#I'm not going to stop talking about this apartment

[ellewritesx]

breach of contract

(part six of the sugar, baby series)

Summary: You give him silence. He gives you the truth.

Warnings: sugardaddy arrangement, mentions of past sex, lots of feels, that's it really

A/N: hi lovelies! a lot of you had a lot of different opinions on how this part should go. i wrote it in a way that feels natural to harry and y/n, and to me as the author. i hope you guys love it as much as i do!!! a song that really helped me while writing is ''back to december (taylor's version)'' by taylor swift which captures this part perfectly imo, definitely recommend listening to it as you read this x

Word Count: 3,531

...

The gallery is bathed in a soft light, the kind that glazes over skin and oil paint alike, smearing everything in gold. The room is warm with conversation, the low chatter of art lovers sipping cheap wine and throwing around words like ''contrast'' and ''intent''.

You stand somewhere near the center, smiling softly for the camera, one arm thrown around your friend's shoulder as she beams proudly in front of the exhibit wall.

You're in one of the photos. Well, you are the photo. Printed large, mounted on white canvas, your silhouette lit with honeyed shadows and smoke. You helped out with the shoot weeks ago, before everything fell apart. Before Harry stopped asking you to come over. Before you stopped waiting for him to ask.

Your friend had begged to take your photo when one of her models canceled last-minute. Something about an accident on the highway causing ''an impossible traffic jam, Y/N''. Despite your initial reluctance, you agreed. It was mortifying, being in front of the camera. You had felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you recalled the events to Harry later that same night.

He'd said he would come. Said it so casually, in passing, fingers brushing your hip absentmindedly in bed. You didn't really believe him then, and you definitely don't now.

You wear something new tonight. Bought with your own money. A slip dress in a color that makes your skin glow and your eyes sharper than usual. You didn't put on much makeup, didn't fuss with your hair, prioritizing your own comfort. It'll be a long night, after all.

You don't see him at first.

But he sees you.

Harry walks in through the side entrance, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark wool coat. His hair is pushed back haphazardly, his jaw unshaven, like he hasn't really slept in a few days. He hasn't. Not properly, not since you walked out. The air in the gallery is cooler than he expected, but the moment he sees you there, speaking animately to a cluster of strangers, lit softly by gallery lights like the portrait of you on the wall, his skin heats from the inside.

He had worried he would never see your face again. He was sure you wouldn't hear him out if he asked, and he wouldn't know what to say to you even if you did. But then he remembered you mentioning it, offhandedly, weeks ago. Laying in his bed, bare-legged and sleepy, lips sticky from wine and your marshmellow lip balm. You had laughed bashfully, said something like, "She's showing her exhibition next month. I think she's using one of the shots I'm in. Can you believe it, Harry? Me? Hanging in an art gallery?"

He'd told you he would come. He wasn't sure if he would. Hadn't cared at the time. Or pretended not to.

But now he's here.

And there you are. Fucking radiant.

You're laughing, head tipped back, a glass of wine dangling from your fingers. There's a group of people around you, friends of your friend, probably. One of the guys leans in a bit too close when he talks, not quite flirting, but not just being friendly either.

Harry doesn't blink. Just watches.

Jealousy washes over his body like a current, but he doesn't move. Doesn't stomp over and drag you by the wrist like that night at the bar. He stays near the back, one hand clenched around a drink that's too weak for he's liking. He's not even sure how he got here. It's like he's been sleepwalking for weeks, just going through the motions, only snapping out of it when he saw you just now.

He doesn't belong here. Not in this state, wrinkled blouse, hair curled messily over his ears, a tiredness under his eyes that's deeper than just insomnia. It's regret. Resignation. But he's not leaving either.

And then you feel it.

That prickle at the base of your neck. The weight of his gaze.

You don't turn immediately, don't give in to the urge to search the room for that presence, looming in a dark corner like a storm cloud. But something in you stills. Anchors. When you finally glance over your shoulder, when your eyes land on the tall figure standing at the far edge of the gallery, spine straight against a wall, you know.

He came.

His eyes meet yours across the room. He doesn't look away.

Your stomach drops.

He looks out of place, like he didn't mean to be here but couldn't stay away. Dark trousers, open collar, silver rings glinting as he tugs his hand through his hair. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Like he's been unraveling by the hour.

His jaw is set. You know that look. That rigid line of his jaw, clenched so tightly it could shatter teeth. You've seen it in bars and on planes, in arguments that left you breathless and silent treatments that lasted days. It's his tell, his dead giveaway. That he's spiraling. That he's seconds from doing something he'll regret.

And yet tonight, he stays rooted. One hand loose at his side, the other clutching his drink. Breathing through it. Usually he would have stalked over immediately, pulled you by the wrist, caused a scene. But he's not approaching, and that's the strangest part.

Harry Styles doesn't do restraint. Or at least, he didn't. Especially not when it came to you, when it came to his belongings. Every emotion he felt was something he let devour him, let spill onto you like a heavy rainfall: jealousy, fury, lust.

But now, standing across the gallery floor, you see the restraint in every inch of his body. The way he doesn't interrupt. Doesn't insert himself. Doesn't act like he owns you. And that quiet refusal to unravel says more than any apology ever could.

You're not sure why it matters so much, this one, subtle thing. The way he just stands there and watches. The way he lets you laugh and drink and exist without immediately laying claim. But it does matter. It matters because for once, you don't feel like a possession being policed. You feel like a person. Like someone he sees as separate from him. And God, that shouldn't feel revolutionary… but it does.

Your heart kicks up, but you don't let it show. Instead, you lift your chin and hold your ground as you approach him, deliberately, taking your time. And you're surprised he lets you. Doesn't try to assert dominance by beating you to it. Doesn't move to meet you halfway. For once, he just... watches you come to him on your own terms.

''Didn't think you'd come,'' you say, voice light.

His eyes flick toward the man not far behind you, the one who's already engaged in another conversation but keeps shooting you discreet glances, checking you out. He doesn't comment on it.

''You look good,'' he says instead, eyeing you up and down. His face is indifferent, but his voice is soft, vulnerable. You wouldn't have been able to tell if you didn't know him as well as you do.

You nod once. ''Thanks. I bought the dress myself.''

The words land like a knife. A silence stretches between you, taut and sparkling with tension. You don't offer him comfort. He doesn't reach for you. It's the first time you feel like you're equals.

''Well, it looks beautiful on you. You're beautiful,'' he tells you sincerely, offering you a small nod.

You quirk a brow in suspicion and meet his gaze, steady and unflinching. "Why are you really here, Harry?"

He swallows, hesitating. You don't say ''You weren't supposed to come''. Because he knows that. You don't say ''I didn't want to see you''. Because it would be a lie.

He says nothing for a moment. Then, quietly, "I said I'd come."

You stare at him. ''That was before.''

He nods. ''Still meant it.''

You don't know what to say to that. You blink.

Your mouth opens, then closes. He watches you carefully, as if memorizing your reaction. You can tell he wants to say more, it's clear in the way his lips part, the way his hands fidget subtly at his sides, but he stops himself. You notice it.

You glance back at your friends, who are entertaining a group of visitors that has just arrived while sending you looks that scream ''help!''. You're the one who's supposed to be showing people around the gallery, a task you didn't sign up for, but surprisingly haven't minded doing as much as you thought you would.

''They're waiting for me,'' you say quietly.

''I can wait too.''

That makes you pause.

Harry Styles. Waiting. He's been doing a lot of that today. Waiting for you to come to him, for you to speak. Let's see how long he's willing to wait before he loses his patience.

You nod slowly. ''Okay. Then wait.''

You walk away.

...

Harry doesn't know what he expected, showing up like this. All he knows is that when he opened that last box and saw the necklace, the one he'd put so much thought into, just imagining about how it would rest beneath your collarbone, something cracked. And the silence since then has been loud in a way money can't fix.

You had sent everything back. And yet, he still smells you in his apartment. Still hears your soft laughter in the way the air feels at night. Still wakes up reaching for something that isn't there.

He hadn't planned on coming. Not really. But his car pulled up to the gallery anyway, and he was already halfway through the doors before he realized what he was doing. Something about that damn necklace. The cold finality of it. The way it curled around itself in the box like it understood the weight of the gesture.

And now he's here. And he can't stop looking at you.

You're alive in a way he hasn't seen in days. Weeks, maybe. Your lips shine under the gallery lights, and your dress fits you like a glove, accentuating all your features.

Every second you don't look at him slices clean through the center of his chest.

He tells himself this is fine. You're allowed to live your own life. To have your own space. That's what he's supposed to do, right? Give you space? That's what a better man would do. And after that night, after the way he had let himself take out his anger on you, then discarded you like he couldn't even stand to be around you, he knows he doesn't get to decide anything anymore.

Still, his hands curl into fists every time someone leans in too close to whisper something in your ear.

Especially the guy in the grey blazer, who's had his hand on your waist for a beat too long. Harry swears the floor tilts beneath him.

He wants you to know he's here. Wants you to feel his presence, even if you won't touch him.

He wouldn't blame you if this was what you wanted. If that dress, that laugh, that softness you're wrapping the room in isn't meant for him anymore. Because maybe he really did ruin it. Maybe all the years of being wanted for what he could give, not who he was, have made it impossible for him to understand when someone chooses to stay. Maybe he wouldn't believe you ever would.

But he can't stop thinking about the way you curled into his side after he fucked you. The way your fingertips would brush his wrist when you were trying to say something you weren't sure he was ready to hear. The way you always bite the inside of your cheek when you try to stifle a giggle at one of his dumb jokes.

He can't stop thinking about that night in Paris. Not about the sex. Not about the view. Just the way you both stayed up talking long after the room went quiet, wine glasses half-full on the nightstand, your eyes sparkling in the dim light when you told him he wasn't as unreadable as he liked to think. That you saw through him. And that maybe that didn't have to be such a bad thing.

That was the moment he started to lose.

No, started to fall.

He doesn't want to admit it, not even now. He's not sure he's ready. But he's never been able to forget it.

And that necklace? He doesn't want it in a box. He wants it where it belongs, around your neck, where everybody can see it. Not to claim you. But to remind himself that not everything has to be bought to be cherished. That you chose him.

You glance in his direction, your eyes meeting across the room. You've been waiting. Not out of cruelty or revenge. Well, revenge is definitely a bonus. But mainly because you want to know what he'll do if you don't come running to him for once.

The look in your eyes does something to him. Because when you finally look at him, it's not cold. It's not kind, either. It's something in between. Something that tells him you're still deciding.

He straightens.

Because if you're still deciding… he still has a chance.

He takes a step forward. Your facial expression doesn't change. You don't stop him, but you don't turn toward him either.

So he waits. Just one more second. One more breath. If you want him to come to you, you'll make it clear. And if not… he'll stay here. He'll wait all night.

But if you give him the signal, any signal, he'll cross the fucking floor like he's reaching for salvation. He's not sure when it happened, but somewhere between the first payment and the last goodbye, he stopped wanting to own you.

And started wanting to deserve you.

You nod.

A small, almost imperceptible movement, but he catches it like a bullet to the chest. That tiny gesture is all the permission he's been holding out for. His limbs uncoil, and he moves, slow, cautious, like you're a flame he's afraid to smother. Or be burned by.

You excuse yourself from your group, ignoring the teasing grin your friend throws over her shoulder. Your heels click softly against the gallery's marble floors, the sound steady despite the unstable pounding in your chest. You don't wait to see if he follows.

You already know he will.

The elevator ride is silent. You press the button for the rooftop, never turning to look at him. You can feel his presence like a pull on your skin, taut and tense, straining between want and hesitance. The metal doors close and it's just you two now, caught in that strange in-between where anything could happen and nothing might.

When the doors slide open, you're the first to step out into the cool air. The rooftop is empty, just like you hoped. Everyone else is still inside, drinking, mingling, discussing art. The afterparty isn't for a few hours, so it's quiet here, the hum of the bustling city below you like a soft lullaby. String lights cast a faint golden glow overhead, softening the edges of everything.

But not him.

He's all sharp lines and shadows when he steps up beside you. Hands tucked into his coat pockets, jaw clenched, curls ruffled from the wind and repeatedly running his hand through them.

You stand with your arms crossed over your chest, pretending to admire the skyline while your pulse thunders under your skin. He lingers a few feet behind, just close enough for you to feel him. The heat of his body. The heaviness of his stare.

You can tell he's working something out in his head, because he's quiet, but you don't speak right away. Let the silence stretch, let it test him. Because the last time he opened his mouth, you walked out of his apartment with shaking hands and mascara-stained cheeks.

He breaks first.

''I didn't know if I'd ever see you again.''

You inhale slowly. ''And yet you came.''

His eyes flicker to yours. ''Said I would.''

''You said a lot of things, Harry.''

You hear the shift in his breath, a sharp inhale like he's bracing himself. ''You're angry.''

''No,'' you say. ''I'm tired.''

The words hit heavier than they should. He takes a tentative step closer, like he's afraid of startling you over the edge. ''Look, I didn't come here to fight—''

''Then why are you here?” You face him fully now, arms still folded as if to shield yourself from the upcoming conflict. ''Because if you're looking for a reason to punish me again, I'm fresh out.''

He flinches. ''I'm not. I'm not... Fuck. That night, I wasn't trying to—''

''You were angry,'' you cut in. ''And I was convenient. That's the whole point of the arrangement, isn't it?''

''No. It's not.'' His voice sharpens. ''It wasn't supposed to go like this.''

''But it did.''

He looks at you then, and you know he sees it, the shift in you. How this version of you doesn't cry, doesn't beg. You're not trying to change his mind or shrink yourself down just to fit into whatever space he was willing to make for you.

He runs a hand through his hair. ''You think I don't know I fucked up? That night... I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at myself. For letting it get that far. For wanting more. I lashed out. Because that's what I do, isn't it? I ruin things before they can ruin me.''

You look at him then, really look at him. And what you see isn't the controlled, calculated man who drew up contracts and handed you credit cards like they were shackles physically bounding you to him.

What you see is a man who's unraveling in front of you, who's scared, who's hurting, who doesn't know how to ask to be loved without bleeding out.

''You didn't just ruin things,'' you say softly. ''You ruined me, Harry.''

He looks like he might fall apart.

Your voice is steadier than you feel when you continue. ''I spent weeks wondering what I did wrong. What I could've said, or done, to make you want to keep me around. When I didn't hear from you after that night, I told myself that was it. That I needed to be strong. That if this was going to end, I'd end it with dignity.''

That shuts him up.

For a moment, all you can hear is the faint thump of music through the floor, the whistle of the wind around the rooftop. You glance over and find him staring at you like he's never seen you before. Or maybe like he's finally seeing you clearly.

''I got the boxes,'' he says suddenly.

Your stomach tightens. You look away, suddenly fascinated by a crack in the concrete beneath your feet. ''Good.''

Something cracks in his chest then. You see it, the way his jaw clenches, how he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek like he's trying not to say something stupid.

''You returned everything,'' he says softly. ''Your dresses. Your perfume. That fucking necklace.''

Your fingers instinctively curl around the necklace you're wearing now. It doesn't mean nearly as much to you as that fucking daisy does. You miss it. The comfort of it, the reminder of Harry.

''You returned everything but the memories.''

You blink. ''What?''

''I've been going insane, Y/N,'' he chokes out, tugging on his hair in frustration. No, desperation. ''I've been moving through my apartment like a fucking zombie. I can't walk into my kitchen without seeing your coffee mug. I can't open my closet without thinking of you in my hoodie. You're not there, but it's like you never left.''

You watch him struggle. Watch him grip the railing before him like it's the only thing holding him upright, before continuing.

''Everything still smells like you. Your shampoo's in the shower. I find your hair ties everywhere. I can't throw out that fucking flower. And those boxes... Those boxes gutted me. Because you didn't just return my money. You returned everything that connected us. Every single thing I used to not lose the privilege of calling you mine.''

You swallow thickly, caught between wanting to scream and wanting to kiss him. ''It was in the contract,'' you say evenly.

''To hell with the contract,'' he spits, voice cracking. ''I'm fucking in love with you.''

The rooftop goes still.

Your heart slams into your ribs like it's trying to claw out of your chest. His eyes widen, terrified of what he just admitted, but there's a strange sense of relief in his expression too, like he just came up for a deep breath after nearly drowning.

You stare at him, lips parted, frozen in place. You don't move. Don't blink. The words hang between you like a match, suspended and burning. Harry stares at you, chest rising and falling heavily, like confessing the truth is the hardest thing he's ever done.

And maybe it is.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

sugar, baby series tag list

@indierockgirrl @prettygurl-2009 @cherryflavoredbyme @dipmeinhoneyh @haliastyless @drewrry @maddiesalvatore1839 @robinsue87 @zoraaasyd @sincerely-yours-marsbar @m0mmyfromtarget @maudie-duan @hoolabalooba @hisparentsgallerryy @txmhxllqnd @harringtonhundreds @freddyselmstreet @caynonmoondreams @matildasatellite @ilovezaynmalik08 @looney-goose @call1800coochie @nostalgiainmybones @billweasleyswife @hailiex @lichi-dunkera @tchlamqtsgf @kiszkas-canvas

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc @practistyles @qrapejuices

...

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing�� childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around. 

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself. 

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice. 

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language. 

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair. 

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead. 

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside. 

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened. 

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day. 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day. 

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

 “Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!” 

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out. 

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people. 

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.” 

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up. 

“You think you can scare me?” 

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you. 

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.” 

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up? 

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him. 

And you did. 

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend. 

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option. 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?” 

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!” 

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement. 

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip. 

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes. 

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam. 

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?” 

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.” 

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again. 

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous. 

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything. 

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.” 

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.” 

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again. 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.” 

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.” 

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?” 

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling. 

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?” 

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.” 

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?” 

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.” 

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?” 

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?” 

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.” 

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid. 

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.” 

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side. 

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s. 

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it? 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?” 

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind. 

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her. 

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead. 

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?” 

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…” 

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin. 

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off. 

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights. 

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more. 

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days. 

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.” 

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.” 

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances. 

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief. 

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?” 

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly. 

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble. 

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game. 

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be. 

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go. 

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked. 

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair. 

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.” 

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them. 

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.” 

“Okay, stop calling them that.” 

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.” 

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.” 

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.” 

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat. 

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.” 

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.” 

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself. 

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.” 

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.” 

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you. 

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better. 

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look. 

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes. 

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him. 

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften. 

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line. 

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated. 

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke. 

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?” 

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory. 

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke. 

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?” 

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries. 

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible. 

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.” 

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?” 

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.” 

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain. 

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen. 

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.” 

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second. 

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible. 

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.” 

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot. 

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car. 

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine. 

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good. 

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. 

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.” 

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it. 

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–” 

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can. 

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.” 

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly. 

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side. 

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head. 

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!” 

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night. 

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together. 

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?” 

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible. 

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it? 

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.” 

“And are you now?” 

“What?” 

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?” 

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else. 

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.” 

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you. 

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.” 

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.” 

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him. 

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.” 

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.” 

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?” 

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else. 

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess. 

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words. 

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own– 

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way. 

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?” 

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.” 

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat. 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.” 

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good. 

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation. 

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?” 

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes. 

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.” 

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.” 

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.” 

“What?” 

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains. 

“What is it about?” 

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit. 

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.” 

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it. 

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. 

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything. 

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.” 

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.” 

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream. 

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of. 

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now. 

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing. 

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning. 

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies. 

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real. 

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.” He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you. 

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. 

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?” 

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?” 

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?” 

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream. 

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours. 

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend. 

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.” 

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.” 

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again. 

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up. 

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling. 

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone. 

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.” 

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end. 

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious. 

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.” 

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.” 

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option. 

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for. 

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.” 

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of. 

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love. 

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.” 

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart. 

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table. 

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?” 

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could. 

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–” 

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.” 

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him. 

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you. 

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it. 

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue. 

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.” 

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day. 

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him. 

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

“Megumi, obviously.” 

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.” 

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles. 

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing. 

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now. 

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

 “All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen. 

“Why would I have a problem with anything?” 

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case. 

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.” 

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you. 

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything. 

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.” 

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.” 

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute. 

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am. 

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing. 

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario. 

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.” 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent. 

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves. 

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly. 

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room. 

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling. 

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?” 

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.” 

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you. 

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode. 

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants. 

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well. 

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?” 

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body. 

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…” 

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot. 

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth. 

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you. 

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.” 

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface. 

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary. 

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes. 

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you. 

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.” 

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?” 

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.” 

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?” 

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room. 

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips. 

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.” 

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips. 

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough. 

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.” 

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper. 

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.” 

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now. 

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun. 

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately. 

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.” 

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable. 

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these. 

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile. 

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well. 

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before. 

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief. 

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him. 

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again. 

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself. 

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing. 

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?” 

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck. 

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could. 

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body. 

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple. 

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts. 

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.” 

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago. 

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose. 

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so? 

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure. 

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously. 

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else? 

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that? 

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions. 

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom. 

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor. 

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding. 

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving. 

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.  

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good. 

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so. 

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @saejinniestar @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @heesmiles @t-102 @jellyyjn @feet4liferss @soobinieswife @yunxiang0524 @xodidarks @jellyyjn @bunniwords @cocoalmond @tteokbunni @chaotic-floral @fancypeacepersona @beomgyusluver @ros1eluvsbinnie ✶⋆

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[arkhamsknightz]

STARLIGHT // SUPERMAN HEADCANONS. CLARK KENT & JOURNALIST!READER.

content: just fluff, pure pure fluff. It's the biggest vomit of love lmao im sorry but i'm in love at this time so deal with it. I don't dare to write smut yet (i'm very rusty lol), + we don't accept snyder fans!clark here — sorry not sorry — this is the clark who would rescue a kitten from a tree so....

word count: 0,4k (almost 500 words)

notes: i'm testing the waters in the dc fandom, even though it's been too long since I've written in it, but the superman trailer is my new obsession and I can't wait for july. the brat summer hits hard, but the superman summer hits harder.

divider: @bernardsbendystraws

☆ You keep pretending not to notice when he leaves your apartment, and five minutes later "Superman" shows up to make sure you got home safe from your late assignment.

