

"Tomorrow I'll have a full cauldron and if you come early enough you can ask for seconds." That got the happy little creatures to cheer as you waved them off as you closed your door.

The cultist looked down at the nurgling with a large eye on its stomach as its iris was beloved grandfather's symbol... it was excited, bouncing all around as it was certain that this was it! The cultist pulled out a small device and radioed his lord, "Lord Typhus we found the witch."

You were tired as all you had left to do was enchant the soup and then you could finally enjoy your dinner. You rubbed your eye with the palm of your hand as the bells on your clothes and tails felt so heavy by this point but just a little bit longer. You thought to how you were close enough to be able to afford a proper cauldron and then you wouldn't have to limit yourself too much on how many people you could feed. Sure it would take up more of your already limited space but you knew it would be worth it! You were getting ready to enchant when you heard the door unlock... you looked worried as no one should be able to unlock your door even if they had good intentions. Your hand grabs the wood of the cleaver handle as not much of a fighter but you were going to try... why was there suddenly a buzzing noise and why was it so loud? The door opens and it gets even louder as you back yourself up into a corner as a Space Marine wedges themself into your door... and not just any Space Marine but the Herald of Nurgle himself... Typhus the Traveler... when his yellow eye lenses look right at you, you drop the clever out of fear and press against the wall.

He chuckle softly, "Well the blossoming Plague Witch that has been eluding Grandfather..." He looks around the room and right at your cauldron, "I can see why your offerings have been meager. Let me have a taste."

You swallow the lump of dread in your throat as you dare speak up, "It's not done yet.. my lord." You quickly tack on.

"Oh?" He said as he regarded you like a scared cat as you were pressed against the far wall, eyes wide with fear not daring to leave the threat in your sight, "When will it be?"

You swallow again, "Four minutes... I have to enchant it first." You hoped he would leave.

But you were not that lucky as he gestured to the cauldron, "Well do not let me keep you little witch. I might be patient but I do not possess Grandfather's long patience."

You inhale as you have to be a brave girl. You peel yourself away from the wall and stand in front of your bubbling cauldron, your back to Typhus. Your mind began to play its song as your head bobbed before your body started to sway as your bells began to jingle. The mouth on your lower back opened up as you sang with two mouths. Your movements were bouncy and at time violent as you focused on the words leaving your mouth and the way the bells rang with such pleasing chimes. You had forgotten Typhus was there watching you. You made your bounding way around your cauldron singing loudly as you were having fun, like you always did, putting your hands together as you crouched before jumping back up with a grin on your face.

Typhus watched as your hair bounced free from its ribbon holding it back. Your eyes glowing a bright green as you were lost in the ritual process as small jars of spices, herbs, and powders floated their way over to you. You took handfuls, pinches, and scoops as you added them in time with parts of the ritual where you weren't singing. The smile on your face wide as you sang louder and louder in a language unfamiliar to Typhus but that hardly mattered. Witches all had their own ways of enchanting and if a nonsense song was your way... he wouldn't question it.

You stop for a moment before violently spinning in place, your bells clamoring, as you sang in a high pitched voice... and Typhus could hear something respond in a voice that wasn't your own. You did this call and response three times. The climax of your enchantment approaches and you sing so loudly before your mouths howl in an otherworldly way. Your cauldron bubbling violently as you grab a handful of a spice blend from a pouch as you pause and chant out the last words before throwing it in. A cloud appears as it bubbles violently changing color from a dark brown to a yellow.

You deflate as you finish dancing. It was always so physically demanding to enchant your soup but it was worth it done this way... to see the happy faces of those eating your food! You turn around and yelp as you see Typhus in your doorway as you remember he was there watching you the whole time. You quickly grab your small portable cauldron and fill it, trying your best to not let any spill as you offer it to the Herald. He takes it and opens up the mouth plate and you avert your gaze as for Typhus he finally gets to taste this soup that Grandfather Nurgle has been pining after.

Typhus takes large gulps from the tiny thing you handed him... Oh! He can feel it worm its way right to his soul like some burrowing parasite! Yet it was like getting a warm embrace from a parent... or even a lover... that filled his limbs with a tingling warming happiness. Yet he could feel it also be akin to a gentle kiss from death... the sweetness of the lips leaving a mark on the skin and yet death fails to collect. He could feel his powers swell... his connection to Nurgle strengthen even! It washed over his SOUL and it was absolutely INVIGORATING and perhaps even a little ADDICTING like getting praise from Grandfather Nurgle.

"Fill it again." Typhus demands of you and of course you obey.

"Someone tend to her cauldron." You hear him bellow out as he pulls himself free of your door and you look confused. As another woman walks in and starts to tend to your soup. You put a lid on your small portable cauldron.

"Wait... what is going on." You say as you are led outside and other cultists lead you after the Herald of Nurgle. "Where am I being taken too." You ask fearfully.

Typhus decides to answer you, "To the Plague Cathedral upon the flagship, my ship. Grandfather demands a serving. And what better place to offer it to him."

You swallow as you follow him as those around you make sure you will be taken to the Cathedral.

You had only been here once before as the Cathedral on the flagship was more like a massive hive as unlike the giant fungi that grew around the church you went to... this was massive with so many insects around. You were led closer to the large ornate altar as it oozed honey as you could feel your shoes stick to the floor as well it went from floor to comb. Large insects of Nurgle skitter on the walls and ceiling as they watched and buzzed the closer you got.

"Come now little blossom." Typhus coos as you notice that the cultists with you stop at the last row of pews closest to the altar and yet Typhus gestures you to follow. The lump in your throat grows heavy as you say close to the herald as your new companions are a hoard of nurglings and the swarms that enter and leave from the large structures on his back.

"Open it up and leave it on the altar then come back right here." Typhus orders and you obey, putting it on the altar before you take the lid off and rush back to Typhus' side. You jump as the braziers suddenly blaze to life with sickly green flames.

You might not have been as connected to the warp as Typhus was but he could see a visage of his deity looking down, it was still a small offering but... it didn't matter as Nurgle finally had a taste of this soup that was eluding him just like the plague that made Ku'gath.

