#as always your asks are a delight to read and answer :]

[gowerhardcastle]

A very interesting, at least in my opinion, has crossed my mind. For all that I’ve ever written, there has always been some underlying theme, or rather a point, or even multiple points, that I’ve wished for readers to get from my works. And so I was wondering, in all of your works, have they all been created that way as well? Do your stories have those underlying points, and also, do you think that stories can be created without some hidden meaning behind them? Some message, that authors wanted to portray in an artistic way?

I had to think about this one for quite a while.

My first impulse was to just say, "No, nothing in particular. I just want to write a funny story."

But then I thought a little more, and here is the actual answer.

Some of you probably know that I'm an English Professor and have been for quite a while. My whole life has been about the written word--about cultivating it, showing its value, teaching about it, and trying to create beautiful prose.

If my games are about anything, they are about how much I love language. I know my games are not for everyone: when I read articles about how the typical university student has trouble getting through thirty pages of literature in a *week* whereas it used to be more the norm to assign 100+ pages, that tracks with my experience as a professor. And I know that a game like mine, which is very, very long, has a very mannered writing style, has a highly literary sensibility, and asks a lot of time from the reader is never going to be a breakthrough hit the way some games are.

I'm okay with that, because I'm writing the kind of game that I love, and it's meant to appeal to people for whom reading millions and millions of words is not an intimidating thing, but a treat.

As a professor who also teaches first-year writing, and, alas, some online classes, I am also deeply, deeply in the trenches dealing with AI writing, and it makes me very sad for people who are depriving themselves of (what I think of) as one of the most beautiful and human things you can do, which is to write. I don't want to make it more of a thing than it is, but when I feel feelings like this, writing my game is the thing I can reliably turn to as the antidote.

The slow process of creation (I've been at this sequel now for five years) and a lot of attention to detail and to the beauty of the writing is how I resist. The essential innocence and joy of the world, delight in language, and the laughter it inspires is my small resistance to things.

When I sit down to write, practically every time, I hope that someone will read it and laugh. Whether that's a hidden meaning or an artistic theme, I doubt, but that's what I hope for.

If you would like to play a very long demo of most of the first two chapters, read stories, short essays on game design, and read various rambles on interactive fiction, and in the process, fight the system (?), why not visit The Noble Gases Club?

Here, you can find stuff like a discussion of frame narrative, a sample of a character design of Juniper, and a discussion of my "straight shot" approach to the current chapter I'm working on. All free (for free members)!

It's highly literary 1930s England, in a P.G. Wodehouse inspired world where all shall be well.

[somnambuletta]

third in the bed of saints (mdni 🔞)

the bible was never a book to you. it was body.

a mouth. a voice that sang even when the caverns of your mind flooded, and the world went dark.

you used to read it out loud when you couldn’t sleep—when the dreams were bad and the bones of your life rattled in the closet. its pages smelled like the attic of your childhood home: mothdust, cedarwood, old polish that lifted itself from the floorboards and stained your knees with chestnut. when the world grew too loud, you let the psalms speak for you. when you knelt, it was not for penance but for touch—to feel something gentle hold you in place.

even now, you sleep with the cross around your neck, chain tucked into the hollow of your collarbone like a secret. you don’t always believe in it. but it’s always believed in you.

hoodie noticed it the first night he watched you undress.

that was the same night he asked the question—

"what the fuck do you need god for, when 'm 'ere?"

you had no answer. not at the time. and certainly not now, when he’s above you, inside you, tearing the breath from your lungs one thrust at a time.

﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊

the mask stays on, always. that sharp amber stare doesn’t blink once as he fucks you into the mattress, hard and unrelenting, like your body is the last thing in the world that can keep him tethered. and maybe it is. maybe that's why hoodie is so mean with it.

you cling to him, whining, gasping his name between bitten lips. sweat runs down your spine. your legs tremble with the effort to keep him close.

he notices everything. especially the way your cross swings with each thrust, catching against your skin.

his hand shoots out and rips it from your neck. the chain snaps with a sound too loud for such a small thing. hoodie holds it up, dangling it just above your face, still buried deep inside you.

“tha’s what you needed?” he scoffs. “this fuckin' thing?”

his hips slam forward, making your breath stutter. the cross swings. it glints like mockery in the low light of your room.

“ya' really think he’s watchin'?” his voice is molten and low, a cruel whisper against your ear. “you think he wants to see what i do to ya, swee'art?”

“n-no—” you try to turn your head, but he grabs your chin and forces your gaze back up. makes you look at it.

at him.

“you let me inside you. ya' pray when you moan.” a wicked smile beneath the mask. “you tell me, darlin'—does that make me god?”

a sob bubbles up from your throat, more breath than voice. your hands claw into his arms. hoodie doesn't stop.

“‘your body 's a temple,’ right?” hoodie jeers, voice thick with dark delight. “well. ’m burnin' it to the fuckin' ground.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. “please—”

“please? that your prayer, sweets?”

he presses the cross to your lips like communion, lets it clink against your teeth as his hips hammer into you. it tastes like sweat. like ruin. like everything sacred, turned sour.

“go 'head. recite somethin' for me,” he whispers. “give me a fuckin' verse. go on. le’s see if the good book can save ya' now.”

you choke on a hic. but the words come anyway—half-breathed, half-begged:

“yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

hoodie groans, his rhythm shattering for a moment, sliding a hand up your neck for stability.

you whisper the rest into the cold metal. “i will fear no evil—”

“you should.”

the hand at your throat tightens, not enough to hurt—but enough to remind. his breath shudders as he fucks you to peak, like he’s trying to mark you from the inside out.

“you think he’s gonna save you from me?” he pants. “you think he’d want to? look at ya'.. look what you let me do.”

your thighs quake. your body breaks under the weight of him, but there’s no hiding the slick heat between your legs, the desperate way your hips buck up to meet him. it’s not mercy you’re crying for—it’s more.

“ya' don’t need him,” hoodie scolds. “you don’t need anythin' but this.”

“but me.”

[crescentfool]

Hello! Apologies for how long this is going to be but your favourite character post has now made me even more feral for Minato Arisato.

That’s because YES he is so chronically ill coded and he totally thinks he’s just a tool for others. And yes despite being a really blunt and mean person, he is so so kind. The only thing is I swear there are more examples of this in game that I feel like I’m missing.

To try and give my own findings first, in Reload Minato is already completely exhausted by 4/9 and just falls asleep immediately and his doctor appointment takes way longer than anyone else in the dorms. There’s also the fact he’s the only one to lean back and take up energy when using therugy.

As for basically being and letting himself become a tool for others, I think the lyrics of Full moon full life help set that up but I swear there are more on how Minato is dehumanized by the world and then chooses to dehumanize himself.

And some of his dialogue choices are so mean, but then Orpheus also knows dia and Fuuka sets up the idea persona healing means your kind. Which makes me feel very ill.

Basically what I’m trying to ask is how you came to your conclusions of Minato’s character which are extremely similar to mine because I just love reading more in depth analysis of him that goes beyond “I don’t care”

Take your time replying and yeah sorry for this being so long and random. I just love talking about the game meta surrounding Minato. Hope you have a nice day.

hi! thank you so much for reaching out, it's always a delight to talk about minato arisato on the internet and i'm happy my brief little description in my favorite characters art post resonated with you 💙

to answer your question about how i came to my conclusions, a lot of my reading for minato's character is primarily informed by two things:

the game mechanics of FES! it's the version of p3 i played first! a lot of his personality is baked into the mechanics... which is unfortunately not as present in reload due to the changes they made. (its ok thats why i like to talk about it.)

his very unique and special relationship with ryoji mochizuki (death) and how the events at the moonlight bridge 10 years before the game irreversibly changed the trajectory of his life

regarding his chronic illness and tiredness: yes! minato needing a lot of time to rest after awakening his persona + thanatos literally ripping apart orpheus is a great detail and alludes to his chronic illness very nicely.

the way i see it, death is like... a parasite, to minato. the extent of death's abilities, even in an incomplete state, was too great for aigis to handle. so having death sealed in minato really wears on his life, you know? which is why i read him as chronically ill and tired.

FES further supports this with the tiredness mechanic... both in terms of minato himself, and SEES. which brings me to my next point...

he sees himself as a tool. in FES, when your other party members are tired, they will call it quits once you go back to the starting floor. however, minato being the leader/player character... he will continue to persist, even when he's tired and/or sick.

this means that he's working doubly as hard compared to everyone else... he takes his responsibilities as a leader seriously, but disregards his own needs because he gets to be useful to someone. he literally doesn't have to work his ass off in tartarus (WHICH is so unfair sometimes in FES) but he DOES!!!

and on his dialogue choices... yeah. his dialogue choices aren't exactly what we'd describe as "nice" and "pleasant" in the way someone would describe fuuka as being outwardly caring and kind. but his kindness shines through his actions!!! orpheus knowing dia in reload makes me smile bigtime :')

to expand on his kindness... minato has had. so much shit happen to him. death who has taken so much away from him. it would have been so easy for him to just... not care... but him being PRESENT and doing what he does in game... i think that speaks volumes!!! (also just. just look at ryoji. ryoji is minato's mirror image, and he would not be as kind as he is if minato didn't imprint on him in that way.)

the imagery and story associated with minato's ultimate persona, messiah is also... pretty telling, i think, about his kindness and desire to save others. p3 really knocked it out of the park for this, i think!

further reading

if you'd like to read more character analysis on minato i'd like to point to a few posts...

why i love ryomina (2023) a love letter to my favorite ship.

discussing reload vs FES' mechanics (2024) keeping the party equally leveled, tiredness, etc.

and i want to do a big shoutout to my friend luca (@/mymp3) who has written so many wonderful and thoughtful pieces about minato. he's seriously great at this kind of thing, here's some of my favorite posts of his:

ryoji embodying "human" characteristics in a way more human than minato (2023)

aigis and minato are like escalators (2023)

minato is literally jesus (2023) (read the tags on this one its so good)

luca's reaction to december 31st and how he processed the themes (2022)

i hope these help you understand where i'm coming from with his characterization! minato continues to be a very poignant and relevant character to me and i'm happy that you think we have similar conclusions :)

[moeblob]

Right and his work menaces (Brent and Karen).

I don't remember last I mentioned it but apart from crude nicknames to people (except Chris), he also just puts them in his phone really weird (except Chris, who is literally in his phone as Chris). And I bring this up because in Right's phone, Karen is saved as "Lawful Obligation".

[calmlb]

Hi Essie!!! Hope you're doing well! (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)❤️

So I had this idea for a sick!Dazai fic (that I'm honestly too tired to write dhehee), and who else is better to brainstorm it with than my fellow Dazai whump enthusiast? :D

Based on my own experience of being sick for the past week, I forgot how awful it can get. It sucks. You're feverish, your nose is either runny or super blocked, your throat hurts, you get headaches, you're lethargic 80% of the time, all that stuff. But what sucked the most for me was how hot my skin felt. Like, clothes were so uncomfortable to wear from the sweat, especially since it's still summer around here.

So imagine putting bandages into account as well?

Yep, awful.

So I present you with a scenario: Teen!Dazai in his office, has taken over paper duty (that Mori knows he isn't gonna complete anyway) because of his fever. He feels gross, to say the least. Flushed and hazy, a little nauseous and sleepy. But his skin- his skin is scorching, and there is no way for it to disperse that heat because it can't breathe. He endures it for as long as he can until he just can't.

In his haze, he scrambles to tear his bandages off, loosen his tie, and decides that he will lie on the cold floor shirtless. The air conditioner isn't enough. No one is there to stop him.

Until Chuuya barges in without knocking as usual (to discus the paperwork he also knows Dazai isn't going to finish) and stumbles onto the scene.

Dazai doesn't even acknowledge him, has already taken off the bandages around his eye and is halfway through tearing off the ones around his neck. His clothes are disheveled as he loosens them and looks like he's about to take them off.

Chuuya gapes for a solid second, before exclaiming with a blush-

"What the fuck?!"

He rushes over, trying not to look at Dazai's skin that's on display and stops him. He wraps him with Mori's oversized coat aggressively.

Dazai fights against him, exclaiming that he needs to lie on the floor. Chuuya doesn't get it, all that he knows is that Dazai is delirious, and even if he thinks it's a good idea to tear through his protective layer now, he'll definitely regret it later.

So Chuuya ties him with the coat and decides to take the paperwork to his place, along with a flailing Dazai on his shoulder.

I just wanna see Dazai giving Chuuya hell during treating him 😭 cuz even if cooling off is a good idea for a fever, not staying huddled in the warmth equates to chills and endless sneezes. Makes you feel even more awful. So it's gonna be a push and pull of Chuuya trying to warm Dazai up (in order to fight off the fever faster), and Dazai wanting to cool off (because he isn't used to being this warm and hates it), until they come up with a compromise somehow dgdhejndjd

Yeah, just a fun idea! :3 Feel free to expand on it hehe

PEA 😭 i saw this when i was having a Very Bad Day™️ & it immediately made it sm better tysm 🥺🩷🩷

UGH THE TENDER, FEVERISH SKIN UNDER THE BANDAGES ❤️‍🩹 where everything just feels like too much, i completely understand why Dazai (in his feverish delusion) would think removing the offending material would be the solution

Chuuya barging in and quickly going from 👁️👄👁️ to 😳🤬. i love that he goes into protective mode, thinking of how future Dazai will surely regret this course of action & putting measures in place to prevent that 🥺

Chuuya would wrap Dazai up like a sushi roll & carry him on his shoulder like a log back to his apartment, where he proceeds to lose the idgaf war & embrace his mother hen side (which he still denies exists)

meanwhile Dazai is kicking & fighting him every step of the way, acting more like a 5 year old than a mafia sub executive (he’s still only a kid sobs), even as he shivers with chills

until Chuuya manages to get a hand in his sweat soaked curls, gently carding through them. the coolness of his leather glove against Dazai’s overheated scalp makes Dazai go still… and then slump against the couch in a mixture of relief & exhaustion. Chuuya takes advantage of his compliance to make him agree to stop fighting him, & they spend the rest of the day resting on the couch, watching movies & playing video games (well. Chuuya plays. Dazai watches & points out all of Chuuya’s mistakes) 🩷🩷🩷

[toktic]

💖 I love you, mun! // MWAHHH. OKAY THAT'S ALL-

did you know you have been a reason why my return to tumblr has been so pleasant. i'm gonna be cringe here for a moment cause you're so kind to me.

[deerabigailhobbs]

Hi!!!!!! It's me, back with more Adamgail-siblings!!!!!!!!!

So, in the version of events where Adam gets Abigail back with him in Saw-city (or wherever saw takes place I don't think it's ever confirmed) for them to try and live somewhat normally, would Hannibal figure out a series of events to follow them?

I don't think persuading Will would be difficult, all he would have to say is 'there's a messed up serial killer killing people, don't you think that's a dangerous place for Abigail to be?' and Will would probably think yeah that's bad and then he and Hannibal would try and convince Jack to let them go and solve the Jigsaw killings.

Jack would probably want to solve the jigsaw killings and this could also help him maybe get more opportunities to find out if Abigail did help Hobbs kill those girls. He'd probably get worried about leaving Bella behind though. Alana would probably go to make sure Jack doesn't try anything related to Abigail even though it isn't her job. (I just like her and want her there). And Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian would go because it's their job.

