#I WANT HER I NEED HER PLEASE JUST ONE CHANCE

[bonus-links]

Ruins pt 16 please 🥺

OUGH YEAH THIS ONE

I wanted to give Loft a chance to explain a little bit of his ideology around what being the capital H Hero means to him. Despite all his misgivings about having his life orchestrated for this purpose, he 100% would do it all again, no questions asked. He firmly believes at this point that being the Hero and wielding the master sword is still a blessing. I also think from his perspective, if it really is true that Demise is going to curse this land forever, it's imperative that there's always a Hero willing to take up the mantle. Slate doesn't want the title, but to Loft he's already doing the action, and that makes him worthy of the sword. They're, like. fundamentally disagreeing on what being "the Hero" even means.

Also, having Fi as a companion was really important to him. I think it brought him some comfort to think that future heroes would have that too. To find out that they didn't, and that one even 'rejected' her entirely really upsets him.

also, if you don't actually need the sword to defeat the great evil, the whole thing kind of falls apart, right? Remember, nearly Loft's ENTIRE journey revolved around forging the sword for this exact purpose. What did he do all that for, if you don't need it in the end?

as a sidenote, slate definitely has more than '6 hearts' worth of health lol, not that I'm taking that literally. this was just kind of visual representation of the sword sapping his strength. I think it's interesting that while this isn't the only game that locks you out of pulling the sword until you're strong enough, it is to my knowledge the only game that hurts you for trying if you're not.

Slate's first champion sighting! Whether or not Champion is trying to stop him here or finally letting the sword go is up for interpretation, but if you ask me it's kind of both. Also, for the record, only Slate saw him.

bro is fucking flabbergasted. he 100% did not expect to actually pull the sword. world view altered. Slate genuinely did try multiple times, before ultimately resorting to the nuclear option of facing Ganon without it. He went into the fight with the expectation that he would probably fail and die. To pull it now, after everything is said and done is,,,,frustrating to him. To severely understate it.

the koroks all cheering with loft 😭

i think this is my favorite slate I have ever drawn.

I think Loft had definitely hoped for a little bit more of a reunion with Fi here. This chime is the only indication she's there, and even then he's not sure.

[eupheme]

— you’re the one that I want

worst!wolverine/logan howlett x f!reader

tags: soulmate au, roommate!wade & neighbor!f!reader, valentine’s day fic, blind dates, use of alcohol, flirting, light misunderstanding, semi-public makeout

rated m - 2.6k

a/n: my submission for the loveuary challenge hosted by the wonderful @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt! thank you so much, this was so fun 💘

“You really think there’s anyone worth my time at that shithole?”

Wade gasps in offense.

“Sister Margaret's is a New York institution. If America’s Sweetheart was a bar, she’d be it.” His eyes narrow, voice lilting as he adds, “Besides, you really want to miss out on the chance to meet your soulmate?”

“No fucking way.”

Wade’s groan stretches long, as his head lolls against the back of the sofa.

“Logan. Peanut. My sweet cheese, my good-time boyeh, please-” His voice strings out the syllables, “I need you to do this for me. I already set it all up, all you gotta to do is go.”

Logan’s scowl deepens, with a sharp jerk of his chin, “I’m not fucking going.”

A sigh then - Wade’s legs stretching wide, as he springs to his feet. Circling around to where Logan leans against the counter, looking every bit rooted to the apartment as the thing growing in the corner of their shared shower.

“I need this. I am finally back on track with Vanessa, and this is a real chance for me to knock it out of the park.” A finger raises, before poking him in the chest, “But I can’t have Mr. Grumpy Gus cramping our style. You feel me?”

An eyebrow arches up, but Wade barely pauses for a breath, “Besides, would you really stand a girl up on Valentine’s Day? Don’t you know what that could do to her psyche? What if that was her thirteenth reason? You really need that on your conscious?”

The filthy scowl Logan shoots him is like a three claw punch to the gut. Wade at least has the decency to look ashamed - fingers splaying wide in placation.

“Just give it a shot. If it all goes south you can just come right home. I won’t even be mad, even if it’s mid-coitus. Pinkie swear.”

The visual makes Logan’s lip curl. Arms crossing over his chest, as his head tilts, “You really think there’s anyone worth my time at that shithole?”

Wade gasps in offense.

“Sister Margaret's is a New York institution. If America’s Sweetheart was a bar, she’d be it.” His eyes narrow, voice lilting as he adds, “Besides, you really want to miss out on the chance to meet your soulmate?”

Wade misses the sharp look Logan shoots his way. His tone still teasing, missing just how deep his comment thrums through him.

How it meant something different in his world, rather than the shallow note of connection it seemed to mean here.

It didn’t matter, anyways. There’s only one person in the city he might not mind seeing, and surely you would have other plans.

Logan’s seen your recent date, stopping by the door down the hall in the evenings. Doesn’t much care for his goody-two-shoes vibe, the State University tone.

The memory sends his skin itching. An urge to move - and it’s enough that his arms are loosening.

Deep down, he really doesn’t want to stick around. Had been planning on hitting up a bar, anyways.

Can’t take much of this lovey-dovey shit, never been one of his favorite holidays.

And if his drinks are on Wade’s tab, then…

He’s sure he can let whoever the poor girl is down quick.

“Yes. Yes! Thank you, bestie.” The resignation must flick across his face, because Wade’s fist pumps with triumph, “This is gonna be great, I promise. Even better than the Tony Awards.”

Logan ignores another asinine reference - a final warning leveled his roommate’s way, as his hand curls around the doorframe.

“You got thirty minutes.”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Wade grins.

“That’s twenty-nine too many.”

The heel of your boot bounces underneath the booth. Fingernails drumming on the surface of the sticky table, trying to keep your eyes from flicking to the door each and every time it opens.

This was stupid.

You don’t know how you let Wade talk you into this.

Sister Margaret’s was not your idea of a place to meet someone - romantically, at least. And therefore, the chances of this evening going well were historically low.

But it’d beat your second year of ordering in - the prices hiked up with the holiday. Of another movie marathon alone, picking apart the sordid end of your last relationship.

Anything was better than that, surely.

You’re double-checking your phone for the third time, confirming the text noting which booth to be in - the back left corner one next to the totally-not-a-bloodstain on the floor - when a shadow passes over the edge of your table.

Eyes catching on the flannel that creeps into your vision. Worn, in shades of brown and muted red - a slow drag upward across a broad chest, then higher. Your breath catching, as your mind whirrs - racing catching up.

You should tell your upstairs neighbor “hi”.

Something that resembles polite, normal conversation.

But you can’t seem to find the words.

Because as he slips into the booth, you’re quickly realizing he might just be here for you.

What you do find is -

“Is this a joke?”

Logan’s frown deepens.

A snarled out “what?” that sends a jolt though you, but you’re too confused to examine it. Left babbling, trying to make sense of this.

“Is this because I told Wade he’s a winter?” Your voice pitches higher, “Because his photo was really blurry, and I don’t even do that kind of color analysis-”

Logan scoffs, a hand braced on the table as if to push himself up. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, before he’s asking, “Why would this be a joke?”

Your lips part.

“Because-”

Because you’re here in the hopes of finding someone else. A distraction.

Unsure what to make of this magnetic feeling deep inside your chest when you see him. Having to hold yourself back from taking one step, and then another, when he lingers near the mail room.

You had hoped tonight would help you erase the man that surely does not even know you exist.

“…because I’m sure you have better things to do then uh, do this.”

“This?” He hedges, a brow arching.

“A blind date.”

Something in his eyes flicker, when you finally meet them. The little mark between his brows deepening with the rough rasp of his voice. ”You really didn’t know who you were meeting?”

“No,” Your head shakes, “No. Did you?”

His eyes drop for a beat, before they flick back up.

“No.”

Your tongue dips out to dampen your lip, and you miss the way his eyes track the movement. The question slipping from you without thought.

“Would you have come, if you did?”

The silence stretches out, tipping towards uncomfortable.

And yet, he does not leave. A leather jacket still slung across the back of the booth, as his fingers tap the table.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” He deflects. “You want another?”

Logan’s head dips towards your drink, only the glittery dregs of red remaining, a cherry nestled against the ice.

Your shoulder lifts, about to answer that you probably shouldn’t. That you’ve already made enough of a fool of yourself.

His lips curl at the edges, before you can voice your answer. ”Wade’s buying. Thought we could make a dent in his wallet.”

“Oh.” The word draws out, as your smile stretches.

So, not a rejection.

It might just be an invitation, actually.

“Definitely.”

It’s not how he thought his night would go.

Should have peeled himself away twenty minutes ago, somewhere between your second and third drink and the wind of conversation.

Slunk back home, or to another bar.

Had thought about it, in that moment when you confessed that you hadn’t known he was meeting you.

The thought of it being a disappointment turning his stomach, until you had voiced your question. The hope that wound its way between your words.

Unable to answer, even if he knows what it would have been.

The alcohol flickers inside him, a brief respite to the burn of sore muscles and a bone-deep ache that he’s carried since his world.

Should stop drinking this shit, but he’s been taking it a day at a time. Swapping rubbing alcohol for anything with a kick. That for vodka. Vodka for beer.

It’s not progress, but it’s something.

The feeling never sticks around, but something about you almost mirrors it. A wash of calm as his chin cups in his palm. Senses narrowing down, blocking out all the noise around him.

Eyes snagged on the curl of your lips around the white straw, the pink tinge of gloss left behind.

Helpless, to the tug at his arm as you loosened. The point of your finger to the empty dart board, how he had followed two steps behind.

You’ve missed a handful of your throws. Two darts stuck between the numbers running around the rim. His lips twitching at the frown that pulls down the corner of your lips, the hand that braces at your hip.

“So, did Wade guilt you into coming?”

Your fingers brush his, as you hand over the darts.

“You could say that.” He grunts, eyes slipping towards the board. Still catching the scrunch of your nose, as he amends, “But, like I said. Didn’t know.”

It’s not an answer to your question before, but it’s something that tip-toes close to one. It’s enough that your expression softens - an excited touch against his shoulder when his throw flies true.

“Same.” Your fingers curl against his shirt, transfixed. Hazy - those walls around you from before unstacking one brick at a time, “Almost didn’t go. But you know Wade, and his puppy-dog eyes.”

Logan didn’t.

“-and I uh, thought it would be nice. To not be alone, this year.”

He missed his next throw. A side-eye shot your way.

“Alone?” The word comes out close to a scoff.

Can’t pretend it hasn’t been eating at him. Wondering what the hell Wade had been playing at, inviting you.

“Figured you’d be out with your boyfriend.”

The last dart sinks into the green rim around the red center.

“Very funny.” You hum, stepping up to take his place. A glance over your shoulder, to find him still watching you.

That frown back, as your head tilts.

“I really don’t know who you’re talking about.”

He wished he hadn’t asked. Should have just stayed silent, taken this night for what it was.

“Thought I’ve seen a guy around the last couple weeks.“ Logan hands shove into his back pockets, “Just figured…”

Your expression persists. His fingers tap his temple, “Grey streaks, suit.”

As if he doesn’t have some of his own.

“Oh!” Recognition flickers, as you spin back, “Definitely not boyfriend. He’s like, super married.”

Your shot flies wide, bouncing off the wooden walls behind the board - a little huff as you turn back, “They’re due to have their first in a couple months. Been helping them pick things out for the nursery.”

A finger pointed back towards yourself, in explanation, “Figured I could help. Interior designer, and all.”

Something like relief flickers in his chest. Another feeling - deeper, hungrier - almost drowns it out.

The words smooth, as they slip from his lips.

“No guy, then?”

The shake of your head is slow, and that sweet smell that clings to you curls around his senses. Thickens, even - betraying you.

It gives him the confidence to step into your space. Emboldened by the look you give him from beneath the thick fan of your lashes. Hope, burning once again in blown-dark pupils.

“Here.”

A hand touches at your hip, as he eases closer. Plucking the dart from limp fingers.

“You’re holding it too far back. Lemme show you.”

He never gave a damn about this game, but he’ll take any excuse to get closer. To feel the way you stiffen beneath his fingertips, the hitch of your breath.

The shot is lined up.

His wrist extends as he aims, chest brushing against your back, and suddenly - your palm curls around his forearm. Fingers splaying wide as a jolt arcs through his nervous system, shooting from his hand to his core.

Your words muted - it’s only his enhanced senses that have him catching the tail end.

“-like me.”

He makes a rough sound, and again you turn to face him. The prick of goosebumps as your finger trace the dots at his wrist.

“I said you have freckles like me.”

The knitted cuff of your sweater tugged back to show him how yours mirrors his, down to the very last mark.

Time stands still.

Logan’s dreamt about this moment for decades.

Using that little crisscross of dots like a compass.

Guiding him through life - thinking there had to be something about the mansion, its symbol, that tied it to him. Taking on the mantle that mirrored the shape, ink-like against his skin.

Thinking it would lead him somewhere.

Even if he’d been certain he had missed it, somewhere in those two-hundred years. Ships passing in the night, across a lifespan that has stretched far too long.

Always trying to push away those “what ifs”. Had stopped looking a long time ago. Never once, since he’d crossed over. Told himself he was luckier not to have a match.

Not to know love like that - because one day he’d have become acquainted with the loss of it, as well.

He’s had enough of that, in his lifetime.

And this - it’s not what he ever expected.

Finding you in a world that’s not his own. His match with a girl, living on the floor just below his.

It leaves him mute, as your eyes linger.

Not sure what to make of him, he’s certain. Of the part of his lips, his own heart hammering beneath his ribs.

Unsteady, for the first time in decades.

His name pulls him out of his thoughts. Cherry-sweet on your tongue, lilting into a question.

The dart is thrown by muscle memory.

Your fingers still pressed against his mark, as it hits dead center.

He takes his prize, back in the shadowed corner of the booth.

Your eyes already slipping shut, when his fingers tuck under your chin. Lips parting, and he finds himself grateful again for those animal-senses.

Permission in the galloping of your pulse beneath your skin. The held breath as you wait, balanced on the knife’s edge of anticipation.

The soft inhale of breath, when his mouth slants against yours. Fingers curling in his shirt once more, as you part for him.

Swallowing your moan, with the sweep of his tongue. Sweet - grenadine syrup blending with you, and it’s like he cannot get enough. The kiss drawing out, insistent and hungry - a shuddering breath when it finally breaks, as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Pliable, in the way he tugs your thigh over his, seating you in his lap. How you follow, so easily.

Fitting against him as if you were meant to.

And maybe you were - the thought sending his fingers tightening, where they grip at your hips.

As if he won’t let you go, now that he’s found you.

You’re right there with him. Just as affected - your palms smoothing over his chest. Tracing the chain biting into his neck, sinking into his hair when they loop around his shoulders.

Letting your hips rock - a tentative movements, paired with the softest sighs.

Growing bolder when you feel him beneath you - how he encourages it, with the press of his palms. The tips of his fingers slipping under the hem of your sweater, a pulse of pleasure at the way you shiver with his touch.

The second gift of his name, and it’s the one he’ll remember most. Drawn-out. Needy, and it only makes him want to hear it more.

Another breath huffed out, a heady throb against the too-tight confines of his jeans.

There’s the crack of a pool cue, a cheer rising at the table across the room.

The bubble bursts.

Bringing him back - even in this dim corner, it’s still far too public for everything he needs to do to you tonight.

A shared thought, your lips kiss-swollen as they press against his neck.

“Can we go home?” You husk, into the shell of his ear.

Something deep inside him purrs at the word. Possessive, wrenching a growl from deep in his chest as he carefully eases you off him.

Pushing himself up from the booth - a hand coming to wrap around your wrist.

Thumb pressed against your pulse, feeling it thrum beneath your skin once more.

Right against your mark.

He’ll tell you tomorrow.

He’ll have time - he’s always had that.

Never been grateful for it.

Not until now.

thank you again, lub and kiwi! I am so excited to check out the fics for your event, and happy I was able to contribute one! I’ve wanted to write a soulmate fic for some time, this has me 👀💖 about writing more!

[shiiro-arts]

Hi! I really love your posts. I wanted to ask can you please go into more detail about how you think Lucy acts more hyperactive compared to Natsu when they are alone. You said that in an older post and I wanted to get your take on that in more detail because it makes sense and I never really thought about it until you said it!! Thank you so much!!

Of course!!!

Okey, so I want to start with this picture:

Natsu gets calm and relaxed arround Lucy, this is not a headcanon, or the fandom being delusional, it's straight up facts.

With a relaxed state of mind comes how one really behaves, and with Natsu, it's extremely obvious.

We can compare it to how he acts with everyone else in the guild versus Lucy (when they are alone)

Here he was alone with Gray FOR 3 DAYS, and the only thing they did was fight (I'm not saying they don't have a good relationship, they have a very healthy rivalry)

Gildarts:

Erza:

This second pic just shows how even erza knows that his first instinct would be to fight her given the chance:

Laxus:

And anyone in the guild really

Now, I know that the people I showed are people Natsu admires, people he wants to defeat in the future in a fair fight, but that doesn't mean he can't have real relaxing moments with them, for example, Erza. She is like his older sister and Natsu glorifies her, but he doesn't see her as someone he can relax with like he does with Lucy.

