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mysicklove · 11 months

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄!

Pairing: Sub! Bottom! Bachira x Dom! Gn! Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Anal play, dildos, slight manipulation, reader is Gn but is implied to not have a penis, pet play, master/kitty kink, crying/begging

A/N: THIS IS A REPOST. my other got flagged super early on so I'm just testing to see if it will again. andddd dont be like Y/N kids, sex can come later, stay in school!!! focus on your studies!!!

Bachira has you wrapped around his pretty finger.

The both of you know it, and he seems to love how easily he gets what he wants. He knew exactly how you reacted to a smile, or how you would coddle him when tears flooded his eyes.

You didn't mind listening to him, he was adorable and always so sweet to you. But he is so incredibly needy. Its like he wants your attention to be on him 24/7. Its cute having him cling to you when you have free time, but when you are busy it gets rough.

It's not like he is a brat. He listens well, and would never dare to talk back to you. He just seems to have too much love to give. Wants more and more, and its always so hard to decline when he looks so adorable.

But tonight, you needed to work on your essay. It was due at 11:59, and you've barely touched it. You needed just a couple more hours, and then you should be good for the night. Then, you are free for the rest of week to relax.

“Meow…” A familiar high pitched voice chirps from behind you. He runs his hands down your chest, and places his head on your shoulder. He's wearing black fingless gloves with pink pawprints on them.

You know what he wants, from the way he drags his fingers along your body, to the way his voice seems to hold a slight purr. “Not now, Meguru. Can you wait till tomorrow?” You respond, eyes not leaving the screen, even if his hands get dangerously close to your crotch.

If you show that you are affected by him, you are done for. Somehow one way or another he will be getting fucked tonight.

You don't have time today. The two of you had sex the last three days, and you know he isnt pent up. He just always seems to crave more. He was a spoiled thing.

“Want you to fuck me,” he purrs into your ear, giggling lightly into your neck as if he was bashful about the lewd statement. As if he hasn't said way more dirty things the last couple of nights. He always was a talker.

“I know, I know. I gotta finish this, love. Maybe later if i'm not too tired.” You reach up and rub the back of his hair, sighing when you feel the kitten eared headband. You had to restrain yourself from checking if he was wearing lingerie too.

He must have knew you were busy, if he brought out the outfit. Probably thinking to himself, something along the lines of, desperate times calls for desperate measures.

He whines, high pitched and needy. “Pretty please? We can go quickly! Promise!”

You sigh when you feel him pawing at the buttons of your pants. You grab his wrists, before he can manage to undo them, which causes another whine to tear through his lips. “It's never quick with you,” You remind, and he grins. He would go the entire night if you allowed him too.

He laughs before placing a kiss to your neck. Two now, and he's suckling, most likely trying to leave a hickey. You grip his hair and pull him away. You didn't need to go in public with one on your neck. “Cause you're so good at it. Make me feel so good, I don't want to ever stop. Cmon, lets do it….I can give you head if you want!”

You roll your eyes with a grin. “How tempting...”

His hands try to escape your grasp, eyes already widen at the idea. “Mhmm! Let you ride my f–”

You don't let them free, pinning them to your stomach. “If I didn't have to finish this.”

His head collapses on your shoulder and he lets out another dramatic whine. Then, he menevours himself from behind you, to on your lap. You raise your eyebrows at his attire. You were right, black lacey lingerie with hints of light pink. He is even wearing a black leather collar a pink ribbon on the front.

He grins at you when you take in his appearance and successfully tears his hands away from you. He grabs your wrist, and gently lays your hand on his clothed cock. You have to force yourself to look away at the lewd sight, you are trying your hardest to not fuck him tonight..

“Look! Cmon please look,” He begs, and you have to take a glance. Just a peak, for your sanity.

Resting in the black panties was his hard on, seeming to be leaking through the cloth. He kisses your neck again. “For you. All dressed up for you too. Do you want me to meow for you?”

The idea seems to make your head spin. Imaging on all fours while you pound into him. Would he moan, or would he really meow?

Then he grabs your other hand and places it on his hole, now plugged with a cat tail. His eyes bore into yours, and he's grinning, cheeks flushed. “Prepped too. You don't gotta worry bout it. I'm all ready for you. Please Master?”

You gulp when he begins to rock his hips into your hand. It sounds so appeasing to you. Maybe the two of you could get a round in…See his eyes roll back, and his mouth hang open. He always did have the prettiest face when he was lost in pleasure.

The computer screen darkens from the lack of use and your eyes flicker to it. Your assignment was more important. You could fuck all the time after you completed it. “Meguru,” You sigh, using your free hand to move the mouse so the computer does not fall asleep.

He continues to grind his clothed cock into your hand, letting out small whimpers. “Kitty~” He corrects, a small smile on his now pink face.

An idea pops into your head and you grin, maybe a bit maliciously. His eyes lighten up in return when he thinks you have agreed, and immediately presses his lips to yours. You let him for awhile, even going as far to help him grind on your hand.

When you pull away, his eyes are already half-lidded, and he seems to be almost buzzing in excitement. It almost makes you feel bad, but alas, this was important.. “’’m gonna grab the strap,” he murmurs, and quickly jumps off your lap. You watch the black tail swish at the movement.

But before he leaves you grab his wrist, and he turns to you, confused. “I'm going to pick what you will use,” You say smoothly, standing up from the chair and heading toward the bedroom.

His eyes lighten at this, shivering in excitement at the prospect of you choosing the largest one. Though, the idea of him not playing soccer tomorrow because of him being sore does not sound to appealing. But alas, he follows along with a hop in a step.“Of course, Master!”

You take a deep breathe when you hear him continue the title, but you try to ignore the words. You grab the toybox, and Bachira is clinging to you, looking over your shoulder in excitement. “The big red one! No wait, what about the vibrating one? You know how it leaves my legs shaking. Oh choose, please choose one!”

You ignore the rambling in your ear and continue your searching. When you finally grab it, Bachira hums in question, “The suction one? Where will we do it then? Oh don't tell me you want me to ride it on your desk, you pervert Master!” He says, lightly hitting your shoulder, but almost drooling at the idea.

You ignore him again, and shut the box. He is gripping onto your arm, rubbing his cheek on your body from excitement.

When you walk out to the office he runs over to desk and bends over, his tail on display. “Take it out,” He purrs, shaking his ass in front of you, causing you to raise you eyebrows. “Want your cock now, please?”

You sigh and walk over to him. He presses his hips into your crotch and by now, you're not even suprised by the display. He always was like this, gave no shame on what we wanted.

You grab at his waist, and gently run your fingers over the flesh. He hums, and continues to press back into you. You reach down and slowly pull out the plug, and he keens. His cheek is pressed up to the desk and he is groaning into wood at the stretch.

“There is goes. Good job,” You praise, not being able to help yourself. The plug was larger than expected, and it made it much harder for you to really focus on your work. He seems to feel the strain too, his hands gripping onto the mouse with a small whimper when the thickest part meets his ring.

When it finally is out, he sighs, “Where do ya want me?” before turning to you with a cat like grin.

You trace his jaw, and he leans into the touch. “Stay there for a second,” You whisper, and gently use your fingers to turn his head away. He nods immediately and buries his face into his arms, excited for what you have planned for him.

You glance at him, nearly bouncing in excitement, and then your half finished essay. Then, you sigh, and grab the suction dildo, and stick it to the floor next to your chair. It was a couple feet away so he can have room. With this, he can have his fun, and you can finish your essay.

But of course you should have known it wouldn't have worked. He craved attention and you were way too easily convinced.

When he turns around his smile falls immediately. “What's that?” He says, pointing to the dildo on the floor. He reaches for your hand for comfort, but you've already turned away.

You sit back on you chair, and turn your computer back on. “Knock yourself out. I need to finish this, but don't want you to get frustrated.”

He shakes his head at first, eyes switching back and forth from you and the floor. The two black knee pads placed next to it, lets him know immediately what you have planned for him. Him and him alone.

In one last attempt, he drops to his knees in front of you, and you raise your eyebrows. He places himself in between your legs and rests his head on your inner thigh. Then, he grabs your hand and places it on his head, pleading for you to pet him. “Please don't be mean, Master! I dressed up for you. I-I wanna be your kitty.”

Your eyes barely flicker to him, and he rubs his face on your thigh to hopefully get more attention. He whines when you don't react, loud and dramatic. “Meguru, I love you, but I need to finish this. Your toy is right there.” Your voice is flat, and your hand doesn't move.

“B-But I–Please?”

You grip at his hair, sending his head backward with a wince. His neck is exposed to you, and he looks up at you with half closed eyes. “You will either fuck the toy or nothing at all.”

The two of you stare at one another for a long second, before he seems to cave in on himself from the harshness of the glare. “Okay…” He half whimpers, hoping to pull some guilt out of you.

When you don't say anything in response, he pouts and crawls over toward the dildo. It was simple, black and not too big. But you werent the one fucking him, so it wouldnt feel as good. He puts on the kneepads so that they don't get bruised from the hardwood floor.

He glances back to you. “I'm going to fuck it now.”

“Mhm’kay”

He clentches his fists and glares at the back of your neck, but positions the silicon cock in between his legs. He looks at his paw print gloves and has to bite back another whine, thinking about how this should have gone.

But, he grabs the dildo, and positions it up to his hole, and slowly begins to sink down on it. A quivered breath escapes his lips, as he tries to grip at the ground in front of him to no avail. It was harder to do by himself, usually you have to guide him through it.

“Help?” He pleads, loud and whiny.

You don't even look at him. “You've taken something bigger than that. You're being whiny Meguru.”

Kitty. He was supposed to be your pretty kitty for the night. How did he end up on the floor, fucking a toy with no help. And why are you being so mean?

He bottoms out after a couple more seconds, and he gasps, leaning forward to brace himself on his fore arms. He shivers, and he can't help the small smile pulls at his lips, while his eyes slightly roll back. “It's in.”

You can't help but wonder, his gasps behind you are intriguing you. He usually was collapsing on to you when you stretch him out, in all honesty him doing this by himself was impressive. “Whole thing?”

“Mhmm” He starts rolling his hips, his cock beginning to leak at the needed intrusion. The second be bottomed out, he felt like some sort of rational part of him was put to rest. Now, he can simply focus on losing himself on the toy.

“Good job, kitty.” He preens at the praise, and he focuses his gaze on you, hoping you've turned around by now. His smile drops when he hears the clicking of the keyboard and the back of your head.