Do they read up on what happened and learn Abigail's older brother is a victim of Jigsaw beforehand? Or do they get there and be like 'yeah lets go speak to all survivors' and then start freaking out when Adam walks through the door?

And when they get to the station, they're going to get bad vibes from about half of the detectives there, due to the whole 'most of the department is corrupt' thing.

Then because of story purposes, most of them would get put in a trap.

Will is probably there because he's 'reluctant to use his gifts to help others' or something. Jack is there because he's to focused on work and not on other people's feelings. Hannibal ????????? Bumped into Hoffman and didn't say sorry????????? Everyone else is probably fine.

And, uh, yeah! I had more thoughts but I've forgotten them.

Hope you're doing well!

Hello friend! I hope you're doing well too!

First of all, so real of you to want Alana to be there because you like her, I'm the same haha.

The interactions between all the Saw and Hannibal characters would be so cool!! Particularly Hannibal and John's. They're both artists in their own way, Hannibal more classical, while John more industrial (if that makes sense?). Hannibal views most humans below him while John thinks everyone can be redeemed if they value their life enough, would those ideas clash? Would they hate or respect each other's work? I can definitely imagine John putting Hannibal in a trap, purely out of a personal interest because Hannibal isn't like any other man he's come across. Maybe to show him that he's just like everyone else deep down, no matter what he thinks. If you cut hard enough you'll bleed, if you cut deep enough, you die. Hannibal isn't an exception. You can't take a human life for your own personal gain (of course, this is coming from the mind of John Kramer so his ideology is all over the place and hypocritical).

Hannibal would probably find out who Adam was through family records, find out about his test, and assume Abigail has gone to him. He'll tell Will they're going to New Jersey (which is where Saw takes places apparently, but icl Saw-City is so much funnier haha!) and, well, off they go. They'll find Adam at a survivor meeting, where he's adamant that he hasn't seen his sister in years, knowing that she's currently hiding away at his house, that other agents and detectives from out of state have asked about her whereabouts, and Adam has to take caution in getting home, knowing anyone of these people could be following him.

Adam would probably feel bad about keeping Abigail hidden, wondering if he's turning into his father, concealing her from the rest of the world, but he tries not to look too deep into that. And having Abigail insist that he's not, that she's thankful, that she missed him and hugs him like it'll be their last embrace, takes the weight of his shoulders.

Now, if we want to get really angsty, what if Adam were an apprentice? What if he also took part, not in killing people, but finding out their locations... Maybe being friendly with them so he can find out where they live... Doing it not necessarily because he believes in Jigsaw's methods, but because the man he loves does, and he doesn't want to lose that affection so he goes along with it... Seem familiar?

And oh, the absolute guilt that would wreck him. Finally having Abigail back, knowing that where she is now isn't any better. That he's putting her in danger again, surrounded by more crazy people, and suddenly he can't stop seeing his father's face when he looks in the mirror. All he wants is to shield her from pain but it's near impossible, it's like tragedy simply follows her wherever she goes and Adam can't do anything about it. Besides, well, killing her. And he can't do that. He thinks.

Semi related but I think Hoffman and Will would absolutely DESPISE each other, he would put Will in a trap for breathing too loudly lol. I'm not sure why I think this but I do. Suddenly Bedelia is number 2 on Will's hit list lol

[stardust-and-fries]

Oh boy!! A chance for me to yap about gender at length?!?!!?!? DON'T MIND IF I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [See tags for details. But be warned... I Popped the Fuck OFF writing this one, it's a doozy!]

Sorry if this is rude, but how do you identify? I looked around a bit and couldn't find anything, my apologies

Not rude! Honestly, I don't know these days! Lots of thoughts swirling around in my head. Maybe this is too much, but also maybe saying something instead of keeping it inside will be helpful... I'll put my gender thoughts under the cut... maybe someone can relate and offer some thoughts lol:

Recently, I came to the conclusion that I'm really not attracted to men at all, and maybe, I never have been. Looking back, I can kind of clearly see that any crush on a guy I thought I had was more like "wow, this person is COOL as HELL. I hope we can be really good friends." And then I noticed, that any crush I had on a girl felt... different. The feeling was totally different, and it still is. Have you noticed how most of the men I draw are quite feminine? I also have no idea what's going on with my gender. I know I'm me, a Yugo, I also can't comfortably say what exactly I am. Though by technicality, I am nonbinary, the word doesn't feel QUITE right to use for me. Maybe genderqueer is better. I've never identified as a man, but I have identified as transmasc and taken T. I really do like the results I've gotten from that. But at the same time, I don't really feel close to "manhood" at all, but something about having a mustache sometimes, like I tend to do, feels right to me still. I also like to wear lipstick and stuff. I don't know. I'm also not a "woman" I don't think, but I identify with more... I don't know, masculine expressions of womanhood if that makes sense? I am very androgynous in expression, in short. So basically I don't know what the hell is going on. All I know is I love women LOL. Can anyone relate to any of this? Any ideas?? I will not be offended by any assumptions you might have lol. Maybe I should just make a comic about this.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[guppiechuu]

baby, baby, baby ──── PART TWO ✦

always and forever, l.h. ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ part 2 of baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ (read here.)

exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader

length: 13.7k

contains: angst, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, protective heeseung, protective ot7, abandonment issues, co-parenting, heeseung genuinely throws hands, enha has your back, group confrontation, happy ending

warnings: toxic ex-relationship, threats/intimidation, light violence (pushing and grabbing), fighting, implied trauma, toxic parent dynamic, slut-shaming, your ex is the acc worst

synopsis: you and heeseung finally have things figured out and, yes, it's everything you hoped it would be. but things get complicated when your ex-boyfriend (and the father of your child) appears at your home, demanding you make space for him in your daughter's life.

with a threat against heeseung and an unfortunate miscommunication, the trust he's been working so hard to build with you is put to the final test.

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ wowwowoww this took SUCH a long time but i was not done with y/n and heeseung. genuinely the most dramatic and indulgent angst i have ever written but, what can i say? i'm a sucker for a man who's willing to defend what's his.

——

“Heeseung!” You called, cursing lightly as Hana wriggled out of your grasp and tore off towards the car.

Heeseung looked up, eyes locking onto the small child barreling towards him as he closed the trunk of your car. His feet were covered in sand, hair sticking up, the dark strands stiff with sea water.

Your daughter looked the same—sandy, saltwatered, and windswept as she attempted to dodge him, her hands outstretched towards the fading light of the beach.

Heeseung caught her with an arm around the waist and hoisted her, kicking legs and all, to his chest.

“Come on, supergirl,” He said, using a free hand to brush the sand off her feet. “Time to go home.”

“No!”

Her new favorite word. 

“No?” He said, bringing her around to the backseat. “You don’t want to go home and eat all this candy we got?”

“No!”

“No, you don’t want to put on your new pjs that Uncle Jay bought you?”

“No!”

He hummed while he wrestled her into her car seat, strapping her in with practiced ease. “No, you don’t want to get mommy all wet while she gives you your bath?”

“No!!”

He grinned. “I see. Guess I’ll have to take care of that one, then.”

You slapped him on the shoulder. "You're gross."

Hana laughed at that, mimicking you with a few light slaps to his hands.

"What do you think, baby, am I gross?" He asked, brushing her wet hair back from her forehead.

She rammed her little fists into his arm, squealing in delight. "No!"

"That's what I thought," He said, closing her door and climbing into the front seat.

There was a time when Heeseung thought co-parenting would be a challenge—that the demands of caring for a toddler might strain your relationship, make things overly complicated. Tense. The way they had been between you and your ex.

He used to lie awake in his room, eyes heavy, chest tight with the fear that he’d mess it all up. That he didn’t have what it took, and that he’d hurt you worse than he ever had before.

But—like most things about the two of you—he’d been wrong.

You and Heeseung had slipped into a rhythm so tender, so natural, it was hard to believe there’d ever been a time without it. 

He still lived at the dorm with the other guys, but he spent most nights at your house. During the day, he attended recording sessions and rehearsals, filmed content, and planned for upcoming tour dates as they prepared for their album release.

But he found his way back to you every night. To the contained chaos of your house, the sound of your daughter's laughter, to the warmth of you beside him.

"Hey," He'd say, kicking his shoes off at the door. "How're my two favorite girls?"

"Fussy. And tired," You'd answer, relishing the feeling of his lips on your temple, and his hand on your back.

For every night he’d spent tangled in doubt, there was one you’d spent the same—lying awake with old fears rattling in your head. That you were getting yourself into something you might regret, and all the hours you spent together would one day come to an end. 

But it was getting easier and easier to push these thoughts away.

Heeseung was intentional with you. Direct. Clear. All the things you’d wished for years ago during your first time together. When he made promises, he followed through. When he saw you having a hard time, he took over.

It seemed instinctual, the way he could tell what you needed when things were overwhelming. You weren’t used to it. Asking for help had never been your strong suit, and sometimes the discomfort of it brought you to tears.

But Heeseung guided you through this new territory with ease, never once making you feel like you were too much.

He fit into your life like a puzzle piece, something that had been a part of you even before you knew it was missing. It had only been three months, but Heeseung had quickly become an irreplaceable part of your life. 

——

The car was quiet. Hana's babbling had grown softer as the day caught up to her. The radio was on the lowest setting, a song you could barely make out mixing with the sound of your daughter’s tired muttering.

Heeseung’s hand rested gently on your knee as he drove, his other wrist draped over the steering wheel while he traced absent-minded patterns over your skin.

By the time you were parked in your driveway, Hana was out, cheeks pink from the sun, head lolling against her car seat.

You reached back to brush a curl away from her face, your heart spinning at the feeling of her skin beneath your fingers. Heeseung's touch was equally gentle, thumbing over your knee as he watched you in the mirror.

"I think a bath will have to wait until tomorrow," You said quietly. "We should just get her to bed." You turned around in your seat as Heeseung moved his hand to rest on the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"Hm, an early night with no responsibilities. Whatever will we do with all the extra time?" He said teasingly, leaning forward to kiss you.

Your heart still fluttered when he did that. 

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Lee," You muttered against his lips. "Come on."

Hana's body was heavy in your arms as you carried her up your steps, her diaper bag dangling from your fingers. The house was quiet, still warm from the summer heat as you pushed the door open, trying not to wake the sleeping toddler on your hip.

But as you stepped into the living room, your breath caught. The diaper bag slipped from your grasp, thudding against the ground.

"Babe, have you seen her water bottle—" Heeseung's voice trailed off as he came in behind you. You felt him tense.

He was there. In your house. Leaning against the kitchen counter like he owned the place.

Jace.

Looking at him now, it was so obvious that you'd started dating him all those years ago to get your mind off of Heeseung's absence. The two couldn't have been more different.

Jace's face was carefully guarded, eyes darting between the three of you with cold calculation. His gaze lingered on Hana, her head resting on your shoulder, hand curled around your hair.

His lip curled lightly at the sight of her, that same look that he used to give every time you'd ask him for help, every time you'd beg him to spend time with her. It wasn't hatred. It wasn't even disgust.

It was inconvenience.

Like simply being in the same room as you two was exhausting for him.

Heeseung moved closer behind you, silent. His presence eased some of the panic that was bubbling up your throat. The shift in his posture was unmistakable—tense, protective, itching to step in if you needed him. 

His shoulder brushed yours, a silent reassurance. I'm right here, it said.

Something shifted in Jace's expression as his gaze flicked to Heeseung, taking in the man standing in his place. His face hardened, eyes narrowing, knuckles white as he crossed his arms.

"Long day?" He said finally, voice far too casual for how tense the air around you had become.

You tightened your hold on Hana, shifting her higher against your chest. “What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Jace shrugged, as if there was nothing unusual about the situation at all. The tightness in your throat said otherwise.

"You've been ignoring my calls. Thought I'd stop by in person. I wanted to see my daughter."

The way he said it, my daughter, sent a shiver down the back of your neck. Heeseung let out a low breath, his brows furrowed. 

"You can't just—" You swallowed, your throat dry. "You can't just let yourself in."

"Funny, I'm pretty sure my name's still on the lease. My key still fits in the door. Should've done something about that if you didn't want me coming home."

Heeseung stepped forward, dropping the bag he was holding with a thump. "You need to leave," He said, voice low and even. There was an edge to it that you'd never heard before. Wary. Defensive.

"Oh, right. The boyfriend." Jace pushed away from the counter, crossing the room until he was uncomfortably close. "Heeseung, right? So you're the one who hit the road all those years ago?" His face twisted disdainfully. "Surprised she let you back in the door. Maybe my odds are better than I thought."

Heeseung didn't budge. "You're not wanted here," He said steadily.

"You like playing house with someone else's kid?"

"If that's what you wanna call it, then yeah, I do." He retorted, eyes darkening. "You need to go."

"That's my daughter," Jace said, pointing at Hana. He looked at you then, eyes darting around your face. "Our daughter."

Your heart twisted painfully at that—our daughter—the words you used to pray to hear. The ones he used to spit at you, like she was some kind of disease you'd brought him.

“Figured it was time I start being a part of her life,” He said, fingers twitching like he was thinking about reaching out, touching her. 

You took a step backward, your grip on Hana tightening. Heeseung’s hand was at your back instantly, steadying you.

"Why are you really here?" You asked. "You could have shown up any time before this."

Jace's face changed, that look of forced regret that you'd come to know so well settling over his sharp features. "I didn't know if you wanted me here, y/n. You said some harsh things last time we saw each other."

You frowned. “You didn’t know if... Jace, I called you— I..." You bit your lip, trying to focus on the feeling of Heeseung's thumb smoothing over your lower back.

"I know. And I know I should have been there..." He rubbed at the back of his head. "You know how hard it was for me. I wasn't... I wasn't ready."

"And you want me to believe that suddenly you are?"

He frowned. "Why are you acting like I was never there for you?"

"Because you weren't."

Your heart beat wildly in your chest. Jace had this way of making you feel small. You’d been through it before—his ability to twist every conversation, to make you question your own instincts.

You hated how easily he was doing it now.

"You know, I remember what it was like.” His voice was careful, measured. “When you were alone. When he was gone. I’m surprised you’ve forgiven him so quickly."

Your face hardened.

“Does he know what a mess he left behind when he took off to go prancing around onstage for a bunch of teenage girls?”

“Stop it, Jace.”

You saw what he was trying to do—force himself between you and Heeseung so he could wedge back into your life. You weren’t going to let him do it. 

"What? You don't want him to know what a mess you were? How I had to pick up the pieces after he tossed you aside like you were nothing? Don’t act like I wasn’t there for you, y/n. We both know that’s not true.”

Your looked away, heat rising to your face. His words were dredging up memories you’d tried hard to forget. Moments that filled you with shame and disappointment: the nights you’d spent crying into his chest—long before the pregnancy, before the distance grew between you—begging him to help you forget about Heeseung.

The way you’d let him slip back in even after he'd left you and Hana, just for the help, just for the comfort of not being completely alone. Moments that you swore you'd never repeat.

"I was the one you'd call when you were scared and alone. I was the one who came over when you felt like you were doing everything wrong." He looked at Heeseung then. “You know she still calls me? Every time something’s up with Hana, I get a message. Did she tell you that?”