☆ Clark literally melts whenever you call him "Superman" in a teasing tone. like—he’s supposed to be the man of steel, but his knees go weak the second you smirk and say, “What’s the plan now, Superman?"

☆ You learned pretty quickly that dating the man of tomorrow comes with random date night interruptions. But he always makes it up to you. Like one time he flew in from stopping a train derailment with pastries from Paris and an "I'm sorry I missed our dinner" post-it stuck to your laptop".

☆ He’s so soft for you. Like, he’ll listen to you rant about Lex Luthor and his stupid company for an hour and then say, “You’re incredible. Do you know that?” with the most adoring look in his eyes.

☆ He's ridiculously good at remembering everything. birthdays, deadlines, how you take your coffee, and your favourite quote. He once quoted your own article back to you when you were doubting yourself, and you cried. He freaked out. tried to fly to get flowers or something.

☆ One time you tried to surprise him by bringing him lunch to the Daily Planet, and he got so flustered he nearly knocked over his desk. “You... you brought me food?” He blinked like krypto when he acts like never been fed before. Now he talks about it like it was a grand romantic gesture and not just an stupid sandwich.

☆ You once told him, half-asleep, that flying with him felt like dreaming while awake. Now he always asks, “Wanna go dream?” before lifting you into the sky.

☆ He sometimes reads over your drafts while you're out cold on the couch. leaves little notes in the margins like “love this part,” “so proud of you,” or “you spelt ‘crimes’ wrong, but you’re still my favourite reporter.”

☆ He lives for when you adjust his glasses or fix his tie before a press conference. It’s the only time he lets the whole “Clark Kent” act drop just a little and looks at you like you’re his whole world.

☆ Sometimes when you’re deep into writing, completely zoned out, he lands silently on your balcony and just watches you work for a minute—arms crossed, head tilted, that soft “I can’t believe she’s mine” smile on his face. When you finally notice him, he acts like he hasn’t been standing there like a lovesick puppy for the last five minutes.

☆ On your worst days at the paper, when deadlines crush you and the world feels heavy, he wordlessly picks you up and flies you above the clouds. No noise, no pressure—just the two of you, floating in golden light. “All of that can wait,” he whispers. “You can’t.”

[angelholic1]

Please, I'm sorry. ⋆.･࿔*:

⤷ After a big fight he say's he's sorry

pairing : rin itoshi x fem reader 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ

warning(s) : ooc? not edited, clingy, smut

It’s been three hours since the fight.

You haven’t left the apartment, but you may as well have. You’re curled up on Rin’s bed with your back to the door. You haven’t moved except to blink. You haven’t spoken since you shut down.

Rin’s been pacing the living room. Every so often, he passes by the open doorway, glancing inside like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t.

You don’t even remember how it started.

It’s always the same, anyway. He says something cold, you snap back, and then the silence starts. But this time, something had felt final about it, like you were one sentence away from walking out for real. You didn’t. You didn’t even pack a bag. But you stopped talking, and to Rin, that’s worse than screaming.

By hour four, you hear the soft knock on the doorframe.

He’s quiet for a second, like he’s waiting to be told to fuck off. When you don’t answer, he comes in anyway.

“Baby…” His voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken in a while.

You feel the mattress dip behind you, then the slow press of his body curling around yours, gentle and hesitant. His hand lands awkwardly at your hip, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you anymore.

“Talk to me, let’s fix this” he murmurs. “You don’t sleep when you’re mad at me.”

You don’t respond. But your breath shudders. That’s all he needs.

“I didn’t mean half the shit I said.” He swallows hard. “Probably more than half.”

Still nothing.

He buries his face in your shoulder, arms wrapping around you from behind. It’s not smooth or confident, it’s desperate. Tight. His grip says please don’t go even though you never stood up.

“I get so—fucking scared,” he says, breath warm against your skin. “Of how much I feel for you..”

You shift, slightly.

“I thought I was better alone. I used to be proud of that.” His voice is barely above a whisper now. “But now? When you go quiet like this, it feels like I can’t breathe.”

Your chest tightens.

He presses his forehead to your back, voice breaking. “Please say something. Even if it’s to tell me I don’t deserve you.”

You slowly roll over to face him.

Rin freezes when you look at him, his eyes narrow. He’s not used to being vulnerable. Not used to being wrong.

“You act like I’m the one who’s going to break this,” you say finally. “But you’re the one always pushing me away.”

His throat bobs. He doesn’t argue. He just nods, shame flickering across his face.

You reach up and trace your fingers along his jaw, something tender, something tired. “Why do you make it so hard to love you?”

He was silent, Instantly. Easily. Like it’s something he didn’t know the answer to.

You blink.

He continues, softer. “I love you.”

Your breath catches.

And then, without another word, you lean in and kiss him.

It’s not rough or rushed. It’s soft. Quiet. Like both of you are afraid too much pressure will break it. Rin kisses you back like he’s grateful to still be allowed, like he’s terrified this will be the last time.

His hands move slowly, almost reverently. He pulls back to look at you, breathing heavily.

“I want to fix this,” he whispers. “I just don’t know how.”

“Then let me,” you whisper back.

You shift, carefully pushing him onto his back, straddling his waist. His breath stutters as he stares up at you, hair mussed, cheeks slightly flushed. He’s gorgeous and completely wrecked. Emotionally raw, hands clenched into the sheets like he’s scared to touch you first.

You slide your shirt over your head.

Rin’s eyes widen, lips parting slightly. “Are you sure—?”

“Do you want me?” you ask.

He looks stricken. “I always want you.”

“Then shut up and let me take care of you.”

His throat works as he nods quickly, his hands finally settling on your hips, fingertips trembling.

You sink down onto him, slowly, carefully, and the gasp he lets out is somewhere between a sob and a moan. His head falls back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut like it’s too much. Too good. Too emotional.

“F-fuck—” he whispers. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You don’t,” you whisper, riding him with slow, deep rolls of your hips. “But I want you anyway.”

A shudder rips through him. “You’re too good to me.”

“You’re pathetic,” you whisper against his ear. “Clinging to me like I’m the only thing keeping you alive.”

“I am,” he breathes. “You are.”

His hands slip under your thighs, gripping tight as if anchoring himself. He watches you move above him with such awe, like you’re some fever dream he’s scared will vanish.

“You look so pretty like this,” you murmur. “Falling apart for me.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers, like he’s never been talked to like that. Like it breaks something in him.

“I’ll do anything,” he says, voice rough. “Just don’t leave. Please. Don’t ever leave.”

“I didn’t leave,” you say gently, brushing his hair back. “I was right here. You just didn’t know how to reach me.”

He pulls you down, wrapping his arms around your back, burying his face in your neck. His hips stutter up into you, desperate now, chasing friction.

“You feel so good,” he gasps. “I could die like this.”

“You’re not dying,” you say. “You’re learning.”

And then, Rin freezes.

You think maybe he’s overwhelmed or something but then suddenly he flips you over, catching you by surprise. Your back hits the bed, and Rin looms over you, breath ragged, eyes wild.

“Don’t think this means you get to leave me,” he growls.

You blink, wide-eyed. “I wasn’t—”

“I’ll beg,” he snaps, grabbing your chin. “But I’ll never fucking let you go.”

And then he slams back into you, hard, fast, rough.

You cry out, hands clutching at the sheets as he fucks you like he’s reclaiming you. Like he needs to own you to believe you’re still his.

“You want to fix things?” he pants. “Then take it. Take everything.”

Your back arches, a broken moan escaping your lips as he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

“Say it,” he snarls. “Say you’re mine. Say you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m yours—fuck—Rin, I’m not—”

“Louder.”

“I’m not leaving you!” you cry, eyes glassy. “I’m yours! I’m not leaving!”

“Good girl,” he growls, biting at your throat. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours—only yours—!”

He fucks you harder, possessive and wild, like every thrust is branding you.

“Beg for me,” he breathes. “Beg me not to let you go.”

“Please—please don’t let me go,” you whimper. “Please, Rin—”

“That’s right,” he growls, hips slamming into yours, your moans breaking into sobs. “Say it again.”

“Don’t let me go—don’t let me go, Rin—!”

He crashes his mouth onto yours, swallowing every cry, every plea, until he breaks with a groan and spills inside you. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, grinding into you until you’re shaking and gasping his name, clinging to him like you’re drowning.

“Can’t stop,” he whispers, mouth at your ear. “Need to feel you—need you to believe me.”

“I do,” you cry. “I believe you.”

And finally, finally, Rin stops.

He stays buried inside you, chest pressed to yours, his weight grounding you. His hands release your wrists and slide to your cheeks, cradling your face like you’re fragile. His breath is uneven, shaky.

“You don’t get to leave,” he says again, quieter now. “Even if I fuck this up. You stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, curling your fingers into his hair. “You’re stuck with me.”

His exhale breaks into something that almost sounds like relief. But not quite.

It’s going to take time. Work. He’ll fall apart again — but maybe next time, he’ll reach for you before it’s too late.

For now, though, Rin wraps his arms tight around you.

And you don’t let go.

[flvvffy]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . ❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋...𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 ❞

wc: 869. not proofread. anon.

your older bf!toji absolutely adored you. he loved every aspect of you. and he made sure you knew that. spending as much time as he can with you, buying you whatever you need and overall being and attentive boyfriend for you.

you loved that. very much. especially whenever he complimented you. he always called you pretty, beautiful, angel and the likes. his comments always gave you some confidence booster, but once the feeling was over, you felt like complete shit.

you disliked the face staring back at you in the mirror. the body that was attached to said face. some days you would spend hours endlessly checking yourself in the mirror, silently wishing you could change so many things. or avoiding mirrors all together.

you started wearing makeup around him and loosely fitted clothing. he had asked you about it. "why the sudden changes?", he raised at brow at you but you shrugged.

"just trying something new. i kinda hated my old style"

"i liked it. but if it's what you want you look great as always". it didn't work. you wanted him to at least say you looked better, but at the same time kinda glad you didn't really have to change yourself for him.

it got ridiculous to him when you denied getting on facetime with him. "switch to the video, baby. i wanna see ya. i missed you so much", he cooed on the other end and your chest tightened.

"i don't think that's a good idea toji..."

"hmm...how come?"

"my service is kinda shitty right now and the quality will be the same", he went silent for a while and you were praying that he believed you.

"alright. i guess your voice will do for now. but i really do miss you"

"i miss you too, toji"

but older bf!toji knew something was up. something was going on. something that you didn't feel comfortable telling him. and he was determined to find out exactly what that was.

on one random afternoon, when he knew you would be lounging at home doing whatever, he decided to show up unannounced. he got to your front door and knocked on the door.

you looked at it curiously and paused whatever you were watching on tv and opened the door, to find toji looking at you. you slammed the door in his face. that was the only response you had. you were not wearing any makeup, your hair was messy and your clothes were definetly not cute.

"what the fuck is he doing here?!?!", you held your head in frustration as he banged on the door.

"OPEN THE DOOR!", he banged his fist multiple times. "I DON'T PLAY GAMES, ANGEL. AND YOU KNOW THAT. OPEN THIS DOOR. RIGHT. NOW!", he banged again and again but you were not gonna let him enter.

"LEAVE ME ALONE", and the it stopped. it went completely silent. you let out a breathe of relief but to your utter shock he was climbing in through your window. you tall and muscular boyfriend was getting into your apartment through the window.

"WHAT THE HELL!!", you rushed to go and close the window but he was already inside and he looked pissed. he straightened his back and was walking towards you.

your back ended up against the wall as he towered over you with his imposing height. "now why would you go on and slam the door in my face. what is going on with you these days. refusing to get on video call, the excess make-up, the change in clothing style. why won't you talk to me?", his brows were creased.

you turned away, tears in your eyes and his eyes softened. he pulled you in for a hug and you cried into his chest. "let it all out, angel...let it out", he whispered as your face was buried in his chest while he's soothing your back.

he held on to you until your sobs died down and were reduced to sniffles. he lifted your face with his chin and wiped away your tears.

"am i ugly?", frozen. shocked. he almost thought he didn't hear you. was this a joke?

"absolutely not! your so gorgeous sometimes i'm jealous"

"but you're only saying that just because your my boyfriend-"

"who gave you such ridiculous ideas? you really think you're not gorgeous. you're the only face i think about when i wake up and before i go to sleep. the only body i want to press kisses all over and carry around and hear your adorable laugh. your the only person who was able to plague my mind and i think your beautiful angel...always have been and always will be", he cups your face in his hands looking deep into your eyes. "everything i'm telling you isn't because i'm just your boyfriend, but it's the way i see you. you're perfect and don't you ever forget that", you nod in his hands and he presses his lips to yours, sharing a long and passionate kiss.

older bf!toji lifts you up and you wrap your arms around his hips with a gasp and he kisses your neck. "now let mw show you just how gorgeous i think you are..."

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘

[archivegyu]

masterlist

if i could give you the moon

i would give you the moon

choi seungcheol x reader ll 9k words

The moon hung impossibly large in the night sky, casting silver light across the cityscape below. She leaned against the rooftop railing, eyes fixed on its luminous face, finding comfort in its silent presence. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional siren created a strangely peaceful urban lullaby.

She didn’t hear the roof door open, didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until they stopped beside her. Seungcheol’s familiar presence settled next to hers, his gaze following hers upward without a word. For a moment, they simply existed together in the moonlight, two silhouettes against the vastness of the night.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: October

The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as they walked through the upscale shopping district. It was her birthday, and despite her protests, Seungcheol had insisted on taking her out for the day.

"You work too hard" he'd said when he showed up at her apartment that morning. "One day off won't kill you."

Now, as they wandered through boutiques she'd normally never set foot in, she tried to ignore the price tags that made her stomach clench. Seungcheol seemed completely at ease, occasionally picking up items and asking her opinion with genuine interest.

"What do you think of this?" he asked, holding up a soft blue scarf.

She touched it hesitantly, the cashmere impossibly soft under her fingers. "It's beautiful" she admitted, checking the price tag and quickly putting it back. "But I'm just looking."

Seungcheol nodded, seemingly letting it go. But when she turned away to examine a display of notebooks; something practical she might actually be able to affor. She didn't notice him discreetly hand the scarf to a sales associate with a quick whisper.

This pattern continued throughout the day. She'd admire something, a leather-bound planner, a pair of silver earrings, a vintage edition of her favorite book. And each time, she'd talk herself out of buying anything. Each time, Seungcheol would find a moment when she was distracted to quietly ensure the item was set aside.

At a small bookstore, she lingered over a collection of poetry she'd been wanting for months.

"You should get it" Seungcheol encouraged, watching her flip through the pages.

"Maybe another time" she said, returning it to the shelf despite the longing in her eyes. "Textbooks took up all my book budget this semester."

When she moved to the next aisle, Seungcheol quickly purchased the book, the associate slipping it into a bag that disappeared into his jacket before she returned.

By late afternoon, they'd stopped for coffee at a quiet café. She looked happier than he'd seen her in weeks, relaxed in a way she rarely allowed herself to be, even if she hadn't actually bought anything.

"Thank you for today" she said, warming her hands around her mug. "I needed this more than I realized."

"The day's not over yet, Seungcheol replied with a mysteriously satisfied smile. "But you're welcome. Happy birthday."

As the evening approached, they headed back toward her apartment. Seungcheol insisted on driving her home, though her place was easily accessible by public transportation.

"I have something for you" he said as they neared her building, pulling into a parking spot.

"Cheol, you didn't need to—"

"I wanted to" he interrupted gently, reaching into the backseat where, miraculously, a large shopping bag had appeared. "It's nothing extravagant, I promise."

She accepted the bag with suspicious eyes, peering inside. Her jaw dropped as she recognized the items; the cashmere scarf, the planner, the earrings, the poetry book, and several other things she'd admired throughout the day.

"How did you—" she looked up at him, bewildered. "I didn't see you buy any of this."

Seungcheol's smile was both mischievous and tender. "I have my ways. And before you argue about it being too much, it's already done. Consider it compensation for putting up with me all year."

She ran her fingers over the soft scarf, emotions warring inside her. Pride fighting with gratitude, independence with the rare feeling of being cared for so thoughtfully.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

“Thank you works" he suggested, his eyes soft in the dimming light. "Or you could just promise to wear that scarf when it gets colder."

Something in his voice made her look up, and for a moment, the air between them seemed charged with unspoken feelings.

"Thank you" she said quietly. "Not just for the gifts, but for seeing me. What I love, what I want but won't let myself have."

Seungcheol reached across the center console, taking her hand in his. "That's easy" he said simply. "Seeing you is the easiest thing in the world for me."

The moment stretched between them, teetering on the edge of something more. But then her phone rang, her mother calling to wish her happy birthday. And the moment passed, leaving behind a lingering warmth and the unshakable feeling that something had shifted between them.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

First Year: September

The lecture hall buzzed with nervous energy as students filtered in for their first class. She clutched her notebook tightly, scanning the room for an empty seat. Years of academic excellence had earned her this scholarship, and she wasn't about to waste it by being anything less than perfect.

"Is this seat taken?"

She looked up to find a tall figure gesturing to the chair beside her. Plump lips, gentle eyes that somehow managed to be both playful and serious, and an easy confidence that spoke of privilege.

"No, go ahead" she said, sliding her bag closer to make room.

"I'm Seungcheol" he offered, extending his hand. "Choi Seungcheol."

She introduced herself, shaking his hand firmly the way her father had taught her. "Nice to meet you."

"First day nerves?" he asked, unpacking his brand-new laptop that probably cost more than her entire semester's expenses.

"Just ready to get started" she answered, not wanting to admit that yes, her stomach was in knots, and she'd barely slept last night.

The professor walked in, and the room quieted. As the syllabus was distributed, she methodically wrote down every due date, every percentage breakdown of grades. Beside her, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, seemingly relaxed but she noticed how intently he was listening, how his eyes never left the professor.

When they broke into pairs to discuss their academic goals, she hesitated before turning to him.

"So, why Business?" he asked before she could speak.

"Practical choice. Good job prospects. I want to make sure my younger siblings have options I didn't." The words came out more honest than she'd intended. "You?"

"My father runs Choi Enterprises. I'm expected to take over eventually." he said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

The name registered immediately. Choi Enterprises was one of the largest conglomerates in South Korea. This wasn't just any rich kid; this was heir-to-an-empire rich.

"That must be a lot of pressure" she said carefully.

Seungcheol shrugged. "It's always been the plan. What about you? What's your plan after graduation?"

"Top of my class, land a job at a multinational firm, work my way up," she recited the goals she'd set for herself years ago. "Nothing too complicated."

"Ambitious" he nodded, looking impressed. "I like that."

When class ended, she gathered her things quickly, ready to head to her part-time job at the campus coffee shop.

"Hey," Seungcheol called as she stood. "A bunch of us are grabbing lunch. Want to join?"

She glanced at her watch. "Can't. I have work."

"Work? On the first day?"

"Some of us don't have the luxury of free time," she replied, immediately regretting the sharpness in her tone.

Instead of being offended, Seungcheol just nodded. "Fair enough. Maybe next time?"

She softened slightly. "Maybe."

As she walked away, she couldn't help but think that Choi Seungcheol was nothing like she'd expected a chaebol heir to be.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

First Year: November

Two months into the semester, she found herself spending more time with Seungcheol than she'd ever anticipated. They'd fallen into a rhythm of studying together at the library, his easy-going nature balancing her intensity.

"You're going to wear a hole in that paper if you keep erasing so hard" Seungcheol commented, looking up from his economics textbook.

She sighed, dropping her pencil. "This concept isn't clicking."

"Let me see." He moved his chair closer, leaning in to look at her notes. His shoulder brushed against hers, and she caught the faint scent of his cologne—something expensive, no doubt, but understated.

"Here's where you're getting stuck" he said, pointing to her formula. "You're overthinking it. Look at it this way..."

As he explained, she found herself watching his hands—strong but gentle as they moved across the page, drawing diagrams that somehow made everything clearer. When she finally understood, the smile that broke across his face was triumphant, as if her success was his own.

"See? You've got this" he said, and for a moment, she believed him.

Their study session ran late, and when they finally emerged from the library, the campus was quiet, streetlights casting long shadows across the paths.

"Let me walk you home" he offered.

"I'm fine on my own" she insisted automatically.

"I know you are. But it's late, and it's on my way."

It wasn't on his way at all—his luxury apartment was in the opposite direction from her modest housing—but she was too tired to argue.

As they walked, he asked about her family, and she found herself telling him about her parents' sacrifices, about being the first in her family to attend university, about the expectations weighing on her shoulders.

"That's a lot of responsibility" he said quietly.

"It's what has to be done" she replied, the mantra she'd repeated to herself countless times.

When they reached her building, she turned to thank him.

"Hey, there's this project for Business Strategy coming up" he said suddenly. "Want to partner up?"

She hesitated. Group projects usually meant carrying someone else's weight.

"I promise I'll pull my share" he added, reading her expression. "I'm not just some rich kid coasting through."

Against her better judgment, she agreed. "Alright. But if you slack off, I won't hesitate to tell Professor Kim."

Seungcheol grinned, unfazed by her warning. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

First Year: December

Their Business Strategy project earned them the highest grade in the class, a perfect blend of her meticulous research and his innovative thinking. They celebrated at a small café near campus, sharing a plate of pastries.