In other words, Natsu uses the guild to vent.

While Lucy is his safe place.

I, personally, believe that Natsu uses his fights in the guild to make a point. To make people see that he is reliable, that's why he keeps challenging the strongest guild members.

I'm not saying he doesn't think lucy is strong, he just doesn't WANT to fight her. Actually, not only he doesn't want to fight her, he can't, at least not willingly.

The guild does know that he is strong, they just remind him that he is just not there yet, he has the potential, but he needs time, and while this is true we have never seen Lucy doubt Natsu's strenght. She ALWAYS thinks that he is going to win, no matter what, no matter who he is against. Lucy completely believes that he will win no matter what.

Natsu uses his time with Lucy to actually relax, he doesn't see the necesity to fight Lucy, since she actually believes that he is the strongest, she has absolute blind and complete faith in Natsu, giving him what he actually needs, rest.

The reason why I say she seems more hyperactive compared to Natsu is not because she necessarily is, it's just that Natsu can actually relax with her, making her seem more hyperactive.

When both of them are relaxed, they look like a god damn family

Sorry for going all out with the pics, I just love them so much

[arilevenatz]

Outscored 𝟏┃C.JH

Pairing: jock!Jongho x Reader

Genre/trope: enemies to lovers au

Word Count: 25.7k (💀) [it's gonna be a 2 parter]

Warnings: biker jongho (need I say more?), he is also a bit annoying, but he becomes a MAN at the end

AN: Ok I'm a sucker for jongho, u guys know it. And after he posted his picture I had a seizure. And I kinda slipped and wrote this whole thing. And yeah this is for all the jongho girlies out there like me. Please please please love this as I spent a lot of time writing this!

This is part one. Read part two here-

one | two

The brisk winter air nipped at YN’s cheeks as she stood at the entrance of her new college. The towering brick building seemed almost menacing in the gray morning light, but she pushed the uneasiness aside. This was her fresh start—a chance to prove herself in a new environment. With her books clutched tightly to her chest, she took a deep breath and walked inside.

The first few days were a whirlwind of introductions, lectures, and navigating unfamiliar hallways. YN quickly found herself bonding with Hanni, a bright and cheerful girl who seemed to know everyone. Hanni made the transition easier, guiding YN through the social intricacies of the campus.

By the end of the week, YN noticed something odd. Every time a certain group walked down the hall, conversations died, students avoided eye contact, and some even went as far as turning around to take another route. She spotted them from a distance—eight guys, each exuding an air of dominance that seemed to make the air thicker. They moved like a pack, and the energy around them was impossible to ignore.

"Who are they?" YN finally asked Hanni during lunch, her curiosity outweighing her hesitance.

Hanni’s face turned serious as she glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. “That’s Ateez,” she whispered. “They’re…well, the jocks of the college. Everyone fears them.”

YN frowned. “Why?”

“They’re not just athletes. They’re...intense. If someone so much as looks at them the wrong way, things don’t end well.” Hanni hesitated, lowering her voice further. “I heard someone got sent to the hospital last year because of an argument with one of them.”

YN’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Hongjoong is their leader. He’s smart but scary. Seonghwa, his second-in-command, always has this calm but intimidating vibe. Yunho and Mingi are the muscle—you don’t want to get on their bad side. San and Wooyoung? Absolute chaos, always ready to start something. Yeosang is quiet, but people say he’s the sharpest one of them all. And Jongho…he’s the enforcer. If Hongjoong gives the word, Jongho makes sure it’s done.”

YN’s stomach twisted uneasily. “They sound like villains in a movie.”

Hanni shrugged. “It’s best to steer clear of them. Just focus on your studies and don’t give them a reason to notice you.”

YN didn’t respond to Hanni’s warning, opting instead to stay quiet and let the conversation drift to safer topics. Deep down, she wasn’t sure how she felt about this so-called fearsome group. They sounded like trouble, but she didn’t see how avoiding them would be difficult—she wasn’t the type to get involved with people like that anyway.

Later that afternoon, YN walked into her next lecture, the chill of the earlier conversation still lingering. She found her usual spot near the back of the classroom, quietly unpacking her notebook and pen. The room slowly filled with students, but the air shifted when a group entered.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Whispers and nervous glances rippled through the class, and her pulse quickened.

For the first time, YN let herself take a cautious look. There he was—Jongho. He was hard to miss, even without the murmurs. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried an aura of icy indifference, his sharp jawline and piercing gaze giving him an almost unapproachable air. He wore a simple hoodie, but somehow, it only emphasized his muscular frame.

YN quickly looked away, her heart pounding. So this is what Hanni meant. She had shared a class with him all week but hadn’t even realized it. She must have been too absorbed in adjusting to the new college life to notice.

Jongho took a seat a few rows ahead of her, close enough that she could see the subtle tension in his posture. He didn’t speak to anyone, his focus completely on the empty whiteboard at the front of the room. He radiated a coldness that seemed to push everyone away, yet she noticed how other students carefully avoided sitting near him.

Deciding to stick to her original plan, YN ignored his presence, keeping her eyes firmly on her notes throughout the lecture. But as the weeks passed, it became harder to pretend he wasn’t there. He was in more of her classes than she’d realized, and his presence was impossible to miss.

Jongho never caused a scene—he was silent, focused, and distant. Yet there was something about him that made her uneasy. He wasn’t just another student. There was a weight to him, a quiet strength that made the air feel heavier when he walked into a room.

And whether she wanted to admit it or not, YN was beginning to notice him more and more.

Jongho had never paid much attention to his classmates. He came to class, did what was required, and left—never lingering or engaging unless absolutely necessary. To him, school was simply a task to complete, something to cross off his list.

But one day, during a particularly grueling economics lecture, something caught his attention. The professor had asked a question—a tricky one that made most of the class go silent, their heads sinking lower to avoid eye contact.

And then, she spoke.

"Isn’t the answer related to the supply-demand equilibrium in a perfectly competitive market?"

Her voice was calm and self-assured, and when Jongho glanced up from his notebook, he saw her. She sat near the back, her expression thoughtful as she explained her reasoning. The professor nodded, impressed, and praised her for her detailed response.

Jongho’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t even considered answering that question—it had seemed too abstract to bother with. Yet, there she was, providing answers with ease.

At first, he shrugged it off. Maybe she just got lucky. But over the next few classes, he noticed it happening again. The professor would pose a difficult question, and before anyone else could muster the courage to speak, she’d answer it. Every time.

It started to bother him.

Jongho prided himself on being one of the smartest students in his classes, even if he didn’t flaunt it. He hated drawing attention to himself, but deep down, he knew he was sharp—more than capable of holding his own against anyone. Yet this transfer student, who barely even seemed to acknowledge anyone in the room, was constantly one step ahead.

“Who does she think she is?” he muttered under his breath after one particularly frustrating class.

From then on, Jongho found himself paying closer attention to her. He wasn’t sure if it was out of curiosity or sheer annoyance, but he started to notice little things about her. The way her hand shot up the moment a question was asked. The quiet determination in her eyes as she scribbled down notes. The slight smile she gave when the professor praised her responses.

It wasn’t just that she was smart—she was confident in her knowledge, and it was infuriating.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt like someone was challenging him. And he didn’t like it.

The buzz around campus was electric when the exam results were finally posted on the bulletin board. Students crowded around, eagerly scanning the list of names and scores. YN was among the last to approach, her usual calm demeanor giving way to quiet excitement.

When she finally found her name at the very top of the list, her heart soared. She had done it—topped her first major exam at the new college. Her efforts, countless late nights of studying, and meticulous note-taking had paid off.

Hanni squealed in delight when she saw the results. “YN! You’re at the top! I told you you’re a genius!”

YN laughed, the joy bubbling up inside her. “It’s just one exam, Hanni.”

“Doesn’t matter! You crushed it!” Hanni grinned and tugged her arm. “We’re celebrating. There’s this cute cafe nearby—my treat!”

They walked to the cafe, the chill of the winter day melting into the warmth of good company and coffee. YN felt proud, her confidence growing as Hanni hyped her up about her success.

But across campus, in a quieter corner of the library, Jongho wasn’t in such a celebratory mood.

He stared at the results list on his phone, his jaw clenched. Second place. He’d never been second. Not once. For as long as he could remember, his name had always been at the top. It was his thing—the one thing no one could take from him.

But now, there it was. YN. A name he hadn’t even bothered to remember until recently. The transfer student had dethroned him, and it stung.

Jongho closed his phone and leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His mind replayed the last few weeks: her quick answers in class, the way she always seemed to know everything, her calm confidence. He had brushed it off at first, but now it was clear—she wasn’t just smart. She was better than him, at least academically.

And Jongho hated losing.

“She’s just a transfer,” he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the irritation. “It’s probably beginner’s luck.”

But the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. It wasn’t just the results—it was the way she seemed so unaffected by everything. While he was stewing in his frustration, she was probably out there celebrating, not even thinking twice about the fact that she had knocked him down.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt something unfamiliar—a mix of annoyance and determination. He wasn’t about to let this stand.

“Fine,” he thought, his jaw tightening. “Let’s see how long she can keep this up.”

Jongho's frustration only grew as the weeks turned into months. Every test, every quiz, every exam—YN was always at the top. It didn’t matter how much he studied or how hard he tried to reclaim his spot. Her name remained above his, and it gnawed at him.

His friends noticed the change in him.

During one of their usual hangouts, Wooyoung nudged Jongho with his elbow. “You’ve been acting weird lately. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Jongho muttered, not bothering to look up from his phone.

San leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Don’t tell me it’s about those scores again. You’re still stuck on that, aren’t you?”

“I said it’s nothing,” Jongho snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s definitely something. You’ve been sulking since those results came out. What’s the deal with her? Did she do something to you?”

Jongho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, she didn’t do anything. She just—she keeps beating me. It’s annoying.”

Yeosang, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “So what? You’re not used to competition?”

“It’s not just competition,” Jongho muttered. “It’s like…no matter what I do, she’s always one step ahead.”

The room fell silent for a moment before San shrugged. “Then maybe talk to her. Figure out what she’s doing that you’re not.”

Jongho scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, like I’m going to go up to her and ask for advice. She’s the reason I’m in this mess.”

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew San had a point. He couldn’t keep letting this get to him. If he wanted to understand why she was always on top, he’d have to confront her eventually.

Two months had passed since the first exam results, and YN’s streak hadn’t faltered. Every high score, every bit of praise from the professors only added to Jongho’s growing frustration. He’d tried ignoring it, tried telling himself it didn’t matter, but the truth was, it did.

He finally decided he couldn’t take it anymore. After class one afternoon, as the students began to trickle out of the lecture hall, Jongho stayed behind, his eyes fixed on YN as she packed her things.

She was just about to leave when he stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over her desk.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and steady.

YN looked up, surprised to see him standing there. “Oh, hi.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had spent so long stewing in his own thoughts that now, face-to-face with her, he felt unprepared.

“You’re YN, right?” he finally asked, even though he already knew the answer.

She nodded, her expression curious. “Yeah. And you’re Jongho.”

He was slightly taken aback that she knew his name, but he didn’t let it show. “We need to talk,” he said, his tone firm.

YN blinked, clearly confused. “About what?”

“About how you keep getting the highest scores,” he said bluntly. “And why you’re always ahead of me.”

Jongho froze as YN’s words echoed in his mind.

"Maybe it’s because you’re not studying enough."

She had said it so casually, so effortlessly, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking out of the room, leaving him standing there like a statue.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the empty doorway. Then, something inside him snapped. A laugh escaped his lips, low and disbelieving at first, before growing louder.

When he walked out of the lecture hall and joined his friends, they immediately noticed something was off.

“Uh…why are you laughing like a maniac?” Wooyoung asked, leaning away from him as if Jongho had finally lost it.

“Did you finally crack under the pressure?” San teased, though there was genuine concern in his voice.

Jongho shook his head, the grin still lingering on his face. “She told me I don’t study enough,” he said, almost in disbelief, as if saying it out loud would make it sound less ridiculous.

Wooyoung blinked. “Wait. She said that?”

“The nerve,” San muttered, shaking his head.

Mingi, who had been quietly listening, tilted his head thoughtfully. “So…do you want us to talk to her? You know, scare her a bit? Make her think twice before pulling that again?”

Jongho’s laughter stopped abruptly. His expression hardened, and he gave Mingi a sharp look. “No.”

“No?” Wooyoung echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Jongho repeated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not stooping to that level. I don’t need to threaten her to get what I want.”

“But she insulted you!” Wooyoung said, throwing his hands in the air.

“She didn’t insult me. She just…” Jongho paused, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words. “She got under my skin.”

Yeosang, who had been leaning against the wall silently, finally spoke. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Jongho exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to beat her.”

“Hold up man what-” San frowned.

“In the next exam,” Jongho clarified, his eyes narrowing with determination. “I’m going to study harder than I ever have, and I’m going to take that top spot back. She thinks I’m not studying enough? Fine. I’ll show her exactly what I’m capable of.”

His friends exchanged glances, a mix of curiosity and concern on their faces.

Wooyoung leaned closer to San and whispered, “I give him three days before he snaps again.”

But Jongho ignored them, his mind already racing with plans. This wasn’t just about pride anymore. It was about proving to himself—and to her—that he was the best.

When Hanni heard what YN had said to Jongho, she nearly dropped her phone in shock.

“You told Jongho—the cold, terrifying Jongho—that he doesn’t study enough?” Hanni exclaimed, pacing back and forth in YN’s dorm room. Her voice was a mix of disbelief and panic, her hands flailing in the air.

YN, sitting calmly on her bed, shrugged as she sipped her coffee. “Yeah, I did. It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Hanni stopped pacing and stared at her friend like she had grown a second head. “YN, you don’t just say that to someone like him! Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? This is Jongho! The guy who could probably crush someone’s desk in half with his bare hands!”

YN smiled slightly, setting her cup down. “You’re exaggerating. He’s just another student, Hanni. Besides, it’s not like I insulted him. I gave him constructive criticism.”

“Constructive—YN, are you listening to yourself?!” Hanni groaned, clutching her head as if she could physically hold in her frustration. “I’m scared for you! What if he gets mad? What if his friends get involved? They’re not exactly known for handling things peacefully.”

“It’s fine,” YN said, her tone steady. “I don’t think he’s the type to do anything rash over something like this. He seems too...proud for that.”

“Proud?” Hanni snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”

YN chuckled softly, leaning back against her pillows. “Look, Hanni, I appreciate you worrying about me, but it’s not a big deal. He’ll get over it. If anything, maybe it’ll motivate him to work harder.”

Hanni sat down heavily on the edge of YN’s bed, her arms crossed. “I hope you’re right. But if he so much as looks at you funny, I’m grabbing your hand and running for the hills. Got it?”

YN laughed, nudging her friend’s shoulder. “Got it. But trust me, I can handle myself.”

Hanni gave her a wary look but eventually sighed in defeat. “You’re way too calm about this. I don’t know whether to admire you or scream at you.”

YN just smiled, her confidence unwavering. Little did she know, Jongho wasn’t the type to let something like this go unnoticed—and he had no intention of backing down.

Jongho's determination was like a fire, burning through his focus as he buried himself in his books for weeks leading up to the next exam. He studied longer, harder—pushing his limits. He felt the tension, the pressure building in his chest every day. The thought of losing to YN again fueled his resolve. This time, he would prove he was the best.

But when the results came in, his stomach sank.

There it was again—YN's name at the top. Not his.

He clenched his jaw, staring at the paper with frustration boiling inside him. He had done everything right. He had pushed himself to the breaking point. And yet, once again, she had beaten him.

This time, it was different. This time, it wasn’t just about pride. Jongho could feel something snapping inside him, the pressure and disappointment manifesting as a tight ball of anger in his chest.

That day in class, he couldn’t focus. The words the professor spoke seemed distant and irrelevant, his mind consumed by the crushing weight of defeat. As he stared at the floor, barely registering the lecture, one of his classmates—someone who had clearly noticed his mood—decided to test him.

The guy leaned over and smirked, a sharp edge to his tone. "So, Jongho, how does it feel to be second to a girl? Maybe you should quit studying and leave it to the real people, huh?"

The words hit Jongho like a punch to the gut.

Before he could even think, he stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor. His hands balled into fists. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. The guy barely had time to react before Jongho stood up, took the guy's phone, slammed it to the ground, and crushed it under his boot.

The silence in the classroom was deafening.

But it wasn’t over.

Once class was dismissed, Jongho stormed out of the building, his anger blinding him. He found the guy outside, lurking near the campus gates, laughing to his friends about how "easy" it was to get under Jongho’s skin.

Jongho didn’t hesitate. He charged at the guy, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him against the nearest wall. The punches came fast and brutal, each one landing with a sickening thud.