Heeseung’s face was hard, the edge of his jaw sharp as he ground his teeth. You hadn’t told him that. 

It wasn’t like you were talking to Jace all the time, and the number of texts you sent him went down significantly when Heeseung reentered your life, but… he was the father of your child. 

A part of you still clung to the idea that Hana would get to grow up knowing her dad. Could anyone fault you for trying to include him when it mattered?

“You think I’m gonna feel threatened by a few text messages?” Heeseung said, though you could hear the tension in his voice. 

You glanced at him. This wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going. Still, Heeseung never wavered. He glared at Jace, who crossed his arms and shrugged.

“I just want to make sure you know who y/n’s going to when it really counts.” 

You shook your head, as if clearing his words from your ears. "That's bullshit and you know it. I can’t rely on you for anything. You hated being here. You hated me.”

“Come on, y/n, is that really how you remember me?”

You laughed humorlessly. “It’s exactly how I remember you. You didn't mind it when things were easy—when I was the one carrying all the responsibilities, but when things got hard, you left. You gave up."

"And you think he won't do the same?"

Heeseung bristled beside you.

"You think he won't get sick of you, too? The sad single mom act gets old after a while, believe me."

"Fuck you," You snarled, pressing Hana to your chest as she stirred, letting out a whine at the volume of your voice.

His face twisted, the facade of concern vanishing behind one of anger, and there was the man you knew so well. The one who made you feel trapped, out of control, threatened. The one who couldn't stand being told no.

"I'm the reason you have a place to live," He spat back. "I'm the reason you have a kid to call your own. Why are you acting like I'm the bad guy? You used to love it when I'd come around like this."

Your chest tightened. "I'm taking care of my child."

"You're ungrateful."

Heeseung's fingers closed around the back of your shirt. His voice was sharp, dangerous. "Don't. Don't talk to her like that."

"Why the fuck are you still here?" Jace said, exasperated. "Have I not made myself clear? I've got it. You can run off like you did before. It shouldn't be very hard for you. The way she explained it, it sounded like leaving was the easiest thing you'd ever done."

"Jace," You said, voice low.

"No, we've spent enough time talking about me. How about him? Where were you while y/n was going through all this? If you're so great, why did she need me to pick up the pieces after you tossed her aside?” He looked at you. “What did he say? That things would be different this time around? You’re a smart girl, y/n, I find it hard to believe you’d fall for something like that.”

“You don’t know anything about us.”

Jace’s voice was steady. “I know he doesn’t know you half as well as I do.”

“Bullshit,” Heeseung said.

“Yeah? Try having a kid with someone first, maybe then you’ll get it.”

He scoffed. "Are you an idiot? You left her."

"So did you."

"I'm here now."

Jace held his arms out. "And what do you think I'm trying to do?"

Heeseung balled his fists, clearly trying to contain himself. Hana lifted her head slowly, blinking up at you tiredly.

Jace's eyes were locked on you. "Come on, baby. You're not really gonna kick me out, are you?"

Your throat tightened.

"That's my kid, y/n."

"I want you to go," You said firmly, digging your fingers into your daughter's shirt. "Now."

Jace sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "You're not really giving me much of a choice here."

"Did you not hear what she said?! Get the fuck out!"

He narrowed his eyes at Heeseung, jaw tightening. That infuriatingly calm demeanor that always used to send you spiraling. He held his hands up. 

"Look, I don't want to make your life harder. Especially you, man," He nodded at Heeseung. "I know you have a reputation to keep up. I'd hate for your fans to catch wind that their fav is too busy hanging around another guy's kid to keep singing his little songs."

You inhaled sharply. Heeseung tensed

The threat hung between them, crackling with energy. Heesueng kept his eyes on Jace as he made his way towards the door, his jaw set.

"I'll let you two think about that. See you soon, y/n."

The door closed behind him, plunging the room into an almost suffocating silence. Hana whimpered softly against your shoulder, and you rocked her gently, though you hardly realized you were doing it. Your pulse thundered in your ears.

Heeseung hovered beside you, his expression taut. He was breathing hard, the adrenaline of the interaction still fresh in the clench of his fists, the rigid line of his jaw.

His thumb brushed lightly against your shoulder, a wordless reassurance that he was there, he wasn’t going anywhere. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, hurt—something you could see him trying to swallow.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded, your breath shallow. "I'm sorry you had to see that," You said, meeting his gaze hesitantly. 

He was staring at the counter, where Jace had been leaning when you first walked in. You could practically see his mind racing, the thoughts flying behind his eyes as he worked his way through his emotions. 

“I didn’t know you still talked to him,” He said flatly, not meeting your eyes. His voice was calm, neutral, but you knew that look on his face. 

He was trying not to care. And he was failing miserably. 

“I…” You started. “I don’t, Heeseung. Not really. It’s been weeks—”

“Weeks?” He looked at you.

The hurt was plain on his face. He’d been with you for three months—Hana had started walking, learned how to say your names—and the news that you’d been talking to your ex during that time seemed to crash over him, his expression falling. 

You felt your throat tighten, defensiveness creeping up the back of your tongue. Jace was the father of your child. The man responsible for giving you your daughter. Did it really bother Heeseung that bad? That you had a one-off exchange every now and then to check in about your kid? 

Of course, it did. 

“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you,” You managed, searching his face. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

His tone made you wince. Not because it was loud, or angry, but because he sounded genuinely hurt.

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you, I just— Look, nothing’s going on between us, Heeseung. I would never do that to you—”

“God, no, y/n,” He said, stepping away as he ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” You asked defensively, fidgeting with the edge of Hana’s shirt. She had her fingers on your necklace, blissfully unaware of the tension growing between you and Heeseung.

“It is a big deal, y/n. Not because I think something is going on— I would never—” He huffed, frustrated. “I’m trying to be here for you. For both of you. I wish you would let me.” 

“I am! That’s her dad, Heeseung! Are you really angry with me for trying to involve him in her life?”

“Yes! I am, actually.” He put his hands on his hips, his soft features hardened by the frown on his face. “What the hell could he possibly bring to her life but pain and confusion? Do you really want him around her, y/n? Really?”

You flushed. “I want her to be able to make that choice when she’s—”

He cut you off. “No. You have to make that choice for her. You’re her mom. You’re supposed to keep her safe.”

You tensed, anger rising up your chest. “You don’t get to talk about what being her mom means.”

“I don’t understand why you’d go to him for anything—especially about Hana,” He said angrily. 

“It’s not for you to understand! You don’t know what it’s like—” 

“He practically broke into your house, y/n! He threatened you—he threatened her.”

“He threatened you,” You snapped. “God, I knew this would happen!”

That shut him up for a second. 

His jaw clenched. “Knew what would happen?”

“This!” You gestured at him. “That it was going to be too much, trying to balance your career and being here with us. You were going to have to choose eventually.”

His expression broke, actually broke. He looked away as his face cracked, eyes glassy. Hanna began to fuss against your chest, glancing between you with an upset expression on her face.

The sight of both of them broke your heart.

“You know what happens if people find out, Heeseung. You know.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care.”

“They’ll tear her apart. They’ll tear me apart.”

“I won’t let that happen!” He snapped. Then he looked at you, brows furrowed, the pain written across his face. “How could you say that to me? That I’d have to choose? You know I— You know that I choose this. Choose you.”

“Then what do you want from me!?”

“I want you to choose me back.” He stared at you, his lip trembling like he was a second away from breaking down completely. “I want you to rely on me. You think I can’t handle it, and I’m trying to show you that I can!”

“You heard what Jace said.”

“You think I give a fuck what he says? I’ll protect you, y/n— We’ll protect you.”

“And if he really does it?” 

He paused, his gaze flickering uncertainly.

“If he leaks our relationship and people find out. Your fans get pissed off. They come for me and my daughter, they tear us apart. Threaten your future. What then? Are you still gonna be choosing me when that happens?”

He stared at you. “I don’t understand why you’re pushing me away.”

The words kept coming, bitter and breathless, like they were choking you. Tears welled behind your eyes. “Because, Heeseung. You don’t know what it’s like, to be left again and again and still try to believe someone when they say they’ll stay.” 

You swallowed, voice trembling. “I’m sorry that you’re angry at me. I’m sorry that I text Hana’s dad sometimes, but—” You bit your lip, your vision blurring. “—I don’t know what I’m doing. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I— I’m making it up as I go along, and I just—I just got used to you being here.”

Heeseung’s hand twitched by his side.

“So, if you’re going to go, do it. Now,” You spat, though your voice was weak. You were shaking, clinging to Hana like she was a lifeline, the only thing you could truly rely on. “Just get it over with.”

You felt your throat burn as he stepped towards you. You were used to the aftermath of a fight like this. The insults, the accusations. The days of silence that followed, that left you broken and scared. 

And god, you were scared. Scared that you’d pushed him too far. That he was going to turn and get his things, slam the door closed behind him like Jace was always doing. 

You whimpered as his hands went to your arms, fingers gripping your sleeves. Not harsh—sure. Steady. 

You braced for the sting. The familiar recoil of being pulled away from. The snapping words, the withdrawal, the rejection. But they never came. 

Heeseung’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why do you have so little faith in me?”

Your chest seized. 

He looked pained. “I don’t know how else to show you that I’m here, but I’m trying.” 

You couldn’t help it—you started to cry.

His voice was quiet, earnest. “You can trust me. I want you to trust me.” He said it firmly, pulling you to his chest as if he just said it the right way, said it enough times, the words might sink into your skin. Might finally stick. 

The moment you were in your arms, that you realized he wasn’t leaving, the weight of it all came crashing down. Your breath caught in your throat, your hands shaking.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped out. “I’m sorry I said that. Heeseung—”

He pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. “I know. It’s okay.” 

Smushed between you, Hana began to squirm, her voice rising in protest. Heeseung pulled away enough to look down at her. 

You watched as he brushed her hair out of the way, his face soft, and sorry, and scared. It was written all over him—the way he had one hand wrapped around you, the other thumbing gently at Hana’s cheek—he was scared of losing you.  

The same way you were about him. 

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” Heeseung said, leaning down to look at Hana. The words were meant for her, but they sank into your heart all the same. 

We’re okay. 

You pressed your face to the top of her head and closed your eyes, allowing the lingering scent of salt and sunscreen to soothe the last of your unease. 

We’re okay. If you could believe in nothing else, you believed in that.  

You fell asleep that night with your face pressed against Heeseung’s neck, his heart thrumming gently against your cheek. Lying there with his arms around your shoulders, it was hard to remember that you’d fought at all, or that there had been anything to fight about in the first place.

Jace seemed a world away. The words you’d thrown out of fear and defensiveness seemed a world away. For that blissful night, you believed what he’d said: that he would protect you, and that as long as you were together, nothing was going to get between you and your family. 

But it was never going to be that simple. 

——

Things were tense for the next few days. There was no outright evidence to point to—no tone, no passive aggressive comments, no real change in behavior. They were just… different. 

Heeseung seemed to be treading more carefully around you. He no longer stepped in to help you with Hana where he saw fit, like she was just as much his responsibility as she was yours.

You’d never minded when he did that. His instincts were usually right, and you liked that he felt a sense of entitlement to caring for her. It was a wordless sort of reassurance that you’d come to rely on. 

Now, he waited for you to ask him for help, as if scared of overstepping a boundary that you couldn’t remember ever placing. He hovered. He was there the moment you needed him, but that sense of belonging, of being a single unit, it seemed to get smaller and smaller.

You tried not to read too much into it. He wanted you to trust him.

That’s what he had said. 

That he wanted you to rely on him, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that your days of second-guessing yourself and your relationship could finally be over. 

But it was hard for you. Of course, it was. You really did try, but it wasn’t easy when he seemed quieter than usual. It wasn’t easy when his once steady hand around Hana’s waist became hesitant, unsure. 

And it wasn’t easy when he got a phone call Sunday afternoon, and stepped into the hallway to take it. 

“Hey Heeseung, can you come back to the dorm? Management is here.” 

Jungwon’s voice was casual, but there was an underlying that edge that made Heeseung’s stomach twist uncertainly. 

“Sure. Is everything okay?” He asked, glancing back at you and Hana playing on the carpet. 

“It’s fine. Just get here when you can.”

You looked up from the living room floor as he hung up the phone. 

“Was that Jungwon?”

He nodded, grabbing his jacket from the couch. “Yeah, management is at the dorm. I guess they’re calling everyone in.” 

You didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty that crossed his face, the interaction with Jace still fresh in both your minds. But Hana was climbing across your legs, her hands grabbing at the strands of hair falling out of your braid, and the look was gone as soon as it came, replaced by one of soft encouragement at your daughter’s venturing. 

Heeseung squatted down, brushing the hair out of her face and giving you a kiss on your temple. “I’ll be back later, okay? I’ll text you.” 

“Okay,” You said, your throat tightening as he got up, the smell of his cologne lingering as the door shut behind him. 

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach in the silence that followed, but you did your best to push it away. We’re okay. Heeseung’s words echoed in your mind, and despite the age-old insecurities that still lingered in you, you chose to believe him. 

He’d be back later. He’d text you. You’d fall asleep the same way you had for the past few months, wrapped within his protective embrace and comforted by the fact that no matter what happened, you had each other. 

Only, he didn’t text you later that night. 

In fact, he didn’t come back at all. 

——

“This is bullshit.” 

Heeseung stood in the middle of his dorm’s living room, jacket in his hands, shoes still on as if ready to bolt out the door at any moment. And he wanted to. 

He was furious.

He’d told you he’d be back. That he would text you when he was on his way, but his phone—along with everyone else’s—now resided inside a cardboard box that was tucked securely under the arm of their manager, Sejin. 

“It’s just while we figure out how serious this guy is,” Sejin reminded him for what was probably the tenth time that night.

Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. “That’s bullshit!” He repeated, looking to the others for backup. 

They were scattered around the living room, looking equally annoyed at the news, but not very eager to chime in. 

The email had come that morning. An vague threat from an unfamiliar contact that Heeseung had no trouble identifying as Jace. The members had been gathered back at the dorm to discuss the next step in dealing with this, and the plan that was proposed made Heeseung want to throw something at the wall. 

Instead, he huffed at his groupmates’ silence, and shook his head. “You can’t keep us here,” He said angrily.

Sejin was exasperated. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“Give me my phone back.”

“We can’t risk it, Heeseung. You know that.”

“At least let me call her!” 

“Heeseung, stop it!”

Sejin’s voice bounced off the walls. He pointed a finger, knuckles white. 

“You are the reason that we’re in this situation in the first place. I told you restarting this relationship was a mistake, and now we have threats—serious threats—that someone is going to go public with this information.” 

Heeseung ground his jaw, fists clenching by his side. 

“Do you even understand what happens if this leaks?” Sejin stared him down, wearing a look Heeseung hadn’t seen since he was a trainee. The one that said he was in charge, and that Heeseung would do well to remember it. 

It made his hair stand on end. 

“If this story breaks, you can say goodbye to the comeback. To the tour. Your MNET nomination—any nominations. This won’t just tank your name, it’ll drag the whole group down with it.”

Heeseung’s gaze flicked toward the others, who sat silently, watching.

“None of them asked to be part of this,” Sejin went on, his tone sharp. “And now you’ve made them targets for a potentially career-ending scandal.”