"We make a good team" Seungcheol said, pushing an extra strawberry tart toward her.

She nodded, allowing herself a moment of satisfaction. "We do."

"So, winter break plans?"

"Working extra shifts" she said, mentally calculating how much she could save in the three weeks off. "You?"

"Family trip to Switzerland. Annual tradition." He said it casually, but she saw the flash of discomfort in his eyes, as if he was suddenly aware of the gulf between their lives.

"Sounds nice" she offered, trying to smooth over the moment.

"It's mostly business for my dad. Meetings disguised as skiing trips." He paused. "You should come over for dinner before I leave, though. My place. I've been practicing this pasta recipe, and I need someone to tell me if it's actually edible."

She raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"Don't look so surprised" he laughed. "I'm full of hidden talents."

Two days later, she found herself standing outside his apartment door, clutching a bottle of moderately priced wine that had still cost more than she'd wanted to spend. When he opened the door, wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans with an apron tied around his waist, she was struck by how different he looked outside of their university setting—more relaxed, more himself.

His apartment was exactly what she'd expected: spacious, tastefully decorated, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. What she hadn't expected was the mess in the kitchen; flour dusting the countertops, a pot boiling over on the stove, and what looked like tomato sauce splattered on the wall.

"Don't say it" he warned, rushing to turn down the heat. "I know it looks like a disaster."

She bit back a smile, setting down the wine. "Need help?"

Together, they salvaged dinner. She showed him how to save the sauce from being too acidic, and he admitted that perhaps watching YouTube tutorials wasn't quite the same as actual cooking experience. By the time they sat down to eat, the pasta was slightly overcooked, and the garlic bread was a touch too brown, but it was edible.

"Not bad for a first attempt" she conceded, taking a sip of wine.

"High praise coming from you" he teased. "But thank you for saving me from complete embarrassment."

As the evening wore on, conversation flowed easily. She told him about her younger siblings, how her brother was hoping to follow in her footsteps to university, how her sister was showing talent in art that no one in the family knew how to nurture. He shared stories of growing up under the shadow of his father's success, of the weight of expectation that had been placed on his shoulders since before he could understand what it meant.

"Sometimes I wonder what I'd do if I had a choice" he admitted, his voice softening.

"And what would that be?"

"Music, maybe" he said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the living room that she hadn't noticed before. "Or psychology. Understanding how people think has always fascinated me."

"You'd be good at that" she said, and meant it. Seungcheol had a way of making people feel seen, of creating space for others to be themselves.

Later, as he walked her to the bus stop despite her protests, snow began to fall lightly around them.

"Thank you for coming tonight" he said, his breath visible in the cold air.

"Thank you for dinner" she replied. "Even if I did most of the cooking."

He laughed, the sound warm against the winter quiet. "Next time, I'll do better."

"Next time" she echoed, and realized she was looking forward to it.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: March

Spring semester brought new classes, new challenges, and a growing circle of friends that revolved around Seungcheol. She'd been gradually introduced to his other friends; twelve guys who formed a tight-knit group but welcomed her with surprising warmth.

Jeonghan, with his angelic face and devilish sense of humor, had initially been skeptical of her, watching her interactions with Seungcheol with knowing eyes. Joshua, gentle and thoughtful, had been the first to make her feel truly included, asking about her studies with genuine interest. Junhui's quiet kindness, Soonyoung's boundless energy, Wonwoo's sharp wit, Jihoon's musical genius, Seokmin's sunshine personality, Mingyu's clumsy charm, Minghao's artistic sensibility, Seungkwan's dramatic flair, Vernon's laid-back attitude, and Chan's youthful enthusiasm—each of them brought something unique to the group.

Today, they were gathered at Seungcheol's apartment, ostensibly to study but mostly to distract each other.

"I still don't understand why we can't just order food" Mingyu was saying as he chopped vegetables in the kitchen. "I always end up cooking anyway."

"Because you love it and you're good at it" Seungcheol replied, passing him salt.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to focus amid the chaos. Jihoon sat nearby, headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever composition he was working on. Wonwoo was immersed in a game, while Jeonghan and Joshua debated something in hushed tones.

"You know, you're allowed to take breaks" Seungcheol said, sitting down beside her with two mugs of tea.

"I have a midterm on Monday" she reminded him, accepting the tea nonetheless.

"So does everyone else. But they're not killing themselves over it."

She bristled slightly. "Not everyone has as much at stake."

Seungcheol opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Soonyoung launching into an animated story about his dance instructor. The moment passed, but she felt his eyes on her, concerned and thoughtful.

Later, when most of the others had drifted off to various corners of the apartment, Seungcheol nudged her gently.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

Curious despite herself, she followed him to the building's rooftop. The night air was cool, the city lights spread out before them like stars fallen to earth.

"I come here when everything gets too loud" he said, leaning against the railing. "Thought you might need it too."

She stood beside him, exhaling slowly. "It's beautiful."

"You know, you work harder than anyone I know" he said after a moment. "But sometimes I wonder if you remember to actually live while you're working so hard for your future."

"That's a luxury I can't afford" she said simply.

"It's not about luxury" he insisted. "It's about balance. Even my father, who works insane hours, makes time for the things that matter."

She didn't respond, unsure how to explain that balance was a privilege of those who had safety nets.

"My parents want to meet you, by the way" he said, changing the subject.

She turned to him, surprised. "Why?"

"Because I talk about you all the time, and they're curious about the person who keeps beating me in every class" he smiled. "Just dinner. Nothing formal."

"I don't know, Cheol..."

"Please? They're not scary, I promise."

Against her better judgment, she found herself agreeing.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: April

The Choi family home was intimidating in its understated elegance; a modern mansion in one of Seoul's most exclusive neighborhoods. She'd worn her best dress, simple and black, but still felt underdressed as a housekeeper led her through the marbled entryway.

Seungcheol was waiting for her, looking unusually formal in a button-up shirt. "You came" he said, relief evident in his voice.

"I said I would" she replied, trying to keep her nerves from showing.

Mrs. Choi appeared first, a graceful woman with kind eyes that reminded her of Seungcheol's. "So lovely to finally meet you" she said, taking her hands warmly. "Seungcheol speaks very highly of you."

Mr. Choi was more imposing; tall and distinguished, with an air of authority that commanded attention. But when he smiled, she saw where Seungcheol got his warmth. "The mysterious study partner who keeps our son on his toes" he said, shaking her hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Dinner was served in a dining room that could have comfortably seated twenty, but they kept to one end of the table, creating a sense of intimacy. She was surprised by how easily conversation flowed, how genuinely interested the Chois seemed in her studies, her background, her aspirations.

"Seungcheol tells us you're at the top of your class" Mr. Choi said, sounding impressed. "On scholarship, no less."

"I've been fortunate to have good opportunities" she said modestly.

"Opportunity means nothing without the talent and drive to seize it" Mrs. Choi countered. "Don't diminish your achievements, dear."

As the evening progressed, she found herself relaxing, even laughing at Mr. Choi's surprisingly dry sense of humor. When Seungcheol excused himself to take a phone call, Mrs. Choi leaned in slightly.

"You know, you're the first of Seungcheol's friends he's ever asked to bring home" she said thoughtfully.

"Oh, we're just classmates" she clarified quickly. "We study well together."

Mrs. Choi's smile was knowing. "Of course. Still, it says something that he values your opinion enough to want you to meet us."

Later, as Seungcheol walked her to the car his parents had insisted on sending her home in, she felt strangely conflicted.

"They like you" he said, looking pleased. "I knew they would."

"They're different from what I expected" she admitted.

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different good. They're... real people." She winced at how that sounded. "I mean—"

"No, I get it" he laughed. "They're not the cold business tycoons people assume. They work hard, but family matters to them. Values matter." He paused. "You matter to them now, too. Once you're with my parents, there's no escaping."

She didn't know why that thought made her heart beat faster.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: Summer

Summer brought an unexpected opportunity—an internship at a prestigious firm that could set her up perfectly for post-graduation employment. The only problem was the cost of living closer to the city center where the firm was located; her part-time job wouldn't cover the higher rent for those three months.

When she mentioned the dilemma while studying with Seungcheol, he immediately offered a solution.

"Stay at my place" he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I'm leaving for Jeju to help with my father's new resort development, so the apartment will be empty anyway."

"I can't just take your apartment, Cheol."

"Why not? It's sitting there unused, with a perfectly convenient commute to your internship. It makes logical sense."

She hesitated, pride warring with practicality. "I'd pay rent."

"You absolutely will not" he said firmly. "Consider it an investment in your future success, which will make me look good by association."

"Seungcheol—"

"Please? It would actually help me out. Someone should be there to water my plants and make sure the place doesn't get robbed."

In the end, logic won out, though she insisted on at least covering utilities. When Seungcheol gave her the keys before leaving for Jeju, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing" he said, closing her fingers around the keys. "Just take care of yourself, not just my plants."

Living in Seungcheol's apartment was a strange experience. Everything was comfortable, convenient, designed for ease. She found herself working later at the internship than required, partly out of dedication and partly to avoid becoming too accustomed to the luxury that wasn't hers.

Mingyu and Wonwoo checked in on her occasionally, bringing food and company. Junhui brought books he thought she'd enjoy. Jihoon, surprisingly, became a regular visitor, often working on his music while she prepared reports for her internship, the silence between them comfortable.

One night, as they shared takeout after both working late, Jihoon looked up from his noodles. "You know he's in love with you, right?"

She nearly choked. "Who?"

Jihoon gave her a flat look. "Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you."

"Seungcheol and I are friends" she said firmly. "Good friends."

"Sure" Jihoon shrugged, returning to his food. "But just so you know, he doesn't lend this place to just anyone. I've known him since high school, and you're the first person he's ever given keys to."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she changed the subject. But later, alone in Seungcheol's guest room, she found herself staring at the ceiling, thinking about his easy smile, his unwavering support, the way he seemed to see her—really see her—in a way no one else did.

It was a dangerous line of thought, one she couldn't afford to entertain.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Third Year: November

The third year brought mounting pressure; harder classes, preparation for thesis proposals, the looming reality of job hunting. She and Seungcheol remained close, though their different schedules meant they saw each other less frequently. When they did, it was usually in group settings with the others or during late-night study sessions in the library.

Tonight was rare; just the two of them, working on separate thesis outlines in his apartment. Rain lashed against the windows, creating a cozy atmosphere despite the stress of their work.

Jihoon, Mingyu, and Jeonghan had been there earlier, working on their own projects, but had left hours ago, leaving them alone with their thoughts and the sound of keyboards clicking.

"I think my brain is officially fried" Seungcheol announced, pushing back from his laptop. "Want some ramyeon?"

She glanced up, blinking as her eyes adjusted to looking at something other than her screen. "Sure."

In the kitchen, she watched as he moved efficiently, preparing their late-night snack. There was a comfortable domesticity to it, one that made her chest tighten with a feeling she refused to name.

"My father asked about you yesterday" he said casually as he waited for the water to boil.

"Oh?"

"He's impressed with your internship performance. Apparently, his friend at the firm couldn't stop singing your praises."

She felt a flush of pride. "I didn't realize they knew each other."

"Seoul's business world is smaller than you think" Seungcheol said, pouring the hot water into their bowls. "Actually, he mentioned they might have a position opening up after graduation. Said you'd be a perfect fit."

She froze, ramyeon halfway to her mouth. "What?"

"It's just an option" he said quickly. "No pressure. But it's a good company, great benefits, room for advancement—"

"Did you ask him to do this?" Her voice was suddenly cold.

Seungcheol looked genuinely surprised. "What? No. He brought it up on his own."

"Really? Your father just happened to mention a job opportunity at his friend's company, for me specifically?"

"Yes" he frowned. "What's the problem?"

She set down her chopsticks. "The problem is I don't need your family pulling strings for me. I can get a job on my own merits."

"No one's saying you can't" he countered. "It's just networking. Everyone does it."

"Everyone who has connections" she shot back. "Some of us have to work for everything we get."

Seungcheol's expression hardened. "And you think I don't work? That everything just falls into my lap because of my last name?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"It's exactly what you meant" he said, voice rising slightly. "You've always thought that, haven't you? Poor Seungcheol, born with a silver spoon, never had to struggle a day in his life."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it? You've built this whole identity around being the scholarship kid who does everything herself. You're so afraid of accepting help that you don't even see when people are just trying to care about you."

The words hit too close to home, igniting a defensive anger. "I don't need anyone to care about me. I'm doing fine on my own."

"Are you?" he challenged. "Because from where I'm standing, you're working yourself to exhaustion, pushing away anyone who tries to get close, all because you're terrified of admitting you might actually need someone."

"What I need" she said, standing abruptly, "is to not be your charity case. I'm not some project for you to fix, Seungcheol. I'm not here to make you feel good about yourself for helping the poor scholarship student."

His face went pale, then flushed with anger. "Is that really what you think of me? After three years?"

The hurt in his eyes made her want to take back her words, but pride kept her silent.

"I have never," he said, voice low and controlled, "seen you as a charity case. I thought we were friends. I thought—" he stopped, running a hand through his hair. "Forget it. If that's what you think of me, maybe we don't know each other at all."

She gathered her things in tense silence, shoving papers into her bag without caring if they crumpled. When she reached the door, she paused, knowing she should apologize but not knowing how.

"Let me call you a car at least" he said stiffly. "It's pouring out there."

"I'll take the bus" she replied, and left before he could argue.

The rain soaked her within seconds, but she barely noticed, her mind replaying their argument on loop. By the time she reached her apartment, she was drenched and shivering, but the cold emptiness inside her had nothing to do with the weather.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Third Year: December

Three weeks passed without a word between them—the longest they'd gone without speaking since they met. She threw herself into her thesis preparation, taking extra shifts at work to avoid her thoughts. Her phone remained silent; even the group chat with the others had gone quiet for her.

One evening, as she was closing up the coffee shop, she looked up to find Jeonghan waiting at the counter.

"We need to talk" he said simply.

They sat at a corner table, her still in her apron, him elegant as always in a camel coat.

"He's miserable" Jeonghan said without preamble. "And from the looks of it, so are you."

She stared at her hands. "It's complicated."

"It's really not" Jeonghan countered. "You both said things you didn't mean, and you're both too stubborn to apologize first."

"He told you what happened?"

"He didn't have to. We've all been watching this dance for three years now." Jeonghan's expression softened. "Look, I get it. Pride is a hard thing to swallow. But is it worth losing him over?"

"I don't want to lose him" she admitted quietly.

"Then do something about it" Jeonghan said, standing. "And for what it's worth, none of us, especially not Seungcheol, have ever seen you as anything less than what you are: brilliant, determined, and incredibly frustrating."

After Jeonghan left, she sat alone in the darkened coffee shop, thinking about Seungcheol. How he'd never once made her feel less than, how he'd always believed in her abilities, how he'd created space for her in his life without question.

The next morning, she found herself standing outside his apartment, heart pounding. When he opened the door, he looked as bad as she felt; dark circles under his eyes, hair uncombed, wearing a hoodie she recognized as one of his comfort clothes.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly.

He stepped aside wordlessly.

Inside, they stood awkwardly in his living room, the silence heavy between them.

"I'm sorry" she finally said. "What I said was unfair and untrue. You've never made me feel like a charity case. That was my own insecurity talking."

Seungcheol's shoulders relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pushed about the job thing. I know how important your independence is to you."

"It's not just about independence" she tried to explain. "It's about feeling like I've earned my place. Like I belong in those rooms on my own merit."

"You do belong" he said firmly. "More than most people I know. But accepting help doesn't diminish that." He paused. "I'm not trying to make your path easier because I think you can't handle it. I offer because I care about you, and that's what people do when they care. They try to make each other's lives better."

The simple honesty of his words broke something open inside her. "I'm not very good at letting people care about me" she admitted.

"I've noticed" he said, a ghost of his usual smile appearing. "But I'm pretty persistent."

"That you are" she agreed, feeling the tension between them begin to dissolve.

"So, friends again?" he asked, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made her heart ache.

"Friends" she confirmed, trying to ignore the voice inside her that whispered it wasn't enough.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Fourth Year: February

Senior year was flying by too quickly, the future looming large on the horizon. She and Seungcheol had settled back into their friendship, though something had shifted subtly between them; a new awareness, moments of silence that stretched a beat too long, touches that lingered.

Tonight, they were on the rooftop of his building again, bundled against the winter cold, celebrating the completion of their thesis drafts with a bottle of wine.

"To never having to look at my thesis again," Seungcheol toasted, clinking his glass against hers.

"Until next week when we get feedback and have to revise everything" she reminded him, but she was smiling.

"Always the optimist" he teased.

They fell into companionable silence, watching the city lights below them.

"Have you heard back from any of the places you applied?" he asked after a while.

"Not yet" she said, trying to keep the worry from her voice. "You?"

"I start at the company in July" he said. "After graduation and a brief vacation.” 

"That's great, Cheol," she said, genuinely happy for him despite the twist of anxiety in her own stomach about her uncertain future.

"It is" he agreed, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "It's what I've been working toward."

"But?"

He shrugged. "No 'but.' It's the right move. The responsible choice."

She studied his profile, illuminated by the distant city lights. "Does it make you happy?"

"Happiness isn't always the point" he said quietly. "Sometimes it's about doing what needs to be done."

Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like a platitude. Coming from Seungcheol, who carried the weight of his family name with such grace, it was a confession.

"I think" she said carefully, "that you'll find a way to make it your own. You always do."

He turned to look at her then, his eyes searching hers for something she wasn't sure she was ready to give. "What about you? What makes you happy?"

The question caught her off guard. She'd spent so long focusing on survival, on achievement, on making something of herself, that happiness had always seemed like a distant luxury.

"I don't know" she answered honestly. "I haven't thought about it much."

"Think about it now" he urged gently.

She closed her eyes, letting herself imagine for once. "Stability," she said finally. "Knowing my family is taken care of. Work that matters. People who understand me." She opened her eyes to find him still watching her. "Freedom to choose my own path."

"That sounds like a good life," he said softly.

"It does," she agreed. "What about you? If you could choose anything?"

"This," he said simply. "Moments like this. Being with people who see me as me, not as the Choi heir. Making my own decisions. Music, maybe. A life that feels authentic."

His honesty made her brave. "And us? Where do we fit in those futures?"

The question hung between them, loaded with unspoken feelings. Seungcheol reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch feather-light.

"I don't know" he admitted. "But I know I want you in mine. However that looks."

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. Reluctantly, she checked it—an email notification that made her heart stop.

"What is it?" Seungcheol asked, noticing her expression.

"A job offer" she whispered, hardly daring to believe it. "In New York. The international firm I applied to, they want me."

Seungcheol's face went through a rapid series of emotions before settling on a proud smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's amazing. When would you start?"

"August" she said, still processing. "They want an answer within the week."

"You're going to take it, right?" he asked, voice carefully neutral. "It's what you've been working for."

It was everything she'd dreamed of—a prestigious firm, international experience, a salary that would let her help her family. But suddenly, the thought of leaving Seoul—leaving Seungcheol—made the victory taste bittersweet.

"I need to think about it" she said, and they both knew it was a lie. There was no decision to make. This was her path, the one she'd sacrificed for, the one that would validate all her hard work.

"Of course" Seungcheol said, raising his glass again. "To new beginnings."

She echoed the toast, but as they drank in silence, the space between them seemed to grow, filled with things they weren't ready to say.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Fourth Year: May

Graduation day dawned bright and clear, the campus transformed by decorations and proud families. She stood among her classmates in her cap and gown, scanning the crowd for her parents and siblings, who had saved for months to make the trip.

She spotted Seungcheol with his parents near the front, looking handsome and official in his regalia. They hadn't spoken much in the weeks since she accepted the New York position, both busy with final exams and preparations for the future. But they'd maintained their friendship, carefully avoiding any mention of her imminent departure.

When her name was called, she walked across the stage with her head held high, accepting her diploma with the knowledge that she had earned every bit of this moment. As she shook the dean's hand, she heard cheers from the audience; her family, but also a distinct group that could only be Seungcheol and the others, who had become her second family over these four years.

As she moved the tassel on her cap, she caught Seungcheol's eye in the crowd. He smiled at her, proud and pained all at once, and something inside her chest constricted. This was what she had worked for; her ticket to a better life, a chance to make her mark on the world. Why, then, did victory feel so hollow?

After the ceremony, amid the chaos of families taking photos and classmates saying tearful goodbyes, she found herself pulled into an embrace by Mrs. Choi.

"We are so proud of you" the elegant woman said, holding her at arm's length. "Such an accomplishment."

Mr. Choi nodded in agreement, his usually stern face softened with genuine warmth. "Seungcheol tells us you're headed to New York. An excellent opportunity."

"Yes" she confirmed, "I start in August."

"Seoul's loss is New York’s gain," Mrs. Choi said with a meaningful glance toward her son, who was talking with her parents a few feet away. "But I suspect you'll do remarkable things wherever you go."

Before she could respond, Seungcheol approached, bringing her family with him. There were introductions, handshakes, her mother looking slightly overwhelmed but pleased as she chatted with Mrs. Choi. Her younger siblings stared in awe at Seungcheol, who treated them with the same easy respect he showed everyone.

"We're having a small celebration at our home this evening" Mr. Choi announced. "For Seungcheol and his friends. You and your family are welcome to join us."

Her mother started to decline, she knew they had planned to take the evening train back home to save on hotel costs, but Seungcheol interrupted gently.

"Please" he said, addressing her parents directly. "It would mean a lot to me. To all of us. We've made arrangements for your accommodations, and transportation back tomorrow."

She opened her mouth to object, pride rising automatically, but caught herself. This wasn't charity; this was friendship. After four years, she was finally learning the difference.

