#god the discussion of it is a date it is not but most importantly if you do it you'll get one! it's so domestic love it <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinkinggg about. race in adventure time

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 24.1k.

WARNINGS & TAGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns sometimes, angsty angst that angsts in the form a verbal fight, tears, unresolved feelings and denial, tension, a heartfelt conversations with bro and lots of yearning!, a time jump (three months or so), mingi and love being unhelpful but helpful at the same time, yeosang being a cutie pie and a little bit of his story gets mentioned!, the L word, confessions, apologies, mentions of body dysmorphia and body related insecurities, soft!dom yunho (he's a little bossy), switch!reader (oc hates to let him win i guess), reader has breasts and a vagina, mirror play, teasing, light choking, messy kisses and makeouts, masturbation (f), just the tiniest bit of voyeurism, praise kink if you squint oh my god, fingering, multiple orgasms, love making (who else cried), the post-sex convo and more feelings and dreams are discussed.

NOTES: hi everyone! WE MADE IT!!!!! here's part four of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH. after this, there's an epilogue/little part five to let everyone know sort of what happens after this + to set up the next story in the universe. i also just want to adress that one of you kindly suggested to change up some of the terminology i use in the warnings and for some other things in the fic itself and i thank that person a lot! but i also want to encourage you, if you feel something's missing or if i can do anything to be more inclusive in my stories, to let me know! i hope you all enjoy it part four of mbc, we've come a looong way and i'm happy on how this turned out. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 2nd 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox

masterlist - part one - part two. part three.

You dream about him. Every night. 

His mouth on yours and his hands handling you with care fill the gray matter of your brain and rots it. It fits you. 

A rotten brain for a rotten person. 

The scenario repeats in a loop in your head even when you're awake, alone in your house office, accompanied by staff at the main office building. It doesn't really matter what you're doing, who you're with or if the task at hand requires your full attention, Yunho still invades your mind and makes you feel like you're leaping, flying through skies and then falling, falling, falling, before hitting the ground hard. 

Because at the end of the memory, it plays what you did. 

The way you pulled away, the way you left him there without a proper explanation. 

You didn't have dinner with your brother, it was over nine o'clock at night. You needed an escape goat, a plan, an excuse to flee from the happiness you grasped with your sticky, messy, disgusting fingers. 

Everything you touch seems to turn to shit. 

So you can't touch Jeong Yunho even if you want to. 

You shan't, you won’t, even when he’s so close to you it takes a lot for you to hold back. He’s a message away, a meeting away from you. And his messages on your phone kept piling up this week until they didn’t. 

And now, as you watch him enter the meeting in a suit and tie, you do your best to pretend nothing happened between you even though it's supposed to. To everyone else's eyes, you’re still a couple. 

You’re grateful for that. You don’t sit together, you can’t sit together. Of course you can't, that would be very unprofessional. You can't voice your opinion about any decisions made by his team (or rather, his brother's team) today because that would look like you're doing it to either spite him or to be on your boyfriend's side, it would look like corruption! 

God bless the stupid societal and corporate norms. You won't even have to speak to him today, if you're lucky. You know he's shadowing his brother today, learning his way through these meetings you've been attending for years or at least pretending to do so.

There's absolutely no reason to speak to him today. 

Yay. 

Sukwon sits at your left, at the head of the table, and Yunho sits with his brother at Sukwon’s left. Neither your father or his are here today so everyone’s shoulders are a little less tense and the meeting is a quarterly one, which means people are going to be explaining graphics and reading numbers you have to stay focused on. 

There's things you have to write down, there's statements you have to whisper in your brother's ear so he can say them out loud instead of you. 

But Yunho looks way too good in his suit and tie and it's a little distracting. 

And he's looking right at you, too. 

You can hear your co-workers immediately gossiping about it, you can see your brother turn to you, then to him, then to you and you can faintly see how he raises a brow. Faintly, because you're pretending to read over some papers in front of you by the time he bumps your leg to try and catch your attention. 

You step on his foot under the table, he mutters an offended ouch and pinches your arm in retaliation, which causes you to stop pretending to eye the documents and turn to him. 

“Stop it.” 

“You started it,” he says and then Sukwon gives you that look that lets you know he knows something you don't, although it can possibly be like that because he's a clueless little shit. “Did something happen between yo—” 

Well, maybe not as clueless. Good thing you wore great heels today, the face he makes as he's trying to pretend that the sharp end of your Louis Vuitton is not stabbing him in the leg feels like a victory. 

“Keep quiet, the meeting is starting.” 

Oh, how you love winning. 

The thing is, you can't even enjoy it now. Yunho’s face pops up on your mind again and it serves as a reminder of just how close he is. 

As someone from the sales team starts their presentation, your eyes drift to Yunho in a way that feels oddly familiar. 

There, trying to stay upright even though you know he's zoning everything out, there's this memory from your junior year in highschool that never tortured you the way it does now. 

Although he's always been very tall, Yunho used to sit near the window, in the second row of the classroom you both shared that year. Not his decision, certainly whoever made that decision was not the sharpest tool on the shed because all he did was look out of the window and close his eyes when the teachers were not paying enough attention to him. 

And you used to stare at him just like you're doing now. Through the corner of your eye, with your back straightened and ninety percent of your attention on the topic at hand. He held the other ten percent, tenderly, softly, without realizing what he was doing. 

Just like he held you that night. 

At the time, you wondered what went on in his head every time he drifted away from the class. New ways of making your life impossible? A new insult to your integrity, maybe? Highschool Yunho was everyone's dream but, for you, he meant nothing but nightmares and headaches. 

Nothing has changed much. 

But instead of wondering if he's thinking about new ways of pestering you with his presence, now your heart races at the possibility of him thinking about the kisses you two shared last week. 

You hope no one notices the sudden shift on the chair or the gulp you make to keep your emotions buried deep down inside of you, where no one can reach them. 

Trying to regain focus and ignore Yunho completely, you look at the projected graphics in front of you. The person doing the presentation turns to the next slide as soon as you're beginning to understand what the hell they're talking about. Surprisingly, your brother turns to whisper at you about it. 

“The new company sales are lower than expected.” 

When you turn fully to him, you can see he's biting his cheek in concerned concentration. You want to roll your eyes. 

“I told dad no one would care about this company and you were the one who approved for us to go forward with it.” 

“I know.” 

“Dumbass,” you whisper, scrunching your nose and turning to the presentation again but your brother nudges you slightly and you have to look at him again. 

Only for your eyes to completely bypass him and land in Yunho. 

God fucking damnit.

Is this what having a crush is like? Is tortuous and you hate this even more than when you couldn't stand seeing his face out of pure annoyance. 

This is why you probably never had a crush on anyone before. But it's strange, because it doesn't feel like something new. Yes, Yunho attending meetings is new but the feeling is familiar and grossly nostalgic of something you feel like you left behind.

And now has come back in full force. 

You never had a crush on Yunho, at least not that you know of. 

But this feeling is telling you otherwise and it's maddening and disgusting and— 

“Something definitely happened, hm?” 

Eyes flicking over your brother's sudden concerned expression, you push back on the seat and sink in it a little. This way, when you look up to him, Yunho is nowhere in sight. When you speak again, you make sure only Sukwon hears you. 

“We can save it, don't worry about it. I'll write up a proposal of how we can market the concept of the company in a way that it at least piques people's interest.” 

Your brother huffs, unsatisfied with your deflection and the way you visibly close up at the mere thought of telling him if something did happen between you and Yunho. 

But he says nothing. It stings that you know he's going to leave it at that, the support you're supposed to have slipping through your fingers as you do your best to keep your feelings to yourself. It's not his fault, not really. 

He doesn't know any better. 

You don't know any better, either. 

But your focus on the meeting comes back and you end it with thirteen pages of virtual notes and a list of things you need to do today to keep this shitshow of a company afloat. 

There's a split second when you get out of the room that you feel Yunho’s eyes on you. You're afraid he's going to take the opportunity to talk to you, so you look up and around trying to find something, someone you can use as a distraction, as a shield. 

But then there's like four pairs of hands dragging him away and you see that annoyed glint in his eye, usually reserved for you, as they turn him around and away from you. 

Yes, of course they wouldn't let him speak to you right now. He's shadowing his brother, he has important things to do! 

Yay. 

You ignore the beating of your heart as you move quickly through the halls. Sukwon and Gunho are already aiming for the elevator so you opt for the stairs, knowing you won't have to speak to anyone at all if you get to your office like this. 

Well, Sukwon's office. You have yours on a lower floor, not as unnecessary space-taking as his, but you usually work there because you enjoy the view. 

So when you finally close the door behind you and the view is blocked by thirty piled up boxes you start thinking that the universe is upset with you. Is this your karma? Everything and everyone against you just because you walked out of a kiss before making a mistake? 

Is not like Yunho cares that much about you anyway!

Huffing, you look around the room until your eyes land on that stupid tree you started painting when Sukwon told you he wanted to redecorate his office. Its branches extend just a little more than what you remember and there’s a part of it that was unfinished the last time you saw it. You can only assume either Seonghwa or your brother had something to do with it.

Which sucks. 

Because you’re so painting over the stupid tree one day. 

You stare at it while your mind wanders. Head slowly filling up with noise, you finally feel at ease when your thoughts are nothing but work: You need to write up a proposal to that stupid vintage-esque focused company to see if there’s some salvation for it. You need to speak with marketing, get one of them to go along the process with you. You need to sit down with your brother and kindly tell him to never allow something like this to ever happen again. 

Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t. 

And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other. 

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work. 

Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip  with a literal mannequin resting against the wall. 

You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company. 

Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down. 

“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.” 

“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.” 

“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.” 

“And Sukwon hyung doesn’t mind?”

“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already. 

But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him. 

You gulp. 

He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little. 

“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?” 

Shit. 

“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?” 

Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?” 

Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”

“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?” 

Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.” 

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time. 

“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.” 

“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—” 

You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.

“What happened was a mistake.” 

Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close. 

“What?” 

“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again. 

You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.” 

You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse. 

“Y/N.” 

There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there’s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever. 

And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration. 

He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt. 

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

Your heart drowns deeper, your resentment towards the situation grows branches like the tree on the wall. They hug your pride and your ego, they poke you on your side for reciprocating Yunho’s feelings just a little. 

Well, a lot.

“You think?” You ask him and your voice sounds far away. He nods. You stand up from the chair, hand squeezing his before letting drop. “Stop thinking then.” 

His eyes closing shut and his jaw tensing is the last thing you see before you busy yourself with the boxes against the window. You pick up two at a time, heavy and the cardboard smelly as you walk to the other side of the office, away from him. 

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” 

You sigh “So am I, Yunho. You don’t like me, you liked that I kissed you.” 

“Oh, I forgot you know exactly what goes through my mind and my heart, thank you for the remainder!” 

Looking at him over your shoulder, you drop the boxes against the corner wall “Lower. Your. Voice.” 

“No, no. Because that’s not an appropriate response to what I just told you!” He walks towards you and you meet him halfway, heart beating with annoyance at the way he’s speaking to you. He towers over you again, jaw clenched and voice a mere murmur when he speaks again “You have no say in what I feel, how I feel it, when I feel it.” 

“I know I don’t, you idiot. I was just providing you with a bit of perspective.” 

“Perspective?”

“What do you like about me?” Chin up and nose scrunched in a way it only does when you’re really angry, you insist “Why now? Why do you suddenly care? Is it out of pity? Is it because it’s convenient, because we’re already pretending? Is it because you want to fuck me?!”

“Watch it, Y/N.” His tone is laced with clear offense at what you offered just a second ago. 

“You don’t like me,” you start, shaking your head, “you can’t like me.” 

“Why not?!” 

He’s breathing hard, walking backwards, offering up his palms to the sky and looking around the room like any of that is going to give him an answer to his questions. 

“Why not?” He repeats and there’s that hurt in his voice that, for some reason, makes your eyes water. Are you having a panic attack? A heart attack? Everything hurts. Liking Yunho hurts, wanting him hurts. He comes back, his eyes searching yours even though you can’t do anything but cast them down, to your shoes and his shoes and the boxes and the carpet “Why can’t I like you, princess? What’s not to like? What kind of self-deprecating ideas do 

you have in your head that makes you think I can’t care about you like that?”

Shaking your head again and closing your eyes, you are barely able to stifle a sob and force your tears back. You want to tell him that that’s not the reason but you would be lying to him if you did. 

That’s part of the reason. 

Behind the whole letting your mother’s win argument, there’s an undeniable amount of self hatred that can’t let you feel like there’s any truth behind his words. 

Why would he like you? Why would he care about you? 

Your hands are dirty and sticky and your being is way too clumsy, so everything you love drops and breaks and turns to dust before your eyes. The fact that there’s this whole fake relationship deal in the middle of it and you can place the blame on your mothers is a blessing in disguise. 

It’s a weapon you can use. 

Even if you don’t want to: His hands are cradling your face, his forehead dropping against yours and drawing a surprised gasp out of you because you didn’t even feel him get him close. 

“I like you, I care about you,” there’s certainty in his tone, like he made up his mind, like he’s confirming his feelings to both you and himself, “I… I—” He takes a breath when you open your eyes and beg him to not say what you think he’s about to say. He takes the hint. “Do you not like me back, Y/N? Are you trying to… Is that what’s happening?” 

You say nothing, but swallow back your feelings and brace yourself on his forearms, nose budging his as you move a little. 

He reads your silence wrong “Y-you do?” 

You think it matters if you do or not. Your heart is already breaking by the time the words are on the tip of your tongue. 

“We can’t,” you whisper to him, letting your tears wet your cheeks and squeezing his forearms when his thumbs start to move in trying to dry them, shaking your head to signal him to stop. As your eyes catch his, you prepare yourself for the gentleness you’re about to lose, with the care you’re about to push away for his own good. “Because if we do, they win.” 

You didn’t know your heart could break this way, as you watch his expression morph from confusion to pain to utter, genuine anger. It’s the same face he made last week, in your living room, as he yelled at his mother for even daring suggesting that you two should be together. 

There’s a time when hurting Yunho brought you some sense of vengeance, a time where you considered it payback for being that person literally planned and made for you. 

Now, you want to hit your head against the wall for even daring filling his eyes with tears, for being the reason frustration descends and wets his shoes as he looks down. 

“Oh.” 

He lets you go and you miss it. You immediately want to take your words back, push him closer to you, hug him, kiss him, whatever it may be to keep him next to you.

You start to mourn the loss of the bond you were able to form with him right away. 

And it hurts. 

He nods again. And it hurts. “Oh, that’s what this is about.” 

It fucking hurts. When he laughs, hands on his face as he wipes his tears away, you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

“And you don’t care about me enough to tell them to go fuck themselves.” He says, a resentful statement that leaves his lips before a breathy laugh does. 

Opening your mouth, you attempt to contradict his words. That’s not true at all, he has to understand, he understands you, he— He raises his hand to stop you from speaking, he shakes his head like he doesn’t want to hear it. 

Like your excuses, even if he hasn't listened to them at all, are not worth his time. 

“I get it.” No, you don’t. “I understand.” No, you really don’t. 

But you say nothing. As he’s slipping through your fingers like sand, at your own doing, you just stare at him with sorrowful eyes and an apology on your teeth. 

He looks at you like he’s expecting you to stop him as he reaches the door. You want to, you really do. 

You don’t. 

“Thanks for letting me know.”

When the door closes behind him and leaves you alone in an office that’s not really yours, feeling like you’re not yourself, you finally allow the reality of what you just did to hit you. 

Hand shaking, you cover your mouth and let out a sob as you let yourself cry what you just lost. But, as you do, you remind yourself that you don’t really deserve Yunho’s care. 