Heeseung could hardly speak, he was so angry, “I’m not saying it’s not a big deal, but dating scandals come out all the time! We’ve survived worse, I don’t understand—”

Sejin slammed his hand on the table, causing everyone to flinch. “It’s not a dating scandal, Heeseung! She has a kid. That changes everything. You know it does.” 

Heeseung bit his lip, so furious that his hands were trembling. He felt his rage contort into something else, something worse. Shame. Helplessness. Guilt. 

Of course, he knew that this was serious, that he’d put the others at risk for something that didn’t involve them, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear from his manager. Not even close.

Sure, he could comfort you. He could tell you everything would be alright until he was blue in the face, and he’d mean every word of it. But what he wanted—god, he felt so stupid—what he needed was for someone to say the same to him.

To tell him it would be okay.

That this would blow over. That someone was handling it. That he didn’t have to fix everything himself.

Because the honest truth was that Heeseung was scared. 

The interaction with Jace had shaken him more than he could admit. He wanted to be strong for you, to protect you and Hana from whatever complications might come with your being together, but he felt powerless now. 

He wanted someone to tell him that it was going to be okay. And Sejin wasn’t giving him that. Not even close.

“Stop thinking about yourself for one second and think about what happens if your name becomes associated with this kid,” He continued. “She’ll be the first thing that comes up when people look up anything related to you. Yours or not, she’ll be your headline. Your scandal. Your mistake.”

Heeseung glared, his voice low. “She’s not a mistake.” 

Sejin didn’t budge. “It doesn’t matter what she is to you. She’s a liability to everyone else.”

“This isn’t fair.”

He held a hand up. Final. “No phone. No calls. No leaving this dorm until we hear back from our lawyers.”

“Sejin—”

“I’m not asking, Heeseung.” His voice was low. Dangerous. 

The other looked between them nervously. Jungwon was perched on the arm of the couch, looking as though he wanted to say something but feared he might receive the same treatment Heeseung had.

He hesitated. “I think y/n should know what’s going on.”

Sejin sighed. “Jungwon, you heard what I—”

“I’m not saying Heeseung should be the one to do it,” He said quickly. “I just think you should tell her what’s happening. She’s going to wonder why Heeseung isn’t messaging her, and she might come here. It’ll be even worse if someone gets a picture of her outside the dorm.”

Sejin paused, considering his words. “Fine. We’ll get in touch with her. But that’s it,” He said seriously, eyeing Heeseung. 

Heeseung bit back everything he wanted to say, everything he should have said, as the team shuffled out of the dorm. He kept his fists clenched by his side as the door slammed shut, leaving them all in silence.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, Heeseung collapsed into a chair and ran a hand through his hair. He sighed.

“I’m sorry,” He managed, struggling to look at the others.

Sunghoon shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

The others murmured in agreement. 

“You didn’t ask this guy to go sharing your personal life with the public.”

“No, but I should have known better,” He insisted, bouncing his leg restlessly. “God, I told y/n I’d be back tonight. She’s probably freaking out right now.”

Jake moved in, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down. “What happened anyways?” 

“Yeah, how did this guy even find out about you?” Jay came to join them at the table, the others following suit.

Heeseung broke into a long-winded explanation of how the evening had unfolded—getting home from the beach, seeing Jace there in the kitchen. The way he had spoken to you, like he was responsible for every good thing in your life. 

Like he was the reason you had anything to call your own. Like he was the reason Hana was growing up so well. Like you weren’t the one who had fought tooth and nail to give your daughter a good life.

Just thinking about it made Heeseung’s hands ball in his lap.

“So he, like, broke in?” Jake asked incredulously. “Like, was just waiting for her to get home?”

“Yup.”

“I’m glad you were there with her,” Sunghoon said. “Who knows what would’ve happened if she was alone.”

Jungwon was quiet for a while before he glanced at Heeseung. “I can’t imagine how overwhelming this must be.” 

“It’s fine… I just wish we were together right now, you know?” Heeseung sighed.

“Not for you. For y/n.”

He looked up.

“Maybe…” Jungwon said, speaking slowly, “Maybe this is good. The space, I mean.” 

Everyone looked at him.

He held his hands up. “I’m just saying—this is a lot, right? The press, her ex, Hana..”

Heeseung blinked. “What are you trying to say?”

Jungwon hesitated. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, because it’s not. It’s just…” His voice softened. “Y/n’s had a really hard time. And I don’t think we’re making things any easier for her.”

It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even wrong. But it hit Heeseung like a blow to the stomach. 

Not we, he thought. Me. 

Sunoo looked between them, watching the emotions that passed over Heeseung’s face—the way his shoulders dropped, how quiet he became.

He half-laughed, clapping his hand on Jungwon’s shoulder. “Oh, come on, I don’t think that’s true,” He said lightly. “I mean, you might be right, the space might be good—but she loves you, Heeseung. And she’s tough. She can handle more than we give her credit for.”

Heeseung nodded, suddenly wishing that he was alone. 

He didn’t say anything. Not when the others chimed in to agree, not when the conversation began to shift, not even when they dispersed to hang out in their rooms or go back to gaming on the couch. 

He just sat there, Jungwon’s words replaying in his mind.

I don’t think we’re making things any easier for her.

It looped in his head like a chorus, burning at the back of his throat like a pill he couldn’t quite swallow. Jungwon hadn’t meant it to be harsh, but Heeseung couldn’t let go of it.

You’d had a hard time. He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t ask for this.

The worst part? It was the truth.

You hadn’t asked for any of this. Hadn’t asked Heeseung to come back into your world. Hadn’t asked him to help you. Hadn’t wanted to complicate your daughter’s life. You’d only started opening up because Heeseung had practically begged you to let him in. 

Because he swore he could handle it. Because he thought loving you would be enough. 

He pushed away from the table, biting back all his anger and frustration. In his room, he paced, sat down on his chair, got back up again. When he collapsed onto his bed, he reached for his phone on instinct, only to remember that it wasn’t there. 

He sighed. 

He just hoped that Sejin had messaged you already. That he’d made it clear Heeseung wasn’t blowing you off, and that everything would be alright. 

That wouldn’t be long before you’d hear from him again. 

——

Hello, Due to internal circumstances, Heeseung is no longer available for contact. Please do not attempt to reach out to him or any other member of this team. 

The buzz of your phone made you jolt, disturbing the momentary spell of shallow, restless sleep you’d managed to slip into. 

It had been a rough night. 

Hana had cried, and cried, and cried. She’d gotten used to Heeseung being there to put her down for the night, to the sound of his voice as he read—sometimes even sang—her to sleep. He was good at getting her to settle, even when she was at her most agitated. 

But he hadn’t done either of those things. 

He hadn’t even come home. 

You sat up as you read the message, blinking at your screen. You read it again. 

And again. 

And again.

Heeseung is no longer available for contact. Please do not attempt to reach out. 

Your body tensed, clutching your phone in your hand as if to make sure that it was real. That your mind wasn’t playing a cruel joke, taking advantage of your lack of sleep and weakened emotional state to recreate your worst nightmare. 

But no. The text stared back at you from your screen. Incredibly real. 

Heeseung is no longer available for contact. 

Do not attempt to reach out. 

You felt your resolve snap, the poorly constructed sense of calm and rational you’d been clinging to splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. 

You let out a laugh. Sharp. Humorless. Half in shock and half at the irony of the situation. 

Above the text, was another grey message bubble. The only other message you’d ever received from this number, date stamped to three years ago, glaring up at you with a sick glow that still made your stomach twist when you looked at it. 

Hi Y/N,  As you know, ENHYPEN will be departing for their debut tour soon. After thorough consideration, it’s been decided that Heeseung and the rest of the group’s attention should lie solely on preparing for this major step in their careers. We thank you for your understanding and ask that you do not join us at the airport tomorrow. We wish you the best. 

HYBE Management 

You curled forward, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles went white. 

Everything came back. 

Everything you’d been trying so hard to forget over the past three months. Heeseung’s silent departure from your life, the wordless goodbye, the way you didn’t even get to ask any questions. The decision had been made for you, just like it was being made now. 

Were you really here again? Stuck in the same situation that had haunted you for months on end? Eyes glazed as you read and reread a message sent as carelessly as if you were some stranger on the street?

It wasn’t just the content of the message that stung; it was the method. 

After everything—the laughter in the kitchen, the soft, stolen moments in the hallway, the promises Heeseung had whispered against your skin like they were prayers—you got this? 

A text. Faceless and clinical, like you were inconsequential. Insignificant. Nothing. Your eyes burned with a kind of pain that was older than your relationship, older than your daughter, older than you. 

The kind that came with realizing you’d ended up exactly where you swore you wouldn’t. Exactly where Heeseung had promised you’d never be again. 

It was hard not to panic. Not to sink to the floor and fall apart, the way you had the first time you felt the stinging slap of reality hand-delivered by a text message just like this. 

Your mind replayed a thousand moments of comfort—his fingers wrapped around yours, his protective hand on your back, the jokes, the reassurances, the I’m right here’s—clinging to the possibility that you were misunderstanding something. 

Things were different now, weren’t they? Heeseung had made a promise—he’d promised—that he was going to be there. Didn’t that mean anything?

You took a breath. Steeled yourself. 

There had to be an explanation for this. Something had to have happened—no way he would do this to you again. 

You closed out of the contactless chat and opened your texts with him. Your face reflected back at you from your most recent exchange: a photo of you and Hana ankle-deep in the ocean, the surf bubbling around her feet.

You clenched your jaw as you typed.

Y/N Management just texted me What’s going on? Call me please

When no reply came, you tried Jungwon. And Sunoo. And even Jake, who’d only ever texted you to get the password for your Netflix account and to ask if you wanted anything from the convenience store. 

No one answered. 

The day passed long and torturous, with no words of comfort from any of the people who had become so central to your life. 

You sent an embarrassing number of texts to Heeseung, each met with stark, painful silence. 

Y/N Can you just tell me what’s going on

Y/N Are we really doing this again?

Y/N I don’t understand. 

And every hour that went by seemed to bring on a new set of emotions, each more turbulent and frantic than the last.

Y/N You couldn’t even spare the time to talk to me face-to-face? 

Y/N I can’t believe we’re back here again. Exactly where we started. 

Y/N You make me feel so fucking stupid Heeseung I never should’ve believed a word out of your mouth

You typed out a hundred different things: long-winded paragraphs explaining that he wasn’t welcome anymore, that he’d never be welcome around you or your daughter again. Cruel, curse-filled insults that stung the back of your throat as you typed them. Rambling sentences that barely made any sense, begging him to just talk to you. To explain what had gone wrong. 

You didn’t send them. You deleted everything you wrote almost as soon as you were done writing it. Your thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button before moving up, your heart thundering at the base of your throat.

Blocked. 

For now. 

Let the silence swallow him instead, you thought angrily, throwing your phone across your bed. 

You focused on Hana, clothing and feeding and playing with her, trying to ignore the way Heeseung’s presence seemed to linger around your house like a ghost. 

A hint of his cologne as you walked into the room, like he’d been there only moments before. A glimpse of his silhouette in the corner of your eye, as if he were still there, leaned against the wall, watching you with that half-smile on the corner of his lips. 

Your daughter sensed your shift in mood and became inconsolable herself, pushing your hand away as you fed her, turning her head when you went to kiss her cheek.

“Hee?” She said, frowning at you from her chair at the table. 

It would have killed him, the softness in her voice, the way she stumbled over the syllables of his name. She’d been asking for him all day. You had no way to explain to her why he wasn’t the one feeding her dinner or playing with her on the couch.

“No, baby,” You said firmly, bringing her water bottle from the kitchen. 

Hana glared at you. “Hee,” She said stubbornly, smacking her spoon against the table. 

“He’s not here,” You repeated, trying to keep the edge from your voice. 

“No,” She said angrily.

“Believe me, I’m upset, too.”

“No!” Her spoon clattered to the floor, spraying bits of food across the floor. 

You frowned. “Hana, stop it.”

“No!” She screeched, straining against the safety belt at her lap. 

You tried to get her bowl out of the way, but she was quicker than you, smacking it off the table with a sharp scream. “No!” She screamed, kicking her feet furiously.

You felt tears prick behind your eyes—hot, angry. Her wailing pierced your ears painfully, sending a wave of helpless frustration over you. 

Where was your tantrum? Why couldn’t you scream and cry until someone came to comfort you? Your vision blurred as you picked the spoon and bowl up from the floor, dropping them into the sink.

You braced against the counter, trying to steady the wave of emotion that you’d been struggling to contain. Trying even just to breathe. Heeseung would have been offering to wash the dishes for you by now, or finding some way to distract Hana while you caught a moment to yourself.

Instead, you were alone, flinching every time her voice rose, wishing that he were there to help you. The fact that you missed it—missed him—made you feel pathetic. Weak. Like you were the same stupid girl who was still hoping someone else would come and save you. 

Hadn’t you learned anything at all?

The sound of Hana’s screaming kept rising, rough and confused. You looked at her, all red and blotchy from crying, her tiny body fighting to escape her highchair into a pair of arms that weren’t even there to hold her. 

The tears that had threatened you all day finally spilled over, dripping down your cheeks and onto the backs of your hands as you pushed away from the counter, exhausted. 

“I know,” You choked out, voice wavering. “I know you want him. I know, I know. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You pulled at the belt around her lap, and she lunged toward you, arms outstretched. You lifted her gently, careful not to catch her legs on the table as you pulled her into your chest, rubbing her back in a fruitless attempt to ease her distress.

Her face was wet against your neck, voice vibrating against you, feet digging into your stomach. You held her tightly, unable to stop yourself from crying with her. 

You felt so angry. So betrayed. So ashamed. 

How many times had you told yourself not to listen to him? Not to trust what he was offering, which had always sounded too good to be true. 

A stable presence in your life? Someone to help you navigate the uncertainty of raising your daughter? Even just a pair of arms to crawl into at the end of the day? 

Your own child’s father couldn’t offer you that. Why on earth did you think Heeseung would? 

Because he told you he would, your heart said stubbornly. Because he begged you to let him. 

You shook your head, carrying Hana down the hall to the bathroom. That excuse wasn’t good enough. Not for you. The sun set behind the trees, casting your house into a second night of empty silence, and all you could think was:

I knew better. I should have known better. 

——

The next day, Hana woke with a fever.

You stayed home from work, called off the babysitter, prayed that if you kept giving her water and dressing her in her lightest clothes that it’d burn off on its own. 

It didn’t.

Hana’s voice grew hoarse from crying as the day passed by, her temperature continuing to rise and fall long into the night.

You tried to remain calm about it, but you couldn’t help the twinge of unease that crept into the back of your mind as you watched the hours tick by. The sun set as you rubbed a gentle hand on her back. You were still there when it began to rise again the next morning.

Hana fussed in her crib, too tired to cry, too uncomfortable to sleep, as you grew more and more anxious. 

Before you knew it, you were googling symptoms, trying not to catastrophize over every horrible disease and illness the internet suggested she might have.

Mommy forums debated over potential diagnoses and treatments. Some posts offered encouragement, others words of warning. You read story after story of people who’d brushed fevers off as cold symptoms, only to discover their child was experiencing a life-threatening infection. 