"Typhus! Have you tried this?" The voice said to him as you just flinched not understanding the loud voice filling the air around the alter and you wanted to hide behind the marine but you stayed.

"I have." He replies just looking up at the loud buzzing swarm that seems to gather. You try your best to not cower.

"Blessings! Blessings! How old is this soup?" The Grandfather inquired.

Typhus turned to you, "How long have you been tending to this?"

"Five years my lord."

"All of this in such a short amount of time! Blessings Typhus! Blessings! The garden will surely flourish with her delicious food!"

"Of Course Grandfather." He slammed his scythe into the comb keeping it standing as the destroyer hive buzzed loudly and you flinched.

"Blessings upon thee child! For the Grandfather has told me to bless thee! I come from the garden of plenty overflowing with milk and honey." He says just as if a sermon was being held. "And just as you will be embraced by the garden you two shall be a fountain of plenty... rejoice young witch!" The buzzing got louder and louder as the destroyer bugs all swarmed inside of him. The hand suddenly on your throat has you kicking your feet as they leave the ground as you are place on the altar and he once more removes his mouthplate. "Open up." His thumb rests on your chin and you obey... afraid of what will happen if you don't but equally scared of what will happen if you do.

As you open your mouth he opens his as you watch several destroyer bugs crawl out from his mouth as you can hear the faint noises from him as he... starts to regurgitate something. His shoulders move as his throat bobs and you are left helpless as to what is about to be placed into your mouth. You feel destroyer bugs landing on your face and on your body... antennae drumming against your skin. His mouth pushes to yours as something slowly crawls into your mouth... it's honey.

Your eyes open wide as destroyer hive honey was something that only champions of the Grandfather could have... but only in small amounts as too much would leave one into a mindless warp spawn. You eat the sweet sticky liquid as it just keeps oozing and oozing into your mouth before you... you start to convulse as Typhus pulls away running his tongue around your mouth just licking up the excess and wiping what oozed out onto his chin. Typhus enjoys the sickly sweet smell that permeates from you... or perhaps that is more of the hive's enjoyment as the smell he likes comes from between your legs but he could indulge in that later.

The sickening crack echoes as the side of your skull breaks apart as your hair solidifies into petals and a large, yet lightweight, flower has bloomed. A gift directly from the garden... Typhus lets his hands wander over your form letting his fingers press hard against your breasts and between your legs as you whimper feeling dazed and confused. Typhus decided that later was now as he bit the rough material between your legs and ground his teeth as it was shredded.

His tongue swipes up against your bared cunt as you whimper still confused as to what was going on... why your head was pounding... why there was so much buzzing in your ears... you're cunt quivers as you don't realize how the insects crawl over transformed flesh and lap up your nectar and brush against your pollen. Typhus in the meantime buzzes loudly himself as your honey is far more like nectar as well. His tongue pushing in hard and deep deep into your stigma like an insect pushing their labium deep down the style. His tongue pushed hard against the clitoris trying to get you to orgasm again... give him more nectar... Little Blossom give him more nectar!

You whine out as your nectar is swallowed up by Typhus for his hive to use... and he's not going to leave your flower wanting. He places his codpiece on the altar as Typhus grunts softly pushing the far too large cock inside of you. Your body relents as he buzzes out in enjoyment as he starts to cross pollinate you. Though if he were to go off of his allusion of earlier... this was the milk he had alluded to earlier. But his eyes were focused on the lovely flower on the side of your head... blood pooling in one of the combs on the altar as the pink petals had swirls of your hair in them... the rest was brain matter colored... bones... muscles... a beautiful human flower.

You look up at him still so very dazed but whimpering underneath the space marine as you wonder where you are... not realizing you're being fucked on the altar within the grand Cathedral. "Such a pretty little Blossom." Typhus grunts as he stills and rushes himself to completion as he will have more time to savor you later.

Typhus looks at you as he puts his codpiece on as cum oozes out of you as your flower is slowly closing up as you seem to be passing out. He picks you up and freed his scythe as it was now time to let you rest... for there was much for you to learn.

#canon x reader #warhammer 40k #the fleas got me #what started as thirst for florida man typhus evolved into Patient 0 just giving momrad the most down bad vibes #SO biohazardly downbad that I didn't even write for 30k Calas Typhon... no no I had to write for TYPHUS the Traveler #typhus the traveler #typhus #calas typhon #death guard #nurgle #x reader #reader insert #no sex but boy are we threading this needle #update: I added the sex #tw: smut

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krizariel · 3 days

Text

Stripper jason dating CEO Timmy :X

Big thank you to @galkyrie for indulging my midnight jaytim brainworms, helping me make sense of them and adding more to it. This is basically me putting together our convo, so not much of a fic.

FYI, for those who care about this: This AU ended up being switch because we can't help ourselves hence why I tagged both jaytim and timjay. Generally my AUs are more vague on that regard but on this one there's mention of both dynamics so figured, fair warning on this one.

They met at a small party thrown by Dickie and Kory (dating or married idk, whatever fits your fancy) for Dickie’s birthday. Tim is like a little brother to Dick and by extension, to Kory. Jay is close friends with Roy and Kory.

Somehow Tim and Jay had never crossed paths before; with Tim taking over higher responsibilities at the company because his father is ready to retire and leave it all up to him - he is proud of his son and despite whatever Tim says, Jack knows his son is more than ready - Tim has been busy and barely had time to socialize and well, have a life out of work.

They start talking, they hit it off pretty well. Somehow what they do for a living didn’t come up in their conversation because they were too busy talking about their hobbies, Star Trek, AngBang (Sauron has a ship and Jason couldn’t stop talking about it) and whether or not smore’s count as dinner.

They exchanged numbers but Tim never got to call him again until one night he saw him performing at the club. It was Tim’s birthday and as a surprise, his friend dragged him to a popular stripclub. Roy worked as a bartender there so he’d slip them free drinks every now and then.

When the show started, the room went crazy. Apparently, Jason was very popular and indeed, he was amazing. At some point Jason actually noticed him and even waved at him while he was spinning on the pole.

Steph: I’m sorry… did Mr. Beefcake actually waved at you!?