You don’t really deserve his love. 

Hurting him is probably the easiest way out he has of whatever he thinks he’s feeling for you. 

Walking slowly to the desk, you wipe your tears away and nod to yourself. Yes, this is exactly what needed to happen. Good. Yes. What were you doing before he came in? 

You grab the mouse. 

Ah, the proposal. Of course. 

The noise comes back, louder this time. Unbearable and ear-piercing, it forces you to close your eyes and listen to the beat of your heart before you push the sound away. You can’t afford to crash right now.

You skim through your tasks in your mind and, as you do, the reminder of a little notification you saw on your calendar this morning, with Yunho’s name on it, is what finally lets the panic break through your senses. 

“No.” 

And you spend the rest of the afternoon typing your escape plan away. 

By the time your brother remembers he has an office, it’s dark outside and the proposal is

printed and in a folder placed neatly in the middle of his desk. 

He closes the door, raising an eyebrow at the way you’re resting your shoulder against the window behind his chair, the boxes blocking them all piled up in the corner you initially started moving them to this afternoon. 

“You’re still here.” He muses and you turn to him, scoffing at the obvious. 

“Well, somebody has to work.” 

“I was working,” he sounds a little bit offended, but when he passes in front of you and pulls back his chair to sit on it, you faintly smell whisky and cigarettes. “I was at a meeting in the gentlemen's club with Gunho.” 

“That’s hardly working, Sukwon.” 

Looking over his shoulder, he’s face to face with your unimpressed expression. Of course he went to the stupid club with Gunho, of course he didn’t do shit today. 

“Let me remind you that I am, in fact, older than you.” 

“And?”

“I deserve respect and zero questioning.” 

You hum, slightly amused this time. You know he’s goofing around, you know he’s hardly mad at the implication that you do all the work he’s supposed to do plus yours but there’s this slight worry in his face that’s unusual.  

“Is Gunho oppa okay?” 

Your brother frowns “Of course he is.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m— Why are you asking?” 

Shrugging, you turn away from him to look at the city through the window again. You can see the river and the buildings that encapsulate it perfectly and it brings you a strange sense of comfort everytime you zone out and just people watch those who feel free enough to walk along the bridge at this hour, with the cold and the rain and the mess that the leaves leave behind as they fall. 

“You look distraught.” 

“Well, you’ve been crying, of course I am.” 

Interesting. You didn’t think he could tell, which means your face is puffy and you look ugly. Great. 

“The mess in this office made me tear up when I got in this afternoon,” you say, swerving around the accusation with ease because there’s no way in hell you’re telling your brother what’s up with you. “I’m going to need your help when it comes to explaining that to dad.” And then you use your chin to point to the proposal sitting in front of him. 

“You didn’t have to do this today, I know sales are low but-” 

“Oh, that’s not it. That one is sitting on your email. This—” you take two steps, tap the front of the folder with your nails, “is a new thing. A thing he won’t understand nor approve unless you understand it and approve it.” 

And then you move back to your position by the window, staring at the lights and the buildings one more time without explaining anything else. When you hear the flick of the pages being turned, you know he understands how serious you’re about it. No space for debating, no time for complaining: you need him to get it done now, and so he will. 

Because your brother can be a lot of things but he’s not dumb. 

And he can read a room like no other except maybe you. 

Seconds turn into minutes and then the clock ticks and blends together as you wait, shoulder hurting by the time your brother lets out a heavy sigh. 

“No, I won’t approve this.” 

Definitely not what you wanted to hear. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You want to—” 

Defensiveness floats you, over-stimulates your senses and makes you see red at the rejection of your proposal “I want to expand our market, our clientele, our opportunities to keep this company on top. Can you relate?” 

“Y/N…” He scowls at your attack, at your tone “You’re running.” 

“I’m doing something for the company!” 

You think your roar is heard all the way to the first floor. Sukwon stares at you wide-eyed, mouth agape for a second before he closes it again. He has to fix his tie, his suit ironed for once as he takes the jacket off and discards it against the chair. 

Brat, princess, annoying little sister. You know that’s what he calls you, he has called you that ever since you were a child and in the most endearing way possible. You have yelled at him before, you have stomped your foot and cried and moaned until you got your way, until he agreed to let you do something. 

You have never screamed at him like this before, though. 

It shows in the way your chest rises and falls quickly, in the way he has to take a calming breath to not yell back at you. Your eyes are full with tears when he looks up and the crease of his brow disappears because, even though you both could be closer and understand each other better, he still is your brother. 

Your brother, who loves you and cares about you in his own way. 

It proves more difficult to let him see the real you, more difficult than what it felt with Yunho or with anyone else. 

So when the tears fall down your cheeks, you wipe them away quickly and pretend they were never there. 

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” he starts, calm, taking a step into your direction and raising his hand and you recoil a bit out of habit. He hesitates for a few seconds but then he’s squeezing your shoulder and pulling you into a tight hug that feels unfamiliar, unusual and weird until it doesn’t. You melt into the embrace because you need it, because it allows you to let go of your frustration and cry it out on your brother’s chest, “but you’re going to explain it to me whether you like it or not. And only then, I will consider saying yes to your proposal.” 

When you pull away to look at him, it’s with a pout and a scowl that draws a breathy laugh out of him. 

“Stupid.” He pushes you away a little before pulling you back in for a hug, “Always keeping things to yourself instead of letting me take the weight of it all. Stupid.” 

It takes a few minutes, but when the hug doesn’t seem necessary and your usual disgust for physical touch comes back into your system, he allows you to take two steps back and clean your face with the back of your hand. 

“Haven’t seen you cry since you were a child,” he whispers and you shrug, ignoring the fact that your heart stings at the comment. “What happened?” 

You tell him everything that night. 

Yunho hasn’t seen you in three months. 

Which, at first, came as relief. He didn’t want to see your face ever again after the things you confirmed to him back in your brother's office. Who needed you, right? He told himself his mother loved enough to understand the sudden change of heart, although she doesn’t exactly know what happened between you in the first place. 

Maybe he should’ve been honest when he got the chance, back in your house, the afternoon they told you both about the pr relationship. 

He was so close to telling the truth, too, when he walked out of the living room and into the hallway to clear his head and not scream at his mother in front of yours. It was there, at the tip of his tongue, and then his mother appeared in front of him with that spark behind her eye that could only mean one thing: it didn’t matter what the truth was, he was going to do this even if it killed him inside. 

Her words the next second confirmed it and he wondered right then if his freedom was worth the suffering:

“Either you do this or I’ll make sure you’re never able to dance again, Jeong Yunho. No more public university, no more friends, no more staying at the dorm, just your father’s company,” and he was about to refuse, yet again, she raised her finger as a warning. “I mean it. Y/N is perfect to clear the company’s image but if we can’t use her then we’ll have to work twice as hard as we do now to clear it.” 

And Yunho would rather fake an entire life with you than work for the man who single handedly ruined his life the second he was born. He didn’t hate his father, he thought about him like a concept he would never understand even when he desperately tried to, but he would never become part of his company.

Not in the way his mom suggested, anyway. 

He just needed to get through college, pretend to be interested in the family business and then land a freelancer job elsewhere, in a foreign company maybe, one who didn’t seem a threat to his father’s and then move on his own when he had enough money saved. 

Independence. He needed independence. Strangely enough, he needed you to gain that independence even though you meant the exact opposite to him, in his head. 

So he doesn’t know why he yelled at you that afternoon. To take it all out, maybe? He thought he hated you back then, too.

He had already agreed to it in the hallway, to his mom. 

He had already agreed to it the second he was born. 

Which is crazy because that’s not a normal experience to have. And if you were born a boy or him a girl, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. You’d be friends, like Gunho and Sukwon, and maybe he’d be forced to be with someone that wasn’t shoved down his throat for so long. 

Imagine his surprise when he kissed you back that night in his dorm. No, scratch that, imagine his surprise when he started liking you the second you showed your true colors to him. 

You’re not perfect by any means, but neither is he and it only took you allowing him to enter a little bit into your mind, into your heart, into your soul, for him to fall for you hard. Or maybe he always liked you? His mind didn’t allow him to sleep at all when you left, but it didn’t allow him to go and follow you that same night either, so the conundrum continued to torture him until it didn’t. 

After the fight in the office, he went home and sat in his childhood bedroom for a while. He had dinner with his brother when he came home to look for some documents in his father’s home office and then he went back to his dorm and stared at the ceiling until Yeosang came back from wherever he’s been disappearing to these days. 

He pretended everything was fine under Yeosang’s scrutinizing gaze but his friend and roommate knew him so much it only took less than a week for his sudden mood to reach the ears of the rest of the friend group. 

Not so subtle messages started entering his phone. He answered all of them and then used the excuse of being on the app to check your chat in case you sent a message and it didn’t notify him for some reason. He told them everything was okay, that he was feeling a bit under the weather. 

And he managed to convince them until he checked his calendar one day (the one he shared with you) and realized all foreseeable events had been cancelled. You had another meeting where you two needed to coexist, a company dinner with both your team and Gunho’s team that he needed to go to as your plus one and, surprisingly enough, a paparazzi session scheduled by your mother that you needed to first prepare to and then do. 

All of this was explained to him by his PR assistant. It surprised him to see that many postponed and canceled the app. It angered him to assume you canceled everything just because you didn’t want to see him. 

He didn’t want to see you either, but he had to. Weren’t you the one who more than once scolded him for not being professional enough? 

Ha! 

It was his opportunity to tease you about it. And so, when he was told to go to your brother’s office the next day, he had this whole speech ready to go. He would tell you to stop being so dumb, that a kiss and his feelings is something that can be ignored. That he needed you both to forgive and forget. 

Yunho needs to continue his plan, even if his own heart breaks in the process. And as he got down the elevator and walked the hall to reach the office, his heart desperately asked him to reconsider. Because there, while pushing the door handle to enter the space he dreaded to be a week prior, Yunho realized he wanted to ask you to be his again. 

When he found nothing but Sukwon on his chair, his conviction deflated and his ego sank to the ground. 

“Yunho!” Your brother sprung out of his chair, excitingly rounding his desk until he reached for him. Arm around his shoulders, Yunho raised a brow at the sudden animosity. “Were you expecting someone else?” 

“N-no.”

“Right.” 

He knew Sukwon could call his bullshit from a mile away. But it didn’t matter, he was already sitting down in front of him in the new couches facing each other. He wanted to point it out, but Sukwon beat him to it. 

“Your friend Park Seonghwa has amazing taste.” 

“Ah,” he breathed out a laugh, a nervous chuckle that made him gasp for air a second after, “yeah. He, um, was top of his class before he graduated.”

“I can tell,” Sukwon nodded and looked around, scrunching his nose in a way that reminded Yunho of you. “Y/N is not going to be available for the next few months.”

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I know you came here looking for her and we’ve known each other since you were born, Yunho, I think we can skip the shitty formalities.” 

“Hyung…”

Sukwon shaked his head, laughing with a relaxed sincerity that is such a Sukwon thing to do “There’s never not been a moment in my life where my sister doesn’t surprise me. I know you know her and I know you two have grown… Closer since this whole PR thing started but I don’t think you can grasp the full Y/N effect until you live with her, you know?”

He didn’t. Not at all. 

“She crafted in four, maybe five hours a project that would’ve taken me at least a month to sit down and write,” he explained and Yunho swallowed thickly, the lump on his throat going down. “And she wanted to get it done as soon as she got the approval from dad. So, I hope you understand that she couldn’t exactly give you a notice before postponing and cancelling your shared schedule.” 

Ah. So you didn’t want to speak to him at all. He scoffed, annoyed. “So she asked you to tell me?” 

“Nope. In fact, I’m pretty sure she would kill me if she knew I’m meeting with you at all.” 

Yunho blinked, confused. 

“Oh.”

“But I love you like a brother, Yunho. You’re my family, you’re her family even though she hates it and I realized recently that the four of us need to stick together. If everything else goes to shit, we’ll still have us.” 

The four of you. Including him and Gunho. 

“And as a family, we owe each other honesty. We owe each other loyalty and forgiveness and understanding. You see where I’m going with this?” 

“No,” he admitted, frowning a bit. “What does any of that have to do with me and Y/N? We don’t like each other, I know you and Gunho noticed at some point. It’s the way things are supposed to be.” The words had a bitter taste, but he pushed through them. 

He sounded like you.

Sukwon let out a sigh and he got up from his seat to squeeze Yunho’s shoulder “She comes back in three months, Yunho. She’s doing something from the company but she has to come back, right?” 

Yunho shrugged, pretending the information didn’t spark something close to hope inside of him. 

“Understanding. That’s what we owe each other: Love and understanding… And lunch. Your brother actually owns me lunch, feel free to join us.” 

Your brother is the weirdest guy ever. However, he realized that as Sukwon walked out of the office and left him to consider his words, that he was already planning on telling you when you came back. 

He missed you already, too. 

And yet, he didn’t find the courage to tell you at all. It tormented him, greatly, vastly. It consumed him through his classes, his dance rehearsals, his performances. It tugged on his heart the days he had to go to the office and pretend he cared about the company, and through his hang outs with his friends. 

They asked about you all the time. He had to remind them you were on a business trip, he had to make up a story, he had to tell them the details were apparently confidential when he didn’t even know where you were.

He could’ve just called you. He could’ve just asked you. 

His finger over your contact on his phone while he sits in Wooyoung's room during a house party, in the dark. 

He could just ask you. 

He–

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?” 

He drops his phone, the light of the screen going out as it lands down on the bed. 

“Holy shit, Mingi!” 

 A light turns on and he squints his eyes at the sudden intrusion. 

“You scared the shit out of me!”

“I walked in here like five minutes ago,” his best friend deadpans and Yunho pouts like a child. “You know, I’m starting to feel like I don’t mean that much to you anymore.”

That offends him deeply and he scowls before tossing a pillow in his direction  “What the hell are you even saying?” 

“I’m a patient person, Yunho,” he catches the pillow and tosses it back, “and I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what's been going on for the last month and half but you keep saying everything’s fine.” 

“Because everything’s f—” 

“No, it’s not!” 

Mingi is tired, he can tell. He’s been holding his worries inside since the day he told everyone about his relationship with you and Yunho feels awful. This is that part of his life that’s hard to talk about. He only explained to Mingi about the dreadful desire that his father has of making him work for him around a year ago and he’s known Mingi for so long at this point that it does feel a little like he doesn’t trust him enough. 

But it’s hard and he has kept his feelings and desires buried for so long he thinks he might’ve accidentally dragged his feelings for you along with it and now they’re all mixed up and scratching the walls of their enclosure, begging to come out of him. 

“I’m not used to push people around to tell them about their feelings but you’re my best friend and—” 

“I kissed Y/N.” 

Mingi stops mid sentence, blinking a few times before moving to sit beside him on the bed. Yunho hopes, as he faintly hears the music outside of the room getting louder and Wooyoung screaming something that he can’t exactly make up, that Mingi doesn’t think he’s suddenly confessing his afflictions out of pressure. 

Instead, the words came out of his mouth like he couldn’t resist telling them in the first place. After keeping it to himself for weeks, nearly three months, it finally feels like breathing a little. 

“O… kay.” He says as a response and it’s Yunho’s turn to blink at him in disbelief, Mingi laughs a little. “So you kissed the girl you like. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” Yunho gapes at the insinuation of Mingi knowing he likes you, except, it doesn’t come as a surprise. His friends are very observant, to his absolute horror they can’t be fooled. “Did she reject you? Is that what’s going on?” 