DO NOT WAIT!! I made the mistake of waiting to take my daughter to the doctor for a fever and we ended up spending the weekend in the emergency room. Please don’t make my mistake!

Fevers aren’t really something to worry about unless it reaches above 102°F. If they last longer than 24 hours—at ANY temp—go to the doctor immediately. 

You looked at the clock. It was pushing 6am. Your stomach twisted uneasily, a million horrible scenarios spinning through your mind. 

You called your mom, apologizing for waking her up so early as you watched Hana squirm in her sleep, her hair damp with sweat. 

“She’s still burning. It’s been almost a full day.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. You didn’t want her to know how overwhelmed you were. You couldn’t bare the shame that would come with her concern.

“I keep telling myself it’s just a fever, but what if it’s not? What if I’m waiting too long? God, I don’t even know if I can take her in. I had to call out yesterday—my boss is already pissed. If I lose this job...”

“Isn’t Heeseung with you? Can’t he take her?”

Your eyes burned. 

You knew telling your parents about him was a mistake. It had only been a few weeks of being back together, but you hadn’t been able to keep it to yourself. 

You’d been too excited, too happy about being with him to keep it a secret. Now, it only reminded you how foolish you’d been.

“He’s busy,” You lied, throat dry. “Work stuff. You know how it is for them.”

You heard your mom sigh over the phone. “I don’t like that he leaves you alone so often, y/n. Having a kid is a full-time job.”

Your jaw clenched. “Well, she’s not his kid.” 

“No, I suppose not. Can you call Jace? I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a hand with her. At the very least, a ride to urgent care.”

Your grip tightened on your phone. “I guess. I’ll try. Thanks, mom. Sorry for waking you.” 

“That’s okay, honey. Let me know if things get any worse, alright?”

You hummed, settling back into silence as you hung up. 

Can you call Jace? 

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. After your interaction earlier that week, talking to your ex was the last thing you wanted to do. 

If you called him now, everything he said about you would be right. That you still needed him. That you were an idiot for trusting Heeseung. 

You’re a smart girl, y/n, I find it hard to believe you’d fall for something like that. His words burned at the back of your throat.

You could see it now: his smug, gloating face, as he realized that he had you exactly where he wanted you. Alone. Desperate. Nowhere else to go. 

But looking at Hana, you struggled to weigh your resentments toward him against her well-being. If your daughter was in danger, was there anything you wouldn’t do to help her?

Seeing her now, sweating in her crib, cheeks raw from all the crying, you realized that might have to include swallowing your pride. 

You opened your phone again, avoiding the mommy blogs and tabs of medical advice, and found your text messages. 

Heeseung’s name was at the top of the list. 

You hesitated. 

Thumb hovering over his name, you considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this could be an alternative to calling Jace. One you’d been too stubborn to entertain before. One that would likely result in nothing but an answering machine and the bitter taste of disappointment in your mouth.

But was it worth the try?

You clicked on his name, swallowing the lump in your throat as you unblocked his number and called it.  

At first, you were surprised that it even rang. You’d figured Heeseung would have blocked you right back after discovering his texts weren’t sending. But then, you didn’t have any new messages coming in, and he probably didn’t care enough to even realize you’d blocked him in the first place. 

The phone rang.

And rang. 

And rang. 

Unanswered.

You weren’t sure why you stayed on the line. Maybe you didn’t want to believe that this was really over. That his phone was receiving your call and he was actively choosing not to pick up. 

Maybe you just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.

It came out the speaker into your ear, warm and bright, absent-minded, like he had recorded the message in the middle of doing something else. 

“Hey, sorry I missed you. Leave a message or shoot me a text. Talk to ya later. Bye.”

You clutched your phone, breath trembling slightly. 

“Hey…” You began, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that this was the stupidest thing you’d ever done. “Sorry—this is… Hana’s sick. Um, she’s got a pretty bad fever, and I think she needs to see a doctor…” You trailed off, staring at the wall numbly. “Sorry, you clearly don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I guess I just—” 

Your chest tightened, voice faltering. 

“You told me to trust you. You said that I didn’t need to rely on Jace anymore. You got mad at me for relying on him, actually, because you wanted me to rely on you.”

You let out a tired laugh, rubbing a hand over your face. It was hard to believe you were back here. Leaving messages for people who couldn’t care less about you or your problems. 

But who were you kidding? Heeseung was never going to listen to this. Your stream of unanswered texts told you as much. 

“I guess I’m just confused. Confused because I was ready to do it, to stop pushing you away, and then you just… disappeared. And the funny thing is, I’m not even surprised. I mean, this was what I figured would happen all along, right?” 

Your gaze fell, throat burning with a mix of embarrassment and regret. “You’re not even going to listen to this. I’m just gonna… I’m gonna call Jace and see if he can take us to urgent care. Hana’s fever isn’t breaking, and I’m worried it could be something serious. I guess I just thought you might want to know. Anyways… Goodbye, Heeseung.”

Your voice cracked as you hung up, hurrying to find Jace’s contact buried under your other texts. You feared that if you hesitated, even for a second, you wouldn’t do it. 

The line rang twice before he answered. Your throat felt tight, like you wanted to scream, or cry, or throw up. Probably all three. 

“Y/n?” He sounded groggy. It was barely 7am, after all. He was probably just waking up. 

“Jace,” You answered, tensing. “It’s Hana.” 

——

The ride to urgent care was quiet. Jace rested his elbow on the middle console between you, hand close enough that you could have taken it, if you wanted. 

You didn’t.

He sat with you in the waiting room. Listened as the doctor quelled your fears about Hana’s fever. Nodded through the medication explanation and what to do if the fever wasn’t breaking—all as if he was the one who’d be taking care of her.

He managed to convince you to call your boss, who was gracious enough to give you the next few days off. Probably because you sounded half-dead, running on a few measly hours of sleep from two days ago. 

Hana slept the whole time, waking only to protest as the doctor took her temperature, and falling back asleep before you’d even made it out of the building. 

Jace watched the two of you carefully, as if waiting for the right moment to bring up what he’d said before. That he wanted to be a part of your lives. You desperately hoped that he wouldn’t. You were exhausted. And you weren’t sure if you had it in you to fight him off this time. 

He waited until he was pulling into your driveway, his voice carefully even.

“I meant what I said, you know. About wanting to be around.” 

“Jace,” You said quietly, the warning already in your tone.

“I’m not trying to make things harder,” He insisted. “I just—look at her. She deserves to know who her dad is.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. Your head was pounding. “She deserves stability. Not confusion. We can’t—” You took a breath. “I can’t keep letting people into her life who are only going to leave.”

“Come on, y/n. I’m here now.”

You clenched your jaw. “Where were you last month? Or the month before that? She turned two, did you know that?”

“I’m here now,” He repeated, like that was a reasonable answer to your questions.

“You don’t just get to drop in when you feel like it, Jace,” You said harshly, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car. 

He followed, coming around the other side to stop you. He put a hand out as you opened Hana’s door, pushing it closed.  

“Jace.”

“No, I’m not letting you do this anymore,” He hissed, eyes bright and angry. “You think you can just call me when you need something and then toss me aside once you get what you want? What is this, y/n? Why did you call me?”

“Because our daughter is sick! Because I’ve been awake for the past 48 hours, and I didn’t think it was a very good idea for me to get behind the wheel of a car.” 

“Our daughter.” He repeated. “So you can admit that I’m her father but you won’t let me actually be a part of her life?”

“She might be your daughter,” You hissed, “But you will never be her father.” You glared at him, yanking the door handle open again.

He slammed it shut with more force this time, stepping closer.

“Don’t act like this is just about her,” He spat. “You needed someone, and he wasn’t there. So now you need me, right? The backup plan?”

Your mouth fell open. “Is that what you think this is?” Your voice was shaking. “You think I dragged myself out of bed, begged you to come, waited in that doctor’s office for forty-five minutes because I missed you?”

“You always do this,” He snapped. “You call when things are falling apart and then blame me for showing up.”

You shoved past him to open the door, unbuckling Hana with trembling fingers. She stirred, letting out a soft cry. “She doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Because you won’t let her!”

“Because you’re not what she needs!” You snapped back, pulling her to your chest. Her body was still hot. The medication from the doctor rattled in your bag as you adjusted her in your arms. “She doesn’t need people who only show up when I’m out of options—she needs people who are here. Every day. Who don’t disappear when they get tired of playing house.” 

“Oh, you mean like Heeseung?”

The words hit like a slap to the face. 

Jace’s lip curled at your shock. “Why isn’t he the one driving you to urgent care? Don’t tell me, I was right, wasn’t I? He finally figured out what a drag it is dealing with someone else’s kid and hit the road. Right?”

You ground your jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Then where is he, huh? Why’d you call me and not him?” 

“Shut up, Jace. Go home.” 

He stepped in again, hands flexing by his sides, like he knew he’d upset you. Like he was enjoying it. “You wanna play dumb with me? It’s written all over your face, y/n. He’s long gone. Couldn’t even pretend long enough to stick around.”

Your grip on Hana tightened, stomach twisting. “I want you to leave. Now.”

“Right, because you're still holding out hope he'll come crawling back?” Jace scoffed. “I’m her father. I have a right to see her.” “She doesn't know you!” You were yelling now. Both of you. 

“You can’t just keep her from me—”

“She’s not a thing to be kept, Jace, she’s a child!” You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. “And I won’t let you confuse her just because you’re feeling left out.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna sit around hoping he comes back? Or maybe you already have another guy lined up. Is that it? Found someone else to burden with your issues? God, you’re so desperate, it’s pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” You hissed, turning to leave. 

“Don’t you walk away from me.” He grabbed your shoulder, forcing you back around. 

You gasped, shoving his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me, Jace.” 

“I’ll do what the fuck I want—” 

“Jace—” 

But he wasn’t listening. He pushed you. Hard. Shoved his hands into your shoulders like he was testing you, daring you to stand up to him again. Your grip tightened on Hana, panic rising up the back of your throat. He sneered, stepping towards you again. And then—

“Get your fucking hands off of her.” 

Heeseung’s voice. So sharp and furious it didn’t even sound like him. Your breath caught as you turned to see him rushing towards you.

Your voice cracked, half surprise, half disbelief. “Heeseung—” 

He shoved Jace back hard—both hands against his chest, slamming him away from you. “Leave. Now. Fucking get out of here, or I swear to god—” 

Jace made a noise of surprise, stumbling back slightly. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up—”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?!” Heeseung was shouting. Frantic. His chest was heaving like he’d run there. His phone was clutched in his hand, your texts flashing from his screen. “If you touch her again, I will ruin your life.”

“You really think you’re going to scare me off?” Jace retorted. “You think you can walk in here and tell me what to do?”

His voice was sharp. “You put your hands on her.” 

Jace scoffed. “I didn’t hurt her—”

“You grabbed her.” Heeseung stepped forward. “You raised your voice. You pushed her with a baby in her arms.”

“I’m her father,” Jace snapped.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Heeseung spat, hands shaking by his sides. 

“You gonna hit me?” Jace taunted, folding his arms over his chest. “Real classy. Real dad material.”

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a father.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Know more than you? Yes. I’d say I do.” Heeseung’s breath came in sharp bursts. “I’ve been here. Every day that you weren’t. Your daughter turned two last month—where the fuck were you? Gone. As usual. The only reason you’re here right now is because I couldn’t be.” 

You inhaled sharply. Couldn’t be? What was that supposed to mean? Your heart hammered against your chest as Heeseung snapped at Jace, half a mind to just take Hana and leave. To lock your door and ignore them both. But Heeseung kept going, his voice harsh. Accusing.

“I would have been here today,” He said. “If my manager hadn’t taken my phone because of the threat that you sent in.” 

You stiffened. 

“And I’m not going to stand here and let you make them feel unsafe.” He finished. “Not now. Not ever again.”

Your head spun.

Jace had done it? He’d threatened Heeseung’s managers? And they’d reacted by… taking Heeseung’s phone. Of course. Keeping him offline until they could figure out how to handle it.

Your heart stuttered as the realization sank in. You felt sick. 

Jace’s face twisted, his knuckles turning white. “Whatever. Keep acting like you’re better than me. This little fantasy you guys have? Not gonna last.” He looked at you. “Don’t forget who you called for help.”

“She called me,” Heeseung snarled. “How many times does she have to reject you before you get it through your head?”

Jace closed his fists, his voice lowering. “You really want to do this?” 

Heeseung hissed, “I fucking dare you.” 

You tensed, taking a step back. For a moment, it looked like he might really do it. Might really step forward. 

Then, Hana whimpered against your neck, too tired to fully take in the scene unfolding before her.  She reached a hand towards Heeseung, her voice cutting through the air that crackled between them. 

“Hee,” She cooed, pouting tiredly at him. 

Heeseung froze. 

You watched his entire body shift. He turned, breath hitching, shoulders dropping, eyes darting between the two of you. You saw it written all over his face—the regret, the apology. He stepped towards you, hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure you even wanted him to. 

And for a moment, you weren’t sure either. You were still processing what he’d said, what it meant. That he hadn’t ignored you, or disappeared. That Jace was the reason you’d spent the past two days drowning in self-doubt. It took a moment for this to become real, for your mind to catch up to what your heart already knew. 

But Hana was insistent, squirming towards him with surprising strength. You brought her closer, chest aching as you watched her latch onto his hand with her own. 

“Hey, supergirl,” He whispered, leaning down to look at her.

Jace let out a sharp breath behind him. “Unbelievable. You let him—”

“Shut up,” You snapped, your voice low, lethal. 

You looked back at Heeseung, heart racing. He brushed his thumb over Hana’s knuckles and you felt something in you give. Loosen. Like a weight finally falling off your shoulders. 

It took one look at the two of them to confirm what you’d been clinging to all along: Heeseung hadn’t lied to you. He’d meant every word he’d said. About being there. About protecting what was his. And looking at him now, you realized how serious he was. 

But Jace wasn’t done. He was never done. You came to this realization as he growled angrily, balling his fists. He would never be done bothering you, not until you cut him out of your life for good. 

He stared at the three of you disdainfully. “I really do care about her, you know. That’s the funny thing. It’s just a shame that her mom is such a bitch.” 

Heeseung’s face changed. Livid. 

He dropped Hana’s hand and turned—shoulders coiled, fists clenched—like he was ready to swing this time. But the commotion of a group of people stopped him, their voices carrying over from the street. 

Before you could even register it, they were there. All of them—Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki—and they’d heard him.

Sunghoon surged forward and shoved Jace, hard. “Say that again.”

The others stepped around you defensively as Jace grunted, hands flexing like he wanted to shove back. But Sunghoon was tall, taller than Heeseung even, and his expression faltered slightly as he took him in. 

“Great. There’s more of you,” He said, eyes darting around as the rest of them approached.

You felt a twinge of satisfaction at the way he looked between them, counting how many of them there were. Second-guessing his chances. 

“What’s going on?” Jungwon asked, stepping between you.  

“I just said what everyone’s already thinking,” Jace snapped, posture shifting like he was trying to ground himself. “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she? Playing house with seven different guys. She open her legs for all of you or—?”

He didn’t get to finish.

Heeseung lunged first.