Tim: Looks like it

Steph: YOU KNOW HIM?

Tim: Well, remember that guy I told you about that I kinda liked, mayyyybe had a little crush on?...

Steph: YOUR CRUSH IS A STRIPPER?

Tim: I DIDN’T KNOW THAT PART!

Tim was a bit embarrassed and figured it was probably for the best that he never called him to ask him out, as he saw Jay work and all his audience ogling over him… he didn't know how he felt about dating a stripper. Plus, who knows if he’d even be interested… he must have many people behind him and flirting and looking like a sin incarnate is part of his job.

They met again out of work but Jay didn't even want to talk to him again because he figured Tim was just another uptight asshole who just judged Jay for his job so he didn't call him again and avoided him. Tim felt like a real asshole and figured it didn't harm to be friends... Jay was really cool and Tim enjoyed his time with him. Tim apologized for how he came through at the beginning.

Since then, they became friends, sometimes they would text or meet for coffee. It’s not dating - he tells himself- and every time he’d make a stop by the stripclub to grab a drink, hang out with Roy and Kory at the bar, ~~maybe catch a glimpse of Jay as he danced, flirted and got flirted back~~ he was always reminded of it.

Sometimes he’d get a lapdance himself. What’s the harm…nothing is gonna happen anyway. But oddly enough they’d mostly talk about their day. Tim would be the kind of guy that would sit on his hands to not touch and Jason found it really cute. He enjoyed teasing the little guy.

Other times, Tim pays for a private room/dance to give Jay an hour break from being on the floor, because he notices he is tired. Jason was surprised at first because he thought Tim was finally pulling moves on him but nope, instead he wants nothing but to give him a break and spend time with him, pulling his laptop to watch Star Trek since Jason hadn’t watched it and was interested. Jason just kept falling and falling for Tim’s little gestures. He knew Tim found him attractive, it was obvious, but he was always the proper guy, never making any advances, just making Jason feel cared… which WAS WORSE! because he was starting to imagine it was Tim instead of those men or women who’d he’d dance for. Jay just wanted Tim to fucking snap and fuck him senseless in that stupid couch from the private room. Meanwhile, Tim was starting to finally stop being in denial and was working out the courage to ask Jay on a date because he knows he caught feelings hard.

The next time Tim paid for a private dance, Jay was having none of it. He was going to put on a show and was determined to make Tim snap.

Jason, rolling his hips so his abs are almost brushing Tim's face: who'd think a CEO would be so timid … (Art here )

All the while Tim’s hands are hovering over his skin and not yet touching. Jason's kind of expecting him to get aggressive, or super eager, once he does touch him, but Tim's almost reverent when his fingertips brush along his outer thighs. Tim really -really- wanted to ask Jason out first but he is just about to lose it. And he does, eventually, snap and fuck Jason senseless on the couch. While they are cuddling Tim finally tells him he has been meaning to work up the courage to ask him out... Tim just tells him he wants to date him for real, he deserves to be dined and wined and maybe they are doing all this out of order… and Jason doesn't know how to respond because how is this man so damn cute and yet so savage. Jason asks him if he is sure… he doesn’t want this to be a on-time thing but he’d understand. Most of his previous lovers have ended quickly because they tried to pull the “savior” card, couldn’t get past what he does for a living and he doesn’t have plans to change this for anyone. But Tim is sure, he thought about what this means and he really wants to try if Jay will have him. Tim brings Jason flowers when he picks him up for the date and opens his car door for him. Just total romantic shit that Jason should be too jaded to fall for, but...it's Tim.

So it works on him, because he's already gone on Tim.

By the fourth course Jason's already daydreaming about peeling Tim out of his fancy suit and having his way with him on whatever stupid fancy couch he has at his penthouse. When they get back to Tim's place and Jason eases himself onto the couch and pats his lap like: I think it's your turn to be the one in my lap Tim: hope I don't need to dance because let me tell you already, I suck. But Jay walks him through it, gives him directions and suddenly Tim is taking orders. He finds he likes giving away control if its Jay.

For a while they were dating secretly but it was just because Tim didn't want the inevitable attention on their relationship and wanted to have privacy for them to develop their relationship first. He respected Jay’s job, he did it because he liked it and he was certainly amazing at it - but then Tim realized Jay might not be ok with Tim always introducing him as a friend even among their close friends because he thinks Tim is ashamed so he took Jay as his date to a Wayne gala. And of course people around Tim take it as a license to badmouth Jay and mock Tim by insinuating they had seen all there is to Jay (since some of them apparently went to the strip club Jay worked at). Jay was actually very charmed with Tim because unlike other boyfriends he’s had, Tim didn’t try to make him quit his job. Truly it took a lot from Tim at the beginning to get used to Jay dancing and everyone ogling over him… sometimes some men or women would recognize him while they were on a date and talk so amicably with him essentially ignoring Tim’s presence…but Tim focused on the fact that only Tim got to see how Jay sang while he cooked; how he genuinely laughed like a dork; how he screamed Tim’s name when he reached climax, how he slept like a starfish, etc, and slowly found he loved that more than any jealousy or insecurity he could feel.

and if you missed it, timjay art here

#jaytim #timjay #jason todd #tim drake #not fic

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violetashfall · 3 days

Text

Holding it together.

Where Carl cannot stop staring at the wrong person.

┊ ➶ ｡˚

!basically fem reader - 3rd person!

[name] is described as strong and midsize. (My attempt at an) unmedicated ADHD-coded personality - comes off as someone with high anxiety.

Special tag: @elisiassideb1tch (Hope you like it)

Be warned 5k words.

Slightly Pretend Warnings;

The ‘misunderstanding’ trope is buried in here

Lots of Insecurity & Anxiety (She’s stressed as hell)

Idk, Carl’s a loser PT2 and putting his one eye to use!

It’s so damn long, the opener is mad. I highlighted the part where Carl finally comes in, but it’s very focused on “[name]” instead of Carl through most of it.

lil angsty

The apocalypse wasn't an easy place, filled with more highways that killed you than took you anywhere needed, all roads tattered with dangerous potholes, deadends, or an invisible line that when crossed filled your stomach with animalistic fear, begging you to turn back.