It was upsetting him, and he could feel the pain in the chest from the lack of your attention. He was doing this all for you, why can't you just look at him? He ignores the tears starting to form in frustration.

Instead, he moves his hips, slightly pushing himself upward and then back down. A soft moan escapes him and his cock twitches.

This time, he uses the his knees to push himself to the tip of the toy, and uses his entire weight to sit back down completely on it. His fingers curl and his back arches, while his mouth seems to hang open at the force.

You hear a loud slapping sound, followed by a high pitched moan, way louder than before.The finger on your mouse pauses at the sound, and when he recollects himself, his eyes seem to focus in on the singular finger.

In an instant, he knows exactly on how to get your attention again.

He resettles himself on the floor, and changes position. He begins to pick up the pace, rolling his hips desperately, causing his dick to slap upon his stomach. “F-Fuck master!”

Your heart hammers in your chest and you try to keep your focus on the screen. You gulp when you hear the moans get higher in pitched, and try to ignore the slapping sound of skin on skin.

He goes back to bouncing on the silicon cock, and uses one hand to reach forward to stroke his cock. His face is already flushed from the movements, and his eyes are half lidded, but all he does is stare at the back of your neck. “My cock…Feels good!”

Your eyes snap to his in an instant, and he seems to light up at the new found attention. Unexpected, but not unwelcomed. “I didn't say you could touch yourself, Meguru.”

He laughs in between pants, slightly shivering under your gaze. “C-Can't help it. Need it. S’good.”

Even at the warning, his hand doesnt seem to stop its motions, sliding up and down the shaft, while he continues to jump on the toy. Tears begin to brim at his eyes, and his mouth seems to hang open with time. The moans have grown less dramatized for attention, but still are loud as they usually are. He was truly losing himself on the toy.

You just sigh, and turn back around. You are given him what we wants by getting upset at him. And it may go by quicker if he touched himself, then you can focus with no interruptions.

When he sees you turn back around again, he tumbles forward toward you. Tears begin to fall down his cheek, and the dildo slips out from the movement. He was so close. You were so close to helping him. He needed your help.

He murmurs a whiny curse under his breathe, and turns back toward it. His brain is fuzzy, and the only thing he seems to want in this very moment was to cum, from you.

He pouts, and whimpers, but he sits back on it, and his eyes roll back with a sigh. And just like before he begins grinding on the toy, but this time he isn't moaning, it's full on whines and whimpers. “Please. Please help. Im trying to be good. Please, I can't without you.”

He bites his lip so it doesnt tremble, and he watches the precum drip out of his cock and onto the floor. His dick looks so useless in this moment, it was almost humiliating. He wishes you were looking at him, to tease him for how leaky he was. To praise him for how good he was doing.

With every bounce he whimpers your name.

“Meguru,” You sigh, “You're so needy.”

He hears the chair squeak, and you stand up. Tears stream down his face, but he's smiling as you walk over to him. He slows his movements when you crouch down in front of him. The two of you are now on eye level and he stares at you with glazed eyes and shaky legs.

You run your fingers down his jaw, and to his lips, gently telling him to release the poor bitten pink flesh. “What am I going to do with you, kitty?”

He sobs at the condescending words and collapses into you, the toy still lodged between his legs. “Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Wanna–I want it!” He says, buring his flushed face into your neck.

You pull him back again by his hair, similar to earlier, and you swear you heard a moan. “No. You can cum from that. I know you can. I'll be here to watch.”

He frowns again, obviously not liking this answer, but too fucked out to really do anything. Besides, at this point he will take anything from you.

So, he just grabs onto shoulders and uses them as leverage for his movements.

His mouth now hangs open, and he's staring at you the entire time, while you coo and run you fingers through his hair. “Look how cute you are. Such a pretty kitty.”

Those were the words he craved, needed. He nods helplessly and giggles breathlessly , trying to put on the role he planned on even with his fucked out brain. “M-Meow!”

You grin at the sound, kissing his neck as he keens at the feeling. His legs are shaking and with everybounce you can hear the lewd slapping noise of skin upon hardwood. He's drooling ever so slightly, and he staring at you with hearts in his eyes.

His moans begin to get higher and pitch, and his hands seem to tighten on your shoulder. You know the signs by heart now, you've seen it so many times. “Need to cum?”

“Yes! Close! I’m–Can I please?” You glance at the cute puddle on pre beginning to form beneath him and kiss his cheek.

“Sure. You can cum,” You whisper into his ear, and pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around the back of you neck for stability. With every breathe a high pitched moan is released, and sweet the sound turns you on immensely,

He nuzzles his tear-streaken face into your shoulder and mumbles, “For you,” on repeat and you smile in his hold.

“Yeah kitty, cum for me.”

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, I cant–Im cumming!” He grips onto you tighter when he feels the wave crash over him. His whole body jerks, and he shuts his eyes adorably tight. You grin when you see his legs tremble and feet curl from under the pawprint socks. His fuming cock leaks out a coupious amount of liquid onto the floor, making the puddle even bigger now.

He holds onto you, even after his orgasm tears through him, almost seeming to purr when you run your fingers through his hair. He nuzzles into your embrace, and slides himself off the toy. “Mhmmm. Felt good,” he mumbles into your neck.

“Good. Cmon, let's clean you up and run you a bath so that I can finish my essay.”

He begins to litter kisses up your neck, and you sigh, knowing something is about to come. “Actually I was thinking bout round two.”

You shake your head, and rub the bridge of you nose. “I've never met anyone as needy as you.”

He laughs, a little breathlessly and dazed from the after effects of the orgasm. “I'm glad. I can have you all to myself.”

And even with his now trembling legs, he manages to pull the both of you up, and drag you toward the bedroom. He pushes you down on the bed and races toward the toy box before you could even protest.

When he comes back with the toy in his hands, he has a glint in his eyes. “I was thinking the vibrating one.”

You eye the now vibrating dildo, twice the size of the previous one. “You trying to not play soccer for a couple on days?”

He laughs, and dives onto the bed, already planning on what to say to keep you distracted from the essay.

In the end the assignment was turned in late, but you couldn't even be that mad, because your boyfriend is grinning lazily on the bed, hair messy, and legs shaking from the multiple rounds the two of you went at it.

He was such a pretty sight to behold.

411 notes · View notes

im-yn-suckers · 1 year

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ink

pairing-bf niki x gf reader

warnings-kisses, lotssssss, both of yall are soft asf, reader is up at 11 and niki gets home from dance practice at that time, crying, mention of snot, cuddles, mention of s*gag* sch*gag* school.*gag* not proofread bc im lAzy, lmk what i missed

why are you up at 11 with your computer on right in front of you? because of your fucking professor. yes, yesterday you had to miss class because you overslept. like its not your fault that school starts at 6 and they give you homework that takes you hours to do. anyway, according to your friends, you had an essay due tomorrow so you only had one day to work on it.

your pens and pencils were scattered all over the table. your notebook was open and your notes were written messily due to you being extremely tired. sticky notes on the edge of your laptop and notes.

dry tears stained your face and left a pink tint. your lips and mouth were sore from having them scrunched. your eyes were puffy, and your nose with snot coming out of it. you reached for your tissue, and placed it in the trash next to you, after cleaning your nose.

a minimum of 1,000 words for your essay, 100 done. stress was going in through the front door, sadness through the back and exhaustion through the windows.

you looked up to the ceiling to prevent crying, almost there. you can do it, you know you can. so why are you telling yourself you cant. it was dark out and you could barely see. 100 words, 10 tear stained tissues, and one coffee later, you took a two minute break. not enough. tears ran down your face while typing, your hands cramping and at the very moment you let out a sob-

-"Y/N!!! im home and i have some sna- baby, whats wrong?"- even though he was tired at this hour, he was always energized to see your face. he dropped the bags of snacks and drinks on the floor and went to hug you.

he saw your laptops screen, tissues, notes, pens and tear stained pages and started to peck your scalp.

-"its ok, my love. you'll be ok, i'm here. nothings going to happen"- he reassured you, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your forehead.

he closed your laptop notebook and pencil case, wiped your tears, and put it all in a pile to the side. he put the snacks and drinks on the table.

after a bit of eating, laughing and reassuring, you told him your essay was due tomorrow. he set your stuff up and told you to take deep breaths to calm down before starting again.

you had one paragraph left, you're almost there. you can do it. you set your hand on the table to look through your notes. niki grabbed a pen and your hand. he started to doodle some weird figures. little giggles escaping his lips. he switched the color to red, holding your hand down so you wont look

you wondered what he was doing. he smirked mischievously, put the pen back and laid his head on the table to avoid your eyes.

you looked at your hand and saw two stick figures in black ink. they were holding hands and had big smiles on their face. in red ink, there was a heart surrounded by 5 little ones. flowers in the background as well.

you looked over at niki who was looking at you. he blinked in awe and you finished your essay. you closed you laptop and put everything in your backpack. you walked over to your room while niki was getting ready to sleep.

you looked at your hand again and nik just stood at the door frame. you quickly finished getting ready and laid down. niki plopped himself on top of you playfully, filling your room with laughter.

-"i'm so proud of you baby. i love you"- he said, kissing your head

-"i know, i love you too"- he leaned forward and kissed you softly.

he held you close to him and kissed you passionately. he fell asleep after a few seconds and you looked at your hand once more. you kissed his nose and fell asleep on his arms

an: wow, its longer than usual. woohoo. slayyy fr. sunghoon drabble coming soon yall

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wonlovie · 9 months

Text

— LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU.

You were tired. Your boss of three years has been giving you a hard time, and school deadlines are creeping up. All you can think of are the things that need to be done. You need to work more hours. You need to make money to afford school. There is no time for rest because you could be doing something.

or, you're burnt out and all jay wants to do is take care of you.

— starring. boyfriend!jay x burnt-out!reader

— tags. established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, reader has a million things on their plate and doesn't know how to deal with it, depiction of a mild panic attack [crying, difficulty breathing]

— word count. 1.9k

— notes. i'm sorry that this isn't the heeseung fic but today was a rough day and this is pretty much just a vent/projection fic // this is also completely unedited but its currently 12:36am

Eye bags tugged at your skin like weights, urging you to close your eyes for even a moment. Your room was still, the darkness of the night overtaking the space. If your computer monitor didn’t display the time, 11:29 PM, you would have no idea how long you’d been sitting there. The curtains that adorned your window were drawn, the only light source being the small desk lamp Jay had given you for your birthday and your computer’s screen.