The guy didn’t stand a chance.

It wasn’t until he was gasping for breath, barely conscious, that Jongho stopped. His knuckles were bloody, his anger slowly subsiding as the reality of what he had done set in.

When word of the fight spread through campus, it didn’t take long for YN to hear about it.

She had been in the library when a group of students started whispering, talking about how Jongho had beaten up some guy for talking trash about him. Her stomach twisted, and an unease settled in her chest.

The image of the cold, calculating Jongho she had always seen in class—silent, intense, and distant—was nothing compared to the picture that now formed in her mind. The guy had provoked him, sure, but it didn’t make the violence any less jarring.

That night, as she walked back to her dorm, her mind was racing. Jongho had never struck her as the violent type, but now she wasn’t so sure. The thought of him losing control scared her in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

YN leaned against the door of her room, her hand lingering on the knob. She wanted to shake the unease off, tell herself it was just a one-off thing. But a part of her couldn’t stop wondering what else lay beneath the surface of his cold exterior.

For the first time, she was genuinely afraid.

And as she lay in bed that night, trying to push the thoughts away, one question lingered in her mind: What would happen if he ever lost control around her?

The tension between YN and Jongho had been building for weeks, and it finally reached a boiling point. The news of the fight still fresh in YN's mind, she couldn't shake the unease every time she saw Jongho. His cold, imposing presence was something she'd learned to ignore—until now.

It was an ordinary afternoon when she walked through the halls, lost in thought, heading to her next class. The campus was quieter than usual, most students already in their lecture halls. As she turned down a less-traveled corridor, she froze. Jongho stood at the far end, his broad frame blocking the only way out.

He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her with that unreadable expression. YN’s heart rate quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. She could feel the familiar tension rising in her chest, the uneasy flutter of anxiety that crept in whenever she had to face him. But this time, it felt different. She could sense that something had shifted.

She instinctively took a step back, her back pressing against the cold wall. Jongho’s eyes flickered for a moment, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a scowl. He started walking toward her, each step deliberate, the weight of his presence sending a chill down her spine.

"You really think you're better than me, huh?" Jongho's voice was low, almost menacing. His height loomed over her as he stopped just inches away, trapping her between his muscular frame and the wall.

YN’s breath caught in her throat, but she held her ground. Her legs were tense, her mind racing for a way to escape this moment. "I didn’t say that," she replied, her voice shaky but firm. "I just did my best. It’s not my fault you can’t handle it."

Jongho’s eyes darkened, his arms leaning on the wall beside her, the air between them thick with a charged tension. "You think it’s just about scores?" he growled. "You think I care about that little competition? You’re making me look weak, YN. And I don’t like that."

YN's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her fear and anger mixing into a potent cocktail. I have to stand my ground, she thought. I can't let him intimidate me like this.

"You don't scare me, Jongho," she said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. Her words were quieter than she wanted, but there was strength behind them. "If you have a problem with me, then deal with it without resorting to violence."

The moment she said it, Jongho’s smirk widened, a flash of something darker crossing his features. "Oh, but I do have a problem with you. You think you can just waltz in here and take what’s mine, huh? You think you're better than me because you’re smarter? You think you can just walk around untouched?"

YN’s breath quickened as she realized how cornered she truly was. She had thought she could handle him, but now, with him standing so close, all she could feel was the overwhelming presence of his body. The intimidating way he leaned into her personal space, his arms just above her shoulders, blocking any escape.

"I’m not afraid of you," she said again, though she could feel the doubt creeping in. She was scared—terrified, even—but she refused to let him see that.

Jongho leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from hers. "You should be," he whispered. "You’ve made me look like a fool twice now. You’ve gone and crossed a line, YN."

For a split second, she could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Was he going to hurt her? Was he finally going to break the calm facade he always wore? But before she could react, something in him shifted, and his grip loosened just slightly.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to leave her with a sliver of space. The tension didn’t fully dissolve, but it was a temporary reprieve.

The silence between them was thick, each of them locked in their own thoughts. YN’s mind was racing. What just happened? She had stood up to him, but had it been enough? Would he let this go, or would this feud only escalate?

Jongho finally straightened up, casting one last look at her. "You’re not getting away with this, you know," he muttered before turning and walking away.

YN let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her legs were trembling, but she stood tall, refusing to let herself appear weak in front of him.

This was only the beginning. She knew that now. The rivalry between them had officially begun, and it would take everything she had to survive it.

The tension between YN and Jongho simmered beneath the surface, manifesting in small, irritating ways at first. It started with the little things—her pens went missing, her notes rearranged in ways that made no sense, and every now and then, she’d find her books out of order. At first, she thought it was just her imagination, or maybe even her own forgetfulness. But the longer it went on, the more she began to suspect that it wasn’t just random.

Then, one day, she was walking between classes when one of Jongho’s friends—Mingi, she recognized him from class—deliberately bumped into her, causing her to drop her bag and its contents. Papers scattered across the hallway, and YN scrambled to collect them, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Oops, sorry,” Mingi said, his tone dripping with false sweetness, though his grin said otherwise.

YN said nothing, biting her lip and standing up straight, trying to keep her composure. She quickly gathered her things, but as she bent down to pick up the last few papers, she saw the same smirk on his face, as if he were enjoying the scene.

It was deliberate, she thought, clenching her jaw as she stood up.

She could feel his gaze still on her as she gathered the rest of her things in silence. But she didn’t let it show—she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. When she walked away, she could sense his eyes lingering, but she kept her head high.

The following week, she arrived in class to find her desk had been vandalized. Not in a big, obvious way, but enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth. There were scribbles in the margins of her textbooks—crude drawings, insults, and even a few threatening words that made her skin crawl.

Jongho.

She didn’t have proof, but there was no mistaking it. She could feel his influence, like a shadow following her at every turn. And the worst part? It wasn’t just him. It was his friends, too. They were all in on it—targeting her, testing her patience, pushing her to the edge. They’d figured out how to get to her without crossing the line too far.

The final straw came one afternoon when she sat down at her desk and found her pencil case had been emptied out. It wasn’t just the pens this time; it was everything—everything scattered across the floor. When she picked up the pieces, her hands trembling, she saw a note hidden inside.

"Better luck next time, genius."

Her blood ran cold.

This time, it wasn’t just annoying. It was personal.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her fists clenching. She could take a lot of things—insults, small pranks—but this was pushing it. This was harassment.

YN’s mind raced with determination as she walked through the campus, every step firm and resolute. The pencil case incident had been the last straw. Jongho and his friends had pushed her to her limits, and she wasn’t going to let them get away with it any longer.

She had been debating it for days, but now she was certain—she had to confront him, face to face. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. Hanni had tried to stop her, pleading with her to let things go. But YN couldn’t back down. She couldn’t let herself be intimidated. Not anymore.

She entered the cafeteria with a clear purpose, scanning the room until her eyes landed on him. Jongho sat at the head of a table, surrounded by his friends, laughing and joking as if everything were normal. The sight of him made her blood boil, but she didn’t hesitate. She walked straight up to the table, her steps loud and deliberate.

When she reached the center, she slammed her hands down on the table, the sound of it echoing through the cafeteria, drawing the attention of everyone around. The chatter died down, all eyes on her. Jongho’s friends froze, surprised by the sudden boldness. YN stood there, staring at Jongho with unwavering defiance.

"Stop these pathetic games and face me like a man!" she declared, her voice strong and clear.

The room fell silent, everyone waiting for Jongho’s reaction. His friends exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what to expect, while Jongho himself leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, everything felt frozen. Then, slowly, Jongho stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. His height towered over hers, and for a second, the sheer difference in their sizes was almost comical. He was a giant compared to her, and yet, there she was, standing tall and not backing down.

He studied her for a moment, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. His lips curled into that familiar, confident smirk. "So, you want me to face you, huh?" he said, his voice low but full of challenge. "Well, I guess I can give you what you want."

His friends were stunned, clearly not expecting YN to show such boldness. Some of them exchanged worried looks, while others couldn’t help but chuckle nervously.

Jongho didn’t look worried, though. He stepped closer to her, his towering presence making her feel even smaller. Yet, YN stood her ground, refusing to let her fear show.

“You’re brave,” Jongho said, his voice rough, but there was something almost impressed in it. "I’ll give you that." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “But be careful what you wish for. You really want me to face you, YN? You sure about that?”

YN didn’t flinch. She locked eyes with him, her heart pounding in her chest. "I’m sure.”

For a long moment, they just stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. The tension between them was thick, palpable. It wasn’t about the score anymore, not about the pranks or the harassment—it was about proving who had the upper hand.

Finally, Jongho broke the silence. He stepped back, crossing his arms. "Alright, YN. You’ve got my attention," he said, his voice cold but not dismissive. "You wanted me to face you. So I will."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and YN’s pulse quickened. This wasn’t over. It was only just beginning. She could feel the shift in their dynamic now, the lines of the feud being drawn more clearly than ever.

His friends remained silent, watching the exchange with bated breath. Jongho didn’t seem like he was going to back down either, and YN knew this wouldn’t end easily. But for the first time in a long while, she felt empowered. She had stood up to him, and he hadn’t crushed her. That meant something.

With a final glance at Jongho, YN turned away but not before she threw one last remark over her shoulder.

"I’m not afraid of you.”

The moment YN turned to leave, feeling the adrenaline of her bold confrontation, she felt a sudden, strong grip on her wrist. Before she could react, Jongho yanked her back with ease, his hand tightening around her wrist as he dragged her out of the cafeteria.

"Hey!" YN protested, trying to pull away, but his grip was unyielding, his strength overwhelming. She tugged harder, her steps stumbling as she struggled to break free, but it was no use—Jongho was far stronger than she could have imagined.

The cafeteria had fallen silent, all eyes still on them, but Jongho’s friends were the only ones who seemed unfazed. They continued their conversation as though nothing unusual was happening. It was clear to YN now—their group operated on a different set of rules, and no one dared challenge them.

Jongho didn’t look back, his focus entirely on pulling her out of the building. "Stop resisting," he muttered, his voice low and commanding. "If you wanted to talk, you should've done it differently."

YN’s heart raced in her chest. She had expected a confrontation, but not like this. Being dragged out of the cafeteria, humiliated in front of everyone—it was more than just a challenge now. It felt like an outright power play, a move to remind her of who really held the control.

“Let go of me!” she shouted again, trying to wrench her arm from his grip, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he pulled her toward the exit, his jaw set in a hard line.

Once they were outside, the cool air hit her face, but the storm in her chest only grew stronger. She was angry, more than she had been in weeks. She had finally stood up to him, and now he was treating it like some twisted game.

Jongho stopped in the middle of the empty courtyard, releasing her wrist abruptly. YN stumbled slightly, but caught herself before she could fall. Her hand instinctively rubbed where his grip had been, the sting of it still fresh.

"That’s the problem with you," Jongho said, his voice cold, but there was an edge to it now. "You think you can just challenge me like that, without consequences? You think you can walk in here and take everything, without anyone pushing back?"

YN glared at him, her pulse still racing. "I didn’t want to take anything. I just wanted you to stop being a coward. To face me without all your games."

Jongho’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew more intense. "You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about you and me. This is about who owns this place. Who holds the power."

He took a step closer to her, towering over her as usual. The same sense of intimidation that had always been there was present now, but something in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper—made her pause for a second.

"What happens next, YN? You think you can win this? Because right now, you’re just poking the bear, and trust me, you don’t want to go any further." His voice was dangerously calm, like he was warning her—threatening her.

For a moment, YN’s breath caught. She had been so focused on proving herself, on standing up to him, that she hadn’t considered what would come next. She had no idea what kind of person Jongho really was, and now, facing him in this quiet courtyard, she realized just how deep the game went.

But despite the fear clawing at her chest, she wasn’t ready to back down. Not now. Not after everything she had endured.

"I’m not scared of you, Jongho," she said, her voice unwavering. "You want to play? Then let’s play. But I’m not going to let you intimidate me anymore."

Jongho stood there for a long moment, studying her as if trying to figure her out. Then, without another word, he turned and began to walk away, his back to her.

But as he reached the entrance to the building, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

"You’ll regret this," he said quietly, his voice carrying an almost unrecognizable note of warning. "You have no idea who you're dealing with.”

YN stood there, watching him go, the weight of his words sinking in. But even with that warning hanging in the air, she wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

She had made her choice. And from here on out, she would face the consequences.

The days following their confrontation marked the beginning of something far more sinister than YN had ever anticipated. What started as small pranks—missing books, random notes, pens vanishing from her desk—soon escalated into something far more calculated. Jongho wasn’t just trying to annoy her anymore. Now, it was as if he were playing a psychological game with her, testing her limits, breaking her down bit by bit.

At first, it was subtle. During class, Jongho would sit behind her and drop her textbooks just enough to cause a distraction, so she’d lose her focus. When she turned around, he’d act like it was an accident, offering a lazy apology that barely sounded sincere. The worst part was, he didn’t stop when she asked him to. Instead, the “accidents” seemed to happen more frequently, each one wearing her down, bit by bit.

Then came the whispers. At lunch, when YN walked into the cafeteria, she’d overhear Jongho’s friends whispering just loud enough for her to catch snippets of conversation. They’d talk about her in the most degrading way, not even bothering to hide it, knowing she could hear. She’d try to ignore them, but every word they said lingered in her mind. They called her a nerd, mocked her for thinking she could take on Jongho. But what stung the most was when they started to question her sanity, insinuating that she was unstable, that maybe she was imagining things.

The insults didn’t end there. As days passed, YN would arrive at her locker to find it had been vandalized again—her carefully written notes defaced with sarcastic messages, her books covered in nonsensical drawings, and sometimes, there would be personal remarks, comments that hit too close to home.

She was starting to feel it—the isolation. The feeling that she was being targeted by something darker than just school pranks. Every time she walked into class, she could feel eyes on her. Jongho’s eyes. He had made it clear that he enjoyed the game, that he enjoyed seeing her squirm.

But what was worse was how it started to affect her. She’d find herself unable to concentrate in class, the constant weight of his presence in the background. She started second-guessing her every move, wondering if her classmates could see the cracks forming in her façade. Her hands trembled when she reached for her books, and she found herself waking up in the middle of the night, heart racing, thinking she’d heard footsteps outside her door, as if he was watching her even when she wasn’t at school.

One afternoon, after a particularly brutal round of pranks in class, YN was heading to the library to get some quiet time. But as she turned the corner, she froze. Jongho was leaning against the wall, blocking her way. His usual smirk was replaced with something darker, a glint in his eyes that sent a chill down her spine.

"Thought you could escape?" he said softly, the words hanging in the air like a threat. "You’re mine now, YN. You’re not going to get away from me that easily." His tone was low, but there was a certainty to it, a finality that made her stomach twist.

She took a step back, trying to ignore the panic rising in her chest. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice shaky despite her best efforts to remain calm.

Jongho pushed off the wall and walked toward her slowly, his steps measured. "I want you to understand who’s in control," he said, his voice quiet but full of malice. "You don’t get to come in here, challenge me, and expect it to end like a fairy tale. You want to keep playing? Fine. But you better be prepared to lose. And when you do, I’ll be here to remind you."

Her heart raced as he took another step forward, his presence looming over her. There was no escape, no way to fight back. He had already won in ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. She stood frozen, a mix of fear and anger coursing through her veins.

She didn’t say anything more as Jongho turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with her heart pounding in her chest. The quiet moments after he left felt more oppressive than any of the pranks or insults he’d thrown her way. She could feel the weight of his words settling on her, knowing that he had marked her as his target, and there would be no way to avoid his wrath.

Jongho was playing a game, but this time, it wasn’t just about winning or losing. It was about control—and he was determined to make YN realize just how powerless she truly was.

The day had come. YN could feel herself on the edge, the constant psychological torment, the pranks, the whispers, the humiliation—it had all built up to this moment. Her hands shook slightly as she sat in class, trying to focus on the lecture, but her mind was clouded with frustration. She had been walking around with a constant knot in her stomach for weeks, dreading every moment she stepped into class, every glance that was thrown her way.

Jongho had been especially persistent that day. The moment she sat down, he was there, taking his usual seat behind her. His presence felt like a weight pressing down on her, and she could almost feel his eyes on her back, waiting for the perfect moment to start.

Then, it happened. Just like every other time, he shook her desk, hard enough to make her papers tremble and her drink teeter dangerously on the edge. But this time, something inside her snapped.

Her hand gripped the cup tighter than she realized, the warmth of the coffee almost burning her palm, but it didn’t matter. In one swift motion, she turned around and dumped the entire contents of her coffee on Jongho’s desk. The liquid splashed across his notes, seeping into the wood and staining everything in its path. The room went completely silent.

Jongho froze, his expression blank for a moment, as the coffee soaked into his things. The other students in the class watched in shock, unsure of how to react. YN's breath was coming fast and ragged, her heart racing in her chest. She had done it. She had finally snapped.

