#CRYING......heritage ask to ME

[rpfisfine]

hello ive just gotten into idat and boyboy and you seem to be the most active account i can find and i know this is a stupid question but i actually cant tell are they gay and in love or is it just a bit and they have wives or some shit😭😭😭😭

IM ACTAUULY DYING.....MY CHEST IS CAVING IN....... it's not a stupid question at all its sth that plagues and haunts pretty much everyone who has ever watched at least one single video by them and i think this comment on the "are we gay?" buzzfeed quiz video on patreon in particular rly sums it up:

but yeah jokes aside in all seriousness they aren't actually gay (sad.) and are a self-proclaimed pair of "average straight friends" or whatever who also happen to be housemates. but i am convinced they are in love tbh like i honestly dont think that part is a bit at all. also they said once that their relationship is like that of a "conservative straight couple, scared of having sex with each other". and they don't have wives and aren't really actually confirmed to be dating anyone either at least at the moment but some of us just kind of collectively assume that they both have girlfriends however the possibility of them being single is equally as likely. im so honored you chose to seek answers on my blog which is, yeah definitely the most active one to put it extremely mildly youre right. i hope this answers your question at least a little bit although to be fair it probably doesn't i'm sorry

[cranberrylane]

bought the first volume of the spy x family manga in my heritage language bc i have one (1) class in said language and have not used in it formal contexts for so long i feel like writing assignments in it will be scary & reading helps me the most so i'm starting with something light before i read Actual Texts 😭

[taroet-archive]

i'm thinking about my boy nathaniel winters a lot lately

[ilookattextile]

I got a job at a Ukrainian museum.

On the first day someone asks me if I have any Ukrainian heritage. I say I had ancestors from Odesa, but they were Jewish, so they weren’t considered Ukrainian, and they wouldn’t have considered themselves Ukrainian. My job is every day I go through boxes of Ukrainian textiles and I write a physical description, take measurements, take photographs, and upload everything into the database. I look up “Jewish” in the database and there is no result. 

Some objects have no context at all, some come with handwritten notes or related documents. I look at thick hand-spun, hand-woven linen heavy with embroidery. Embroidery they say can take a year or more. I think of someone dressed for a wedding in their best clothes they made with their own hands. Some shirts were donated with photographs of the original owners dressed in them, for a dance at the Ukrainian Labour Temple, in 1935. I handle the pieces carefully, looking at how they fit the men in the photos, and how they look almost a hundred years later packed in acid-free tissue. One of the men died a few years later, in the war. He was younger than I am now. The military archive has more photographs of him with his mother, his father, his fiancé. I take care in writing the catalogue entry, breathing in the history, getting tearful. 

I imagine people dressed in their best shirts at Easter, going around town in their best shirts burning the houses of Jews, in their best shirts, killing Jews. A shirt with dense embroidery all over the sleeves and chest has a note that says it is from Husiatyn. I look it up and find that it was largely a Jewish town, and Ukrainians lived in the outskirts. There is a fortress synagogue from the Renaissance period, now abandoned. 

When my partner Aaron visits I take him to an event at the museum where a man shows his collection of over fifty musical instruments from Ukraine, and he plays each one. Children are seated on the floor at the front. We’re standing in a corner, the room full of Ukrainians, very aware that we look like Jews, but not sure if anyone recognizes what that looks like anymore. Aaron gets emotional over a song played on the bandura. 

A note with a dress says it came from the Buchach region. I find a story of Jewish life in Buchach in the early twentieth century, preparing to flee as the Nazis take over. I cry over this.

I’m cataloguing a set of commemorative ribbons that were placed on the grave of a Ukrainian Nationalist leader, Yevhen Konovalets, after he was assassinated. The ribbons were collected and stored by another Nationalist, Andriy Melnyk, who took over leadership after Konovalets’ death. The ribbons are painted or embroidered with messages honouring the dead politician. I start to recognize the word for “leader”, the Cyrillic letters which make up the name of the colonel, the letters “OYH” which stand for Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN in English). The OUN played a big part in the Lviv pogroms in 1941, I learn. The Wikipedia article has a black and white image of a woman in her underwear, running in terror from a man and a young boy carrying a stick of wood. The woman’s face is dark, her nose may be bleeding. Her underwear is torn, her breast exposed. I’m measuring, photographing, recording the stains and loose threads in the banners that honour men who would have done this to me. 

Every day I can’t stop looking at my phone, looking up the news from Gaza, tapping through Instagram stories that show what the news won’t. Half my family won’t talk to the other half, after I share an article by a scholar of Holocaust and genocide studies, who says Israel is committing a genocide. My dad makes a comment that compares Gaza to the Warsaw Ghetto. This gets him in trouble. My aunt says I must have learned this antisemitism at university, but there is no excuse for my dad. 

This morning I see images from Israeli attacks in the West Bank, where they are not at war. There are naked bodies on the dusty ground. I’m not sure if they are alive. This is what I think of when I see the image from the Lviv pogrom. If what it means for Jews to be safe from oppression is to become the oppressor, I don’t want safety. I don’t want to speak about Jews as if we are one People, because I have so little in common with those in green uniforms and tanks. I am called a self-hating Jew but I think I am a self-reflecting Jew.

I don’t know how to articulate how it feels to be handling objects which remind me of Jewish traumas I inherited only from history classes and books. Textiles hold evidence of the bodies that made them and used them. I measure the waist of a skirt and notice that it is the same as my waist size. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Jewish homes during pogroms. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Palestinian homes during the ongoing Nakba. Clothes hold the shape of the body that once dressed in them. Sometimes there are tears, mends, stains. I am rummaging through personal belongings in my nitrile gloves. 

I am hands-on learning about the violence caused by Ukrainian Nationalism while more than nine thousand Palestinians have been killed by the State of Israel in three weeks, not to mention all those who have been killed in the last seventy-five years of occupation, in the name of the Jewish Nation, the Jewish People — me? If we (and I am hesitant to say “we”) learned anything from the centuries of being killed, it was how to kill. This should not have been the lesson learned. Zionism wants us to feel constantly like the victims, like we need to defend ourself, like violence is necessary, inevitable. I need community that believes in freedom for all, not just our own People. I need the half of my family who believes in this necessary “self-defence” to remember our history, and not just the one that ends happily ever after with the creation of the State of Israel. Genocide should not be this controversial. We should not be okay with this. 

Tomorrow I will go to work and keep cataloguing banners that honour the leader of an organization which led pogroms. I will keep checking the news, crying into my phone, coordinating with organizers about our next actions, grappling with how we can be a tiny part in ending this genocide that the world won’t acknowledge, out of guilt over the ones it ignored long ago. 

[lologoinsolo]

Hello :)

Just read your ‘unedited blurb’ about the fourth born princess married off to the illegitimate son Lord Riley… now I’m hungry for words. Please don’t let the starving children in Australia die.

It’s so cruel to taunt us with these tasty little snacks and no sustenance. Needs our meats and taters to fight off the drop bears.

x

Part 2 of this, slightly more edited drabble.

You’re a good wife. At least you believe so. You do your duties, you run the house well enough, you speak kindly to the servants and maids and butlers. You keep a smile on, a genuine smile towards everyone. You do tend to splurge on fresh flowers that you place in nearly every corner of the estate but that’s just to brighten up the old walls. You do your absolute best to be as prim and as proper as a wife of the Riley name should be.

But it’s… it’s just not enough.

“Good morning, husband,” you greet upon the top of your stairs, your hand on the rail as you make your way down. You have a hard time catching him long enough to speak to him. He really does live up to his nickname as The Ghost. “I’ve asked the maids to prepare… your…” the words you would’ve said dies when he turns from you. Didn’t even nod this time nor give you the dignity of a short conversation. You sigh, eyes closed before you roll your shoulders and head to the dining area.

Your breakfast sits for you waiting to be eaten and the servants stand at the ready to indulge any desire you might have. The chef here is exceptionally better than the one at the palace but at least that dining room had your sisters. The seats were always filled and the lighter was constant. Your eyes flicker to the doors, hoping against hope that today will be the day your husband eats with you. But alas, across the table sits an empty chair that’s hardly been sat on and food that is getting colder by the minute. Like always.

You eat in silence, striking conversations with the servants is a hard thing to do since they just nod away to what you’re saying. “My husband works too hard.” Speaking aloud but the servant that’s pours your drink merely winces, “please, send his food to his study.” Putting on a smile, this one genuine yet sadder. “Oh, and make sure to warm it for him before you send it.” Giving one last instruction as they go to take his food away.

After breakfast, you make your way to the garden’s greenhouse. It’s your little spot of sunshine that you’ve payed a keen eye to. You love your flowers, this place didn’t have much save for weeds. You’re hoping that once these bloom then you can put them in the house. The large greenhouse isn’t just for soon to be flowers but also where you’ll read. You’ve made a small library for yourself, just the books you took from your home at the palace. Even now, reading seems to be the only way for you to escape a loveless home.

“Mornin’, my lady!” The booming voice of your bodyguard jolts you from your seat and you almost throw your book. You still don’t know why you need one, you never leave the estate anyways. “I ken ye’d be ‘ere,” he smiles and it’s as warm as the sun, a hand settles on his hip as he leans closer to you. “Readin’ yer books again, my lady?”

“Johnny,” your hand over your chest, your heart might have jumped out. The book that was almost thrown sits on your lap now. “Yes,” catching your breath, “I am reading… again.” You’ve never seen a man dress like him when you were growing up. Sir— or just Johnny, as he had asked, is dressed in clothing that speaks of his proud heritage. The green and blue kilt, the leather, and the two sharp looking axes attached to his hips. The term, “Scottish warrior”, comes to mind. It’s something that you’ve heard your father speak about. Granted your father had nothing good to say about them. He never had anything good to say about anything in general actually.

“Yer makin’ me lazy, my lady.” He sighs like you’ve turned away a crying puppy.

“How am I doing that?” It’s refreshing in how he speaks to you. It should upset you that he’s so open with you but you’ll take what you can get. At least he tries to keep his manners, you’ve heard him curse only once but he promptly apologized for it. “If you are bored of your charge then perhaps you should ask Lord Riley to relieve you of me.” Turning your face a little, you go to pull your book out in front of you.

“Cannae do that,” puffing his chest out. Far too prideful to admit any sort of defeat, “ye ken there’s a library that yer husband puts donations to?” You quirk a brow at him, when did Lord Riley start doing that? He continues on, “it’s very big compared to yer lil greenhouse. It’s in town and there just happens to be a nice little bakery nearby.” Trying to sound as convincing as he can. He’s kept up with your routines and needless to say. He wants to get you out of the cage you’re squeezed in. Plus, a little birdie told him that you have a sweet tooth that’s almost as bad as Simon’s is.

Rubbing at your chin in thought, “okay…” placing your book down. No harm in getting out, you just hoped it would’ve been your husband that would’ve been the one to do so. A flitter of a fantasy that maybe he would’ve taken notice to you keeping to yourself here but… maybe he just has too many things to work on?

“Thank you, Princess,” smiling down at you once more. His hand outstretched for you to grab and you take it gladly. He pulls you out of your seat easily and takes a small step back so you can walk in front. His eyes have always been on you since you came in. Watching your graceful figure moves about the halls like a feather. He’d think you’re a swan with how you move, a pretty little thing that’s nestled in these cold walls. It cuts him deeper in the chest that any knife when he knows why your husband isn’t paying attention to you the way you deserve.

He’ll have to speak to Simon again, maybe get him to build you your own library in the estate. God knows it took some long and hard convincing to get the man to make donations to the towns library. It’s worth it to see how your eyes light up though. You flutter around and talk his ear off about all the books, talking more than he’s heard you speak since you’ve came about being Lady Riley. He swallows thickly when your back is turned once more to pile on another book to your growing collection.

He can’t keep doing this, not anymore. Not to you.

[lacamorte]

~ notice me

Where Shen Yuan managed to strike a perfect balance between caring teacher and strict, distant immortal, and Binghe grows into his demon heritage and acquires his harem, but has no interest in revenge and has no feelings for his former Shizun besides warm affection and kinship for one of his best friends. However, somewhere along the line, SQQ figures out that he has feelings for LBH, and kinda just resigns himself to his pining and tells no one. Instead, he writes an awful lot of poems and songs — pieces so beautiful that word of them reaches past Cang Qiong. Some say the songs were so lovely that they quelled even the worst qi deviations. Some say that an ordinary human couldn't withstand them without weeping inconsolably. Some even tell of cultivators visiting the mountain just to be graced by Shen Qingqiu's soulful melodies.

Eventually rumors of Qing Jing's lovelorn Peak Lord reach Binghe's ears. In true best friend fashion, he visits and makes SY breakfast and drags him out of bed to eat, before asking about the rumors.

SQQ looks at him quietly, before putting his head on the table and watching him silently. Binghe sees the melancholy in his eyes and assumes someone broke SQQ's heart. So he spends a lot of time trying to get a name, because gasp!!! Who dares break the Demon Emperor's best friend's heart? His gege is a catch, and he'd gouge out the eyes of anyone who dared to disagree. He asks Shang Qinghua, but even the squirrelly man refuses to tell him anything, insisting that it's not his secret to tell.

So LBH resolves to come back every day to badger SQQ (and feed him). SQQ stubbornly tells him nothing, of course.

Until one day, LBH is a little late for their little appointments and looks for SQQ. He finds him in the bamboo forest, seated on an elevated ledge overlooking the rest of the Peaks. He's playing a song, a guqin perched in his lap, delicate fingers strumming the strings as gently as one would skim the surface of water.

LBH doesn't realize he's crying until he tastes salt on his tongue.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

Interesting thread just popped up on r/AITAH

It reads:

AITA for causing a scene after a class discussion about Holocaust ended up with my son being bullied?

My son (11M) has always been proud of his Polish heritage. Were Polish-American, and weve taught him a lot about our familys history. His great grandfather fought in the Armia Krajowa (the Polish Home army), which was one of the largest underground resistance movements in Nazi occupied Europe. He was wounded during the Warsaw Uprising, an effort where thousands of Polish civilians and soldiers rose up against the Nazis. Unfortunately, he was eventually captured by the Nazis and sent to KZ Stutthof, a concentration camp. Despite the unimaginable horrors there, he survived and later came to USA to rebuild his life, though he never forgot what he fought for. Recently, my sons class had a lesson about World War II and the Holocaust. After school, he came home unusually quiet. When I asked what was wrong, he told me the teacher said Poland helped the Nazis carry out the Holocaust. Apparently, the teacher claimed that Polish people were active collaborators and shared blame for the genocide. My son was horrified and so was I. He told me that after the lesson, one boy turned to him and said I guess that makes you a Nazi sympathizer. Other kids laughed. My son was devastated and just broke down crying. How could anyone say that? Poland was one of the first countries invaded by Nazi Germany, and over 6 million Polish citizens were killed, half of them were Jewish. The Nazis considered Poles to be subhuman and executed entire villages in retaliation for resistance efforts. And yet, even under the threat of death, many Poles risked their lives to save Jewish families. The egota Council was established solely to aid Jews, and people like Irena Sendler smuggled over 2,000 of Jewish children to safety. I emailed the teacher, assuming there was some misunderstanding. But instead of acknowledging the issue, he doubled down saying it was important to explore all perspectives and that Poland wasnt completely innocent. I was furious. Spreading falsehoods like that not only distorts history but also fuels antisemitism and hatred. It also completely disrespects people like my great grandfather, who put their lives on the line to fight the Nazis and endured unimaginable suffering in KZ Stutthof. The next day, I went to the school office and demanded a meeting with the principal. Ill admit, I wasnt calm and could've handled it much better and that's probably where I was the asshole for yelling and swearing at the staff who had nothing to do with it. But I told them how offensive it was to teach blatant misinformation, especially when it led to my son being bullied. I brought up historical facts, ncluding how the Armia Krajowa fought against both the Nazis and the Soviets, and how Polish resistance fighters were often tortured and executed. The teacher was there too, and instead of apologizing, he accused me of overreacting and claimed I was pushing nationalist propaganda. I reminded him that Yad Vashem honors over 7,000 Polish citizens as Righteous Among the Nations for risking their lives to save Jews, more than any other country. Now my wife (who doesn't have Polish ancestry) is saying I've made a scene and embarrassed the teacher, myself and my son and overall disagrees with me doing what I did. My sons still being called names, though the school promised to look into it. My wife thinks I should've handled it differently and not cause a scene or make a big deal about it, but my sister says supports me in my actions. While I agree I could've been calmer and handled it maybe privately, am I really the asshole for standing up for my history and most importantly my son? Am I also wrong to think that it's not acceptable that my wife is okay with my son being bullied in school?