Your eyes burned as you typed, a lifeless gaze following the words on the document. Your hands felt ice cold, hours of typing causing your circulation to falter. The stiffness of your fingers made it hard to type, but you pushed on. After all, you couldn’t afford to stop. There was no time.

You were working on an essay that was due the next day. You had foolishly put it off for too long, instead working long hours to make up for the shifts you were missing to attend classes. You’d convinced yourself that you could finish it, that there was enough time, but suddenly there wasn’t.

The document page wasn’t even half full, despite you having been working at it for a few hours now. All you had typed was an admittedly messy intro paragraph and half of the first body paragraph. The cursor blinked, mocking you for your lack of progress. The blank space on the page upset you, angry tears filling your eyes as you clenched your jaw.

Before you could begin typing again, your phone buzzed. A part of you hoped that it was Jay. You weren’t sure if you could handle it being anyone else at this hour. But when you picked it up, to your dismay, it wasn’t Jay. Instead, it was your boss.

“I need you to work tomorrow. Lia called in sick.”

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and exhaustion as you simply typed an okay. You had class tomorrow morning, something that your boss was aware of. You made a note to ask a classmate for the notes.

Looking back at the half-empty document, you felt your chest tighten. Your throat felt uncomfortably dry as you swallowed harshly. Your fingers shook uncontrollably as you rested them on the keyboard in a futile attempt to start again. You had typed two words when someone knocked on your door, making you jump in surprise.

Frowning, you glanced at the time again. 11:42 PM. Before you could even wonder who it was, you heard the front door open. Your shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as you presumed it was Jay. After all, he was the only other one who had a key to your apartment.

You listened as he made his way through your house and toward your bedroom door, the sound of him kicking off his shoes and shucking off his jacket unmistakable. The tight feeling in your chest grew, rearing its ugly head at you as it screamed in your ears with a silent cry. The second your bedroom doorknob started turning, you felt like you had been punched in the throat.

Jay stepped into the room with a sleepy smile, his unstyled silver hair falling into his eyes. By his side, he had a convenience store bag filled with what you assumed were snacks. “Hey,” he whispered, not wanting to be too loud so late at night. “You told me you were working on an essay, so I came with snacks!” He grinned at you, holding up the bag proudly.

“I brought your favourite; those chips from when we went to the arcade. You know, it was stupidly hard to find them, and I had to go to like two different stores, but—” Jay stopped in his tracks, his face falling when he looked up from the bag and at you. “Are you crying?”

You blinked dumbly, quickly wiping at your cheeks. The sleeve of your sweater grew wet, surprising you. “I guess I am,” you murmured, voice wet and quivering. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I’m crying,” your voice cracked, and you choked out a sob that you didn’t know was holed up in your throat.

Jay was quick to drop the bag of snacks and rush over to where you sat, pulling you to your feet and into his arms. While his warmth and comforting touch were usually enough to comfort you, you couldn’t breathe as you felt sob after sob rack your body. He rubbed up and down the small of your back, stepping backwards until the backs of his legs hit your bed.

Slowly, he moved you into a sitting position, never once letting go of you as he sat next to you on the bed. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked in a small voice, his heart breaking at the sight of you like this. He didn’t ask again when you didn’t respond, rocking you back and forth against his chest. He pressed a tender kiss against your forehead when another particularly harsh cry escaped your lips.

You fisted the fabric of his shirt, wrinkling it in the process. In your haze, everything felt fuzzy. You couldn’t focus on anything except for the tightness in your chest and the pounding of your heart. You briefly thought back to the essay that sat unfinished at your desk and the text from your employer, the thoughts only making you cry harder.

Loud, heartbreaking weeps left your trembling body, and each second that passed felt worse than the last. Jay’s brows were stuck in a furrowed position, and the corners of his lips tugged into a deep frown. He hated how helpless he felt, having nothing to do except hold you.

He wasn’t sure how long you stayed like that together, with you in his arms, crying your heart out. It might’ve been ten minutes, it might have been an hour or two. It felt like your cries were neverending, but when they did start to slow, his heart was in his stomach. He hated seeing you like this. He knew how often you’d hide your true feelings behind a smile, always assuring him that you were okay, but he knew you better than that.

Once the sobs quieted down and you were left with only shaking breaths and wet eyes, Jay pulled away to see your face. His heart ached for you at the sight of your pain-stricken features and tear-stained cheeks. He pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe away your tears, although new ones were quick to trail down your irritated and raw skin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, just as gently. “Is it the essay?”

You shrugged, not trusting your voice as you avoided his eyes. He smoothed down your hair, cupping your face in his large hands in a silent plea for you to look at him. “Did something happen at work?” The pained look in your eyes let him know that he was getting closer, and his frown deepened. “Did your boss say something again?”

“Kind of,” you finally spoke, your voice just barely above a whisper. “He asked me to work tomorrow.”

Jay’s eyebrows knitted together. “You have class tomorrow.”

“I’ll have to skip,” you relented, gnawing at your bottom lip in anxiety. You started thinking of how much information you’d be missing, and you know that some of your professors like giving out surprise quizzes, and you could not get a zero for not attending. If you got a zero, if you failed, then what was the point of working so hard?

“Baby,” Jay mumbled, “Why don’t you tell your boss you can’t work?”

You shook your head, the thought of speaking up causing your throat to close. “I… I can’t do that, Jong. My boss always tells us that saying no to him is a sign of our disloyalty, and I’ve seen him fire someone who said no too many times. I can’t… I can’t get fired, I can’t lose this job. I need the money, Jay, I can’t…” You cut yourself off, your voice breaking.

Jay took your hands in his, rubbing the back of them gently with his thumbs. “There are other jobs, love. Other jobs with more understanding employers.”

Once again, you shook your head, fresh tears falling from your red eyes. “No, no, you don’t understand. This job pays really well, and the fact that I got hired in the first place was a fluke. Don’t you remember how hard it was for me to find a job before? How many… how many rejected interviews I’d gotten? I can’t quit.”

“But,” Jay interjected. “You’ve always told me how much stress you have working there. Your boss is unfair to you. He doesn’t give you breaks, and he asks you to come in too much. You’re a student too, love. I barely see you because you’re always either in class or at work. That’s not healthy.”

You looked into his eyes for the first time since he arrived in your room, the sight of his own watering eyes breaking your heart. “I can’t not work, Jong. That’s not an option. I need the money to pay for everything. I need money to pay for my tuition and for my books. And this apartment wasn’t given to me for free—I can’t just stop working, even if I wanted to.”

Jay pursed his lips. “Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded, a subtle jerk of your head that he barely caught.

“You have so much more support than you realize,” he rasped, holding onto your hands tighter as if it’d convey his message better. “Right now, if you were to stop working, you’d still be able to pay for the rest of the school year. You worked so tirelessly through the summer, and I know you have a lot saved up. You could take time off. Your parents could help with paying for school or rent—hell, I could help if you let me.

I know you’re scared and anxious, but please believe me. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you took a break. You need it, baby. Your life isn’t going to fall apart if you don’t have a job for a few months.” He let go of one of your hands to cup your cheek. “I love you so much. Seeing you like this is so painful, and all I want is for you to realize that it’s okay to just… do nothing. It is okay to not work. It’s okay to breathe.”

Your lips trembled, another sob threatening to rip out from your throat at his kind words, words that you didn’t know you needed to hear.

“I know I’m supported,” you whispered, holding the hand that cupped your face. “I know that, which is why I’m so frustrated with myself. I… I feel like if I’m not doing everything by myself and if I’m not working, then all I am is a failure.” You spat out the last few words, new tears filling your waterline.

Jay shook his head, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. “This world is harsh, and it pushes people to work beyond their limits. I wish things were different, but I can’t change how society views things.” He nudged his nose against yours, looking into your eyes with a look of what you could only describe as love. He offered you a gentle smile. “But what I can do is help you realize that. I just need you to let me in, yeah? You don’t need to be this stressed alone. I don’t want you to be alone.” He brushed away the wetness that remained on your cheeks before pressing a soft kiss against both cheeks, your nose, and finally, your forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured into your skin. “I love you, and you are worth so much more than you realize.”

#wonlovie #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #jay #jay scenarios #jay x reader #jay angst #enhypen angst #park jongseong #park jongseong scenarios #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong angst #jongseong #jongseong x reader #jongseong scenarios #jongseong angst

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drdemonprince · 20 days

Note

spiraling slightly about finally applying to grad school with a low gpa. I’m proud bc even getting to this point took a lot of work facing shame and I know my essay is strong but it might not even get read. I have an idea of what I’ll do if I don’t get in anywhere this first round but the whole thing is just so frustrating 😖 wish I could just pluck out the menty-b year from my transcript

Here's a little reassurance that's also very grounded in stastical reality and academic process, for what it's worth:

Depending on the graduate program, you're looking at about a 10% rate of acceptance on average. So receiving some rejections is normal -- it's typical to expect 90% of the schools you apply to to ultimately reject you. So if you get some rejection letters, know that it's not a reflection that you have failed, or that you're not graduate school material, it's a built-in part of the experience.

Additionally, *most* graduate programs have a GPA and standardized test score cut off, and all applications that fall below that cut-off are not even examined. For example, I applied to my undregrad alma mater, OSU, for graduate school, but my test scores were *one point below* the threshold they require, and so it didn't matter that I had been working for three years in two different social psychology labs for like 20 hours a week and had stellar recommendations from the school's own faculty. They didn't even look at that stuff. So, if you get some rejections, know that it's often nothing to do with your application materials at all. Yes this is fucked up. I think it's good to know that it's due to a built-in discrimination that THEY are doing, not anything you did.

Most people have to apply to multiple programs or apply multiple times over the course of a couple of years to find an acceptance at a school that is a good fit. It sounds like you have a back-up plan, which is definitely wise of you, but if you know in your heart that this is the path you want to pursue, don't let some rejections get you down on yourself. You can dust yourself off and apply again. I applied to I think 15? programs and got rejected by like 10 or 11 of them. That's par for the course.

The last thing I'll say is that graduate schools are exploitative, ableist environments that cause immense trauma to nearly every neurodivergent person who goes through them, so make sure you know what you are in for and have a really robust support system in place should you choose to pursue it.

It also *rarely* leads to any career prospects. To put it in perspective, blogging on tumblr helped my career more than 5 years of graduate study did. The blog The Professor is In by Karen Kelskey is a must read if you want a gut check for all the labor exploitation and poor preparation for the job market that happens in academia. you know your life, your values, and what excites and motivates you best, but graduate school is never an experience i proactively recommend to people.

ultimately i got very, very, very lucky as far as PhD's go, and even with that being the case in the end, graduate school still ruined my life and physical health.