That's what [names] mind felt like to her, each thought always led somewhere it shouldn't… and the only way she could turn it off was by hunting, she had to be quiet and precise, her thoughts stayed on the tracks she followed - and there was always a goal she could reach.

She couldn't say that about anything else, it didn't feel like it, nothing felt like there was an end to it, not even the end of the world.

…Throw yourself into something and you will succeed, that's what her dad always said - the man had problems but he knew how to teach her to hunt, to identify what mushrooms could be eaten, and what plants to nibble on for some extra energy.

Wake up, get ready, go hunting, catch something, eat, bring some back, settle down for the night - and then repeat. Never. Stop. Moving. Never start thinking about what she could never forget… because she knew if she stopped, that inevitable burnout would hit far quicker than she could handle, that suffocating knowledge of what would happen when she stopped terrified her because then all she could do was think, lay there - isolated as she always was, and just think.

Since [name] always brought back food to share with Alexandira, people noticed the only thing that never seemed to start moving was her mouth, when someone talked to her she stayed quiet, her mind screaming at her to just run, to make them stop speaking to her, stop acknowledging her…

It became a rule in her mind to not acknowledge something that didn't want to exist, that shouldn’t exist, and in [names] mind, that was her - the thing that shouldn’t be, just like the virus, the walkers, the collapse of everything… It didn't just stem from simple teenage insecurity, it was born from the world killing itself around her, there was no security to be found in the decay, the security she desperately needed and others somehow found.

While she tried not to look at herself, acknowledge she existed, that she could be seen and heard, felt, touched, she still knew her capabilities - you didn’t need to look in the mirror to know how far you could push yourself until breaking point, to know you’re already being pushed, how that band squeezing you, keeping you together would soon snap.

[name] knew she was strong, strong as whatever held her together, and even though she could hear that band around her groaning and feel it tightening, she didn’t stop moving, because if she kept moving then she didn’t have to think about the things that haunted her.

She was glad she could still find some light, tracing through the forests, each and every sound filling her mind instead of her overwhelming thoughts… even the fear was downed out.

So when Rick Grimes asked if Carl could accompany her on her hunts, asking her to teach his son a thing or two about tracking and foraging - [name] had to make a decision.

It gnawed at her for nights, she never felt right telling someone no, and it felt selfish to know she didn't want to take Carl, to teach him something so vital to survival, the guilt ate her up, the countless hours her stomach turned and her hands perspired from knowing her safe place would be filled with a watcher who had one piercing blue eye. She couldn’t concentrate during the days that slowly passed… she never could unless she threw herself into whatever finally stuck… all to be unforgivingly spat out without warning whenever her mind decided it was time to let go of everything, anything but the worry that ate her alive.

Ultimately, [name] felt she had to say yes, that week Rick gave her to mull it over got cut short when she agreed after three days.

It was just helping out a boy her age …Still, she was expecting the worst from their first hunt, praying the day never came and also begging for it to be over with already.

Carl wasn’t late, but [name] was early, she had waited and waited until the day came, beating herself up over how this little thing was affecting her so much. She had been standing and watching the gates from afar, the restless half hour already making her pacing feet sore. She wasn’t impatient, she swore it… so why couldn’t she wait like a “normal” person? That was a question she didn’t want to hear the answer to, and luckily the thoughts were interrupted by a sheriff’s hat catching her attention - Carl Grimes moving up to the gates with a pip in his step.

Carl was a… cool kid. He talked a little funny and always wore a goofy grin around his small family… That was pretty much all she knew about him as she tried not to know who she was feeding - she could imagine feeling that anxiety of someone you know going over the walls, risking themselves, so she tried not to know anybody.

“...So, uh… do you like comics?” Carl asked after many minutes of complete, tense, silence. They had gotten past the gates 30 minutes ago and all [name] did was throw him a nod and a ‘let's go’ It was not what he expected from a girl with eyes as full as hers were.

Similar to [name], Carl had been counting the days too, how couldn’t he? She was such a mystery… one he had the opportunity to learn from.

The voiceless silence held for another minute, the sounds of Carl’s boots stumbling over a tree root broke through the atmospheric sounds, prompting [name] to finally answer, “...No.” her voice was quiet and her eyes kept locked forward - She didn't mean to seem so standoffish, or rude, she just couldn't help but feel panic when someone, anyone, questioned her… she didn’t get how she was supposed to teach him anything, trying to figure what to point out, trying to catch a trail to even begin the “lesson”.

Carl's lips parted and closed several times as he tried to figure out what to say - he hadn't met a kid his age who just didn't like comics or was so blunt about it, every teen in Alexandria had opened one, it was one of the only forms of entertainment for them. “Have you ever read any?”

[name’s] jaw tightened a little. It wasn't like she wanted to seem unapproachable, she just didn't want to be approached… “No,” She answered again, it felt odd to say no, the words didn’t quite fit her tongue. That time her voice had a slight waver of nervousness Carl didn’t catch.

“Can you say you don't like them if you've never tried?” Carl questioned, wanting to start something friendly, lips twitching as he tried not to speak more and more. He didn’t even see the anxiety in all her movements or catch the uneasy glances she threw around the forest.

What would a girl like her have to be anxious about? …Other than the obvious of an apocalypse... she just seemed capable enough to deal with it on her own. Carl thought so, most people did, but [name] knew she wasn't. She resented herself for it - these were things she didn’t want anyone to uncover, so she didn’t answer his question with anything more than a shrug, keeping it short, nothing to grab on to and use for more conversation… more guilt inevitably built up.

Carl moved beside her as they walked, eye soon trained on her arm as her unbuttoned flannel draped off it. A part of him wanted to feel jealous that she was obviously stronger than him, insecure that the girl was in much better shape for the apocalypse - but instead, all he got was a lousy crush, one he had held for a few months, he was very curious about the girl who could out-hunt Daryl Dixon, had been since he saw 2 guards help her lug a deer into Alexandria.