Jongho’s face twisted in anger, but there was something else in his eyes—surprise, maybe even a flicker of respect. He looked up at her, his jaw clenched.

“You think this is funny?” he growled, his voice low, dark with frustration.

But YN didn’t flinch. She didn’t back down. The tension in the room was palpable, but for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of control. Her voice came out calm, but her eyes were fiery.

“Do you think this is funny, Jongho?” she shot back, her words sharp like daggers. “Do you think it’s funny what you’ve been doing to me all this time? The pranks, the insults, the mind games? You think I’m just going to sit here and take it? Well, I’m done.”

The class was dead silent, no one daring to speak. Jongho didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slowly stood up, towering over her. His friends, who had been silent spectators until now, shifted uneasily in their seats, glancing at each other.

"You’re really testing me now, YN," Jongho said, his voice controlled but filled with an edge that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "You think this is the end of it? You think dumping coffee on my desk will make me back off?"

YN stood her ground, her posture strong, though inside she could feel a storm brewing. “Maybe it won’t make you back off, but it’ll make you think twice. You’re not invincible, Jongho. And I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

He stared at her for a long moment, the anger and frustration in his gaze palpable, before he finally spoke again, his voice low but cold.

"Don’t think this is over," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "You just made it worse for yourself."

But YN didn’t care anymore. She had finally spoken up, finally taken a stand. For the first time, she wasn’t the quiet, submissive girl she had been before. She had fought back, and even though she knew things were far from over, a small part of her felt empowered.

As Jongho turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, YN stayed seated for a moment, her heart still racing. She didn’t know what was coming next, but she knew one thing for sure: she wouldn’t let him control her anymore. She had drawn a line in the sand, and this time, she wasn’t going to let him cross it.

As YN and Jongho stood there, the tension between them thickening with every word exchanged, neither of them willing to back down, the professor’s voice cut through the silence like a sharp knife.

"Enough," the professor said, standing up from behind the desk. "Both of you, stay after class. You're clearly not focused on the lesson, so you're going to stay behind and finish your homework together. You’ll leave once you both complete it. Understood?"

The class seemed to hold its collective breath, eyes darting between the two of them. The professor’s order caught both YN and Jongho off guard, but neither could afford to challenge it. Both were still seething from their confrontation, their tempers flaring, but the professor had made it clear that there would be consequences if they didn’t comply.

Jongho shot YN one last, heated look, his jaw clenched tightly, before muttering under his breath, "This isn’t over."

YN didn't bother to respond. She was too exhausted, emotionally and mentally, to keep fighting. Instead, she gathered her things quickly and retook her seat, ignoring the whispers that started circulating through the room. Jongho, reluctantly, sat down beside her, though the air between them was still thick with animosity.

The professor, seemingly unfazed by the tension between the two students, resumed the lesson, but the entire class was distracted by the palpable conflict unfolding before them. Time dragged on as YN tried to focus on her work, her hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline that still buzzed in her veins. Her eyes kept darting toward Jongho, who was scribbling furiously in his notebook, as though the homework could somehow take his mind off the encounter.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, but the professor gestured for them both to stay. The students filed out of the room, leaving just the two of them alone, and the silence between YN and Jongho grew even more awkward. Neither of them spoke as they began working on the homework, the atmosphere charged with tension.

For the first few minutes, it was clear that neither was ready to engage in any form of conversation. YN focused on her paper, trying to ignore the weight of Jongho's presence beside her. But every now and then, she felt the heat of his gaze, the intensity of it making her skin prickle. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was still watching her, trying to figure out what she would do next.

Eventually, the silence became unbearable. Jongho broke it, his voice low but dripping with frustration.

"This is your fault, you know," he muttered, his pen tapping against the desk in agitation. "If you hadn’t made a scene, none of this would’ve happened."

YN didn’t look up from her paper, her focus unwavering. She had long stopped caring about his blame. "I didn’t make a scene. You pushed me to it. I didn’t ask for this," she shot back, her voice steady but edged with annoyance.

Jongho let out a low, frustrated growl. "You think I care about your excuses?" he snapped. "You think I won’t make you regret this?"

YN met his gaze, her own expression hardening. "I’m done with you trying to make me regret everything I do. You don’t scare me, Jongho."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension crackling between them like electricity. It was clear that neither of them had the intention of backing down, but there was something else, too—something unspoken, a shift that neither could quite understand.

Jongho let out a deep breath, finally turning back to his homework. The air between them wasn’t any less tense, but at least it was quiet now, with both of them trying to get through the task at hand.

Time dragged on, and the silence remained. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, YN finished her homework. She stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, and started to gather her things.

"Done," she said curtly, not bothering to look at him as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

Jongho followed suit, packing up his things, but his movements were stiff, like he was still holding something back. He didn’t say anything as YN turned to leave, but she could feel his gaze burning into her back.

"See you around, YN," he said, his tone low, a challenge lingering in his words.

YN paused at the door, her hand on the handle. She turned to face him, her expression cold but firm. "You’ll never get me to back down, Jongho," she said, her voice steady. "And one day, you’ll realize that."

Without another word, she stepped out into the hallway, leaving Jongho standing there, his fists clenched at his sides, trying to understand the weight of her words. The conflict between them was far from over, but somehow, YN felt like she had taken a small step toward taking back control. She didn’t know what would happen next, but for the first time, she felt like she could face whatever came her way.

After that tense punishment session, YN made a firm decision—she was done engaging with Jongho. She’d had enough of his games, his constant attempts to rattle her, and the exhausting back-and-forth that seemed to follow them everywhere. From that day forward, she resolved to ignore him completely.

She wouldn’t look at him during class. If she felt his gaze on her, she’d keep her head down and focus on her notes. If his friends tried to whisper snide remarks as she passed by, she’d pretend not to hear. She even started taking different routes to her classes to avoid crossing paths with him altogether.

At first, it seemed to work. Jongho didn’t immediately escalate things, and YN began to feel a small sense of relief. Hanni noticed the change too and encouraged her to keep at it.

“It’s the best way to deal with guys like him,” Hanni said one afternoon as they studied together in the library. “They thrive on attention. If you don’t give him any, he’ll eventually get bored and move on.”

YN nodded, determined to stick to her plan. She was finally starting to feel like she could breathe again, even if the occasional encounter with Jongho still made her stomach twist.

But, of course, Jongho noticed.

At first, he thought her silence was just a phase, a temporary retreat before she would come back swinging. But as days turned into weeks, he realized she was serious. She wasn’t reacting to him at all. No glares, no comebacks, no confrontations. It was like he didn’t exist to her anymore.

And it infuriated him.

In class, he’d purposely drop his pen near her desk, just to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t. He’d make loud remarks to his friends, knowing she could hear, but she never looked his way. Even during group projects, when they were forced to interact, she kept her responses curt and professional, refusing to engage in any unnecessary conversation.

The more she ignored him, the more it ate at him. Jongho wasn’t used to being dismissed like this. People either feared him, admired him, or tried to stay on his good side. But YN? She acted like he didn’t even matter.

One day, during a particularly dull lecture, Jongho found himself staring at her from across the room. She was diligently taking notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. Something about her calm, focused demeanor made his irritation bubble to the surface. How could she be so unaffected?

After class, as YN packed up her things, Jongho lingered by the door, waiting for her to leave. When she finally stepped into the hallway, he fell into step beside her, his presence impossible to ignore.

“You think ignoring me is going to make me stop?” he asked, his tone low and almost teasing.

YN didn’t even glance at him. “I don’t care what you do, Jongho. Do whatever you want. It doesn’t concern me anymore.”

As YN took a step to walk away, Jongho’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist—not harshly, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks. She froze, her eyes darting to where his fingers wrapped around her wrist before snapping up to meet his gaze.

“What is it now?” she asked sharply, her voice tinged with exasperation. “I talk to you, you make my life miserable. I ignore you, and now you’re bothering me again. What do you want from me, Jongho?”

Her words hung in the air, cutting through the bustling noise of students in the hallway. Jongho didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. For a moment, it seemed like he was struggling to find the right words, his usual confidence faltering.

“I…” he started, but then stopped, his frustration evident. He released her wrist, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself.

“You’re so irritating,” he finally said, his tone low but not as sharp as usual.

YN blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected response. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice growing more frustrated. “You’re irritating. You come in here, acting like you’re better than everyone—"

“I never acted like that!” YN cut him off, her voice rising. “All I’ve done is mind my own business and try to survive in this place. You’re the one who decided to make me your target. And for what? Because I’m smarter than you? Because I beat you on a few exams? Get over it, Jongho!”

Her words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, Jongho just stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t back down, her chest rising and falling with anger, her gaze steady and unwavering.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“Then explain it to me,” YN snapped, crossing her arms. “Because I’ve had enough of your nonsense. If you’ve got something to say, just say it already.”

Jongho looked at her, his expression unreadable. His usual arrogance seemed to waver, replaced by something more vulnerable, though he masked it quickly.

“You’re the first person who’s ever beaten me,” he said finally, his voice quieter than she expected. “I’ve always been at the top, always been the one everyone looked up to. And then you show up, and suddenly… I’m not.”

YN blinked, her anger softening just slightly. She hadn’t expected him to admit that, least of all to her.

“That’s what this is about?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “Your ego?”

Jongho’s jaw clenched, and he looked away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I do understand,” YN said, her voice firm but calmer now. “You’re used to being the best, and when you’re not, you don’t know how to handle it. But that doesn’t give you the right to make my life hell. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, just like you. If you have a problem with me, deal with it in a healthy way. Compete with me in class, not by… whatever this is.”

Her words seemed to strike a chord, and for the first time, Jongho didn’t have a retort. He just stood there, staring at her, his expression unreadable.

“Are we done here?” YN asked after a moment, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.

Jongho hesitated, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Fine,” she said, turning on her heel and walking away.

Jongho watched her go, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. For the first time, he felt… uncertain. He couldn’t explain it, but something about her words lingered, gnawing at him in a way that nothing ever had before.

Jongho sat with his friends at their usual spot in the cafeteria, poking at his food absentmindedly. The others were chatting and laughing, but his brooding silence didn’t go unnoticed.

Wooyoung was the first to comment, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Alright, spill it. What’s got you looking like someone stole your protein powder, Jongho?”

“Yeah,” Mingi chimed in, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth. “You’ve been weird lately. Is it because of that girl again?”

At the mention of YN, Jongho’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look up, but his grip on his fork visibly tensed.

San raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s definitely about her. The way you keep glaring at her during class could set fire to her notebook.”

“Shut up,” Jongho muttered, shoving a piece of food into his mouth to avoid saying anything more.

But his friends weren’t about to let it go.

“It’s not healthy, man,” Yunho said, leaning forward with a concerned look. “You’re obsessed. Every time she walks into a room, you lose your mind. What’s the deal?”

Jongho finally looked up, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Everything about her bothers me,” he said sharply. “The way she talks, the way she’s always so perfect in class, the way she acts like she doesn’t care about anything—”

“Or the way she beat you?” Seonghwa interjected calmly, raising an eyebrow.

Jongho shot him a glare but didn’t respond.

“Sounds personal,” Wooyoung teased, grinning mischievously. “Are you sure this isn’t just… you know, a crush?”

The table fell silent for a moment, and Jongho froze, his expression caught somewhere between shock and denial. “What?” he said, his tone sharp.

“You heard him,” Hongjoong said, smirking slightly. “All this energy you’re putting into her… are you sure it’s not something else?”

“No,” Jongho said immediately, his voice firm. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” San asked, leaning his chin on his hand. “I mean, it’s classic, isn’t it? The whole ‘I can’t stand her, but I can’t stop thinking about her’ thing. Sounds like a crush to me.”

“I don’t like her,” Jongho snapped, his ears tinging red. “She’s annoying, and she thinks she’s better than everyone else. That’s all.”

His friends exchanged knowing looks, clearly unconvinced.

“Whatever you say,” Wooyoung said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve seen this before. Denial is step one.”

“Step two is overcompensating,” Mingi added with a laugh.

“And step three,” Yeosang said smoothly, “is realizing you’ve been an idiot the whole time.”

Jongho scowled, shoving his chair back and standing up. “You’re all delusional. There’s nothing going on.”

He grabbed his tray and stormed off, leaving his friends laughing behind him.

But as he walked away, his thoughts betrayed him. Their words replayed in his mind, and for the first time, he wondered if there was a kernel of truth in what they said. No, he told himself firmly. It’s not that. It can’t be.

Still, the idea lingered, unsettling him in a way he couldn’t quite shake.

The next day, Jongho walked into college with a heavy sense of unease. His friends’ words from the day before replayed in his mind like an annoying song he couldn’t shake. A crush? On her? The idea was absurd—laughable even. There was no way that was true.

Yet, as he walked into the classroom and his eyes instinctively searched for her, he felt a strange tightness in his chest when he saw her sitting at her desk, completely focused on her notes. She was chewing on the end of her pen, her brows slightly furrowed, clearly deep in thought.

Jongho shook his head and looked away. No. Absolutely not.

But throughout the lecture, he found his gaze drifting back to her, no matter how hard he tried to stop himself. He told himself he was just observing her—nothing more. But every time she raised her hand to answer a question or leaned over to highlight something in her book, he found himself questioning his own thoughts.

Why am I looking at her? Why does it bother me that she doesn’t even glance in my direction anymore?

He denied it over and over. It’s not that. I’m just annoyed with her. That’s all. She’s competition, and I don’t like losing. That’s it.

But then, during a group discussion, she laughed at something one of her friends said, and Jongho froze. It wasn’t loud or attention-grabbing, but something about the way her face lit up made him stop and stare for just a second too long. His chest felt… weird.

He immediately snapped his head down to his notebook, gripping his pen tightly. No. No way.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the thought refused to leave his mind. Every time he saw her—whether in class, in the hallway, or even at lunch—his brain kept returning to the same annoying question: Why do I care so much?

By the time the final bell rang, Jongho was more frustrated with himself than he’d ever been. He stormed out of the building, ignoring his friends’ calls, and headed straight to the gym. He needed to work off this confusion, to get his head back in the game.

But even as he threw punches at the bag, the image of her wouldn’t leave his mind. Her voice, her laugh, her determination—it all haunted him.

And as much as he tried to deny it, a small, nagging voice in the back of his head whispered the truth he didn’t want to hear.

Maybe his friends were right.

The evening was calm as YN sat across from Hanni in their favorite cafe, sipping on iced coffee and chatting about everything and nothing. The warm ambiance of the cafe felt like a comforting bubble where YN could momentarily forget about the chaos that had become her college life.

As they wrapped up their time together, Hanni gave her a playful warning. "Don’t overthink things, okay? And if that Jongho guy gives you trouble again, call me. I’ll—well, I can’t fight, but I’ll be there for moral support."

YN laughed. “Thanks, Hanni. I think I’ll be fine.”

She hailed a cab outside the cafe and slid into the backseat, giving the driver her address. The night was cool, the faint hum of the city filling the silence as the cab moved through traffic. YN rested her head against the window, her thoughts wandering as the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold.

At a red light, the cab came to a halt. Absentmindedly, she glanced out the window, her eyes tracing the silhouettes of vehicles and pedestrians passing by. Then, her gaze locked on a sleek black motorcycle that pulled up beside her.

The bike was spotless, its polished surface gleaming under the streetlights. The rider wore an all-black outfit—leather jacket, gloves, and boots—and a black helmet that seemed to swallow the light. His presence was almost magnetic, drawing her attention without effort.

And then, as if he could feel her gaze, the rider tilted his head slightly in her direction. He reached up and flipped open the visor of his helmet.

Her breath hitched.

All she could see were his eyes, but that alone was enough to captivate her. They were sharp, intense, and utterly mesmerizing, framed by long lashes that made them look almost unreal. The dim glow of the streetlights reflected in his dark irises, giving them an almost smoldering effect. It was a gaze that carried an effortless power, like he didn’t need to say a word to command attention.

It took her a moment to realize she recognized those eyes.

Jongho.

Her heart skipped a beat. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but the weight of his stare was enough to send a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t hostile or challenging like she was used to; it was unreadable, calm, yet undeniably strong.

She couldn’t look away.

The light turned green, and the cab started moving again, breaking the spell. YN turned her head back toward the window, her mind racing. She could still feel his gaze lingering even as the cab sped away.

What was he doing out here? Why was he on that bike? And why, of all things, did the memory of his eyes make her cheeks burn?

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. It’s just Jongho. Stop overthinking it, YN.

But deep down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to shake the image of him so easily.

The lecture hall buzzed with excitement as the professor announced the group assignment. "Alright, everyone! Pair up into groups of two for this project. You’ll be working together for the next two weeks, so choose wisely."

YN sat up straighter in her seat, mentally scanning the room for Hanni or anyone else she could team up with. She had barely turned her head to search when someone pulled the chair next to hers with an air of finality.

She glanced over, and her stomach flipped. Jongho.

Without so much as a greeting, he dropped his bag on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "I’m your partner," he said, his tone making it clear it wasn’t up for debate.