"We'd be honored" her father said, and the matter was settled.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The Choi residence was transformed for the evening, the formal spaces made warm and inviting with soft lighting and flowers. The celebration was more intimate than she had expected—just the fourteen of them, their families, and a few close friends of the Chois.

She watched as Seungcheol moved through the room, the perfect host, making sure everyone was comfortable. He had a gift for making people feel at ease, regardless of background or status. Her father, initially stiff and uncomfortable in the opulent surroundings, was now laughing at something Joshua's dad had said. Her mother was deep in conversation with Jihoon's parents about music education, while her siblings had been thoroughly adopted by Seokmin and Soonyoung, who were teaching them some ridiculous dance moves in the corner.

"He gets it from his mother" a voice said beside her, and she turned to find Mr. Choi offering her a glass of champagne.

"Sorry?"

"Seungcheol. The way he brings people together" Mr. Choi clarified, nodding toward his son. "His mother has always had that gift. I'm more like you—focused on goals, sometimes at the expense of connections."

She accepted the champagne, surprised by his candor. "I wouldn't have guessed that about you."

Mr. Choi smiled slightly. "I've learned over the years. Thanks in large part to her." He glanced fondly at his wife across the room. "The right people in our lives have a way of making us better versions of ourselves."

Before she could respond to this unexpectedly personal insight, Mingyu appeared, dragging her away to settle a debate with Wonwoo about the best street food in Seoul. The evening continued, warm and joyful, a perfect culmination of their university years.

Later, as the party began to wind down, she found herself on the terrace, taking a moment of quiet amid the celebrations. The night air was cool but pleasant, the garden below illuminated softly by strategically placed lights.

"Hiding?" Seungcheol's voice came from behind her.

"Just catching my breath," she replied as he joined her at the railing. "It's been quite a day."

"One for the books" he agreed, loosening his tie slightly. "Your family seems to be enjoying themselves."

"They are. Thank you for including them."

"They're important to you" he said simply, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.

They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the party muted behind them, the city spread out before them like a constellation of earthbound stars.

"New York" he said finally, the word heavy with everything they hadn't been saying. "When do you leave?"

"Three weeks" she answered, her voice smaller than she intended. "I need to find an apartment, get settled before orientation."

Seungcheol nodded, his profile stoic in the dim light. "You're going to be amazing there. They're lucky to have you."

"What about you?" she asked, needing to change the subject. "Ready to be the new face of Choi Enterprises?"

A smile flickered across his face. "Not exactly the new face. More like the behind-the-scenes guy implementing changes while my father continues to be the public figure."

"Changes?"

"I've been thinking about what you said months ago, about making it my own." His eyes met hers, serious and determined. "I want to shift some of our priorities. Focus more on sustainable practices, ethical sourcing. Maybe expand our scholarship program."

Pride bloomed in her chest. "That sounds like something you would do."

"It's something you inspired" he corrected gently. "You've always pushed me to be more than just my father's son."

The sincerity in his voice made her throat tighten. Four years of friendship, of challenges and growth, of becoming adults together—it all seemed to crystallize in this moment.

"I'm going to miss you" she admitted, the words barely audible.

Seungcheol turned to her fully then, his eyes searching hers. "I've been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks" he began, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his gaze. "Actually, years, if I'm honest."

Her heart stuttered in her chest, knowing what was coming and terrified of it.

"I'm in love with you" he said simply. "I have been since that first study session when you corrected my accounting formula and told me I needed to pay more attention to details."

A small laugh escaped her, half-surprised, half-pained. "That was four years ago."

"I know" he smiled ruefully. "I'm not telling you this to complicate things or make you feel guilty about New York. I just couldn't let you leave without being honest. I respect your choices, your independence. I always have."

"Cheol—" she started, but he shook his head.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that someone sees you—all of you, the strength and the vulnerability, the ambition and the fear. And loves you for it."

The words she'd been holding back for so long rose to her lips, but before she could speak, the glass door to the terrace slid open, and Seungkwan appeared.

"There you are! We're about to do toasts, and Jeonghan says we can't start without you two."

The moment shattered, Seungcheol stepped back, the confession hanging unresolved between them. They rejoined the party, where champagne flowed and emotional speeches were made. Through it all, his words echoed in her mind, both a gift and a complication.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Three Months Later: August

New York was everything and nothing like she had imagined. The city's energy matched her own drive, the constant movement and ambition a perfect reflection of her internal landscape. Her apartment was small but functional, her job challenging and rewarding. On paper, everything was exactly as she had planned.

But in the quiet moments—late at night when the city's pulse slowed, or early mornings when the light slanted just so through her window—she found herself thinking of Seoul, of thirteen boys who had become family, of one in particular whose confession she had never properly answered.

They kept in touch, sort of. Group texts with the others, occasional video calls where they carefully maintained the friendship they'd always had, neither mentioning the words spoken on the terrace. She saw snippets of his life through social media—Seungcheol at business functions, Seungcheol implementing new company initiatives, Seungcheol with the others on weekend trips. He looked good, successful, exactly where he was meant to be.

Tonight, she found herself on her tiny balcony, staring up at the narrow strip of sky visible between buildings. The moon was bright, a perfect silver disc that seemed to follow her across oceans and continents.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Jihoon, a rare direct message from the most reserved of the group.

*You're both idiots, you know that?*

She blinked at the bluntness of it.

*Hello to you too, Jihoon.*

*He's miserable. You're probably miserable too, knowing you.*

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. *We're both where we need to be.*

*Need and want are different things. Figure it out.*

The conversation ended there, typical Jihoon—direct, uncompromising, and unfortunately insightful.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. The truth was, she was doing well professionally but personally... personally, she felt adrift. She'd achieved her goal, proved herself capable and worthy, secured her family's future. But something was missing, and she was finally honest enough with herself to name it.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. A follow-up from her boss about a project she was leading—an expansion into the Asian market, specifically South Korea. They needed someone with local knowledge, language skills, and connections. Someone exactly like her.

She stared at the screen, heart racing with sudden possibility. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was a door opening where before there had been only walls.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Six Months Later: February

Seoul in winter was exactly as she remembered it; crisp, vibrant, familiar in a way that settled something inside her. She pulled her coat tighter as she walked through the business district, the cashmere scarf, his gift from years ago, wound around her neck.

The Choi Enterprises building loomed ahead, modern and imposing against the skyline. She had informed her team she would handle this meeting personally, citing her familiarity with Korean business culture. She hadn't mentioned her familiarity with the company's leadership.

At reception, she stated her name and appointment, the Korean flowing easily from her lips after months of practice to maintain her fluency. The receptionist directed her to the elevators, instructing her to go to the 42nd floor, executive offices.

Her heart pounded as the elevator ascended. She hadn't told him she was coming. Hadn't told any of them, afraid she might lose her nerve if she did. The doors opened to a sleek reception area where another assistant greeted her.

"He's expecting you" the woman said with a smile, leading her down a hallway to double doors at the end.

She took a deep breath as the assistant knocked once, then opened the door.

"Your 10 o'clock is here, Mr. Choi."

She stepped into the office; spacious and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city. Seungcheol stood behind his desk, reviewing documents, his back to the door.

"Thank you, I—" he began as he turned, the words dying on his lips when he saw her.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, taking in the changes six months had wrought. He looked different; more mature, his hair styled differently, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that made him look every inch the business leader he had become. But his eyes, his eyes were the same, warm and deep and suddenly wide with shock.

"Hi" she said softly, when she could find her voice.

"What are you—" he stopped, glancing at his assistant who was watching with undisguised curiosity. "Thank you, Min-ah. That will be all for now."

When the door closed behind her, silence descended, heavy with unasked questions.

"I'm here on business," she explained, stepping further into the room. "My company is looking to expand into the Korean market. I'm leading the project."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "You're representing them."

She nodded. "They thought my connections might be helpful."

"Your connections" he repeated, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "And you chose Choi Enterprises as your first meeting."

"It seemed logical" she said, maintaining the professional facade, though her racing heart betrayed her. "Your company has a strong digital presence, innovative ideas. We're looking for a partner with vision."

Seungcheol moved around his desk, closing some of the distance between them. "Very logical. How long are you in Seoul?"

"Two weeks, to start. Longer if the partnerships develop well."

"And after that?" he asked, the question loaded with meaning.

She took a deep breath. "That depends on what we find here."

Their eyes held, the pretense of a purely business conversation slipping away.

"I never answered you" she said quietly. "That night on the terrace."

"You didn't need to" he replied. "Your path was clear."

"My path has led me back here" she countered, taking a step toward him. "Maybe that means something."

Seungcheol's expression softened, hope cautiously emerging. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I've accomplished what I set out to do. I've proven myself, secured my future, helped my family. I'm saying that I'm proud of who I've become, and that includes being someone who can finally admit what she wants." She took another step closer. "I'm saying that I love you too. I have for a long time."

The distance between them vanished as Seungcheol closed the gap, one hand coming up to cup her face with a tenderness that made her breath catch.

"You're sure?" he asked, his voice low. "Because I don't want you to ever feel like you've compromised your independence for me."

"Loving you isn't a compromise" she said firmly. "It took me a while to understand that accepting love isn't the same as accepting charity. You were right—it's what people do when they care."

The smile that broke across his face was like sunrise, bright and full of promise. "I've missed you" he whispered, forehead touching hers. "Every day."

"I've missed you too," she admitted, her hands coming to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her palm. "More than I allowed myself to acknowledge."

When he kissed her, it felt like coming home.

It’s like finding something she hadn't known she was missing until this moment. It was gentle at first, a question and an answer all at once, then deepening with the weight of feelings long held back.

A knock at the door forced them apart, and Seungcheol cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," his assistant called through the door, "but your father is asking if you'd like to join him for lunch with your visitor to discuss the potential partnership."

Seungcheol looked at her, eyebrows raised in question. She nodded, a smile playing at her lips.

"Tell him we'll be there" he called back, and then more quietly to her, "My parents are going to be insufferable when they see you. My mother has been asking about you for months."

"They knew how you felt?"

"Everyone knew" he laughed. "Apparently, I wasn't subtle."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket—a message from the group chat she shared with all thirteen of them. She pulled it out to find a text from Jeonghan:

Tell him we expect both of you at dinner tonight. No excuses.

She looked up at Seungcheol, confused. "Did you tell them I was here?"

He leaned over to see the message and laughed. "No, but Jeonghan has an uncanny sixth sense. And possibly spies in my building."

Another text came through, this one from Jihoon: Told you so.

"What does that mean?" Seungcheol asked.

She smiled, putting her phone away. "It means he was right. We were both idiots."

Seungcheol took her hand, interlacing their fingers as if they'd been doing it for years. "Not anymore" he said softly. "Now we're just two people who took the long way home."

As they walked out of his office together, she thought about the journey that had brought her here; the scholarship girl determined to make it on her own, the walls she'd built around her heart, the gradual realization that true strength wasn't about standing alone but about choosing who to stand with.

Outside, the winter sun broke through the clouds, casting long shadows across the snow-covered city. In the distance, the Han River flowed steadily, unchanging and ever-changing all at once. Like the moon that had watched over both of them from different corners of the world, bearing silent witness to their separate paths that had, against all odds, converged once more.

She squeezed Seungcheol's hand, feeling him squeeze back without hesitation, and knew with certainty that this—this was what coming home felt like.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Just like the moon, I'll pull you back again

I'm always going to be who I've been  

But I'm not afraid to admit I'm wrong

When I know I'm right where I belong

- moon song, phoebe bridgers

[joyswonderland1108]

“How on earth is JK hanging up on Tae somehow Jimin's fault?”

JK hangs up on Tae → Tae looks mildly annoyed → Jimin breathes in the same time zone → suddenly it's his masterplan all along 😭 “He manipulated Jungkook with his smirk” girl be serious.

I— You know what? Nevermind. Never. Mind. I've seen the circus and I don’t need front row seats today. These people will see Jungkook unplug the sun and blame the lack of sunlight on Jimin’s aura or something. “He’s too radiant and Jungkook couldn’t take it 🥺” — girl what.

BUT ANYWAY. How are we doing today, fam? How are we feeling? Because Echo just dropped.

And if you’re not listening to it like your life depends on it… what are you doing??? Rent is due, and so is your streaming effort.

Here are two playlists I’m using to stream — because we support our kings with views AND taste. Hopefully they help you too.

Now let’s talk about Jin’s live. Or as I like to call it: The Groupchat Leak None of Us Knew We Needed. Because excuse me, what was THAT? 193 comments from the members???

I swear they either:

Accidentally dropped the groupchat into the public zone,

Are now testing a new social experiment called “Parasocial Group Messaging,”

Or they simply forgot we weren’t supposed to be there.

Honestly? Not complaining. Inject every chaotic interaction directly into my bloodstream. Jin saying “get out of my comments” while simultaneously being soft with them?? Peak hyung behavior. I just know he texted the actual groupchat later like, “Next time use KakaoTalk LIKE NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS.”

Now onto the part of the regularly scheduled program where we collectively slap some sense into the jobless haters: "Jikook are never together" “Where is the proof?” “Are you delusional?”

OH I DON’T KNOW. Maybe they listened to a whole song together? Not just any song. "Don't Say You Love Me". Like… really think about the emotional damage in that title and then imagine Jikook choosing that as their bonding soundtrack. I’m not okay, thanks for asking (I'm being delulu leave me alone!!)

And what’s Jungkook doing? Oh just… talking on the phone. And laughing. Right next to Jimin. As if they share one braincell and can’t operate it when they’re apart. So sorry for having eyes and ears and a functioning memory.

Let’s talk about the inside jokes. The bane of every Jikooker's existence. “It looks good on you.” “No, no, it looks good on you.”

✨STAAAAHP✨ I’m tired of being left out like a side character in a K-drama who gets five lines and a heartbreak arc. WHAT LOOKS GOOD ON WHO? IS THIS ABOUT CLOTHES OR SOMETHING ELSE? Give us the context, I’m begging. These two act like we were THERE for the original joke. Like we weren’t just trying to eat our snacks and mind our business before they decided to gaslight us with cryptic matching dialogue.

And THEN. Jungkook just decides that Hopeminkook can carry on the convo post-live like this was a planned coffee chat. Bro straight up ghosted but gave them permission to “go on.” 😂

Meanwhile, I can feel Jin’s soul leaving his body. You just know he hit the groupchat with: “Get. Out. Of. My. Comments.” And Hobi responded with 10 emojis and Jimin sent a picture of his elbow or something equally cursed.

But now, for the highlight of today’s unhinged lesson in Jikookology: DULPO and NETPO.

For the confused among us (it’s okay, you’re loved), let me educate you real quick:

In Korean, numbers go like this:

1 = 하나 (hana)

2 = 둘 (dul)

3 = 셋 (set)

4 = 넷 (net)

Let me explain based on what i know and what i understood :

In the South Korean military artillery units, soldiers are divided into tank/artillery crews, each given a number. And because Korean is a language of poetic chaos and nicknames, this turns into:

Jungkook, an artilleryman (포수 / posu), was assigned to tank crew number 2 → hence the name DULPO (둘포): "둘 (dul)" = two + "포 (po)" = artillery/gunner

Jimin? He was assigned to tank crew number 4, and naturally, his squad is NETPO (넷포): "넷 (net)" = four + "포 (po)" = artillery/gunner

Not just that — Jimin casually decided to let us know that He is the "ACE" of Netpo, and I’m sorry but ??? We now have ranks within nicknames?? You’re telling me this man is out there acing the military?? Can you imagine Jimin just glowing under camouflage paint and being the top gunner in his squad like it's the finale of a K-drama?

Now..

🕵️‍♂️ BTS Mafia Game Chaos (aka Jikook & Hobi being extra on the timeline)

It all starts with Jimin, just casually asking:

지민: 마피아 하실? “Are you going to play the mafia game?”

Enter Jungkook, 1 minute later, saying:

JK: 눈치게임 1 “Timing game 1”

(He’s referring to a Korean timing game called 눈치게임 (Noonchi Game) where everyone tries to say a number in sequence without overlapping someone else's number — like 1, 2, 3, etc. — but if two people say the same number, they lose.)

Then Hobi shows up and drops:

hobi: 즈2 = "2" in a playful/slangy way

Then Jimin says:

지민: 이 = "2" (again)

And finally Jungkook, being over it already, says:

JK: 아 중복 너무 많다 “Ah, there are too many overlaps” 😩

So basically, this was:

Jimin starting chaos with a mafia game suggestion

Jungkook turning it into a Noonchi Game

Everyone yelling "2" like chaotic toddlers

Jungkook realizing they’ve all failed the game instantly because of too many overlaps

TL;DR:

JK hangs up on Tae and that’s somehow Jimin’s fault (???)

Jin’s live was a groupchat simulation gone rogue

Jikook listened to an emotionally devastating song together and smiled through it like psychopaths

We got soft bickering, synchronized laughter, mysterious inside jokes, and now apparently, gaming lore to study

Jimin = Netpo ACE. JK = Dulpo Support Main (probably)

I need a nap

Anyway, stream Echo!!! And don't forget our boys only have about 3 weeks and 4 days left to be with us again!!!

[honeydippedfiction]

Hi Cici! Can I request angst/fluff Joe x reader from the pre-relationship prompt no 10. They’ve broken up but they still love each other. Reader’s mom invites Joe to dinner and they reunite after 2 months. Can you make it a happy ending pls?

"Hey, my mom wants to know if you're coming to family dinner tonight?" "Isn't it weird for me to come? We broke up two months ago, baby." "Okay, I'm not going to lie, you're giving me mixed signals. I'm telling her you're coming.”

Ayyye it’s a bad bitch birthday y’all, BIG 24🤪🤪 sorry for not posting yesterday, things got a little crazy. But here’s some Joey to make up for it, love yaaa😚💋

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#10. "Hey, my mom wants to know if you're coming to family dinner tonight?" "Isn't it weird for me to come? We broke up two months ago, baby." "Okay, I'm not going to lie, you're giving me mixed signals. I'm telling her you're coming.”

Joe Burrow x black!femreader

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

They didn’t fall apart all at once.

No one slammed a door. No one shouted across the kitchen table. There were no ultimatums thrown like grenades, no harsh words hurled in the heat of anger. Instead, it was quiet—the kind of quiet that creeps in like cold air through an open window. The kind you don’t notice at first, until one day you realize you’re shivering.

That was how it ended.

Joe was deep into the off-season grind—film study, conditioning, meetings with coaches, and early press obligations. He kept saying he was fine. That he was just busy. That he was trying to be better.

And Y/N—she was trying too. Trying to be patient, trying not to count how many texts went unanswered. Trying not to take it personally when he forgot the dinner reservation she'd made for their anniversary. Trying to convince herself that love was supposed to bend under pressure. That he’d come back to her when the weight lifted.

But weeks passed. Then more. And with every day, she felt herself slipping from his periphery—like background noise to a life she used to be centered in.

They had their final fight on a Wednesday night.

She had waited for him to come home after practice, her dinner long cold on the stove. She’d spent hours rehearsing how to talk to him gently, how to ask for more without sounding like she was demanding it. But the second he walked through the door, eyes heavy and voice detached, the words scattered.

“You don’t see me anymore,” she’d said quietly, arms folded across her chest.

Joe had stopped mid-step, the key still in his hand.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re here,” she said. “But you’re not with me.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Y/N, I can’t give you all of me right now. You know what’s on the line this season.”

“And what about what’s on the line with us?” she asked, voice cracking under the weight of her restraint. “I’m not asking for your whole career. I’m asking for a place in your life that doesn’t feel optional.”

That hit something tender. He flinched. But then the wall came up. That impenetrable, practiced calm he wore in press conferences and on fourth downs.

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“No, Joe,” she said, tears burning at the edges of her vision, “you’re doing the best you can for you. And I’m just collateral damage.”

The silence after that was louder than any shouting match could’ve been. He didn’t chase her when she walked out. She didn’t call when she packed her overnight bag. Neither of them said goodbye, but they both knew what it meant when days passed and no one reached out.

It was the kind of breakup that didn’t feel like a clean cut. It was a tear—uneven, ragged. The kind you keep running your fingers over, hoping the skin will knit itself back together.

But it didn’t.

Not for a while.

✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧

Two months later, and she could still hear the last thing he said as she closed the door behind her:

“I don’t know how to love you right now.”

And she, broken in ways she didn’t have the words for, had only whispered back:

“Then you don’t get to love me at all.”

✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧

The late summer heat in Cincinnati was starting to soften into something more bearable—less suffocating, more nostalgic. The kind of weather that whispered of changing seasons, even if the days still clung to a sticky kind of warmth. The breeze carried the faintest hint of something crisp, something about to end or maybe about to begin.

Y/N stood barefoot on the concrete balcony of her apartment, her toes curled against the cool surface. The skyline stretched hazy in the distance, the sun dipping behind buildings like it didn’t want to be seen anymore. She cradled her phone loosely in one hand, thumb tracing the edge of the screen, debating—for the fifth time in the last half hour—whether to call him.

Inside, her living room was quiet except for the distant hum of the ceiling fan. Her dinner sat untouched on the coffee table, congealed now, the takeout box slightly ajar. The text from her mother still glowed at the top of her screen like a dare:

“Tell Joseph to come to dinner tonight. I’m making gumbo and peach cobbler.”

No context. No awareness—or maybe just willful ignorance—of the two-month silence between them. As if she hadn’t sobbed into her mother’s arms the night after the breakup. As if Joe Burrow was still part of the family like he’d always been.

She hadn’t answered right away. She’d stared at the message, then scrolled back through old texts she’d never deleted, some of them still marked unread even though she could recite them by heart.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. That was the problem—she did. Too much. Still.

The phone felt heavier than usual in her hand. Her finger hovered over his name in her contacts—Joey 🏈💬. Stupid nickname. Stupid emoji. She hadn’t changed it.