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goldielia · 3 months

Text

when will met ally

a part of: call it what you want au

to say will is in a hurry would be an understatement. realizing at 6:30 pm that he had an essay due at midnight wasn’t his smartest move and he keeps thanking the universe for the afternoon practice today because if it had been scheduled for the evening he’d be screwed.

to make matters worse, the whole student body seems to have to finish schoolwork today because there’s not a single free spot in sight in the library.

he wants to cry when he finally sees a single open chair at a secluded table that’s almost fully surrounded by shelves. it’s a small table, barely big enough for two workspaces and one is occupied. it’s not his favourite but it’ll have to do.

the girl at the table only looks up from her laptop short enough for him to silently point to the chair next to her to ask if it was free and to nod her head in it’s direction to confirm he can sit down.

as soon as he has his laptop and notes set up he’s fully engrossed into his essay until he’s done to the point where he only has to write his conclusion and submit it. when he looks up for the first time to straighten his back and take a breath he notices that the library is pretty much empty, only a handful of students are still scattered around the tables.

it’s only then he really notices the girl he has been practically sitting shoulder to shoulder with at the small table. she hasn’t moved either, her warmth a steady presence against his left arm. before he can even take a good look at her, his eyes catch onto her laptop to see if she’s also been writing up a last minute essay or why else she’d still be in the library at 11 pm on a tuesday.

instead of notes or a word document he’s met with a picture of a dead body though. his eyes widen and even though he feels like he shouldn’t ever see things like that, he can’t quite take his eyes off of it.

“that’s the black dahlia” he hears to his left. finally taking a look at the girl, he sees a cute brunette with freckles all over her face. her green eyes are set on him with a slightly amused look, a sly smirk on her lips and her headphones now pushed down around her neck. he only manages to choke out a “what?”, his voice sounding rough because he hadn’t spoken in a while.

“black dahlia” she says, “her name was elizabeth short. she was murdered in january 1947 but nobody’s been able to solve the case so it’s gone cold.” he nods, clearing his throat to say “okay. are you, like, writing about her? or should i be concerned you’ve been looking at pictures of a dead body all night?”

she laughs quietly. “no, i’m all caught up on my classes. just can’t seem to stop thinking about what happened to her. what are you writing?” and then will remembers, he’s supposed to submit his essay in less than an hour and still has his conclusion to write.

“uh, can i postpone this conversation until i’ve actually finished it? i may have forgotten this was due at midnight” he admits with a lopsided grin. “sure, i’ll probably stay here anyways”.

after he sends her a grateful smile and she pulls her headphones back on to continue working, he turns back to his essay.

he tries to get back into his flow, he really does, but now that he’s taken a proper look at the girl next to him, he can’t help but hyperfocus on the way their shoulders brush when she uses the mousepad. his eyes can’t seem to stay on the words on his document either. he feels like they subconsciously draw to the pictures and articles on her screen or the way her blue nails click quietly on her keyboard.

after finishing his conclusion a torturing few minutes later, reading the whole thing one more time to make sure he’s not written total bullshit in his trance and submitting it with about 10 minutes to midnight, he turns back to her. the headphones now hanging around her neck permanently for some time - he’s obviously only noticed because he felt her arm moving, not at all because he’s been stealing glances at her.

“alright, i’m done. had to write about leadership in modern competitive environments” when she raises an eyebrow he adds “basically if you had to lead a team in any sport, would you focus on tradition or be okay with breaking some to make sure your team does better and like, the whole significance of tradition in modern sports since they’ve become so commercial.” she nods in understanding.

“how would you lead a team?” she asks, and he’s surprised to see genuine interest shining in her eyes. he subconsciously launches in a rant, it’s what happens whenever he talks about hockey. when he’s finished with his point he takes a breath and focuses his eyes back on her. she turned fully towards him somewhere during his talk, pulled a leg up on the chair to rest her chin on her knee. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t want to unpack that whole essay to you just now” he apologizes with a slight blush to his cheeks. “no, you’re okay. i like to hear people’s thoughts on things they’re passionate about.” save to say his blush did not disappear after that.

looking back into her eyes, he finds a mischievous glint, and when she quips “so hockey, huh?” is when it clicks in his brain. “wait, you’re our equipment girl, right?” “and you’re really good with people, apparently.”

“oh my god, i’m so sorry” he groans. “that’s okay, just don’t recognize the girl that tapes your stick whenever you’re late, no biggie” and he instantly feels bad because she had taped his hockey sticks multiple times and he didn’t even remember her name.

“i’m actually really sorry, you’ve been taping my sticks just how i like them but i can’t fucking remember your name.” she grins at that. “i’ve never actually told you, though” and relief washes over him. “so, could i maybe get your name now?” he asks, slightly nervous because he doesn’t feel like he’s made the best impression ever.

sitting silently next to her for hours before striking up a conversation about a dead body, all before shooting it down again because he forgot about his work. then as soon as he’s finished he rants to her and then tells her he doesn’t even remember her.

to his surprise though, she doesn’t miss a beat, answering “you’ll even get my number if you take me to get food right now”. he blinks once before he starts hurrying to pack his things, only stopping when she giggles behind him, when he turns around though she’s getting ready to leave just as quickly as him.

when he gets back to his dorm around 2 am it’s no surprise ryan’s fast asleep so when he quietly goes to brush his teeth and get ready for bed, he takes his time in front of the mirror to recap his evening.

they went to mcdonald’s, and he insisted on paying for her food because he still felt really, really bad about not remembering her. although she chirped at him because “you drove us here already” and “the driver never pays” and “i’m an independent woman, you know. let me pay for my share at least”.

they sat in his car in the mcdonald’s parking lot for a while, at first quietly eating their food. “my name’s alaska by the way.” she couldn’t help but laugh at him as he looked up at her mid-bite. he took his time chewing, looking out through the window and into the night. when his eyes settled back on hers, he answered “suits you” and the honest look in his eyes tugged on her heartstrings.

they talked about school some more, he found out she’s majoring in criminology - he still doesn’t know if that makes her more or less creepy than just looking at pictures of a dead body for fun. he’s decided though that he doesn’t give a fuck, she might be a little creepy but she listened to him rant and she has those pretty green eyes and she tapes his stick just right and that’s enough for will.

he took her back to her dorm, noticed it’s not far from his own and filed that information away in his brain for later. before she left the car he recited his number to her as she typed it in her phone before she grinned at him tiredly, leaned over the center console to hug him quickly before she hopped out of the car and headed to the front door.

he watched as she fumbled her keys out of her pocket, opened the door and waved at him before closing it.

as he just finds that comfortable position in his bed, his phone vibrates next to him.

from: unknown

spotify.com/podcasts/truecrimemysteries/theblackdahlia

unknown was changed to alaska

to: alaska

thank you, i’ll make sure to give it a listen

sleep well, see you soon?

from: alaska

i’m at that table nearly every day. also, you have practice tomorrow :)

good night, will

willsmith2 requested to follow you!

even though the vibrations were nearly silent, ryan grumbles in his bed across the room. “what’re you doin’ dude? ‘s too late” “finished that goddamn leadership essay and got food”

“you do know the essay is due tomorrow, right?”

alaska_argent accepted your follow request!

alaska_argent started following you!

#will smith hockey #will smith hockey x oc #will smith hockey imagine #will smith hockey x reader #alaska argent #goldie's call it what you want au

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dkfile · 2 years

Text

heartache and a latte

❛ it’s hard to tell someone you like them when you lose all self-control around them. like everything goes to auto-pilot. ❜

word count | 9.3k (9,296) genre | fluff, slice of life, strangers to lovers, coffee shop au ━ barista!woozi

you couldn’t help but notice that your spotify mutual woozi has been listening to some downright sad songs as of late, but as much as you want to reach out and console them, you have no way to, seeing as you don’t know who they are. however, fate might give you a chance when you realize that whatever song woozi is listening to is the same one playing whenever you’re in the coffee shop.

★ warnings | there’s nothing but fluff and meddling friends ★ author’s note | there is absolutely no heartache in this fic but im gonna be honest i couldn’t think of another title (read: i was too lazy to) but there is one mention of a latte so!!!

► woozi is currently listening to … Talking to the Moon, Bruno Mars 💿 Doo-Wops & Hooligans

According to Seungcheol, you are truly not Yoon Jeonghan’s friend until you become a victim of his notorious matchmaking. And unfortunately for Wonwoo, Jeonghan has declared him his number one target, and your poor best friend has been going on bad date after bad date for the past month.

Wonwoo collapses into the seat across from you, the heavy breaths falling from his lips fog up his glasses and it only takes him three more heaves before he takes them off and throws them onto the table, caring very little for the way they almost clatter onto the floor. You raise an eyebrow at him, trying your best not to show your amusement, before humming.

“Why are you so upset?”

He throws you a look, clearly not happy with your sarcasm, and throws his hands up in the air in frustration. Yesterday he made the mistake of telling Jeonghan he has little to no assignments due this week, which Jeonghan took as an invitation to schedule more dates — whilst Seungcheol was shaking with laughter, Wonwoo looked like he wanted to jump out a window.

“I can’t believe I have to live like this,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “God, I knew Jeonghan was persistent, but I didn’t know it was like this.”

You hum. “That’s Jeonghan for you.”

“Whenever he texts me about a date I start to feel the walls closing in on me.”

You throw him a look. “You’re so overdramatic. I think Seungkwan’s starting to rub off on you.”

Wonwoo ignores your comment. “No, you don’t get it. Every week, I go on a date, it ends badly, Jeonghan reprimands me, then he sets me up on another one. It’s a never-ending cycle and I can’t take it anymore, Y/N. I can’t take it.”

“Then just lie to him. Tell him you’ve found the love of your life or something.”

“Jeonghan’s got the best bullshit detector I’ve ever seen. He would never believe me,” Wonwoo says. You think this might be the most annoyed Wonwoo’s ever been, which is astonishing, given the fact that just last week during movie night at your place, he witnessed Seungkwan and Mingyu’s atrocious reenactment of Titanic. They acted out every scene, word for word. For two hours.

You have videos to prove it.

“Well, then there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

He scowls. “Gee, thanks.”