YN blinked at him, startled. "You didn’t even ask me. What if I already had a partner?"

He raised an eyebrow, his expression indifferent. "You don’t."

Her jaw dropped slightly. "And how do you know that?"

Jongho shrugged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "Because I got here first. Problem?"

YN’s fingers tightened around her pen. His confidence was maddening, the way he acted as if he had every right to make decisions for her. "Actually, yes, I do have a problem," she shot back.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Too bad. We’re already partners. Let’s just get this over with."

YN stared at him, torn between frustration and disbelief. Of all people, why did he have to be the one to claim her as his partner?

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Fine. But don’t think you can just boss me around, Jongho."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost teasing. "Wouldn’t dream of it," he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

As the professor continued explaining the assignment, YN couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He sat there, completely relaxed, as if he hadn’t just bulldozed his way into her plans.

Two weeks with him, she thought, resisting the urge to groan. This was going to be a long project.

As the lecture ended and the other pairs started discussing their plans, Jongho turned to YN, his expression as composed and commanding as ever.

"We’ll get started this weekend," he said, packing up his things. "Meet me outside campus. I’ll take you to my place."

YN blinked at him, confused. "Your place?"

"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly. "You live in the dorms, right? Too cramped to work there. My place is better."

She hesitated, her instincts screaming that this was a bad idea. "Wait… how am I supposed to get there?"

Jongho slung his bag over his shoulder, looking at her like the answer was obvious. "I’ll take you on my bike."

Her eyes widened. "Your bike? No way."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her protest. "What’s the problem?"

"The problem," she said, crossing her arms, "is that you’re probably going to crash it on purpose just to mess with me."

At that, Jongho actually laughed—a low, deep sound that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Seriously? You think I’d risk my bike just to scare you?"

"Yes," she said flatly.

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. "I’m not crashing my bike, YN. Trust me, I take care of it better than I take care of myself."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I can just take a cab or something."

Jongho shook his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Cabs take too long. Besides, this way, I know you’ll actually show up."

YN frowned, feeling cornered. She hated how he always had a way of making her feel like she didn’t have a choice. "I don’t even like bikes," she mumbled.

"Then it’s about time you got used to them," he said with a smirk. "I’ll pick you up Saturday at noon. Don’t be late."

And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there, staring after him in disbelief.

As much as she wanted to refuse, she knew Jongho wouldn’t take no for an answer. She sighed, already dreading the weekend. This is going to be a nightmare.

Saturday rolled around, and YN begrudgingly got ready for the day. She decided to keep it casual but cute, pairing a skirt with a cozy sweater and boots. She knew Jongho would probably make some snarky comment no matter what she wore, but she didn’t care.

When she walked out to the dorm entrance, there he was—leaning against his sleek black bike, arms crossed, looking effortlessly intimidating. His leather jacket fit perfectly, and the helmet tucked under his arm completed the look.

Jongho’s eyes scanned her from head to toe, and before she could say anything, he raised an eyebrow. "Are you really wearing that skirt?"

YN frowned, her hands going to her hips. "What’s that supposed to mean? Are you shitting on my fashion choices now?"

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, it’s not that. But if you want your skirt to ride up every time we hit a bump and your legs to freeze in the wind, then go ahead. Your choice."

She blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. "Oh, how cute," she said sarcastically. "You’re looking out for me now?"

Jongho smirked, leaning slightly closer. "Don’t get the wrong idea. I just don’t want to deal with you whining the whole ride."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Fine, fine. I’ll change. You’re so thoughtful," she added with a dramatic flair of sarcasm before turning to head back inside.

As she walked back to her room, she muttered to herself. He really has a way of ruining a perfectly good morning.

As YN walked back out in her new outfit, Jongho was already waiting, his fingers tapping idly against his helmet. When he saw her, he wordlessly handed her a second helmet.

"Put it on," he said curtly.

She took it with a slight glare and slid it over her head, fumbling with the straps under her chin. It wasn’t exactly her area of expertise, and she struggled to fasten it securely.

Jongho tsked, stepping closer. "You’re hopeless," he muttered, reaching out to fix it himself. His fingers worked deftly, fastening the hook with ease. YN stood frozen as he worked, her cheeks warming at the proximity.

"There," he said, stepping back and grabbing his own helmet. "Try not to mess it up."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Jongho climbed onto the bike, motioning for her to get on. Reluctantly, she swung her leg over and settled onto the seat behind him. The bike rumbled beneath them, the vibrations already making her nervous.

"Hold on," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

"No, thanks," she replied stiffly, gripping the edges of her seat instead.

Jongho chuckled darkly. "Suit yourself."

Before she could react, he revved the engine, and the bike lurched forward. YN yelped, her hands instinctively flying to his waist as the sudden acceleration caught her off guard.

"Thought so," Jongho said smugly, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.

"Shut up!" she yelled back, her grip tightening as they sped down the street.

The wind whipped past them, and YN had no choice but to hold onto him as they weaved through the city. Despite her earlier reluctance, she couldn’t deny that the ride was thrilling—though she’d never admit that to Jongho.

As they rode on, she felt a mix of frustration and something she couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, she chalked it up to the adrenaline. For now, she just wanted the ride to end without incident.

The bike came to a smooth stop in front of an upscale apartment complex. YN’s eyes widened as she took in the towering building, its modern design complete with sleek glass panels and a luxurious entrance. It was easily one of the nicest places she’d ever seen.

"You live here?" she blurted out as she climbed off the bike, staring up at the building in disbelief.

Jongho removed his helmet, shaking out his hair as he turned to her. "Yeah. Why?"

"Why?" she repeated, still gawking. "How can you afford a place like this at your age? Are you secretly some kind of heir or something?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

YN rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but feel even more intrigued. She followed him as he led the way to the entrance, her curiosity growing with every step.

The lobby was just as impressive as the exterior—polished floors, tasteful decor, and a front desk manned by a professional-looking concierge. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing around, taking it all in.

"This is… insane," she muttered under her breath.

Jongho glanced over his shoulder, his smirk still firmly in place. "You coming, or are you just going to stand there gawking?"

She shot him a glare and hurried to catch up, determined not to let him get under her skin any more than he already had. But as they stepped into the elevator and ascended to his floor, she couldn’t help but wonder just how much she didn’t know about him.

As the door to Jongho’s apartment swung open, YN stepped inside and took a moment to take everything in. The interior was sleek and minimalistic, with a predominantly black and gray color scheme. There was gym equipment neatly set up in one corner, a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a couch that looked both comfortable and expensive. The only thing that stood out amidst the masculine decor was a small potted plant on the windowsill and a couple of oddly cute figurines on the shelf.

"This is so… you," YN said, her voice filled with curiosity as she walked further in, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of the sleek black counter in the kitchen. "Gym equipment in the living room, all black interiors, and—wait, are those little figurines?"

Jongho leaned against the doorframe, watching her as she explored his space. "Don’t touch those," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"Relax," she said, giving him a playful glance. "I’m just looking."

Her curiosity and the way she looked at everything with awe made Jongho pause. His arms were crossed, but his gaze softened as he observed her. There was something about the way she moved—so full of energy, yet grounded—that made it hard for him to look away.

He caught himself staring and frowned slightly. What is wrong with me? he thought.

His mind wandered to his friends' teasing words from before. Did he actually like her, or was she just annoyingly cute today? The way she had stood up to him earlier, the way she looked at him with fire in her eyes, and now the way her curiosity lit up his apartment like she belonged there—everything about her was throwing him off.

YN turned around, catching him looking at her. "What?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Nothing," Jongho muttered, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Are you done looking around, or are we actually going to work on this project?"

She raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. "I don’t know… maybe I should take a closer look at those figurines."

"Don’t even think about it," he warned, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

As she laughed and turned back to the desk he had cleared for their work, Jongho found himself wondering just how long he could keep denying whatever it was he was feeling.

As they sat down at the desk to start their project, Jongho found himself unexpectedly captivated by YN. At first, he had been irritated by her sharp tongue and unrelenting determination to beat him at everything. But now, as she leaned over the papers, her brows furrowed in concentration, he noticed the small things—how her hair framed her face, the way her lips pursed as she thought, and how her intelligence shone through every word she spoke.

She was explaining something about their topic, her voice steady and confident. He nodded along, but his focus wasn’t on the words—it was on her.

She’s not just smart, he thought to himself. She’s… beautiful.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until YN looked up, catching his gaze.

"Jongho?" she asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you even listening?"

He blinked, quickly snapping out of his thoughts. "Yeah, of course. You were saying… something about this part of the project?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but let it slide. "Right… anyway, we’ll need to gather some more sources for this section."

As the hours went on, Jongho found himself getting more comfortable around her. The way she approached problems with a mix of logic and creativity impressed him, and he started to appreciate her little quirks—the way she tapped her pen against the table when she was thinking or the way she smiled triumphantly whenever she solved something tricky.

Unbeknownst to him, his initial irritation toward her was transforming into something else entirely. He liked having her around. Her presence, her energy, the way she challenged him—it all felt… right.

But he didn’t recognize it for what it was. Not yet.

He told himself it was just admiration, just a growing respect for her intelligence. But deep down, something was changing. Jongho was falling, and he didn’t even realize it.

Jongho leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms as he scrolled through food delivery apps on his phone. "I’m starving," he muttered. "I’m thinking of ordering something. What do you want? Pizza? Burgers?"

When he didn’t hear a response, he glanced up, only to find YN wasn’t in her seat anymore. Confused, he turned his head and saw her standing in his kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking into the fridge.

"What are you doing?" he asked, getting up and walking toward her.

YN glanced over her shoulder, tilting her head slightly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Let me cook. Don’t waste your money."

He blinked, caught off guard. "You can cook?"

"Of course," she said, pulling out a few ingredients she had found—a carton of eggs, some vegetables, and a pack of noodles. "It’s not going to be anything fancy, but it’ll be better than spending money on overpriced takeout."

Jongho leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched her move around his kitchen like she owned the place. "You don’t have to do that," he said, though there was no real protest in his tone.

"I want to," YN replied simply, giving him a quick glance. "Besides, it’s the least I can do since I’m using your space for this project."

Jongho didn’t argue further. Instead, he stood there, watching her as she chopped vegetables with practiced ease. There was something oddly comforting about the sight of her cooking in his kitchen, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself, a rare, genuine smile. This girl really knows how to surprise me, he thought.

As the aroma of the food filled the apartment, Jongho realized that for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind sharing his space with someone else. And as much as he tried to deny it, he was starting to like the feeling.

As YN stirred the pot, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jongho still standing there, arms crossed, watching her like she was a show on TV. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why don’t you stop standing there like a statue and help me out, Jongho?" she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Jongho straightened up, clearly caught off guard. "Help? Me? You’re the one who insisted on cooking."

"And you’re the one with two perfectly working hands," she shot back, turning to point the spoon at him. "Come on, big guy. Chop some vegetables or something. Or do you only know how to lift weights?"

His jaw clenched slightly, more out of mock annoyance than anything else. "Fine," he muttered, stepping closer. He grabbed a knife and the vegetables she handed him.

"Careful," she said, watching him for a moment. "I don’t need you ruining my masterpiece."

Jongho gave her a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You really like bossing me around, don’t you?"

"Someone has to," she quipped, going back to her cooking.

He smirked but didn’t say anything, focusing instead on cutting the vegetables as precisely as possible. For a guy who spent most of his free time in the gym or with his friends, he was surprisingly good with a knife.

As they worked side by side in the kitchen, a strange sense of ease settled between them. The usual tension was still there, but it felt lighter somehow, almost playful.

"See?" YN said as she tossed the chopped vegetables into the pan. "Teamwork makes the dream work."

Jongho rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head."

But deep down, he couldn’t ignore how natural it felt to be here with her, working together like this. And no matter how much he tried to deny it, he liked it. Maybe a little too much.

As they sat down at the coffee table to eat, Jongho casually turned on the TV and scrolled through the streaming options. “Might as well put on something while we eat,” he said, settling on an action movie.

YN nodded, already digging into the meal she had prepared. She took a bite, and at first, everything was fine—until the spice hit her. Her face betrayed her struggle as her lips parted slightly, and her eyes darted toward her glass of water.

Jongho noticed immediately. He paused mid-bite, watching her subtle struggle. Without a word, he stood up and walked to the kitchen. YN blinked, confused for a moment, but didn’t say anything as she reached for her water.

When he returned, he was holding a small tub of ice cream and a spoon. He set it in front of her without meeting her eyes, sitting back down like it was no big deal.

She looked at the ice cream, then at him. “You… got this for me?”

“Don’t read too much into it,” he muttered, focusing on his food. “You looked like you were about to set your mouth on fire.”

Despite his dismissive tone, YN couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks,” she said softly, taking a spoonful of the ice cream. The cool sweetness instantly soothed her, and she let out a small sigh of relief.

Jongho glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, pretending to stay engrossed in the movie. But he noticed everything—the way her shoulders relaxed, the small smile playing on her lips, the way her eyes brightened as she ate.

It wasn’t the first time he had paid attention to her without realizing it, but it was the first time he felt… something. A warmth in his chest he couldn’t explain.

Why am I doing this? he thought, shoving another bite of food into his mouth as if that would quiet his mind.

Every little thing about her was starting to stick with him. The way she challenged him, the way she surprised him, the way she smiled. And now, the way she sat across from him, enjoying the ice cream he’d fetched without a second thought.

He shook his head slightly, trying to brush it off. It’s nothing, he told himself. It’s just… habit. Or pity. Or… something.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t. Even if he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

Divider from @/cafekitsune

[khrystalsnow]

January 2025 FanFic✨

Welcome Everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted anything on Tumblr and for this year, I wanted to start posting more fanfic recommendations to share my love for the authors, instead of being in the shadows and for more people to enjoy them. I will try to post every month the fanfics that I've read (which hopefully I stick by 🤞🏼) but for January, I have mostly Jungkook fanfics so hopefully you enjoy the list and have found something you also love❤️

The majority of fics are 18+ so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Legend:

🦷-fluff

🔥-angst

🌶️-smut

👅-crack/funny

❣️-personal favourite

✍🏼-ongoing

JUNGKOOK

The Corporate Equation by @someonegoood 🦷🔥❣️✍🏼

-this is in a corporate setting with jungkook as the CEO and y/n as the head of HR. Grumpy x sunshine trope, but really cute because we get to see jungkook slowly but surely softening up to y/n no matter how hard they try to deny it🤭

Neighbor Blunder by @awrkive 🦷🔥🌶️❣️✍🏼

-now listen to me, this is really good😭 I really love the dynamic between oc and Jungkook especially now with the new update👀 He's a gentleman, he doesn't beat around the bushes and sets his intentions straight to oc. I'm really excited about what happens next and will be lurking on AO3 for new updates because I cannot wait

ctrl+alt+delete by @muniimyg 🦷🔥🌶️👅

-obviously, I need to add in a social media au because they are really quick to read and this one is no exception. OC is an OF content creator and jungkook is a youtuber. Both of them are really funny and the interactions with their fans are really cute as well!

Playing the Part by @goldenchimmy 🌶️

-this was really good! it was such a nice build-up to the smut scene which is just perfection. Jungkook's such a gentleman and I need more of him please😭

True Love by @lovieku 🦷🔥🌶️

-this was really cute because OC's a simp for Jungkook and I would be too. It was also so heartwarming that they were able to find comfort within each other when OC would get panic attacks and show each other acts of love

The Love Prognosis by @awrkive 🦷🔥🌶️❣️

-A fan favourite of course 🫶🏻 I related to this a lot (the unrequited love part😶) and just being there for the person you love even if they're not with you, but will ultimately hurt Jungkook in the process. highly recommend it if you haven't read this and the drabbles because they are also extremely fun to read!

Teach Me How To Love by @kookooluvr 🦷🔥🌶️✍🏼❣️

-Another fan favourite because it's just THAT good. everything's going good at the current update of them going to Jeju but I'm ready for the angst that's about to commence😭 Ultimately, I just want Jungkook to finally have his girl fr

The Farmhouse by @solecize 🦷🔥

-the plot was something different from the fics that I usually gravitate to in January. this is a friends to lovers, set in a small town where OC is restoring her grandpa's farm and she reunites with her childhood friend. I love every little aspect of this fic because it deals with grief, growing up, and love. I love the subtleness of Jungkook's love for OC in the beginning where he helps her out in the farm, but it slowly grows toward the end, this is just such a wholesome read!

YOONGI

Love & Lullabies by @ktownshizzle 🦷🔥🌶️

-DILF yoongi because it needs its own warninggg. this was also a really cute and heartwarming read. in every part I read, their love for each other just grows and grows. give this fic some love because you won't regret it!