Then, finally, she sighed and hit Call.

It rang twice.

“Hey,” his voice came through, low and quiet. Familiar, even with the rougher edge that hadn’t been there before.

“Hey,” she echoed, her voice tighter than she meant it to be. She bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly conscious of the stretch of silence folding around them.

There was faint movement on his end—something shifting, a soft thud, maybe the creak of his old leather couch. Then, the sound of him exhaling.

“My mom wanted me to ask if you’re coming to family dinner tonight,” she said at last, her eyes fixed on the pink glow of the skyline. “She’s making gumbo. Peach cobbler too.”

Another pause. Longer. Deeper. She imagined him in that familiar kitchen of his, leaning on the counter, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he didn’t know what to say.

“Isn’t it weird for me to come?” he said, eventually. His voice dipped lower. “We broke up two months ago, baby.”

That word—baby—landed like a pebble tossed into still water. It rippled through her, sudden and unwanted, stirring up everything she had tried to settle.

Y/N blinked hard, gripping the balcony railing.

“Okay, I’m not gonna lie, you’re giving me mixed signals.” Her tone was brisk, a shade too light. “I’m telling her you’re coming.”

She expected him to push back. Say don’t. Say I can’t. But he didn’t. He was quiet for a second, then—

“I’ve missed her cooking,” he said, soft. Almost too soft to hear. “And... I’ve missed you.”

Her breath caught. Her fingers curled tighter around the railing.

“You don’t get to say that, Joe,” she said quietly. “Not unless you mean it.”

There was a rustle on the line. She could almost see him now—jaw clenched, brow furrowed, eyes somewhere on the floor.

“I do mean it.” His voice cracked. Just a little. “I think I always meant it. I just didn’t know what to do with it.”

That stopped her. Her chest ached. She closed her eyes, the breeze brushing loose strands of hair against her cheek.

“You don’t get to act like you’re the only one who didn’t know what to do,” she murmured. “We were both lost, Joe.”

He was silent.

Then: “Can I come early?”

The question hung in the air between them.

She opened her eyes. The sky had shifted to deeper gold. The city looked softer, like it had been smudged at the edges.

“You want to come early?” she repeated.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just us. For a bit. If that’s okay.”

Y/N swallowed. Her pulse thudded in her throat.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

The line went dead.

She stared at the screen, the call log glowing like it knew something she didn’t. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered the phone. Inside, her untouched dinner looked sad and irrelevant now.

Y/N walked back in, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. She caught her reflection in the mirror above the couch and paused, brushing her hair back, eyes searching her own face as if trying to remember what he used to see there.

Maybe it was still there.

She changed out of her oversized T-shirt into something more neutral—simple. Familiar. A soft tank and jeans. Nothing that screamed I want you back, but not indifferent either.

Then she waited.

And twenty-three minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧

The Burrow name didn’t exactly go unnoticed in the city, and yet somehow, It was nearly dusk when Joe turned onto the quiet street, unnoticed, where Y/N’s childhood home stood. The tires of his SUV crunched against the curb as he parked across from the house, letting the engine idle for a few seconds longer than necessary.

The porch light glowed faintly against the darkening sky, casting long shadows across the yard. Through the front window, he could see the flicker of movement—people laughing, passing plates, a burst of someone’s high-pitched voice.

It had been two months. And yet, pulling up to this house felt like a reflex. He’d spent entire holidays here. Off-seasons. Weeknights. Lazy Sundays. Y/N’s mom treated him like a second son, and her cousins never passed up an opportunity to challenge him to a basketball game in the driveway.

But this was different.

This was after.

Joe took a breath, then another, resting his forehead briefly against the steering wheel. His fingers flexed around the neck of the wine bottle he’d brought as a peace offering. He wasn’t sure who it was really for—Y/N’s mom, or Y/N herself.

He climbed out of the car and made his way up the porch steps.

The door opened before he could knock.

“Joseph!” Y/N’s mom greeted him like no time had passed at all. She pulled him into a hug that squeezed the breath out of him. “Lord, you still don’t call me enough.”

“Sorry, Mrs. L,” Joe said with a sheepish grin. “I brought wine?”

“You trying to bribe me?” she asked, plucking the bottle from his hands. “It’s working.”

Inside, the air was rich with spices—onion, celery, garlic, and heat. The gumbo simmered in a cast iron pot on the stove, and laughter echoed from the living room. The house felt alive.

He stepped into the kitchen, heart stuttering when he saw her.

Y/N stood at the stove, stirring the pot with one hand, her face turned slightly toward the doorway like she’d felt him arrive. She wore a faded Spelman sweatshirt and jeans, her curls piled loosely atop her head. The sight of her sent something crashing through his chest—grief, want, familiarity.

She turned slowly, her gaze meeting his.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft, careful.

“Hey,” he replied.

He hadn’t seen her in person since the breakup. Not really. There had been a brush of arms at a team event she helped organize. A glimpse of her car leaving his building. But not this—proximity, silence, her voice spoken only for him.

The tension between them was thick enough to chew.

Joe stayed out of the way during dinner, letting the family orbit him while Y/N moved through the room with practiced grace. Her cousins grilled him about the season. Her aunt complimented his posture. Her mom forced second and third helpings onto his plate. It was familiar, even comforting.

But beneath it all was the undercurrent—the absence they had tried to hide. Y/N laughed, but she didn’t look at him when she did. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were in the same room, breathing the same air, but the space between them held a history neither of them had figured out how to put down.

✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧

The table was set like it always had been—cloth napkins folded with care, the good dishes pulled from the cabinet where they were only ever used for holidays or homecomings. The gumbo simmered in the center, rich with heat and spice, and the peach cobbler cooled on the counter, its sugar crust still bubbling at the edges. The dining room glowed under the soft dome light, as if trying to pretend this was a normal evening, like dozens before it.

Y/N sat across from Joe. Her mother took the head of the table, ladling out generous portions as if she hadn’t just dropped a grenade into the calm of their lives by inviting her daughter’s ex-boyfriend to dinner without warning.

“So, Joseph,” her mom said, tone light but watchful. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

Joe looked up from his bowl, spoon poised mid-air. He swallowed whatever he'd been about to say, then offered a polite, measured smile.

“I’ve been good. Busy. Camp started a few weeks ago, so… full days. A lot of film. A lot of lifting. You know how it is.”

Her mother nodded, scooping more rice onto her plate. “Of course. You look tired, though. You getting enough rest?”

Y/N watched him glance briefly her way—just a flick of the eyes, quick and unsure.

“Trying to,” he said. “There’s always a lot on my mind this time of year.”

Y/N’s mother made a small sound of agreement, something between a hum and a sigh. “Well, I hope you’re eating enough. You always forget to feed yourself when the season starts. Y/N used to nag you about that constantly.”

“Still does,” Joe said, before he could stop himself.

The words hung there. They were soft. Not accusatory, not hopeful. Just… factual. Like a line from a shared history that neither of them could quite stop quoting.

Y/N pressed her lips together, reached for her glass of water, and took a long sip.

Y/N glanced at him without meaning to. He looked… different. The kind of different you only notice when you haven’t been allowed to look for a while. His hair was a little shorter, jaw sharper from preseason grind, but the tired under his eyes was the same. It always showed in August.

Her mother, of course, kept talking. “Well, you’ve certainly been busy. I saw you at the Met Gala.”

Joe blinked. “You did?”

“Oh, please,” she said, waving a hand. “The moment your photo hit the internet, Y/N was showing me every angle of that suit. That blue-on-blue? Absolutely gorgeous. You looked gorgeous.”

Y/N choked on her water.

Joe’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did she now?”

Y/N shot her mom a look. “I didn’t show you every angle.”

“You showed me enough,” her mom said, sipping her wine with barely disguised mischief. “He looked good. That suit was beautiful. Right, Y/N?”

The silence that followed was immediate and awful.

Y/N cleared her throat. “It was fine.”

“Fine,” Joe echoed, grinning now. “Wow. High praise.”

“You were styled well,” Y/N said carefully, stabbing her gumbo a little too aggressively. “Good tailoring. No complaints.”

Her mother beamed, delighted. “See? I raised a woman who knows a good lapel when she sees one.”

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “I’m putting that on my résumé.”

The laughter that followed was brief but real. And that was somehow worse.

Because for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still together. Like she could still reach under the table and rest her foot lightly against his like she used to when the conversation got too long and his mind started to wander.

Y/N didn’t reach. But she remembered.

“Your mom must’ve loved that look,” her mother continued. “She’s always said you clean up well.”

“She did,” Joe said. “She kept trying to get me to pose like I was on a cologne ad. Said I looked ‘mysterious.’”

He glanced across the table at Y/N.

“I didn’t feel mysterious. I felt like an idiot trying not to sweat through my shirt.”

Her mother looked between them but didn’t comment. She simply passed the hot sauce down the table.

“And your parents?” she asked instead, ever the master of casual redirection. “They doing okay?”

“They’re good,” Joe replied. “My mom says hi, by the way. She, uh… she was surprised when I told her I was coming here tonight.”

Y/N’s mom raised her brows, but her smile never wavered. “Was she now?”

He nodded, then hesitated. “Yeah. But I think… I think she was happy. Said it was nice to hear your name again.”

That landed differently. Softer. Slower.

Y/N’s fork paused mid-scoop, gumbo dripping back into the bowl. She didn’t look up.

“Tell her I said hello,” her mother replied, folding her napkin neatly in her lap. “And next time she’s in town, she better come over for coffee.”

“I will.”

They fell into silence for a beat—just the clink of silverware and the low hum of crickets outside the open window.

Joe took a bite, then set his spoon down.

“This is amazing, by the way,” he said. “I’ve missed your cooking.”

“You always did eat like you hadn’t seen food in days,” her mom teased gently. Then, with a glance in Y/N’s direction: “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to cook anything for yourself, have you?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, grateful for the normalcy of the jab. “I’ve cooked.”

Joe coughed into his napkin. “Microwaving Trader Joe’s doesn’t count.”

“I will kick you under this table, Burrow.”

He laughed—really laughed—and the sound hit her like a memory wrapped in sunlight.

Her mother just smiled, sipping from her glass of wine. “Well, some things haven’t changed.”

No one answered that. They didn’t have to.

After a moment, Joe reached for the breadbasket and passed it across the table to Y/N, the edge of his finger brushing hers.

She didn’t pull away.

✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧✧○♥ꊞ♥○ꊞ○♥ꊞ♥○✧

The lingering warmth of the evening wrapped the apartment in a quiet afterglow. The game blared from the living room as the rest of the group settled in front of the TV—familiar voices and laughter floating through the air, as if time hadn’t shifted beneath them. Y/N's mother, settled in her usual chair, clapped occasionally and cheered for a team she only pretended to follow. Her father, reclined with his legs up, seemed content enough just to be part of it all. The familiar hum of the house felt like a strange balm, smoothing over the awkwardness between her and Joe, even if they weren’t quite done with it yet.

But Joe, ever the gentleman—or maybe just trying to stay busy—hung back. As the others crowded into the living room, he made his way to the kitchen, where Y/N stood at the sink, sleeves pushed up, water steaming around her wrists. The clink of ceramic plates met the gentle trickle of running water.

“Hey,” she said, a quiet murmur as he began to collect the leftover dishes from the table, a familiar rhythm between them. “You don’t have to do that,” she said

Y/N didn’t immediately turn to look at him. Her hands worked in practiced motions, setting dishes into the sink, rinsing them with a quiet determination. The hum of the faucet seemed to fill the silence between them. She shrugged, still focused on the task at hand. “You didn’t have to come over.”

Joe paused. His hands, still holding a plate, lingered in the air. He let out a soft exhale, then placed it gently into the soapy water. “You didn’t invite me. She did.”

Y/N’s lips curved slightly in that half-smile he knew so well. “She made that pretty clear,” she said, her voice carrying an edge of humor, as if she were trying to dismiss the awkwardness that hung between them like a fragile thread.

“But you called me,” Joe said, his voice lower now, quieter.

Y/N set a plate down with a little more force than necessary, the sound sharper in the otherwise calm room. She didn’t look at him, but her words were steady. “Because I knew she wouldn’t leave me alone until I did.”

Joe stepped closer, moving to stand beside her at the sink. The space between them was small but charged, the faintest brush of his arm against hers making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The scent of his cologne, familiar and warm, mingled with the steam from the water. He kept his voice just above a whisper, careful not to break the fragile silence. “You could’ve just texted me.”

She finally turned, meeting his eyes. Really meeting them—no distractions, no excuses.

“I wanted to hear your voice,” she said, so softly it barely reached the space between them.

That was all it took. The weight of her words broke open everything they’d been carefully avoiding for months. Joe’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The kitchen felt suddenly smaller, the noise from the living room faint in the background like a distant memory.

“I didn’t want us to end like that,” Joe said, his voice rougher now, as if he were confessing something he hadn’t known how to say until this very second.

Y/N pressed her lips together, swallowing hard. Her gaze dropped to the sink, the water swirling in lazy spirals. She was quiet for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was tight. “Then why did we?”

Joe looked down, his jaw flexing as he considered the question. His fingers lingered on the plate he was holding, not sure what to do with it now.

“I thought I couldn’t give you what you needed,” he said, the words coming slow, weighed down with regret. “I thought if I loved you less, if I focused more on... everything else, I could keep my life from falling apart. And if I focused more, maybe I could be a better version of myself. But I was wrong. Because the whole time I was trying to make everything perfect, I... I loved you more than I thought I could. And that scared the hell out of me.”

Y/N held her breath as she absorbed his words, the rawness of them striking deep inside her chest. She glanced down at her hands, the wetness of the spoon she held reminding her of everything she’d lost in the silence between them.

“You hurt me, Joe,” she said, her voice a little smaller than she’d intended, her fingers trembling as they held onto the spoon. It was hard, even now, to say those words without feeling the weight of them.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve hated myself for it every day since.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, the hardness in her chest giving way to the tenderness she’d been guarding for so long. She turned toward him, her breath steadying, though her heart was racing. “What do you want from me?” The words felt like a plea, but she couldn’t keep them back. She needed to know.

Joe stepped a little closer, the space between them shrinking. He reached out, hesitated, then lowered his hand to his side. “I want another chance. I want to make it right. I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m here, Y/N. I’m all in, every day. Win or lose.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The room felt too small now, too close. She could hear the beating of her heart, the faintest sound of the game still playing in the background. But it was distant. Fading.

She wiped her hands on the dish towel slowly, the fabric rough under her fingertips. She exhaled a long, tired breath, not ready yet to make a decision, but not quite ready to say no. Not yet. “Well...” she murmured, the words slipping out with a quiet finality. “We can talk about it... after cobbler.”

Joe looked at her, eyes softening, and he couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. It was light, genuine—like a weight had been lifted, if only for a moment.

“Deal,” he said, his voice low but filled with relief.

Y/N turned to step toward the living room, but just before she reached the doorway, she felt him move behind her. His hand found her wrist, gentle but insistent, and in a swift motion, he pulled her back. Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb grazing the line of her jaw.

She froze for a heartbeat, caught between hesitation and something stronger—something she hadn’t let herself feel in months.

Then, slowly, carefully, he kissed her. It was soft at first, almost tentative, as if they were both unsure of the ground beneath them. But soon, the weight of it grew—layers of longing, regret, and the faintest trace of hope filling the space between their lips. It felt like the world was holding its breath.

And just as Y/N thought she might let herself fall completely into it, the sound of her mother’s voice—loud and unrestrained—broke through the quiet like a gong.

“Oh, finally!” her mom cheered from the living room, her voice so high-pitched with excitement that it echoed off the walls. “I’ve been waiting for this! Now you two can get started on those grandbabies!”

Y/N pulled back immediately, her face flushing crimson. She looked at Joe, embarrassed and wide-eyed, but he only laughed—his deep, genuine laugh that sent a flutter through her chest. His arms circled her, pulling her close, and in that moment, it wasn’t just the awkwardness of the situation that made her heart race. It was the warmth of him, the steadiness she’d always found in his arms.

“Well,” Joe said, his voice low and teasing, “I guess we better get started, huh?”

Y/N buried her face in his chest, both mortified and relieved at the same time. But as he held her close, she knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning.

[howlingday]

Prompt idea: Jaune puts his girlfriend Nora in timeout by hanging her from the back of her shirt of a hook on the wall and she's to short to get down. Jaune made sure it wouldn't choke her.

"You stay here and think about what you've done."

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Nora thrashed from her position, feet dangling in the air. "I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG!"

"One, yes, I can, and I just did." Jaune held up a finger, making his point, before lifting another. "And two, biting Zwei for taking a bite out of your pancakes is not nothing."

"I was asserting dominance! I eat first! He knows better now!"

"And what about biting Ruby and Yang when they tried to stop you?"

"Zwei is their dog, so they should be punished for teaching him bad manners!"

"And Oscar?" Jaune quirked his brow.

Nora stopped thrashing. "...Okay, in my defense, I kinda blacked out after I bit Yang."

"I'm going with Ruby to the vet to make sure Zwei is okay. Then I'm going to treat her to that breakfast place you like."

"Without ME?!"

"Yeah, without you." Jaune glared behind his pointing finger. "That's your punishment." Turning away, Jaune left her to dangle.

"THIS IS INHUMANE!"

"So is biting people..." Oscar mumbled, rubbing his bandaged arm.

"You want another one, Pinewood Chewtoy?"

"I-I'm not scared of you!" Oscar stammered out. "And even if I was, Ozpin would have my back!"

"Okay, one, you are so scared of me," she rolled her eyes, "and B, Ozpin was totally scared of me. Why else did you think he didn't make me a team leader?"

Oscar was quiet. Not from what Nora said, but more in that special way Oscar got quiet when Ozpin was talking to him. In a few blinks, one of them will come out to respond. One, two, three... "He says, 'Nuh-uh'." Oscar walked away, rubbing his arm.

"THE FUCK YOU MEAN NUH-UH?!"

--------------------------------------------------

"Sorry again for the short notice doctor." Jaune apologized.

"It's no problem, but I do ask that you keep your... 'neighbor's dog'," there's no way she bought that, "from biting Zwei here. Especially with how sick he is."

"Wait, he's sick?" Ruby asked.

"Mhm, he tested positive for Cavewolf Skin," she explained, "which is kind of a blessing in disguise, honestly, since his skin and hair is so thick that he should be relatively unharmed. Though brushing will require a lot more time and effort because of it. There's no real cure, though I would recommend shifting to a different shampoo for his baths." Zwei gave a whine.

"So, Zwei is completely fine otherwise?" Jaune asked.

"In terms of the attack, Zwei is fine. Your 'neighbor's dog', though," still not buying it, "will need to be more careful. Cavewolf Skin is harmless to human through physical contact, but ingestion may be a different story. Like, say, if a human swallowed a clump of loose Zwei hair..."

Jaune's skin felt cold. "What would happen then...?"

--------------------------------------------------

Downtown Argus was being ripped apart. Stomping down the streets, a girl covered in orange hair attacked anything that was the color yellow. Yellow cars were flipped over. People wearing yellow clothes were thrown through the air. Even the yellow rubber ducks were... Well, actually, they were okay, because they were made of rubber.

At the stature of Pyrrha, she raised her fist high to strike... Then stopped and apologized profusely because defacing a monument like this one would be an insult to both the memory of that person and everything they fought, believed in, and died for. Still the rampage continued, and civilians were advised to steer clear of the rampaging girl downtown.

"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUNE!" Bellowed the girl with orange hair and a chunk of wall to her back.

[thevalleyisjolly]

So I just rewatched Rogue One after finishing Andor Season 2. And it really has made me see the movie in a different way. This past season, I've read many critiques that Cassian in Season 2 seems to be a different character from the Cassian we see in Rogue One. The two primary concerns are commitment and obedience; Cassian wavers in his commitment to the Rebellion, and Cassian disobeys orders much more frequently which appears to undermine his decision not to kill Galen in the movie.

I've delved into the issue of commitment before, the TL;DR being that Cassian expresses these doubts and despair after surviving a horrifically traumatic event and that he never actually follows through with quitting even though there is little to functionally stop him. What I want to look at now is the issue of disobedience, and in order to do that, I think we have to start by understanding that Rogue One is, fundamentally, Jyn's story.

Yes, Rogue One is an ensemble cast movie about the many unnamed soldiers who give everything for a sunrise they'll never see. But the driving force in the narrative is Jyn. We start the movie with Jyn's childhood, and apart from occasional scenes necessary to advance the wider plot, we're following her perspective for much of the film. She's our viewpoint character for understanding the narrative as well as the other characters. It's a Star Wars story told through the story of Jyn Erso.

I want to point this out because it means that nearly every major character we meet, apart from legacy characters like Vader or Bail or Tarkin, exist in the film's story primarily through their relationship to Jyn's story. We don't get extensive Chirrut or Baze or Bodhi backstories because they are not in the story to provide different viewpoints. Bodhi reconnects Jyn to her father both through his official message and his personal memories of Galen; Chirrut and Baze provide faith and guidance through the doubt and darkness.

And then there's Cassian. Rewatching Rogue One through the lens of it being Jyn's story, I'm struck by how his role in the narrative is to Call Jyn, not to a grand adventure but to a home, to be the person and the leader she has the potential within to be. He challenges the self-interested worldview she's adopted out of necessity and trauma, he makes her look at herself and her decisions, he inspires her to hope and to fight and he's the first to welcome her home when she commits to the cause.