“No! I mean, yes. We… She kissed me first!” He defends himself, taking a quick inhale before cursing softly under it. “And then I kissed her. And then we kissed and she left and she ghosted me for a little, actually. And then I saw her in her office, that's not actually her office but her brother’s, and I… I kind of confronted her? And then she rejected me.” 

By the time he finishes his rambles, Mingi looks amused and a little worried. 

“You have to be in this… Fake relationship with her and that’s tormenting you, then? Because she rejected you?” 

“No, that’s not… We’re not— I am, we are still in the fake relationship, it’s just that she’s gone.” 

“She died?!” 

“What? No! No, she’s,” Yunho closes his eyes, laughing at the assumption because he knows Mingi said it to get that exact response in return, “she’s not dead. She, um, she’s on that business trip.” 

“Oh, that’s right! You told us—”

“I lied.”

“What?” 

His poor best friend looks confused beyond belief and that guilt of not telling him everything creeps in once more, threatening to shut him up until he reminds himself Mingi is trustworthy and deserves some clarity. 

“She is on a business trip, I just don’t know why or how or where she is,” he finishes softly, his lips in a line and revealing just how uneasy that makes him feel. “I don’t know where she is and I think that she left because I— Well, when she rejected me we didn’t end up on the best of terms.”

“So you think it’s your fault.” Mingi finishes with a nod, letting out a sigh a second after. “Well, it’s not.” 

“It kind of is, though.” 

“Yunho, it’s not. She’s a grown up, if she decides to run away from her feelings instead of facing them she’s kind of a dumbass.” 

“Mingi!” Yunho’s pushing him a bit with his hand on his shoulder before he can help it. 

“She is!” Laughing, his best friend takes no offense at the push and instead pushes him back, teasingly. “Remember that one party you had at your place, when your parents were gone on that business trip with your brother?” 

“Oh, that party?” 

“Yeah, that party,” Mingi nods, looking away for a second, something shining in his face Yunho realizes he’s longing for. He wants that to shine on him, too: the security that being with the right person brings you. “Love tried to run away from an argument that night, too. I just didn’t let her.” 

“Are you calling your girlfriend a dumbass?” 

“Yeah,” and instead of saying it with a grudge, the confirmation comes out of a place filled with, well, love. “She was a dumbass back then, at least.” 

“Y/N is not like that at all,” Yunho says after a bit, “she’s not a dumbass for running away from this. Our thing… It’s kind of different. We’ve been put in this situation since we were kids and we hated, like actually hated each other for a while. We treated each other so badly, Mingi, you have no idea the way she gets under my goddamn skin sometimes,” and despite saying it like it’s a bad thing, he can’t help but smile. Mingi notices this, too. “You know I don’t have the best relationship with my parents, right? Well, hers is way worse.” 

“Wait, you told us that this relationship was something to clear your company’s image?” Mingi recalls and Yunho feels another pang of guilt against his ribcage. 

“It is! It totally is, it’s just… Well, she was born a girl and I was born a boy and our parents have a very, um, old-fashioned concept of love and what it’s supposed to look like. It was decided a long time ago that we were going to end up together.” 

There’s a few seconds of silence before Mingi bursts out laughing so hard it drowns the noise from outside the room. 

“That’s funny to you?” Yunho asks, light-hearted and smiling at the sound of his best friend's laugh. 

“No, no, it’s just… Your parents are forcing you two together for some weird legacy, bloodline reason and you fell for the girl you’re in a fake relationship with and you’re supposed to hate?” 

Now that he hears it like that…

“Basically, yeah.” 

“Oh, San’s girl is about to have a field trip with this information.”

“Dude!” 

“What? It’s dumb! Y/N is a dumbass, you’re dumber for not just calling her and telling her you miss her and you’re both really fucking dumb for not telling your parents to fuck off. You’re grown!” 

Yunho sighs, shaking his head. “She doesn’t like me like that, Mingi.”

“Yes, she does!” He laughs again, covering his mouth with his hand once he realizes Yunho is getting annoyed with it. “Yunho… Ugh, is this how you all felt those few months where I was crying over Love?” 

“I didn’t feel anything.” 

“Because you’re a puppy,” Mingi’s shoulder brushes against his in a not so subtle way of teasing him and his eyes blank in pretend annoyance. “You are. And you’re a pretty great guy, Yunho. If she doesn’t like you back it’s not the end of the world.” 

Yunho nods, but he’s suddenly not as convinced as he should be. 

“And you’re also one of the strongest people I know, in here.” Mingi’s finger taps over his heart on his chest. “But you don’t have to carry your burdens on your own. This is all… It all seems pretty dumb to me but it must be really hard on you, hm? Especially since you want to live a life separate from your family, right?” 

That, Mingi knows. “Mhm.”

“And so does Y/N?”

“No, I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs back and his heart aches when he thinks about you and the way you’re treated home, in the way your mother has treated you in front of him. “I think she thinks she’s nothing without her family but I also think she was raised to believe that. They… Well, even her brother has a hard time seeing how fucking amazing she is.” 

“Is she?” Mingi drops his head to the side, doubt and a little prejudice on his expression. “Is she fucking amazing, Yun?” 

“She’s… She’s such a good person. Which is really crazy for me to say, because I thought she was a spoiled brat for a long time. And she is! But she’s also… She cares so deeply and she’s enjoys painting and she’s so great with kids and—” 

“And you have it bad,” Mingi laughs again, shoving him against the mattress with a push and standing up from the bed. Yunho laughs, recognizing the amount of pushing as tipsy Mingi behavior and nothing else. “So bad. Were you about to call her?” 

He feels called out and a little shy about it. He blushes and all. 

“Maybe.”

When his focus goes back to his phone, it’s when he hears it. 

And his heart drops to his ass. 

A distant curse and the sound of a call ending is enough to send his mind into a new, different spiral. 

“Was that…?” 

Yunho picks up the phone, checks the last call he made and your name appears next to the nine minutes and a half his conversation with Mingi lasted. 

His mouth runs dry, his throat closes as he turns to screen to show it to Mingi.

“Holy fuck.” 

“What do I do?” 

“That’s insane. San’s girl is going to have the best night of her life.” 

“Mingi!” He blocks the phone, tosses it on the bed and gets up to shake his best friend's shoulders. “What. Do. I. Do. Now.” 

Your heart still beats like the day you not-so-accidentally listened to a conversion you shouldn’t have. 

There’s the distant memory of your phone vibrating under your pillow at the hotel you were staying at for the night. It happened only a few weeks ago, near the three month mark into your trip around the country, looking for businesses worth the investment in little towns. That far into your adventure, you had met at least a dozen small companies worth every penny inside your father’s pocket, more so than the one’s already signed. You had met wonderful people who didn’t exactly know who you were and you had been treated so kindly it made the ache in your chest go away. 

At least for a little bit. 

So when you sleepily read Yunho’s name on your screen at two am in the morning, the sting of the pain was unfamiliar and the first thing that crossed your mind was that something bad happened to your brother. Or his brother. Or him. 

What other reason did he have to call you when he left that office hating you all over again? 

“H-hello?” 

Nothing. Just silence and maybe a distant melody, the ruffling of the phone against something. 

“Yunho? If you called me to piss me off I swear to God—”

“Holy shit, Mingi! You scared the shit out of me!” 

Mingi? 

There’s a deeper voice you can hear on Yunho’s end and that’s when you realized he didn’t mean to call you in the first place.

And you should've hung up there. But you didn’t and so you listened to their entire conversation and realized one thing: 

Mingi was right. You are a dumbass. 

And Yunho is even dumber, but that’s something you would have to rub on his face when you gather the courage to see him again. That day is not today, you made sure of it. 

You see, you’ve changed just a tiny bit these past three months. It’s not like you went to a spiritual retreat but by crafting that proposal while fleeing your feelings and the mess that you made with just one kiss, you came around something you never experienced before. Not fully, at least: 

Freedom. 

You spent Christmas and New Years all alone, with no one dear to you around and you saw the fireworks from your hotel window and you felt and suddenly you understood what Yunho sees in in sleeping in that tiny dorm with a roommate and a pile of dirty clothes in a corner, with no pushing their way into the room to pick his messes up and no one making sure he eats at the correct time, the correct meals and the correct porcelain for the day.

No rules, no conditions, just a place where he can be free and himself. 

You did all of that while also making sure you didn’t abandon your priorities. You went to sleep late because you wanted to and then you went to bed early the next day because there were no rules, no events you needed to attend to, no photographers asking you to smile.

There was no one to tell you that you looked fat after eating one delicious, non dietetic meal. There was no devil (your mom) whispering in your ear how everyone would notice the carbs, the bloat and the tiny zits. 

There was no one there to stop you from cutting your hair. And so you did. What once was kept long and straight in order to keep a traditional, clean look, now rested in waves on your shoulders,

It makes it so much easier to walk out of the shower, in less time too! 

And although your heart yearned for Yunho everyday, especially after hearing his conversation with Mingi at two in the morning when you weren’t even supposed to, it was the first time in years you felt happy enough to drop the mask, the pretences, the good posture and even the makeup. 

Yup, you went out without makeup three times! That’s some information that would send your mother into cardiac arrest at the very least. 

So now, as you try to move fast through a college campus that’s not yours, with a box that contains something you call an apology and it might not even be, your heart is beating with the same amount of strength just at the thought of all this backfiring. 

Because you’re not ready to see Yunho, not yet. You want him to come and find you, to come and tell you if he wants to accept you back into his life, under his terms, after you so insistently kicked him out of yours. 

You sneakily checked his calendar. You bribed your assistant, who bribed his assistant, so now his schedule for the week is in a screenshot on your phone and you have checked it four times to confirm this is a good time to be here. 

He has dinner with his family and yours (who don’t even know you’re back yet) at his house, on the hill, which is forty minutes away from his campus. That’s exactly the window of opportunity you’ve been waiting for since coming back. 

And you came back a week ago. 

You may or may not have memorized the code for the door from that only time you came to his dorm and so it’s not really a surprise when you quickly enter it and hear a screech behind you when you are busy closing the door. 

When you turn around, Yeosang is shirtless and covering his chest with his hands “Y/N!”

“Yeosang.” You say with a small bow, struggling to not laugh and turning your face away, looking at the postered up wall. “So nice to see you here, in your room.” 

“W-what are you… I mean how do you… Should I call Yun—” 

“No!” When you turn to him again, eyes wide with worry, he has a shirt on and his phone in his hand. “Please don’t… Let me do something real quick and then you can speak to him, okay?” 

You start to fumble with the box, placing it at the end of the bed and opening it up fast. You throw the lid on top of Yeosang’s bed and then get to work, pulling everything out. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I hate lying to my friends, Y/N.”

“And you’re such a great friend for that but you won’t be lying to him because I’m not asking you to do that.” 

“I wouldn’t even if you did ask me to.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” 

Okay, so you changed a little bit. Not a lot. 

You sigh, struggling with the placement of your gift/apology because Yunho changed his sheets and so the color scheme it’s not perfect anymore. 

“What’s all of this?” 

“Yunho enjoys dancing,” you start and you see him nod from the corner of your eye, so you smile. “He told me he did it to have this dorm but I didn’t buy it at all, and so when I was on my trip I… Sort of thought of him a little bit, not a lot.” You clear your throat, a slight heat creeping up your cheeks. “But I didn’t want to wait another day without giving this to him. I just… I can’t exactly be here when he sees it.” 

You finish, turning back to Yeosang and you realize you’re out of breath, nervousness creasing your brows. 

“Would you please let me know how he reacts to it the next time we see each other?” You ask softly, almost shy and Yeosang visibly relaxes at the tone. It makes you feel understood somehow and so you relax a little bit, too. “If you’re here when he gets here I mean, um, you are all dressed up.” 

When you point to his outfit, he seems to remember that he was, in fact, getting ready to go out when you walked in. His hair is wet but styled and all. 

“Oh, I was… I was just going to the club.” He points to a camcorder on his beat and you raise a curious brow, but don’t really ask anything. “I’m making a dance documentary for one of my classes. Yunho is in it, too.” 

That peaks your interest and he laughs, possibly at the way you light up at the mention of your fake-boyfriend-possible-love-of-your-life name. “He is?” 

“Yes, he’s… A big part of it, actually, but I go to this club to get footage and… You should ask him to explain it to you.” 

Now, at that, your smile sure turns sour because there’s no actual way of knowing if he wants to see you again or not. 

After all, he didn’t attempt to contact you after that phone call. 

You don’t know if he noticed that he called you, either. 

It’s kind of killing you inside, all the space you need to fill with assumptions instead of facts. 

“Sure, um…” 

“I can stay until he comes back.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to ruin your plans for the night, Yeosang. You should go and—”

“I want to see it. I want to record it,” he explains, looking over your shoulder and into the gift in Yunho’s bed. “He says he’s not sure, but I think he wants to dedicate his life to it, you know?” 

“To dancing?” 

Yeosang nods. 

Your voice sounds very small when you ask him “Do you think he’s going to like it?” 

He smiles, softly, endeared almost.

“He’s going to love it,” he assures you, “And your haircut, too.” 

You chuckle at that, touching the ends of it that rest on your shoulder “You think?” 

“Yeah! It suits you, actually.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.” 

This time, and after making small talk with his roommate, you leave Yunho’s dorm with a smile on your face instead of tears running down your cheeks. 

There’s exhaustion pouring out of Yunho by the time he reaches his dorm door. He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against the cool wood of it and lets out a sigh to collect himself. He needs to have the energy to take a shower, after all. 

It’s not as late as he expected it to be, the digital clock on the wall glows blue and neon and lets him know it’s around nine thirty. Good, that’s great. 

He misses you. 

And it’s hard not to think of you when he’s surrounded with people who know you, who bring you up when it’s time to talk about positive results for the company, or the time you organized an event for you mother because your brother had no taste to pick the venue or catering or whatever the fuck they were going on about tonight. 

It didn’t escape him that Sukwon glanced at him every time your parents brought you up and he wonders if it shows in his face just how much he longs to see you again.

He’s thinking about your face when the room unexpectedly lights up and Yeosang is standing on his own bed, in the corner, smiling like a creep. Yunho almost falls as a curse slips past his lips and he stares at his friend like something is deeply wrong with him. 

Because it is. 

It’s almost comical how breathless he is as he asks him: “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Hey!” 

“—Standing in the corner like a serial killer.”

“Turn around, Yunho.” 

“What?” 

“Turn,” he repeats, slowly, as he climbs out of the bed, the camera pointed in his direction still. “Around.” 

So he does. 

And what he sees… Confuses him. Until it doesn’t. 

There’s a few things on his bed: There’s some polaroid pictures lined up, different people he doesn’t know in them, all in different traditional attire and Yunho can see there’s inscription in them, the dates all read from early november to two weeks ago. 

There’s tickets to a competition that’s supposed to be sold out. He knows, he tried to get a ticket the second they announced it but couldn’t. The top dance teams are going to battle for some bucks but, most importantly, they’re going to battle to keep the dying scene alive. 

A book titled Why Dance Matters next to a golden retriever plushie with a suit that makes him giggle out of the pure weirdness of it. 

There’s a copy of grease with some signatures in the front. He can make out something that reads as Barry Pearl in it, he thinks. His mind reels at what that means. 

A cd in a clear case with a beautiful sunset and a building he recognizes immediately as the orphanage you took him to. Six silhouettes he can only imagine symbolizes him, Jaemi, Hyunjoon, his brother, Soyi and you. 

But what confirms it’s something you did, it’s the envelope that sits in the middle of it all. It's waxed and sealed with something that looks regal, elegant and, when he picks it up to see the seal up close, he smells your perfume. 

He turns to Yeosang, eyes watery, in request of an explanation. 