I replied:

ESH, with the asshole scale pointing towards you. The Armja Krajowa was actively anti-Semitic and spent a lot of the time and effort they could have spent fighting the Nazis harassing Jewish partisans instead. They refused to share any intelligence with the Jewish underground and were adamantly opposed to the ghetto uprisings. During the Warsaw Uprising of 1944, the AK continued to harass Jews, accuse them of being Soviet spies, forced them to do the hardest most humiliating tasks, beat, and murdered them. The Armja Ludowa was better to the Jews, but there was still great anti-Semitism within its ranks. Though subject to genocidal conditions themselves, many Poles were complicit in the Holocaust, and felt strongly that if Hitler had to be there, at least he was getting rid of the Jews. The Polish undergrounds were heroic and exposed to genocidal conditions, but that doesn’t erase their complicity, and that complicity is 800% relevant in the context of Holocaust history. You behaved like a nationalist, revisionist, dick and you owe your child’s school an apology. THAT SAID. Your child’s teacher was also wrong. There were ordinary Poles across all levels of Polish society (the righteous gentiles) who risked their lives to aid the Jews. The righteous gentiles are important, and require a presence in these types of lessons. Source: am a Holocaust historian. My first book, a history of the Jewish resistance in Warsaw, will be released in October. ETA: Your kid's teacher also sucks for not intervening in the situation which led him to tears. Downvotes can't change the past, y'all.

The way Poles and Jews of Polish ancestry choose to remember these events is....fascinating, from a memory standpoint. But NUANCE, always.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Devils may love?: MARVEL vs CAPCOM

Thought I’d make this as a fun what if? And addition to devils may love?. Also dedicated to my sincere love of fighting games that I suck at playing

Links: masterlist, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

You’d long accepted that working at devil may cry but especially under a boss like Dante meant you’d be in for a lot more than you initially signed up for

From being kidnapped by his evil twin brother

Almost dying via a jester demon

The raccoons in the back

And not to mention the entirety of mallet island

Not much you could say really phased you anymore unless it was Dante related or your parents

But even then, this was plane ridiculous

You think this to yourself staring at a mixture of super hero’s and many other oddballs

Apparently the multiverse exists and it’s in danger or something

And Dante was dragged into it and by extension you

God your life was complicated as it was before this

Now all this multiverse bullshit is just making it worse

Character profile

Weapons: given to them by their friend Lady, Honeypie carries around a steel briefcase that can be both used to attack and carries a variety of weapons they half hazardly packed into it. From Agni and Rudra to Nevan and many more goodies like firearms. They’re armed to the teeth to make up for lack of demon heritage that a certain someone has.

Profile: Honeypie also known as y/n- is the secretary of devil may cry and quote “the person keeping this place from burning down”. They were a normal person who when needing cash turned to the place that would eventually be named “devil may cry”. Though now being a decently trained person due to two devil hunters they prefer not to be involved in the madness unless necessary but keeps getting dragged into it whether due to Dante’s shenanigans or due to an intense worry for their friends safety.

First appearance: devil may cry (2001)

Power grid

Intelligence: 5/7

Strength: 2/7

Speed: 4/7

Stamina: 4/7

Energy projection: huh? Dante what the hell does that mean- 1/7

Fighting ability: 5/7

(Tacked on with a sticky note onto the stat screen is) Effectiveness in making a broom a weapon: 7/7

A few Character interactions

With Phoenix wright

“Can I get your card? With how much trouble Dante gets into I might need a defence attorney on stand by”

With Morrigan

“Oh are you the same Morrigan that Nevan mentioned? She asked me to invite you to movie night if I ran into you, plus she has some gossip that “is so juicy that it’s to die for” apparently”

With rocket raccoon

“Dear god, please tell me you’re not from the same pack behind the shop. I can deal with demons but not that”

Deadpool

“You’re paying for the damages to dmc that you caused this isn’t up for discussion….also please stop calling me a “reader insert” I don’t know what that means nor do I care that apparently god is a shark tanks diver”

Chun-Li

“Would you be up for potentially training me? My friend lady showed me some hand to hand but I’m really lacking in that department still”

Chris redfield

“Redfield? Sorry thought you said Redgrave for a second there. Similar last name to me and Dante’s hometown….Though I guess there is also that journalist Antonio Redgrave”

Jill Valentine

“You and lady would get along, maybe I should hook you two up sometime. I’m sure she’d be up for drinks”

Wesker

“Uhh please stop looking at me like you’re dissecting me…it’s fucking weird”

Professor X

“Since your a mind reader can you confirm for me if Dante has pizza and sundaes on his mind 24/7? Because I don’t know what else could be going on in there anymore”

Mephisto

“Stop trying to rope me into a deal unless you want Dante, Trish and lady on your ass buddy”

Amaterasu

“Aww you’re a good girl! The bestest girl Ammy!”

Dante interactions

Intro 1 (when equipped with Honeypie as a teamate)

“Cmon! say it please”

“Really?”

“I’ll finish the stack of stuff on my desk when we get back”

“ugh fine…..Featuring Dante from devil may cry”

Intro 2 (when equipped with Honeypie as a teamate)

“Hey! Stay back this time! I don’t want you hurt again!”

“I’ll be fine Dante, just get this over with already”

Intro 3 (when equipped with Honeypie as a teamate)

“Oi! Get back here Dante! You still have the bills to pay!”

“Sorry but Duty calls Honeypie!”

“Duty my ass! You can wipe the floor with them any day! Now finish this quick”

“Aww I’m touched honey~”

Victory (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“Say it with me honey!”

“….fine”

“Jackpot”

Loss (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“Ughhhhh Honeypie can you kiss my wounds better?”

“Dante your already healing”

“My heart isn’t healed though”

“Seems like your brain hasn’t either”

Intro 1 (when fighting Honeypie)

“Cmon honey! No need to be so upset”

“Dante I’m going to make hell look like a cakewalk unless you pay the electricity”

“Uh…so about that, I may or may not have spent that money on pizza-“

“I’m going to kill you”

Intro 2 (when fighting Honeypie)

“Don’t worry honeypie~ I’ll be gentle with ya”

“That’s it! Get over here!!”

“Woah hey copyright-“

Intro 3 (when fighting Honeypie)

“Is this about the raccoons?! I swear I didn’t mean to teach them how to use guns”

“What?!? No!! This is about you tracking blood on the carpet and now apparently i have more than just one reason to be mad at you!!”

“Oops”

Victory (against Honeypie)

“I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

“You better give me a bonus asshole…”

“Ok that’s pretty fair. I did try to be gent-”

“Dante stop talking right now”

Loss (against Honeypie)

“That was a dirty trick bringing out the broom and spritzing me”

“Alls fair in love and war Dante”

“God I wish that were true”

“Huh?”

Vergil interactions

Intro 1 (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“Next time can you please just ask instead of grabbing me and dragging me here? I would’ve said yes”

“I shall…keep that in mind for my next encounter”

“Thanks, that might be sooner rather than later considering I already hear Dante”

Intro 2 (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“Stay back, I shall handle this quickly”

“Uhh ok? That doesn’t answer why you brought me here though-“

Intro 3 (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“Show me how you’ve gotten stronger than when we last met, I’m curious the devil arms you’d acquired”

“I’ll do my best, but a quick warning is that I’m not on your level”

“You have more power than most other humans”

“Thanks, I can’t tell if I should take that as a compliment since your saying this knowing there are a bunch of superhero’s around us or a jab about humanity…I’ll choose the first option”

“Wise choice”

Victory (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“The arrows of almighty god are drawn, angels of death louring in the heaven”

“Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light, and walk together on the clouds of heaven”

“Prepare, prepare”

Loss (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“Don’t look at me with such pity”

“There’s a difference between pity and sympathy Vergil. Now, Heal your wounds instead of throwing yourself into another battle let alone hell again”

Intro 1 (when fighting Honeypie)

“Would you stop with repeatedly kidnapping me?!?”

“Must you be so difficult and just follow me?”

“Why you can’t you just ask like a normal person?!?”

Intro 2 (when fighting Honeypie)

“Please don’t slice my arm off or something in this kind of friendly practice fight”

“I’d never harm you in such a way…”

“That was both ominous and reassuring”

Intro 3 (when fighting Honeypie)

“Please don’t be too rough with me, I can’t walk off being impaled like Dante”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle”

“Wow…you two really are twins”

Victory (against Honeypie)

“Come now, I’ll show you the true power I’d attained”

“You really could have just taken a minute to ask Vergil”

Loss (against Honeypie)

“What?! How!”

“Wow even I’m surprised here. I guess the broom and spraying water trick works well against demons like their disgruntled cats”

Trish interactions

Intro 1 (when equipped with Honeypie as a teamate)

“Good to see you honey~ things certainly got more interesting”

“I’d say it’s good to see you too before I heard that nickname”

“If you help me win I’ll stop calling you it-“

“Deal!”

“-For the day”

“Damn it, I forget your real devil sometimes”

Intro 2 (when equipped with Honeypie as a teamate)

“Be sure to wear something rubber, things might get a bit electrifying”

“Uhh I’m in leather right now,”

“Even better”

“Huh? Well Uh, I’m gonna keep at least 5 feet away”

Intro 3 (when equipped with Honeypie as a teamate)

“I like the new pants Trish!“

“I dress to impress. I’ll take you shopping when this is over and show you where”

Victory (with Honeypie as a teamate)

“Wah~ hey! You shocked me on purpose there!”

“I plead the fifth honey-”

“What about our agreement!”

“Fine, Darling…doesn’t have the same ring to it though”

“What is with all of you and that god awful nickname?”

Loss (with Honeypie as a teammate)

“Well looks like your still my sweet Honeypie for now”

“Nooooo! Damn it!”

“Better luck next time honey. Now let’s go shopping to feel better”

Intro 1 (against Honeypie)

“Uh, you won’t fry me too bad right? I’d rather not have electrical burns on me”

“As if I could ever burn that pretty face of yours”

“Uh we sure that I’m the pretty face here?”

“As sure as I am that hell will freeze over when Dante settles his tab”

Intro 2 (against Honeypie)

“Don’t look so nervous honey, I won’t spark you too hard”

“I’m Moreso worried about having a motorcycle chucked at me”

Intro 3 (against Honeypie)

“This is reminding me a bit of mallet island”

“Don’t worry Trish, *ahem* I’ll fill Your dark soul with light!”

“Pfft- I’m gonna tell Dante you quoted that”

“Oh please don’t-“

Victory (against Honeypie)

“ you good there Honeypie?”

“Note to self…I’m never taking the risk of pissing you off in any way possible”

“Don’t worry, I’ll rub some salve on your wounds”

Loss (against Honeypie)

“Colour me impressed, you’ve gotten a lot better”

“I just still can’t believe broom worked”

“I’ve seen Dante use much worse as a weapon and succeed, anything is possible”

@galaxylibella @dragon-lord-lysander @idleviewer @rosvaline @superbfuryfest @localegdealer @mellophoned @justanotherweeb666 @her-majesty-horiko @treelogirl @angstylittleb1tch @coinduck @living-my-best-life5

[mossyscavern]

B-127, where are you?

____________________

Megatron can’t find b-127

He. Looked. Everywhere!

Ever since he let bee stay with the high guard, still figuring out how to get him home, his decepticons are in higher spirits. He wouldn’t say it out loud… but he was also in high spirits when the sparkling’s here… only problem?

B-127 is nowhere to be found. He looked around the throne room, the med bay, the area outside where he found him crying, everywhere!

He even check on starscream to see if he was hogging the sparkling again. Not even starscream had seen him. In the end (after destroying the base) he accepted the fact that bee might’ve returned to Iacon.

“Soundwave, report.” Megatron states, awaiting for his now communications officer to report what he saw. “Today’s scans: as normal as starscream’s treachery.”

“I heard that!!” The seeker yells, huffing and mumbling in a language megatron doesn’t seem to recognise. “Starscream: vosian, heritage before the primes fall.” Soundwave answers.

‘Ah, that makes sense.’ Megatron thinks for a moment, then another thought popped up. ‘He’s happier than usual… why is he happier?’ Megatron thinks again as the now war-frame looks directly at the mind reader.

“You are… happier today.” He says looking at Soundwave suspiciously. “Soundwave: looks like this. Conclusion: need to update visor and mouth guard.” He answers.

“True… but your em field says otherwise, it’s like your hiding-.” Megatron stops, optics widened as he finally realised whose turn it is today.

“… soundwave, do you know the whereabouts of b-127?” Megatron finally asks, watching Soundwave’s body language as the bot’s em field beams at the question.

“Soundwave: waited for that query. Rumble, frenzy, b-127, eject.” Just when he pushes the button, rumble, frenzy and bee popped their helms out, giggling.

“Hi megs!” Bee waves, smiling wide as megatron stares, blinking. ‘… bee’s going to be the death of me, I swear..! That is adorable though-.’

Megatron thought, Soundwave smiles cheekily to himself and held b-127 in his servos, passing him to megatron as the sparkling’s servos reached for megatron.

“Thank you Soundwave, but please refrain from pulling that stunt again.”

Megatron says, holding b-127 close and protectively in his restarlueus. “Understood.” Soundwave nods and left with his cassettes. Megatron turns to bee with furrowed ridges. “Have you been with Soundwave the entire time?” Megatron asks.

“Yeah! He’s the coolest bot in the high guard! You’re still cool yourself but Soundwave earns the title of best bot. Not best friend which that title-.”

Megatron cut bee off, hugging the smaller bot. “Meggy? Are you ok?” Bee asks, concern going through his processor. “I’m-… I’ll be fine. I need this.” He mumbles, sighing in relief as b-127 hugs megatron.

This is real. Bee’s real… in the metal. And still here.

“I’ll be ok, but promise me you’ll never leave.” He asks staring at the wall he had shot at.

“I dunno... that’s a big promise.” Bee mutters, burying his helm between the shoulder joint and neck guard as megatron. “Just-… please.” Megatron asks.

He’s already lost one bot he cares about, he’s not about to lose another. Not ever. “But what about the whole, ‘figuring out to get me back’ thing?” Bee asks. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Ok?”

“… ok.” B-127 nods, earning a pat on his helm. “Good bot… by the way you’re grounded.”

“… but I’m already a grounder though.”

“Snrk, it’s grounded. Not grounder.” Megatron informs.

“Ooooh… what’s grounded?” B-127 asks, tilting his helm. “I think Soundwave is the best at explaining it.”

____________________

Okie dokie… another of @yuukirita’s babybee au.

Here’s the art they did that got me thinking of doing this -> (papa/mama Soundwave strikes again) <-

Now served with the million dollar question… does babybee know and learn what grounded means?? (I don’t actually have a million dollars… I have a toy t-Rex and an uno reverse card tho-)

[babyleostuff]

HEYYA! I AM SO MUCH IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING

could you write an ot13 acting all cute and all soft with their significant others <3 🥺🤍

seventeen being soft for their s/o | ot13

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 

𓆩♡��� no shocker, but Seungcheol would always be touching you in some way - whether it be a hand on your waist, his head resting on your shoulder, or him playing with your fingers 

𓆩♡𓆪 and he’d be especially soft and cuddly after a long day of work

𓆩♡𓆪 so, after he finally gets home, the first thing he does is to find you, and attach himself to you for the rest of the day/night 

𓆩♡𓆪 his voice would be no louder than a whisper, his eyes fluttering shut from exhaustion 

𓆩♡𓆪 Cheol would look up at you, from where he was lying between your legs, his head on your chest, and ask you to play with his hair 

𓆩♡𓆪 he would nuzzle his face further up your neck, and place gentle kisses there

𓆩♡𓆪 and a quiet “I love you” would be the last thing he’d say before drifting off to sleep

YOON JEONGHAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 I’m a 100% sure Jeonghan is able to stand up for himself, like, that man can destroy people with words 

𓆩♡𓆪 but for some reason I can see him get totally soft over his significant other who tries to defend him, in whatever situation they may be in 

𓆩♡𓆪 like, sometimes he doesn’t even see a point in fighting someone - he just doesn’t care, but if his precious partner would stand up for him, he would melt

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d grab you by the arm, and link your fingers together, silently trying to calm you down and tell you that he’s okay 

𓆩♡𓆪 and he’d look at you with a lovestruck expression, giggling at your angry face, not quite believing in how protective you were of him 

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d also peck your lips as a silent “thank you”

HONG JOSHUA 

𓆩♡𓆪 Shua is a very loving person, and as one of the older members, he usually takes care of the other boys, sometimes forgetting about taking care of himself 

𓆩♡𓆪 “baby, have you eaten yet?” “you really should go to sleep, it’s so late” “text me when you land, have a safe flight! love you lots.”