[name] looked at Carl, feeling a slight glare coming along as she tugged her dropped sleeve back over her arm - feeling something she could only describe as insecurity crash over her in a heated wave. She finally realised how much Carl was eyeing her - looking at her more than she had herself in weeks.

She kept moving, hoping that embarrassed blush wouldn't follow her, that the worries and stupid insecurities wouldn't either, but they all followed her… reminding her of each and every emotion she was trying to suppress so desperately.

It was supposed to be her time, hunting, alone as always, the one thing she could do without losing interest, without failing - but now she had a watcher, someone trying to learn off her - someone acknowledging every move she made, all while trying to perceive her. She felt so weak when she realised she wanted to cry, that it was too much, that she was so overwhelmed - she didn’t know how to cool down, all she could do was wait.

Carl quickly diverted his attention when he realised he got caught staring - not quite feeling like the blind idiot he should have, he didn’t know she was insecure, didn't even think she could be.

She reminded him of certain women in his vintage comic books, the statuesque aliens from female-dominated planets, how they were drawn with strong, rounded arms and shapely legs with wide hips he just wanted to touch, how they dipped before meeting outer thigh. He quite liked those comics and began favouring them the older he got, looking over the pages for longer than he’d care to admit… Looking over [name] more than he’d care to admit.

These women were always depicted with poisonously neon skin and skimpy studded outfits, completely unrealistic, in all ways–Carl assumed. He didn’t believe he’d actually see a body reflect the shapes on paper so well, but there [names] body was, hidden under loose clothes that draped over her hips as if it were carefully chiselled marble, Carl was sure she was Aphrodite’s favourite creation.

[name] peeked over her shoulder to see Carl staring at her legs, lips closed yet jaw slightly slack… [name] thought he was about to talk with such an expression on his face. She looked forward again, cheeks flushed red and suddenly everything sounded too loud, time passed too slow, and she felt too seen, too judged. How was she supposed to believe she had caught an admirer when she was hellbent on pretending she didn't exist?

“You see everything around us? Can you tell how many animals and how little walkers move through here?” She asked Carl, desperately trying to get his attention off of her. She was not so subtly directing his attention to some animal tracks they could follow, anything to get his eye off her. Carl tore his stare away from her legs, her hips - looking around at what the hell he was supposed to find, “I think there are some rabbits that pass through?” He questioned, pointing at the small uneven breaks in the dirt, printed with hops of lucky little rabbit feet, he could also catch some chew marks on low plants - didn't that mean they were safe to eat?

[name] nodded her head, a slight shrug to her shoulders as her fists clenched and unclenched. “Mhm, good job.” She began walking to find a fresh trail to set Carl on, but Carl found it hard to walk without his knees wobbling for a second. Her murmured praise doing things to him - the person he admired so fully had complimented him.

Maybe his desperation to know her was from how aloof she seemed, how she didn’t look him in the eye or make conversation, she just seemed so uninterested in him - it made him want to get her attention so badly. He was so oblivious to how nervous he made her, everyone made her… So he started conversation again.

“So, how’d you learn this stuff?” He asked, following after her as he secured the bandage around his eye again, trying to stop his gawking by only looking at her face, he needed to see her rounded cheeks swell with a smile someday.

[name] tried to take some inconspicuous deep breaths, frustration flooding through her since he kept prying at her. [name] was trying to find the rabbit's tracks, trying not to break down and cry like the little child she felt she was... All she felt like she did was try sometimes, try and fail, but she didn’t fold that time, she kept a straight face, unaffected, “confident”...

“Let's follow these tracks.” She diverted - not wanting to answer his question. [name] found herself unable to straighten her neck from the slouch she walked in, an attempt at looking intrigued by the rabbit tracks she’d seen thousands of times before.

Carl nodded his head, once again failing to make eye contact with her at the rare time she wasn’t ahead of him. He shook his head, ready to try again any chance he got.

[name] knew she had to find a way to get behind him, let him feel like he was accomplishing something so he didn’t focus on her so entirely.

The little silence didn't last long, and neither did [names] mock interest, looking around the forest like she was trying to find something - only seeing trees, more trees, and maybe an extra tree.

Carl snuck up beside her as they slowly followed the trail, eye smoothly travelling to her after pretending the sky was so interesting, “The– uh, how you learnt?” He quickly fumbled what was supposed to be a smooth reminder, “--to hunt?” he cleared up like he meant to, cheeks puffing for a split second as he awkwardly coughed. “How’d you learn to hunt?”

[name] actually sighed at that, her step buffering for a moment when she realised what she had done, “Um, my dad?” She said, actually replying in a clearer tone, voice surprisingly gentle, subtly apologising for the irritability she showed, even if he may not have caught it, “He taught me, we lived in a small place… our backyard was basically a hunting ground.” To anyone, she’d sound friendly, open–but she felt like a Gecko dropping its tail, she was giving herself time to escape, to think of a plan to answer the least amount of questions she could while he thought on the one she had already given him.

Carl’s eyebrow raised, looking around at the tracks again as he subconsciously led, not noticing how she purposely kept dragging on a step to slow down and get behind him.

“That’s cool, deep in the woods?” He questioned, rolling his shoulders as he took more notice of the forest around them. [name] nodded her head, finally looking at him now he wasn’t staring at her, “Yeah, a super shabby cabin.” she rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the ache slowly subside.

Carl knew better than to ask about family, even though he was so curious. “That’s cool, you must feel more prepared than all of us.”

[name] wanted to disagree, she wanted her opinion known to such an assuming boy, but at the same time, she couldn't find any real desire to speak, not enough. Not nearly enough.

Carl realised she wasn't going to answer, what was he supposed to ask next? “Do you think these trails go on for long?” he thought that probably sounded like a stupid question, but what else was he supposed to ask? When he looked back at her, he managed to catch her eye contact for a second before she looked away. He had a little smile trying to curve the corner of his lips, finally... She had looked him in the eye.

“Maybe, they’re new…ish, we’ll see.” She tried to urge him to continue walking by picking up her pace, hoping he’d copy. The day had already been too long and it was only an hour since they left the walls, more and more were to be accumulated.