You shrug, unbothered by his irritation. It will only take a couple of minutes before Wonwoo calms down and cracks open his laptop to watch Sims 4 let’s plays from the early 2010s, so you continue working on an essay for your Asian Civilization class. It’s due today and you didn’t start it until a few minutes ago but, in your defence, you’ve been swamped with other priorities (like rewatches of Love Island and The Bachelor), and at least you’re not doing it at 11 P.M.

You huff when a loud ding in your ear signals that your airpods are almost dead. Lazily, you search for the case at the bottom of your bag before taking the earbuds off and allowing them to charge. You go to pause your music too, just in case it continues playing — which has happened before. Once when you were in the library, the heavy metal Seungcheol added to the friend group’s collaborative study playlist conveniently started blasting the moment your airpods died, which was utterly humiliating. You haven’t stepped foot in the library since then.

A small sigh of relief escapes you when you see that the song’s paused, but then you glance to the side section of the Spotify screen and frown.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been mutuals with woozi or even who they are — which is strange since you only have about six followers, all of them being people in your small tight-knit group of friends — and you’ve never bothered to find out. But lately, woozi has been listening to a collection of rather depressing heartbreak songs, and you aren’t sure whether they’ve just been in a mood for the past three months or if they’re going through a bad breakup.

“What are you frowning at?” Wonwoo asks. Just like you predicted, he’s already opened up his laptop. He’s looking at you with a hint of curiosity, but you know that one little white lie and he’ll leave you alone.

“Just something for my assignment.”

Wonwoo nods before looking back down at his screen. You only stare at woozi’s icon — which is a Marvel superhero you can’t quite remember the name of — for a couple more seconds before going back to Google Docs.

No time to worry about someone you don’t know. You have an assignment to finish.

► woozi is currently listening to … Two Slow Dancers, Mitski 💿 Be the Cowboy

“Dude,” Soonyoung groans, throwing his body against the counter. Jihoon glances at him with mild exasperation, and although Soonyoung is far from finished wiping down the tables, he doesn’t bother to reprimand his friend for his laziness. “All you gotta do is talk to her.”

Jun, another one of Jihoon’s co-workers, purses his lips. He and Soonyoung have been exchanging relationship advice for the past twenty minutes. Jihoon, however, has chosen to stay quiet, but he doesn’t stray too far away because he still wants to be part of the conversation.

“It’s not as easy as you think,” Jun retorts, harshly wiping at a stain on the counter that’s been there for as long as Jihoon’s been employed. “Whenever I try to talk to her, my brain just stops working. I malfunction. Everything in me freezes. Plus, she’s, like, out of my league.”

“Well, I know that,” Soonyoung huffs, barely dodging the smack Jun reaches out to give him. “But you just need some practice. C’mon, practice on me.”

Jun sighs. For a moment, Jihoon thinks he’ll turn Soonyoung down, but then he steps back and clears his throat. For as long as Jihoon’s known him, Jun has never turned down an opportunity to perform.

“Hi,” Jun begins weakly. Soonyoung catches Jihoon’s eye over Jun’s shoulder and they both wince. “So, I was wondering—”

“Please stop.”

“What— But I barely started!”

“I already couldn’t stand it,” Soonyoung says. “Dude, you’ve got no game.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk—”

Jihoon purses his lips and moves to the side, deciding now is the best time to get away from this conversation. Before Soonyoung can even think about dragging Jihoon in, he’s already grabbing a cloth and going towards one of the empty tables. It’s been relatively slow today and he’s pretty sure he wiped this table an hour ago, but if cleaning is what will save him from Jun and Soonyoung’s argument then so be it.

College students are scattered all over the vicinity. It’s rather calm — save for behind the counter where his friends attempt to keep their voices low — but the tranquil atmosphere is broken momentarily when a boy storms in and makes his way to an occupied booth. Jihoon only stares at him with a frown for a couple more seconds before realizing that the person he’s sitting with is his friend — of course, how could he forget? You two have been coming into this coffee shop since the beginning of time.

Jihoon catches snippets of the conversation (something about bad dates and someone named Seungkwan? He swears that the name sounds familiar…) before he makes his way back to the counter. Jun and Soonyoung’s argument seems to have been resolved — record-breakingly quick, Jihoon adds — but he can tell Jun is still a little disgruntled. When one of Jihoon’s favourite songs comes on the speakers, the taller boy throws him a halfhearted glare and pouts.

“This is the last thing I needed to hear right now.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes because while he is in charge of the music they play in the shop, it’s not his fault that Spotify shuffle decided to play Two Slow Dancers. But because Jun’s day has already been bad enough, Jihoon decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. He slips into the back to retrieve his phone and scrolls through his playlists in hopes of finding something that will cheer his friend up.

But doing that is harder than expected and he ends up just putting a random Spotify-generated playlist on shuffle.

Party In The U.S.A comes on and in the booth across from Jeon Wonwoo, you jump at the sudden change in music. Your best friend is too immersed with whatever’s on his laptop to notice the sudden change in the atmosphere, but he seems to be the only one. Some of the customers jerk up in surprise while others raise their heads with furrowed eyebrows. Two employees, a boy with unruly platinum hair and a taller boy with brown hair falling into his eyes, simultaneously fall into laughter just as another one of their colleagues emerges from the back, sporting a hairdo that only comes from working an 8-hour shift.

You briefly meet the latter employee’s eyes. He smiles politely, as every worker would do, before turning to his friends.

Despite your airpods only being in the case for two minutes, you take them out anyway and put them on. You’ll let them charge once the song is over because there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to focus with Party In The U.S.A blasting. When you open Spotify again, you notice that the song woozi’s listening to has changed to the same one that’s playing in the coffee shop.

Weird. Your eyes narrow but you decide not to worry too much about it. You have bigger fish to fry.

Like this fucking essay.

You scowl as you open Google Docs up again.

► woozi is currently listening to … The Night We Met, Lord Huron 💿 Strange Trails

While you wouldn’t consider observance as something you excel at, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself oblivious. You can catch on to things without much help, so it’s embarrassing that it took you so long to figure out that the song woozi is always listening to is the same one that plays whenever you’re in the coffee shop.

You aren’t quite sure what to do after coming to this realization. It’s not like you could just run to the coffee shop and demand to meet woozi just so you can see if he’s OK.

Well. Maybe you could, considering you’re in the shop after running three minutes from Seungkwan and Mingyu’s apartment.

“Hi,” you exhale, your energy quickly running out as you lean against the front counter, ignoring the blond barista’s concerned expression.

“Hello,” the employee greets you. As your eyes scan the nametag pinned to his blue apron — Soonyoung, written messily with silver Sharpie — you briefly wonder if this boy could be your Spotify mutual. But he’s smiling at you with enough radiance to rival the sun, and he doesn’t give off the sad, broken, tortured vibe you always assumed woozi has.

You’re snapped out of your daze when the barista clears his throat. It’s then you realize that you haven’t been paying attention to anything he’s been saying. “What can I get for you today?”

“Right, um,” you trail off, wondering how to frame your question. It’s not like you thought about this on the run over, which you probably should have. It would make this interaction a lot less uncomfortable. “Sorry. I’m looking for someone.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rise. “Uh, OK. Are you one of Jun’s friends? Because his shift ended a few minutes ago—”

“Oh. No, I’m not here for Jun,” you say with a quick shake of your head. “I’m here for Woozi?”

Soonyoung blinks. “Who?”

“Um. Woozi.”

“Right. I don’t know who that is.”

Somewhat defeated, you inhale sharply and nod your head. “Oh, OK. I just… Sorry, this might sound weird, but I’m following Woozi on Spotify and they’ve just been listening to some… sad songs recently — actually, I’ve noticed they’ve been listening to them for a while and I realized that the song they’re listening to is always the same one that’s playing here and I just wanted to make sure they’re, like, OK? Or if heartbreakingly sad songs are something they just vibe with. So, um… Yeah. Sorry again.”

Throughout your entire ramble, Soonyoung stares at you blankly. You think you might have just humiliated yourself in the worst possible way before the barista breaks out into an incredulous grin. He lets out a loud cackle, catching the attention of some of the customers, before he’s shaking his head and gestures for you to wait.

“I’ll be right back,” he says in between laughs. You gawk at him as he stumbles out of sight.

You awkwardly stand at the front counter, wringing your hands as you wait for Soonyoung to reemerge. In your back pocket, your phone vibrates with what you assume are texts from your friends, probably asking if you’re coming back anytime soon. You had made a lame excuse of needing coffee before slipping out of the door, which you’re pretty sure they didn’t believe.

(“You need coffee?” Seungkwan had asked, bewildered. “It’s eight in the evening.”

Jeonghan looked at you as if you had something on your face. “Yeah, plus we have coffee here. Why would you run all the way over there to spend money on mediocre drinks? Be serious for a moment, Y/N.”)

Before you can pull out your phone and send a quick text to assure them you’ll be back, you hear loud protests and devious laughter before Soonyoung walks out, dragging someone behind him. The barista who seems to be working every time you’re here, his hair always dishevelled in one way or another, is grumbling beside his colleague, but when he sees you standing there, he masks his expression with a smile he reserves only for customers.

Soonyoung stops his friend from saying anything and pats him a little too roughly on the back. “So, I have some amazing news for you! This boy right here is Jihoon.”

Jihoon furrows his eyebrows, slightly confused with the introduction. “Soonyoung, what are you—?”

“But,” Soonyoung continues, ignoring Jihoon’s confusion, “you might know him as Woozi.”

► woozi is currently listening to … You’re Somebody Else, flora cash 💿 Baby, It’s Okay

When Soonyoung rushes into the back room — startling Jihoon as he tries to savour every last minute of his break —and says something along the lines of, “Dude, guess what? I just found the love of your life,” Jihoon doesn’t know what to expect as his best friend dragged him to the front, but one thing’s for sure: he does not expect this.

Soonyoung, who annoyingly assures Jihoon that it’ll be fine if he goes over break, ushers the two of you to one of the booths in the back so you could, as Soonyoung put it, “Enjoy some time together!” which both you and Jihoon found off-putting seeing as he says it with a conspiratorial smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.

Now, Jihoon sits in a booth across from someone he’s never spoken a word to before other than, “What can I get for you today?” and “Your total is…”

“So…” you begin, “this is awkward.”

Jihoon, who was previously playing with the napkin dispenser to avoid eye contact, surprises himself by laughing at your comment. He hastily builds up the courage to apologize and explain that he didn’t mean to laugh at you, but when he meets your eyes, you’ve broken out into a cautious half-smile. The tense atmosphere shatters as soon as the chuckle falls from his lips and now both of you feel like you can relax, which he’s extremely thankful for; he’s completely unaware of what to do in a situation such as this. It’s not like he knows anybody who has had a Spotify mutual try to reach out to them because they’re concerned about them.