𓆩♡𓆪 he would internally cry whenever you’d do anything remotely caring towards him, which makes you always so confused, because ??? you’re his significant other, of course you’re going to take care of him 

𓆩♡𓆪 for some reason he never expects people to take care of him in return, but it always makes him feel so soft and appreciated, so he cannot help himself but to pull you into a gentle hug, swaying you from side to side 

WEN JUNHUI 

𓆩♡𓆪 Jun is obviously very proud of his heritage and where he comes from, but he would never try to force his culture onto you, or expect you to learn Chinese for him 

𓆩♡𓆪 so imagine his surprise when one day after coming home, you asked about his day in Chinese

𓆩♡𓆪 he wondered if he was just hearing things due to his tiredness, so he asked you to repeat yourself, and you, more shyly this time, asked the question in Chinese again

𓆩♡𓆪 even though your accent was rather bad, and it wouldn't be really understandable to any other person, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing 

𓆩♡𓆪 with a wide grin on his face, he’d grip your shoulders, and more so bump your bodies together than anything else, caging you in a hug

𓆩♡𓆪 at first you wouldn’t be able to tell what made his act so, but he would quickly explain that it was all because of your question 

𓆩♡𓆪 he would make you repeat it for the rest of the day, following you like lost puppy, kissing you every time you did so

KWON SOONYOUNG 

𓆩♡𓆪 Soonyoung obviously has his random outbursts of energy, and when he gets into that headspace, no one can stop him 

𓆩♡𓆪 there are people that can’t keep up with him (the iron deficiency line), and even though he doesn’t mind it at all, he cannot help but melt whenever his significant other matches the level of his energy and craziness 

𓆩♡𓆪 when he notices you joining him in his antics, and acting as crazy as he does, doing random stuff out of nowhere, it makes him fall in love with you even more 

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d stop whatever he was doing, and look at you like you were the only thing in the world 

𓆩♡𓆪 and when you’d ask what he was looking at, Soonyoung would shake his head and grab your face in his hands, kissing you all over your face 

𓆩♡𓆪 “you’re a crazy person, you know that?” “yes, but I’m your crazy person.” 

LEE JIHOON 

𓆩♡𓆪 work is one of the most important things in life for him, not only because it’s his, well work, but it’s his hobby and life passion as well 

𓆩♡𓆪 and you being something he cares for dearly, makes him feel so full of love and melts his heart, whenever you ask about his work and the songs his working on, with a genuine interest 

𓆩♡𓆪 like, you actually care about what he’s working on - you’re not asking because you feel obligated to, but you really want to know 

𓆩♡𓆪 and he would explain everything with a gentle and patient voice, a shy smile on his face, fighting the urge to smother you in kisses 

𓆩♡𓆪 that’s how you’d spend the night - Jihoon, explaining and showing you his work, and you watching him

𓆩♡𓆪 slowly, as it got colder through the night, you’d scoot closer to each other, cuddling and ending falling asleep under one blanket 

JEON WONWOO

𓆩♡𓆪 although he’s usually very competitive when gaming, he would lose a game on purpose just to see you smile 

𓆩♡𓆪 I’m not a gamer, so maybe I’m not the best person to talk about video games, but I feel like you have to be quite good to beat him, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if you’d lose one game after another

𓆩♡𓆪 even though you wouldn’t verbally state your frustration over losing that many times, Wonwoo would quickly notice your change in behaviour, and the lack of a smile on your face 

𓆩♡𓆪 and he could not imagine a worse thing than his baby being sad over a stupid game 

𓆩♡𓆪 so, the next round he’d try to go easy on you, still winning, but giving you a bigger chance of beating him (if he lost immediately, you’d probably know that he did it on purpose) 

𓆩♡𓆪 but with each game, he’d do worse and worse, and thus letting you win one round 

𓆩♡𓆪 and no game can equal with the happiness that surges through him when he hears you cheer in victory, and how you hug him (probably as a thank you, because you still knew that he lost on purpose)

XU MINGHAO 

𓆩♡𓆪 our fashion icon Xu Minghao would go completely soft over you in his clothes

𓆩♡𓆪 it wouldn’t even have to be anything extravagant or expensive, you could be wearing one of his shirts and a pair of boxers and he’d swear you’re the most beautiful being in this world 

𓆩♡𓆪 insert *heart eyes* whenever you’d incorporate something from his wardrobe into your outfit 

𓆩♡𓆪 especially if you were going out together, he’d love the fact that even a little statement piece would show that you were his and his only (not in a possessive way, he’d find it more cute than hot)

𓆩♡𓆪 Hao would try to tease you sometimes, but the second you mention “okay, I won’t borrow your clothes anymore then” he’s clinging to you and saying how it all was only a joke

𓆩♡𓆪 plus, seeing you in his hoodies during autumn and winter makes him go nuts

KIM MINGYU 

𓆩♡𓆪 cooking dates are a must in your relationship, whether you’re good at cooking or not 

𓆩♡𓆪 Gyu loves spending this time with you, not only because he get to cook which he loves, but he’d finally get the opportunity to spend some quality time with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 but because he’s such an affectionate person, and he loves hugs and cuddles, most of the time, he’d wrap his strong arms around you, caging you in a warm back hug 

𓆩♡𓆪 and that’s how he’d follow you around, you’d waddle around the kitchen together 

𓆩♡𓆪 Mingyu would talk to you in a soft voice,  telling you how much he loves and appreciates you, kissing your neck or cheek

𓆩♡𓆪 other times, he’d place you on the kitchen counter doing all of the cooking himself, making you laugh because of his sillines (he’d act like a dummy just to hear your laugh, he loves seeing you happy)

LEE SEOKMIN 

𓆩♡𓆪 you wouldn’t even have to do anything in particular, and he’d coo at how cute you were 

𓆩♡𓆪 your presence makes him all soft and fluffy from all of the love that he’s feeling, like, sometimes he can’t fathom that you’re really his

𓆩♡𓆪 and that he gets to hold your hand, and kiss you, and cuddle you???

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d have to be blind to not see the way he was looking at you, his gaze always warm and full of love

𓆩♡𓆪 Seokmin would love to squish your cheeks, and give you forehead kisses, but not before telling you how much he loves you 

𓆩♡𓆪 and sometimes when he wouldn’t be able to contain all of those emotions, he’d simply tackle you in a hug, squeezing the life out of you 

BOO SEUNGKWAN

𓆩♡𓆪 Seungkwan loves your voice, whether you like it yourself or not

𓆩♡𓆪 he could listen to you talk all day, without getting bored, and for some reason you had the ability to keep his attention on you 24/7

𓆩♡𓆪 one day when he came home, quietly taking off his shoes, he could hear one of their songs playing from the speaker in your kitchen, which wasn't something unusual, but he had to stop in his track when he heard you suddenly sing

𓆩♡𓆪 Seungkwan stopped around the corner, because he knew that you'd get shy if he walked in, and you would definitely stop singing

𓆩♡𓆪 he could feel his heart swell with love, and he couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face, as a warm feeling settled over his body

𓆩♡𓆪 he slowly approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and put his head on your shoulder

𓆩♡𓆪 after a while, he started singing along with you

CHWE VERNON

𓆩♡𓆪 as a non-cooking member, he’d always appreciate when people made food for him, especially if it was coming from his significant other 

𓆩♡𓆪 “hey babe, what are you doing?” “oh, just dinner for you. I’m making your favourite.”

𓆩♡𓆪 cue heart eyes and a melting heart 

𓆩♡𓆪 he would always try to keep  you company, and help you in case you needed it (although he’d rather stick to telling you funny stories from the rehearsals, and making you laugh)

𓆩♡𓆪 after eating he’d silently thank you with a sweet kiss to your lips and a shy “i love you”

𓆩♡𓆪 also, the next day he’d buy your favourite snacks and candy to make up for the fact that you had to cook for him (not that you minded), and you’d eat it together while cuddling on the sofa and watching a movie (probably shrek)

LEE CHAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 once, Chan caught you dancing to one of their choreographies, and he thought his soul would leave his body because of how cute and adorable you were 

𓆩♡𓆪 he could see how concentrated you were, trying to get all of the moves right, and if you did something wrong you’d huff under your breath, sending your boyfriend into a cardiac arrest 

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d sneak up behind you and place his hands on your hips, gently guiding your body and showing you how you were supposed to execute the moves 

𓆩♡𓆪 and there wouldn’t be anything sexual about it, he would seriously coo out loud, because to him there couldn’t be anything more precious than his partner trying to learn one of their choreographies 

𓆩♡𓆪 Chan would constantly be kissing your cheeks and lips, telling you how good of a job you were doing 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @wonuwoo12 @dkswife

[phylliecheesesteak]

My Shellington Headcanons

It's time.

-Shellington is 28 in my mind, but he could be much older, considering he has a PhD. I would accept anything 42 and below.

-He strikes me as a he/they or he/him, and he could be ftm. 

-There’s no way he’s not at LEAST Bi. no chance.

-AUTISM GALORE

-Shellington is of course Scottish, but I say he’s from the west coast.

-Sea Otters live mainly in the shallow coasts of the North Pacific Ocean, which includes British Columbia. I like to imagine that Shellington’s mom swam (and or washed up) from the north Pacific ocean to the North Atlantic ocean and ended up in Scotland, which is where Pearl and Shellington were born. This is why they don’t have very Scottish first names, but their dad is Scottish, so they have a Scottish last name.

-Speaking of, Shellington’s last name is O’Murphy. 

-I mentioned this before, but Shellington has a PhD, which naturally means he has a few too many grey hairs for his age. This is also true for Pearl. 

-Periwinkle has made brutally honest comments on Shellington’s grey hairs, and he has been mortally wounded by said comments.

-They went to the same university in Scotland, and both are very well known in the Marine Biologist Community.

-Shellington got his maternal grandfather’s first name as a middle name-Mortimer. This makes his full name Shellington Mortimer O’Murphy. It’s quite a mouthful. 

-Shellington got his name because his body knew by instinct he was allergic to red sea urchins but his conscience didn’t, So he picked up nothing but red sea shells when he went on his first diving lesson. 

-Shellington does, in fact, own a kilt, but he doesn’t really wear it. He instead shows his heritage by wearing blue Ghillie Brogues and Kilt hose hidden by his sweatpants.

-On that note, Shellington’s uniform consists of the hat with the octonauts logo, signature collar + button down shirt, sweater-vest, lab coat, sweat pants, his kilt hose, and his bag. 

-He owns multiple fun-patterned Hawaiian shirts, a pair of knee length jorts, fish sandals and the swaggiest sunglasses ya ever did see. (His fits are ATROCIOUS) 

-Shellington often babysits for Pearl when she has classes to teach, and he teaches Periwinkle all about marine animals. Both parties love it.

-Shellington gets very nervous when put on the spot, hence why he didn’t become a professor like his sister, why he panics when behind the wheel of a gup, and why he always fumbles his words when sounding the octo-alert.

-i just KNOW his eyesight is terrible. He def wears contacts.

-adding onto that, he has worse eye-sight than he should, because Shellington tends to forget to take out his contacts and has given himself dry-eye syndrome.

-Tunip keeps a spare pair of glasses for Shellington in his apron pocket.

-Shellington is such a hermit, and it’s mainly because of sensory issues from being in public and just hating socializing. 

-He's spent many nights so locked into his research that he didn't realize he's refilled his coffee cup at least 6 times and it's currently 5 am. I refuse to believe this isn't canon.

-Before Shellington was an octonaut, he was just barely starting college. He was having a breakdown on a random bench near his university where Barnacles found him. He asked Barnacles to tell him about what he's done, and upon hearing Shellington's catalog of discoveries, offered for him to be a part-time octonaut. He of course accepted.

-Shellington has spent 8 years on the Octonaut, and all 8 of those years until now have been as an online college student as well as an Octonaut. when he graduated, he got a huge celebration from the crew and a meaningful gift from everyone. He was crying by the end of it.

-He and Dashi are BEST friends. They're both neurodivergent, and where one has a weakness, the other has a strength-Dashi can't handle grocery shopping, and Shellington can, but Shellington can't handle driving, and Dashi can. They also just get along really well.

-Never trust these two in the vicinity of a coffee pot with each other. They will not sleep until the coffee is confiscated.

-There Is no way Shellington wasn't bullied as a child.

-Periwinkle occasionally calls Shellington 'Uncle Shelly' and it melts his heart every time.

-Shellington has one of the worst slouches on the octopod, second only to Dashi of course.

-I just KNOW he wants to wear rings SO BAD but he can’t because of sensory issues

-Speaking of sensory issues, Shellington’s shirts absolutely have to be a size too big, especially collared shirts. He can’t stand having a tight shirt on. 

-Permanently cold

-I saw this touched on in another post, but Sea otters are very clumsy on land. I feel like he and Pearl were raised in water, but Periwinkle was raised mainly on land, so Peri has no problem walking on land because he learned young, but both Shellington and Pearl need some form of walking aid, usually a cane. 

-Shellington is a single father of 8 because of the vegimals. The crew helps out, but those baby years were a STRUGGLE.

-Shellington owns a very specific type of shark plushie, and routinely holds it's fin at night. If he ends up in a cuddle puddle, he’s usually holding Kwazii’s paw, because it feels the most like an otter’s. 

-Shellington isn’t keen on touch from anyone he doesn’t know like family, and even then doesn’t like excessive touch. 

-He’s not great at communicating his boundaries, especially when he was a kid, so Pearl has always been the one to stand up for him. This is why they are so close.

-He and Peso have an older-brother-younger-brother relationship, with a sprinkle of shared college sleep deprivation

-Shellington is scared of her wrath, but also trusts Tweak with his life.

-Inkling is like a sweet grandpa to him. They get along well because they're both good at yapping about hyperfixations propped up by PhD's over a nice cup of tea.

-He loves all the Vegimals equally

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hey i see your request are open so could i ask for any characters of your choice with a s/o that has a strong battle lust like no matter the situation they if they see something or someone they think is strong or scary enough they just go “lets kill it” anyway thank you for making content its people like you who get me through the day don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to love your stuff keep it up!

Them with a reader that wants to fight everything

characters: Eula / Keqing / Clorinde x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I gotta recover those character banners I used back in the day...

Anyway, thanks for the request and the kind words, they mean a lot and I hope you enjoy!

Eula

Eula has had to work with more people than she could recall over the years, some of them more tolerable than others, whether it was due to their personalities or work ethic. And yet you still managed to rank amongst the most exhausting companions she ever had to work besides.

It wasn’t your personality – she could count the times you got into any kind of conflicts with your squadmates on one hand – nor was there any kind of definition she could use to call your work ethic lacking. If anything… it was the complete opposite.

Having to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed after charging headfirst into battle was tedious enough, and yet it weren’t just Lavachurls and other kinds of monstrous beasts that regularly drew your lust for battle.

“Please, Eula. Just one Punch!” You begged like a little child that was told their parents wouldn’t buy that one toy that they had set their minds on for them, trying your damnedest to wiggle out of her grip. And yet to no avail, as shoulders remained in her tight grip.

If she didn’t know better, Eula would think you were the one that had spent their evening drinking their frustrations away, and not her. If it were anyone other than you, she’d at least try to tell you to calm down, that strangers judging her for her heritage was nothing new for her, and yet considering it was you, she doubted it would have made any difference whether the tall big guy in front of you hadn’t insulted her or not.

Sure, you seemed agitated enough while listening to him talk, but it had only been after he challenged you to a fight that you had tried jumping at him with the excitement of a dog chasing his favourite toy.

Not that you ever got the chance to strike, having your arms used to pull you back the same way one would use the leash on a dog the moment before your feet took off. Nor did you have to punch anyone, as your lack of even a sliver of hesitation and lust for battle alone did enough to drive anyone stupid enough to challenge you away.

“No! We can go search for hilichurl camps tomorrow, sit down!”