“Open it! I’ve been dying to read it but I’m a great friend,” Yeosang almost wiggles with excitement and Yunho’s eyes water a little. “Or so she said.” 

“She was here?” 

“Y/N?” His friend asks in return, weirded out. “Well, yes.” 

“When?” 

“An… hour and something ago.” 

“Where did she go?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He’s speechless, envelope shaking a bit in his hand as he pushes the need to run to you away. He doesn’t know what this means, he doesn’t know what the letter says either. His heartbeats are thumping on his ears and muffling Yeosang’s words a little bit. 

He needs to calm down. 

He needs to read the letter. He’s–

“You’re crying,” Yeosang turns off the camcorder, closing the screen and tossing it softly on his bed before taking a few steps in his direction. Concern is written all over his face, a little bit of guilt too. “I shouldn’t have let her in, right? I knew something was off with you but I had no idea that you two had fought or—” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Yunho quickly dries off his tears, shaking his head at his friend’s anxious apology. “I just… I missed her so much, Yeo.” 

“Oh.” 

“So fucking much.” 

“Yunho…” He closes his eyes and jumps a little a Yeosang’s sudden embrace, but he’s grateful for it. Envelope trap between his chest and Yeosang’s rib, he takes a bated breath filled with things he can’t quite burden his friend with. 

He remembers Mingi’s words loud and clear, but the only thing Yunho wants to do right now is find where you are so he can see you again. Hug you again. Kiss you again. 

That night, after he realized he had dialed your number by mistake, he had a full on breakdown in Wooyoung’s room and it took Mingi and Mingi’s girlfriend to talk him out of fleeing the country out of embarrassment, out of guilt. He thought back then he had definitely lost you, because the consensus the three of them came to was a ‘let her reach you if she wants to clear things out’ instead of a ‘call her and explain it yourself before she has the chance to reach out to you first’. 

Mingi said you had to at least prove you had any interest in making things right, in fighting to at least keep your friendship with him. 

As he opens up the letter, he immediately knows he should’ve just called you. 

He even forgets Yeosang is right beside him, looking away to give him some privacy to read your words without actually letting go of the embrace, just in case he needs it. Yunho knows this, he’s thankful, his legs shaking with need to go after wherever you are. 

And he’s about to ask again but, as he turns his head to regard his friend and explains the letter a little, he’s one step ahead of him. 

“She’s staying in a hotel, not her house.” Yunho opens and closes his mouth, about to ask him the name of the hotel when he shakes his head. “The luxury one in Itaewon. What? Did you think I would let her go without getting the information first?” 

Yunho shrugs, Yeosang clicks his tongue in disappointment, letting go of him and putting, at least, ten steps between the both of them. 

“She’s very talkative when she’s not with a big crowd, Yun. Now move.” 

“I think I—” He starts to say but stops midway, looking down at the letter and then at his friend again. 

Yeosang gives him a soft smile, the one he curves on his lips when he’s endeared with something, with someone. Yunho went clubbing with him once, he knows the smile very well. 

“I know,” he says in a murmur and then sighs like it’s a task to be around him. “Now, let’s go. We’re going to the same area anyway and I could use the ride. There’s the box.” 

In the car (one he ordered from an app, not his family car), his leg moves up and down and his hands tremble with anticipation and, as the imposing structure of the hotel comes into view while he stares at the window, he swears he feels at ease. 

For the first time in months, he feels like he’s home. 

And it’s all because he’s about to see you again. 

Yeosang is not a very discreet person. He’s soft spoken and he looks like he cares about his friend’s a great deal, but he has that clumsiness of a person who’s used to being transparent about things. 

He asked you if you just got home with a spark of hopefulness in his eye, like he couldn’t wait to clue in Yunho about it, like he knew what he was going to do when he read your letter and saw your gift. 

Yeosang asked you like Yunho had already forgiven you and that had filled you silly head with warmth and hope and expectations you shouldn’t have because, as far as you noticed, Yunho is not the most honest friend to have. 

So you asked yourself if Yeosang knew about the fight, if the rest of his friends knew. 

And you still told Yeosang where you are staying. 

There’s only one lamp helping with lighting up the bedroom, the city outside of it alive and busy like it always is. The amount of lights beyond the river bring you comfort, something familiar spreads on your chest when you take them in and you admit, for the first time in three months plus the week you’ve been staying here, that you love this stupid city even if it makes you feel trapped most of your days.

But here? In this space that you have made yours over the last seven days? You love it. 

Your hair is wet and your face is clean of any product. You told yourself to go about your night routine like you weren’t expecting something else to happen. That way, when it doesn’t because you feel that what you did is unforgivable as much as it is cruel, you won’t be as disappointed. 

So your face is moisturized and you have your nightgown underneath the silk bath this hotel provides and you’re totally not thinking about Yunho being in the same city as you, you are totally not freaking out over the reaction to your gift, you’re chill. 

You’re chilling, you’re cool. 

And the way your heart leaps when you hear a knock at the door means nothing, because you ordered room service like thirty minutes ago. It’s fine. 

He’s probably not showing up. 

So why the hell is he there when you open the door? And where’s your room service when you need it? 

“Yunho!” 

“Y/N…” 

The atmosphere turns weird and tense right away and you grab onto the frame of the door as he stares at you with indecipherable emotion in his eyes. Is he happy to see you? Is he here to curse you out? 

Is he mad? He’s totally upset at you. He is, he’s… Skinnier, just a little bit. His hair is lighter, too, like a brownish blond that suits him and his skin tone and he looks so good even if there’s dark circles under his eyes. 

You missed him so much. 

“Come in! Um…” You say after what feels like hours of silence, of you two just staring at each other with a little disbelief, opening up the room door wider and stepping aside so he can pass right by you. 

His cologne makes you a little dizzy, drives you a little crazier but there’s not enough time to focus on that because he has the box you left earlier in his dorm in one hand and your letter in the other. 

You close the door, taking in a little calming breath that does nothing to appease the erratic beat of your heart. 

The eighty two square meters of this room suddenly feel like ten and when he puts the box down on the coffee table of the immediate tiny living room space of this suite, you feel like it’s over. 

He turns around, a hand on his hip and the shade that the lamp casts on him doesn’t allow you to determine if he’s clenching his jaw or not, if he’s upset or not, if he’s—

Yunho raises his hand, the one holding your letter. 

“What’s this?” 

Oh, he’s so upset. Okay, good, you foresaw this the moment you decided to give him something. It’s okay, you tell yourself as you walk the steps separating you and take the letter from his hand, you can deal with this. 

And, although you have changed a little in the months you didn’t see him, there’s a long way to go before your defensiveness stops being the only way you know how to approach a situation targeting you and your ego. 

“If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just thrown it away or burned it, Yunho, you didn’t have to come all the way here—” 

“Read it to me.” 

You look up at him, blinking once and then twice at his request. 

“Didn’t you—” 

“Princess,” he says, letting out a tiny breath in between his words, “read it to me. Please.” 

Now that you’re physically closer to him, you can pick up this gentleness in his features that you know well. It’s the same expression he had back in the orphanage, when Jiwoo took Jaemi in her arms and he was left staring at you with his cheek pressed on his forearm while he rested on the table. You think about that exact moment a lot, late at night, when the only thing overwhelming your thoughts it’s him. 

You swallow the lump on your throat down as you take out the letter from the envelope. It’s a little dark but there’s really no need for you to read the words when you know them by heart. You wrote and rewrote them at least a hundred times before deciding the letter looked good and that it wasn’t too long, too obnoxious, too sweet, too cringy. Just the right amount of emotion in case it came to bite you in the ass, like now. 

“S-sure,” you let out a sigh, past caring if he sees you’re a little affected by the situation as a whole. “Yunho, I’m sure you’re reading this after seeing the gift layed out in front of you. Take it as an expression of gratitude for all the times the mere thought of you got me through a day, even in this time when we’re supposed to be upset at each other. I think about you a lot and I think about what I did, too. I’m— This all sounds to stupid and formal,” you criticize your own work without thinking it through, frowning and looking up at him. “This letter is supposed to be an apology and it reads like an email.” 

Yunho shakes his head, a tiny smile tugging on his lips. “Go on, please.” 

Sniffing because you feel uncomfy and vulnerable, you continue.  

“I’m sure you’re wondering why now and not three months ago. Well, it takes a lot for me to defy the expectations people put on my shoulders. As you know, my last name is laced with success I didn’t work on and letting go of things you’re used to is hard, but I did. I went away, I learned, I grew up a little bit and in my journey the only constant was you. Not the fight we had, not the way we have treated each other throughout the many years I’ve known you. I’ve always seen your life from the outside even if I was a part of it, I’ve seen your social media posts and wondered if I wasn’t deserving of the same kindness you display to your friends on them but, as you proved to me that I am deserving of it, I understood that it wasn’t your voice in my head telling me I didn’t, it was mine.

“Not my mother’s voice, not anyone else's, but mine. Accepting that was hard but I did it and I did it on my own but as a result of the impact you had on me the second you turned around and held me with the care I now think I deserve.” Something drops on the paper, wets it and blends the ink of the pen you used together and you realize there’s tears running down your cheeks. “I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. But just know that I kissed you because I wanted to, not because you were being kind to me. And I pushed you away because, out of everyone that has come and gone from my life, you’re the only person who has the possibility to break my heart and mend it the times you seem fit…” 

You look up and to the side to wipe your tears. You’d pat yourself on the back for how you read this to him, without any stutters or mistakes, but the truth it’s that melancholy swallows you as you reach the end of the letter. It’s more emotional than what you’d remembered, too, now that you’re reading it outloud and in front of the man you love. 

There’s no need for you to read what comes next because you want to say it looking at him. 

“And I’m sorry. I love you and I don’t love you just because we kissed or because we are forced to be together. I love you because you’re part of me, because you’ve always been. I love you and I can’t stand to lose you. Again, I’m sorry,” you repeat, looking down at the words again before finishing in a whisper: “Yours, Y/N.” 

There’s this pregnant silence that follows that makes you fidget on your feet. It takes a second for you to gather yourself together again, wipe your cheeks and look up at Yunho. There’s disbelief in his expression and you wince in preparation for what’s about to follow. 

“Like I said,” you start again, extending the letter to him so he can take it, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to do anything, really, a-and I understand if this is all too childish or too cringy for you to say something back. I don’t need you to say something back! Really, I don’t,” you laugh amidst the sudden verbal vomit and shrug, not even looking at him anymore. “I j-just wanted you to know. And I mean it: If you don’t want me that way, it’s completely fine, Jeong. I also settle for being your friend, i-if that’s easier for everyone— For you, if that’s easier for you,” you correct yourself, “because I don’t really care what anyone thinks anymore, including my mother, she can go fuck herself and she can win all she wants if that means keeping you in my life and—” 

He grabs the letter and in a second he uses the tight hold you have on it to push you closer, tearing the paper in the process. 

“Kim Y/N, you big dummy.” 

He lets go of the letter and you do too, hands resting on his chest as you stumble forward a little, the paper falling to your feet as his right hand settles on your cheek, the left one on the nape of your neck. 

“Excuse me?” 

Yunho laughs, breathy and pointed while his eyes scan your face. “You heard me.” 

“Are trying to piss me off, Jeong Yun—” 

This time, when Yunho kisses you, it doesn’t feel new. It doesn’t feel like defiance, it doesn’t feel like you’re breaking the rules or letting your mom win. 

It feels like coming come. 

The ache in your soul stops the second his lips move against yours, deliciously slow and firm while he holds you close. His hands shift, they move the satin robe as they descend and find their place on your back, on your hip. Your chest collides with his with a soft nudge forwards and you sigh against his mouth, welcoming the way his hands tighten on you, feeling finally at ease in his embrace. 

You thought, when preparing his gift, writing the apology letter and then earlier at his dorm, that your self control was something to be admired. Yeah, you love him deeply and all, but you had the restraint to give him the opportunity to decide what he wanted to do with all the things you told him. 

Now you think that there’s nothing in the world that could stop you from kissing his lips raw, from pulling his hair a bit when your fingers tangle in it, from drinking the sound you get in return. 

Fuck your self control. You want Yunho like you never wanted anyone or anything before. 

That’s why you’re grateful when he pumps the break, lips leaving yours and breath on your lips. When you open your eyes, he’s already staring at you. With the way he’s holding you, you barely have to get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose against yours with care and the action reminds you of that day at the office, before you fucked up, but the feeling is way different. 

This time, your gut tells you that whatever is about to happen with the two of you is something that’s going to linger, that he’s going to stay one way or another and your heart thumps loudly at the thought of having Yunho in your life forever. 

Four months ago, the thought would’ve given you a headache. 

Now, it heats up your cheeks as his hands return to your face. 

“I’m sorry, I had to kiss you. I also should’ve gone after you that night, in my dorm, I— I’m also sorry, Y/N,” he lets go of you softly, putting a step in between the two of you so he can take your hands in his. “I’m sorry I cornered you in the office and I’m sorry I expected you to just… Drop all of your beliefs and convictions for me. That’s the most delusional thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s okay—”

“But I love you,” he breathes out and you feel like the air it’s been knocked out of your lungs. “I’m a big pretender, you know? I… I try to be as positive as someone can be, I try to be aloof and I ignore a bunch of things in order to let myself be distracted from what my family expects of me, so I couldn’t understand when you didn’t want to do the same. I do now.

“And I don’t let myself enjoy a bunch of things either, Y/N, but I do allow myself little moments of happiness. When I’m with my friends or when I dance, I tend to have those little moments and then I allowed myself to see you in a new light and I… If I thought those two things brought me some sort of respite from my sorrows, I had no idea you of all people could feel like… Like…”

“Home?” You offer, your voice a sweet whisper full of understanding. 

“Like home.”

He swallows tightly, averting his eyes to the floor for a second. 

“I’m sorry for not returning that call,” he says, his brows creasing a little bit, “I took advice from drunk people in love, so I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you come to me.” 

“I was doing the same,” you whisper back, shrugging his worries away. “Letting you come to me, that is. I couldn’t even— I mean, I should’ve given you all of this in person instead of dropping it off like a scaredy cat.” 

“You did hear the conversation though?” 

“Yeah. Mingi called me a dumbass and I’m not going to forgive him.” 

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “He was right, a little bit.” 

“He called you dumber,” you return, frowning at his jab even though you know he didn’t intend any ill with it. “So yeah, you could say he was right.” 

There’s a few seconds where he just stares: at your hands, twined together with ease and familiarity. At your face, a loving smile lifts the corners of his mouth up before he steps closer again and lets his thumbs trace the curve of your mouth, your cheekbone, your nose. 

“I missed you so much, my love.” 

Oh.

Fuck. 

You warm to the pet name immediately, its significance running through you like a shudder and making you gasp softly, almost imperceptibly. You guess it shows on your expression, the smile on Yunho’s lips widening as his knuckle presses on your cheek gently. 

“You liked that I called you that?”

“Shut up.”

“My love,” he repeats, pecking your lips, “I love you. I’ve… I actually don’t know if I’ve loved you this way all this time, but I’m sure I loved you to some degree. I cared— I care about you.” 

You tear up again. 

That voice that tells you that you don’t deserve him comes back, a distant murmur of it this time, but it’s still there. 

For a good reason, too. 

“Forgive me for being so horrible to you all these years,” he makes a face, like he can’t believe you’re apologizing for that right now. “I wish I could say I did it because I was a vain, stupid child but it was all very much thought through.” 

“I know.”

“And I was horrible. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now, I—”

His lips press softly against yours again. “Stop it. I was horrible to you too, we were both stupid and childish and we had our reasons.”