“...You’re out here a lot,” Carl murmured. Simple enough, as long as he got a few mumbles back he’d keep speaking. His mind raced with other questions though, mouth barely parted to prompt more and more, already itching for another answer. [name] wanted to roll her eyes again, feeling guilt pooling out her palms as she rubbed the anxious dew off and onto her jeans. “Mhm, Gotta be.”

“You sound like Daryl,” Carl chuckled, shaking his head a little at his thought, “do you know him?” He slowed his steps, trying to walk beside her in the awkwardly small path, a hand on the top of his hat so it didn’t get knocked off by all the tigs knocking his head.

“No.” She didn’t know anyone, Carl was bound to find out what a loser she was that day, something she didn’t want - why couldn't she just ghost her way through life? It’d be easier. She rubbed her eyebrow and took a big deep breath - Carl seeing what a nervous move that was got comforted by it, he wasn’t alone in his awkwardness anymore, “Oh… Have you ever talked to him?”

“No.” When was the last time she said ‘no’ so much? When she was a toddler throwing a tantrum after wearing the wrong socks? “--He grunted at me once, after I spooked him while sitting in a tree, I didn’t mean to - he didn’t know I was there until I snapped a twig.” She hated how much she was talking, it felt wrong, everything felt wrong.

Carl laughed a little, watching as her movements grew more anxious the longer she spoke - he assumed he’d get the reverse effect - how was he supposed to get her comfortable around him? She was out of his league, he didn’t get her, but he was hellbent on trying, “Sounds like him… You climb?”

Of course she climbed, you needed to climb better than you could run in the apocalypse, “Do you?” She asked, looking around again - clearly not focused on the trail at all, barely following after his steps. Carl didn’t know he’d be leading so fast, he didn’t mind though - it was nice to believe she thought him capable. “Yeah,” He nodded, voice cracking slightly - his freckled nose scrunching as his throat betrayed him, he wasn’t all that good at climbing, but he had to butter himself up.

[names] brows cocked with a lazy nod, once again Carl realised she wasn’t about to add anything else. She wasn’t a very talkative teacher, a part of him liked she was just letting him find things out on his own - he hadn’t got such aloof treatment from anyone else, and he didn’t seem to be a helpless kid in her mind. “You just sit in trees, huh?”

[name] felt his tone was mocking, creating trouble in her mind that wasn’t real. “Mhm,” She murmured her eyes moving to him and settling on his shoulders.

“That, that's cool…” He mumbled with a shrug, looking back to the trail as he tried to salvage the situation, why did he feel like he said the wrong thing? He was confused. “I bet you.. See a lot…” He dryly ended, mentally facepalming at his dull observation.

“Sometimes.” [name] replied, on the verge of becoming completely monosyllabic. She felt her stomach twist further, the back of her throat burning as the pressure to keep talking kept getting harder and harder to ignore, “Better to take a break in a tree than on the ground, don’t want to get eaten.”

Carl had a hard time listening to her mumble, but he caught it enough to reply, “Oh, right. Yeah, that’s true.” He sniffled airily, following the rabbity trail around a tree as the animal seemed to have drifted to the right. “Better safe than sorry,” He had to suppress the groan that wanted to come out–using parental sayings would totally woo her, right?

[name] hummed softly, a short moment that seemed to make all the sounds in the forest go silent for Carl. “My dad used to say that,” She said a little too naturally for her own liking. Carl peeked at her from the corner of his eye, did he ask about her father now? Would that be too much?

“My dad does too,” Safe enough, he thought, nodding his head as he picked up his pace to get some of that uncomfortable energy out.

The trail went on and on, and so did Carl’s thoughts the longer voiceless time seemed to pass, wondering who he was alone with.

…did she have friends? Who were they? Why were they her friends and he wasn’t? His thoughts bounced around–It’s not like he knew many people his age, there was Ron, dead. And there was Mikey but they drifted apart, luckily Enid stuck around - his second best friend after Michonne… Maybe [name] knew Enid? The two girls were practically the only ones in Alexandria. “Do you know Enid?” He broke the silence that had stretched for half an hour while they slowly trailed after the rabbit prints. [name] jumped a little, getting reminded she wasn’t alone as they had stopped for a minute. Carl searched around, trying to recatch the trail that went cold while she knelt to examine some mushrooms growing near the trees.

“...Your girlfriend?” She questioned - Carl was close to going red, his head whipping around to look at the girl who was poking at ghostly white mushrooms. “No! No–” He said, desperately trying to sound available to her - it didn’t help that [name] finally looked over her shoulder at him, eyes meeting his one. He was frozen, quickly cracking that ice that caused his muscles to go stiff and looked away. “She’s my best friend…” He mumbled, glancing at her to see something he didn’t expect - a cheeky fucking smirk that made his heart drop.

“Oh,” [name] said, examining the mushrooms once more, believing Carl just had a thing for the girl if he was acting shy and defensive. “No, I don’t. She’s sweet though, I’ve heard her laugh.”

Carl's brow furrowed, that was… cute. Would she say nice things about him to someone else?

[name] plucked a mushroom from the ground, standing up and moving towards Carl, twirling the capped fungi between two fingers. “You know what this is?” She asked, the prior silence that settled on them got her to calm some nerves, the deeper they got into the forest the more and more brush built up, and the closer the trees got - the harder it became for walkers to get through. Semi-safe, bustling with wildlife and plants that caught her eye… easy to ignore Carl’s presence that made her so nervous.

“Um,” He blinked, watching as she walked close - trying not to check her out anymore than he already had. “Is it... Edible?” He questioned, almost trying to get a hint, he wished he listened to Maggie more when she pointed out mushrooms to Glenn.

“No,” She said, “It’s very poisonous,” She told him, a brow raising. Carl saw how the plant interested her - finally, he found something she liked. Now he had to know everything about mushrooms. She spoke up again to his delight, “They’re usually just called Destroying Angel mushrooms, they're very pretty - right? But they can kill you.”