Eula didn’t even expect that to work. And yet the moment those words left her mouth you were sitting on the bench as if nothing had ever happened.

Keqing

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The Guardman’s voice echoed out, staring accusatory daggers into you as he tried to catch his breath from having to run all the way here, the footsteps of his companions trailing not far behind him as you immediately raised your arms in a show of peace.

“They tried to hurt each other”, you gestured to the several bandits lying around the grassfield, none of them showing any signs of consciousness, although each of them were still clearly alive.

“But, I’m a peaceful person, I don't do things like that.” As those words flew past your lips, Keqing’s eyes locked with the guard’s.

The two of you had been on a small errand, when a group of treasure hoarders had ambushed you just outside the city’s view, each of them large in stature and looking threatening in their own right, before demanding your goods and mora.

Not wanting to use unnecessary violence, Keqing had just started to try and resolve the conflict with words when you had suddenly kicked one of them with enough force to have him roll down the hill, letting out a war cry best described as ‘unhinged’ before literally picking up the smallest of them and throwing him as if competing in a sport.

By the time the Yuheng stopped blinking at you in utter surprise and sprang into action, all of the bandits had either been knocked out cold or were running for the mountains.

It was… an experience.

“Everything I did, I did in self defense.” You added in a tone that almost made it seem you were sad you had to resort to violence in the first place. 

…She doubted you were. There weren’t all too many pacifists she knew that had a war cry ready at a moment's notice.

“Miss Keqing, you’ve seen the scene play out, I presume? Is it the truth?” The Guard asked her now, the Yuheng’s eyes widening in surprise for a brief moment as she hesitated to answer for a moment before doing so with confidence.

“Considering they did ambush us, I would call it self defense as well.”

Just like that, the two of you were free to go. But while you no longer had anything to explain to the Guards, that didn’t mean you weren’t going to have a discussion about this.

Clorinde

There weren’t many people that would willingly challenge Clorinde to a fight, most of her potential opponents fled or decided to get sentenced instead of duelling her. Not that she could blame them. The number of human fighters in Fontaine that could stand their ground against her could be counted on one hand.

And then… there were you. Always challenging her to fights whenever you could, only to get rejected each and every time. 

Work and private life didn’t mix for Clorinde. You were part of her private life, while duelling was work. She was more than happy enough to have you join her and the others playing games or to indulge you in your hobbies, but duelling? That was out of the question.

Not like her rejections impacted your determination in any way though. You’d still continue asking.

Today was a day to celebrate. Not for Clorinde’s sake, the woman only begrudgingly let you and Navia celebrate her birthday after all, but for yours. Celebrating other peoples’ birthdays or achievements was something entirely different, especially if it were those of people close to her. And yet considering what had led you here in the first place, Clorinde found it difficult to decide whether to congratulate or chide you.

“Congratulations on your promotion. Navia baked some macrons for you when she heard the news”, The woman with a small box of the sweets in her hand, only to pull it away just in time to dodge the hand of yours that reached out to grab it.

“Playing with a wounded officer’s feelings? You’re too cruel, Clorinde”, you pretended to be disappointed in her, only to quickly smile at her, using the momentary distraction to try grabbing the sweets once again.

“And how exactly were you wounded?” She asked in her usual stoic voice as she dodged your hand once again, already knowing the answer to her question.

“By valiantly trying to protect a member of the community.” You declared before trying to strike a pose, only to hiss in pain as you moved your injured arm.

Considering you did manage to help catch a wanted criminal, Clorinde decided not to add insult to injury, leaving out her comment about how she seriously doubted it was the potential victim that caused you to lunch at the criminal and not just the thrill of the fight, letting out a small sigh before placing Navia’s gift in front of you, only to watch you inhale them within moments.

“Clorinde, let's have a duel tomorrow”, you stated in between your bites, only for your movements to come to a grinding halt the moment you heard a dry chuckle escape her lips.

“I’m not going to duel an injured person.”

Almost immediately, Clorinde wished she had phrased that statement differently, as your eyes lit up with almost childlike excitement.

“So you’re alright with duelling me once I’ve recovered?!”

[nvxzaa]

── .✦ Hidden relationship

Masterlist

Pairing : Kim Seungmin x reader

Word : 8.3 k

Genre : angst ? Fluff ? Idk

Warning : crying, pain, violent dad, pregnancy trope

It was often said of Yn that she was born under a lucky star. In professional circles, her family name was enough to silence a room. It inspired respect, rigor, a kind of cool elegance that didn't need sparkle to exist. And she-she was their pride incarnate: brilliant, refined, always polished. The girl everyone would dream of having. The one who always said "thank you", who never raised her voice, and who succeeded in everything she touched.

There were no known missteps. No teenage crisis. No drama. Just perfect letters of recommendation, dresses that always fell just right, and a sweet smile she served to perfection. Even her tears were silent.

But that evening, curled up on her cold bedroom floor, one hand on her rounded belly, Yn was nothing but a secret. Four months. Maybe five. She wasn't even sure. She'd stopped counting the day she'd closed the door behind Seungmin.

He didn't know. He didn't even know why she'd left him. All he'd gotten were cold words, whispered between silences, a clumsy excuse just before he left on tour: "I love you, but you deserve better. Someone free."

The truth was, she'd been afraid. Afraid that her family's name would drown out Seungmin's. Afraid of tarnishing her career. Afraid of sullying her career, of making headlines for the wrong reasons. An out-of-wedlock pregnancy? With an idol? She already knew the headlines. She could hear her father's voice in her head: "You were raised for better than this, Yn."

They knew nothing, her parents. Not a hint. And she did everything to keep it that way. The long dresses, the loose cuts. She'd pretend to be tired, stressed by her internships, too busy to come home. She still played her role to perfection. But her body no longer lied. And the mirror was becoming increasingly cruel.

She just wanted to breathe. Just for a moment. To be Yn, without the reputation, without the expectations, without the weight of heritage. Just her, and this baby she hadn't had the courage to give up. Not even for Seungmin. Because she knew that one day, he'd understand. He might. Or maybe he wouldn't.

But for now, she had to hold on. Because she was the perfect daughter. And no one should ever know how broken she felt.

The sound of the front door echoed faintly in the huge apartment. Yn didn't move. She was lying on her side, her back to the light of the corridor, a blanket pulled up to her shoulders, even if the warmth of her own body was enough. Her hand, resting on her belly, tightened slightly when she recognized her father's voice.

- "Yn, I took what you told me. They've changed the recipe for the soup, so it's sweeter now."

She didn't have the strength to reply.

He stepped forward without waiting for an invitation. He always did that - walk in, talk, exist - never really asking if there was room for him. He was tired, as usual, his features drawn, his jacket open over his impeccable shirt. He set the bag on the desk by the window, adjusted a crooked frame, then turned his eyes to the bed.

- "Are you asleep?"

Silence.

Yn squeezed the fabric a little tighter between her fingers, hoping the trembling of her chin would go unnoticed. She wasn't asleep. She never really slept these days.

He sighed softly and stepped closer, as if expecting an answer that wouldn't come.

- "You're working too hard. You should take a break, you're getting too skinny."

She gave a quiet, almost nervous laugh. Too skinny? If only he knew. She'd put on six kilos. Discreetly. Slowly. The shapes of her belly became more obvious every day, but he couldn't see anything. He wasn't really looking.

Her father stood there for a moment, in the tense silence of the room.

- "You know... Your mom told me you've been looking preoccupied lately. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

She hesitated. Just a heartbeat. Just one more second, and maybe she could have said, "I'm pregnant," or "I can't breathe," or "I left him for you, and lost everything."

But she said nothing. Because she knew the look that would follow. The one full of incomprehension, then disappointment. And she wasn't ready to see it.

So she murmured:

- "I'm just tired."

Her father nodded, as if that were answer enough.

- "All right. Get some rest."

He left the room, and the door closed softly behind him.

Yn's breathing barely quickened. Silent tears slid down her cheeks. She didn't know if it was relief or pain.

Then she placed both hands on her belly, closing her eyes.

- "I'm here, little heart... I'm here. And I'm sorry. So sorry..."

As if he understood, a discreet nudge was felt, almost a caress from within.

She burst into tears, her head buried in the pillow. Because in the midst of it all, there was only this little being answering to her. And that was both her greatest consolation... and her greatest solitude.

The hotel room was pitch-black, barely lit by the screen of his telephone. Seungmin lay motionless on his back, eyes reddened, muscles taut with fatigue.

In his headphones, Yn's voice echoed softly. An old video. She laughed as she secretly filmed him trying to cook, mocking the way he chopped vegetables. She had that mocking voice, soft and full of love. The kind he sorely misses.

He was tired of pretending. During concerts, he smiled. He sang. He played with the fans. But whenever he was alone, it was always her. Always that excruciating emptiness, as if his body still remembered her, even though she wanted nothing to do with him.

He sighed, opened their old conversation once more. Dozens of blue messages. Some short, desperate. Others long, trembling, as if he could bring her back with the right words. But all unanswered. All facing the same wall.

And above all, at the top of the screen: "You cannot send messages to this person."

Blocked.

Again.

He squeezed the phone between his fingers. He'd already tried other ways. Phone calls. E-mails. Even a letter left in his mailbox in Seoul. Nothing. Total silence.

But that night, despite everything, despite the shame, despite the pain... he tried again.

He returned to the conversation, heart pounding.

"I miss you. At least tell me why."

He typed the words.

He pressed send.

And the message disappeared... like the others.

Blocked.

Still.

Seungmin closed his eyes, one arm over his eyelids, to hold back the tears. It was no longer just grief. It was an absence that devoured him.

He would have given anything for a single word from her. Even a harsh word. Even an insult. Anything. Anything, as long as it wasn't this emptiness.

Yn had waited until the house was asleep to turn on her phone. She lay in bed with the light off, her hands on her stomach. Sometimes she felt slight movements - discreet but very real - like a reminder that her life had changed forever.

With a heavy heart, she unlocked her screen and opened a folder hidden at the back of her gallery. Code name: Winter. Inside, hundreds of videos, photos, vocals. All that remained of him. Of them.

She played a voice at random. Seungmin's voice filled the room. He sang into a studio microphone between takes, then laughed, "Did you hear that? This one's for you. Even if I missed the last note."

She put a hand in front of her mouth, tears welling up without warning. She tried not to cry, especially around the baby. But tonight was too much.

Then she opened their old conversation. Not the one she'd blocked. The other one. The one she'd transferred to a secondary app, where all messages were archived. Because she couldn't delete them. Because she needed to read them again and again, even if it broke her heart every time.

She scanned the dozens of messages he'd sent since the breakup. They were all there. Some heartbreaking. Others confused, or filled with restrained anger.

She pressed the phone to her chest, her eyes closed. She wanted to answer him. She wanted to tell him everything: that she was pregnant. That she still loved him. That she thought about him every second. That the baby had his features in the rare dreams she had.

But she couldn't. Not yet. Not until everything was clear. Not until she knew how to face her family, or what Seungmin would become if his name to her brought everything crashing down around him.

- "I'm sorry..." she murmured to the silence, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She lowered her eyes to his belly and placed her hand on it, gently.

- "Daddy loves you, you know... He doesn't know it yet, but he already does."

And in that almost sacred silence, she felt a little tap against her palm.

She burst into tears again, because it was all too beautiful... and too painful at the same time.

That day, Yn had spent the morning at the conservatory. It was nothing out of the ordinary: a class, a few rehearsals, a bit of piano to clear the head. She caught herself smiling slightly as she felt a light tap in her stomach as she played. The kind of suspended moment she kept to herself.

On the way home, everything seemed normal.

The big house was bathed in an almost religious silence, as always. The flowers in the hall had been changed, and soft light filtered through the large bay windows. She politely greeted one of the cleaning ladies as she passed, but this time... she noticed something strange.

The woman's gaze lingered a little too long on her belly.

Just a little.

And in the bedroom, later, she understood why: one of the drawers she'd carefully hidden behind bags of laundry had been left ajar. Inside: a box with her ultrasound scans. A stuffed toy she'd bought on the sly. A couple of small items of clothing. And the test. Lying there like a time bomb.

She ran downstairs and found the cleaning lady in the scullery. Her face was closed, but not hostile. More like... worried.

Yn almost fell to his knees in front of her, his hands trembling.

- "Please... don't say anything. I'm begging you not to. Just... not now. I... I don't have anyone."

The housekeeper hesitated for a long moment, then nodded slowly. A simple:

- "All right."

No smile. Not warmth. But agreement.

Yn had thought he could breathe again.

Until evening.

She was sitting in her room, wrapped in a blanket, staring out the big window. It was raining. She gently stroked her belly in silence, her eyelids heavy.

Then she heard the front door open.

Her father.

She didn't even have to turn her head to sense that something was wrong. There was an unbearable tension in the air. And when she finally looked up... she saw his gaze. Frozen. Black. Icy.

And she understood.

He knew.

- "Dad..." she said, in a trembling voice, as she straightened up, her heart beating wildly.

- "Dad, please... I can explain everything..."

But he gave her no time.

In three steps, he was on top of her. His hand brutally seized her hair, pulling so hard she cried out in pain. He screamed, in a voice she'd never heard him use before. A voice full of rage, shame, betrayal.

- "YOU HAVE DISHONORED US!"

She tried to struggle, to get up, but he dragged her out of the living room, almost pulling her to the floor.

- "Stop it! Daddy, please, the baby-!"

But he couldn't hear any more.

He pulled her abruptly down the stairs. She fell halfway down the last few steps, her body trembling with fear, tears welling up uncontrollably.

And then he threw her down, there, in front of her mother, sitting on the sofa, livid.

The silence was more chilling than the screams. Mother said nothing. Not a word. Only that look.

That empty look. Disappointed. Icy.

Yn struggled to her feet, resting her protective hands on her belly, shaking with sobs.

She wanted to disappear.

But she was no longer alone.

- "WHO IS IT?!"

Her father's voice burst through the living room like a slap. Yn curled up, her face swollen with tears, kept her arms crossed over her belly to protect what mattered most.

- "Tell me. Tell me who put that in your stomach! WHO?!"

She said nothing.

Just a faraway, drained look.

He approached, gave her a brutal slap that turned her head to the side. A red streak appeared almost immediately on her cheek. She didn't scream. She took it. Because she'd learned to keep quiet. Because she was too scared.

- "How long have you been?! How long have you been lying to me?!"

Another slap.

She felt a metallic taste in her mouth, but she refused to speak. She didn't want to drag Seungmin into this. She didn't want him to go through this madness. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve them.

Her mother, silent until now, suddenly stood up, her voice trembling.

- That's enough. Stop it, stop it. You see her, don't you? She's pregnant-"

- "YOU. SHUT UP!" he yelled without even looking at her.

Then he grabbed Yn by the arm, and she struggled, this time, a little, just a little. But not enough.

He grabbed her hand.

And he squeezed.

Too hard. Much too hard.

She screamed, a sharp, inhuman cry, as a sharp crack echoed through the room. Two of her fingers bent at an odd angle. The pain was searing, suffocating. She collapsed to the floor, breathless, unable to hold back her sobs.

- "You want to play that? I'm game. Until you tell me who it is, you're no longer my daughter. This house no longer belongs to you."

He pulled her to the entrance.

She was begging.

- "Daddy... daddy, please, think of the baby... I'm sorry... I'm begging you..."

But he opened the door. And pushed her out.

The night chill hit her like a wall. She was barefoot. She shivered, bent double, her hand hanging down, on fire. But she drummed on the door, desperate.

- "Daddy, daddy, please! He didn't ask for it, it's not his fault! I didn't... I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just..."

She collapsed against the door.

Then she felt a dull pain in her stomach. A kind of contraction, strange, violent. She paled.

She knew it was a bad sign.

This time, she really screamed.

- SEUNGMIN! It's Seungmin, okay?! He's the father!"

Silence.

A sharp slam.

The door slowly reopened.

He appeared, cold, implacable. He said nothing. He grabbed his phone from his vest pocket and slipped it into his own. Then he grabbed Yn by the arm, ignoring her moans of pain and trembling.

He dragged her to her room.

He slammed the door behind her. And locked it.

Yn collapsed to the floor, leaning against the wall, clutching her stomach with her still-valid hand, the other twisted against her chest. She was suffocating. Not from pain. But from fear. Isolation. The emptiness.