On the other hand, we're not told or shown very much about him (I'm deliberately not going into the novelization because the novelization, while incredibly written, top tier movie novelization, was written as a companion novel after the film was made and is there to enhance the film rather than be part of it structurally). Yes, Cassian has the biggest presence in the film and the story other than Jyn...but we aren't following Cassian's story. The things he tells us and shows us about himself -being in the fight since childhood, struggling with his orders to kill Galen- are things which exist in the context of his role in Jyn's story, to challenge and parallel her. He, like Jyn, has been in affected by the Empire since childhood but where he had to fight, Jyn chose to run. He cites his orders (and his disobedience) as Jyn is confronting him for trying to kill her father, and Jyn even directly calls him out for trying to "talk [his] way around this."

Yes, I agree it's a hugely significant moment in the film for Cassian to disobey the order to kill Galen, but I think the "why" is just as significant in the film as the act of disobedience itself. Cassian uses his orders as a justification when he's being confronted by Jyn, and a last resort justification too. He first dismisses her accusations as shock ("You're in shock. You don't know what you're talking about. ...You're in shock and looking for somewhere to put it."), then when Jyn continues, he defends himself by saying that he never actually did the deed ("I had every chance to pull the trigger. But did I? Did I?"). When Jyn counters with the evidence of the Alliance bombing raid, at last Cassian falls back on, "I had orders! Orders that I disobeyed!"

This isn't to say at all that it wasn't a huge struggle and a huge moment for Cassian to not kill Galen. He did disobey his orders in that moment and you can see the weight of the conflict on him. It's a turning moment in his journey within the movie; the moment he looks in on himself, at what he's about to do, and doesn't like what sees. The point I want to bring out is that everything he says and does afterwards is in the context of Jyn's story.

Jyn herself is at a crisis point in the narrative; her long-lost father has just died in her arms, thanks to the actions of the Alliance, and her father's dying wish is for the Death Star to be destroyed, something she cannot accomplish by herself. By the time she gets back to Yavin, she's standing up in front of the Alliance demanding that they take action. She's already made her decision. What happens now, in the stolen Imperial shuttle with Cassian, is the moment where she has to choose. Cassian, representing the Alliance who killed her father but also the billions, trillions of unnamed people who've had no choice but to fight the Empire since they were born, calls her out for her self-interest even as she challenges his culpability in her father's death. Yes, he admits, he had orders, but he didn't go through with them. You [Jyn] though, you wouldn't understand because you've chosen inaction. Jyn has not had to make the difficult decisions about whether to follow orders and do something she knows is wrong; she's only just decided to start caring.

Later, in Cassian's speech in the hangar, he says, "Everything I did, I did for the Rebellion. And every time I walked away from something I wanted to forget, I told myself it was for a cause I believed in. A cause that was worth it. Without that we're lost. Everything we've done would be for nothing." In that moment, he admits to Jyn and the audience that he's been holding onto the Rebellion and the cause as a reason for his actions. Every good or bad thing he's done, he's been able to justify it to himself as part of a fight that he's been forced into since childhood. In admitting this out loud, he both acknowledges that Jyn was right when she pushed back against his excuses ("Orders? When you knew they were wrong? You may as well be a stormtrooper.") and signals to Jyn and the audience that this mission now, this cause is worth it. He was lost but has found a purpose once more; just as Jyn was lost but is now home, in the right place at the right time as the leader she has inside her. This is Cassian's role in Jyn's story, the story through which we understand this Star Wars story. He challenges her and us to think about commitment and privilege and the unheroic side of rebellion; he inspires her and us to action and to hope.

Andor, on the other hand, is a Star Wars story through the story of Cassian. For that reason alone, the Cassian we meet is already going to be different because we're not seeing him through Jyn's eyes now. We are seeing Cassian the character through Cassian's perspective and for a much more longer period of time - five years where he is the main vessel for the narrative as opposed a few days where he is a character in someone else's story. We watch Cassian succeed and fail many times, we hear him doubt everything and inspire others, we see some of the events which shaped him and we come to understand his role in the events which we've come to know.

When Andor was first announced and throughout since, it was marketed as the story of how Cassian becomes the rebel we meet in Rogue One. And I think given that pitch, it's fair to criticize the apparent dissimilarities in character between Cassian in the show and Cassian in Rogue One. At the same time, I don't think Cassian in the show is an entirely different person from Cassian in the movie. Many of the same building blocks are there (charismatic, capable, deceptive, clever, manipulative, determined), but we're seeing the development of these traits now through Cassian's experiences rather than viewing them through Jyn's perspective. It definitely feels different, sometimes radically so, and it's not wrong by any means to prefer the more streamlined character we meet in Rogue One. Nor does this mean that ten years' worth of fan discussion and insight into the character is wrong! It just means that unless they remake Rogue One from Cassian's perspective, everything the character does in the film is structured and interpreted through the lens of Jyn's story and not his own.

So having said that, let's return to the issue of disobedience. In Andor Season 2, Cassian disobeys direct orders several times, each time in relation to information from Luthen (which goes a ways towards showing why everyone the Council except Mon is so mistrusting of him). So what orders is he disobeying? Both times he leaves Yavin, he does not have permission to go - although the first time, when he leaves for Ghorman, the rebels on Yavin are very loosely organized, Draven only makes a token effort to rein in Cassian, and they have no issue coming back. And...that's it. The second time, when he goes to Coruscant, he's ordered to stand down and he does not. Then, when they come back hot without a flight plan filed, they're confronted by an X-wing escort and afterwards, Cassian complies with what he's told (even though he vehemently disagrees with the Council about it).

When we look at Cassian's disobedience in Season 2, we see that the orders he disobeys are primarily related to permission. He has not been given permission to undertake these unsanctioned missions but he refuses to stand down and he leaves Yavin under false pretenses that everyone can see through. The charge is insubordination, and post facto, potentially exposing the rebel base and thus endangering the Alliance. Contrast this with the order he's given in Rogue One - do not extract the target but rather kill him. This is not an order related to his position within the Rebel Alliance; this is a mission directive to eliminate a perceived threat. And while I think there's a definite criticism to be made of the "lone agent" elements of his insubordination in Season 2, I don't think it fundamentally undermines his moral and personal struggle in Rogue One about refusing to kill Galen.

There's a difference between not listening to your boss' orders because you want to pursue a personal matter, and choosing to disobey an order to kill someone because it would be wrong. One is a decision that anyone can be faced with at any time, the other is a fundamentally moral issue and one that is complicated into a struggle for Cassian because of the nature of the situation. When you've been fighting a fascist regime your whole life, living through atrocities and doing some terrible things in the name of the cause, and you now have the opportunity to take out an important engineer in the regime's weapons program, is it a greater crime to kill them or let them live? At this point, they don't know what else Galen Erso has been working on, if he hasn't been developing other devastating weapons for the Empire. And what if you had to look their daughter in the eye afterwards, the daughter who believed that you were going to save him, whom you lied to about his safety?

This is getting long, so the last thing I'll say is that it's absolutely valid (and important!) to critique Andor over how well it executed its goal of showing Cassian's journey. There are elements that I personally agree were a little rougher and inconsistent, such as the hints that he's some kind of "destined" chosen one or the development of his relationship with K-2SO which could have done with more time. What I really want to say though is that Cassian is a complex character, whom we now have multiple hours of story and screen time through which to examine (and re-examine!) him. And this opens up so much room for discussion and textual criticism, and I hope that we're able to keep talking about and enjoying Cassian Andor long after his story ends.

[leaawrites]

My Girlfriend

Part 2 to Your Girlfriend

Eli Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: when Eli meets up with an old friend, he's far more interested in his girlfriend

Warnings: making out, toxic relationship (not Eli), swearing, breaking up with your boyfriend for Eli

Wordcount: 2.9k

Masterlist, Inhaler Masterlist

The hours ticked by in slow motion, her eyes drained on the still unopened door of her flat. Phone, still turned on, laying on the little table beside her, reading the text Tom had sent 30 minutes ago.

'I'm heading out now, be there in five.'

Nothing else.

It was the first text he'd sent that day, not texting again after leaving her with Eli, a person she barely knew, in a cafe because of his work. No extra apology, no 'hope you got on well enough and he wasn't too annoying', no question as to whether she got home safe that day or not. It was complete radio silence until he made sure that she was still free for him.

Engaged but not living together. It was laughable. Comical in a sense that made her want to cry. When bringing up the topic of moving in together, it was always the same on his side. An eye roll, gushing about how she was acting so clingy before answering with an, 'My apartment is like my second office. If we move in together you'd feel like a part of it. I don't need more distractions than I already have.'

So after a bit, she stopped asking altogether.

Keeping their private lives separated by five streets. His work place in the middle of it all. A five minute walk away from her flat. A five minute walk that took him thirty minutes and soon a full hour until the lock finally clicked and Tom came walking in. Throwing his keys on the dresser and his coat over her own when a free hanger was available for him. One she emptied for him.

"What took you so long?" she asked, watching him as he walked into her kitchen, brewing himself a cup of coffee. Acting like nothing was wrong.

If she was being honest, she couldn't stop thinking about Eli's words. He wasn't paying attention to her, wasn't asking questions. He stood in her kitchen like it was theirs, treating her home like it was his when he made it clear that he didn't want that to be a truth. Making her wait like she was depended on him.

In the span of 5 minutes, Elijah Hewson had asked her more questions than Tom did in 3 years. A guy she only met was more interested in her than her own fiance, the man she was gonna spent her life with. She deserved better, right? She deserved to have someone that loved her and showed it too. But for how long would that hold?

Eli was sweet, he was nice as they talked. But how long would it take for him to get bored of her? It wasn't like she was the Rockstar's girlfriend dream. There was nothing that made her stand out to anyone that knew her after college. Over the course of college, every girl seemed interesting to guys. Afterwards, they had the whole world.

"Do you remember the guy I told you about?" Tom asked, pulling her out of her daydreams. "The one who wanted to invest in the company with quite a big sum?" Humming quietly she tried figuring out where this was going. "I'm having dinner with him in an hour. Would it be a problem if we rearrange ours?"

At his question, her face fell. "You mean, our engagement dinner date?"

"Yeah, that one. We can do it another day, can't we? This is just really important to me. I'm also gonna take a shower and change here, because the restaurant is nearer to your apartment. That way I can relax a bit beforehand. It would be nice if you could leave me on my own for that time though. If it isn't making any complications. But you've got nowhere else to go anywhere, so I bet it won't be a problem for you. Now would it?"

He couldn't be fucking serious, now could he?

Putting on a sickly sweet smile with pressed together lips, she tilted her head as he wasn't even looking at her anymore. Already making his way into her bedroom to take out the clothes he had put away in her closet.

"Be my guest," she said, standing up to follow him.

Taking out clothes herself to go out in, she couldn't even look at him while he stood next to her. Changing out of her comfort clothes and into the ones she planned to wear for their date, throwing her leather jacket over it, she made her way towards the door. Stopping as she watched his keys laying on her dresser from the corner of her eye. Her own keys in her jacket pocket. The all too familiar shape gracing her fingers as she loosened her own from his key chain. Stuffing them into her pocket so he wouldn't find them, even though he would hardly look for them.

Walking out onto the street, she could see the light in her apartment still burning. His frame walking through in shadows.

She had nowhere to go, right? If only he knew.

Looking up his name, she quickly found his band too. Inhaler. Putting a mental note up for herself to ask him about the name later, she kept on looking. Searching for the venue they were playing at, purchasing a ticket and making her way down the street soon enough.

Arriving ten minutes after doors, she found a place close to the bar. Waiting with her eyes glued to her phone as her finger hovered about the 'follow' button on his profile. He wouldn't see it now anyway. Why was she still so afraid of the possibility of him recognizing her?

Trying to remind herself, that no matter where this might lead, whether it would be only a night or a lifetime, she was grateful that he made her realize that she didn't need to be treated the way Tom treated her.

While checking for the time, her eyes recognized something else on the top of his profile. 'Accept following request'.

Pressing down on the blue button, she quickly followed him back before stuffing her phone away. Waiting for the show with a drink in her hand.

The show was incredible. It didn't matter that there were only a few hundred people gathered in the small space, the buzz and energy was the same as in a stadium filled with thousands. The people knew the songs, they new the guys. She only knew him. Watching Eli move and sing wasn't as hard as she thought at first. He was magnifying. Knowingly looking extra slutty with his lips stuck to the mic.

Besides singing a few of the choruses she picked up throughout the night, she kept mostly to herself. Cheering when a song ended and eventually pulling out her phone to get a video of him. Already planning on becoming obnoxious about attending this small gig once they've gotten bigger. If this night was going nowhere, at least she got the memories of attending the gig with her forever.

"Thank you so much for coming," Eli spoke into the mic, both hands holding on to it. Sweat running through his hair as he ran his hand through it. The shirt he wore over the white tank was now somewhere backstage. Laying helplessly after being tossed away in the heat of the moment. "We love you all. Good night."

And then the stage lights went out, their bodies disappearing into the shadows, rushing away to get ready to go home. Bodies tumbled against each other. Faces streaked with tears and smiles. The big lights turning on, blinding the people that were used to the colorful tainted bodies of the band. They were back to normal.

It was over.

Finishing her drink, she kept on looking down at her phone. The screen showing only the picture of the sea she took last year in Italy while on holiday. The holiday Tom had spent writing e-mails and losing track of time hunched over his laptop until she went out without him.

Just like now. An endless circle of misery. One she was gonna break the moment she walked outside and her phone lit up again. A text notification popping up.

'So you've been thinking about our conversation from yesterday'

Another one following shortly after.

'Or am I gonna make a fool out of myself when I say that I think I saw you at the show tonight?'

Laughing at his message, she started typing before she could think clearly. Butterflies swarming her chest. The feeling had grown so foreign in the last couple years. It was always just a sense of familiarity in every situation. Good or bad, it felt all the same. Every touch felt like an accidental brush. Every word felt like it was spoken in a foreign language. One she wasn't willing to learn just to understand it. She wanted it to feel natural.

'I may or may not have just filled half of my memory card with your face'

In the room inside the building, Rob was raising his eyebrow at the smiling boy opposite him who hadn't reacted the first three times his name was called. Eli's eyes never wavering from the screen in front of his face after they settled down in the backstage area to calm down from their high.

"Dude, what's going on with ya?" He asked, the other three lads already looking his way too. Exchanging looks of suspect and high interest.

They haven't heard the end about how his old friend had become this complete douche who had no idea what kind of woman he was able to call his fiancee. At least that's what he hoped she wasn't anymore.

'So you were the girl who couldn't stop filming?'

"It's nothing," Eli replied casually, still not looking up. A wide grin tucking on his lips.

"Sure," Ryan trailed off, stretching the letters a bit more than convincing. "You lot ready to go out?"

'I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only girl with a phone in her hands'

'You got any good shots then?'

'A few solid ones, yeah'

'Maybe you could show me? You know, for promotion and stuff. It's always good to have fan recordings. Makes it seem more organic'

'If you want to see them, you're gonna have to rescue me from the cold streets'

"I might skip tonight." Finally lifting his head. Already grabbing his jacket and starting to put it on.

'Where exactly are you?'

"You got somewhere else to be already?" Josh asked smugly from the side, trying to hide his laughter behind his hand as him and Ryan exchanged a knowing look.

"Is it by any chance a girl you've met yesterday that's most likely leaving her fiance for you?" Ryan asked, almost busting into laughter in between his words.

"Shut up," Eli muttered before leaving the room with quick feet and a huge grin covering his face.

The cold air outside made his breath visible as his eyes frantically searched for her silhouette. About two other people were also waiting, realizing rather quickly who he was as they'd just seen him live for approximately 90 minutes. Asking for a picture he didn't decline and when he looked into the camera, she was standing just a few feet behind it.

His eyes looking past the lens, watching as her focus shifted from her phone screen and towards where he was stood. A small smile grazing her lips at the sight of him. His own widening only a bit more as the camera flashed and the girl, that he had his arm thrown over her shoulder, was squealing in excitement. Thanking him sincerely before moving on, getting into the uber that arrived for them in time.

With slow steps, Eli walked closer to her, trying his best to look like it wasn't a big deal to him that she showed up. To his show. For him. Alone.

"Hey," she said, as he stepped in front of her. Hands anxiously tapping against her leg as she shivered from the cold.

"You're actually here," he said, chuckling at how dumb it sounded once he said it.

Laughing with him, she started to turn around, walking somewhere he wasn't aware of.

"You were really good," she complimented him, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks, but he quickly put it onto the cold air and not on how fast his heart was beating in his chest at her presence and her words. "I'm glad you made me come see you."

"I'm glad you came to see me- us."

"Where's Tom now?" He asked, not quite sure what would be an appropriate question and what was too much to ask. Though it seemed rational in his mind to ask. After all, the ring on her finger was now missing.

"At some dinner with someone I don't know," she explained, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets where it laid. The cold metal gracing the skin it once laid on. "We were supposed to go out as an engagement celebration, kind of. Work was just too important once again for him." Nodding her head as if she had to think about her next words, she continued, "I also couldn't stop thinking about your words. That I deserve someone better, someone who's actually interested in what I have to say about something for once. I guess, I was just too scared to realize that too before now."

"Why? I mean, you're great. Why do you think you have to end up with someone like him?"

"Tom always went on and on about how women, the moment they are out of uni, have minimal chances of getting a good man anymore because most are already in a happy relationship at that point. If you hear something enough times you start to believe it. I never thought anyone else would ever be interested in me again, so I kept the one who tolerated me."

It sounded pathetic when she said it, words she knew weren't true but seemed to feel realer than anything else she'd ever heard about real life as an adult. Most of her friends were happily committed when they left uni, it just made sense to stay that way. It was suffocating but it wasn't killing her immediately like loneliness would've.

"What made you change your mind then so quickly?"

With him it felt like she could breath for the first time.

"If you meet the right person, I think you just know. It doesn't have to be the right person forever but sometimes a moment in pure ecstasy is enough to go the right way." Looking up at him, the two of them stopped in front of her apartment building. The light of the hall illuminating their wide eyes and heartbeats pulsating through their veins. "Little consistent heaps of adrenaline are what bring you to the end of life, not convenient breathing."

Her words were stuck on his mind as Eli tried making sense of what she was saying and his own thoughts trying to intertwine them. Was he one little heap of adrenaline to her? Was he a moment of pure ecstasy to her when she was the only thing on his mind ever since he saw her?

"Are you gonna go back to him again tomorrow morning? Is he gonna return to your bed when his dinner is done and the ring he bought you is back on your finger?" Eli asked, leaning back against the wall to bring a convenient distance between them that wouldn't scare her off.

Truth been told, he would take this little moment on her mind if it was all that she was willing to give him. Even though he knew he shouldn't let her, he didn't take her fingers away when they grazed his jaw. Fingertips trailing over his cheek and lips. Falling down against his neck and fixing the collar of his leather jacket.

"My keys are gone from his key chain, I took them off when I left. I don't want to go back to him, not when you are still by my side in the morning."

Without another thought, Eli leaned down to press his lips against hers. Chasing after her mouth every time she pulled away to catch her breath or let out a laugh at how messily his hands were tangled in her clothes and hair.

"You wanna go inside?" she asked, the sounds muffled against his lips as he wouldn't let her go.

Nodding his head and humming against her lips, he didn't wait for her to open the door before picking her up, unlocking the door and carrying her towards the elevator.

"Eli," she said, trying to push him away with a laugh as they waited for the lift to come down. Trying again and again until she held his jaw tightly in her hands, not letting him move. "This is fun and all, but I actually like my neighbors and don't want them to have a heart attack because most of them are too old for that to happen to them and them getting out alive."

"Just wait till we're behind closed doors, alright?" she tried again as he whined, reluctantly letting her thighs go from his grip and helping her balance herself on weak legs once the elevator pinged and opened it's doors for them.

[daizyblood]

//SPOILERS// For today's E.A.P.S episode

Mmmmm, hahaha- People are partly right when they say Charlie isn't to blame

The adults (minus Eclipse) are to blame.

HENRY is to blame.

Everyone saw how Charlie was behaving and did jackshit. (Again, excluding Eclipse)

But more specifically, Henry didn't correct his own daughter's behavior. Children are who you mold them into (typically) so her having no regard for personal boundaries or an understanding of consent is heavily reflective of what kind of parent Henry is.

Eclipse took care of her while Henry was out of the picture, which was nice but Charlie is no longer his responsibility outside of helping her with her powers, he shouldn't have had to give her so many warnings (not turning him into a baby for example, he did tell her not to do that), Henry should've stepped in before it got to this point.

Charlie however is not an idiot or an innocent child, she is a preteen, 11 is far too old to be acting like this, even without Henry actively teaching her boundaries she should've been able to learn them by interacting with other children or people generally.

Eclipse shouldn't have told her that the best thing she did was die, that was absolutely not okay, but him saying that doesn't suddenly make him part of the problem, it's a blip in contrast to how he's been treated before.

It's still bad regardless, and I have seen some people say it was probably the virus-

Oh right, that, the world-ending catastrophe that Eclipse is responsible for keeping at bay and/or getting rid of.

Charlie's powers are important but not as important as THE END OF THE WORLD, yes a lack of attention can cause children to act out, especially when it's someone who previously spent a lot of time with them, but hitting him in the face with a... What was it? A hammer? Whatever it was, she still hit him, turning him into a baby and making fun of him? Bothering him non-stop during a high stress situation? Like c'mon, wtf-

Apart from Henry, there are so many people who could be teaching her otherwise, who should be explaining to her why what she is doing isn't okay, but, once again, she is also too old to be doing this shit.

And that "apology" was baffling, girly pop, respectfully... No-

I get she was just doing what Ruin asked (distraction 💃🪩) however she could've done literally anything else.

Charlie may be a child but she still needs to take accountability (as does Henry for lacking in his parenting)

And virus or not, Eclipse should apologize for saying smth like that, cause that was wild 😭

NOT ONLY THAT Charlie needs to redo that apology and be given an appropriate punishment (grounding, taking of a privilege, extra chores JUST SMTH-)

Eclipse has his own responsibilities, his children, the virus, himself- so on, he can't always be dealing with Charlie nor should he have too when she has a present parent.