‘Like you’ Carl wanted to mutter, wondering why she was touching it if it was so poisonous, but he would touch her even if poison seeped from her skin, so… “You can touch it?” He asked, stepping closer to look at the mushroom, forgetting about the trail completely. “Yeah, but it’s best not to, just in case.” She shrugged, Carl unable to look away from her face again as his heart did flips - maybe all she needed was a mushroom to talk about and she was off - like him and his comics. He found her too sweet, “Oh, so… It’s only dangerous if you eat them?”

[name] nodded, catching his piercing blue eye for a second before her stomach got all tight again - quite mortified she was speaking so freely, having forgotten Carl was an actual person with thoughts, and quickly remembering his staring problem that got insecurities to swallow her whole. “Yeah, I’ve seen some deer nibble on them, I’m not sure if they’re edible to them or if they don’t eat enough to get sick.” She decided to throw some more information out, she was supposed to be teaching him after all…

Carl couldn’t figure out how to respond, what was happening? Did he throw out another “cool”? A “that's so awesome”? He stayed quiet to his horror, but [name] didn’t seem to mind at all, if anything she preferred the silence.

“Have you lost the trail? Need me to help?” She asked, moving away from the boy as he fidgeted with his sheriff's hat. As Carl stuttered a sentence, brain lagging as he tried to say no - but she had already pinpointed where it started again, little black boots continuing through the uneven grass the rabbit had hopped through. She decided to say some more, figuring out just how to keep him quiet, she’d try his ego next - giving him another compliment to fill his mind instead of curiosity, “You’re doing really good, I thought you’d lose the trail much earlier than this.” God, she felt so awkward.

“Thanks?” He said as he caught up to her, not knowing if she was dissing him by assuming he’d lose it quicker than he did, but he couldn’t deny how happy he felt that she said he was great… well, doing great. “...Say we do find rabbits, do we just… bring them back? Do I get to shoot?” He asked, not exactly wanting to kill fluffy little creatures, but he knew he had to suck it up, he planned on living until his last elderly breath - and he had to be able to hunt if that was going to happen, scavenging was already becoming harder and harder.

“Sure, If you want.” She agreed, nodding her head as she answered his questions, “They’re just rabbits.. they shouldn’t be hard to bring back.” She shrugged her shoulders, feeling more comfortable around him if she ignored how he had stared at her… But she wasn’t the best at ignoring intrusive thoughts, the ones that told her he was judging her.

“Right, yeah.” Carl nodded, eye flickering with a blink as the sun that leaked through the forest's canopy pooled into his pupil, if only he didn’t look like an idiot when wearing sunglasses. “Um, do you take many breaks?” He wondered, he didn’t want to seem weak like he needed breaks - but he was one-eyed with a dodgy ear canal: he got dizzy easily - it meant he did indeed need breaks, the ones he usually refused to take…

[name] wanted to say no, tell him the truth, but Rick had warned her about his son's difficulty after the poor boy got shot in the face - Carl had easy enough needs to accommodate, god knows she had them too, ones that weren’t as simple as his. “Yeah, of course.” She nodded her head, she was ready for one thing - and that was making it easy on Carl to get through the hunt - because if she was easy on him, that meant less would go wrong, no extra difficulty to overcome. “Would you like one now?” She questioned. Carl shook his head - playing it cool, “No,” He told her before reluctantly adding, “Maybe in 20 minutes?” He knew his limits, and he couldn’t risk pushing them too far with [name] bearing witness.

“Sounds good,” She agreed, not knowing how she was supposed to have a break, what was she supposed to do? Just sit..? What if it turned into her never wanting to get up again? That had happened more times than she could count.

Carl began following the trail quicker than before, fumbling limbs rushing to impress her with pretend ease he didn’t really have. The longer he spent in the forest the more things he began messing up, he thought she'd be tough about it, but she just silently pointed to the tracks he missed when he got too twisted up. he needed a break half an hour ago, but he could push himself a little further - just for her.

Tracking through the forest wasn’t easy for Carl if he wasn’t getting distracted by how [name] moved it was his headache that began building, it didn’t matter how many sips of water he took he needed to take a painkiller, ones he didn’t like using knowing someone else could need them more than him, but he needed to be his best self in front of [name] so he discreetly took a few when she wasn’t looking.

“Can we take a break?” He rubbed the back of his head, feet planted on the ground as dizziness fogged his mind, ready to sit and wait for the medication to kick in.

[name] looked at Carl as she paused with him, seeing a small grimace on his face - Rick had warned her about the migraines. “Good spot to sit a while,” She agreed, kicking her boots through some fallen leaves, hand getting placed on the trunk of a tree she resisted climbing up instinctively - despite what Carl said earlier, she couldn’t imagine he’d be in a good place to climb. She could sit on the ground that once, she didn’t always need to be on full alert... Right?

Moving to a small clearing, [name] sat down on littered grass, able to see little bugs move through the dirt. Carl watched as she sat, not so sneakily trying to sit beside her… staring at her from the corner of his eye, yet he couldn’t do it for long, finally giving into the urge to lean back against a tree and cover his vision with his hat, blocking out the bright light that had been taunting him ever since he got shot.

[name] watched with some curiosity, seeing how the boy just… stopped. He made it look easy, like a choice, she wanted to copy him - to see if she could get used to breaks too. She took a tense breath, shuffling to rest against the tree closest to her. She leaned back, slowly closing her eyes, ankles crossed over each other as her head fell back against wood.

The more [name] thought about it the easier she felt around him, Carl was damaged too - maybe she didn’t have to wear a full mask around him, well, a full suit of armour was the better description...

Maybe agreeing to Rick’s request wasn’t so bad after all, because there she sat - for once able to stop without her thoughts filling the depths of her mind with draining worry… Maybe the rest of her day wouldn’t be so bad…

SO, I’m impressed if you read this far! I had so much fun writing this, I got stuck many times near the “end”… still, I’m hoping to make a little series :) Confession time: I haven't watched TWD in a year, I’m so scared to rewatch it because jesusss do I get jealous (Of a zombie apocalypse, I know..) I get a little crazy and so despondent, I think I’m gonna flip through clips so I remember how the characters act instead.

I’m so surprised I’m publishing another Carl story before I posted a Ron or Enid one, but It got prompted by a request from a lovely person so how couldn't I?!? It’s so long but I feel like I have much more I wanted to write anyway...