She murmured between sobs, almost to herself:

- "I'm here, baby... I'm here. I won't leave you. I promise..."

But she herself was no longer sure she could keep that promise.

Morning was barely filtering through the large curtains when the bedroom door opened.

Yn was lying on the cold floor, where she had collapsed the day before. Her face scarred, her hair a mess on her shoulders, her fractured hand swollen and reddened. The other rested gently on her belly, protective even in unconsciousness. She wasn't really asleep, she was just... exhausted. Broken.

A low, masculine voice cut through the silence.

- "Mademoiselle...?"

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the light that flooded the room. In front of her, a man in a white coat crouched. A doctor. He carried a leather satchel at his side and wore thin-framed glasses.

- I'm Dr. Baek. Your father asked me to come and examine your hand."

She nodded weakly.

But she said nothing.

The doctor approached, delicate, and began to observe her injured hand without immediately touching it. His gaze was different. More human. He didn't seem there to judge. Just to heal.

- Two fractures. Here and here. We're going to have to immobilize. I'd need to get an X-ray, but... I doubt they'll let me take you anywhere."

Yn looked him in the eye at last. There was a strange silence between them, then she whispered:

- "I'm pregnant."

He didn't answer immediately. He merely tilted an eyebrow, then nodded slowly.

- "I know."

- "He... he's going to keep me locked up in here, isn't he?"

He straightened up, pulled a light splint and something to ease the pain from the bag. He spoke little, but he was attentive. Every gesture was precise, almost reassuring despite the context.

- I can't take a stand. But... it's not for him to decide what you do with your body. Nor your life."

She felt the tears welling up again. Not violent. Just there, calm, slow. Tears of fatigue. Of injustice. Of helplessness.

The doctor finished bandaging her hand carefully.

- "I'll come back tomorrow. I'll bring you something to treat the inflammation. And... I'll bring you a duplicate of your tests, if you like."

Yn looked up at him.

- "Thank you."

Before leaving, he paused in the doorway, glancing briefly behind him.

- "You're not on your own. Not while you're carrying this little being."

And he closed the door, leaving Yn, her heart still tight, but this time... a little less alone than yesterday.

The tour was coming to an end.

Suitcases were beginning to fill up, tired pens were scribbling the last dedications, and members were laughing as they shared their end-of-concert dishes. All except Seungmin.

He was just pretending.

For days, he'd been wearing this mask of professionalism with a thread that threatened to crack with every forced smile. He barely slept. He ate without hunger. Yn's videos, photos, voice notes looped through his phone, which he never had in his hands so often. And his messages... always blocked. Always unanswered.

He'd stopped counting them.

That day, as they were packing up for their imminent return to Seoul, their manager entered the common room in a hurry. He swept his gaze around the room, spotted Seungmin and approached without delay.

- "Seungmin, come with me for two seconds."

His tone was neutral, but his gaze was urgent. Seungmin frowned slightly and followed without saying a word.

They moved a little away from the others, into a quiet corridor of the hotel. The manager checked that no one was listening, then took a deep breath.

- "Get your things ready now. You're flying back to Seoul tonight on a private flight."

Seungmin blinked, taken aback.

- "Huh? Why?"

The manager lowered his eyes for a second, then resumed without answering directly:

- "Don't ask any questions. I'll tell you when you're on the plane. You've got to come home. It's important."

- "But... what's going on? Is someone... is it Yn?"

His heart had raced before he'd even finished the sentence. He sensed something was wrong. And the manager's silence, that slight twitch in his eyes, only confirmed his worst suspicions.

- "Get ready, Seungmin. And above all... stay calm."

It was the last thing he heard before running to his room, hands shaking, sweeping everything into his suitcase in a hurry.

He had no idea what awaited him in Korea.

But deep down, he knew that something had broken.

And that Yn's name had never stopped beating in the hollow of his temples.

Yn's sleep was never deep these days. She dozed more than she really slept, her body tense with pain, fear... and that hand always resting on her belly like a reflex, an anchor, a shield.

That morning, it was a sharp pain that woke her from this half-sleep.

- Get up."

Her father.

He had opened the door with a bang and approached her ruthlessly. With a brutal gesture, he pulled back the thin blanket covering her legs, and Yn gasped in panic, immediately folding her wounded arm against her.

- "You get ready. You get dressed. We're going out."

She looked up at him, still half in the blur of waking, her heart beating wildly.

- "We... we're going where?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

- "You're asking too many questions. You want to live here like a parasite, so you do as you're told. Get ready."

He turned on his heels, slammed the door. No word about her still swollen hand, or the fever that was beginning to simmer inside her. She stood there for a moment, frozen, her eyes misty, unable to move.

Her belly, under his hand, moved slightly. A gentle pressure, like a silent response.

- "I'm here, I'm here, baby..." she murmured, resting her forehead on her knees, barely breathing.

She had no choice. He'd locked her up for days. Cut off from the world. She still didn't know whether her phone had been destroyed or simply confiscated. She hadn't seen Dr. Baek either. Just the same housekeeper, mute, dropping off cold trays without looking her in the eye.

And now he wanted to take her somewhere.

She stood up slowly, her back aching, her bandaged hand trembling. She pulled on a baggy sweater and baggy pants, and tied her hair up as best she could. She knew how to hide her belly now. She'd learned. Through terror and loneliness.

When she left the room, her father was already waiting for her by the door, keys in hand.

Without a word, she slipped on her shoes. He opened the door.

The sun dazzled her. It had been days since she'd seen him other than through a window.

But deep down, she sensed that this was no ordinary outing.

The journey was made in silence.

Yn sat in the back seat, her untouched hand clasped on the belt, the other resting discreetly against her belly as if, with a simple gesture, she could hide him... or perhaps protect him.

His father said nothing. Concentrating on the road, jaw clenched, his fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel at every red light.

At first, she didn't understand.

They'd left the residential neighborhood. She'd thought it was a visit to a doctor, perhaps. Or to some administration office to get her to sign some kind of commitment. But as they made their way through Seoul, anxiety mounted.

She recognized a street.

Then a traffic light.

Then the sign, white, discreet, almost too clean: JYP Entertainment.

Her heart stopped dead in her tracks.

- Dad... Dad, no. Not there. Please."

He didn't react.

- "You can't do this. You can't..."

She straightened a little, distraught.

- "Dad, I'm begging you, not there. You don't understand what you're doing!"

He gripped the steering wheel even tighter, his knuckles blanched.

- "Shut up."

- "You're... you're going to ruin her life. You're going to ruin mine. What do you want to do? Humiliate him? Get him fired?!

- "He got you pregnant."

- "I'm the one who didn't tell him! I'm the one who left him! Don't you get it? I'm the one-"

- "He's the one who crossed the line."

- "What do you want to do? You want him to get down on his knees and apologize? Do you want him to disappear? He didn't ask for anything! He doesn't even know!"

He tapped the steering wheel once, curtly, brutally.

- "He'll know."

Yn felt her throat knot, panic overcome her. Her breathing was labored. Every heartbeat burned. She leaned forward, searching for his gaze in the rearview mirror.

- "Dad... Dad, I'm begging you. I've ruined everything all by myself. Leave him out of it. I'm pregnant. I'm... happy. I was happy. You're going to ruin everything, do you understand that?"

He stopped the car dead in front of JYP's building.

He turned to her.

- "Get out."

And this time there was no anger in his voice.

Just a cold decision. Inflexible.

Yn didn't move.

She remained frozen in her seat, her eyes riveted on the large glass letters of the JYP building. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, against her ribs, against her stomach. She felt nauseous, frozen, unable to think straight.

- "I told you to get out," her father repeated.

She squeezed her legs together, backed slightly against the car door. A heavy silence stretched across the cabin, interrupted only by the distant sound of a horn around the corner.

- "You're getting out, now."

- *"No..." she breathed, almost inaudibly. "You can't do this..."

He turned to her, and his gaze didn't waver.

- "You want me to go in there alone and give his name to all the executives? Demand a conference with their management and show them the sonograms? You think that won't open doors for me?"

Yn stiffened. Her throat tightened. She felt her vision blur slightly. He knew full well what this kind of scandal could cause. He knew what it would do to Seungmin. To their relationship. To his career.

He wanted her to bear the responsibility. He wanted her to do the talking.

He wanted to force her to choose: obey or lose everything.

A silence. Then a trembling. A silent tear slid down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away with a trembling flick of her sleeve.

She opened the car door.

She got out slowly, her breath short, her hand on her stomach as a painful reflex. She heard her father lock the car behind her and walk towards the entrance of the building. She tried to swallow her sob, to stay upright. But her legs gave way with every step.

In front of the glass entrance, he looked at her, without waiting, and declared curtly:

- "Follow me. Don't you want to talk? I don't mind. We'll see what they decide."

Yn didn't answer.

But deep inside her, one thing was clear.

She had to stop this.

Even if she had to break herself to do it.

The meeting room was as cold as the faces that occupied it.

Yn sat without a word, her father beside her, straight as an ice wall. Opposite them were three members of JYP's executive staff, a senior manager - the one who oversaw international tours - and a man Yn didn't know, but whom her father had introduced as "her legal advisor".

The blinds were down, the table too long, the tension palpable.

- "Sir [Father's name], we received your urgent request this very morning," began the senior manager, placing his clasped hands on the table. "We understand the seriousness of what you're saying, but..."

- "It's not a rumor," cut in her father coldly. "My daughter is pregnant. By one of your artists. And has been for several months. She's just confirmed it. I'm not here to speculate."

Yn kept her eyes downcast. She felt like her heart was beating in her throat. She could feel the baby moving slowly against her hand resting on her belly. She silently prayed that none of this would reach her.

- "We... need to hear both sides of the story," the staff man said uncomfortably. "And above all... understand the intentions behind this... situation."

- "There's nothing to understand," replied her father, even harsher. "My daughter has been drawn into a covert relationship. She's a minor by the family standards of our association contract. She gave up everything for that boy."

- "That's not true."

Yn's voice was barely audible.

But the silence that followed was total.

She looked up for the first time since the beginning. Tears glistened there, but none fell.

- "I'm the one who left him. I never told him about the baby. He didn't force me into anything. He loved me. Maybe he still loves me."

- "You're lying," her father blurted out. "You're protecting the man who ruined your life."

- "He didn't ruin anything for me."

The manager pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly overwhelmed.

- "We must... we must calm the tone. It's out of the question for this kind of subject to be dealt with in an impromptu meeting, without the legal presence of both parties involved."

The man in the dark suit, the one his father had brought, calmly slid an envelope across the table.

- "We've already prepared a complaint and confidentiality agreement document. All we need is a signature from JYP."

The manager glanced at the envelope, then at Yn.

- "What if the artist concerned decided to acknowledge his responsibilities?"

Yn's father almost burst out laughing.

- "Then I hope for your sake you're prepared to bury his career."

- "I... Can I go to the bathroom?"

Her voice barely trembled, but Yn felt everyone turn to her. Her father, annoyed at first, opened his mouth to refuse. But one of the managers intervened:

- "Let her be. She's pregnant."

Silence stretched. Then a nod. She rose slowly, trying to keep her gait assured, even though everything inside her vibrated with tension.

But once in the corridor, she turned left instead of toward the bathroom.

She was walking fast. She didn't know exactly where he was, but she knew the premises well enough. She knew they were back from tour. She'd heard it in spite of herself during the meeting. Seungmin's back.

She searched every open room with her eyes. She passed familiar corridors, where she'd once waited for him during rehearsals, where he'd sent her messages on the sly to meet him upstairs.

And then... a door ajar. A familiar voice.

There he was. Sitting alone in a small break room, bottle of water in hand, eyes glued to his phone. Tired. Tired.

Yn entered without knocking.

He looked up, surprised. And what he saw in her gaze made him jump to his feet.

- "Yn?"

She couldn't speak.

She crossed the room with hesitant steps, then literally collapsed against him. Her arms around him, her tears bursting all at once, like a dam giving way. She clung to his shirt, squeezing it tight, and all she managed to say was:

- "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

- "Hey, hey, hey, what's going on?" asked Seungmin, alarmed. He placed his hands on her shoulders, then against her head, as if to reassure her. "What's the matter, why are you...? Yn, are you crying? Are you all right? What are you doing here?"

But she kept crying, unable to stop, murmuring again:

- "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to, I... I abandoned you, I left you, I ruined everything..."

- "No. No, you explain to me what's going on, now. Why are you here? Why are you saying this? Yn, look at me."

But he doesn't have time to finish his sentence.

The door swings open. A visibly nervous staff member appears in the doorframe.

- Ah, there you are. Come right in. The meeting's already started, everyone's waiting for you."

Yn jumps to his feet, hastily wiping away tears. Seungmin, meanwhile, remains frozen, his gaze going from Yn to the employee, unable to understand what's going on.

- "What meeting?"

But the staff doesn't answer. He merely nods curtly.

- "Hurry up."

Yn looks down, his heart in his throat.

Seungmin, worried, follows her anyway, not understanding that this step into the hallway may be the one that turns everything on its head.

The meeting room door slammed shut behind them. Yn was the first to enter, her shoulders slumped and her eyes glazed over. Seungmin, just behind her, was staring into the room, still at a loss to understand what was going on.

Around the big table were JYP himself, two agency managers, a legal advisor, and... Yn's father. Sitting upright, arms folded, his dark gaze fixed on his daughter as if he could see nothing else.

All eyes turned to them. The silence in the room was almost brutal.

Seungmin swallowed.

He recognized the man immediately. He knew what Yn's father looked like, although he'd never seen him in real life. He was all over the business papers, invited to major conferences, known all over the country. And suddenly, everything became clear in his mind: he'd discovered our relationship.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He clenched his fists without even realizing it.

Yn sat down without a word, staring into space. Seungmin hesitated for a second before settling down next to her, glancing around the room.

Seungmin's manager spoke up, in a cautious tone:

- "Thank you for coming so quickly. It's about time we had this conversation, all of us together."

Yn's father huffed loudly, as if all this was costing him more than it should.

- "I want to know how long this has been going on. How long my daughter has been... involved."

Seungmin opened her mouth to reply, but one of JYP's managers interrupted her gently:

- "Seungmin, before you answer... we want to be very clear. This is not an interrogation. But under the terms of your contract, any hidden relationship of this nature has consequences, you know that. So it's crucial that you tell us everything, honestly, from the beginning."

Seungmin looked at Yn. She kept her eyes riveted to his lap. And in that instant, something changed in his gaze.

He straightened up, inhaled deeply, and replied, calmly, in a clear voice:

- "It's been almost three years."

A murmur crossed the room.

Yn's father half straightened:

- "Three years?! Three years you've been hiding this?!"

But Seungmin remained upright.

- "Yes. We've done everything to make sure no one finds out. Out of respect for his image. For yours. For my career too. We were careful. No one found out."

- "And now she's pregnant," the father cut in coldly, "and you dare to say you were careful?"

Seungmin froze for a moment.

He slowly turned his head towards Yn.

She hadn't looked up... but her silence confirmed everything.

It was like a blow to the chest. The breath left his lungs. Everything that hadn't yet taken shape, everything he hadn't wanted to understand... clicked into place in a single second.

- "She's... pregnant?"

Yn closed his eyes. A silent tear rolled down his cheek.

- "From me?"

Her voice had broken.

Seungmin's silence was heavy, icy. He stared blankly at Yn, completely stunned. She still didn't speak. Her hand trembled in her lap, and when she finally met his eyes, it was as if she were breaking from the inside out. She burst into tears.

Not quiet tears.

Uncontrollable sobs, muffled by his hand over her mouth, her back bent, her chest heaving painfully with every breath. And while she collapsed, the world around them went on as if nothing had happened.

Yn's father sat up a little straighter, about to speak again, but it was JYP who raised his hand.

His voice, calm and sharp as an ice blade, echoed through the room:

- "I think we've all figured it out by now."

All eyes turned to him.

- "Now we have to think about what's next. And at this stage, there's only one viable solution to preserve Seungmin's image and that of Mademoiselle's family."

He cast a quick glance at Yn, who was trying in vain to contain her tears.

- "A marriage. Discreet at first, but well framed. We'll draw up a contract this afternoon, provided of course that the girl's father agrees."

Seungmin slowly raised her head, breathless.

- "A what?"

But no one answered. Not yet.

Yn's father frowned, but said nothing. He was thinking. JYP continued:

- "We'll be holding a second meeting in the next few days, once the terms of the contract have been validated. We'll also need to discuss official communications. If it takes place. Or if we choose to keep this situation confidential."