OMG AND ROXANNE oh you- WHY I OUGHTA- Girl, you cannot be there enforcing said behavior, cause that's not okay either.

She has seen Eclipse in his darkest moment and still treated him like that.

Fucking crazy, some friend 💀

Anyway now that I've got that off my chest... Maybe I'll go draw? Idk still not feeling great... Mkay baaiiiiiii

OH and for anyone confused on the episodes I'm talking about (y'know, for future when this post is no longer relevant-), the one where Eclipse gets hit is "Charlie Becomes A DENTIST!" The one where he turns into a baby is "ECLIPSE BECOMES A MISERABLE BABY!" And the one where shit really hits the fan is "ECLIPSE HATES CHARLIE!!!"

[maleyanderecafe]

Fear Bonding (Visual Novel)

Created by: Night Asobu

Genre: BL/Thriller

Fear Bonding is still a demo but I am very intrigued by the opening already. A main lead that feeds on fear, two possible yanderes and a beautiful manga-like artwork. This is from someone who worked on Parasite in Love, so I'm sure this will be a fun game as well. The full game will be out on the 24th so I'm pretty excited.

The story starts with Hinata watching the news as he waits for his next shift at the ambulance. As he watches, he enjoys the fear that he sees on tv screen, practically salivating at the food. It seems he hasn't eaten well in a while, not being able to feed on any food but rather eating food. He gets a call that he's needed for an emergency for the ambulance, and fills out some forms as he waits in the ambulance to reach the location. We learn that the call was because a man called stating that his girlfriend cut herself and was hurt, but he was able to intervene. However, after listening to the call, Hinata questions this as the events of the stories sound odd. Upon reaching the place, Hinata talks to the boyfriend, Kosuke and finds that he has an intense fear of abandonment that comes off of him. He goes inside to see his girlfriend holding the wound down as she sits on the couch. He views her fear, seeing that it seems like her fear is that she feels suffocated by something. He consumes some of the fear just by touching her arms, but stops before he becomes intoxicated. Hinata and his group take care of the wound and bring her into the hospital. Eventually, Hinata returns home, still thinking of the couple, wanting to meet them again, especially the guy so he can actually have enough fear to fill himself with. He concocts a plan to go and unassumingly visit her and Hinata later on, and decides to work on his guitar for the jazz festival. As he plays, we get to learn more of his mindset, of how he generally keeps people at an arm's length and how he has to be cautious when trying to consume fear. He gets a text from his stalker, someone who seems to have been following him for a while, which leads to him losing his motivation to play his guitar.

When he gets to the hospital, he overhears Kousuke and the girlfriend, Shiraishi arguing with each other. He hears the two talking with Yukiko wanting to break up with Kousuke, and Hinata slowly piecing together that it was probably Kousuke who was the one who got so clingy that he slashed her neck. As he eavesdrops, he hears Shiraishi talk about how suffocating Kousuke is: overwhelming her with gifts, how he never considers her point of view and because he prevents her from seeing her family and friends. Eventually she successfully breaks up with him, only to have him coming out. Hinata invites him out to eat to talk to him about the break up (and eat his fear) and after a bit of persuading he successfully gets him to go. The two go to an izakya resteraunt and Hinata gets him a couple glasses of beer to loosen him up and get him to talk. Kousuke starts to talk about Yukiko, how he feels like this is how he should be dating, to be devoted to the other, making up excuses like the fact that jobs take up so much time and that it wasn't his fault that she got seperated from her family and friends. From what Hinata can understand, he made Yukiko the center of his life and he expected the same from her. As he tries to bring Kousuke home, he tells him to stay, leading to Hinata sitting next to him and helping him walk home, even deciding to pay for everything so he will come back as he'd feel indebted. As he brings Kousuke home, Hinata is conflicted on what to do, to try to get in a relationship with him and get close to him so he can eat his fears. When Hinata gets to the apartment, Kousuke grabs his arms asking him to hug him. As Kousuke hugs him he becomes very clingy asking if he will abandon him before Hinata is able to calm him down, stating that they can exchange numbers. When he leaves, he gets a text from his stalker who seems incredibly unhappy that Kousuke is in the picture now.

I will say that I really like this game's artstyle in terms of it mimicing a more manga crosshatching style that focuses on monochromatic color schemes. I like the way it transitions into different scenes, using black borders and notifying whenever there's a location change. I have a fondness for more intentionally stylized visual novels and games and I think this game has so far shown a very great way of doing so. I also am a fan of the main character, since I tend to like more unconventional if a bit evil or morally grey main characters when it comes to visual novels like this. Hinata is a demon that feeds off of fear and tends to keep himself an arms length away from any good relationships. He seems to be a being that is mostly fueled by his hunger, though he does seem to have picked up hobbies like joining a band. I like seeing him become more methodical when trying to go closer to his "food" trying to think up excuses to get closer to Kousuke to consume his fear as well as getting him drunk to make him looser. Despite knowing that it'll be dangerous, Hinata takes good risks into getting closer to his food, though he is smart enough to plan and back out if needed. As a main character, I really like how smart he is and how aware he is of his situation, yet he can't help but want to chase after his food in a way. There's something about his nature that makes him very interesting and sinister despite the fact that it seems he puts himself in danger a lot of times just to consume the fear he enjoys so much. I really hope to see what kinds of dangers he might put himself into in the future, especially with his stalker and Kousuke.

Kousuke we know quite a lot about and probably even more through context. Though not confirmed, it seems pretty clear that he was the one who ended up slashing at Yukiko's throat, presumably when she tried to break up with him the first time. From what we see, Kousuke has a very intense fear of abandonment, which leads to the more yandere behaviors Yukiko experiences, such as being suffocated by him, having her friends and family cut off and being too excessive in lovebombing her. What's more, it seems that Kousuke doesn't actually see what's wrong with that, giving more excuses to what he wants in a love, though he does perhaps realize he took it too far, and believed that he wanted her to center his life around him just as he did to her. We see this a bit too when Hinata attempts to leave him at his place, with his fear of abandonment growing even stronger as he wants Hinata to stay. Hinata remarks a couple times too that he knows that Kousuke is dangerous yet at the same time much like a puppy in terms of how he calms down. I imagine in the future, it will be harder and harder for Hinata to get him off of his back at times, considering how possessive he is towards Yukiko when they were dating, and that he might slowly be consumed by the fear he was chasing. Either way, it will not end well for the two of them.

Finally there's the unknown stalker that Hinata is dealing with. Currently Hinata views this person as a nuance and it seems that this might be the other yandere that the game has. Unlike Kousuke, the stalker seems to be much more on a obsessive state, with him stalking and getting Hinata's phone number. I'm kind of curious why Hinata doesn't attempt to seek him out, I'm guessing because he doesn't know if the stalker has some sort of fear that he can feed off of. I have a feeling that him and Kousuke will be clashing in the future as well, seeing how angry the stalker was when he saw him with Hinata. There isn't much we know about him other than he was at a couple of performances (we also don't know if Hinata has actually seen this stalker) and we don't really know too much about Hinata's band life either, but I think it would be a fun thing to watch seeing two yanderes fight each other or otherwise interact.

Overall a good start to a game. I'm always fond of more sinister MCs and I want to see how this entire thing crumbles at the end. The art style is very good and it has a nice hook to get people reeled in. I am hoping to see the full game sometime in the future.

[htchnr]

꩜ 03 missed kisses 𑣲 B. POINDEXTER.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜsummary,, Dex discovers that you've been sketching him + your first official meeting. author notes at the end. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, not beta'd yet cus i'm tired ⋆ stalking ⋆ obsessive behaviour ⋆ small talk ⋆ slight teasing/flirting(?) ⋆ Dex's brain short circuits ⋆ delusional thoughts. ꜜwc,, 1,7k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

it's late in the evening, the summer sun has started to set as you and Dex sketch away. your new favorite show is playing in the background-- Criminal Minds-- and Dex finds humor in the show of choice.

the volume's low, barely audible for Dex. he knows you'll have it on a reasonable, yet clearly audible volume. unlike your upstairs neighbor, you actually take into account that you have neighbors and dislike having anything turned up too loud.

besides, he knows you've got sensitive ears and are very sensitive to migraines.

his watch beeps as the current episode ends, eleven o'clock. it takes you a few minutes, assumably to finish up your current thought while drawing, before you pause the credits and get up to stretch.

you exhale deeply and dramatically, setting your sketchbook on your coffee table. you mosey into your kitchen, making a mug of tea for yourself. Dex hums, tea does sounds good right now. but his strong curiosity for what you're drawing drowns out the thought of tea.

he picks up the binoculars with two lazy fingers, moving to hold the object better as he peers through them. once he gets a clear, slightly slanted view of your sketchbook, his breath hitches and his eyes widen. it's a sketch of him.

he lowers the binoculars quickly, his heart rate picking up a tad. he swallows, looking down at his own sketchbook; it's a sketch of you, while you're drawing.

for him it makes sense, he knows you. but you don't know him. maybe you've seen him down at the store? or maybe in the foyer in passing? no, he would've known.

you come back into view in your living room, setting your fresh mug of tea down on the coffee table. you pick up your sketchbook again, looking over the drawing. you're smiling.

Dex can barely stop a smile of his own stretching across his thin lips, his hazel eyes wide in awe and disbelief at the whole sight.

it's safe to say, that he'll carry this moment with him for weeks and months to come.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

it's been three weeks and four says since that day, and it still brightens Dex's day each time he thinks about it. he's walking through the park out front of the apartment complex, you're sitting on a bench beneath a tree, sketching away peacefully.

he observes how your bench is the only one with extra space, seeing as it's in the shade and slightly away from the main area. all the other benches are occupied, everyone's enjoying and soaking up the sun.

he takes a deep breath, trying to steady his heart rate as he slowly meanders in your direction. he shoves his hands in his pockets, deciding that this will be the day you officially meet.

" i'm sorry to bother, do you mind if i sit next to you? " his voice is steady, his expression neutral, but warm. everything that would make him seem as harmless as possible.

you look up, eyes a little wide. Dex watches your face heat up a little as your eyes meet his. you swallow, angling your sketchbook away from him ever so slightly. " uh, yeah- sure! " you smile up at him, and Dex's brain is going haywire.

he returns the smile, sitting down beside you where you've made a little extra space. he's quiet for a few minutes, pretending to be interested in the view off to the side. when in reality he's trying to soak up as much of your perfume as possible, the scent is so very you and he cannot get enough of it.

" great weather this week, huh? " he asks, keeping his eyes ahead of him.

you hum from beside him, your pencil scratching away at the paper. he feels the slight weight of your eyes every few minutes when you try to glance subtly at him. he's guessing it's to get his features just right.

" yeah, i'm so glad the storm's passed. nothing quite beats drawing in the park with weather like this. " you smile, not lifting your eyes from the paper.

Dex teasingly glances to the side, " drawing? " he's grinning oh-so wide internally. " mind if i ask what you're drawing? " he knows what you're drawing, it's a sketch of him, but he wants to hear you say the words.

you look up, a shy yet equally teasing look on your face. you angle the book away a little more with a smile. " an artists never spills their work-in-progresses. "

Dex grins, this day will hang around in his thoughts and dreams for the rest of his life, he thinks. he nods, leaning back as he visibly settles against the wooden bench. " guess i'll just enjoy the weather while i wait then? " he watches you grin from the corner of his eye, the expression reaching your eyes.

it's comfortably quiet as you two sit together. Dex listens intently to the sound of your pencil against the paper, the scratching soothes his thoughts about work the past few weeks. he smiles to himself as he imagines the next episode of your show playing, closing his eyes as he immerses himself in the fantasy.

you, curled up beside him on the couch as you both draw. the show playing in the background at a volume between the two levels you two prefer-- a loving compromise.

it's so soothing, Dex actually loses track of the time a little. the beep of his watch is the thing that pulls him out of his thoughts. he blinks, his eyes adjusting to the sun again. he looks over to the side, finding you hastily looking away with warm cheeks. he smiles.

he turns to face you, an arms swung over the back of the bench. " have i seen you around here? " he squints a little, all part of the perfect act.

you look up, a sheepish smile on your lips. " maybe, " you trail, gauging his reaction. when he leans in a little, feigning suspicion, you cave. " i live in the apartment complex back there, " you nod to the building. " i've seen you around in the foyer a few times. "

Dex's heart skips at your words-- you've noticed him. his lips twitch, trying to keep his mask up. " ah, that must be it. " he nods, taking a choreographed glance around the park to take his eyes off you. in a few seconds his eyes return to yours. you've returned your attention back to your drawing, a warm smile on your lips.

he grins, " so, potential neighbor. any chance i can sneak a peek before i head back inside? " he teases. he doesn't actually want to head inside, but he's noticed the buzz of his phone which could only mean a case.

you look up, holding the sketchbook to your chest. you squint at him, as if dramatically thinking about your answer. " that depends. " you offer.

Dex raises a brow before leaning in. he's never one to back down from a challenge. " ..on what? " he returns curiously. externally, he's calm and playfully interested. internally? he's a smiling, hopeful mess.

you grin at his response. " i'll show you a peek, if you give me your name. "

Dex mirrors your grin. this afternoon is going even better than he imagined. he holds out his hand, keen hazel eyes watching your face for any signs.

you reach out, and Dex tries to mentally brace himself for the feeling of your hand. and to his credit, he only lets a twitch of his brow slip as your hand embraces his. " it's Dex. " he nods, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Dex almost fears that you can hear his brain malfunction at the feeling of your painfully soft hand in his rough and calloused one. his hand is much large than yours, yet you've still got a firm handshake.

you grin, " Dex? huh, it suits you. " you chuckle. he can feel himself almost drown in the way you say his name, as if you're testing how it feels on your tongue. he's so caught up in replaying the sound that he just barely catches your name. he knows your name, but it sounds so soft and pure coming from your lips rather than his thoughts.

you two let go, his hand returning to his lap and yours returning to hold your sketchbook. " well.. given the time, i'm going to head back up as well. " you say as you glance down at your phone. right, he had gotten that message he needed to check. he had almost forgotten while swimming in the warmth of your hand.

you stand up, pulling a page loose from your sketchbook. Dex cringes internally at the sound, an action he'd never do to his own book. his hazel eyes widen as you gently push the piece of paper into his view, a happy yet sheepish smile on your lips. " you can have it. "

Dex takes the page, and before he can properly take in the contents you've already started walking away. " have a nice rest of your day, Dex! " you call out, waving in his direction with your free hand.

he scrambles around his thoughts, a little overwhelmed by each thing he wants to respond to. " you have a nice day too! " he returns, mirroring your small wave as he watches you turn around and disappear through the front door to the complex.

he glances back down at the paper, his wide eyes sweeping the page eagerly. his own face stares back at him, drawn from the side. he's smiling in the drawing, a genuine smile. Dex finds that he can't wipe the muscle-aching smile off his face even if he would want to.

and at the bottom of the page, written in neat handwriting;

'to Dex :)'

「 ꜜauthors note,, they finally officially met!! i kinda wanted to drag it out longer and have it be a while till they met, but this idea popped into my head and i just hadddd to write it. 」

「 ꜜdex taglist,, @imnez-daydreams @lovelydivs @babyangeldex @cosmic-marauder @13eyond13elief @weallhaveadestiny @princessstar655 @kittytw0 @karinas-void @dragonamongwolves @madelynneb @sotragedynut . 」

𑣲 join the taglist ٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Disclaimer: Angst. All of it. Long and intense. Be warned. Reader death.

Gender neutral reader.

He didn't want Daisy at first.

Okay, that's a little harsh but he just didn't really consider himself a pet guy - never had a family dog or cat growing up, there was a fish he won at the state fair when he was nine, Sargent Bubbles.... it uh.... didn't make it week. Besides that he wasn't really that all interested. He thought his mother was the same way up until his dad died, she then lived by herself on the other side of state and he felt bad because of his work and constantly being restationed that he couldn't be closer to her and she made it abundantly clear with that Texan stubbornness she would never move out of that home her and Dad worked so hard to get, so he supposed getting animal made sense - but usually when think that you'd think of getting a dog or cat or something... not a damn rabbit.

Which has led him to his current situation.

The caramel colored rabbit chewed quietly on the plastic grass on the floor, ears so long and tall that were practically antennas on the top of her head as she mindlessly ate, completely unaware her owner was cold in the ground as of yesterday.

You and him sat on the twenty year old threadbare lawn chairs that sat in the indoor pin - in what used to be his childhood bedroom - and watched her, she had stopped eating and hopped around your feet. He feels at his face, more emotionally exhausted he's felt since Dad died and he already knows the awaiting conversation on your tongue the past hour.

He looks over to see you crouched over in your chair, holding your hand out patiently to see if the rabbit would take interest which she did but would only stay about a good distance away from your hand - that is until you bribe her. The carrot stick you retrieve buys you her affection immediately as she loudly chews in your hand until the thing is entirely vanished and she proceeds to headbutt your palm in return, either as a show of appreciation or a demand for more he isn't sure but there was one thing he was is that you were absolutely eating it up that being the moment he decides to bite the bullet.

"(Name)," He doesn't even have to say it as you turn to look at him, bunny headbutts still being applied to your hand.

"Flynn," You reply mimicking his serious tone. He sighs, clenching his hands anxiously together and falls back further in the chair too small for him.

"We live in a tiny apartment, when we have to move there's good chance we move into somethin' tinier and so on. You can't really think-"

"Where else would she go? The shelter? I don't think they even take in rabbits. And she's a domesticated rabbit she can't just be released in the wild and we live in Texas." He swallows.

"With assignments I'm gone a lot I wouldn't want to you to be stuck with-" You suddenly reach over to grab at his tense hands, they relax and unlock together to ease into your touch as you turn your full attention on him.

"Your mother was nothing but kind to me and supportive of us even when some of your family didn't, she really loved that bunny so it's the least I can do." He looks away to the floor to Daisy, he feels bad not knowing she held his mother's affection that much... makes him feel worse he didn't talk to her more these last couple years yet you did enough to know... it stirs uneasy in his stomach but he sighs.

"...okay."

He still isn't sure how you two made it work but somehow the two of you made an acceptable living space for Daisy out of the only spare room in your apartment. She was house trained which - and he's a bit shamed to admit - he looked at you completely strangely like you grew an arm out of your head or something when you first told him that she could use a damn litter box, you know like a cat when she was definitely not a cat. But low and behold she used it without second thought, causing him to stand in the doorway in disbelief for a solid two minutes.

She had her pin with her nest and various perches and toys she would play and be content with and would excitedly hop on over every single time you'd open the gate and step in and happily eat out of your hand and eventually lay on your lap every time she would see you. She was like a damn cat.

With him? Not so much.

She'd run and hide every time he'd even step an inch inside the pin. You won her love with food so he tries feeding her in the rare instances she doesn't immediately flee but she eventually does and frantically escapes out of your arms when holding her.

He didn't get it. Was it because he was too big? That he seemed threatening? He tries to always move slow and not make too sudden of movements when around but it always ends up the same. She didn't do this at Mom's house, she would always stay clear of him and he made no effort to really engage with her but... maybe it's because she now knows she has to live with him. Live what she deemed as scary threat. It makes him feel bad. She was the last connection he had of his mom and here he is ruining it not on purpose.

Eventually, two months in, he gives up. Accepts it. He still feels horrible but he leaves you to tend to her, afraid of him even trying would just needless stress the poor thing out.

That is until a couple weeks later.

His last Commanding Officer had just retired and his Squadron had just been assigned a new one, in bed he's reading the record of this new Commander as he likes to do to get feel what to expect going forward. He liked his old Commander, old man considerate and down to earth with a good sense of justice and humanity, he really admired that about him and he likes working with people like that. This new Commander... not so much. The record showed the taste of a selfish spineless bastard that only wanted to get what every assignment done no matter the risk or cost. It put a certain taste in his mouth he's not looking forward to see first hand and its not like he can quit or be reassigned to other Squadron, he's worked with some of those men for years and the trust he has in them he can't just abandon. So he just has to grit his teeth and bare it until Commander Dipshit slips and the next assigned CO comes along.

His eyes feel tired, he sets down the tablet on his nightstand and looks over go see your still missing spot and is about to see if something was wrong to keep you away this long until right at that exact moment you come rushing into the bedroom with wide panic in your eyes.

"It's Daisy!"

She's bleeding with a wide gash in her side and her right foot twisted in a jagged unnatural direction as she lays in a towel on the kitchen table.

"I - I - I don't know how she got out! I looked at the window and - I got her as soon as I could - Flynn-"

He moves without thinking, battlefield experience kicking in as he rushing towards the bathroom medicine cabit to retrieve first aid. He tends to her without question and she lets him, the rabbit having to be in shock as she trembles on the bloody towel on the countertop. She's stitched with a bandage wrapped tight around her stomach and what remained of her foot. What could've possibly got her to snap bone like that? It didn't matter, all that did was him setting it and coming up together with the limited resources he had to make a makeshift cast.

Even with her being treated it was still rough, you couldn't call a vet this late at night so she had to fight through it. Neither of you slept, just watching over her. He was fully expectent she wouldn't survive the night and sat on the couch silently screaming at himself and apologizing to her mother over and over again.

But by miracle she pulled through.

The vet said she would be fine, even complimenting the stitchwork towards you - even when you tried correcting her but it didn't really seem to go through because how the hell would a 6'8 man be able to do such fine delicate work? Whatever. The more important thing was Daisy would be okay, she just needed time to heal.

Healing went a lot easier than expected, she though didn't really move around a lot and kept more to herself and when she did move she didn't really hop but more waddled from place to place. But she was calm, she still made her way over to you every time you visited - which now was more frequent than it already was - and would still play and eat out of your hand. But something did change.