The fact that you did, though, is oddly heartwarming.

After a beat, Jihoon says, “There’s really nothing to worry about— with my music taste, I mean. I’m not going through a bad breakup or anything, but it’s nice of you to reach out and check if I’m good. No one’s ever done that for me before.”

Your smile grows sheepish. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before.”

Jihoon smiles back. “Guess that makes me extra special then.”

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from continuing to grin like an idiot. “So you just listen to all this sappy stuff because you like it?”

“I mean… yeah. That’s why people listen to music.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Do you not like upbeat stuff?”

“‘Course I do,” Jihoon shrugs and relaxes against the back of the seat. Out of his line of sight, Soonyoung watches his friend’s interaction with sharp eyes. He’s almost buzzing at the thought of telling Jun all about this later. “But I listen to slower songs more. And I’m in charge of the music here, and a coffee shop isn’t exactly the perfect environment for EDM.”

Your eyes glimmer. “Well, you never know.”

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow. “Is that some sort of challenge?”

“No, actually,” you hum, drumming your fingers on the table. “But now that I think about it, it would be nice to play some less sad songs here.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Let me pick the music that you guys play.”

The proposal is so preposterous that Jihoon laughs. In all the years he’s worked in this quaint cafe, he has never let anyone touch the music station (read: the small table in the back where he keeps his phone that’s connected to the speakers) — it took two years before he let Soonyoung and Jun take the reins, and he only allows them to pick the songs when he isn’t working. Hell will freeze over before Jihoon puts something as important as this in the palms of some stranger.

“No way,” he scoffs.

“OK. Let me pick the music that plays while I’m here.”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Besides, I only work here part-time. What happens if you’re here and I’m not? There are holes in your plan.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Then I’ll come here when you have a shift.”

“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

You give a dismissive wave of your hand, ignoring the evident amusement on Jihoon’s face. “When do you work next?”

Jihoon searches your face for some sort of tell, anything that says that you’re bluffing. But there are no cracks in your posture, no signs that point to an act. He concludes that he just doesn’t know you well enough to figure out whether you’re lying or not, and decides — hopes — you probably won’t live up to your word.

So, Jihoon offers up the information. “Tomorrow at seven.”

“Opening shift?”

He shakes his head. “Closing. Seven P.M.”

You grin. “See you then, Woozi.”

► woozi is currently listening to … Love In The Dark, Adele 💿 25

Turns out, you were not bluffing.

You come into the coffee shop followed by two people Jihoon’s never seen you with before. A tall boy who trips the moment he steps inside and a blond who oozes confidence trail behind you, seemingly in their own little world when you arrive at the counter.

Behind Jihoon, Soonyoung and Jun start whispering to each other the moment they see you. He’s dreading the moment you leave and they bombard him with questions; Soonyoung and Jun love to tease their friends, and Jihoon doesn’t mind it as long as he isn’t on the receiving end of it.

You’re grinning at him like all the light in the world can’t rival the luminescence of your smile and he knows he’s doomed.

You pretend to study the menu before looking at him. “This is one of my favourite songs.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrow. “Me too,” he replies. Before you can say anything else, Jihoon continues, “Is there anything I can get for you today?”

Your friend — the shorter one who carries himself with an air of authority — pops out from behind you, giving Jihoon a polite smile. “Iced americano please.”

The taller boy adds, “And a blueberry scone for me.”

Jihoon’s eyes land back on you. “Oh, just a small latte will be fine,” you say, “as well as a different song.”

The blond beside you frowns. “I kind of like this song, though.”

Jihoon gives you a small victorious grin. “Well, if he likes it then I see no reason to change it. How would you like to pay?”

As you grumble under your breath and take out your card, momentarily occupied with the pin pad, Jihoon moves to the side to grab a scone. When he does this, Soonyoung gasps loudly behind him which is then followed by a loud exclamation, “Seungkwan!”

The blond brightens. Seungkwan and Soonyoung immediately fall into conversation before Seungkwan drags your other friend — Mingyu, Jihoon overhears — as well as Jun, leaving both of you alone. It’s only then that Jihoon remembers why the name Seungkwan is so familiar; a few months ago, Soonyoung wouldn’t stop complaining about how incompetent his group was in his Microbiology class, save for a younger boy named Seungkwan.

Jihoon clicks his tongue. Seems like he has more connections with you than he thought.

“So,” you say once you’ve made sure your payment has been approved, “are you gonna change the song?”

Jihoon looks at you over the display case of pastries. “No.”

“Thought so,” you sigh. “But I’m not going to give up, you know. I’m going to break you.”

Jihoon can’t help the smile that makes its way to his lips no matter how hard he tries to fight it. He’s usually good at keeping a poker face so he isn’t quite sure why he’s struggling so much. He brushes it off, deeming it a problem that’ll fix itself, and muses, “Is that so?”

“Mhm! I just need to find your soft spot, I’ll figure it out somehow, given that your friends seem to be friends with mine?” you falter, turning your head in the direction of Seungkwan, Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Jun, who all seem to be in a rather heated conversation about NASCAR. You glance back at Jihoon, clearly just as confused about the sudden friendship as he is. “Did you know they knew each other?”

“Soonyoung’s talked about Seungkwan before,” Jihoon explains as he puts Mingyu’s blueberry scone in a paper bag. “I never realized you knew him until now, though.”

“That’s so weird,” you say.

“You could say that.”

“Well, I could get something out of Soonyoung,” you declare as Jihoon turns to make your drinks since his other coworkers seem to have better things to do. Sometimes Jihoon thinks that he’s the only one around here who actually works. “Surely he knows how I can break down your walls and get you to trust me enough to pick a more lively song And if not,” you pause, “I could resort to blackmail.”

Jihoon throws you a look over his shoulder. “Blackmail?”

“Yes. There has to be an embarrassing picture of you on the internet somewhere.”

“You’ll be searching for years.”

Your mouth curls. “We’ll see about that! I’m good at investigating. I put Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes to shame.”

“You talk a big game for someone who took months to realize that the same song woozi listens to is the same one playing at the coffee shop.”

You scowl. “Oh, be quiet. That doesn’t count.”

Jihoon places both drinks on the pick-up counter, meeting your gaze with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Right,” he says softly. You’re leaning against the counter and you don’t realize he is too, the space between you two decreasing slowly before he backs away and taps the counter twice. “Order up!”

At the sound of his voice, Seungkwan and Mingyu look over to where you stand, slightly flustered, and reach over to grab their things. The two boys say a chaste goodbye — Mingyu says something about running late to a hangout with the rest of the friend group — but you stay frozen in place. You only move after two awkward beats, Seungkwan jabbing your side with his elbow and giving you an incredulous look.

“We gotta go otherwise Seungcheol’s going to kill us,” he says.

“Oh. Right,” you respond, gripping your to-go cup tightly. “Bye, guys!”

Your eyes linger on Jihoon, who only gives you a small smile before turning to clean something near the coffee machines. Seungkwan and Mingyu meet each other’s eyes over your head, mouthing comments you don’t bother to understand before Seungkwan jabs you again and gestures that it’s time to leave.

As soon as you’re out, Mingyu says, “Jihoon seems nice.”

There’s a mysterious lilt in his voice but you can’t quite figure out what he’s implying. “Yeah, he is.”

Once you arrive at Seungcheol’s apartment, Seungkwan whispers something to Jeonghan who, afterwards, throws you curious glances throughout the entire evening — which, of course, you don’t notice, too focussed on the horror movie playing on the TV.

Seungkwan has no idea where you got the idea that you were observant because you most definitely are not.

► woozi is currently listening to … Bored, Billie Eilish 💿 Bored

“How about an Ariana song?”

“No.”

“Not even six thirty? Come on, man.”

“Nope.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Jihoon shrugs, unaffected by your chastising as he makes paper cranes with the napkins. You conveniently got to the shop a few minutes before his break started — you also insisted that you didn’t even know he was working today, which he finds hard to believe — and he figured that his thirty minutes of freedom are better spent with you than in the back room on his phone.

You give up working on homework the moment Jihoon sits down, deeming the boy and his hesitant smile much more interesting than the project you need to finish for Statistics.

When he immediately shuts down your song suggestion, you drop the subject — something he doesn’t expect — and ask him about the classes he’s taking this semester. You suppose that if you’re going to be bothering him for as long as possible, you might as well try to get to know him, and once he starts talking about his music courses, your eyes soften at how excited he is.

He’s clearly passionate about it, and though you know next to nothing about music, you become entranced by the way he talks about it. His voice, which is usually gentle, becomes more animated and energetic. He leans forward when he explains the different types of mechanisms and productions, never breaking eye contact while his hands fly in the air as he makes different gestures.

You think you could listen to him talk about this forever without becoming sick of it.

You’re so captivated by the words falling from his lips that you don’t notice someone standing in front of your table, and neither does Jihoon until the figure clears his throat in an attempt to capture your attention.

Jeonghan stands nonchalantly, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants. His eyes flicker between you and Jihoon multiple times before they permanently settle on you, and he gives you a smile that creates an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but he beats you to it.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he chirps ominously. You eye him with suspicion but he doesn’t seem to care. “You weren’t answering your messages, but I figured you’d be here,” he raises an eyebrow, throwing Jihoon an indecipherable look, “you always seem to be here.”

You tap your fingers on the table impatiently. It’s not like it’s weird you’ve been spending a lot of time here — ever since freshman year, you and Wonwoo have been stopping by whenever you get the chance. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing,” he says dismissively. “Anyway, Seungkwan’s away game is starting in an hour and I just wanted to know if you’re gonna be carpooling with me and Cheol or if you’ll just go alone.”

You sniff, still trying to spot any questionable things in Jeonghan’s behaviour. “I’ll carpool. When were you guys planning on leaving?”

“In about fifteen minutes. My car’s parked out there, so I figured we could stay here and wait for Seungcheol.”

You glance at Jihoon. “Um, I guess—”

“Awesome!” Jeonghan exclaims and he slides into the spot beside Jihoon. You gape in horror, just as startled by your friend’s behaviour as Jihoon, and watch as Jeonghan sticks his hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Jeonghan.”

Jihoon hesitantly shakes his head. “I’m Jihoon.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Um…”

Jeonghan ignores Jihoon’s confusion and flashes a dazzling smile. “So, what were you guys talking about?”