NAMJOON

Empty Box by @moni-logues 🔥🌶️

-I had hope for the ending but alas this fic does not have a happy ending 🥹 this fic does contain infidelity which I would typically stay away from but I gave it a chance and wow. the writing is really beautiful and rich, you can feel the pain both Namjoon and OC go through throughout their journey which leaves you feeling like you've also gone through the waves of their relationship. The plot feels realistic which makes it 10 times more painful

SHORT FICS

satellite by @httpknjoon 🦷🔥

: Your friend, Jungkook, offers to help you while you review for your human anatomy exam.

Petals and Fists by @kissyforkoo 🦷🔥

: boxer!jk x florist!oc

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript and more puppy pics below the cut:

Megan: I thought you weren’t getting a dog. Asher: I mean, did anyone really believe that? Megan: [laughs] No, but I didn’t expect you’d come home with three. Asher: Well, the black one is Phoenix’s. Phoenix: Is it okay if he stays here, just for tonight? I want to surprise Aspen at her party tomorrow. Megan: Sure. It’s a good thing we have a quiet house tonight.

Asher: What do you mean? Megan: Dad’s working late and Spencer is sleeping over at a friend’s house. And I assume Iris is taking the opportunity to stay with her boyfriend.   Asher: Did she finally tell you about him? Megan: No, but you just did.

Asher: Rude. You cannot tell her I said anything. Megan: Don’t worry. It’s not like she’s been subtle. Asher: I guess. I just wish she’d bring him around, so I know whether to be worried or happy for her. Megan: You two… always so protective of each other. It’s sweet. Asher: Yeah, well, I have reason to be. Megan: Maybe, but she’s been quite happy lately, so let’s assume the best for now. And introduce me to these babies.

Asher: Okay, so these two are ours. The little singer over there is called Pluto.    

Asher: And this happy girl is called Pixel.   

Asher: Phoenix’ doesn’t have a name yet. He wants Aspen to help name him, so we’ve just been calling him Pup in the meantime.

Megan: You’re certainly going to have your hands full tonight. I’ll put out some food; I assume you brought some home with you. Asher: It’s up on the porch. Atlas: I’ll get it.

Phoenix: Maybe I should’ve asked this before getting the dog, but is there any chance I can talk you into dog sitting for a week this fall? Asher: Yeah, of course. You guys taking a trip or something? Phoenix: I’m taking Dawn and Aspen to Chestnut Ridge.

Asher: [gasping dramatically] Really? What changed your mind? Phoenix: Some asshole called me out for being stubborn, and I decided he wasn’t completely wrong. Asher: This asshole sounds very wise… AND good looking. Phoenix: Don’t push it.

Phoenix: But I realized that I need to decide if I’m going to give him a real chance or not, and if I am, then I need to give him the opportunity to show me he’s really changed, that I can trust him. Asher: I think this will be really good. And I know it isn’t easy…

Asher: I’m proud of you. Phoenix: Please don’t make this weird. Asher: So, no hug then?

Phoenix: Thank you. But also, if he fucks up and hurts my family, I’m holding you personally responsible. Asher: Well, that’s not fair, I don’t even know the guy. I’m not vouching for him. Phoenix: Too late. Asher: [laughs] Whatever. Get home safe and I’ll see you tomorrow.

[spread-the-influence]

i'm sorry this has been my roman empire SINCE i entered the fandom i have to get even more into detail . please forgive me for another essay

i don't want to bash on people's interpretations of ragatha because at the end of the day we will only truly know her once the other 5 episodes of tadc release .

so , i am Not going to list stuff i don't like . INSTEAD i'm just going to go into what i think is often missing when it comes to ragatha because my problem with fanon content of her is that she doesn't Feel like Ragatha enough . she often times feel more like a predisposed caretaker character that will have whispers of ragatha's flaws but none of , like , The Character if you get what i'm saying .

SILLINESS - this is the one that sticks out the most to me because it's Very obvious when there's not enough silliness in a ragatha . again , she's emotionally immature , which is apparent in her dialogue and gestures . maybe it's the psychology nerd in me but i Never really got mom vibes from her , i always saw everything she does as an epitome of anxious attachment i ammm not against putting her in a mom-child dynamic , i am not against the concept of mom ragatha and i have seen a fic that executed that well . it's just that when i see it pulled off , it's often ignoring that she puts one million emotional walls between herself and everybody - and it also ignores that there have been many implications where she's Not as helpful as she seems . this also often leads to infantilizing pomni and i Do not like that as well

insincerity - this is something that makes me go INSANE when i see it represented . i need to see this girl be dishonest , or Lie . i think it's so fascinating how much she hides her feelings to keep others from not liking her . i also think this is one thing i always find missing whenever i see other people's ragathas . there's just not enough of that insincerity . i'm not saying you should make her Lie all the time i'm saying that ragatha puts up a mask and is constantly thinking about what'll make the other person not hate her . she's just not a genuine person , which doesn't really help you on forming deep and personal relationships .

instability - ragatha does Not have her shit together i'm sorry . she wants people to like her to the point it's unhealthy and she has a grasp on her happy mask tighter than gangle's . this woman is a cocktail of internal issues . her self-esteem is Six Foot Underground . i have joked that she would do drugs if given the chance and guess what this bitch is at high risk of developing an addiction — now she's not like completely dysfunctional . but something to note is that her coping mechanisms are : Suppress Everything That Makes You Feel Bad , Ignore Your Pain , and Rely On Other People's Approval . we still don't know exactly Why she does those other than ' to not abstract ' , believe it or not they're still up for interpretation right now but yeah those are the stuff she does .

Does this make anyone else think of how the fandom treats Ragatha?

ehh i feel like the fandom has done a good job of acknowledging her flaws and how she's a people pleaser . if there's a problem i have with the general characterization of ragatha really , it's that there's just so little ... ragathaness in it ??

to put it into words , i feel like not a lot of people grasp that ragatha , at her core , is Emotionally Immature . she doesn't really act like her age . and i'm not saying that turning 30 means you have it all together and all of your problems disappear , it's more like that if we Ignored pomni and ragatha's appearances and compared their actions together , people would've thought that ragatha was Younger than her .

and this is intentional to show the contrast between them . pomni , whenever she's having The Conversation™ , tries to understand and offer suggestions . ragatha , i'm sure she does lend a listening ear but i do not trust ragatha " Toxic Positivity Incarnate " tadc to give advice that isn't as surface level as ' just don't worry about it ! ' or ' keep smiling ! ' , which is already kind of implied through gangle's dialogue

it just puts me off in a lot of fanon content . like i would read a fic and then i had to put it down because i'm like No ragatha knows too much about what she's doing She Literally Never Does that's her point please a ragatha is not complete without some element of anxiety , insincerity , and silliness i have the ragatha recipe right here

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Apocalyptic winter

Trilogy masterlist

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Chapter warnings: Dead dove do not eat, dubcon borders noncon, coercion, manipulation, pregnancy (not very detailed), pregnancy nausea, age gap (reader is 19-20 and Joel is 56), unprotected p in v, grooming, mentions of Sarah & Sarah's mom, victim blaming, angst, depression

"Baby, who did this to you?"

Blood came rushing into your brain, a dull thumping at your temples as you looked up from your seat in Maria and Tommy's couch. Your body begun to shake, because you had silently prayed they wouldn't ask you that. That they'd be too disappointed to do it. But no, Tommy's worried eyes set on you as Maria couldn't do more than blankly stare at the coffee table before you.

Almost as instinct you shook your head, tears kissing your eyelids in a stinging pace.

"It's our fault," You had heard them mutter in the kitchen as you came to them that morning after pouring your soul out on your toilet; you had felt like shit for almost a month now, and Joel did little to calm you down. His priority after the "date" had shifted, and you felt as if every moment with him revolved around bending you over or getting his hands up your skirt. "We never taught her about it-for fuck's sake she's almost twenty-"

After Maria asked about your period and you had lightly commented that you hadn't got it yet, her eyes glazed over with fear as her dark lips parted.

Pregnant.

That was your diagnostic, and it doomed on you. You could barely understand it as it was, perhaps because you have never had to worry about it, or perhaps because you didn't knew better.

"Babygirl," He called again softly, and it irked you. The nickname both brothers used on you, Tommy in his fatherly concern and Joel in his wild savagery. "You are fine, it's fine, jus' need to know who."

How could you tell him that the man that had done that to you was the man whose pictures hang behind him, on top of the fireplace? The man who had just come for dinner the night before and you had called him an "Ol' grumpy man" as you giggled? the very man that had taken you home afterwards and fucked you until you apologized?

Would you have to tell him, then, all the things you had allowed him to do? How he made you come in his fingers? how he had shoved his cock up your throat? How he had fucked you on the bed Tommy himself had built for you?

"No," You panted, feeling your hands clammy from how tight you had them fisted. "Please Tommy, don't make me-"

"Sweatheart," Maria cooed. "Was it-" She stammered with her words, and you felt her breathe getting ragged, as if she was going to say something unspeakable "against your will?"

You felt something clawing at you, a desire to say yes that was strong as the desire to say no when Joel slammed you against your couch, hiking your knees up and wide. But the same way you would plead for more then, you shook your head stubbornly.

"N-no, no," You chanted, seeing their expressions shift slightly. Oh god, they were so disappointed. "I-I wanted it."

Filth pooled from your lips, filth that Joel had set onto you.

"Baby, we need a name." Tommy spoke again, voice harder now despite his softened eyes.

Any name, you thought, the possibility of lying your way out scaring you by even appearing in your head.

"I can't." You croaked, feeling the tears fall down your warm cheeks as you once again failed them.

"Tommy," Maria called, and you felt grateful the attention wasn't on you anymore, until she mumbled the next words. "I think I know."

You wanted to jump on the couch and scream she doesn't, but that level of disrespect was too much for you.

"Then tell me." He demanded, hands on his hips twitching. Maria gave you one look, as if it was your last chance to repent, before opening her lips.

"I-I didn't want to believe it," she started, and it doomed on you that she knew, every little sight she left out building anticipation on you. You barely noticed how wild your hands were shaking. "but I heard whispers about Joel going into her house at night."

A sob broke the silence, face slamming into your hands; because it was never supposed to go this far, because you thought that if they ever knew it would be because of you. Because once Joel had whispered to hush you, that perhaps were you were old enough, it could be.

You heard thundering steps and you flinched, face still cradled in your hands, but as they dissipated, you managed the courage to look up. Only Maria was in the room, and you were to scared to ask were Tommy was, perhaps you knew better.

But any trace of anger wasn't present in her face, and as she casted one look at you, she stood up from her seat and came crashing down at the couch besides you. She hugged you silently.

You realized how much you missed it when you heard raw, bickering voices nearing the house; you felt yourself shaking once again as the door opened, seeing him so fervently.

You whimpered at his glare, deep dark eyes and dark brows, and at the swelling bruise by his jaw; his lip looked busted too. You remembered what Tommy had once told you when you were fifteen, if any guy tries to be smart with ya I'll be his worst nightmare. But of course you had never imagined the guy to be his own brother.

He escorted him in, glaring holes into the back of his head. Joel stopped, as if waiting for someone to tell him to sit down. His way of acting was uncharacteristic, but you knew he wouldn't pick a fight with Tommy, and it was possibly why Tommy only sported bruised, bleeding knuckles.

He looked at you, and then at him, all in a scowl as Tommy nudged him to sit down. He did, spreading and laying his hand over the back rest on the chair, as if he wanted this over with.

You saw the man that had practically raise you hesitate with his words, anger still coursing through his flushed skin as he held one pointer finger at him.

"Tell me what did you do to her." He barked, deep beneath knowing he didn't want to know, just wanted him to recognize him. Joel stayed silent, eyes jumping from you to him to Maria as he rubbed the scruff on his beard. "Tell me!"

You jolted, catching everyone's attention, shaking so violently tears jumped from your eyes to your lap. You felt yourself becoming sweaty from how profusely you were crying.

"You know what I did-"

His voice was dark, bitter, and it brought shivers down your spine.

"Tell. Me." Tommy repeated. Joel grew irritated.

"Yeah we fucked, is that what you wanna hear?" Joel bit. "What's the big deal? not like I fucking raped her-"

"Do you even know how old she is?"

"Yeah, nineteen." Joel gruffed, but he stared at you as if you could had been lying. "Legal now and legal before."

Tommy laughed dryly, ironically. "Older than what Sarah would be."

The name seemed to perk up you and Joel; you knew who she was, and what happened to her, but never from Joel.

"Keep her out of this shit." Joel growled, thought melancholy strained his voice.

"The shit now is what you have gotten yourself into." Tommy spat, and Joel groaned, the seriousness of the situation escaping him. "You got her pregnant."

As if a bomb had burst, silence spread through in a deafening pace. You felt your chest begin to close as you wanted to claw at him, throw yourself at his feet and beg for him to stay besides you.

He remained stoic, hard as he evaded your pleading eyes.

"Ain't got stuff to take it out like the old days?" He asked Maria, so calmly it made you go cold.

"No, Joel," Maria answered shortly, a tangy bitter drawl. "the world had gone to shit, and once again you are getting the wrong girl pregnant."

The wrong girl. It rung in your ears, because you had been Joel's good girl for too long, his baby girl, his sweet little thing and his perfect little whore.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He questioned, and the way not one of his words were directed to you hurt. Tommy nibbled his lips, unsure too. "We don't precisely have child support here, don't we?"

His words came out cynically, as if searching for a escape goat.

Please look at me, please, let me show you how sorry I am, please, Joel.

"You are-You are going to get everything she needs and makes sure she doesn't have to lift one finger." Tommy decided, making his brother howl in frustration. It felt awry, uneasy, how they were discussing this in front of you, without you having one word to say.

You dueled on what you would say if you had the word, perhaps beg Joel to form a family, perhaps tell Tommy that you can take the burden yourself, but the tension in the living room and the way he looked at you, disgusted, sent you mute.

"Gonna act like she wasn't the one spreading her legs?" Joel irked, making Tommy narrow his eyes at him, dangerously. He looked at you, directly for the first time, and spoke to you in his bittersweet drawl. "Why don't you tell them, honey? how you told me you were ready for it-"

"Enough!" Maria bellowed, raising to her feet. But Joel wouldn't seize it, standing as his thick boots thundered the floorboards.

"Yeah because it's easier to come crying to mommy and daddy about it-"

"Joel!" Tommy barked, cutting him off. "I think it is better for you to leave now, you have done enough."

He spared you one look before turning in his heel, his shoulder bumping against Tommy as he left the Miller's house. No, no, NO, begun thundering in your head as you jump to your feet, ignoring Maria as you followed him out into the open door.

"Joel!" You screamed, and he ignored you, shoulder blades tensing. You ran up to him, clinging to his arm. He stopped, possibly not to trample you as he kept his gaze ahead, onto the slowly-filling streets. "I-I swear I didn't tell them- please, Joel-"

He shook you off, not with enough force to send you stumbling down, but so enough to staggered in your feet.

"This was a fucking mistake," He growled at you, and you shook your head, pounding from how much you were crying. "and you are a fucking idiot, stupid whore-"

He cut himself off, seeing how you begged at him, and continued walking away. You heard your name being called, but you just felt onto the cobblestone, chest heaving as you cried your little heart out for him.

The rumor spread, until it was no longer a rumor; it was a fact. Joel Miller had gotten you pregnant. You hid in your house for so long your friends stopped dropping by, knowing they will only see you laying in your couch, red faced and hoarse throat.

Joel wouldn't even deliver things himself, Tommy did it. He and Maria dropped by at least once every day, to see how you were going. They saw you cracking, falling deeper and deeper into hysteria each time. You cried, you laughed, you barely ate and then you binged. All as your tummy swelled.

For some moments you felt as if you didn't know what was growing inside of you, something draining your energy that Joel had thrust upon you. You hadn't seen him in months, and it tore at you.

You had changed the scenario millions of times; sometimes mad at him, sometimes mad at yourself, and sometimes even mad at Tommy and Maria for not teaching you better; but those times were only when the pregnancy took the worst out of you, when you found yourself hurling over the toilet seat and dealing with unbearable pain in your body.

He wasn't there either when you had your baby, just Maria by your side. The overwhelming pain left once she handed you the baby, a gorgeous little girl. In Jackson's small, ran down hospital you stared once again into the eyes of Joel Miller; two dark, chocolaty puppy dog eyes that needed you. It was enough for you at the moment.

But the pleasure was short-lived, as you recovered from birth in the small living room of your house, Tommy cradling the baby in his arm as he cooed and giggled at her and Maria massaged your feet, gently.

"Now I have to go get all that pink stuff," Tommy told the baby between giggles. "and I risked my ass for that firefighter truck huh?"

You laughed, recalling the box Tommy had brought a few weeks before, a box with baby clothes and the firey red toy on the top; he hoped for a boy, but he would never tell you.

"What do you mean, risked your ass?" You laughed, picking up on the last sentences, you had taken a good load of pain medications to ease the aftermath. Probably overkill, but it was easier like that. Your giggles dissipated as you saw his expression souring, Maria ceasing her ministration on your soles. "Tommy?"