#carl grimes x reader #Carl is a loser in this because I said so #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #carl grimes angst

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stevesfuzzypinkslippers · 23 hours

Text

living with the lepps

you’re in the kitchen making dinner for the boys after their long day over in the recording studio, and the first thing you hear the instant that door swings wide open is the sound of joe’s booming, rambling voice, even if he’s the last one in: “aNd thEN hE’s liKe tO mE…”

“bloody christ, elliott, d’ye never know how or when to fuckin’ shut up?!” you smile knowing that was sav putting his husband in his place (that was an inside joke you and the rest of the boys had) “‘aven’t been able to get a bloody word in all day…” he shakes his head and mumbles, rolling his eyes to the sky.

you feel two arms wrap around you from behind, and you recognize the familiar sound of steve’s soft voice mumbling in your ear “help me y/n, they’ve been arguing all day.”

you roll your eyes and simply respond, “just help me make this stew for t’nite, that’ll take your mind off things.”

“ooh i wanna help!” phil nearly knocks you over as he appears at your other side, semi-crashing into the array of kitchenware you have assembled on the stovetop.

you breathe out a small sigh of relief, thankful that he was conscious enough to prevent catastrophic disaster. not the first time this has been nearly avoided, either.

they’re both breathing down your necks as you work and they do their very best (feeble pathetic attempt) to “help” you, except all you hear us stupid banter back and forth between them. they’re like your big lap dogs hovering right around your knees, looking up at you with pleading eyes, anxiously waiting in anticipation for a scrap to drop.

“is the food ready yet?” rick innocently asks, appearing into the kitchen.

“fuck off, not yet,” phil nearly spats in his face.

“hey, hey, be nice,” you roll you eyes, knowing sav would be proud for you taking on the mom role at this hour. bet he was too exhausted after dealing with ‘em all day in the studio.

“mmm… smells good,” now joe is right next to me.

“d’ye mind giving’ me a little *breathing room* around here?!” you sigh in exasperation. “like geez…”

“boys, off her now,” sav shooes them away, while appearing where joe had stood, placing a hand on your shoulder. “ooh, they’re right, anyways, sorry about them, now y’know what i’ve to put up with all day.”

“no worries,” you chuckle, receiving a gentle kiss on the cheek from the curly fellow. “i’ve kind of always wanted brothers, in a way.”

eh idk if i wanna continue this, this was just something dumb i came up with on the fly.

also @i-love-def-leppard this made me think of your fic lmaoo

tagging @littlemissheavenonearth @steveinscarlet @jimmysdragonsuit13 @armageddonviv @terrortwinsfav @joes-sha-la-la-la-girl @elliotts-personal-property @discothequechaser @genxrocker @defsteria @leppardcampbelllove

#def leppard #def leppard x reader #def leppard headcanon #steve clark #joe elliott #phil collen #rick savage #rick allen

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littleholmes · 2 days

Text

If no one else has the guts to do it, then I’ll be the monster!

This…makes so much sense.

I’m gonna ramble for a second but—damn. It really goes back to when Satoru and Suguru were in high school and those pivotal losses of Amanai and Haibara that really forced these two to confront the horrible reality that is their jujutsu society.

From birth, everything has been riding on Satoru Gojo. He’s had to do everything because he’s the Six Eyes and has the Limitless technique and it’s just expected. He’s had bounties and death threats since before he could crawl, and he’s grown up as the strongest and has had to do so much for the jujutsu society because that’s his role. That’s the expectation. He’s had to bear the burden of the whole jujutsu world riding on him and he’s been lonely at the top—until Suguru, who was the closest to his equal in power. Both of them experienced the day Amanai was killed, and Satoru immediately went into “why don’t we just kill them?” mode, but they didn’t.

Then later when Haibara died and Nanami wanted to just leave everything to Satoru, Suguru was reminded that this jujutsu world they’re in has so much hinging on sorcerers as cogs in the machine and pawns in the sacrifice, and that Satoru holds the most amount of power—and it still isn’t enough. When he saved Mimiko and Nanako and chose his path, he tried to get Satoru to join him so they could both just end this and stop being pawns and take control instead of being controlled, but they separated and went about it in differently, each becoming monstrous in their own ways—and it wasn’t enough. It still isn’t enough.

No matter what he does, sorcerers are still being sacrificed, the youth of young sorcerers keeps getting snatched away and replaced with death and stress and fighting much like it was for Suguru and Shoko and himself, and unnecessary losses keep happening and the higher ups are in on it, so many people are in on it, and he’s still the biggest player on the chessboard, so he couldn’t get away and live on his own terms like Suguru, who surpassed him in one of the biggest ways, and that’s by leaving this system and doing things for himself without the higher ups and the other head families further using him and his abilities as the last bastion of safety.

They were both the strongest but there was only one Satoru Gojo and he couldn’t just leave. He had to stay, continue to be the monster, and be alone the entire time as he gets used by the system. Even after death he’s needed and I just…damn this jujutsu society. And one of the last things he could do to help his students is take out the higher ups so if they make it out and survive this, the jujutsu society hopefully will change and the students can have a chance at a future and a different life than his and Suguru.

Idk I’m rambling and I’m sure this doesn’t make sense and, as always I’m tagging in @psychewritesbs but the jujutsu society is so awful and it made a monster out of Satoru and Suguru and they’re both collateral in this machine that is still churning and using these students and sorcerers who get nothing in return but death, and few to no options as they continue to move forward and dismantle these generations-old systems (Maki and the Zenin clan, Satoru and these higher ups, Yuta and Kenjaku (and then reclaiming Kenjaku’s technique for good)) and try to win this so they can hopefully, maybe, perhaps, possibly reclaim their futures.

#jjk #jjk 261 #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #suguru geto #jjk manga spoilers #yuta okkotsu #jjk manga #jjk thoughts #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers #jjk analysis #idk i’m rambling #geto suguru #maki zenin #okkotsu yuuta #gojou satoru

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gomapda · 1 day

Text

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 skirt 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 beared 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.]

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