For the last few minutes of Jihoon’s break, you’re surprised that the conversation flows smoothly. You don’t talk much, watching Jeonghan with fearful wariness as he asks Jihoon about giving him some guitar lessons, but just as you’re about to relax, Soonyoung calls Jihoon from the counter and asks him to come back.

He throws you a smile before he slips to the back to adjust his uniform. Once he’s out of sight, Jeonghan’s previous angelic expression disappears, and he fixes you with a look that is all too familiar. He’s plotting something and you aren’t sure whether you’re the victim or the accomplice.

“He seems nice,” he says with the same tone Mingyu used the other day. “How long have you known him?”

“Not that long? A few weeks maybe.”

“Nice,” Jeonghan nods. Then, he smacks you with a question that almost makes you spill your coffee. “Is he single?”

“Huh?”

“There’s someone in my Stats class that might like him,” he says smoothly.

“Who?”

“You don’t know them.”

“We’re in the same Statistics class, Jeonghan.”

“We are?” he says with feigned shock. At your unamused expression, his mouth curls into a smirk. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N, they’re nice. I think Jihoon would like them.”

A bothersome feeling spreads across your chest, and you have to do your best to ignore it. If Jeonghan notices you squirming, he doesn’t say anything about it. “I thought you were fixing Wonwoo up with someone,” you protest quietly, “And I don’t think Jihoon would like it if you started meddling with his love life.”

“I think Wonwoo’s tired of all the matchmaking.”

“He never actually liked it.”

“That’s also true,” Jeonghan agrees. “But you never answered my question. Is Jihoon single?”

“I don’t know,” you respond. “It’s not something we’ve talked about.”

There’s a spark in Jeonghan’s eyes that you’re sure means anything but good. Before you can ask him if there’s something else he’s not telling you, Seungcheol enters the shop, lingering in the entrance as he shouts at the two of you to hurry up.

Jeonghan follows Seungcheol out the door and you trail closely behind. Before you’re out, though, Jihoon taps your shoulder and places a small cup in your hand.

His sheepish smile causes you to soften, and you think you might collapse into mush when he says, “Just something for the road. On the house.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you expected, “Thank you.”

He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Your heartbeat quickens and you scurry out of the coffee shop before the stuttering of your chest becomes too unbearable.

► woozi is currently listening to … If By Chance, Ruth B. 💿 Safe Haven

You might have to revoke Wonwoo’s best friend card.

Jeonghan has finally decided to free Wonwoo from his Cupid shenanigans and to celebrate his freedom, Wonwoo has been taking every chance he gets to poke fun at you because as it turns out, you are the new recipient of Jeonghan’s tenacious matchmaking. And Wonwoo makes sure you never forget — he has hourly reminders to text you about eligible bachelors on campus. You’re very close to blocking him.

You enter the coffee shop with a huff. All of your friends have classes at noon on Fridays so you’re savouring this free time as much as you can. You’re looking for a place to sit when your eyes land on Jihoon sitting in a booth that’s almost out of sight — the same booth where the two of you had your first conversation.

He doesn’t see you coming until you settle across from him. You notice the papers littered over the table and the open laptop, and you immediately jump to apologize for disrupting him but he shakes his head and beams.

“You’re not supposed to be working today,” you say because a few days ago he sacrificed his work schedule after you persistently continued to bother him about it. You have it screenshotted on your phone.

“I’m not,” he replies.

“So even when you’re not working you hang out here?”

“Don’t judge me,” Jihoon scoffs. “Might I remind you that you have no life outside of school and this coffee shop?”

You almost grumble that you only ever come here when he’s working — except for today — but you stop yourself. “What are you working on?”

“I’m just adding the finishing touches to this song I composed for class,” he says with a clipped tone. His demeanour shifts from relaxed to defensive and you frown as he brings his notebook closer to his figure before eventually dropping it into his backpack.

You scan his face, unsure of what it is you’re searching for, before slumping back and deciding to let it go. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to see his work, which is understandable.

You try to ignore the dull sting. “And it sounds alright?”

“I hope so,” he hums. “What are you doing here?”

“Avoiding,” you mutter, sliding further down the seat as if you’re hiding from something. Which — well, you are. If your friends go searching for you, this is the first place they’ll stop by, and in hindsight, you probably should’ve gone somewhere else to avoid Jeonghan, but this cafe has a certain aura that draws you toward it. It engulfs you with so much warmth until you’re hot to the touch.

Jihoon’s interest peaks at the sound of your annoyance. “Avoiding what?”

“Jeonghan,” you sniff. “He’s been trying to set me up on dates. Do you know that guy Ian? Frat boy from Alpha Beta Something.”

Jihoon straightens in his chair and nods stiffly. He has nothing against Ian, he met him once through Soonyoung, and he seems like a nice enough guy, but the mention of you and him going on a date floods Jihoon with enough dread to make him go frigid.

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m going out with him tonight,” you glower at the table. “And I’m sure Ian’s nice or whatever, but I don’t want to go on a date with him. Aren’t you supposed to go on a date with someone because you want to?”

The vehemence dripping from your words causes Jihoon to relax a little. “So why don’t you just not go?”

“It’s not that simple,” you sigh. “If I don’t go then Jeonghan will ask me why and when I give him an excuse he’ll just go, ‘Well, I think you’re lying, Y/N. Give me the real reason,’ and I won’t be able to give him the real reason because…”

Jihoon blinks. “Because…?”

You let out a harsh breath. “It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“It kind of is,” you scoff incredulously, almost as if you’re astonished by your own idiocy. “Have you ever had a crush on someone? The kind of crush that just hits you out of nowhere and overwhelms you with so many feelings that sometimes you find it difficult to breathe?”

What you’re describing should sound outlandish — it’s the type of emotion Jihoon sees in early 2010 sitcoms. It’s suffocating and refreshing all at the same time, and it’s hard to tell if it’s just intense infatuation or real, true feelings because they come all at once. It’s a tsunami of butterflies and racing heartbeats and Jihoon used to think it was completely unrealistic.

But he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

He nods in affirmation and that’s all you need to continue talking.

“Well, if I tell Jeonghan about this, all he would do is push me to confess when I don’t want to. At least not yet, because it’s hard to tell someone you like them when you lose all self-control when you’re around them. Like everything goes to auto-pilot.”

Impulsively, Jihoon questions, “Who do you have these feelings for?”

“I—what?”

He realizes too late what he’s just asked and flushes bright red. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that—”

You choke out an, “It’s fine,” before clearing your throat and sloppily steering the topic of conversation to the new limited drink on the menu. It’s a boring topic to talk about, but Jihoon’s grateful for the change because he would rather forget the other conversation.

Who could you possibly like?

He doesn’t get a chance to ask you because you’re pulled away from him a few minutes later by a delighted Jeonghan who declares to the entire café that tonight you are going on a first date with someone who could potentially be the love of your life. Before the door closes behind you, you timidly wave to Jihoon and he returns the gesture, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest as you disappear.

He is unable to get out of his mind for the next two hours he spends at the coffee shop.

► woozi is currently listening to … august, Taylor Swift 💿 folklore

Unlike the majority of the population, Jihoon likes opening shifts.

He basks in the silence, enjoying the few hours he has in solitude before a customer comes in. Saturday mornings are the slowest of the week, so as Jihoon sluggishly turns the sign from Closed to Open, he’s happy. There will be little to no customers, so he’ll have peace for the next few hours before Jun comes barrelling in for his shift at eleven.

He grabs the stool from the back and places it behind the counter so he can sit while working on his music and simultaneously man the front. His hand works at a remarkable pace as he scribbles on the pages of his notebook, annotating the lyrics of the song he wrote on a whim last night — it might not be the best thing he’s ever written, but it’s quite good for a two A.M. creation.

He’s just about to work on the second verse when he hears the door swing open. He frowns after glancing at his watch, noting how early it is before he looks up and realizes it’s you. And once he shoves down the immediate joy, his confusion grows.

Why are you awake at nine A.M. on a Saturday?

But once you approach, Jihoon is given his answer. There are evident bags under your eyes and your movements are lethargic; either you didn’t get much sleep or you didn’t sleep at all.

“Hi,” you murmur. You tug at the sleeves of your sweater to assure they’re way past your fingertips before smiling lazily at Jihoon. “Working hard?”

He ignores your question. “Why are you here?”

You falter at the unintentional rigour in his voice. “Oh. Well, I remembered you have a shift today, so…”

“You could’ve come later, though,” he tuts with a shake of his head. “Did you even sleep?”

“A bit.”

“Clearly not enough,” he muses.

“Is it that obvious?”

He fiddles with his pen as he scans your face. “Only a little,” he confirms, “nothing some coffee won’t fix.”

You quickly shove your hands into your pockets, searching for something that isn’t there. “Maybe next time. I didn’t bring any money.”

He dismisses you with a simple wave. “No, it’s fine,” he assures you. He’s halfway towards the coffee machine when another wave of perplexity hits him. “Wait, you don’t have money? Why did you come here then?”

You give him a look. “I told you already. I remembered that you had a shift.”

“So you came here to…?”

“See you.”

Jihoon ignores the relentless thumps against his chest. “Without cash?”

“Without cash,” you repeat.

He carefully slides the cup of coffee towards you, studying your every move. Despite your voice being louder than the music playing through the speakers, Jihoon still manages to tune you out. He follows your sloth-like movements, the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment too long, and wonders what you could have possibly done last night to warrant such exhaustion.

Then, he remembers.

“How was your date?”

Either you do a brilliant job of hiding your surprise at being asked such a sudden question, or you knew this was coming.

“It was OK.”

And that’s all you say.

Jihoon frowns. “What did you guys do?”

“Dinner and a movie,” you say monotonously. “Sounds exhilarating, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

“I am,” you sigh. “Ian’s a nice person, I guess, but I don’t think there’ll be another date.”

Jihoon puts up a facade of nonchalance when he asks, “And what about that person you were talking about yesterday?” Out of the corner of his eye, you stiffen. “How are things going with them?”

A beat that drags on for too long. Then — “Good. Things could be better but,” you explain, tugging your ear, “I’m taking what I can get.”

“That’s good.”

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “Mhm.” Then you change the subject after glancing down at his songwriting book. “Is this a new song?”

He nods. “Yeah, I wrote it last night.”

“What’s it about?”