“Did we, though?” Your nose scrunches while you truly think about all the times you could’ve been nicer to each other and chose to be mean instead. 

His eyes water a little. You frown, fingers tightening around his wrists, you turn to kiss his palm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I just love you a lot,” he sniffs and you catch with your knuckle the tears that roll down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath and untensing his shoulders at the same time. “And it feels so good to be able to say it.” 

“When did you figure it out?” Curiosity takes over you for a second, you allow yourself to wonder about it without any guilt now. 

He hums, thinking about it with a pout on his lips “Like I said, I think I’ve always loved you to some degree. I just… Didn’t know it. I’ve never loved anyone like this before but I think that when I saw you with Jaemi and my heart felt like it was about to come out of my mouth, I kind of knew.” 

“So when I kissed you…”

“I knew,” he nods, “and I should’ve been more insistent when I was trying to talk to you. Go to your house, do something, but I’m… A little inexperienced in this type of stuff.” 

“Because you have no bitc—”

You’re already giggling before he interrupts. “And you love me like I am, so now what?” 

The smile on your lips is so wide you have to look to the side, focus on the shadow of the chair in the tiny living room space for a second to compose yourself. 

It doesn’t really work, because he’s smiling as hard when you turn back to him. 

And then, for the first time since he got here, he seems to notice the length of your hair. He brushes it back with his fingers, the strands barely damp now, and gasps when he reaches the tips at your shoulders. “You cut it!”

With a nod, you laugh at his sudden surprise. “I did, I’m about to get disowned.” 

“Oh, your mom is going to pass out at the very least.” He agrees right away and you laugh again before he joins, his teeth nipping at his lower lip for a second. “She’ll forgive you, though.”

“You think so?”

“You look too beautiful to stay mad at you for long.” 

Oh, your poor heart. You shake your head, diverting the attention from you by brushing the strands of his hair that rest on his forehead back. 

“Blond?” 

“Kind of, yeah. It’s this… Honey something that my hairdresser suggested.” 

Humming, you let your fingernails scratch his scalp gently as they go down, hands resting on his shoulder when you’re done. “They did a great job,” you say before you click your tongue, cocking your head to the side. “Are you sure they weren’t just calling you honey and you misunderstood?” 

His brow lifts, the corner of his lips does as well and he’s ducking his head so he can speak in that cocky tone of his you’re so used to. Only this time, there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“And If they did?” 

You know what he’s asking, you know why he’s asking. You find yourself curious about this type of teasing on his behalf, so you allow it to happen.

In your own terms.

“Did it happen?” You return, leaning even closer, hands grasping the lapel of his suit jacket and tugging on it, pretending to smooth it out with your palms afterwards. 

“Princess…” 

When you look at him, there’s this fiery energy that crosses his expression and it makes your imagination run wild with possibilities. 

Now that you both got through the emotional part of your reunion with tears, with overdue confessions and very necessary apologies, what’s left to resolve is this pent up tension that’s always been something more. With the way Yunho behaves sometimes, so proud and tough, you have a vague idea of what it could be like. 

And it makes you giddy with anticipation. 

You would like to turn your assumptions into facts. So you play dumb, fakely perking up when he calls you, blinking with pretend innocence a few times to sell the act. “Hm?” 

Catching the way his jaw ticks at your behavior, you realize that the rush that went through your body every time you got under his skin was not out of the pleasure of winning. 

It was because you liked it. 

Very much so, that the way his eyes scan over your body like he's deciding what to do with you and your attitude make you let out a tiny puff of air that he drinks right up when he crowds you again, hands on your hips and lips on yours once more. 

His mouth doesn't move with any trace of carefulness anymore. Before, you were able to tell he needed to kiss you, longingly, with all the things he couldn't say before on his lips against yours. Now, his tongue makes its way past your teeth and swipes against yours in a way that makes you stumble backwards, almost leaving the tight squeeze of his hands behind. 

Yunho catches you, walks with you until you feel the arm of the tiny couch supporting your weight as well. 

He leans in a little bit to help you up on it, his body immediately in between your legs, his palms making their way downwards. One is on your lower back, thumb absentmindedly caressing the area, and the other one is pressing right next to your leg on the couch so he can bite your lower lip and give both your lungs a bit of a break before diving into your mouth again. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep him close. 

Closer, closer, closer. You need his body pressing against yours as you try to keep up with the intensity of his kisses. You've never been kissed like this before, never with so much love and passion and want and need. 

You've been kissed while drunk and touched while high in the past, you've been fucked by people you don't remember the names of and you had dropped the sleeping around once you graduated college. 

There's so much of your youth you wish you've done sober. Because now, when his tongue catches a soft moan and his hand moves from your lower back to your leg, under your robe, you don't know why you freak out. 

No, you know exactly why. 

Breaking the kiss, you take two seconds to look at the plush of Yunho’s lips after being deliciously smothered with yours. You're both breathing hard, chests rising and falling in tandem and gasps for air filling the room. 

His hand moves higher, measuring your reaction and you know he's about to ask if it's okay to touch you when you grab his wrist and stop his movements. 

“We don't have to—” 

“Is not that,” you say right away but you're both speaking over each other. 

“I mean, there's a lot we need to talk about. I want you to tell me about your trip and—” 

“Sure, we can do that later,” you nod. “Right now, I'm— I mean, let me turn off the light and you can touch me all you want.” 

He frowns. 

“What?” 

Heart picking up for a different reason now, you clear your throat and try to cough the anxiety away. You can talk to him about these things, it's okay. It doesn't really matter how embarrassed you feel once the words come out of your mouth. 

“Um, I went up a few pounds while on the trip and— And that's a good thing!” You say when he looks at you like he's about to tell you that it's okay. “I ate whatever I wanted, it was great, really. I just…” 

“You did?” He asks in a soft, excited whisper.

“I don't know if you'll, um, i-if you're going to like it.” You finish, blinking the shame away. 

Yunho’s expression softens and you take it as an agreement. You've only been touched in the dark, anyways, so you push into his chest a little bit and off his embrace (even if you don't really want to) and start moving towards the only light casting shadows on the room. 

Only to be tugged right back by a firm hand on your arm.

With his chest against you and his lips grazing your ear, you can barely help the way you shudder. There's something hard poking your ass and the apparent size of it has you gulping, salivating even. 

But you have to turn off the light. 

“Come here,” he murmurs and softly moves the both of you to stand in front of the mirror that's next to the entrance. 

Even if you tried not to, it's something you've been avoiding the whole time you've stayed here. The mirror is huge, floor to ceiling and its position it's very elegant, very fitting for the purpose of this suit that's supposed to be reserved for people who need different outfits for different events. 

You haven't really used it other than quickly checking your clothes earlier today, before leaving to go to the dorm and, even then, it was only a quick ten seconds.

It stings a little that, although you've made progress, your body and the way you perceive it still have such a grip on you. When you add the man your heart desires to the mix? Well, there's little to nothing you can do to let go of your insecurities.

The heat of Yunho's body leaves you for a second and he's turning another light, the one closest to the entrance, adjusting its intensity so the ambiance is not broken by the bright glow of it. 

You gulp again when he returns, but melt into his chest when he presses his body against yours again. 

How can you feel so comfortable with him but so uncomfortable with yourself? It's weird, it's strangely very you but you can't even tell him that because the intensity of his gaze when you catch it in the mirror shuts you right up. 

You know he's telling you to listen to him, to notice how serious he is about this as his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“I've called you ugly before, right? I've have actively contributed to your insecurities in a way that I'm not going to forgive myself for, ever,” he starts and the direct approach to it makes you teary eyed all over again. He notices, lips finding your shoulder to comfort you. “The thing is, Y/N, that I never actually meant it. I think I was pissed off because you were— and are so fucking beautiful.” 

You close your eyes and let out a pleading sigh “Yunho…” 

“No,” he says and you feel how he shakes his head, his chin still on your shoulder. “Someone needs to tell you this. You live in your head way too much.” 

He understands. 

You love him so much. 

“Open your eyes, princess.” 

You do. 

“Look at yourself.” 

You don't. You look at him instead. 

He's staring at you through the mirror and he straightens his back to rest his cheek against your temple, the height difference at his advantage because, this way you have to look up at him and it will give away the pure rejection you have for your reflection. 

“I don't think I've ever found someone as beautiful as I found you. When I realized that, that was what pissed me off… Well, I think I somehow buried the thought away but you are so breathtakingly pretty, Y/N.” He takes in a breath and you lose yours, his hand resting on your hip going up and tracing the curve of your waist. “But it doesn't really matter what I think, it matters what you think, hm?” 

Turning his head, his nose presses against your skin now and he leans in, nuzzling softly, with care, until his lips peck your jaw. 

“I can assure you that you can go up a hundred pounds, go down, up again and I wouldn't care. It doesn't matter, I have found you beautiful in every version that you have presented yourself in and I will find you beautiful if you change your whole appearance everyday. I love you,” he reminds you, “and I love everything that you bring along with you. Insecurities, panic attacks and clever insults to my clothing included.” 

The chuckle that you let out makes him smile against your cheek and he gives you a little peck before putting some space between your face and his. He looks you up and down in the mirror again and you can see genuine want in the way his pupils dilate. You see it happening in real time but then you also see his self-restraint. 

You're at a loss for words, but manage to mumble out “Thank you, Yunho.” And then you turn your head, catching his lips in a soft closed mouth kiss that he returns right away. 

“Whenever you're ready to let me prove how beautiful I find you, I'll be here.” He says when you let his mouth move away from yours, your lips softly pecking his jaw instead and getting a sigh in return. “I can wait.” 

Then, the worst thing happens: His hands leave your body and he starts to step away. 

It's a little embarrassing how quickly your entire being protests and you realize that there's a clinginess to you that you're not so sure where it came from. You reach for him, barely turning, and tug him right where he was. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you enjoy the genuine surprise on his expression and the way it turns into desire when you put his hands on you again: on your stomach, on your hip. 

When you turn your head to look at him directly, his eyes stay fixated on the reflection. His hand on your stomach turns, knuckles softly caressing you. You want to ask him what he likes about that but don't, instead, you tell him what goes on inside your head. 

“Yunho, I do want you. I want you… But I also want to make sure that you like me.” 

He looks at you then, mouth ready to reassure you again but you shake your head to shut him up. 

“I heard you,” you confirm, smiling a bit and then closing your eyes at the visage that accompanies the concept of your body in your mind. You know it's far from what it actually looks like but that also means that you don't know exactly what it looks like and that's terrifying. “I know you love me but would you like me?” 

“I do,” you hear the frown in his voice and take a deep breath before opening your eyes again. “Princess, do you trust me?” 

You nod without a second thought and he leans in, nose almost touching yours. 

“Would you let me show you how much I like you?”

It takes a second or two, but you nod again.

“And would you let me know if it's too much?” 

“Yes,” you breath out, too intoxicated by the closeness, by the way his lips softly trace yours without actually kissing them to think about the implication of his words. 

When he pulls away again, you let out a sound that gives away how much you want him. Yunho’s lips curve and when your eyes finally focus on his again, you can see the quick decision he makes as he looks at the mirror again, resolve and purpose in his expression as he takes off the jacket of his three piece, tossing it on the sofa. 

There's something magnetic in the way he rolls his sleeves up, securing them in his forearms and your eyes follow the motions and trace the veins that you're able to see before he turns away from you. 

He takes one of the chairs he's able to easily mov, placing it behind you both. You realize you've walked a few steps closer to the mirror, and so your back is pressed against it when his attention returns to you, when he takes your face with his hands and crushes his lips against yours without explaining what he just did. 

You brace himself on his forearms, nails pressing on his skin because somehow this kiss feels different. Its pace is not hard to keep up with but it feels like you are, the care he puts in his movements as his palms brush your hair back slowly and then go down, down until they're reaching the knot that keeps your robe closed. 

This time, instead of panic, you feel your stomach flutter. Butterflies all over, there's goosebumps on your skin when he tugs the robe open and feels the satin of your pajamas with his fingers. He makes a noise and, at first, you think it's out of protest because you're not already undressed for him.

But then his knuckles trace the hem of the nightgown and he makes the noise again, tongue flicking against yours harder, getting a moan out of you.

Yunho’s lips find your cheek, your jaw, nipping at the skin of your neck and over your pulse when he gets to it and you close your eyes, head falling against the mirror and head moving to the side so he can kiss every inch of skin if he wants. 

“You smell so fucking good.” 

That makes you smile, a droopy curve to your lips before you bite a sound back “I showered.” 

“You always do,” he whispers into your skin, lips finding your ear. “You always have. Do you know how many times I had to control myself around you?” 

“Hm,” you muse, pretending to think about it. “Do you know how many times you had to?” 

“Oh, trust me princess, I know.” 

He pulls back and you open your eyes. You wonder if yours are carrying the same intensity as his when they go down your body, taking your sleepwear in. 

It's a simple blue v-neck slip dress with some floral lace at the trim lines. It splits on the sides and falls mid-thigh. Something very basic in your opinion, but you don't miss the way his eyes are glued to the skin of your thigh. You're not wearing a bra and your nipples are painfully hard. 

“I didn't actually expect you to come to me tonight,” you lie a little, lips turning up into a shy smile. “So I didn't—” 

“Is this what you wear to sleep?” He interrupts and you watch him gulp. 

“Mhm.” 

“Every night?” 

“Something like this,” you tug at the fabric, softly, “yes.” 

“Fuck.” 

You giggle in return at how affected he seems, but the amusement dies when his eyes return to yours. Holding your hand, he takes a step back and then another and another until he's falling with a thump on the chair he brought close. 

He takes you in one more time before letting go of your hand and manspreading on the chair “Come here, princess.” 

The tone of his voice makes your entire being shake and you take in a breath before following his command. Which is crazy because you never, ever would've followed an order from him. 

But now you can't help yourself. 

Standing in between his legs, you can see when he holds the arms of it after attempting to touch you as soon as you get close enough for him to be able to reach you and, when you're about to straddle his lap, he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in response. 

You understand what he wants immediately and you turn around, watching your reflection in the mirror as you sit down on his legs that he managed to close again in the three seconds it took you to do so. 

You're breathing hard by the time he accommodates you both on the chair, his very clear erection pressing against your ass and lower back and making you dizzy at what you're looking at. 

The image on the mirror is clear, it allows you to see both your reaction and his reaction when you fidget without thinking about it on his lap and the friction it causes brings you a whisper of pleasure. 

“You're a dream, Y/N,” he says and you can tell it came out of his mouth without really thinking about it. Finally, he moves his hands and his nails press on the skin of your shoulders, goosebumps evident and tremor barely concealable when he drags them down the length of your arm and over your hands that rest on top of your knees. 

He covers them with his and you stop following his movements in the mirror to look at his face “Can I?” 

You swallow and then nod and he giggles, this hard facade he has on slipping as he presses a reassuring kiss to your shoulder “Can you say it, my love?” 

“Yes,” you say quickly, your voice betraying you “Please.” 

He closes his eyes, a curse under his breath. “Don't beg me, princess, I got you.” 

You can't help but be curious and, although this is something you can find out as the night goes on, you end up wondering out loud either way: “Why? You don't like it?” 

He shakes his head, that hardness in his expression returns when he opens his eyes to look at you and the curious glint of your expression through the mirror. 

“Do you enjoy it when I beg you, Yunho?” 

And then you slightly move on his lap, trying to pass it like an absentminded movement. 

He sees right through it and the realization shows on his face. 

“Ah,” he laughs, back falling against the chair and head lolling back, “are you going to be a brat, princess?” 

Your mouth quirks at the quick and accurate read he gives your attitude. 

“Of course you are.” 