Yn had stopped crying from exhaustion, but his hands were still shaking. Seungmin, on the other hand, hadn't moved. He hadn't even processed what he'd just heard.

Marriage? A contract?

It was as if someone was talking about them without them being there.

The meeting was adjourned without either of them saying a word. Yn's father greeted the JYP members coldly, then left the room without even looking at his daughter. The rest of the staff scattered, each taking their files, chatting in hushed tones, as if none of this was serious. As if it were just a logistical problem.

Seungmin didn't move.

As for Yn, she just sat there, blank-eyed, frozen, as if she could no longer feel her own body. When at last the room was empty, he rose slowly, walked around the table, and crouched in front of her.

- "Yn..."

She blinked, barely conscious.

- "Yn, look at me, please."

She did so, eyes reddened, lashes wet, breath still ragged.

He placed his hand on hers, gently.

- "You're pregnant."

She nodded, silently, as if ashamed to confirm it. And there, in her voice, there was no anger. Just deep distress.

- "Why didn't you tell me?"

Her voice was barely a whisper.

Yn opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her heart was on fire, but she had no strength left to explain.

Then she suddenly leaned towards him, and embraced him. Her face buried in his neck, her arms around him, trembling, desperate.

- "I didn't want your career to fall apart... I ruined everything, I'm sorry, Seungmin, I'm sorry..."

He hugged her tightly, without thinking, without even answering. Just keeping her there, against him, as if to fix her.

- "You didn't ruin it for me," he breathed. "You just took away my right to be here."

Yn burst into tears again, unable to stand without him.

And for a moment, there was no contract, no reputation, no family.

Just the two of them.

And that secret beating between them, close to her stomach.

They remained entwined for a few minutes. Seungmin didn't speak, just felt her uneven breath against his neck, her heart beating too fast, her pain almost palpable. And he wished this moment would never end - that she would stay there, in his arms, far from all this, far from the pressure, the looks, the absurd decisions being made for them.

But a voice abruptly tore them from their bubble.

- "Miss Yn?"

They jerked to their feet. A young staff member stood in the doorway, uncomfortable, glaring.

- "Your father's expecting you."

Yn stepped back slightly, and she lowered her head.

Seungmin immediately felt her hand tighten in his.

She murmured, barely audible:

- "I don't want to go."

But she knew she had no choice.

She gently pulled away from Seungmin, wiped away her tears with an awkward gesture, and nodded to the staff.

Before leaving, she turned her head briefly to him, her eyes full of sadness and fear.

- "I'm sorry."

And without giving him time to reply, she left.

The door closed softly.

Seungmin was left alone, sitting on the chair she'd just left, his eyes on the exact spot where she'd been standing a few seconds earlier. He felt empty. Broken. And powerless.

As soon as the door closed behind Yn, Seungmin froze for a few seconds, his heart racing. A lump had formed in his throat, and he felt that if he stayed another minute in that room, he'd suffocate.

He quickly left the building, without telling anyone. He didn't really know what he was doing or where he was going, but his footsteps eventually led him to his parents' apartment in Incheon.

He knocked, and his mother opened, surprised.

- "Seungmin? What... I heard you were still on tour?"

He simply nodded, his eyes tired, his features drawn.

- "I know... but I had to come and talk to you."

She stepped back, letting him in, worried now as she saw his condition. He sat in the living room, not saying a word for a few moments. Then, finally, he took a shaky breath.

- "Yn's pregnant."

His mother froze. He continued, in a low tone.

- "It's from me. And I just found out... today."

He clenched his fists.

- "She kept it all to herself. She left me just before I went on tour, without explaining anything. And I just realized why. Her family... especially her father... he's... he's controlling her, watching her. He even hit her. I think she hurt her hand, but she's not saying anything."

He rested his elbows on his knees, took his head in his hands.

- "And I don't know what to do, Mom. I... I don't want to make a mistake. They want to force us to get married to preserve our images. They didn't even ask me if I agreed. We just became parts in their plans."

He lifted his head toward her, his eyes red with emotion.

- "I feel helpless. And I needed to tell you, to you. I need someone to listen to me without it being to control my career or save a reputation."

His mother, silent until then, stepped closer and laid a gentle hand on his back.

- "You did well to come."

[___]

Evening had long since fallen, and Yn's room was bathed in a quiet gloom, softened by the warm glow of her bedside lamp. She was lying on her side, her hair spread in a curly mess on the pillow, one hand resting on her round belly under the blanket.

She murmured softly, into the silence:

- "You know... I'm scared. I'm afraid of what they'll decide for us. I'm afraid they'll take you away from me. But I swear... I swear I already love you more than anything."

A light tap under her hand made her smile despite the tears that were slowly running down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, clenching her teeth to keep from melting further.

Then, suddenly, a thump. A discreet but insistent knock-knock-knock against the glass.

Yn froze. Her heart began to beat faster. She sat up slowly, pulled the curtain slightly aside.

And her breath caught.

- "Seungmin..." she breathed, mouth ajar.

There he was, outside, dressed in a dark sweater, a bag on his back, his locks tousled by the wind. He had that same worried, tender look he'd always had when he'd sneaked in to see her, during the nights of their early years together.

It wasn't the first time he'd passed through this window. But tonight was different. He wasn't coming for a stolen moment. He'd come because he couldn't stay away any longer.

Yn hurriedly opened the window. He climbed in silently, with the ease of habit, then stood there, facing her, not knowing what to say.

His eyes fell on the bandage around her hand. He paled.

She looked away, murmuring:

- "You shouldn't be here..."

- "I know." he breathed. "But I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't sleep thinking about you. Of... of you."

He looked down briefly at his belly, still inconspicuous under the fabric.

- "I just... wanted to make sure you were okay. Even if you're not. Just... see that you're breathing. That you're here."

Yn nodded, tears at the edges of her lashes. She stepped back slightly to make room for him on the bed.

- "You want to... stay a while?"

- "You might as well leave me."

And he sat down beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder. For a moment, they said nothing. The silence was heavy, but full of what they didn't yet dare to say.

Then she whispered, almost imperceptibly:

- "He saw you as a threat... but you were just the place I felt at home."

Seungmin closed his eyes, his arms around her, holding her to him as if he could protect her from the whole world.

The silence was almost sacred, lulled by the beating of their hearts. Yn had closed his eyes for a moment, his cheek resting against Seungmin's shoulder, gently breathing in his presence, as if to make sure he was real.

But suddenly, he moved.

She looked up, confused, and saw him get off the bed to kneel before her.

- "Seungmin?"

He gently took both her hands, holding them in his with disarming tenderness. His gaze was serious, trembling, but deeply sincere.

- "Yn... I'm not going to pretend. I don't want to get married."

She stared at him, lips parted, already about to close like a shell, thinking he would back down.

But he continued, his voice vibrant:

- "Not because I don't want to be with you. Not because I'm afraid of you or the baby. But because I'm afraid... that I'm not up to it. Because I don't feel ready. And that it's too big a responsibility... to do this under pressure, without even time to breathe."

Yn felt his throat tighten.

But Seungmin squeezed her hands a little tighter.

- "But I love you." He inhaled, deeply. "And I don't want to lose you. Not you, not him. Or her."

He glanced softly down at her belly, then back to her eyes.

- "So if getting married means getting you out of this house, this prison... if it means being able to protect you from him... if it means we can be together, without hiding, and you can finally breathe... then okay."

His voice trembled, but he remained firm.

- We'll do it. Not for the image, not for them. But for you. For the baby. For the three of us."

Yn, unable to hold back her tears, threw herself into her arms. She encircled him as if afraid she'd never see him again, her sobs muffled against his neck.

- "I was so scared..." she whispered, broken. "I thought you'd be mad at me. That you'd forget me. That I'd ruined everything."

- "Never." he breathed. "You haven't lost me, Yn. You never lost me."

And in that silent room, between tears, promises, doubts, and the weight of the world, two young souls decided to try. Together.

The next few days passed without respite. As the tour drew to a close, the Stray Kids finally returned to Korea. There was something different about Seungmin. Even Hyunjin, who usually liked to tease him, had stopped at the threshold of his room, his eyebrows furrowed.

- "You look ten years older, man."

Seungmin hadn't replied. He'd just nodded, and Hyunjin, for once, had restrained himself from insisting.

Meanwhile, back at JYP, the wheels were in motion. An official meeting was held to prepare the terms of the marriage contract between Yn and Seungmin. Yn's father was there, rigid as an ice wall, watching every word.

Sitting in the large meeting room, Yn clutched the armrests of her chair. Seungmin, beside her, glanced up at her, slipping his hand discreetly over hers under the table.

A company lawyer was spelling out the terms:

- "The contract stipulates that the marriage must last a minimum of five years before either party can file for divorce. This is to preserve the stability of the group's public image, as well as the reputation of Miss...'s family."

He continued, unperturbed:

- "... Public appearances will have to be reduced. The child's existence will not be made public until a formal agreement has been reached between both parties and the agency. Any decision concerning the child will have to be validated by the legal representatives."

Yn felt her stomach knot. This wasn't a marriage contract. It was a pact. A rigid framework, a perfectly orchestrated setting. And yet Seungmin, beside her, kept a straight face.

At the end of the meeting, JYP spoke up, hands folded on the table.

- "It's not an ideal solution. But in this world, we don't always get our way. This contract won't be a prison... but a balance. So that you can live your life, without destroying everything around you."

Yn's father nodded with satisfaction.

Seungmin, however, turned to Yn and murmured softly:

- "We'll find gaps. Places to breathe."

She looked at him. And in his eyes, she knew he meant it.

The weeks passed at a strange speed - too slow the days of silence, too fast those of preparation. Between appointments at the agency, tailors taking measurements, calls between lawyers, Seungmin and Yn's life slipped into an absurd, almost unreal routine.

The wedding was approaching, but the world didn't really know about it. Rumors had leaked out about a potential couple around Seungmin, but nothing concrete. Fans guessed, speculated, commented... but the agency managed with a firm hand. As long as nothing was confirmed, the truth remained a whisper.

And that morning, for the first time, Seungmin accompanied Yn to her ultrasound scan.

In the white room, an almost sacred calm reigned. She lay staring at the ceiling. He was standing next to her, his jaw clenched. He hadn't said a word on the way. He'd just been there. That was all.

The doctor, a gentle, methodical man, smiled at her as he handed her the cold gel.

- "Let's take a look at this. You're almost 24 weeks, right?"

Yn nodded. She squeezed Seungmin's hand a little. And he, without a word, wrapped his fingers around her.

Then the screen lit up.

The heartbeat. That rapid, vibrant sound, familiar to Yn - new to Seungmin.

Her eyes widened. And when the image appeared, a small profile, legs bent, movements slow but clear... he leaned in, almost breathless.

- "It's..." His voice broke slightly. "Is that our baby?"

Yn gently turned her head toward him, her eyes shining. She nodded, a trembling smile on her lips.

The doctor explained the details, the baby's position, its development. But Seungmin wasn't really listening. He stared at the screen, unable to look away. Then, without warning, he whispered:

- "He's perfect."

Yn closed his eyes. Just for a moment. A moment of peace. A moment of truth. As if the world, for once, truly belonged to them.

And when the ultrasound was over, when she put her clothes back on and they stepped out into the hallway, he took her hand in his, without hesitation this time.

- "I want to be here for all of this. For every moment. Even the scary ones."

Yn turned to face him. He wasn't perfect. He was scared. But he was there. And that was all she needed.

[missstar489]

you know, looking back, "Trouble at the Town Gate" and "Agatha vs. The Jagers" are probably the two sections I end up the most excited to come back to during a reread and i think i just figured out why

Agatha in these moments is starting to embrace her heritage, both halves of it, and use it in her own way

"Hanging Jagers in Town" is always a treat since Yay! Da Boiz! But Agatha, on account of not wanting to blow cover with her big fancy new legacy, doesn't react much. But that night when Jinka attacks to cut Da Boiz down in "Trouble at the Town Gate", thats when she first consciously and willfuly uses the Heterodyne legacy to her advantage by making the Boiz sware on it to do exactly as she says. Dimo commenting that what she did was very smart, Maxum calling her Mistress so quickly, then the Boiz doing just as she asked without any additional damages reinforces to both Agatha and the reader that she did exactly the correct actions to be a Hero and a Heterodyne (especially when you reread and realize what she said and how she said it echos the ritual of the JagerBruw!!!)

By "Agatha vs. The Jagers" she not only feels comfortable enough in her Spark to keep Fuging infront of them but also safe enough around them to bap Maxums hat (which by now she is well aware how important a hat is to Jagers) and also get all Mad Girl right back at Maxum snarling simply because they are bothering her. Once again Maxum reinforces that this was the correct action by imeditly backing off, kneeling, and calling her Mistress again. Then once they explain what they are here for and why they are here and not with the Baron we get to my favorite moment:

Oggie crying on Agatha.

Why is it my favorite moment? Because she holds him (a big scary Jager!), she lets him cry (lets him be weak!), and she only hesitates for a surprised half second in reasuring him that she Is real.

That moment, that "I-I Am" , is when she becomes The Heterodyne to both Da Boiz and me.

Her projection in Sthatlehime, Showtime, the taking of The Castle, the Doom Bell, and her declaration on the roof are all great moments of her asserting her status as The Big Loud Dangerous Heterodyne Spark!

But they don't capture how shes gentle in ways other Heterodyne's wernt, how much she loves whats hers and how much they love her back

For Love and Loyalty you know?

[lipstick-and-libraries]

Lanterns and Lightning Pt. 5

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: When Minho invites you to his family’s prestigious cultural festival, the evening becomes a collision of expectations and vulnerability. As a storm traps you together, secrets unravel, and the line between friendship and something more blurs.

𓋜 Notes:

hello my sweets!

I hope you're still having fun with this series, it's gotten longer now than I ever expected and since it shows that longer series dont seem to do so well I will have this wrapped up in the next 2 chapters or so, but dont think nothing interesting will happen because of that! (and while i do still enjoy this fandom, there will be many more things to come surrounding different interests of mine :) )

I hope you do enjoy this chapter, life is hectic, and this is one escape that makes it better, for me and hopefully for you.

Now buckle in and hold on tight, but most importantly, have fun!! <3

taglist<3:

@finnbbl

@literallysza

@knivesdoingcartwheels

@teaandbacon

@dragonwitchy

@formula1mount

@strayk1ds143

@uhsophiesblog

@iweirdthingsblog

@random-human02

@elizabethgracie

@verycoolmiyah

@mintydump

@shiiiii-okayyyy

@munsonsquinn

@tagakalat

@mirahyun

@cultish-corner

@reiofsuns2001

@chrissy2001

The library was quiet, afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows as Minho and (Y/N) hunched over their project notes. A week had passed since their 'study' night together, and though neither had acknowledged the shift between them outright, the air crackled with unspoken tension. Minho’s knee bounced under the table as he scribbled meaningless annotations in the margin of his notebook, his thoughts spiraling.

(Y/N) glanced up, her pen pausing mid-sentence. “You’ve been staring at that page for ten minutes. What’s wrong?”

Minho stiffened.

“Nothing.”

She arched a brow.

“Liar. You’ve rewritten the same sentence three times.”

He tossed his pen down, running a hand through his hair. His father’s text from that morning burned in his pocket: Bring someone respectable to the festival. No distractions.

The words felt like a noose.

“My family’s hosting this… thing,” he blurted.

“A cultural festival. For my dad’s foundation.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, waiting.

He swallowed, avoiding her gaze.

“I need a plus-one. Someone who can handle the… atmosphere.”

Her lips twitched. “Atmosphere?”

“Formal. Judgmental. My dad interrogating you about your bloodline and GPA,” he muttered, picking at the edge of his notebook.

She leaned back, studying him.

“And you’re asking me?”

He met her eyes then, his throat tight.

“You’re the only person I trust not to bolt when he starts grilling you about your ‘prospects.’”

The silence stretched, heavy and charged. (Y/N) tapped her pen against the table, her expression unreadable. Minho’s chest ached—had he misread everything?

Then she smiled, soft and sly.

“Do I get a fancy dress code?”

He exhaled sharply, relief flooding him.

“Yeah. But I’ll buy yours. If you want.”

She laughed, the sound warm and bright.

“Deal. But only if you promise not to vanish into ‘perfect son’ mode all night.”