The shove was violent, sending Jace stumbling back into the side of his car with a loud thud. You flinched, turning your body to shield Hana as chaos erupted around you.

“Heeseung—” You started, but Jake was already grabbing him by the shirt, hauling him back.

“Let go,” Heeseung snarled. Breath heavy, teeth bared. Vicious. “Let go of me.”

“Not here,” Jake gritted out, struggling to keep hold of him. 

“What the hell is going on?” Sejin snapped, storming up to the group, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of Jace scoffing—bitter, mean. Like a dog backed into a corner; snapping at whatever was within reach. 

“Did I hit a nerve?” He spat, wiping his mouth. “You know what? I should be thanking you for taking her off my hands. That bitch’ll turn on you the second she loses interest.”

Sunoo moved fast, stepping in between Jace and the others before Heeseung could break free. “Get the fuck out of here,” He said sharply, his usual sweetness replaced by something colder, more lethal. “Now. Before we make you.”

“You’re not gonna do shit,” Jace sneered. But there was hesitation in his voice. He was outnumbered. Everyone knew it. 

Jungwon’s voice was hard. “You’re not welcome here. You show up again and you won’t be walking away.”

That made him pause. You could see the cracks forming in his confidence. His eyes skirted over the wall of people between you, and for the first time, he looked scared. 

Sejin shoved his way through the group. He wasn’t the tallest person there—not by a long shot—but his presence was sturdy. Protective. Not just of his team, but of you, and your daughter. 

“Jace Mitchell.” The name was sharp on his tongue. 

Jace’s eyes darted over him. “What.” 

“I’m glad we get to meet. You’ll be receiving contact from our legal team by tomorrow morning,” Sejin said, holding a hand out to steady Heeseung, who was shaking, fists clenched, brows taut. 

Sejin’s voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even angry. It was critical. Deathly serious. “The email you sent earlier this week contains a documented threat of blackmail. One that we are taking very seriously.” 

Jace scoffed. “That wasn’t—“

“It was,” Sejin interrupted. “You threatened to disclose private information about an individual and a minor, along with a member of our company. A highly protected member of our company. We have the message and we have your contact information with it. I'm sure a lawyer—which I strongly suggest you get in touch with—can explain the gravity of that.”

“You think I care about your stupid company?”

“I think you care about your job. And being within fifty feet of your daughter.”

Jace’s smile faltered. 

“We take our employee’s safety very seriously. If you make contact again in any form—text, phone, email, in person—without y/n’s explicit consent, I will have a restraining order filed within twenty-four hours. You will never see that little girl again.” 

Jace’s jaw ticked. 

He looked around them before his eyes landed on you. Cold, accusing, full of hate. 

He raised his hands. Surrendering. “I tried. You remember that. When this—” He pointed at Heeseung. “—doesn’t work out, don’t come crawling back to me.” 

You glared back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His gaze swept over you, at your daughter asleep against your chest, at the way Heeseung was murmuring to the both of you, making sure you were alright. 

“Whatever,” He muttered. “More trouble than you’re fucking worth.”

You watched him turn towards his car, fist shaking around his keys. Then, like he couldn’t help himself—

”Fucking slut.” He hissed under his breath. 

Heeseung rounded, the others exclaiming as he stepped towards Jace. Jungwon grabbed him by the arm roughly, yanking him back, as Jace ducked into his car. 

Jungwon slammed the door shut behind him, cursing as Jace's car pulled out of your drive. 

For a moment, no one moved. The others were breathing heavily, their faces sharp with disgust. 

Then, the exhaustion hit. Full force. The emotional wreckage of the past forty-eight hours crashed over your body, dragging you under. Your arms weakened, struggling to support Hana’s weight as she fussed against your hold. 

“Y/n,” Heeseung said, already moving towards you.

Someone—Niki, you determined tiredly—took Hana from your arms as you stepped into Heeseung’s embrace, collapsing against his chest. In relief or exhaustion, you weren’t quite sure. 

“I’m so sorry,” He breathed. “I’m so sorry— I tried to call you. They took my phone, they wouldn’t let me. I got your messages when they gave it back, and your voicemail, I— Are you okay?”

You shook your head, whimpering lightly. You could feel the heat of his heart at the base of his throat, pounding against your cheek. “No,” You said weakly. “Heeseung— I thought—“ 

You couldn’t even get the words out. Your brain was practically mush, spent from the emotional whiplash of everything that had happened. His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into you like he feared you might pull away.

“I know. I’m so sorry. I swear, if I could’ve been here—”

He pulled away, letting you go just enough to reach behind Niki to where Sejin was standing, yanking him towards you by the jacket. 

“Well?” Heeseung said, frowning at his manager. 

Sejin gave him a sideways look before rolling his eyes and sighing. He looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, y/n. I was the one that texted you. I admit it wasn’t the most informative message—“

“It wasn’t informative at all,” Heeseung interrupted. “Like, not even a little.” 

Sejin pursed his lips. “Yes. It was poorly done on my part. I apologize for any distress I caused. Our focus was on keeping our team safe, I hope you can understand.”

You nodded, dazed, struggling to even remember what the text had said. All you knew was that Jace was gone. Heeseung was here. And you needed to rest. Immediately. Or you wouldn’t be standing much longer. 

The others recounted the story of getting there as you went inside. Of how Heeseung had reacted after getting his phone back, reading all of your texts, listening to your voicemail. 

How he’d demanded that Sejin show him the message he’d sent you, and then insisted that they come straight here. 

“He was freaking out,” Jake said, bouncing Hana gently on his lap. 

“We got stuck in traffic, and he literally got out of the car. That’s why he got here first. He ran the rest of the way,” Jungwon laughed.

Heeseung’s ears turned slightly pink but he didn’t deny it. 

“I was scared,” He reasoned, frowning as they continued to tease him. “You said Hana was sick, I didn’t know if she was okay— You said goodbye!! Like we were breaking up or something!” 

“Yeah, Heeseung’s worst nightmare,” Niki laughed. 

Heeseung shot him a glare but didn’t move his arm from behind you. If anything, he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t stand to be apart from you again, not even for a moment. 

“I was scared, too,” You sighed, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “I’m sorry that he caused so much trouble for you. And that you had to see all of that. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t—“

“No way,” Jake said immediately, voice firm. “None of this is your fault, y/n.”

“We’re just sorry that we didn’t communicate with you better,” Sunghoon agreed. “Sejin is…”

“Blunt.”

“Good when you need to smack someone’s crazy ex down. Not so much when you need to deliver sensitive information,” Jay said. 

A laugh escaped you, quiet, tired, but genuine. You felt your shoulders begin to drop, days worth of anxiety melting away. Being there with them—Heeseung’s sturdy presence beside you, the softness in the others’ voices as they cooed at Hana—healed something in you that, for a few days, you were sure might never heal again. 

Your attention drifted back to your daughter, to the way she was beginning to droop against Jake’s chest, her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt. Her lashes fluttered, torn between watching the toys in his hands and giving in to how tired she was. 

Yours felt similarly, your head growing heavier and heavier against Heeseung’s shoulder. 

He pressed his lips to the top of your hair. “Time to go?” He murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You nodded, grateful as he straightened to usher the others out. God, how you’d missed him. The soft attentiveness in his voice, how he always had his eye on what you needed. How he made sure you were the priority. Every single time. 

Part of you wondered how you’d doubted him in the first place. 

“Alright guys, time to head out,” He said. He clasped Jay’s hand, pulling him for a hug. “Thank you. For being here. Backing us up.”

“Always,” Jake said, lifting Hana carefully from his chest and handing her to you. “If you need anything, we’re here.” 

“See you later, y/n,” Jungwon said, rubbing your back affectionately. 

You hugged him, chest tight with emotion. You’d never be able to explain what their presence meant to you. How grateful you were to have them—all of them—in your life. 

They grabbed their things and slipped their shoes back on, shuffling out the door. 

“Dinner this weekend? Same old-same old?” 

You nodded, grinning. “Of course.”

You wished you could say you and Heeseung had some kind of heartfelt, emotional reunion when it was just the two of you. Filled with tears and happy kisses, mumbled apologies and promises. 

But you didn’t. 

You were out. Immediately. The second your body hit the mattress, shoulders curled into Heeseung’s chest, your head tucked beneath his, you were asleep. 

He stayed up for a while, unable to tear his eyes from your face, or keep his heart from racing at the feeling of finally having you in his arms again. 

His chest ached at the memory of your voice through the phone. How broken you sounded. How sure you were that he’d left you. You’d really believed he was gone. That you were alone again.

He would never forgive himself for that.

And if he hadn’t been sure before, he certainly was now: he was never letting you out of his sight again. At least, not for a while. 

He still had tours to think about. There were obligations he couldn’t avoid, stretches of time when the distance would be real, and difficult. But he wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Didn’t worry that it would create space between you.

He wanted to keep going. To do well. Not just because you’d always been proud of him—celebrated every success like it was your own—but to support you. To make sure you never had to worry about caring for your daughter again. 

Heeseung was serious about you. As serious as a person could be about someone else. 

And he was going to make sure you never doubted it again. 

[piastriprincess]

if  you  keep  it  just  yours ⸻ charles  leclerc  x  reader  .

featuring  charles  leclerc  ,  writer!reader  ,  fluff  ,  smau . author’s  note  requested  by  anon  !  i’m  sorry  it  took  so  long  but  i  loved  your  request  and  your  kind  words  ,  i  hope  i  did  it  justice  !  tried  to  get  this  out  today  in  honor  of  the  #chodium  .  this  is  my  first  try  at  an  smau  so  PLEASE  be  nice  …  i’m  still  not  sure  i  love  the  way  this  turned  out  but  nevertheless  we  persist  !  i  also  had  to  drop  some  ancient  charles  lore  in  this  …  rip  bawsixteen  we still talk about you .  anyway  please  let  me  know  what  you  think  and  if  i  should  keep  trying  smaus  …  i  promise  i  won’t  be  upset  if  you  hated  it  <3  title  is  from  paris  by  taylor  swift  (in  honor  of  her  owning  the  masters  again  !!!)

liked by emmachamberlain, dollyalderton and 27,054 others yourusername it’s official — i’m in my monaco era! paris will always have mon coeur but it’s time for a change of scenery. here’s to good beaches and hopefully better stories 🐚💌

user1 THEEEE modern carrie bradshaw frfr ⤷ user2 No bc I can’t wait to hear her stories about the Monaco dating scene??? user3 romanticizing your life is BACK and yn is leading the charge !! user4 already screaming at how chic this is. give me the essay collection immediately yourbff OMG I need to visit asappppp ♥ liked by author ⤷ yourusername missing you already ! user5 bienvenue à monaco! you will love it here :) user6 main character of her own european romance novel iktr  camillecharriere oh i want to be you when i grow up ♥ liked by author user7 This post feels like the opening scene of an HBO show I’ll binge 16000 times…

───────── ☆ ─────────

to: Y/N L/N your.name@gmail.com  from: Jean-Claude Ravello jean-claude@bellevue.mc subject: Bienvenue au Bellevue!

Bonjour mademoiselle L/N, 

Welcome to your new home at the Residence Bellevue — we are so happy to have you here! I am sure you will quickly discover that Monaco is a small place, but this building is even smaller. Please, consider yourself part of the family already!

A few quick notes to help you settle in:

Waste and recycling are collected on Tuesdays and Fridays. There are trash chutes on every floor, but the recycling must be taken to the bins by the side entrance.

Wi-Fi information is included in the welcome folder. I know you mentioned you were a writer, so if you should need a stronger signal, the rooftop lounge is a favorite quiet working spot for our residents.

Your neighbors are both longtime Bellevue residents, so if you have any questions about the building that I cannot answer (or you just do not want to ask me!) please feel free to reach out to them. Charles actually grew up in Monaco and knows the city inside and out so if you need any recommendations I am sure he would be happy to help. Sharing both neighbors’ contact information (with permission):

Laura (16A): +377 08 35 19 72

Charles (16C): +377 99 42 67 01

Do not hesitate to contact me with any maintenance concerns or general questions! Wishing you a smooth unpacking. We are delighted to have you join our community.  

Welcome home, Jean-Claude Ravello Building Superintendent

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

liked by jiatortellini, kikagomes and 31,652 others yourusername from me to you, a new essay on the unique magic of starting over and the way a stranger can start to feel like a story. up now on substack! let me know what you think xx

user8 “balcony boy” WE CHEERED MOTHER IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER ⤷ user9 Her writing isn’t just about the men she’s dating… ⤷ user8 okay congrats you read. do you want a medal?? should we throw a party?? should we invite bella hadid?? marlowetatiana Obsessed ! ♥ liked by author user10 saw the notif at brunch and opened substack immediately like sorry guys my parasocial internet bestie needs to tell me about her new crush user11 @ oprah @ reesewitherspoon @ pitbull GET HER A BOOK DEAL STAT! ⤷ user12 girl what is mr. worldwide going to do… user13 “Maybe Balcony Boy and I will never really meet. Maybe we’re destined to almost-know each other indefinitely… But still, there’s something delicious about the romance of the near miss.” WOW!!!! ♥ liked by author yourbff What did I say… I give it a week ⤷ yourusername it’s been ten days actually. this is what growth looks like! take notes! user14 i get her bc balcony boy has me in a chokehold too and i’ve never even seen him

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

OUTGOING AUDIO MESSAGE ▶‖ to: bestie • 02:23  •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။•

“Okay, so… I know I was supposed to check in after fifteen minutes and I’m really late and now I’m hiding out in the bathroom like I’m in a rom com from the 2000s because… I don’t know, I just — I just need a minute to breathe. [pause] I thought this was just a stupid little crush and I’d go on this date and get over it but he’s… Babe, he’s really sweet. He opened doors for me. He pulled out my chair. He called me chérie. He even laughed at my stupid joke about the bread basket! And he’s so — ugh. He’s so pretty and he smells so good, it’s rude. It’s actually unfair how perfect he is. [long sigh] But that’s not even the thing. Like, it’s not even that he’s cute. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit that he’s cute but — he’s smart. And funny. And curious, and he listens when I talk, like really listens, even if it’s stupid or rambley, and he asked about my writing and actually wanted to hear about it. I don’t want to jinx it or anything, but… yeah. I might be in trouble here. It feels like it could be something, you know? [pause] Okay. I really need to go back before he thinks I climbed out the window. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Love you so much.”

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

@ yourusername • instagram notifications you have (1) new follow request from @ bawsixteen !

───────── ☆ ─────────

liked by hunterh, oliviarodrigo, and 28,253 others yourusername life is looking pretty good lately

user15 is that a m-m-man ?!?!?!?! ⤷ user16 better question IS THAT BALCONY BOY ⤷ user17 It literally has to be! She hasn’t written about anyone else user15 okay i’ve gotten over my shock. who the hell is he bc his hand is fine as fuck rachsyme and you look even better! ♥ liked by author yourbff oh so we’re soft launching now… 👀 ♥ liked by author ⤷ yourusername yeahhhhh so i owe you SEVERAL voice memos user18 LOVERGIRL ERA user19 mother is boo’d up… congrats to whoever’s bouncing on it 😭 ⤷ user20 you almost got it sweetie. don’t worry. we’ll wait. bawsixteen Pretty flowers :) ♥ liked by author ⤷ yourusername almost as pretty as the guy who gave them to me :)

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

to: All Subscribers everythingiknowaboutsubs@substack.com from: Y/N your.name@substack.com subject: everything i know about falling

Everything I Know About… Falling

So here’s the thing about me and Balcony Boy (and yes, even though we’re actually dating now, I��m still not graduating to using his actual name with you all!) Somewhere in between our first kiss overlooking the harbor and him learning to make me blueberry pancakes just the way I like them, I’ve realized I can’t lie to myself that it’s casual anymore. 