Again, the bravery your amusement gives you is short lived. He uses his hands over yours to open your legs and his, fast, earning a surprised squeak out of you. Your first instinct is attempting to close them but he huffs and perches your legs on his. You loop your feet around them to avoid falling forward at the lack of things to hold on to. 

This way, your panties are on full display as well. They're simple cotton white panties and there's a wet patch in the middle of them that grows a little at the display, at the image you see in the mirror. 

Yunho curses under his breath again. 

“You're my dream,” he says, a little bit distracted again and then he remembers himself. “I don't like people begging me, I don't give them the time to.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you're about to protest because you don't want to hear about his encounters with anyone else, but he won't let you. 

“One time, I almost had a fight with a friend over teasing. You know her, Mingi's girlfriend,” he says and you don't know if he's smiling at the memory or at the way you squirm under his touch when his fingernails start dragging over the skin of your inner thighs slowly. “I told her the truth: I'm too impatient to tease. She said it's necessary, I said I never needed to tease anyone to get with them and it went on for almost an hour.” 

He reaches the plush that has formed on your inner thighs and you can physically feel your centre growing wetter. 

“I never got it,” he insists and, when he pretends that he's going to touch you where you need it the most only for his touch to go back down the expanse of your thighs, you let out dissatisfied huff. “Now I think I do.” 

“Yunho…”

“You wanted to beg?” He asks, mouth against your ear and hot breath on your cheek. “I can make you beg.” 

You give in almost immediately. 

“Please,” tongue wetting your lips, you attempt to move in order to get some sort of relief but he's quicker than you. Strong hands hold your hips steady and you puff out some air again. “Please touch me.” 

It's clear the whine on your voice affects him because he pants against your cheek, nudges your face with his nose and then dives with his lips to kiss your neck again. 

“Be still, princess.” He commands and you stop trying to wiggle against him, only to rest your back against his chest when he brings his hands down in a caress and holds you fully open for him again. “I got you, but do as I say.” 

He takes your nod as an answer this time and his lips travel down your neck, to the skin of your back and then your shoulder. You watch in the mirror as his teeth catch the strap of your nightgown and, when he speaks again, it's a little muffled because of it.

“Can I take this off you?” 

You take a breath before replying “Yes.” 

And then he slips the strap off your shoulder with his teeth and you swear you're ruined for everyone else entirely. 

There's no way anyone is going to make you tremble like he did just now.

He goes ahead and does the same to the other strap, hand quick in catching the gown from falling completely. 

“Should I?” 

“Yunho… Stop teasing me.” 

He chuckles and takes his time to redo what he just undone: he pulls the strap on your left shoulder up again, switches the hand that's holding your second to last piece of clothing up, and does the same to the other strap. 

“But you look so pretty in it.” 

Your skin heats up harder than ever before. 

“You look so pretty like this, all breathless and ready for me to touch you… Do you know how happy it makes me that I can touch you, princess? That you’re in my lap and not in my head?” 

You swallow back a whine “Y-you thought about me like this?” 

“I dreamed about you like this,” he kisses the nape of your neck and then focuses his attention on the shoulder he neglected before, “for months.” 

You hum in acknowledgement at his words, but your mind is elsewhere because his hands return to their ministrations on your inner thighs and it's hard to concentrate on anything else but the pad of his thumbs ghosting over your panties as they move. 

He finally concedes and lets his hands wander upwards until they get ahold of the hem of the nightgown and, in one swift movement, you're left in nothing but your underwear in front of him. 

Well, in front of the mirror. He's watching the reflection of your body carefully and you can barely spare a look at it, breath caught in your throat at his reaction. 

When he sees your naked torso, he fully lets out a moan. 

You feel slick rush out of you at the sound but don't turn to yourself to verify what exactly about you made him react that way, made him get even harder against your ass. 

“God, look at you.” 

Breathing hard, you turn your head slightly so that your nose touches his and you think he's about to drop it, give in and kiss you when you feel his thumb and index pressing against your cheek, turning your head to the reflection again. 

“Is this okay?” 

You know he's referring to the hold on your face and you mumble out a yes, still looking at him through the mirror. 

“I said, look at yourself.” 

You do. 

Legs open and still perched on top of his, white panties turning a little see through due to your arousement and nipples pebbled in full display, you allow yourself to enjoy the two seconds of clarity before your body starts to shape shift in your head, before your thoughts turn you undesirable and before you fall into your dysmorphia. 

Yunho is right there to catch you, though. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you're even allowing me to see you like this, Y/N?” 

The hold on your face relaxes and you follow the movement of his hand, down until it settles on your throat, relaxed, not even putting any pressure. 

“Still okay?” 

You nod. 

He puts in slight pressure now and, when you moan, he chuckles but doesn't say anything to acknowledge what makes him laugh. Instead, his hand keeps descending until his fingers rests in between your breasts and then he softly cups one of them, thumb passing over your nipple and making you jump at the sudden contact before letting go. 

“So fucking pretty. You see this?” His fingers take hold of the skin of your tummy that connects with the curve of your waist and he pinches slightly, making you squirm and tickling you a bit. “Everything you are, everything you have makes my heart beat,” he kisses your shoulder again, “and my dick hard,” and again, “and makes me want to prove to you that there's no one in this world that can come close to you, not in my eyes, my love.” 

Oh, my God. 

He says it in a way that makes you want to believe him. And, deep down, you know you do. 

Even though it's complicated, even though it takes effort to make years and years of self-loathing disappear, you know you can try. 

Because you desperately yearn to see yourself from Yunho's point of view. 

This time, when you turn to kiss him, he doesn't put up any restraint. His dominant mask slips off of him for just a second when you grab his face, pliant mouth moving at the rhythm and pace yours is marking, a whine getting muffled with your tongue. 

He gives your legs rest, closing his legs (and, in consequence, yours as well) and, when you tug at his hair so you can mark his neck down at the weird position you're in, he groans and you want to smile but he's searching your lips before you can even leave a bruise on his skin. 

“I love you, I love the way you think about me, I love what you make me want to think about me,” you assure him when you pull back to look at him. His cheeks are red and his lips are swollen and you love the way they're parted as he recovers his breath. 

“Lesson learned?” 

“Mhm,” you kiss his lips again and take the hand resting your waist, bringing it down to your clothed sex so he can feel how wet you are “now please, would you touch me?” 

“Fuck, you really do love to beg, hm?” He says and it's breathy, like he can't actually believe, and he doesn't give you time to respond because he's already kissing you again. “Let's go to bed.” 

“W-wait.” 

“Yeah?” 

The way you glance at the mirror is a dead giveaway of what you truly want. It makes him take in a sharp breath and grab your face in between his hands, fascination written all over his expression. 

“Do you want to watch when I touch you?”

You breathe out a moan in response.

“You want to watch yourself while I make you come?” 

A little shy but with resolve, you nod. 

He curses. 

Next thing you know, your legs are perched over his again and they’re wide open. Your arms fly back to hold onto him, onto anything that helps you not fall on your face but then his perfect, veiny hand presses on your torso and you fall back comfortably into his embrace again. 

He wastes no time, lips marking a path from your shoulder to your neck and fingers ghosting your clit over your panties and you whimper, impatience making you move against his crotch and making him grunt at the friction. 

“I k-know you just s-said you just discovered the joy of t-teasing but can you please do somet— Fuck!” 

His thumb presses on your bundle of nerves over the cotton and you can’t help but shake. 

It has been a while since you’ve even touched yourself truly, with want and need behind. It’s been a while since someone else touched you there, period, so the sensation feels new and you kind of feel like an overly inexperienced woman with the way you can’t help the immediate build up when he starts moving his thumb.  

It’s electric and you notice that your eyes closed the second he touched you, so you remember yourself. You remember what you asked for, what you actually want to see. 

When you open them again and look at Yunho, you find him already looking at you. His parted lips turn into a proud smile when he catches your eye and he nods, kisses trailing up to your ear, teeth nipping at the skin. 

“Good girl.” 

Fuck. 

He stops his movements to let his index, middle and ring finger cup your sex entirely, press into the fabric and let it soak with your arousal. You see in the mirror and you watch, with fascination, how he manages to twist the cotton to the side and expose your pussy for you both to see with the same hand. 

“You’re so wet, princess, I bet you taste so good…” 

Your brain short circuits and malfunctions when he finally touches you without anything in between his skin and yours. His index reaches out and collects the evidence of how much 

you want him, of how much you want him and you moan when the fabric snaps against your pussy when he lets go of it. 

“Do you?”

He toys with the stickiness on with his fingers, rubs it in between them and then brings his hand up so you’re able to see it without the mirror’s help. 

“Look at me,” you do, obedient, “and open up.” 

You open your mouth and allow his fingers to get in and rest against your tongue. You suck out of instinct, eyes never leaving his, and he gulps as he watches you taste yourself until your arousal transfers from his fingers to your tongue. 

“Let me taste it now.” 

Licking into his mouth, the fingers that were previously on yours settle on your throat, not allowing you to fully lean in and kiss him like you want but, instead, letting him have control of it. 

You swear you see stars when he sucks his tongue into his mouth and he hums, pleased with the taste. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Letting you go, you’re breathing hard when he pushes you a bit to put some distance between the both of you. 

“Get up and take these off.” He snaps the elastic of your panties and the sting against your skin makes you whine. 

You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but wait for him to lead your actions and the consensual loss of control feels so freeing that it makes you dizzy. So you oblige, getting off his lap and allowing him to turn you around so that your ass faces the mirror. When you look at him, he’s looking at the reflection and not you, so you decide, with a boost of confidence because of the hunger in his eyes, to give him a little show. 

You bend over, forehead almost touching his chest and proceed to take off your underwear that way. You open your legs a little, giving him a clear view of it when the fabric falls from your legs and pools at your ankles and, when you twist your head to the side to look at his reaction, his tongue is out and licking his bottom lip like he’s starving for it. 

For the first time ever, you feel both sexy and desired at the same time. 

He reaches for your ass in a way you’re not so sure it’s calculated and you fall fully into his chest with a soft moan when he opens you up for him even more. 

“So hot,” he says, low, under his breath, like he’s not even thinking before he speaks and he lets his fingernails drag on your skin (something you’re learning he enjoys doing and that you also like, a lot) until his hands fall to his knees again. “Fuck.” 

He still hasn’t even touched you properly and you already feel drunk on his touch. You feel that way, at least, when you prop your hands against his chest and push yourself up. He turns you around quickly, sits you on his lap with your legs open again and sighs. 

“I’m not going to make you beg for it anymore when all I want to do is watch you come, princess.” 

Arm around your middle, he presses you flush against his chest and takes your right hand in his. It allows you to let go of the grasp you have on him a little and, when he guides your own fingers to your pussy, you get why. 

“Show me how you like it.”

You feel lewd, exposed and dirty in a way you never thought you would enjoy. But here you are, craving 

“Yunho…”

“Show me,” he insists, “so I can learn.” 

Isn’t it a little bit funny that he sounds like he’s the one begging you when he speaks? 

You show him. Starting with collecting a bit of your slick, you drag a finger upwards from your entrance to your clit and then, only when you can see it fully glistening in the mirror, is when you press down and caress it in circular motions that send electricity through you right away. 

As you do with everything, this is something that, although you don’t really have time to even think about doing most of the days, you have perfected. There’s a science to it, a method that you’ve discovered via need and lust and that has never been so thoroughly explored than right now. 

It’s like you have kept your needs like a nasty little secret inside of your heart, just like you did with your love for Yunho, and you’re letting it all out. 

You pick up the pace, alternating from circles to side to side motions and the pleasure quickly becomes overwhelming. Or have you been touching yourself for him for minutes now? Time disappears in every sound you unconsciously let out, it blends with the glint of passion in Yunho’s eyes and it dissolves in an orgasm that quickly takes over you and shakes you forward. 

“That’s it,” he mutters with his lips against your temple and his hands holding you steady. “Now’s my turn.” 

He replaces his hands with yours, bats your fingers away when you try to prolong your pleasure and takes over at a relentless pace, overstimulating you.

It goes on like that for a minute or so where you shake and you readjust in his lap and you shake again when he bucks your hips and you feel him firm against your ass. You desperately want to help him feel this way, too, but there’s only so much you can do when he teases your entrance with his index and finds you relaxed enough to put it in slowly. 

Slowly until it glides in and out smoothly and you hold onto your forearm, and whimper and his name spilling from your lips in bliss when his ring finger joins. You hope you don’t look too delirious, you wish you’re not making a fool of yourself for feeling the heat pool on your lower belly so quickly again. 

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m—” 

“Don’t look at me or what I’m doing, look at yourself.”

Huh?

“W-what?”

“Watch yourself come,” he reiterates, breathless and, when you disobey and look at him through the reflection, he’s already focused on your face, mouth hanging open and brows furrowed with determination. “I want you to see how beautiful you look coming all over my fingers, Y/N.” 

He curves them upwards and the sensation somehow intensifies “Shit.” 

“Come, Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you’re able to prove his words to be true. When you come undone, you’re looking at yourself and in the mirror is someone you don’t exactly recognize. Someone you don’t perceive as yourself because, yes, the person staring back at you is beautiful. And that person looks sexy and sensual and is glowing with pleasure written all over their face but they’re not someone you have categorized in your brain as you. 

And then you understand. This raw, pure, unfiltered state of you is something you hadn’t reached before. Naturally, you had never seen yourself come. And you hadn’t been handled with so much care through an orgasm before, so you lived it fully and then, only when you stop shaking and your legs fall from his and your feet are on the floor, holding your weight steady, is when you allow yourself to look away from your reflection and turn to the man responsible for the best orgasm of your life. 

His lips are quivering, his eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls against your shoulder as he holds you to him. 

“You… Jeong Yunho…” 

He smiles, probably at the way your voice trembles and gives away just how fucked out you already are, but he doesn’t open his eyes  “Yes?” 

“My turn.” 

When he opens his eyes, you’re already standing up in front of him, his hands shifting on your body, the fingers that just made you see stars leaving a wet trail on your skin before they settle on your stomach. 

And, although he seemed tough and dominant just a minute ago, he puts no resistance when you grab his arm and make him stand up as well. You get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose with yours and he holds onto you again as you stumble backwards, towards the bedroom. 

“You’re too dressed, Jeong.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy me in a dress shirt,” he says, a smug smile in his lips when your back hits a wall and he presses his body to yours, “prepping you to take my coc— F-fuck, princess.”

Your hand teasing his erection over the fabric of his expensive pants is enough to shut him up. Good, you already let him have his fun (and yours, by consequence) and, even if you enjoyed the loss of control, there’s something equal parts rewarding and hot about winning it back with the simple press of your thumb where you believe his leaking tip is. 

“You’re too overconfident sometimes, Jeong,” you whisper against his lips and it may be your two amazing orgasms or the way you love to have something over him, a little bit of power at least, that make you overly confident right now as well. He puckers out to kiss you but you don’t budge. “Want to see if you prepped me right?” 

It’s a question for consent. You have to make sure he wants you this way, too. That this is fun for him, too. And when he pauses your heart feels like it stops for a second, just like time. 

But right after there’s this quiet agreement you both come to and his mouth devours yours as you move in tandem, in coordinated effort to undress him: You loosen his belt and work on the button of his pants while he unbuttons his shirt and both your feet move with synchronized steps until he’s falling on the bed and you’re getting on your knees in front of him. 

He, however, stops you with a hand caressing your face softly. 

“Later,” he mutters with a soft smile that’s laced with something passionate and lewd you feel you’re about to discover. He leans in, teeth catching your bottom lip and pulling until you’re whining and you taste a little blood on your mouth. “I need to fuck you right now.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You do however make sure to peel his underwear off him while you’re on your knees, the size of him making you wet and ready all over again.