Minho’s lips quirked.

“Deal.”

Later, alone in his dorm, he opened the anonymous blog, typing with shaky fingers:

Anonymous: Asked her to step into the lion’s den with me. She said yes. Why does that scare me more than the lions? —M.

Minho stood in front of the mirror in his dorm, adjusting his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. The crisp white shirt and tailored blazer were a far cry from his usual casual attire, but tonight wasn’t about him. It was about surviving his family’s annual cultural festival—a grand event hosted by his father to celebrate Korean heritage and, more importantly, to flaunt the achievements of the Moon family.

“You look like you’re about to walk into a war zone,” Q remarked, lounging on his bed with a bag of chips.

“Feels like it,” Minho muttered, smoothing down his hair.

Dae, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a game controller in hand, glanced up. “Why are you so stressed? It’s just a dinner. And you’re bringing (Y/N), right? She’s cool. She’ll handle your family like a pro.”

Minho shot him a look. “You don’t know my family.”

“True,” Dae conceded, shrugging. “But (Y/N) seems like she can handle anything. She’s got that… vibe, you know?”

Minho didn’t respond, but Dae’s words lingered in his mind. (Y/N) did have a way of making things seem less daunting, even if she didn’t realize it. Still, the thought of introducing her to his parents—especially his father—made his stomach churn.

(Y/N) was waiting outside her dorm when Minho arrived to pick her up. She looked effortlessly elegant in a simple dark red dress, her hair loosely curled and her makeup minimal. When she saw him, she smiled, and for a moment, Minho forgot how to breathe.

“You clean up nice,” she teased, her eyes scanning his outfit.

“You too,” he replied, his voice a little rougher than intended. He cleared his throat. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she said, falling into step beside him.

The ride to the festival was quiet, the hum of the car’s engine filling the silence. Minho kept glancing at (Y/N), trying to gauge her mood. She seemed calm, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dragging her into something she didn’t fully understand.

“So, what’s the deal with this festival?” she asked, breaking the silence. “Your dad’s a big deal, right?”

Minho nodded, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Yeah. He’s… intense. This festival is his way of showing off. It’s all about tradition, excellence, and making sure everyone knows the Moon family is perfect.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fun.”

He snorted. “It’s not. Just… stick close to me, okay?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ve got your back.”

The festival was held in a grand hall adorned with traditional Korean decorations—lanterns, hanbok displays, and intricate calligraphy. The air was thick with the scent of food and the sound of traditional music. Minho’s parents stood near the entrance, greeting guests with practiced smiles.

“Minho!” his stepmother exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she spotted him. She was dressed in a stunning hanbok, her elegance commanding attention. “And you must be (Y/N). It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

(Y/N) smiled politely, shaking her hand. “It’s an honor to be here, Mrs. Moon.”

Minho’s father, a tall man with an imposing presence, stepped forward. His gaze was sharp, scrutinizing (Y/N) in a way that made Minho’s skin crawl. “Minho tells us you’re working on a project together,” he said, his tone neutral but laced with expectation.

“Yes, sir,” (Y/N) replied, her voice steady. “We’re analyzing themes of identity in modern literature.”

Mr. Moon nodded, though his expression gave nothing away. “Interesting. Minho could use the intellectual stimulation.”

Minho clenched his jaw but said nothing. (Y/N), however, didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, Minho’s been a great partner. His insights have been invaluable.”

Minho’s father raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her response. Before he could say more, (Y/N) smoothly redirected the conversation. “The decorations are beautiful. Did you design them yourself, Mrs. Moon?”

Minho’s stepmother beamed, launching into an explanation of the festival’s theme. Minho shot (Y/N) a grateful look, which she returned with a subtle wink.

As the evening progressed, Minho found himself relaxing more than he expected. (Y/N) had a way of diffusing tension, whether it was through her quick wit or her genuine interest in the people around her. She even managed to charm his notoriously hard-to-please aunt, who declared her “a breath of fresh air.”

At one point, Minho’s stepmother pulled him aside. “She’s lovely, Minho. I can see why you like her.”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “It’s not like that. We’re just… friends.”

His stepmother gave him a knowing smile. “If you say so.”

Later that night, as they drove back to campus, the sky opened up, unleashing a torrential downpour. By the time they reached the dorms, the power was out, leaving the building in darkness.

“Great,” Minho muttered, pulling out his phone to use as a flashlight. “Guess we’re stuck here.”

(Y/N) laughed, shaking the rain from her hair. “Could be worse. At least we’ve got candles. You can come over”

They made their way to her room, where Kitty had already lit a few candles, casting a warm glow over the space. “Power’s out everywhere,” Kitty announced, grabbing her bag. “I’m heading to Yuri’s. You two have fun!”

Before either of them could protest, she was gone, leaving Minho and (Y/N) alone in the flickering light.

They sat on the floor, a blanket draped over their shoulders as the storm raged outside. The candles flickered, casting shadows on the walls. For a while, they talked about the festival, laughing over some of the more awkward moments.

But as the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more introspective.

“Your family’s… a lot,” (Y/N) said finally, her voice soft. “But I can see why you care so much about what they think.”

Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. It’s exhausting, though. Trying to live up to their expectations.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “You don’t have to, you know. You’re enough just as you are.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the chest. He looked away, his throat tight. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” she pressed gently.

He hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. “Because… I’ve spent my whole life trying to be perfect. For them, for everyone. But with you… I don’t have to pretend. And that scares me.”

(Y/N) reached out, her hand brushing his. “You don’t have to be perfect, Minho. Not with me.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The storm, the expectations, the weight of everything—it all faded away, leaving only the two of them.

Minho leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he whispered. “And I don’t know what to do with that.”

(Y/N) smiled, her breath warm against his skin. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… be here.”

The storm outside raged on, thunder shaking the walls of (Y/N)’s dorm room as candlelight flickered across their faces. Minho’s confession hung in the air like a live wire, raw and electric. Her hand still brushed his, the touch sending a current through him that made his chest ache.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he repeated, his voice barely audible over the rain. “And I… I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I try.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, her eyes locked on his. The candlelight caught the gold flecks in her irises, and for a moment, Minho forgot how to speak. Her fingers tightened around his, grounding him as the world spun.

“What are you saying?” she whispered, though the answer was already written in the way she leaned closer, her lips parting ever so slightly.

Minho’s pulse roared in his ears. Every rational thought—every fear of ruining their friendship, every warning about his family’s expectations—crumbled under the weight of wanting. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. “I’m saying I’m done pretending. I’m saying I… I need you, (Y/N).”

The admission hung between them, fragile and trembling. Then, with a shuddering breath, he closed the distance.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a collision of months of unspoken tension, a wildfire ignited by the spark they’d both tried to smother. (Y/N) tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips desperate and searching. The blanket slipped from their shoulders, forgotten, as Minho’s hands slid down her back, anchoring her against him. The taste of her—sweet, like the green tea she’d sipped earlier—drove him mad.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Minho rested his forehead against hers, his voice ragged. “I’ve wanted to do that since… God, I don’t even know when.”

(Y/N) laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Took you long enough.”

He huffed a laugh, but his expression sobered. “This isn’t just… a moment, okay? I’m in this. With you.”

She studied him, her gaze soft but searching. “Even if it’s messy? Even if your family—?”

“Especially then,” he interrupted, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

The admission hung between them, fragile and real. (Y/N) leaned in, her lips brushing his in a promise. “Then we’re in this together.”

The power returned hours later, flooding the room with harsh fluorescent light. They stayed tangled on the floor, (Y/N)’s head resting on Minho’s chest as his fingers traced idle patterns on her arm. The storm had quieted to a drizzle, the world outside feeling miles away.

“You should stay,” she murmured, her voice drowsy. “Kitty won’t be back until morning.”

Minho pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The next morning, Minho slipped back into his dorm just as Q and Dae were stumbling out of their rooms.

“Dude, where’ve you been?” Q squinted at him, clutching a cereal bowl. “You look like you got hit by a truck. A happy truck.”

Dae snorted, leaning against the doorframe. “More like a (Y/N)-shaped truck.”

Minho froze, his ears burning. “Shut up.”

Q’s eyes widened. “Wait. Did you—?”

“None of your business,” Minho snapped, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Dae whooped, throwing a pillow at him. “Told you she’d crack him!”

“You’re both insufferable,” Minho muttered, though he couldn’t fight the warmth spreading through his chest.

Later, alone at his desk, he pulled out his phone and opened the anonymous blog. His thumb hovered over the keyboard before typing:

“Turns out, letting someone see the real you isn’t the end of the world. It’s the beginning. —M.”

He hit send, then leaned back in his chair, a quiet smile on his face. For the first time, the future didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like a promise.

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (7)

—  Pairing: Poly Ot7, hoseok x Ot6, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader,

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 4.7k

—  Warnings: Past Emotional abuse, past psychological abuse, referenced mistreatment, referenced sexual manipulation, breakups, brief homelessness, Hoseok has PTSD, hurt/comfort

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(Previous Chapter)

(Yoongi, 1 year and 3 months ago)

Yoongi brings Hoseok home one day. Like a little kid would bring home a stray puppy. Apparently, they work together somewhere.

Namjoon and Jin and the others have long stopped asking what Yoongi does for work, used to his cagey answers. But it’s normal as far as beta’s go. Each of them gives Yoongi his space because they understand that all beta’s need it. They’ve all had the same sentiments shoved on them.

Don’t crowd him. At least he comes home. If it was something we needed to know, he’d tell us. He’ll tell you if you really want to know Koo.

Seokjin’s not really surprised that Yoongi does something with music now, that’s always been his first love (before Seokjin of course) he’s always saying this and that, someone showed me this song during work, do you mind if I play it? It’s stuck in my head. And now because of Hoseok- they know why. 

It’s easy to see how a person could get stuck in your head, the same way a favorite song might. Especially when it comes to Hoseok.

It’s the first time they learn of Yoongi’s occupation in nearly a year. The pack tries not to be jealous that Hoseok knows more about what their beta does during the day than they do. That he gets to spend more time with him. Hours and hours the same way that Seokjin used too.

They work at the same record store that gives Yoongi the freedom to make calls in the back (as long as he pays the owner off. As if that’s difficult at all. The owner is just like all the others, and bows to kiss Yoongi’s feet.)

But Hoseok doesn’t know that. Hoseok is just…Yoongi’s friend. Not his best friend yet but by far the person Yoongi likes the best outside of the pack. The only person who knows him that isn’t pack or family.

Hoseok is perplexed that the others don’t even know where Yoongi works. That he’s never shared it with them and that they don't talk about it. But Hoseok has never been in a pack with a beta- so it’s understandable that he doesn’t know.

It's Taehyung that explains it to him weeks later. "It's not that we don't want to know it's just- hyung likes his privacy and you know- he's a beta."

Beta. It's almost a dirty word. Hoseok doesn't like the way that Taehyung says it. Not when Yoongi makes him feel so clean. Hoseok doesn't have the best first impression of Teahyung in general but if Hoseok was being honest, it's mostly because he's jealous. 

Jealousy is hard to admit. Even more when you’re at your lowest.

The day Hoseok meets the rest of the pack is a bad one. Arguably the second worst day of Hoseok's life (the worst day will come a lot later, about 900,000 words from now but you can be patient, can’t you?).

Hoseok doesn’t know what he would have done if Yoongi hadn’t seen him crying on a street corner outside of their workplace. The young alpha looked wrecked- smoking a cigarette with shaking hands and bloodshot eyes. Holding his shoulders oh so carefully. His heart between them aching with fresh wounds. The kind that takes a lifetime to heal.

Yoongi can never leave anyone to wallow- and he gets the story from Hoseok over a warm cup of hot cocoa in the shitty break room. Eyeing the old telephone and begging it not to ring. And the whole time Hoseok feels like he’s drinking down the beta across from him.

Yoongi smells like hot cocoa, warm and comforting. Comfort that he needs desperately right now.

Under Yoongi’s gaze, Hoseok certainly feels like he’s the one being devoured or judged. Like the weighing of the hearts- will Hoseok be able to weigh enough to be loved? Or will Yoongi find him unsatisfactory just like his last pack? Unable to give enough. Undeserving of any and all affection. 

It takes Hoseok a long time to come clean about it, to tell Yoongi what his last pack has done to him. It takes even longer for the beta to understand. Years and years of friendship and love.

But the short answer comes sooner. Yoongi asks him why Hoseok’s pack kicked him out later that night when he’s curling up in the pack’s apartment. Because Hoseok didn’t have another place to stay and Yoongi wasn’t the type of friend to let Hoseok sleep in his car when they’ve got a perfectly good couch. It feels a bit too much like how Seokjin came into his life. But Yoongi keeps his parallels to himself.

Yoongi asks why Hoseok’s pack dumped him out of the blue. Yoongi honestly hasn’t seen one red flag in Hoseok, and Yoongi would know because he’s naturally suspicious of people.  

Jung Hoseok has always seemed nice enough. They’ve worked together for a few months now. Their banter over records and cd's and old sound systems that honestly weren't worth much is as good as his banter with Jin. His opinions on 90's rap are a little pedestrian sure, but they've both bonded over their mutual love of music quite a bit over the last few months. Enough to be friends. 

"In another life, I think I could have been a producer."

"Really? You strike me more as a dancer." Yoongi had rewarded him with a shitty impression of the worm and in turn, Hoseok had rewarded Yoongi with a bright laugh that's almost better than 99% of the music he's ever listened to.

Almost- he still thinks Stick Season is a perfect album. 

Hoseok is basically homeless. Functionally homeless. He’d be sleeping in his car tonight if it wasn’t for Yoongi. He’s a deadbeat alpha without a pack to call his own. A lone wolf if ever there was one. This morning, just this morning he’d woken up to the apartment empty. Everything but the bed gone. The walls vacant of pictures and the hallways silent of laughter. The lease expired; the keys handed over. Alone and on his own and without a place to sleep tonight.

But thankfully, not for long. Yoongi had found him crying in the rain outside of the record store, dragged him inside, and that was that.

Yoongi’s pack has been so kind to him. Kinder than he deserves, offering a place to stay after a short phone call. Yoongi’s phone lighting up across that small table in the breakroom with approval and invitation’s that Hoseok is almost too insecure to accept. Almost.

But he does need a place to stay.

Standing in the doorway of the pack’s apartment. He shouts apologies and thank you’s to anyone who will listen while two of Yoongi’s packmates help carry in his boxes and the other three finish clearing a corner of their spare bedroom for him. (Hoseok does deserve it, it's just his stupid and shitty internal monologue that has him convinced otherwise.)

They set him up in his own space down the hall from the pack’s bedroom. Half a reading room with a cot and the other side occupied by an honestly massive pile of clothes. Hoseok doesn’t mind- it smells good in here. Like their fresh-smelling fabric softener but also a little bit like the inside of a sweet shop with how sugary everyone smells. 

Not like his scent, his old pack mates had always told him he smelled like sugar burning, caramel, Heavy on the burn. 

Hoseok has maybe three plastic bins full of clothes to his name that act as a side table to the single bed. Apparently one of Yoongi’s alphas (the one who smells like cinnamon and pepper) likes to stay up late and read in here instead of keeping his pack mates up with a reading light. Ownership of this space has easily been transferred to Hoseok. They’d made this small space for him. Although the books were taken out regardless of Hoseok's mutable protests not to make a fuss for him. He didn’t need much space.

Hoseok can’t remember the alpha's name or remember if he’d even heard it. They’d called him darling so much that it might just as well have been his name. Jealousy chafes and Hoseok's never been a good enough alpha to receive that kind of affection. He’s never earned that kind of pet name. 

It had been a bit of a slap in the face to see the two omegas treat that alpha with such a kind hand, ruffling his head and loosening his tie for him. Being tactile with him in a way that Hoseok had only ever dared to dream about. Now he and Yoongi sit on the edge of the small bed that smells like that alpha; an appropriate distance away on the too-fluffy blanket and Hoseok- Hoseok just feels so touch starved it hurts.

He won’t get casual affection like the other alpha did, least of all from Yoongi. He’s the beta- the desirable one. Maybe in the next life he can be reborn as a beta, so he’ll get that easy affection. It seems only right when he’d been denied it so much in this life. Hoseok has had the hope burned out of him; he doesn’t have much faith in this this- that things could change enough to accommodate what he wants.