“Oh,” Jihoon ducks his head to avoid eye contact. He thinks about the song he was working on the last time he saw you — he refrained from giving you a peek, afraid that once you scanned the lyrics you’d be able to see right through him. He’s poured his entire being into that song. Traces of his heart, soul, and feelings linger on each lyric, and yesterday, when you slid into the seat across from him, he was overcome with fear.

But then it dissipated into nothing the moment you said something along the lines of “I’m going on a date with Ian the Frat Boy from Alpha Beta Something, and he seems like a nice guy, but when has nice ever been enough?”

This time, a new song sits in front of him, just as heartfelt as the other, and he shows it to you with no hesitation.

You raise your eyebrows, not expecting Jihoon to be so willing to share, but you read his work nonetheless. As you read through, Jihoon sits uncomfortably on his chair, anxiously fidgeting with anything he can get his hands on. When he deems you’ve been quiet for too long, terror begins to creep its way back into the crevices of his brain but is quickly squashed down when you look up at him and smile.

He would do anything to have you look at him like that again.

“This is so good!” you praise, clapping your hands. “Once you record this you should play it here.”

Jihoon laughs. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, please,” you beg, sandwiching his hands in between yours. You clutch them in desperation and Jihoon’s heartbeat quickens dangerously. “For me.”

Something in his mind explodes when your eyes soften.

“Fine,” he grumbles but the grin plastered across his face is enough for you to determine that he is anything but annoyed at you.

► woozi is currently listening to … King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift 💿 reputation

A night of karaoke and Just Dance at Seungkwan’s has demanding consequences, so by the time you arrive back at Wonwoo’s apartment, you’re exhausted. He’s been kind enough to let you stay for the night, seeing as you’re too tired to get behind the wheel and drive ten minutes to your place. And also you’re convinced that his couch is a lot more comfortable than your cheap mattress.

Once you settle on the sofa, you scroll through the notifications on your phone. Seungcheol has wasted no time in embarrassing your entire friend group, tagging all of you in an Instagram story where everyone is shouting the lyrics to Toxic by Britney Spears. You scowl and send him a colourful message, begging him to delete the post.

You’re about to turn off your phone when you spot the red bubble hovering over the messages app, and your heart leaps to your throat when you realize Jihoon texted you hours ago.

He doesn’t say much. The first message is his work schedule for next week and the following is a picture of Jun spilling coffee on his apron. At midnight, just two hours ago, he sent you a goodnight text with the sparkly pink heart emoji.

It’s not much, you remind yourself, and yet you feel like you’re soaring. You’re certain the entire apartment building can feel your happiness through the walls.

You aren’t sure how long you stare at your phone. You’d probably be staring at it forever if Wonwoo hadn’t walked out of the bathroom, hair wet from his shower. He sends you a skeptical glance you completely miss before loudly clearing his throat. “What are you looking at?”

“TikToks,” you say. You’re quick on your feet, he’ll give you that, but he’s known you long enough to see through a lie.

“There’s no sound coming from your phone.”

“I’m reading the captions.”

“I don’t think staring intensely at the screen would be considered reading,” he states drily. He sits on the opposite end of the couch, sporting an authoritative expression that you know means nothing but bad for you. Wonwoo is always sputtering out words of wisdom, but they cut you deeper late at night when you’re vulnerable and your emotions are at an all-time high. “Are you texting Jihoon?”

You look at him like he’s grown another head. “Why would you immediately jump to that conclusion?”

“Something in your face changes when you talk to him. It’s very… what’s the word,” he smacks his lips together, glancing up towards the ceiling in thought. You aren’t sure if he’s actually searching for the correct term or if he’s just pausing for dramatic effect. “Ah — lovesick.”

“What?”

“It sounds about right, doesn’t it?”

“What the f—?”

“You know,” Wonwoo interrupts. He shuts down your protests, swatting your words away as if they’re as worthless as a bug. No refusal is stopping him from declaring his observations. At this hour, self-control has thrown itself out the window — exhaustion plagues him just as much as your naivety, “Jeonghan had this plan. Everyone knew about it. He was growing tired of you and Jihoon tiptoeing around each other so he figured that if he set you up on a date, it’d push one of you to confess. ‘Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder,’ he said, and he stuck by it even though I told him that isn’t the expression.”

You stare at him in shock. Surprise rattles your bones and yet all you manage to say is, “Why are you telling me this?”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Because it didn’t work, so I’m putting matters into my own hands,” he inhales. For a moment, you swear he’s about to say something meaningful and deep, but instead he grinds out a comment that drips with chagrin. “Jihoon like you, you idiot.”

Blinking, you retort, “How do you know that? You barely know him.”

“It’s extremely obvious. It surprises me that you haven’t noticed it,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “He looks at you like he’s at the Louvre staring at the Mona fucking Lisa. He’s in amazement every time he’s with you. How could you not notice that?” Before you can jump to deny Wonwoo’s remarks, he sighs, “I’m right about this, Y/N. Ask anyone. Text Soonyoung or Jun right now and they’ll tell you.”

Something flickers in your eyes. Uncertainty. Wonwoo deflates.

“Trust me. I mean, would I ever lie to you about something like this?”

He wouldn’t. Wonwoo never lies in the first place, and when he does it’s easy to tell.

You sigh. “You’re certain?”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow and squeezes your shoulder before standing up. He’s on his way to his bedroom when he says, “There’s no doubt about it.”

► woozi is currently listening to … The Only Exception, Paramore 💿 Brand New Eyes

Jihoon is running on little to no sleep.

He’s working the opening shift again, something his iPhone delightfully reminds him about at seven A.M., forcing him to ignore the painful crick in his neck he received from falling asleep face-down on his desk. His uniform isn’t even on properly — his light grey shirt, which is supposed to be tucked into his pants, hangs at mid-thigh, too big for his figure. He wonders if he somehow accidentally switched shirts with Jun.

His brain isn’t working, but he somehow manages to drag himself out of the house and walks the five-minute journey from his apartment to the coffee shop. Once he’s across the street, he digs through his bag to find the keys. The task takes him too long — and after two minutes he realizes that the keys were in his pocket the entire time.

God. He is never sleeping at four A.M. ever again.

When he reaches the shop, he expects it to be empty. They’re closed, after all, but a loiterer is sitting outside the locked door. Jihoon has to rub his eyes harshly in order to be completely sure that he isn’t seeing things.

You stand when you see Jihoon approach, nervous and jittery. He stops slowly, suspicion growing when you make no move to greet him. He spots the dark circles under your eyes immediately, but unlike him, energy courses through you. You’re rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet and shaking your hands in anticipation. For a moment, Jihoon thinks he imagined your signs of sleep deprivation.

“Um… We’re not open yet.”

“I know. I just needed to talk to you.”

“Now?” he asks incredulously. Not that he’s not happy to see you (he’s always happy to see you), he’s just surprised. He knows for a fact you don’t have any classes (while you studied his schedule, he studied yours) so he can’t come up with a reason why you’re here. “But it’s so early.”

You follow him into the shop once he’s unlocked the door. “It couldn’t wait.”

He gives you a confused look over his shoulder. “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, I… I was just told this crazy thing yesterday.”

That’s not what Jihoon thought you would say. “Uh… OK?” he questions, voice rising a pitch at his confusion. You find it charming, hence the small smile on your face, but the sight of it causes embarrassment to colour his cheeks. “That’s nice, I guess. What was it?”

You surprise both him and yourself when you blurt out, “Wonwoo told me you like me.”

“What?”

“He told me everyone knew,” you continue as Jihoon stammers. Panic flashes across his face and he searches his brain for believable excuses. Anything to dismiss the accusations. “And that all of our friends are, apparently, tired of us tiptoeing around each other. Jeonghan was scheming behind our backs, too.”

It seems the only words Jihoon can say are, “What?”

“He set me up on that date with Ian to make you jealous. Or to make me confess. I don’t know. The details are blurry,” you say. The roles have been reversed — Jihoon’s previous low-energy behaviour is replaced with your frantic one, while you seem to be a whole lot calmer now that you’ve gotten some things off your chest. “That’s not the point. The point is you like me.”

“Wha—?”

“I thought about it last night,” you explain. “I thought about everything. When I was here a few weeks ago, Soonyoung told me that you’re different around me. At first, I didn’t understand what he was getting at, but now I do, and it’s crazy that it took me so long because, now that I think about it, he was not subtle about it at all—”

“Y/N—”

“—and then I thought about your song. And, like, I don’t want to sound like a narcissistic asshole right now, but I… I think it’s about me, right?” Hope tints your words. “All those lyrics about someone unexpectedly coming into your life and spinning your world on its axis… I know I sound full of myself, but in my head, all of it makes sense. In my head, the puzzle pieces fit.”

The silence is deafening. And you aren’t very patient.

“So?”

Jihoon gulps. “So what?”

“Am I right?”

The hope radiating off of you somehow infects him. He is high on happiness and astonishment when he says, “Yes.”

The next few seconds are fuzzy, and Jihoon isn’t sure who initiates the kiss first. But that detail isn’t important to him — he’s too focused on the way you taste like orange juice and toothpaste and how your hands settle on his neck. The touch of your fingers against his skin sends jolts through his entire body. Caffeine couldn’t have woken him up like this.

When you pull away, you’re grinning. Jihoon is sure that the entire world just got brighter.

You surprise him again when you cheekily say, “Does this mean I get to pick the music that plays here now?”

Jihoon tilts his head back as his laughter bounces off the walls. He doesn’t think he’s smiled this wide in years. “Are you seriously asking me about this now?”

“Well, duh,” you’re playing with the hair at the back of his neck when you suggest, “I’m thinking we play Doja Cat. Something from Planet Her. Or maybe some overplayed pop song you always hear on the radio.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes playfully. “Fine.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he dusts off some lint on your shoulder when he adds, “I guess I gotta make exceptions for my girlfriend, right?”

► woozi is currently listening to … Kiss Me More (feat. SZA), Doja Cat 💿 Planet Her

“So you’re telling me that if I had just gotten you to fall in love with me, you would’ve given me permission to control the music?”

“What? Soonyoung, what are you talking about?”

“Let the man speak, Jihoon, he’s got a point.”

“No, Jun, he absolutely does not.”

“Aw, Soon, look. He’s blushing!”

“Dude, you’re so red. How whipped are you for Y/N? We only mentioned them once.”

“Please go back to work and leave me alone.”

#woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen #svt #lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #woozi scenarios #svt scenarios #woozi fluff #svt fluff #woozi imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #fic: heartache and a latte

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