Confusion nagged at you, and Maria sighed, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "Well, Joel hasn't brought anything since um, September I think-" she then added quickly, seeing your horrified expression, "But don't worry yourself about it-"

You gasped in awe, a bit of pain shooting into your chest. Mostly for becoming such a burden to Maria and Tommy, but Joel was... unbelievable.

You had allowed him not coming to see you, you had taken his absence and disinterest, but this hurt worse than that. This was disrespect.

And the thing was, that you had grown tougher. You felt obliged to, for your sake, and your baby's sake, you had left behind your girly fantasies of love and sneaking drinks in the Tipsy Bison. Somehow, Joel Miller had made you a women in more than one way.

And he was about to see it for himself.

[jedidragonrider]

WOOOO YAY!!!!! I’ll be praying for you!!!!!!

Ok as far as dressing for mass: most people used to wear what they call “Sunday best”; ie whatever best clothes you have. Most gals wear their dresses, but you also can wear pants! Our rule in our house growing up was just no jeans or shorts for Sunday mass. Daily mass I wear jeans when I’m not dressed for work though. Modesty guidelines aren’t as crazy as most terminally online Catholics scream about; i usually abide by the skirt two inches below fingertips and cover shoulders/back guidelines.

If no one accepts you as a young single mom with a baby, attend a different Catholic Church. Seriously. We love babies. No priest is going to be annoyed with a baby in church. “If your church isn’t crying, it’s dying” is one of my favorite sayings ever. Most churches also have some kind of cry room if your baby is really screaming and you feel the need to step out, or most moms I know just go to the back of the church where there is usually a narthex. If you need to breastfeed, I know plenty of moms who do it right in the pew. And there should be no shame for being a single mom; one of the members of my (very small) church community is a single mom, and we love her. What a queen.

For daily mass, prep is generally the same as with Sunday mass; I usually arrive a couple mins early to pray and ask the Holy Spirit to help me to enter into the mystery and sacrifice of the Mass. Daily mass is typically shorter, but still awesome.

I would recommend as well getting some type of missal or looking online to print out some of the prayers if you want to see the words in front of you. Or just take it all in.

Above all, don’t feel like it’s weird that you are there and aren’t Catholic; I know so many catechumens who are baptized and come to daily mass and adoration! Biggest thing is please refrain from receiving the Eucharist, as you must be fully Catholic (baptized) and in the state of grace (have gone to Confession of mortal sin has been committed). There are actually many Catholics who do not receive the Eucharist every week because they haven’t gotten the chance to go to confession. No one will think twice of it.

If you can, talk to the parish priest about OCIA! OCIA, or Order of Christian Initiation for Adults, is the preparation for an adult to receive full entry into the Catholic Church. The prep is mainly going through the teachings of the church, a space to ask questions, etc. so you are ready for your initiation (whether that’s receiving all the sacraments of initiation or just some of them if you’ve already been validly baptized).

Books I recommend if you want to learn more are the Catechism of the Catholic Church and Rome Sweet Home by Scott Hahn.

If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to reach out!!!!!

EDIT: WAIT YOURE IN THE BALTIMORE AREA I GREW UP IN THAT AREA!!!!!!!!!! If you have any questions about churches that are good, want to join any young adult groups, more ways to get involved, etc. I still have many many connections in that area!!! Baltimore is such a beautiful diocese and to me it will always be home. Also the Baltimore seminarians are the best.

I feel as though Jesus has been calling me to convert to Catholic for a while…

I believe in Jesus Christ as our savior

I believe in the confessing of sins to repent daily

I also believe in the holy trinity

I also believe in the different saints and angels within the Bible

I also believe in praying to the mother of our savior

Can anyone explain the core beliefs of Catholicism a little deeper for me? What should I wear when I attend mass tomorrow? Will i be accepted as a pregnant single mother with a young baby? What should I do to prepare for daily mass? I am excited to start on this new journey within my faith and want to be obedient to God but I just want to make sure I am educated and I know that this is right for me.. where should I start? I am going to just attend mass tomorrow and keep you all updated.

[sanjoongie]

𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝒯𝑒𝓃~ 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑜𝓇/𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓎

The Menu

🩵Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader (f)

🩵Au: non-idol au, inspired by Arran's Obsession by Jolie Vines

🩵Trope: brother's best friend

🩵Genre: smut

🩵Rating: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

🩵Warnings: prey/predator (consensual), mask kink, size kink, quickie, unprotected sex, dirty talk

🩵Word Count: 1,883

🩵Summary: you join a public event held at an exclusive club where 20 men hunt 5 women and whichever man catches you claims you

🩵Day Nine: Seonghwa | Masterlist | Day Eleven: Yeosang ❤️

The door to the basement closed behind you with such finality that it sent a shiver straight down your spine. You were dressed in lingerie, cheap and easy to rip off. You rubbed your arms to relieve the goosebumps that were peppered across your skin. 

This was your chance to finally get the prize you had been chasing since high school and now into your adult life: Song Mingi.

***

“Boss, they’re in position,” San called out. “You want me to run through the rules now?”

Mingi contemplated his computer screen, making sure every participant had submitted their fees and contracts were signed. He didn’t look away from it but acknowledged San. “Everything looks good on my end.”

San grabbed the mic that connected speakers to the underground basement. He was just about to open his mouth when Mingi happened to look over at San’s screen. It was flashing through the female participants and he recognized a face.

He stood up abruptly and stepped over to San’s station, hands gripping the screen. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He hissed under his breath. 

“Boss?” San peered up uncertainly at Mingi. “Everything good?”

Mingi had a quick decision to make. Either he let his best friend’s sister get claimed by one of the other gang members down in the basement or… better the devil you know then the devil you don’t, right?

“Open up door C, San. I’m going in,” Mingi commanded.

He ripped off his leather jacket, revealing only a simple black tank top. He pulled the skull face bandana from his back pocket, the emblem of their gang the Black Pirates and wrapped it around his lower face. 

“But Mingi…” San trailed off. The organizers weren’t supposed to participate. That was the allure of the entire event. No one knew anyone participating. It was all new and exciting. And everyone was a willing participant, fully aware of the rules. 

“I’ll make an official announcement later. Tell them that I was no longer willing to sell product I hadn't sampled myself. Just open the damn door, San. Once it closes behind me, you can recite the rules.”

Mingi stomped out of the office with a grim purpose: he needed to make sure he was the biggest, baddest dog and claim you for himself. Otherwise you might get stuck with another gang member and your brother would kill him. Best if Mingi was the focus of that anger.

***

“Attention all Participants.” 

A voice echoed through some hidden speaker system and scared the shit out of you. 

“The game is about to begin. Before they do, we would just like to be clear and concise on what entertainment the Black Pirates are providing.”

The voice was alluring itself and you shook your head. You had to focus on the here and now.

“Twenty men will enter the basement to pursue five women. Once a man catches a woman in these hallowed halls, he needs to claim her. Let me be crystal clear: once a twitching, throbbing cock enters your sweet, wet, quivering pussy, you are claimed. All participants have signed a contract acknowledging that all sexual activity is consensual and voluntary. You are all here to enjoy your favorite kink so please put on a great show for the rest of us. Enjoy~!”

You braced yourself, ready to run through the hallways in the basement; ready for Mingi to come and claim you. You knew he would see you even though you had applied under an alias name. You knew he would come to the conclusion that your brother would kill anyone that claimed you. You knew that Mingi was about the only person on this earth that your brother wouldn’t be able to kill. 

You grinned excitedly as the countdown began. The gates opened and you shot down the hallway. You saw the other girls participating bolting down the adjacent and winding hallways, bare feet slapping against the smooth concrete. You needed to find a place to hide so that none of the other men would claim you.

Another thrill ran through you when the horn blared, indicating the men were loose fifteen minutes after the women. The wall beside you was a rock climbing wall so you began to deftly climb up to the next level. The men were probably so delicious with lust that they wouldn’t even think to take a shortcut.

You were barely climbing over the railing to the second level when the rush of men zoomed under you. The crowd petered out quite quickly, the loud noises of the taunting quieting down. You jumped nimbly to the metal grated catwalk and made a quiet thunk of a noise as your feet hit it.

There were three men below you and their heads snapped upwards at the noise. You silent cursed yourself as they immediately began to climb the wall that you had so smartly thought was your savior.

You ran as quickly as you could down the catwalk, finding the cement walls and floor and turned a corner. You looked quickly to see how close your pursuers were. One tall man was leading with his long legs, closely followed by another and then the third more built man was bringing up the rear. You weren’t sure which of the tall men were Mingi but you knew in your gut he was one of them.

Your heart was beating in your throat and you tried to steady your breathing as you continued to dart around the corridors that were your playground currently. When you spotted another shortcut, this one an adult slide, you decided it was time to change it up.

You had just about braced your ass on the slide and were about to push off when the buff man wrapped his arms around you. His voice was deep and his arms strong. He pulled you out of the slide and you squirmed in an attempt to get away.

“I’ll treat you so good, beautiful, don’t you worry,” He assured you while simultaneously pushing your underwear to the side. 

“I don’t think so,” One of the tall men headlocked the buff guy, causing those strong arms to release you. 

They began to wrestle and tussle with each other. Punches were exchanged and you winced as The taller one got a fist in the gut. You turned around to run away but came in contact with a very muscular chest.

“You little maniac,” the deep voice cursed. 

He proceeded to sweep you up and throw you over his shoulder with a grunt. 

You knew that voice. You smiled, pleased with yourself. Mingi had found you. 

“Wait a minute, was that Mingi?” The buff guy said behind you as Mingi jogged to get away with his prize.

“No way,” The other tall man said. “He can’t participate.”

Mingi’s long legs carried him up some winding staircase, finding a dead end down one of the many hallways.

“I don’t know what you were thinking but you are in so much fucking trouble,” Mingi growled, settling you back on your feet in front of him.

You beamed up at your long-time crush. “I was thinking that I wanted to get chased and fucked.”

Mingi ran an angry hand through his hair. His face was still half hidden with his mask. You were only more turned on in the moment with the mask. And with Mingi’s anger. 

His eyes raked over your form, taking in the barely-there lingerie. You looked down to his pelvis, thinking your form might be turning Mingi on, but his cock was already very apparently pressed up against his baggy sweats. 

One long finger hooked in between your bra cups and yanked upwards, bearing your breasts to him. Both of his hands covered them and you swallowed down a moan. “I’ve got to be quick. You better not be lying about wanting to be chased. You better be wet right now.”

“Why don’t you check for yourself?” You said with your chin raised stubbornly.

Mingi took no time ripping your underwear off of your body and plunging his fingers between your folds. His eyes widened in surprise and you swore you saw his dick twitch in his pants. 

Loud voices echoed through the halls suddenly and Mingi’s other hand tightened on your breast. He encircled both hands around your waist and brought your lower half level with his. He pushed down his sweats and rubbed his cock against your soaked folds. 

“You’re mine now,” he snarled and then thrusted into you. 

Your back arched as Mingi filled you. Just in time too. The other two men that had been pursuing you had caught up. 

“Fuck,” they both cursed in unison. 

Mingi’s hips moved and you moaned even louder. “Puh-please,” You whimpered. “Give it to me harder.”

Mingi gripped the back of your head with one large hand. “I can’t just plow you without any foreplay, you little maniac.”

“Please fuck me open, please, I can take it. I want it,” You begged.

Mingi cursed quietly under his breath. You wrapped your legs and arms around Mingi and he brought both of his hands back to your waist. He lifted you up and down on his cock, like you were his own personal flesh light and it made you cry out in pleasure. It felt so fucking good to finally be fucked by the man you had been fantasizing about for years. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight, goddamn,” Mingi said in a hoarse whisper. 

���This pussy is all yours, Mingi,” You responded, waving your hips with Mingi’s thrusts. “She’s purring for you.”

Your fingertips traced Mingi’s tattoos along his neck, down his trapezius muscle and over his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful,” You couldn't help but say in wonder.

“Fuck, Little Maniac,” Mingi grunted, biting down on his lower lip. “You keep talking like that and I’m going to nut inside of you very soon.”

You moaned and tossed your head back. “Please fill me up, oh my god, give me what I want, Mingi.”

Mingi focused on fucking into you even faster. “I can’t believe this sweet cunt is going to be mine,” Mingi said in wonder. “If your brother doesn’t find me and kill me first.”

You could feel your climax quickly approaching and your cries were beginning to crescendo. “Yeah, Mingi, just like that. You're rubbing all the right places inside of me. Yeah, yeah, come on Mingi, come with me, huh? Make me yours, I’m so fucking ready.”

You both come hard, Mingi putting finger bruises on your waist and you making crescent moon marks on Mingi’s shoulders. You both grin in unison upon the completion of your mission. 

“You’ve got a mouth on you, Little Maniac,” Mingi teased you. 

You tighten your legs around Mingi, mentally willing him to carry you out of here but not remove his cock from inside of you. He wasn’t even softening inside of you. “I can show you what else my mouth can do if you get us out of here right now.”

Mingi’s eyes roll into the back of his head but his feet start moving immediately. “Why do I feel like you’re in control now and not me?”

You lay your head on his shoulder contently. “Because I am.”

🩵Day Nine: Seonghwa | Masterlist | Day Eleven: Yeosang ❤️

[sleepyicon]

keenry- robby’s pov (i’m insane)

I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT BEFORE PART 3

keenry tory’s pov: https://www.tumblr.com/sleepyicon/773121101619429376/keenry-torys-pov

s2

“there’s good in everyone. she just has to be shown the right way”

s3

taking tory up on her offer to go to the zoo. he’s done running away.

grabbing the snake with his bare hands to please tory and the other cobras

s4

robby offering to help tory up when he took her down in a fight

robby having tory stand by his side as he makes his speech to to the cobras. he views tory as an equal.

robby once again offering to help tory up when he takes her down

robby asking tory where her new job is, but respects her not wanting to share

robby once again respecting her boundaries when he found out tory had a shitty day, even making a light hearted joke out of it

robby asking tory if she’s going to prom and amused when she asks him

robby assuring tory that he understands her when she calls her motivations to win the tournament stupid

robby accepting tory when she rests her head against his and telling her that he didn’t care about sam and miguel, which gave her the courage to feel the same

robby jumping into the fight at stingray’s after party to help tory

robby not caring when tory pulled him into the pool and laughing with her

robby complimenting tory’s dancing and karate skills and laughing with her when she mentioned she was going to return her dress

robby initiating kissing her

robby and tory sparring together and robby smiling up at tory when she lands on top of him

robby throwing his gi to tory before his final fight (i saw the way piper looked at tory after ik this means something)

robby telling tory that he’s alright and that she should focus on her fight when she checks on him after his loss, not wanting her to worry about his own baggage before her big fight

robby’s struggling right now, but he STILL SHOWS UP FOR TORY’S FIGHT AND WISHES HER LUCK!!

robby cheering with the other cobras when tory wins, he’s no longer rooting for cobra kai, but he is rooting for tory

s5

robby telling his dad “i could be at home right now with tory” when he finds out johnny lied to him about why they were really in mexico. she was on his minddd

robby shouting her name across the water park

robby looking out for tory by attempting to convince her to take a break from cobra kai, and trying to understand tory’s decision not to (yes his ultimatum at the end of this ep was shitty, but he knew cobra kai was causing damage and i’m glad he ultimately stood up to it in the end)

“there’s some others in cobra kai i care about too” we all know that means tory.

robby showing concern for something potentially happening to tory when she doesn’t show up for her sekai taikai qualifier match

robby looking at and nodding to her after his speech to silver, noticing that her loyalty to silver is fading and that he’s there for her

robby trying to get into contact with tory later that day

robby immediately noticing tory’s hand and asking what happened to it, seemingly not believing her when she tells him it was a training accident

robby smiling at tory when she looks out for the both of them due to their probation

robby (kinda) putting his arm in front of tory when silver walks over to the both of them (what i like about this scene is that silver is the one who set them up, and now they’re both against him)

robby apologizing to tory for abandoning her and respecting that she’s tired (which after everything, i definitely believe that was her true reason to not want a longer conversation) and just wants to kiss

s6

likely, tory was the first person robby went to when he got to school to show that he was reinstated

robby wanting to help tory and sam become friends and going along with miguel’s double date idea, but he sets the record straight with tory when she seems uncomfortable, while still trying to encourage her to give her a chance

also robby calling bs (with his eyes) when tory tells him that she’s not avoiding sam

robby’s sekai taikai pact with tory (do i even need to say more?)

robby looking absolutely CRUSHED when he sees that tory rejoined cobra kai

robby conversing with the cobra kai’s at their hotel in barcelona and his face softening the second he sees tory, and then attempting to run after her

robby smiling at tory when they were taking their captain’s photo and then going after her as soon as it was done

robby having an honest and heartfelt with tory about cobra kai in the aquarium (this scene was so beautiful and absolutely cut short by sam invading their privacy for some reason??)

robby trying to stay away from cobra kai and their challenges, only participating when kwon eggs him on by mentioning his gf is on their team and then agreeing to a bet with kwon (which in my opinion is very unlike him)

robby going to tory’s room in the middle of the night and assuring her that she’s not making things worse for him when she thinks that she is

robby being extremely unfocused during the tournament due to tory putting them on pause and competing for a rival team

robby being jealous of tory and kwon

robby being so heartbroken and off balance due to no longer having tory and screwing up the tournament that he drinks, possibly for the first time and getting extremely drunk

robby attempting to fight kwon when he tells him that he’ll keep tory warm, but being too drunk to do it (once again, all of this is unlike him)

robby did not come to play in his fight against kwon when he discovered that kwon played him by faking a relationship with tory. as johnny said, robby was making it hurt

robby apologizing to tory for letting her and kwon get to his head, saying that he knows himself and her better than that.