Yoongi’s eyes are warm in the half-light, so warm even if the question is so cold.

"Why did they dump you anyway?" 

Hoseok’s hands play with the blanket, thick and fluffy. “I don’t think they ever really wanted me, just an alpha.”

“All omega’s?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighs.

It’s hard to admit when Hoseok had tried so futilely to earn their love for so many years. But he vomits out the words now, begging Yoongi to understand. “As long as one of them wasn’t in heat they basically just ignored me. They’d make me go on suppressants for my rut so that I didn’t have them, but they were making me sick. When I told them I wanted to go off of them and spend my rut with them- they cut me off- and said no one would want to deal with an alpha who has ruts as bad as mine. That I was asking for too much.” The tremble in Hoseok’s hands is a near thing, covered by Yoongi’s and a reassuring squeeze. “I just wish they’d done it directly instead of leaving a note.”

Yoongi looks nearly breathless. “They didn’t have the balls to tell you to your face?”

“No, and remember, all omega’s.”

Yoongi rolls his tongue against the inside of his teeth, it feels…special, and important. Having someone angry on his behalf. Hoseok hasn’t had anyone angry for him and not at him in a long long time.

“What a bunch of assholes.”

A day ago, Hoseok would have defended them, now, he’s just silent.

Internally, Yoongi snorts and thinks that no one's ruts can be worse than Jimin’s. He still has bruises from the last time- hickeys shaped like a literal heart on his happy trail hidden by his thick sweater. But he has more pressing issues right now as he watches the gentle tears drift down Hoseok’s cheeks. Hoseok’s hands tighten on the coverlet.

“Hyung, was I? Was I asking for too much?”

Hoseok sees Yoongi’s jaw roll again, and the beta goes from smelling like chocolate to smelling like the ocean entirely, the sweetness dimming. Yoongi smells like the ocean at night when he's angry, salt and hidden brine. So at odds with his chocolate scent. So opposite. Beta's always smell a little despondent. Their happy and sad scents never match up. Hoseok’s almost sorry he asked.

“No Hobi. You weren’t asking for too much at all.”

Yoongi pulls Hoseok’s head to rest against his shoulder. Letting him stay there until Hoseok’s tears have dried and his sobs have become little hiccups.

That night Hoseok sees the two omegas kiss each of their pack mates on the forehead. They spend special time with the pack alpha. They linger in the hallway outside of the spare bedroom, door open because it’s not Hoseok’s door to close. Completely aware that he’s there, that he’s watching, and yet the pack alpha does nothing about it.

He- Namjoon- is a happy sandwich between the two omegas’, with a hand on either side of their waists. He smiles good-naturedly at Hobi from the doorway and tells him he can stay as long as he wants too.

Wants too, not needs. Namjoon is very careful with his words. Generous with them.

Hoseok doesn’t understand why they’re treating him so well. Namjoon’s alpha instincts must be screaming at him to not let a stranger get close to his omegas or his pups (he’s heard him, and his omega refer to the three youngest as such- it’s an affectionate title, similar to calling someone ‘baby’).

It would be natural for them to feel uncomfortable with a stranger in their den. But Hoseok never senses any distaste from Namjoon nor from the other two alphas- Taehyung (darling) and Jimin.

Hoseok hardly sleeps that night, tossing and turning, nose itching from all the new scents echoing from down the hall. He gives up sometime after 4 am, quieting the restlessness in his bones in the one way he knows how.

By being useful.

Namjoon usually wakes up first. He has to be at the hospital by 7 am for his shift and waking up early has always been difficult for the alpha. He almost walks into the wall, the thud resonating in their apartment. Blinking dimly when he looks at the spread stretched out before them on the dining room table tucked into the corner of the kitchen. Hoseok smiles and finishes wiping off the counters with a beaming smile.

He hopes it’s enough. 

“Good morning! I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you letting me sleep here- I’m not the best cook but breakfast is my-” Hoseok’s smile fades when he takes in Namjoon’s wide eyes. The alpha blinks away his sleepiness in the doorway. Before rubbing at his eyes like what he’s seeing can’t possibly be real. “Specialty…”

Hoseok is panicked, all but ringing his hands. “Of course you don’t like it- oh my god did I overstep? I’m sorry pack alpha I know this is your den I shouldn’t have been so-”

  Stupid . Hoseok had fucked up. Again. He’s barely been here for 18 hours. Must be some sort of record.

Before Namjoon can answer Seokjin stumbles out of the bedroom nearly hip-checking Namjoon. Not expecting the alpha to be just standing there dumbly. He’s pretty tall for an omega. Both of them a bit uncoordinated especially half asleep. Namjoon almost trips, Seokjin catches him. “Don’t bump into any more walls I’ve got you I’ll make coffee in a second just let me-” he blinks too, stopping. 

Hoseok has made Omurice and cinnamon toast with sugar. A plate of poached eggs and a bowl of cut bananas and strawberries. Creamy hollandaise sauce too. Pancake batter is in the works, the coffee pot already gurgling. Ready to be pipped out at request. And the dishes, the dishes are already done and on the drying rack. The table set for seven people.

Hoseok even had time to water Tae's plants. a plant collection that will nearly triple in size in the next few years because Namjoon won’t be able to resist giving them to Hobi. A gentle alpha. An alpha like him- that likes to see things grow. There will be bonsai trees and cyclamens and itty-bitty orchids from trader joes. Everything that grows will point to Hoseok. Like a sunflower tilting in the direction of the sun.

“I have a bit of a green thumb. I hope you don’t mind. I noticed your pithos was a bit dry.” Seokjin can’t help but look at Hoseok and think that taking care of things for someone is it’s own special type of flirting.

Dimly, Seokjin remembers last night, quiet questions over dinner, “do you like to cook Hoseok-shii?”

“Not really, I’m really good at making breakfast foods but everything else is sort of out of my depth omega-shii. If you want, I can do the dishes?”

“Please, call me Hyung, everyone else does, and the dishes can wait for the morning. You’ve had a tough day, you deserve some rest.”

The two of them blink and blink at Hoseok stunned that the alpha has made them a full breakfast. And did it so quietly. None of them are heavy sleepers (besides Yoongi and Jungkook) Namjoon doesn’t know how he didn’t hear anything. 

The alpha is quiet, stealthy almost. And Jin’s heart hurts when he thinks of why that might be. Even now, the alpha struggles to meet Jin’s eyes. He doesn’t have the same problem with meeting Namjoon’s.

Seokjin all but pushed the pack alpha in his direction.

A few minutes later Hoseok tries to hide his shy smile as Namjoon and Seokjin both let out simply pornographic moans at the taste of Hoseok’s food. Sitting on either side of him, Namjoon piles his plate high with food. “I'm only really good with breakfast food, I can’t make anything else.” But neither of them seems to hear him. Seokjin pouts down at Hoseok, a little bit of runny egg yellowing the corner of his mouth. Narrowing his eyes.

“Can we keep you?” 

Namjoon's words are muffled by the 6th pancake of the morning, hunched over his plate. "phfuck off he's phmine." 

Hoseok falls into their pack easily. It's not all romantic at first.

He walks with Tae home and helps Jimin with the laundry. He cooks breakfast and wears Seokjin’s apron and helps do the dishes. He likes being helpful. He goes on runs with Jungkook every morning to keep an eye on him- in case he has an episode while he’s running. He’s the only one who can really keep up with the youngest. He’s the one who has the idea of getting Jungkook a smartwatch to track his heart rate and therefore his seizures. All of them connect their phones to the app and check-in. Especially when they don’t want to bug Jungkook but still want to make sure their precious youngest omega is okay.

Even if Hoseok is wary of omegas in general given his history; he’d never let the younger suffer through it alone.

Yoongi’s only known Hoseok for a couple of months and still- He’s the jumpiest alpha that Yoongi’s ever met. He puts Jimin to shame (Jimin’s job keeps him so on edge, the tenseness that he only loosens when he comes home). Flinching especially around Seokjin and Jungkook. But every inch of him goes calm when Yoongi is in the room.

Yoongi had noticed the same thing in the record store.

The Flinching, the tentativeness, the fear that lurks underneath Hoseok’s skin. That only points to one thing. Hoseok checks his phone obsessively the first few weeks but then less as time goes on and Yoongi thinks good.

Good, they didn’t deserve you.

Hoseok never brings up any physical abuse that he might have suffered at the hands of his old packmates. Hoseok won't even say their names, still too trauma-ridden that all he can say is ‘this one’ or ‘that one’ or ‘the pack omega’ when Yoongi asks him about his old pack. Usually on their late-night drives when their hands tangle over the center console and Hoseok feels safe enough to talk about them. 

He'll feel safe enough to talk about them with the others too eventually, but it takes baby steps to incorporate him into the pack. He still can't even say their names and after the first few months as they fade from relevancy, Yoongi doesn’t ask.

All in all, that’s probably a good thing, Yoongi had half a mind to track them down and orchestrate some sort of accident for them otherwise. But if you could manage to hurt a person like Hoseok, as sunshiny and as genuinely good as he is, they must be twice the monsters that Yoongi is. It’s probably for the best that Hoseok never mentions them by name.

Names have weight.

At work, The record store owner’s beady eyes flicker from Yoongi to Hoseok. He notices when they start to come and go from the shop together. And he starts to sync their shifts. Anything to keep someone from the Min family happy. Maybe Yoongi would carry that good opinion back to his grandfather and lead to better business. Yoongi knows the owners motives and as much as he hates to admit it- It’s nice to lean into Hoseok on their walk to the subway, to sit close and share a pair of earbuds while they scroll through some YouTube videos.

He and Hoseok have a lot of the same interests. But as time goes on- Yoongi starts to get a little worried about Hoseok’s proximity to Yoongi’s job- the one he doesn’t talk about with anyone in his pack. Hoseok just assumes he does acquisitions and inventory for the store owner, which is why he’s constantly ducking into the backroom whenever the old phone rings.

It was the same way at the coffee shop, but Hoseok and Seokjin never knew to compare notes.

Sometimes the family needs more from him than a simple phone call, and Hoseok is too close to it now. It’s easy to lie even if Yoongi hates lying to his packmates. He tells Seokjin that he has to work and tells Hoseok that he doesn’t. And it’s easy to slip away. 

Usually, Yoongi finds himself at a hotel or to a different part of the city, far away from his packmates. Yoongi hates meeting in person but sometimes it can’t be avoided. Often times the rooms he enters are too fine and expensive for his tastes. Chandeliers dripping with diamonds and fine velvet interiors at odds with his ripped jeans and old band t-shirts that make him feel wholly out of place. 

Yoongi’s conducted these meetings in so many places, in the back of limousines, the back rooms of bars and clubs, a pool on top of the city's most expensive apartment complex, and even once an underground bunker. Anywhere and everywhere. It helps that most people are willing to travel for him- since Yoongi is firm on his decision to not leave his city.

The secretaries at this hotel eye his appearance like he’s nothing but street trash. Which, granted, he is. But he’s beta street trash and that makes all the difference.

“The reservation should be under Min.”

That gives them a start usually, a subtle widening of eyes, hands fumbling for the phone to call the hotel director.

“I take it they’re already expecting me?” 

On the days that Yoongi actually tends to his day job, he does a good job keeping an eye on the record store owner. If only because Hoseok has such a proximity to him. Yoongi’s noticed whenever the owner comes into work a lot more people frequent the store. And he’s seen him slip small bags of white powder into the sleeves of records before. But Yoongi knows how to keep quiet about that sort of thing. And Hoseok has so much on his plate that he never notices.

The rest of his pack doesn’t mind stepping around Hoseok when it’s clear he’s having a bad day. They come less frequently as time goes on and soon, he feels just as comfortable curling up with the omegas as he does with the alphas. But the adjustment is slow, he meets Jin’s eyes only sometimes. Sidesteps Jungkook’s teasing. Bows under the weight of Namjoon’s hand on his shoulder.

The adjustment is slow but noticeable. He play wrestles with Jimin, with Taehyung. Ducks his head under Jin’s fussing but doesn’t out right reject it. He takes the packed lunch and a sleepy scent mark without gnashing his teeth and growling. Far from it- he blushes.

But the first time they invite him into their nest Hoseok looks like they’ve just doused him with a bucket of icy water.

“I’ve never been in a nest before, at least not outside of a heat." Jungkook flinches, and Jin hisses. Hoseok pales before Jin’s had the chance to realize his mistake. But still, the border gets pushed back. And Hoseok waits. Taking one step closer than anther before he gently puts a knee on the border.

It hurts them that he sits in it- rim rod straight. Worried that he’s going to be booted out of it for messing up the edge or accidently spreading his scent in it. But Seokjin and Jungkook just surround him with their favorite nest-making items and sit chest-to-chest with him. Hoseok shivers with every easily given touch. Through his hair, over his shoulders, on his scent glands round and pudgy at his neck. Jungkook kisses into his mouth soft and sweet. 

“Love it when our nest smells like you Hoseokie.” 

It takes them a while- but eventually, he opens up to the others about his old pack. How poorly they treated him. He names specifics that have Jin hiding his mouth, that have Namjoon’s hands tightening on the back of the chairs. That make Jimin grit his teeth and growl. That have Tae folding his book and tossing it to the side in favor of pulling him in.

To them, he’d been an add-on- nothing special. The only alpha in a group of four female omegas.

Comparatively, their pack feels more balanced now with two alphas for each omega. When Jungkook and Seokjin’s heats eventually come he’s very happy to take the lowest spot in their hierarchy even though he’s the oldest alpha. He doesn’t know how to be a good alpha he says (though he’s never done anything wrong) Namjoon needs to show him.

But it’s just reassurance that Hoseok needs and that’s easily given. Hoseok is so honestly happy to please. 

He’s everything to them- the most special and desired person in their beds and in their lives. Jung Hoseok is the one to wake them up with coffee in the morning, and also the one who tries to say every night, “you don’t have to do this, really guys I’m good.” Even when they know having his back rubbed is his favorite way to fall asleep. They pet his hair until the touch-starved shivers subside into happy grumbles, the alpha version of an omega purr. They love how shivery and cutely hazy he gets when they shower him in affection.

Things are good, for a while- they're so so so good. Things get so good that Hoseok almost forgets.

Almost.

~-~

(Yoongi, 124 days before).

But someone always leaves, someone has to go first- it’s just the way things are.

They just never expected it to be Yoongi.

It happens when Yoongi least expects it, after a group date with the seven of them. It's probably the last truly warm day of the summer, warm enough that it has them all escaping on a Sunday to go to the ocean again- Hoseok's favorite place. The sand sticks to Yoongi's bare feet. His ankles are cold. Fall is just on the horizon. Not far now.

Yoongi's phone rings and he walks away from their big picnic blanket to take the call. Jimin’s laugh rings in his ears, almost drowning out the sound of the ocean and the person on the other side of the phone.

Hearing fluent unaccented Korean is so jarring through the speaker that Yoongi almost misses it. He's so used to Jimin's slight drawl, Seokjin's crisp syllables, the way that Taehyung sounds as he flips from English to Korean and back again words and grammar all tangled.

He'd forgotten what his family sounds like when they talk.

“Harabeoji is dead.”

Yoongi's blood goes cold, and his hands start to shake. They don’t say anything else before they hang up, but they don’t need to. The message is clear. Yoongi is well trained. Yoongi is a good pup, a good beta. He knows to come when called.

“What is it Yoongi? Is everything alright?” 

Yoongi schools his face into a neutral expression while his pulse roars in his ears as he turns around. “I’m perfectly fine Jinnie. Nothing is wrong.” He lies effortlessly. The words couldn’t be further from the truth. 

(Sometimes, people leave not because they want to- but because they have to).

(Next Chapter)

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Honestly this is another chapter where the title??? Why am I even bothering with chapter titles??? I mean I love them but half of them are! Not right and I don’t know how to fix it (yet) I feel like this chapter being the bumblebee chapter is too on the nose. (edit, I did actually go back and change this just a few days later.)

- Reading this I’m reminded that everything is up to interpretation. And I think because we see this scene again a lot later in this story. this is what happened from Yoongi’s perspective and later- that’s from Hobi's pov you know?.Just trust me if you look at them next to each other it makes sense that this one you’re seeing right now is a biased view.

- Some of Hoseok’s chapter feels a little bit fanfictiony, but I don’t hate it, like I think that I’m trying to hit somewhere in the middle of a published book and a fanfic, it doesn’t need to be one or the other right now.