She didn't flee when he was around.

While he did give up, he thought especially with her state he would check up on her every now and again, staying outside of the gate to the pin. She didn't run. It was very clear she knew he was there but she didn't run. That's some progress. You noticed it too and were practically over the moon glad but you both took the process slow, until eventually you convince him to sit with you in the pin. Like that day you convinced him to take her in, this time without the shitty lawn chairs... Daisy let you pet and feed her and she ignored him. Until she didn't.

Right in the middle when he was sharing with you feeling this is a lost cause when he tried feeding her a carrot to no success - she bit it. Taking him by surprise. He stares gawked until she keeps eating. More and more until not even a stub was left in his hand. She doesn't headbutt his hand like she does yours, just limbers away when she's done, he looks at that same hand confused. Well he couldn't give up now.

Everyday, even in the mornings right before he has to drive to Base, he'd spend time with her. Feed her out of his hand before he even had his own breakfast with you. She still didn't headbutt him, ate then went back to her own business like knocking her ball around carpet and then he'd still watch her. Every day until finally she did it.

It'd been weeks and finally her stomach bandage could be removed with her side healed when she did it. She headbutts so rough it'd send your hand back just a little bit but it's a sign of affection. He wasn't even thinking about it when she surprised him with it. He looks at her shocked afterwards, she just turned and goes to play with her ball, it's then when he finally got it. He understood.

What it meant to love a pet.

Slowly over time Daisy opened up to him more, showed him as much affection as she does for you - hell he can even pick her up and or she just follows him around on the apartment on her own. Speaking of, with each new assignment that requires a different locale means you have to move from apartment to apartment and state to state like before she entered the picture which she wasn't exactly a fan of at first but luckily each place you were able to find was accommodating for her to comfortably live in which seemed to also click for her to be able to move around as much willingly - it meant new scenery after all.

There hasn't been another incident last the last time and she doesn't attempt to ever go outside by herself again so she doesn't need to be strictly inside the pin where she can responsibly go around the house and hell even sleeps with you both in the bed. The past two years have really convinced him that this rabbit actually might be part cat.

Right now you're back in Texas, back in his childhood city actually, not that far from his childhood home which unfortunately has been sold with a new family moved in so he can visit anymore but he's come to long accept it. Things have been great. Until recently.

"MARS?!" You shout back at him in disbelief.

"It's only for six months until this punishment runs out when Commander War Criminal Shithead is out of his body cast and comes back from Pearl Harbor then I'll be reassigned to other Squadron. For now it's just desk duty and security for a research lab." Which he still hates - but hell not as much as this whole twisted joke of a situation at hand.

"Six months." You repeat, exhausted. Him being gone periods of time wasn't exactly the issue, he's military so it's expected, but usually on average it's for a couple of weeks - the longest being two months from a practically annoying assignment a couple years back - but six months was completely different. Half of an entire year. "It's a stupid question to ask but I can't come with you, can I?"

"...no. It's a private facility, not for the public so only granted personnel." It hurts to say but you look at him understandingly then back at the floor.

"Our anniversary is coming up."

"I know. But I couldn't just..."

"I know. And I'm glad you did."

It was left at that. You helped him pack then made love all night as he was ordered to leave the next morning.

Daisy loudly chews on the carrot stick in his hand as he pets her on the living room floor. No idea what was going on and just contently ate.

"Promise you're going to be good, okay? (Name) doesn't need anymore stress so no more three AM snack pleas." Her ear twitches which bring a dumb little smile on his face. He then eyes her foot, it's been two years so it's healed and no longer in the cast but it still had that unnatural shape to it - but she could walk on it just fine, still no longer able to properly hop as good as she once did but a little bit, she moved slower than most rabbits.

"I'll miss you two." He confesses. "But it's only six months. It'll be over before you both notice I'm gone."

But he knows it's not that simple. You've been more quiet all that morning. With one more petting goodbye he picks Daisy up and carries her to the other room with her pin and sets her down, she had plenty food and water to do her good until you came back home from dropping him off at the launch site. She stays by the gate, sitting on her hind legs to stand before him he gives her one last pat, her headbutting his palm.

"See you later."

You and him didn't have that long to say goodbye, his superiors already barking at him to get on the ship, you only had maybe one or two minutes at most. There was nothing either of you could really say that hasn't already been said, tough out the next six months and all of this will be like a bad dream. He'll be back to you and Daisy in no time. He promises that. To make up for the missed wedding anniversary he even says he'll take you to that fancy restaurant you like, even if it meant he has to squeeze into the suffocating suit that's three sizes too small on him because finding stuff for his height isn't the most easiest of tasks in the world - but for you it's worth it. He kisses you and promises. Only six months. He doesn't actually even voice the actual word goodbye itself because it isn't.

"Only six months. I love you."

When the space ship takes off out the small window he can see your figure in the crowd with the rest of the crews families, growing smaller and smaller until the ship itself was completely out of the atmosphere.

Only six months.

A very boring six months it seems as he sits there at the tiny desk in the even tinier office. It was practically more of a broom closet than a security room, it especially didn't help with his size being so tall he can't even put his knees under the desk and has to slouch over to watch over the camera feeds on the monitors that showed the various differences labs and facility buildings on Phobos. He had to slouch there and stare at screens. Screens that showed basically nothing but walking lab coats. For six months. And he's only on month two.

But he doesn't just look at screens, he sometimes reads the comic books he brought with him which he likes... but he's read all of them in the first week and rereading is fun but... not for six months. He also more importantly has pictures of both you and Daisy which he proudly has on his desk, two months he already misses the both of you to death, even imagines what you could be possibly doing a planet away while he's stuck here sitting in a chair seat too tiny for his ass.

Four months in is when something finally happens with the cameras - as in they stop working completely. It wasn't odd for them to flicker or flash as he's been use to it the last couple of months, chopped it down to something the labs were doing causing interference or something but they would never last that long. No, now they stopped working entirely, nothing but blue static. He reaches over to the call button to report but then... that's stopped working too. That never happeneds. He's rarely used it on his end but it's two-way, meaning he'd usually get calls signaled by the button itself flashing. Now he clicks it does nothing, no light. It wasn't a power outage because the office lights were still on.

He was currently located on a small base on the edge of the moon, a good distance away from the actual labs themselves. The base itself held Squadron of soliders he wasn't technically a part of, being on desk duty and all. After waiting a bit that maybe it'd get settled out like usual he gets the feeling in his gut to go on and get up about to go and see what the sudden trouble is but he's beat to the punch as the office door gets kicked down, armed solider in the doorway.

"Main Hall. Now."

The UAC facilities were being attacked. By who? No one would give him a straight answer. Oh and Deimos was gone, like actually literally gone like the damn other moon missing from the sky. He couldn't even imagine an explanation and more understood why no clear answer on that however because... how could you explain that? How does a whole damn moon just up and disappear?

He stands with a squad who gets their orders to secure each building because whatever attacked had them completely compromised. Everyone was ordered except him, he currently as his position as security clerk and off duty marine he wasn't granted. He was to stay put and communicate off planet if need be. It made him mad but he didn't argue, with whatever situation was at hand and he didn't want another six months away from home for disobeying direct orders. So he stands by and waits, hearing the constant gun fire from miles away as he sits on one of the spare vehicles kneading the wedding ring around his finger for comfort.

Eventually, gun fire stops and for a bit he thinks it's been solved but hours later when no one comes back to base is when the dread hits. He gets up and goes inside to base, in the control room where the outer planet coms are he fiddles with to his horror discovers they've also stopped working.

They had no help. They were isolated.

It's still eerily quiet, no sounds of struggle or war. No - no that couldn't be it. There has to be survivors, there had to. He feels at the pistol at his hip, it was the only weapon he had. But it had to do. He goes back to his small security office and retrieves the only things he wanted - pictures of you and Daisy to go in his wallet... just in case of the worst. He takes that spare vehicle and drives to the nearest building, he sees nothing too out of the ordinary until-

Tossed body parts. Body parts. Tons of them. Like a wild animal had gotten to them. Blood stained the dark dirt in massive splatters. He gets out of the vehicle with his gun drawn and takes a careful step closer to the lab building, nearly jumps when something grabs his ankle. Horror sets in.

"De... de..." It was the same solider that came to his office, torn in half from the waist down with his lower half haphazardly thrown off to the side several feet away from his upper. The man on the ground points to the building. "...demons..."

Demons?

Before he can question it the solider succumbs to death. He takes silent moment to mourn the loss but turns to look over his shoulder.

What the hell was in that building?

It was Hell. Actual Hell. One building to the next to the next where he fought for his life against the mentioned demons and it only got worse and worse the longer it went on. Oh and he found Deimos, which was in actual literal Hell! How'd it get there? How all of this got here? These damn scientists he's been reprimanded to watch over were performing actual experiments revolving something with teleporting and it somehow opened portals to Hell and the whole moon got pull through and demons came out. Of course. He stopped questioning it hours ago for his own sanity. Speaking of he didn't know if it was actually hours, it felt like days and he hasn't gotten to rest once now navigating these strange labyrinthine Hellscapes. His body couldn't afford to be tired. He was hungry, his stomach that was currently exposed thanks to the rip now in his armor growled but he couldn't do anything about it. Just keep moving.

He fought and he fought and fought. Killing demons and what use to be acquaintances, fellow soliders that were somehow turned into these mindless... zombie things. Honoring their sakes he puts them down too. Until finally he killed what he believed to be the creature behind this whole mess, ugly and arachnid in nature and shot fucking lasers at him. But it was dead now. And in the center of the arena looked to be a portal... portal that looked like earth on the other side. It put more fear in him than this entire experience had brought him.

And that fear was more than warranted.

Demons attacked worldwide. Nothing could stop them. He managed to get in contact with a UAC base that shared with him this information, along with the even worse news. There were evacuees only a couple dozen thousands - out of the world's entire population - but that was it. Everyone else was hit in the mass extinction event. Hearing that he could only think one thing.

He had to get home.

He was miles away, no working vehicle, he raced there - faster than he ever had in his life and shooting every demonic creature with his shotgun that entered his sight but he did not stop moving. He hoped - prayed - you had managed to be one of the couple thousand evacuees that managed to get out. His wedding ring heavy on his finger inside his glove, he could feel the metal on him as a reminder each time he shot his gun as blood splattered on his face and he left a trail of corpses behind him as he had only one goal.

Get home.

The city was in reach, your apartment together not that far off. He kept running, running and shooting, every single memory he had with you repeating and flashing in his head.

Until his trips on something. He stops. He could've kept running his way home but something made him stop and look at the ground at what it was.

A detached, unnaturally bent, rabbit's foot.

Not that far from it, strung apart pieces of a mangled body.

That far from that, a pike.

Daisy's head sat on that pike.

He reaches out and places his hand on the head, a stir of denial in him expecting her to headbutt his palm like she usually does. But nothing. She is a cold lifeless corpse. A cruel death. He removes her head from the pike and hold it close to him.

"I'm so sorry. You're with my mom now."

He buries her, the best he can but takes her foot with him, he isn't sure why but he keeps it close in his pocket. A reminder he supposed. Not for luck like the tales say but a reminder.

He walks slowly down the block, his footsteps heavy with each step, he sees the apartment in the distance. His boots crunch on cheap wood of the porch as he makes his way up, he held tight on the railing as he marched if only to keep his sanity as he stared wide eyed at the remains front door - completely broken in half and the screen door completely gone as it's been tossed in the yard. The windows of the apartment were also shattered. Everything he saw already told him the truth but he denies it with each step he takes. Somehow he had hope. He had to. Somehow. Even if only threadbare.

But that thread snaps the moment he steps in the doorway of the destroyed living room. Blood painted the walls.

He found you.

He walks dead on his feet, on autopilot as he kills everything that lands in his line of sight the mere instance he sees it. After all he's alone. Hell on earth and he's determined to make every single of these sick evil bastards regret even being created. Pain. Misery. It's all they cause. He didn't need sleep. He can sleep when he's dead. He's injured, beat up to hell but he couldn't be bothered to give a damn anymore. Kill. Kill. Kill. Make them pay.

Anger. Such deep anger is what keeps him breathing. He's on a pile of corpses as hoards lunge at him, one even grabbing his arm but pure unadulterated anger keeps him alive. Every single one. He had to see the death of every single one. If he runs out of bullets fuck it he might even start trying to rip them apart with his bare hands.

He hates them. Hates them more than he thinks he's ever hated anything in his entire life. Every single one of them has to die. They slaughtered his family. Killed everyone. Millions upon millions of people. Every single of these despicable vile creatures deserve worse than what he's giving them. He spits blood back in their faces and grabs an imp by the back of the head and crams it's jaw open with the barrel of his shotgun down it's throat and watches it's head explode in his hands, bathing himself in further blood. And it still wasn't enough. He could kill them in worse and worse ways and it still wouldn't make up for how he felt. More and more needed to die.

But they were survivors, now fully evacuated into space thanks to his help but they needed a planet to come back home to. And as sole human on earth he's completely willing to do that pest control and to mention kill and stop whatever the source is that directly tying Earth to Hell, closing whatever gate, kill whatever gatekeeper. And he does so with now trusty rocket launcher in hand.

Earth is now saved, the connection severed and the demons eventually dying out from either his bullets or from being entirely cut off from whatever Hellic engery he guessed. Humanity could return and rebuild.

But at what cost?

He was glad, not get him wrong, glad that at least some people were saved but... out of the entire human population there was before now only a couple thousand handful remained. And you weren't one of them. No one he really knew were ones of them. He was now entirely alone.

All he had in the midst of the crowds of survivors returned back to demon free Earth crying in each other's arms was a rabbit's foot, his and your wedding rings, and memories. That's it.

He had no where else to go, it's not like he every wants to enter that apartment ever again but even if he did the UAC doesn't let him. Which he sort of understands, he was a one man army that did save the human race so maybe it's reasonable for him to be placed on a base just in case... things... arise again. Hell could easily come back any day now and it's gotten a good taste of Earth's blood. But still he hates it. Being in another one of these bases makes him sick and makes him see vivid images of the horrors in his mind. But he doesn't fight it. There'd be no point. Where else is he going to go? What? Is he just supposed to forget?

His assumptions are right; they do want him to handle demonic situations when they come up - they're small cases normally, usually due to some kind of scientists meddling (it's always some damn scientist) which enrages him beyond belief but he goes along with it, acting as clean up exterminator when shit goes wrong, because even with how mad he gets that these dumbasses who have seen and survived first hand the initial invasion still want to poke their dumbass noses into Hell his feelings are nowhere near comparable to that anger he hasn't stopped feeling since that day. If it meant he can kill more demons he'll do it no matter the reason. That anger keeping him going the next five years.

He hadn't noticed it or really cared to until it's pointed out to him that he's started talking less, or when he does it's more cold and rougher than it was prior. He keeps more to himself than he did in his life before. He wasn't the most social of guy back then definitely awkward he never really knew what to say in various given situations and being much taller than majority of most people where everyone had to crank their head up to even look at him didn't really help with that but it was you who encouraged him to get out and relax a little, get out of his shell, talk and chill with people, friends. Without you he didn't have that. Without you he saw no point in trying that anymore. The anger still hasn't went away, he doesn't think it ever will. His mother would be disappointed, believing such hatred brings down a person but... his whole life was ruined.

In bed at night he stares up at the ceiling and thinks for hours, countless of possibilities, things he could've changed, done differently, anything he could've done to change it. He doesn't regret beating up Commander Shithead - who is still alive and survived the demonic invasion by the way in such twisted luck - he saved those people he was ordered to kill, innocent civilians that just happened to be in the way at a wrong time... and he doesn't even know if they survived the invasion. For all he knows they could've ended up dead either way, and if he wasn't discharged on Mars he would've been home to protect you and Daisy. Or he thinks maybe if he noticed the teleportation experiments sooner - stop them before any portal to Hell could've opened, not be childish and bored lazily barely looking at the screens and maybe noticed something that could've prevented this whole damn mess! Prevented the deaths of millions!

He still sees you. The first time he saw you and gathered the courage to talk to you, the first time you kissed, taking you to meet his parents, your wedding, taking Daisy home, your shredded corpse that was in too many pieces for him to be able to bury he could only retrieve your ring. Over and over every time he closes his eyes it's all he sees and Daisy's head on that damn pike. It's the source of the anger.

'Super-Hell-PTSD™' is what he diagnosed with, or well in more professional terms but it's what he's ended up calling it. No cure. It's fine. Nothing he can do about it but keep fighting like he always has.

He keeps his wedding ring on his finger even still in combat slaughtering demons, underneath his glove like be always has, yours is on his dogtag inside his armored uniform close to his heart. He's reminded of it every time he moves, as he fights, as a reminder just like the rabbit's foot in his back pocket. He never wants to forget. He will never forget.

After five years he's finally back on Mars, a demonic invasion he's been sent to take care of as always - sick and twisted joke the decided to invade from here of all places, like they did on purpose. But the more he thought of it... killing demons he's already killed that have been revived somehow but more powerful... whatever mastermind behind it this time was doing it on purpose to goad him, knowing he's the only one Earth can send. That's fine. He'll give them exactly what they want and personally put a bullet in its head. As a clear message.

Try him.

It's the same song and dance as always. It has been for past five years since the initial crisis and he's been sent to clean up the pieces yet again. It's once he's back in Hell that maybe for the first time in a long time his mind is clear, Mother of all demons or whatever she had claimed herself dead at his feet.

It's never going to change, is it? Things will never be like they were before. He'll never be who he was before, Flynn died five years ago only an empty husk of vengeance was left in his place. There was no point in going back. He belonged here now. If he stayed here he could keep the rot in from the inside, keep the remainder of humanity he had bought so hard for safe. He'll miss it, his thoughts had been clouded and occupied by nothing but the anger he felt but he did love and appreciate earth, he so glad he managed to safe it and all the wonderful things and people on it. And if he had to sacrifice himself in order to keep that safety? To keep from having more people experience what he went through? So be it.

Thousands of years he fights, either some sort of time dilation or Hell magic keeps him alive and even makes him survive things he shouldn't but maybe it is that anger that's become more than second nature to him that keeps him breathing out of spite. He didn't need sleep. He didn't need food. He needed to fight. He's much stronger than he was back then - hell that might be the complete understatement of millenia - he's long ran out of ammo that he has to either makeshift his own or rip and tear apart demons with his bare hands, or crush their skulls in his fist. He's scouted practically every inch and different realms of Hell but the demon supply never runs dry and a good portion of them now run when they see him. He was their apex predator.

But in all of this he still hasn't forgotten. He hasn't went entirely insane or lost his motive of reason to fight in all of the unfathomable amount of time. His old marine armor is ancient and tattered and rusted at this point but he still has only important belongings to him; in his back pocket was his wallet with two important photos and a bent rabbit's foot. On his finger embedded in his skin was one ring. Rusted chain around his neck with a name he no longer uses but held onto the other ring. He hasn't forgotten you and Daisy once. He thinks about you two and the life you once had every uncountable day.

Even when he's eventually found one random day and captured in a world or universe that very clearly isn't the one he had originally left, taken in, imprisoned and made a weapon walking wake of destruction under their control to continue fighting the forces of Hell. The Night Sentinels do try to take his momentos away but they learn very quick to regret even trying. They can cage and even mind control him but they will never part them from him how deeply important they were to him, how rooted they were to him. The last remnants of his old life. Why he continues to stand and fight.

He will never forget.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Lessons From a Social Media Break

I know I told y’all I would be making this post about a million years ago, but life got in the way (as it so often does). I wanted to explain why I’ve been mostly absent for the last seven months.

[And before you even ask, NO, I am not pregnant. I actually had an endometrial ablation in March 2024 that eradicated my periods and was the best decision I ever made in my life (apart from meeting my Wifey).]

Putting this under a cut because it got a bit long.

Now, I don’t know how the rest of you may handle your Neurodivergence / AuDHD / Bipolar / Depression / Anxiety, but when I’m overwhelmed with all of these things at the same time, I tend to shut down. So, around October 2024, I hit a wall, and I shut down slightly. And then in November, the voters of America let me down and chose to elect a brainless, fascist, racist, transphobic felon and sexual predator as their leader.

I really started to give up hope around this time and stopped being social almost completely. That included online and real-life scenarios. At this time, I deleted my Facebook, my Twitter, and my Instagram. I spent most of my time playing video games (Skyrim, The Witcher, Minecraft, The Sims 4) and being in a world of my own creation.

Spending most of my time playing and learning how to create CC for The Sims 4 [where I am currently working on making Sims based on a fic by @blackwood4stucky because as soon as I heard/read the synopsis, I knew I must have the characters to play with 🔥], and working on my mental health.

Also, I owe a debt of gratitude to @peyton-warren for being one of the best friends I have ever had. I love you, babygirl! Thank you for letting me vent, whine, fall apart, and bounce ideas off of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I also started Zepbound (tirzepatide) and have lost over 30 lbs. I'm letting my hair grow out, and my trichotillomania (compulsive hair-pulling) has been under control for some time now. I have made great strides in therapy, and even though some days are hard, I still strive to make the best of what life hands me (lemons, etc).

With that said, I miss writing. It's such a very important piece of my life. I've been writing stories for over 30 years, and I refuse to just lose that passion. I hope to update my stories soon. Including The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Daddy Knows Best, the Sweet Redemption saga [it has its own masterlist now!], and finishing my 1K follower event Sweet Treats, and other WIPs that are begging for attention.

I also miss my Tumblr and all the friends I have met along the way. Y’all don't even understand the complexity of what a safe space Tumblr is for me (for the most part). I can be myself without worry of being called weird or whatever. I mean, I am weird, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, this post is fucking long as shit so I'm gonna shut the fuck up and go reply to my notifications.

Thanks for coming to my Elle™️ Talk!