When you stand up, he grabs your tired legs to pull you closer. It feels like a pause in the middle of passionate urgency, but when he takes his time to kiss under your belly button and the expanse of your hips, you feel like it only adds fuel to the fire. 

The fact that he’s even taking the time to explore you makes you want to combust.

“Oh.” He bites you right over your hip bone and you take his hair into your fingers, pulling him back. “Y-you said you needed to fuck me?” 

“I do,” he laughs against your skin and then leans back, taking him with you and you let him, falling on your side before he pushes you against the mattress, body covering yours and palms touching you all over. “I just enjoy taking my time with you.” 

“I can see that, Jeong.” 

He’s distracted again within the second, looking down your body and taking you in like it’s the first time he’s seeing you even though he had a clear view of you and your pussy in the mirror five minutes ago.

And there’s this urge that takes over you, you can’t even fight the words that come out your mouth next.

“Make love to me.” 

He pauses again and then your words register in his brain, you can see the exact moment they hit him and you think you see him tear up a little before he blinks the deep emotion away to focus on the moment. You have to do the same. 

“I will. Every day of my life, if you ask me to, if I’m so lucky to.”

The rest of the night, from the moment he says those words, kisses you and moves you so you’re in the middle of the bed, it all passes in slow motion. 

And it all passes really fast, too. 

Yunho makes love to you. He enters you while looking into your eyes and whispering how much he loves you against your lips and you say it back. He holds your hand as his hips move and his length drags deliciously inside of you. He marks your chest with his lips and your heart with his love and he closes his hands over yours when his pace picks up and he allows to lose himself in the moment too. 

You make love to him as you push him onto his back, his pretty face all flushed, the pink coloring his neck and his chest where you hand rest as you ride him and watch his control slip from him, as you memorize his moans and grunts and as your walls squeeze him in before coming again on his cock and it only takes to firm, hard strides for him to spill himself inside of you as well, the prove of your love making spilling out of you a little when he holds you to his chest and he pulls out of you, both of you sated, both of you in love. 

It feels like an hour has passed when someone speaks again, the silence in the room comfortable and accompanied by the beats of both your hearts. In reality, it’s only been around ten minutes where you’ve closed your eyes and breathed the remnants of Yunho’s cologne, cheek pressed against his chest and his fingers drawing random figures on your naked back. 

You decide to break the silence when you remember something. 

“I think they forgot my room service.” 

There’s a pause and then Yunho is laughing loudly and it makes you smile. His chest vibrates and you can see, on your peripheral, how he covers his eyes with his forearm. 

“I’m being serious, I ordered like three hours ago.” 

“Maybe they knocked and we didn’t hear them,” he mumbles tiredly and you finally look up, chin pressed where your cheek was a second ago. “We were pretty… Busy.” 

“That’s worse, Jeong!” 

“Why?” He asks, genuinely clueless and then it clicks for him. He brings down his arm and opens his eyes wide with shame. “Oh, my God.” 

“Mhm.” 

“How are you going to look the receptionist in the eye?” 

“She knows me, too. She asked me to take a picture with her  when I check out.”

Yunho sighs and says nothing. He looks at you, hand on your back moving until it reaches your face and he lets his knuckles trace your nose in a way that makes you scrunch it. 

“I forgot you were famous.” 

“We both are,” you w-hisper back, lips forming a thin line as you think. “I mean, if someone leaks that we’re both here, it won’t look weird because we’re supposed to be together.” 

“Supposed to?” He frowns. 

“Well, yes, to the public at least.” 

Yunho pouts. 

He pouts and your stomach twists and turns with nerves and butterflies. You’re joking, kind of. 

“Are you not my girlfriend, Y/N?” 

Oh, he’s adorable. It’s so easy to tease him when you’re both not at each other’s throat. 

You wonder if you’ll ever have a fight again, your heart weak for him even when you try to keep the joke going. 

“I haven’t been asked to be anyone’s girlfriend…” 

The deadpan expression that follows your quip breaks your resolve entirely and you laugh, hiding your face on his chest as he mumbles something you don’t catch. 

“What?” You look up at him again. 

“I said that you’re annoying and that you are my girlfriend.” 

“No, I think you said that you love me.”

There’s something so reassuring in the way the annoyance disappears from his expression and it’s replaced by something sweet and he looks like he can barely fight the words back when he replies with: “Yeah, I do.” 

You hum, happy with his response “I thought so.” 

Pressing your cheek against his skin again, there’s only two seconds of silence before his hand is on your shoulder and shaking your body. 

“Say it back, Y/N.” 

“So needy,” you tease and he shakes you again, groaning, so you sigh and pull away from his body to sit up a little. “I love you too.” 

He leans into your space, a blissful smile curving his lips before he pecks your mouth in a sweet, short kiss “Good,” he whispers, falling against the pillows and dragging your body with his so that you’re resting against the soft material as well. “When did you come back?” 

“A week ago.” 

“Hm,” his hands return to your body, fingernails dragging softly up and down your arm, “your family doesn’t know.” 

At the mention of them, you close your eyes and squeeze, reality washing over you. 

“I’m sure my mother does.” 

“She doesn’t,” he assures you, “she would’ve mentioned it by now and she only talks about the project you’re going to lead once you’re back.” 

You open your eyes “What project?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says softly, “I thought you were already leading one?” 

“Something like that,” you nod. “I, um… Was networking in a way, gathering new information on new companies to invest in and help their growth. Small business with original concepts that we can boost or help bring to the city and all of that.” 

“Did you have fun on the trip?” 

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully, “I did. I met a lot of people, I visited places I never even knew existed, I also learned a lot about myself and about what I want… And I got away from Satan for a while.” 

He knows you mean your mom, so he snorts out a laugh and shakes his head at the jab. 

“I missed you a lot, though.” 

His amusement dies slowly but happiness remains on his face. You’re sure yours is a reflection of his, as well. 

“I missed you too,” he answers in a murmur and you nuzzle the hand that reaches your cheek before giving it a kiss. “I’m glad you had fun and it sounds like being away helped but… Never do it again.” 

“Oh?” You try to tease but he insists. 

“Never leave without telling me again, please,” his whisper sounds like a plea and your heart beats louder. “I’ll miss you too much.” 

There’s an impulse, a need that soars through your blood. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away again but, when I do, you can go with me.” 

“I will,” he answers right away and at the confirmation that you want him there with you, you see the tension slip away from his features, “my bags are already packed and all.” 

“I bet they are,” eyes rolling back in annoyance, you press a palm on his chest and push him a little. “Needy.” 

“Shut up.” 

There’s a lot of things to talk about. A lot of things you want to tell him, to mention, to bring up and discuss with him. Like what happens after you leave this bubble you’re floating in, if you tell your brother and his right away, if he’s going to tell his friends or wait until you’re a little far along in the friendship to do so. 

You have to ask him if he wants to tell your parents like… Ever. You’re not so sure you even want to. 

But he shuffles and moves until his naked chest is against yours and his hands are around your body, chin resting on the top of your head as he yawns. 

There’s this feeling of calmness that washes over you as you consider that, maybe, this can be the way you fall asleep from now on. No sleeping or sleepless nights, just Yunho’s embrace and his steady breathing above you, the beat of his heart, a lullaby that lulls you until your eyes are closing and tiredness takes over your senses. 

This time, you dream about a future together and nothing more. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and please remember the next part it's much shorter and would be the end of this mini series!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[elmonstro]

Hahahaha! Love it, thank you! 😍🤣 All the bickering!!!!! He put googly eyes on his cathetometer, amazing

Percy: Damn bitch you live like this??

Can I ask for 17. noticing their individual quirks from the blossoming romance prompt list with Simpatico? <3

WHAT A COINCIDENCE THAT I STARTED REWRITING LIKE 3 HOURS BEFORE I SAY THE POST ABOUT YOUR BIRTHDAY!! Anyways, Happy Belated Birthday!!! Enjoy some simpatico nonsense:)

Ao3 Link Here

Perceptor narrowed his optics down at the pile of clutter before him. Clutter was a kind, professional, polite way of describing explosive havoc of disorder and chaos that made up the dimensions of Brainstorm’s desk. Disgusting was another word that came to mind. 

::How do you live like this?::  

::Oh please, let’s not exaggerate. It’s not that bad.:: came Brainstorm’s groan. 

It was not an exaggeration. If anything, it was an understatement. 

Perceptor’s internal processors had a difficult time distinguishing just what exactly he was looking at. The only way to actually piece through what was on the desk was to deconstruct it layer by layer. A cross-section analysis.

The bottom-most layer- the foundation, if you will -were dried dribbles of fuel intermingled with a noxious dusting of sentiment and dirt. One of Perceptor’s background scanners identified a cluster of granulated particles to be aged candied energon treat crumbs. An entire rust strick made the foundation brick, its sticky residue gluing it to the hard surface of the desk. Perceptor idly pondered if its removal would cause the entire system to fall apart. And while his internal protocols desperately would like the area cleaned, organized and sanitary, he was not willing to find out if his hypothesis was correct. 

Cemented to this foundational core layer was the secondary mantle layer. This, from what Perceptor could read, was a scattering of notes all in Brainstorm’s sloppy, near illegible scribble. Tattered napkin bits from Swerve’s and printed notices from Ultra Magnus acted as the canvas for dynamic invention designs, schematics and impossible (and implausible) equations with attached nonsensical theorems. Several datapads acted as structural weights. When flicked on, Perceptor wasn’t sure if he felt amusement, exasperation or a sickly, prickling bashfulness in seeing several of his academic research papers and studies riddled with extensive notes, doodles and elaborations from Brainstorm. 

It didn’t take away from the utter disaster that was Brainstorm’s work space but it did soften the blow. Still, Perceptor would prefer if his research wasn’t adding to the disgusting catastrophe that made up Brainstorm’s desk. Perhaps a bookshelf or three would greatly benefit organization.

Level three- the crust -was as troublesome as the other two layers of clutter, if not more prone to disaster by their fragile and incongruous shapes. Trinkets , Brainstorm affectionately called them. Garbage , Perceptor was more keen on describing. In truth, they probably served best as paperweights, however haphazardly placed they were. 

The sentimentality was not missed on Perceptor and a part of him could even find the collection charming. Endearing. 

Perceptor had bared witness to the slow accumulation over the course of the Lost Light’s journey but had never really taken the time to truly examine them. Now he did, his optics scanning over the seemingly random series of objects: little samples of rock, crystal, fossil collected on pit-stop planets, a Rodi-Star for Temporal Excellence half hanging off the desk, a cluster of thumb drive stocked with films, music, and other media either gifted or stolen from Rewind- Perceptor was still not sure. Little gadgets and doodles from Nautica were in abundance and horrible tiny contractions built by Whirl intermingled with them. There was even a small toy-like bauble on the corner of his desk from Chromedome, Perceptor had been present when the Mnemosurgeon had left it there and Brainstorm never moved it, simply fiddled with it absentmindedly while mulling over his work before throwing it back to the corner of his desk.

All these items, papers and dirt and yet Perceptor still did not actually find what he was looking for. 

With a heavy sign, Perceptor responded to the insisting ping in his comms. 

::How do you expect me to find anything on your desk?:: 

Brainstorm’s response was bitingly quick. ::What are you talking about? Everything is organized!::

::It’s garbage, Brainstorm.::

::Use that brilliant mind of yours and you’ll see everything has a purpose.::

::What purpose do Ultra Magnus’s cease orders from 28 cycles ago have?:: Perceptor didn’t dare touch the fragile, lopsided stack in fear of it tumbling down and only adding to the mess. 

::They are counterbalances. Don’t move them or the desk will collapse.:: Perceptor had no doubt in the truth of that statement even if its intent was a joke.

::We are cleaning this when you return to the ship.::

::It doesn’t need any cleaning! I know where everything is!:

Perceptor let out a derisive snort. He could picture perfectly the little fluttering of Brainstorm’s ailerons, his hands moving in frustration. 

::The tell me where your cathetometer is.::

It was the reason for this call in the first place. For rare occasion, Perceptor had the lab to himself with Brainstorm accompanying Rodimus’s small expedition team. It’s not Perceptor’s fault his colleague forgot his equipment but he was not about to be a complete aft in not assisting. He just wasn’t going to personally dig through Brainstorm’s garbage heap of a desk alone. 

::Hmm, if you don’t see it in top it’s probably in one of the drawers.::

Perceptor rounded the desk to see six drawers lining the sides of the desk with three on each side. 

::Which one?::

::The left side. I keep the important stuff there.::

Perceptor raised an optic ridge and couldn’t help but ask ::And what do you keep on the right?::

::Come on Percy, let me have a little mystery, a touch in intrigue.::

::Nevermind, I don’t want to know.::

Perceptor didn’t need to be present to know Brainstorm was pouting, blast mask intact or not. Even hundreds of meters between them and Perceptor knew a pouting, sulking Brainstorm anywhere. 

::You’re no fun.::

::Yes I am.:: Perceptor replied back as he started with the top drawer, pulling it open only to find it crammed to the brim with even more data pads. All of them pressed together to a block so not even a tiny piece of dust could enter. Perceptor slammed the drawer shut. ::How do you live like this?:: he found himself reiterating. 

::Oh, not fun loving Perceptor still complaining about my desk. Is that fun? Cleaning and organizing?::

::You’re a scientist. How do you find anything in this?::

::Tell me how you are fun in explicit detail and I’ll tell you my organizational strategies. We can make a date of it.::

Perceptor snorted as he opened the second drawer. This was filled with several instruments and after some careful digging, he found the cathetometer . ::We can clean your desk together.::

::You must be a hit at the club, Percy. Really. Absolute stud. What moves do you have? The pencil sharpener? The label maker? The file organizer? Actually, you can’t claim that one. Minimus invented and perfected that one. ::

Perceptor could have told Brainstorm at any moment that he had found what the other mech was looking for but, he held onto the tool for a moment, softly smiling to himself as Brainstorm rambled insults to him. It shouldn’t be charming, it shouldn’t be amusing, it shouldn’t bubble up any sort of affection. And yet. 

::I’ve seen you dance, Brainstorm. I wouldn’t speak so confidentially with what you’ve demonstrated.::

::Are you saying Minimus is a better dancer than me? Because you surely can be saying that you are a better dancer. I mean, I think you’ll fall apart if you stepped foot on the dance floor.::

::It hasn’t happened yet.::

::When have you been dancing at Swerve’s? Before or after you deep clean and detail your desk every day?::

::Funny.::

Without even thinking about it, Perceptor opened the third drawer. He stopped as it slid open, its few contents rocking in the sway. Recognition lit his processor in a warm, shy heat.

::I’m hilarious. So funny and smart and amazing and talented and resourceful. Speaking of resourceful…did you find the my cathetometer yet? I put googly eyes on it. For personality. Can’t miss it.::

Perceptor felt the warmth spread across his faceplates. ::I did.::

::Oh Percy, I could kiss you. Tailgate is almost back at the ship if you can give it to him. The mods to his hoverboard make him almost as fast as Rodimus. He’s pissed. Anyways I told you it would be easy to find. All my important stuff is.::

Perceptor barely heard a word of what Brainstorm said. Only sending back a short affirmative as he stared at the drawer. 

::Perceptor? You alright?::

With a sharp invent, Perceptor closed the drawer shut firmly. 