And that is completely terrifying. 

You know that feeling when you’re reading a really good book and you look up and realize that you’ve been on another planet for hours? Where you’ve forgotten to check your phone, forgotten to be anxious about deadlines, forgotten about every single thing except the story and the words on the page? That’s what being with Balcony Boy feels like. Like nothing matters except existing in that very moment with him. 

I’m not used to staying present like that. My mind is like a summer storm, always pulled in a million different directions. I used to think it was a strength of mine: a skill, even. It made me a better writer, a better thinker. But that constant motion was also my shield — from boredom, from failure, from getting too attached to anything. Self-preservation disguised as independence. Emotional distance disguised as something casual. 

When Balcony Boy came into my life, yes, I liked him immediately. Six feet of tan, hot, shirtless neighbor. Let’s be real. Who wouldn’t enjoy that view? But somewhere along the way, he stopped being a charming background character in my life and started being the type of steady presence that made me want to slow down. To sit still. To listen. To trust. And that is such a new feeling that I can’t help but be scared.

Here’s the truth: I’ve dated a lot of men who liked the idea of me. Men who wanted to be a muse and then flinched when I spilled my truth onto the page. Men who liked a complicated woman until the complications weren’t cute anymore. Men who wanted me to be emotionally available for them, and who never really listened in return. All of that was okay, because I wasn’t staying still long enough for the pain to be anything more than a glancing blow. 

But Balcony Boy doesn’t just like the idea of me. He doesn’t need to be the story — he just wants to make space for mine. He reads my drafts and underlines all his favorite lines. He twirls me around my kitchen when I laugh and he holds me when I cry. He listens. He shows up, quietly and without spectacle. He brings me coffee and croissants when I’ve been writing too long and forget to eat. It sounds crazy, but I'm scared of this because if I lose it, for the first time in a long time, it'll really, really hurt. But Balcony Boy tells me I’m brave when I’m terrified. And for the first time in a long time, he makes me want to believe him. 

I used to think love was about dramatic gestures, but maybe this is what love feels like when it’s real. Not the fireworks (although there are plenty of those, too), but the foundation. Not someone catching you when you fall, but someone taking your hand so you don’t have to be scared of the jump in the first place. 

So here I am. Jumping, without hesitation. And if the fall kills me, at least I’ll have had the pleasure of doing it with him. 

yours, y/n xx

next week: everything i know about long-distance - on dating someone whose job takes them away more than you’d like, and learning to miss someone properly.

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

liked by bawsixteen, rachelchinouriri, and 29,311 others yourusername so in love that i might stop breathing, drew a map on your bedroom ceiling

user21 mama… mama a man behind you ⤷ user22 the launch is getting harder and harder user23 starting the investigation into balcony boy’s identity. james bond has nothing on me yourbff Happy looks sooooo good on you babe ♥ liked by author  user24 the note OH LET ME KILL MYSELF !!!!!!!!!! hunterh beautiful girl! ♥ liked by author user25 this has gone on long enough WHO IS HE ⤷ user26 She’s allowed to keep it private for as long as she wants! ⤷ user25 "keep it private" blah blah blah consider i’m living vicariously through her and i want to know :) ⤷ user27 that's definitely a ferrari he's driving in slide 3... bawsixteen Belle chérie ♥ liked by author user28 oh i just KNOW balcony boy is sooooooo fine

───────── ☆ ─────────

REDDIT: TOP POSTS TODAY r/yourusername • crossposted to r/formula1 • 3h ago posted by u/luvleclerc

hear me out… i think i know who balcony boy is!

okay i know this sounds insane but LISTEN. i’ve been reading y/n’s substack for ages and am also a huge fan of formula one. i’m absolutely convinced that balcony boy is charles leclerc. 

EVIDENCE so yall don’t call me crazy:

so y/n moved to monaco a few months ago, and posted this photo from her balcony. she’s never said exactly where she lives but you can see the harbor in the background and we know charles lives near there. and this story he posted the other day? like not to be a stalker but tell me that’s not almost exactly the same view. almost like they're neighbors... also the timeline of her moving to monaco almost perfectly matches when charles started posting less on socials!!!

then we get into the balcony boy content, which if you haven’t read… oh my god. y/n’s writing is so beautiful that it doesn’t even make you feel bad about being painfully single. balcony boy literally feels like a romcom hero come to life. she doesn’t drop a ton of personal details about him but here’s what she HAS said:

“Some people flirt with their eyes and their smile. Others, apparently, do it by playing you a piano étude at golden hour, notes drifting on the sea breeze like a love song.” … guess who else FAMOUSLY plays piano????? charles marc hervé perceval leclerc.

balcony boy is genuinely curious about her writing and reads all her essays. this is exactly how charles is in interviews - always engaged and thoughtful with questions.

balcony boy is fine with being written about and isn’t bothered that y/n is somewhat well known. sounds like a person who already knows how it feels to be in the spotlight!!!!

“Dating a man who’s gone every other weekend means learning to say goodbye. But even when he’s on the other side of the world, he never makes me feel like he’s far away.” F1 CALENDAR HELLO…

mentioned that balcony boy grew up near where they live (“knows the streets of this place like the lyrics of his favorite song”). prince of monaco!!!! i rest my case!!!!

one last thing: her most recent posts are totally a soft launch and the guy’s hair in the 1st slide looks EXACTLY like charles's. plus there’s this comment from someone called @ bawsixteen about the flowers like he gave them to her? i checked the account and it’s private with no profile photo, but the display name says CL. cl… sixteen… it CAN’T be a coincidence!!

⬆ 16.1K ⬇  •  🗨 897  •  ➦ SHARE

TOP COMMENTS u/f1gossipgirl • 3h ago  this is the most unhinged thing i’ve ever read but you’ve convinced me ⬆ 3.4K ⬇

u/fromthedeskof • 48m ago NOOOOO PLEASEEE not my favorite microinfluencer i can’t have everyone finding out about her… she’s MY parasocial bestie ⬆ 2.5K ⬇ ⤷ u/albonnation • 11m ago it's too late she has wag allegations :( she’s about to blow up ⬆ 332 ⬇ ⤷ u/everythingyn • 9m ago rip to our cozy lil substack community, she will be missed 💔 ⬆ 597 ⬇

u/BeanbagGreg • 1h ago  This subreddit is focused on racing. Stick to discussion of driving please ⬆ 1.7K ⬇ ⤷ u/piastriwdc • 26m ago literally no one asked you to read this… how many times do we have to teach you this lesson old man? ⬆ 4.8K ⬇

u/romanticrealist • 35m ago  ok grandma let’s get you to bed ⬆ 992 ⬇ ⤷ u/sallyrooneyluvbot • 6m ago Literally like as if she would ever date an athlete?? Be so fr ⬆ 81 ⬇ ⤷ u/landoleclerc • 2m ago um have you SEEN charles leclerc? don’t you ever speak on my goat like that ⬆ 133 ⬇

u/charlesdefender • 2h ago  wait she’s sooooo pretty what’s her instagram ⬆ 689 ⬇

SEE MORE...

───────── ☆ ─────────

@ yourusername • instagram notifications you have (8,692) new follow requests from @ leclercwdc, @ charloslover, @ f1ella and others !

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

───────── ☆ ─────────

liked by charles_leclerc, bawsixteen, and 95,214 others yourusername privacy sign on the door… taking balcony boy offline for now xx

charles_leclerc Je t’aime ♥ liked by author

comments have been limited on this post

[marigold-hills]

Regulus reads the ransom letter over French toast. There’s a half-grapefruit waiting for him, a cup of aromatic coffee, and a pot of Darjeeling. By all accounts, it’s the perfect breakfast.

Dear Lady Black, the letter reads, in a cursive written by someone who can’t write in cursive, I am sorry to say I have abducted your son, Master Regulus Black. Don’t worry, he is perfectly safe and will remain so, however if you would like to… the letter continues in such a manner. Even Regulus isn’t sure if he’d been kidnapped (sorry, abducted), or if he has simply popped out for a day with an old friend. There is only a vague mention of ransom – never mind the amount – and the man had signed with his full name.

“James Potter?”

“Yes?” the man – James – responds. Perks up.

“That’s really your name? And you put it in the letter?”

“Seemed the polite thing to do.”

“Are you dumb?”

James looks somewhere between affronted and amused. Not how people usually answer to being insulted.

Regulus twirls the fork in his fingers, and it turns into a rather smart – albeit still silver – quill. He’s always been adept at transfiguration. James snags on the movement, takes in a sharp breath. A click of fingers and the parchment turns blank.

To Her Excellence Lady Black, Regulus writes, using his non-dominant hand to obscure his handwriting. The words are rendered in a non-recognisable, but still stunning cursive.

As you are by now no doubt aware, your son Master Regulus Black has been kidnapped. At present he is safe and well. Please see attached a lock of his hair as confirmation.

No physical harm shall befall him, provided you follow the instructions I give you. Should you not, his death will not be swift.

Do not, for any reason, attempt to communicate with the Auror department or any private agency.

Before end of the week, secure 20 thousand galleons in old currency.

The galleons must be placed in a large cigar box, securely closed and wrapped in white paper. Remain at home and alert until midnight on Saturday and await further instructions.

Regulus signs the letter with an unreadable squiggle in place of a name, then twirls the silver quill around his fingers – it turns into a sharp, simple dagger. He cuts off a lock of his hair from behind an ear, where the disruption won’t be visible. Vanity, as always, present.

James stares dumbly as Regulus hands him the hair.

“Secure it and put it in the envelope with the letter.”

“Why?”

“She can see my magical signature in it. Will know that I’m alive and you’re not just trying to extort money for a corpse.”

“Huh,” James looks struck with something. “Clever. Never knew you could do that.” He takes the letter and reads through it, promptly choking on his tea. “20 thousand? Are you insane?”

Regulus doesn’t respond. Changes the dagger back into a fork (and James’ eyes get stuck on that, again), and goes back to his breakfast.

“That’s way too much money.”

“And how much were you going to ask for?”

“I don’t know. Five hundred?”

“Five… five hundred? That’s just insulting. Are you trying to be insulting?”

“What?”

“You think I’m worth five hundred galleons? The heir of the House of Back? Five hundred?”

Regulus is furious. Not only has he been kidnapped (abducted) by a moron: the moron thinks him worthless.

“Five hundred galleons is a lot of money.”

“Sure. If you’re poor,” Regulus argues, “you want five hundred? Here,” he takes the cheapest ring off his fingers and drops it on the table in front of James, “this is worth about double, pawn it and keep the change.”

James twirls the ring around his fingers. “Very pretty,” he smiles, slipping it on, rubbing the little leaf motif engraved in the silver, “you walk around with thousands worth of jewellery on you? Surprised nobody kidnapped you before.”

“I thought I was abducted.”

James looks downright delighted by the answer.

[peachesofteal]

Sweet little librarian who works the closing shift and is always kind to Simon.

Simon who’s realized the world has pretty much left him behind, and all he can do post retirement is sit in his flat and watch mind numbing television or work out to the point of exhaustion in the gym. He doesn’t have social media, doesn’t even have more than ten apps on his phone (thanks Soap). The only computer he’s touched in the last decade is the desktop on base that he used to complete reports and other administrative things, or the banged up laptop they used to bring on missions.

So, he starts going to the library. He sets up at a table and reads books until his eyes bleed, pouring over decades of history because he pretty much refuses to live in the present.

That’s where he meets you. Or sees you, he guesses, since he doesn’t really talk much. You’re always asking him if he needs help or needs you to find him anything. You smell like vanilla icing, ripe strawberries and his mouth waters every time you appear at his side.

Sometimes you even sit down across from him with your lunch, scooping granola and yogurt out of a glass bowl, licking it clean by the time you get to the bottom.

“Hi.” You chirp, smiling. It stretches your face a bit, plumps your cheeks and adds a sparkle to your eyes. He grunts, but it doesn’t deter you. “What is it today?” You lean over, glancing at his spread of books and laminated papers. “Axis powers?” He stares at you. Watches your mouth and tongue work the spoon. He doesn’t answer, and you sigh. “You know, we never talk but you never tell me to go away so…” You trail off like you’re hopeful he’ll say something reassuring. He doesn’t, but you take it on the chin, and smile anyway. “Alright well, see you later then.”

He doesn’t know what’d he tell you, what he would say, how he would explain he’s bad and dirty and would drag you down to the pits of hell. Doesn’t tell you he can’t talk to you because then he’d have to keep you, and he’s not sure how to do that without snuffing the flame out, the one that he sees in your smile, the bounce in the balls if your feet. Doesn’t want to tell you he’d have to lock you away and he knows you’d be miserable.

He doesn’t say anything.

The following Monday, he catches sight of you in the children’s library. You’re sitting on the floor with a toddler, turning the big, bright pages, pointing and gesturing to the little boy’s delight. You look so… happy. So content.

Tectonic plates in his brain shift, and a new reality is born.

How can he keep you and keep you happy?

Easy. He’ll just fuck a baby into you.

He’s rough with it. Bends you over one of the desks tucked in the back after closing, shoves your dress up over your ass and kicks your legs apart. You struggle and cry, trying to bite, to scratch, screaming when he fits the head of his cock against your hole.

“Fuck shortcake,” he groans as he works his way inside, forcing you to take him inch by inch as tears stream down your face. “You’ve got such a good little cunt f’me huh?”

“N-n-no,” you wheeze, short of breath, and he kisses your cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he slides all the way home, shivers snaking up your spine when you clench, trying to take more, greedy for it even though you’re trying to fight. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Stop- please,” you rock your hips, but it buries his cock deeper. He grips your neck, pulls back and then slams into you, covering your scream with his palm. He licks your tears and you look at him in the mirror, desperation and horror welling in your eyes.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he grits, control hanging by a thread, hanging back for one second to make sure he holds your gaze before shoving himself against your womb, “you and the baby.”

[cherrygarcia-07]

Cat Fights // Spencer Reid🐾💗

summary: an outsider to the team witnesses spencer and reader arguing over who gets to pick up their baby, except it’s not quite what he thinks.

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

genre: idk man this was just cute and funny to me

content: established relationship, not serious bickering, a glimpse of domestic! spencer

word count: 0.9k

masterlist

——————————————————————————❤️——————————————————————————

It had been a long case and the team were all exhausted, slumped in chairs in the police precinct while they waited until it was time to leave for the jet home. One of the Chicago police officers entered the room carrying cups of coffee, much to everyone’s delight as they perked up in their seats eager for the bittersweet boost of caffeine. Silence stretched over the room, everybody too drained to even think of anything to say- that was until your voice broke through the empty atmosphere as you turned to your boyfriend.

‘When we get back would you mind taking over my paperwork so I can go and get Bella from the neighbour a little earlier?’ You asked before murmuring a thank you to the police officer as he handed you your coffee.