“did any of it include me” when tory said that she never should have let herself believe in any of it AJDMFIFNEKSKGNRODN

after kwon rudely interrupted them, he told tory to get home safe and that he would see her there. he was determined to figure things out with her (don’t even get me started with this “oh it’s one sided and toxic” shit TORY’S NOT IN THE RIGHT HEADSPACE RN SHE’S STILL A GRIEVING CHILD, EVIDENT BY THE FACT THAT SHE WAS HOLDING HER AND HER MOM’S MAGIC JEWEL WITH A SAD LOOK ON HER FACE. SHE WAS ELIMINATED FROM THE TOURNAMENT THAT SHE WAS IN FOR HER MOM! AND SHE HAS PROVEN MULTIPLE TIMES THAT SHES A GOOD PARTNER, BUT SHE CANT BE PERFECT ALL THE TIME MY GOD wait this is supposed to be a robby post anyways)

robby pulling a badass double kick to save tory from zara during the tournament brawl

robby telling zara that it’s not even close when she questions him choosing tory over her (more like there’s no decision at all you stupid abuser)

robby and tory fighting together!!!

robby and tory standing next to each other in the aftermath of the brawl, both of them devistated after kwon’s death

shout out to all the times he looks back when tory looks at him across every season

[nahisummerhold]

Heard it on the Grapevine

Daily Writing Challenge February 2025 Day Four - Salty

The solicitor’s office was neat as a pin, books lined the built-in shelves, knots in the wood making for a more decorative look over standard milled lumber, the cabinets that held their files were burnished and warm, blown glass vases and bowls in blues and green decorated surfaces around the office. Ornate carpets in the same shades as the displayed artwork covered the floors. The office was opulence reined in to dance a fine line on being too showy for such a serious business.   

The woman that walked in was wearing a tailored black knee length pinstriped skirt that hugged the curves of her hips and legs perfectly, a testament to the skill of her tailor. A long sleeve yellow-gold silk blouse exposed a vee of mahogany skin and a simple necklace in gold with a teardrop blue topaz. The one nod to her sometimes flashy nature were muted gold stilettos with ankle straps. She was in the colors of House Summerhold, a reminder that she was the heiress to the noble house, no matter that it was not much more than a mansion and some lovely lands with rolling hills, and just enough income to cover expenses. Smiling, Nahivli reached out to shake the hands of the woman and man that were waiting for her.

“You asked us to let you know if any odd charges came across the estate expenses,” a regal woman said as she led Nahilvi into the boardroom, gesturing for her to take a seat. “There have been unusual activity that need some attention, I hope you got our note that your uncle would be joining us as well?”

It was why Nahi had dressed as she did, even professional attire could be armor if used correctly, “I did, it will be interesting to hear what the estate manager has been doing since I last saw him and acquired his agreement in how the legalities of the estate were arranged.” She had actually blindsided him and his children who assumed she and her mother had died with her father when Kael’thas’ forced were defeated in Tempest Keep. Having walked in with a number of legal documents, she arranged for her mother and step-father to have a little house that overlooked the ocean, an formal agreement for her family to remain on the estate as long as they left her mother in peace and a reminder to them that they were not truly in charge of the estate, just managing it for as long as she would allow. 

Really, she wasn’t sure she wanted the estate and title, but she also did not want to give up control of the home where her mother and stepfather were living and her uncle was untrustworthy at best. He had not been the author of the worst of her emotional torment when she was young, but he certainly had not helped with his insinuations that Nahilvi was not Mianos, her father’s, child, combined with picking at her when the chances arose. So, maybe she was a little petty, but everyone had their moments in that, right?

“What are these expenses?” She asked and before the woman could answer the door opened and her uncle Hoovanil and cousin Hamdil entered. 

Her cousin walked over and kissed her cheek, “Nahi, you should come and visit, I would love to introduce you to my children.” 

A pang of guilt hit her for a moment but her expression never changed, “I will have to see what I can do.” Then she turned her attention to her uncle, refusing to get up out of her seat, a small power play in making him come to her like a person having to pay respects in a court. 

“Niece,” Hoovanil said as he walked into the room and taking a seat opposite her, “what is this about? I thought that all the arrangements were handled the last time you visited.” Hamdil took a seat next to his father, but didn’t look pleased to have to choose a side. 

With an almost imperious nod to the solicitors, she wordlessly asked them to explain, “We are here because in the agreements that you all have signed, there was a level of oversight allowed to our office to make sure the estate was being handled in the manner that it had been in the past and recently we have noticed some large expenditures.”

Nahi tipped her head, and her jaw tightened, “What kind of expenditures are we talking about?”

“It seems that there are new agricultural changes being made,” the other solicitor said and flipped through some pages then turning them so Nahi could look at them, but her eyes had gone to her uncle and cousin. Hamdil, in turn also looked to the older man,

A smooth tone flowed with Nahi’s next words, her eyes narrowing, “Agricultural changes?” 

Hoovanil sat up straighter with a glare and a small sneer, “I am trying to make the estate successful again like it was when my grandfather took possession of it.”

“What is your plan?” She was trying to be polite and calm, but even Hamdil was looking surprised at his father, so it was tough to allow her uncle to speak. 

“A winery,” Hoovanil said simply, not saying anything else.

Hamdil sighed, “Dad…”

With a wave of his hand the elder Summerhold dismissed his son, which made Nahi tense. Hamdil had been her protector through much of her youth and to see him waved aside did nit earn her uncle any brownie points.

“We looked into the viability of your investments,” the first solicitor said. “It takes at least three years to grow vines to a stage where you can even consider bottling. Then it takes aging of the wine before you can consider marketing it.” 

Hamdil continued to look at his dad then stood, “What the fuck are you thinking? Those hills can’t be planted, you know that.” 

“It is a good plan, all the land on the hills is going without use.” Hoovanil replied just as angrily, “And if she…” he waved his hand at Nahi, “Isn’t going to support us, then I have to do something. Banictusia thinks it is a good idea too.”

“My wife?” “His wife?” Hamdil and Nahi said at the exact time.

Bringing her fingers up to press in front of her ears. “So, we now have the starting of a vineyard that the estate can’t support financially, so you and Hamdil’s wife can get back at me, for not just giving you money?” It was so difficult to get her the modulated, thank goodness for her voice lessons, Nahi could begin to feel actual rage starting to seep through, oddly enough that only seemed to happen when dealing with her family. Turning to look at the solicitors with a practiced smile, “How much did this drain the accounts?”

They looked at one another, “Nothing, when the charges came through we called this meeting and locked the purchases until we could get your clearance, Lady Summerhold.” 

And this… this is why she paid them, even if her finances were tighter than she ever wanted them to be. “Thank you both.” Turning back to her uncle and her cousin, “Uncle Hoovanil, you are no longer the estate manager for the Summerhold property. Hamdil, are you willing to take on the responsibility?” 

Running a hand through his hair, “I can’t Nahi.”

The three words stung, in the past three months now had two men she cared about say about the same thing to her. “Alright. If one of the family can not manage the estate, I will find an outside source.” She nodded to the solicitors and they returned it, Nahi really didn’t have the money for this but she would make it work somehow. 

Turning to look at her relatives, she tipped her head to the side, “I need the two of you to understand something, I am on the edge of asking for you to leave the property, but I do not want to hurt you, or make a decision in haste.”

“You are not even our blood!” Hoovanil screamed, standing and knocking back his chair. 

Hamdil stood too, placing a hand on his father’s chest, “Sorry Nahi.” 

Continuing to sit still, with her feet planted on the ground feeling she needed that support. It is not like it was the first time she heard those venomous words. 

“I will sue you, have the estate ripped from your hands,” he continued to yell at her. 

Looking to the solicitors, “Can you make sure that the staff remains paid, but absolutely no financial support goes to my family?”

They looked at one another, it was a big ask and probably they couldn’t do it, but she needed to keep her head and think of things that had to be handled, but her money was limited. “We will see what we can do.”

Maybe what she saved on not paying her family would cover some of the costs. Looking back at her family, her face expressionless, “Hamdil, you know I love you, but your father and wife are out of control. This needs to be handled quietly, if it is not then I will have to ask you to move off the property, you understand that, right? You really need to understand that.”

The look her cousin gave her almost broke her heart, he couldn’t choose who his father was, but she was glad of it as she truly loved him. He nodded, “When you hire someone I will work with them Nahi. You are not in this alone.” 

The logic part of her understood, so she nodded, “Thank you.”

His choice started her uncle in a new round of hysterics so she stood, completely ignoring him and smiled at her solicitors, “I will be in touch so we can go over the arrangements.” Smoothing her skirt she walked by her cousin and touched his shoulder, then walked out of the office, Summerhold colors on full display.h

@daily-writing-challenge

[velvet-apricots]

A series of Codexs i wrote about my Rook. Taken from this post.

Note found in Rook’s pocket

A note of poetry with deep creases indicating its been folded and unfolded many times. The lettering is written in a neat, loopy cursive in emerald green ink

Eyes of spring beheld by my eyes of winter

Hair of autumn betwixt my weathered fingers

Lips like berries and all for me to devour

My clever bird, my darling Rook

May your hands forever more hold my heart

For as long as it remains beating

E.V

An entry from Rook’s journal

I dreamed about Weisshaupt the other night. All those Wardens we couldn’t help. Davrin said there were a thousand of them. Now there are only a quarter of that. Solas said it was a victory. I don’t know what to think.

Varric said it helps to say or write out what did go right so-

I got to punch the First Warden in the face

An Archdemon is dead. 

Davrin is alive. 

Ghilan’nain is mortal. 

That's four good things. I am particularly glad that Davrin is alright. 

Solas also said that I may have to sacrifice someone to win. I said that I was ready… But I am not. I refuse to let that happen. No one in my team will die. Call it childish, but I won’t be like him. I am already on the right track, given Davrin somehow got out not dead. No idea why, but Bellara says it probably has to do with Ghilan’nain being out of the fade and back in the real world. Something about the soul and stuff.

I don’t remember. I’m not smart like her.

Rook's Shopping List

A list written in a messy scrawl that drifts downward across the page.

Lucanis, please buy these for me. I have to go somewhere with Bellara. No time to get it myself. I left some money to pay for it.

Lipstick. Cherry red. (For me. Last pot was dropped into blighted water. Davrin said I should throw it away.)

Pistachios. Roasted and salted (for me to snack on)

Chocolate (also for me. I need it)

Honey (to make honey roasted almonds as we have way to many of them now)

Beans (for Emmrich. He can't just eat yams and fruit)

Several sacks of Flour (also for Emmrich. Needed for Seitan)

Jam, preferably cherry or apple (for Harding, wants me to try her ham and jam slams again with “proper jam”. Pray for me.)

Spicy Peppers (For Taash to add to their food)

A message between two companions about Rook

A series of messages written in Davrin and Neve’s handwriting.

Should we be worried about Rook? She keeps talking about Varric like he’s still around. - Davrin

What do you mean by “like he’s still around”? - Neve

I mean she’s saying stuff like “I am going to go talk to Varric” then she goes and talks at his stuff like he's actually there. But he's not. He’s dead. Doesn’t that bother you? - Davrin

I have seen people react to loss in similar ways in my work. They talk to the person they lost like there are there. To help them sort their thoughts. It’s a form of coping with grief. I am sure Emmrich would be able to explain it better than I can. - Neve

And watch him fuss over her like a mother hen at dinner? Not a chance. - Davrin

Letter from Rook to their love interest

Emmrich,

Amatus. That's all I want to call you. It's all I chant in my head (along with your name). I feel like a little girl gushing over a boy who shoved mud in her face (not that you ever would).

I can’t write poetry but I can tell you that I want to call you Amatus. Do you know what that means? It means beloved. That is what you are to me.

When we next meet in private. I want you to leave with my name chanting in your head too. Not Rook. But my real name. I think you will like my name. It’s a flower, and you like flowers. 

- The letter is signed with a lipstick mark.

A letter to Rook from a family member or close friend

A letter lost in the chaos of Elgar’nan’s attack on Minrathous. Stained with blood and blight, sealed with the wax seal of Legatus Charon Mercar

My Sweet Rabbit,

Never apologize. You did what you had to.

I will be waiting for you in Ventus. Do not die. You are not allowed to. Not until I see you again.

Love, 

Papa

A note/letter that Rook never sent

An unsent, unfinished letter. Crumpled up and left near the fireplace.

Dear Hawke,

I hope this letter finds you well. You do not know me, but I knew Varric, and you through him. I am Rook, and I traveled with him to stop Solas. I knew him for only six months, but I considered him a wonderful friend and a great mentor.

I send you this letter to tell you that 

I regret to inform you 

I am grieved to say 

Harding probably already told you that

He meant a lot to me

 I have his belongings still and 

The remainder of the letter carries on the same way until there is no more room to write.

[tweedvamp]

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE JUST ONE CHANCE

[mbccari]

Today I offer Zoya 🙂‍↕

(repost bc I noticed a mistake ough)

[i-am-xp-64]

Dayum, another trauma dumping reblog, somehow I love it and got considered at the same time when I see these

...

I'mma join anyway-

TW// messed up shit-

I saw an actual suicide attempt in real life back in 2024 when I were 17 at the mall, she didn't jumped tho, the cops took her at time

A man try sensually harass me by quickly squeeze my chest and walk of, but he missed and end up hitting my rib instead

I tell my therapist that once near by day I jump out of the bus at a different stop because I want to walk and she thought I was jump IN FRONT of a bus when I first tell her-

At near days of January I had a fight with a friend (I won't tell who) and it got a lot heated that I get out of the house at night and had a huge breakdown at the side road (a car stop by to help and them my brother came to take me)

At my 18th birthday, I was at my mom's workplace after the course and her friends throw me a little birthday party with a cake and a lot gifts, and I were so hyped, but while going hope I slowed realize I legally an adult now and I lost my only chance to be a child while I was still a legal minor so at home at the second party (the one I celebrate with my family) I were all soulless and disappointed that I didn't even stay at the room for any longer than 30 minutes

Once while I was still at high school, I stole mom's vape and smoked a little (not addicted, just because it was tasty so I took it)

Once I was assumed with stealing like around 3000$ or some money from my mom's course friend's purse because when they were going in for a exam, they left their bags with me at a near by cafe and the workers thought since I was there Alone near only, I might have done it (then we go to check the cameras and they realized it was not me, never knew who stole the money tho)

I accidentally lock my room's door from the inside while I was outside so I had a meltdown anger because of it, then mom called and she sent dad to open it

I need to hide ramen noodles from my dad to eat it because when he sees it, he acts like I always eat it (I eat it like the rarest ever-)

I tolded my old online therapist that I SH before and she asked me to show it (the scars were at my collar bone and upper chest so showing it to the camera was a little awkward moment)

Once I vent to a fresh one friend about my suicide thoughts and he shamed me a lot about it and told me to break up with my bf if I ever try attempting (I didn't), he then claims that he will die of asthma but turns out he was didn't even that close to it-

I find my sa story so weird that I feel like if I tell and then tell how it effect me, people will attack me (don't ask please, I'm not ready)

Ok enough-

@weirdsillycreature @astrodrawz @victiniiiii @ella-the-fella @anna-cute-049 @alexfreakkkk ngl barely tag anyone different so I'll just tag the gang here

Weeeeee-

I’m bored so new tag chain:

Trauma dump about something that happened in school, I’ll go first.

One time when I was in middle school/junior high, My science class was doing this thing where the teacher would ask us a question and we’d have like 10 minutes to figure it out, write the answer down on the whiteboards we’d been given, and then hold it up for him to see. Simple, right?

Here’s the thing, this class housed some of the worst fuckers the school had to offer and one of them was just writing shitty jokes down and holding them up for the class to see, distracting us. At one point the teacher snapped, grabbed the whiteboard out of his hand, chucked it at the wall full force, and screamed at him to stop.

that was the only time i’de ever seen him mad.

@spooki-pooks @solaryayy @stanley-the-coolest @bonsai-wonders @chatter-crow @chill-bert @gothiestarzsuki @stories-i-guess @stormcloudsarepretty @violetthunderstorm @ethan-torchios-bitch @the-archivists-plus-one @biblically-accurate-bastard @ilov3b00kss0much @kai480 @existential-grackle @cricket-the-clown + Anyone else who wants to join!