Spencer’s brows furrowed for a split second before he answered, ‘why can’t we just pick her up together when we’re finished?’

‘No, Spence, you know she won’t sleep in her own bed if we’ve been away for too long.’ You took a long swig of your coffee.

‘What’s the harm in letting her into bed with us? It’s nice after being away from her. Beneficial, in fact. There’s been numerous studies on the effects of-’

‘She’s gotta learn sometime, honey.’ You sighed, cutting him off because you knew you were too weak in your tired state to defend yourself against his rambling that always made you crumble.

The officer chuckled as he took a seat across the room next to Rossi to discuss the prior case, but he kept his eyes on the two of you, somewhat amused.

Spencer took a sip of his own drink, reaching into his bag for a book to read while he spoke. ‘She’ll be fine for a couple hours more. We left her with plenty of toys to keep her busy, anyway.’

‘But you know they only last her so long before she misses us and starts getting antsy and acting out. The neighbour’s been so kind to look after her again, I don’t want Bella giving her any trouble.’ You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you watched him flick through his book at lightning speed. ‘I’ll just pick her up, you’ll get through the paperwork much faster than me anyway. Besides, I bet she’s missed me the most, she’ll be happy to see me.’

At this, Spencer slammed his book shut and practically threw it onto the table, mouth hanging open as his eyebrows furrowed once again.

‘You? Please, we both know she always misses me the most. Actually, maybe I should go pick her up early-’

‘Yeah? What makes you say that, genius?’ You interrupted, scoffing at his audacity.

A smug look washed over his face as he placed his cup of coffee next to his haphazardly discarded book. ‘Contrary to popular belief,’ he began, accusing eyes scanning the team around you both, ‘I’m actually the fun parent. You’re far too strict with her, I give her extra snacks throughout the day.’

Crossing your arms over your chest, you narrowed your eyes at him. ‘Yes and that’s why we were scolded at her last appointment, doctor.’ Sarcasm dripped off of that last word as it left your mouth.

‘Ah yet when we get home whose lap is it she curls up on while I read to her?’ Spencer picked his book up in one hand, mischievously waving it in the air with a smirk, earning a light laugh from the officer who was still watching. ‘If one of us is picking her up, it should be me.’

‘You’re not even her real father, Spencer.’

At this, the officer’s wide smile abruptly dropped, alarmed by the harsh words he’d just heard and worried that this seemingly innocent domestic dispute was quickly souring. His eyes frantically darted around the room, expecting a member of your team to step in but he was baffled to find not one of them even remotely phased, not even reacting as they each focused on their own things. On edge, he turned his gaze back to the two of you.

‘How dare you, and after I’ve graciously opened up my home and accepted Bella as my own.’ Spencer tutted, shaking his head with one hand dramatically clasped over his heart.

‘Well I’m her mother, and what I say goes.’ You shrugged, slamming your own coffee cup on the table for emphasis as you rose to your feet and began heading out of the room with Spencer following in tow.

It was Spencer’s turn to scoff as he retorted, ‘well don’t call me when she’s refusing to eat because you won’t make her food how she likes it.’

‘Excuse me for actually having our babies’ dietary needs in mind. You’re supposed to be a doctor, mind you.’ A grin pulled at your lips and you couldn’t hold it back from spreading across your face.

‘I know but I just can’t say no to that little face of hers,’ he cooed, a small pout on his lips and your voices began to fade as you got further from the room, ‘it’s those big eyes…’

The officer allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief at the lightened mood, chuckling softly as he shook his head, turning to face Rossi beside him.

‘I take it Bella’s their daughter?’

Rossi sighed now, one of boredom as he’d experienced this argument God knows how many times before, and he replied- monotonously.

‘Their cat.’

-

[gf2bellamy]

Hi there!! Could you write about the moment Spencer realized reader was his everything? I think this sort of thing happens during a really mundane part of the day and it HITS him. Then shes staring at him, like, dude are you okay? I realize this is prob a bit vague but I trust you with this!! 

everything — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship, ( emotional ) fluff fluff fluff <3 a/n: hi hi ! i hope this is what you asked for :)

Spencer was sprawled across the couch, his head resting against the armrest as he read his book.

You watched him for a moment, your arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway, an amused smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t unusual for Spencer to lose himself in a book, but even you had your limits when it came to late-night reading marathons.

“Spencer,” you dragged out his name. “Are you done reading ? ”

He didn’t look up immediately, too engrossed in his book. You stepped closer, now standing directly above him, your shadow falling over the pages of his book. Finally, he blinked, tilting his head back to look at you, upside down from his position, and his lips curled into a smile that never failed to make your stomach flutter.

“Why?” he asked, though his voice told you he already knew the answer.

You pointed at the clock on the wall. “Because it’s 2 a.m., and I’m sleepy,” you said, punctuating your words with a gentle boop to the tip of his nose.

Spencer’s nose scrunched slightly at the contact, but his smile only widened.Rounding the couch, you finally saw him the right way up, his hair slightly mussed from how he’d been lying. You plucked the book from his hands, ignoring his half-hearted, protesting noise as you slipped the handmade bookmark, the one you’d gifted him after your second date, between the pages to save his place.The memory of that day flashed in your mind, his surprised, delighted grin when you’d handed it to him, the way his fingers had traced the stitching. Even now, the sight of it nestled between the pages sent a warm rush through your chest.

Spencer had pushed himself upright, his fingers flexing slightly in the absence of his book, but the moment you turned back to him, his feigned annoyance melted away. Your fingers brushed against his, and he let you pull him up from the couch with ease.

“Let’s just go to bed, pleaseee,” you whined, pressing yourself against him in a brief, clinging hug, your face buried in the soft fabric of his sweater.His arms wrapped around you instinctively, one hand smoothing over your back.

“Okay, okay,” he relented against your hair. With a small sigh, he pulled away just enough to guide you down the hallway, his fingers still intertwined with yours, his thumb tracing absent circles over your knuckles. Spencer flicked the light on in the bathroom with his free hand, the sudden brightness making you squint for a moment before your eyes adjusted.

“What were you reading, by the way?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped inside.

Spencer’s lips quirked up at the question, not because it was unexpected, but because he loved that you always asked. Even when he rambled about obscure historical facts or complex scientific theories, you listened.

“Just rereading War and Peace,” he admitted as he reached for your toothbrush.

You snorted. “Pretty sure you say that at least ten times a week.”

He chuckled, squeezing the toothpaste onto the bristles before handing it over. “Twelve, actually,” he corrected lightly.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you began brushing your teeth, leaning into Spencer’s side for balance as exhaustion crept back in. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep, and you swayed slightly, your shoulder pressing against his arm.Spencer watched you in the mirror, his gaze soft as he brushed his own teeth at a slower pace. A loose strand of your hair had fallen forward, dangerously close to catching a glob of toothpaste, and he reached over, gently tucking it behind your ear with careful fingers.

You caught his movement in the reflection and turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. With a mouth full of foam, you gave him the best toothpaste-grin you could muster, lopsided and ridiculous, and Spencer’s nose crinkled as he laughed around his own toothbrush.

And that’s when it hit him.

Crash was a better word.

His movements stopped. Completely.

You barely noticed at first, too busy spitting out your toothpaste and rinsing your brush before leaning against him, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. But Spencer hadn’t moved. His toothbrush hung limply in his hand, foam still in his mouth, his wide, honey-brown eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror.

The love, raw and overwhelming, spread through him like wildfire, burning away every coherent thought. It settled in his chest, made his heart ache in a way that was almost painful. It wasn’t just affection. It wasn’t just comfort. It was the kind of love that terrified him, not because he feared it, but because it was so big, so all-consuming, that he didn’t know how to contain it.

You had practically closed your eyes by now, swaying slightly on your feet as you rested against him, but even in your half-asleep state, you noticed. Spencer always took longer to brush his teeth, but this was different.

“Spence?” Your voice pulled him from his trance. His gaze flickered to yours in the mirror.

Finally, he spit out the toothpaste, rinsed his mouth, and set his toothbrush down with deliberate slowness. Then he turned to you fully, his hands hovering at your waist like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or memorize every detail of this moment.

“You—” His voice cracked. He swallowed, tried again.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “I what?” You reached up absently to straighten the collar of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his warm skin, but your eyes never left his.

Spencer exhaled, shaky and soft, as if the breath had been punched out of him. His hands finally settled on your hips, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of your sleep shirt.There was a long silence. You didn’t rush him. You just rested your palms against his chest.

And then, after a minute that stretched into eternity, he spoke. “I love you.”

A smile tugged at your lips immediately, automatic, because this wasn’t new. This was a phrase woven into the fabric of your lives, whispered against skin and murmured in the dark, a truth as constant as the stars. You opened your mouth to say it back, but Spencer wasn’t finished.

“Like so much,” he continued. His hand slipped from your hip, trembling slightly as it cradled your face instead, his thumb brushing over the curve of your cheekbone. “More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

His eyes, wide, earnest and devoted, searched yours, as if begging you to understand the depth of what he couldn’t articulate.

"Statistically, the human language has approximately 170,000 words in active use, but none of them—none of them—come close to..." His words trailed off as his brow furrowed in that particular way it did when his brilliant mind was racing faster than his mouth could follow. His fingertips continued their delicate exploration of your face, tracing the curve of your eyebrow, the slope of your nose, the bow of your lip , as if trying to memorize you through touch alone.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer.

"The human heart beats approximately 100,000 times per day." His thumb brushed over your cheekbone. "Mine...mine stutters every time you smile at me. And there are also roughly 37.2 trillion cells in the human body," his fingers ghosted along your jawline, "and I'm certain every single one of mine is wired to recognize you."

When he finished his small speech, he booped your nose gently, mirroring your earlier gesture. But where your touch had been playful, his was trembling slightly.

You stared at him, any lingering sleepiness instantly burned away. Just two minutes ago you'd been swaying on your feet with exhaustion; now you were wide awake.

"Spencer, what—" Your voice broke as you bit your lip, suddenly overwhelmed. The tears that had been threatening at the corners of your sleepy eyes now spilled over, tracing warm paths down your cheeks that his thumbs immediately moved to catch.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he mumbled softly, a slight pout forming on his lips even as his own eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Spencer Reid," you breathed between watery laughs, "you just made the most romantic declaration on earth and you expect me not to cry?" Your voice cracked as another tear escaped, this one catching on your smile.

His fingers followed its path, brushing against the curve of your lip where it had landed.

Your hands found their way to his wrists. "You literally calculated your love for me in cellular biology and cardiology."

"I was just stating facts," he murmured, a smile playing at his lips. His thumbs continued their gentle sweeping motions across your cheeks, catching each new tear as it fell. You brought his knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there.

"I'm not a genius like you," you admitted after a long pause, still trying to reconcile the enormity of what he'd confessed in your bathroom at 2 AM. "But I do love you so much it feels like..."

Your free hand came up to rest over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palm. "Like every time you walk into a room, my whole body sighs in relief. Like my lungs remember how to breathe when you're near. Like..." You hesitated, searching his face. "Like if someone asked me to define home, I'd just say your name."

Spencer's breath caught audibly, his fingers tightening around yours almost imperceptibly. In the golden bathroom light, you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion: "That's...remarkably precise for someone who claims not to be a genius." The joke broke the tension, and you both laughed.

"We should..." He gestured vaguely toward the bedroom, his usual eloquence failing him for once.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. "Yeah. Let's go to bed, genius."

And when he followed without hesitation, his fingers lacing through yours , you realized some truths didn’t need equations or calculations to be undeniable.

Love wasn’t measured in heartbeats or cells.

It was measured in this: in the way he reached for you, after baring his soul. In the way his shoulders relaxed the moment your head settled against his chest. In the quiet certainty that no matter how many late nights or early mornings awaited you both, he’d always be there, book in hand, heart in his eyes, waiting for you to pull him back to where he belonged.

[vrystalius]

Hashira men reaction to Reader slapping their ass

Hashira’s reaction to you slapping their ass.

Self-explanatory, isn’t it?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Tengen, Giyuu x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, fluff?

Length: short and sweet

Notes: Yes. I needed this lmao.

Sanemi Shinazugawa // Wind Hashira

He is angry, embarrassed, confused all at the same time while also yelling at you, because HOW dare YOU?

Sanemi is more upset at the fact that you managed to sneak up on him and how he trusted you to the point he was able to turn his back on you and expect nothing, and yet you broke that trust by slapping his ass, just like that.

His second reaction is embarrassment. Doing this in private is one thing, but in public? You better turn around and bend over because Sanemi has a foot to shove up a certain someone’s bottom.

And lastly, confusion. Why? Why him? Why here? Doesn’t this usually work the other way around? Isn’t Sanemi supposed to be do ing that to you? He wouldn’t do that in public though. Unlike somebody.

You and him will be having a serious conversation when you two get home.

—

Kyojuro Rengoku // Flame Hashira

His first instinct is to let out a small laugh before snapping his neck like an owl to look at who had done that. Once Kyojuro sees that it’s you, he chuckles a little more, but now more in confusion rather than in delight.

First, he thought you might be joking or playing around, trying to tease a reaction out of him, because what other reason could be there for you doing so intimate both so openly and randomly?

Kyojuro also thought about how you maybe want attention and have asked for it in a very up-front way. Perhaps you want to make love to him right now, right here…?

He ended up never asking why exactly you did it, instead blurting out some stutters of sentences while his face heats up. You could’ve sworn that his sweat turned into steam and were able to watch it rise into the sky.

Kyojuro ended up slapping your ass a week later out of nowhere, trying to get the message across that he is in the mood for some alone-adult-time. You ended up slapping him across his face.

—

Tengen Uzui // Sound Hashira

It’s not a rare back and forth between you two. Sometimes it’s Tengen’s turn to slap you on the ass, sometimes it’s your turn. It’s almost always a joke or a tease.

Emphasis on almost. Tengen’s slaps sometimes are a little more harsh than usual, making you yelp and slap him on the arm in return. He lives to annoy snd get a rise out of his partners, so slapping you twice as hard seems like the easiest way to do it.

After one too many slaps, you decided to retaliate and slap him back, but he barely flinches, that bastard.

Tengen, thanks to his training and excellent hearing, can anticipate your attack on his ass and clench the muscles at the right time, resulting your assault barely having any effect.

You, Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru ended up tackling and holding Tengen down while everyone got their fair turn to kick his cheeks for revenge.

—

Giyuu Tomioka // Water Hashira

Shocked, flabbergasted, embarrassed, baffled. Giyuu’s face ran blank and colour drained from his face the second your hand met his bottom. You watched him literally turn into stone, not even confronting you for your action.

What is the appropriate response to getting their ass slapped out of nowhere? Giyuu is torn between asking what is wrong with you and crying about it. Instead, he turned to you and simply stared at you. Nothing came out of his mouth.

Confused about the lack of reaction, you decide to ask him if he’s okay, but he doesn’t respond to that either, instead eyeing you up and down judgementally before walking off silently.

You learned to never do that again to him. You’re still not sure up to this day if Giyuu cried afterwards.

💠

Author’s Note. Thank you for reading!

This was pretty much just for fun and shouldn’t really be taken seriously— but I hope you enjoyed this anyway! Btw sorry for taking such a long time to answer to this 😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33