::Perfectly fine. I’ll be ready to pass it off to Tailgate. I’m clearing your schedule for the next cycle. We are cleaning your desk. I can’t work knowing you are working like this.::

::Percy! It’s fine. I don’t need your shitty excuse for a date-::

::It’s not a date.:: Perceptor swiftly cut off. ::This is a work hazard that is being remedied immediately.::

Brainstorm’s response was muted, delayed. ::Okay, okay. We’ll clean it up. I’m sure you’ll have a checklist and everything.::

Perceptor let a small smile come to his face even though he could hear the telltale rumbling of Tailgate’s juiced up hoverboard. ::Of course. You shouldn’t expect anything less from me. If you manage to get it done by shift’s end, I’ll buy you a drink. Maybe if you are lucky, we can dance.::

Brainstorm’s next several responses were streams of incoherent stutters that formed a very excitable agreement. Perceptor didn’t feel the need to continue the chatter as he passed over the tool to Tailgate who only gave him a slightly confused look at his smile. Perceptor didn’t care, not when he knew what lay at the bottom of Brainstorm’s important drawer. 

Sentimental fool.  

[detective-prince-enthusiast]

shockingly i haven’t posted anything about the kind of hilarious kind of sucky p4 remake yuri lowenthal tweet yet dhdjdj

on one hand. it’s quite funny. on the other hand, it does suck to hear him beg to come back and atlus go no. but on a secret third hand, i’m also not surprised. like i’m not shocked that they’d wanna go with an entirely new voice cast, but it’s also a tad bit confusing cause god p4 has had so many spinoff games and yosuke is such an iconic character and voice and you have the guy begging to be back. And it’s like. Saying no is an interesting choice.

Other p4 VAs have been swapped out even in spinoffs, and it’s been fine! I have no problem with it! It’s just interesting to be like absolutely no when someone who loves to role wants to be involved.

So like. I’m not surprised. It’s just like. Damn. Also leaking it extra that way is insane.

The thing i’m MORE worried about is that atlus is kind of in a lose lose situation with the naoto and kanji arcs. To be honest, i don’t think they should necessarily have to change the entirety of those plot points. I am very aware naoto is not in canon text trans, nor is kanji in canon text gay. Atlus chose to have strange spectacle based gay plot with kanji and have an accidental trans-seeming narrative with naoto (which i think comes down to poor writing on both counts).

The things i actually want them to change is just the way they portray it. Because having kanji do a “gay voice” and be so overtly stereotypically gay and predatory in a really offensive way just like. Was not funny ever. And extra isn’t funny now. I think they can still have him struggle with the exact same thing. Society sees his hobbies as “for women” AND society sees gay men as “feminine,” thus he struggles with that. That’s fine. Because it would be true that these things are wrong and he could still be straight and like. Gay men aren’t women stop conflating those things. it would be cool for him to also be bisexual or somethin. But most importantly, the way they wrote it originally was awful.

Same with naoto. They don’t have to make naoto transgender duh. I know that wasn’t their goal. I know it got messy. Despite it being a very relatable trans storyline, i know it wasn’t on purpose. But what they SHOULD change is the way it is treated. The other characters shouldn’t be extreme assholes about naoto’s feelings during and after the reveal. There should be no disgusting mini plot moment of discussing naoto’s chest size?? And telling everyone?? When naoto is obviously uncomfortable with it. That’s gross to do to anyone.

And honestly i really do think adding a goddamn yosuke romance would just make sense. Not a single gay romance option to date. this would be the time. This would make his struggle even more interesting. The option being there but not forced just like with the girls should just happen. I DOUBT it but like. They should.

ANYWAY. i’m extremely hesitant about this remake. P3 didn’t have so much mess ingrained into the plot of the game. P3R removed the one transphobic “joke.” But the shitty moments with kanji and naoto are there. A lot. And they really need to just write it better. But again. I’m not looking forward to it as a whole. I love p4 so so much, but i cannot handle more kanji naoto discourse. Especially from people who just…hate queer people for finding comfort in those characters. Like as someone who knows naoto isn’t canonically trans. I still as a trans person enjoy naoto through a trans lens. But im not saying that’s canon or what atlus is saying. Like these two things can exist. It doesn’t matter. But i really don’t want a resurgence of even worse queerphobic shit from rancid p4 fans. But i also dont want p4 to be forced to change its story either. It’s tricky. And i dont know how atlus wins here. Not that i care about them the most, but like. It’s gonna be a mess. So i am worried. But also. Poor yuri lowenthal sjdkskskssk

[infamousbrad]

This is your second-to-last warning.

Back when fanatical anti-abortion judges were getting appointed in Trump's first term, people on Facebook asked me how scared should they be? And I drew the comparison to the role that the Fugitive Slave Act played in the run-up to the US Civil War, to lay out three levels of alert, because repealing Roe would be your third-to-last warning.

If Roe v Wade was repealed, I said, have a discussion with your loved ones and dependents where you try to get them to imagine having to flee, and come back to it, if not every night, often enough to keep the possibility in mind.

When the first attempt is made to extradite a doctor or pharmacist or other volunteer from a free state to an anti-abortion state, for a crime not illegal in that state, I said start active preparations in case you're going to need to flee. (More on that in a bit.)

When that extradition request fails, and it will fail, you should expect a Republican Congress like this one to pass "Fugitive Slave Act 2.0," requiring free-state local law officials to assist out-of-state law officials and/or bounty hunters in bringing "abortionists" to justice, just like they did last time, and expect this Supreme Court to uphold it. When that happens, get yourself and your loved ones to safety in a free state or, honestly, abroad if you can. Because ...

The last time these very same states tried this, they found that private citizens and local law enforcement in the free states went to extreme lengths to buy time for escaped slaves to escape, delaying out-of-state bounty hunters in every way, the Supreme Court be damned.

If you're still here when that bridge is crossed, you volunteered to live through a civil war. Because the anti-abortion states are going to find out that it is physically impossible to enforce their will on free states while remaining in the United States.

The outcome will be the same, because the conditions haven't changed. The army will take their side? Nearly the whole army took their side last time, too. Didn't help once the food and bullets ran low, which will happen again this time. Last time it ended with their cities shelled and burned to the ground, their economy in a shambles that it still hasn't recovered from, and there's no plausible story that ends the next civil war, if they're determined to have another one, on any other terms.

Yesterday ...

... a Louisiana grand jury issued an order to extradite a New York pharmacist for remotely prescribing mifepristone to a patient in Louisiana. Not only was that legal, but New York state has a shield law, requiring local law enforcement to defend the pharmacist or anyone else so indicted. And it's just what I predicted, because that's what they did last time.

With this Congress, expect a "Fugitive Abortionist Act." They'll have to suspend the filibuster in the Senate to pass it, so there's some hope yet. But by the time it passes, if it does, you will need:

Up-to-date travel papers. A passport is best, but for Gods' sake at least have up-to-date REAL IDs for yourself and your dependents. And ...

Cash. Preferably stashed off-premises, maybe diversified, and at least some of it out of the country or in a local credit union in the free state you're going to if that's your choice.

A transportation plan. Where are you going and how are you going to get there? And, finally, and most importantly ...

An agreement. Promise each other, in advance, that once physical resistance to extraditions ordered under the Fugitive Abortionists Act (or whatever they end up calling it) makes the news? Screw inertia, screw work, screw the fact that you might not have a plan for a place to live when you get there, screw all the reasons to stay, you need to promise each other that, if that day comes, you are going to implement your escape plan, and not wait another day.

Because, to expand on what I said above, if you wait until armies are on the march and checkpoints go up because borders are closing, you will have waited too long, and wherever you are on that day, that's where you're going to be when US cities start looking like Aleppo, like Mariupol, like Gaza.

[nobodysdaydreams]

In Honor of All Saints Day, Here's Some Random Assumptions About My Followers Based on Their Favorite Saints 😇

Please note this is a merely for fun and not meant to offend anyone, please be kind, thank you. Also, I obviously can't possibly include every saint here, so I'm just gonna stick to some of the ones I think are most likely to be favorites of my followers.

Saint Joan of Arc- I'll start with arguably the most popular one, or at least the one I see posted or discussed online the most. If your favorite saint is St. Joan of Arc, there's a good chance you're an atheist who doesn't vibe with saints in general, but likes her because she's a girl with a sword and that's objectively awesome. You're correct for that, and welcome to the post. Another option is that you're a girl who was labeled a "tomboy" growing up.

Saint Paul- if your favorite saint is St. Paul, you have a blog or a significant portion of your blog dedicated to one ex-villain character whose redemption arc you could rewatch on loop for hours. You also might be Protestant, and yes, this particular St. Paul is the same Paul from the Bible. Welcome to the post. ✝️

Saint Olga- if your favorite saint is St. Olga, you support women's rights, but more importantly, you forgive women's wrongs. There have been several times when you've gotten upset about people questioning the validity of a female character's redemption considering her past when they overlook and forgive way worse done by male characters. There's also a chance you might be Orthodox. Welcome to the post. ☦️

Saint Nicholas- if your favorite saint is St. Nicholas, there is a chance you followed me for TMBS content. Your favorite holiday is Christmas, and you're still hyperfixated on the same book series or television show from your childhood. You're also extremely passionate about your fandoms and can't stand it when people grossly misinterpret characters or things in canon.

Saint Benedict- if your favorite saint is St. Benedict, you also probably followed me for TMBS content. You're also a very humble and unproblematic person but the haters are bitter and always trying to bring you down (via their jealousy and also poison, but you can't be stopped).

Saint Scholastica- if your favorite saint is St. Scholastica, you also might have followed me for TMBS content because you know that she's Benedict's twin sister. You also wish that God would summon storms for you whenever you find your brother annoying.

The Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus- if you picked the Virgin Mary, you're neurodivergent, specifically the type of neurodivergent who loved those card games where characters had different levels of power. You take a similar approach to picking your favorite saint, so why wouldn't you go straight for the one that is objectively the most powerful and the best one? It just makes to most sense to you, and the thing is, you're right. You're 100% right. Congrats!

Saint Cecilia- if your favorite saint is St. Cecilia, you're a musician and were in choir either at school or church. You also probably are/were a theater kid.

Saint Lawrence- if your favorite saint is St. Lawrence, you were definitely a theater kid and tried stand up comedy at least once. You also use jokes and humor to cope with stressful situations.

Saint Josephine Bakhita- if your favorite saint is St. Josephine, you are one of those people who somehow remains positive and sees the sliver lining in literally any circumstance. Don't get me wrong, I love that for you, but please take care of yourself. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Dymphna- if your favorite saint is St. Dymphna, you are neurodivergent, have struggled with mental illness, work in psychiatric or medical care, or you’ve dealt with a lot in your life, and I hope you heal. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Kateri Tekakwitha- if your favorite saint is Saint Kateri, you're sick of your relatives pressuring you to date someone, and you're extremely worried about climate change (girl, me too).

Saint Anthony- if your favorite saint is St. Anthony, you have ADHD and lose things multiple times a week. On the off chance you followed me for Wolf359 content, you identified way too strongly with Doug Eiffel.

Saint Peter- if your favorite saint is saint Peter, you either watch "The Chosen" or you have ADHD and felt seen when you read about him in the Bible. That man boldly declared he would never deny Jesus and when told he would do it before a rooster crowed three times, to which he confidently replied "nah" and then immediately got distracted and preoccupied with cutting some guy's ear off and forgot all about the oddly specific terrible thing he was prophesied to do just a few hours earlier by a man he believed to be God incarnate. As someone who also breaks down in tears when I suddenly remember the important things I forget to keep track of, I sympathize with his story. Saint Dymphna is patroness of most mental illness and ADHD is technically covered by her, but if we ever get an ADHD specific saint, I know it has to be either be Peter or Anthony, and if it were entirely up to me, I'd give it to Peter. Don't get me wrong, Saint Anthony is there for us, but Saint Peter is one of us, you know what I mean? Though I feel like due to the problematic nature of diagnosing the deceased (no matter how evident symptoms might be) it would end up going to Anthony, since we do call on him often, and I think Peter would be fine with that.

Saint Mark Ji Tianxiang- if your favorite saint is St. Mark Ji Tianxiang, you or someone you know is probably in recovery from addiction, and I wish you well on your journey. You also empathize way too much with any character who suffers from addiction and if you followed me for Wolf359, that was the aspect of Doug Eiffel's character that stood out to you the most. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Catherine of Siena- if your favorite saint is Saint Catherine of Siena, you've probably written a book or fanfic well over 100k words. (Yes, I know, you don't have to say it).

Saint Francis of Assisi- if your favorite saint is Saint Francis of Assisi, you either have pets or want them, and if you do have them, you've taken them or begged your parents to let you take them to a St. Francis feast day pet blessing. If you followed me for TMBS, SQ is probably your favorite character, and if you followed me for Wolf359 content, you were inconsolable when Blessie died. You're also probably the kind of neurodivergent who takes things like "if you want to follow God, sell all you have and give it to the poor" literally and as a result, this has caused conflict with your family (specifically on account of you giving all the money made from your family business to the poor).

Saint Joseph- I doubt I have a lot of followers who are parents because of how tumblr demographics skew, but if your favorite saint is Saint Joseph, you just became a dad or really want to become one someday.

Saint Monica- again, I doubt this is the case because of the age of tumblr demographics, but if your favorite saint is Saint Monica, you're a mom who really needs a break, and I hope your husband and sons get it together soon. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Augustine- if your favorite saint is St. Augustine, you also like redemption arcs and likely went through a "party phase" at some point in your life that you regret and identify a bit too strongly with the younger brother in the prodigal son parable. However, in this case, you likely also love St. Monica and if you followed me for Star Wars content, you are particularly upset that we didn't get to see more interactions between Leia Organa and her son Benny Solo especially considering they led a whole war against each other the year between TLJ and TROS (dead horse, I know).

Saint Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin- if your favorite saint is St. Juan Diego, you have or grew up with a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe somewhere in your house. You've also been in the incredibly specific situation of seeing or doing something super cool, but not having anyone believe you (but the satisfying payoff when they find out you were right).

Saint Mary Magdalene- if your favorite saint is St. Mary Magdalene, you either watch "The Chosen" or you're a woman who's faith pulled her out of a very difficult time in her life, and like St. Juan Diego, you also know what it's like to be proven right after a group of men call you a liar.

Saints Louis Martin and Marie-Azélie Guérin (Zélie)- if these are your favorite saints, you understand why you can't just pick one. This power couple comes in a set. If you picked these two, you heard about them because your favorite saint might actually be or have been their very famous daughter St. Thérèse of Lisieux. And if you're a guy and you picked these two, you're also a proud girl dad and can't stop bragging to everyone you meet about how successful your wife's business is (especially because she's so humble about it). Green flags all around.

Saint Maximilian Kolbe- if St. Maximilian is your favorite saint, you're a history guy or gal who is obsessed with world war two, but in a good way. In the "this was very not cool. Let's never forget so we never do this again" way. You also love stories of heroic sacrifice and aspire to always do the right thing even when it’s not socially popular or doesn’t benefit you.

(Soon to be canonized) Saint Carlo Acutis- You're a millennial or gen z who loves researching and talking about modern saints. You aspire to be like them and have a list of ones you want canonized (mine are Servant of God Dorothy Day and Archbishop Joseph Francis Rummel. They lived in the 20th Century and when you're dealing with 2,000 years of history, that's pretty modern).

I'm sure I'll think of more to add after I post this, but I'll leave it here for now. I hope y'all enjoy this!

[anxious-witch]

Since I can't seem to stay quiet and I all but made up my mind to stay away from the tag for the next week or so, let's talk about recent discussions about jance and bokris and this...weird ship war that has been going on, shall we?

Under the cut bc while I am annoying, I will spare you the essay if you don't want to read it, god knows I write too many of these.

I don't know when we as a fandom got to a point where we are even fighting over which ship is more likely, more realistic and if the other ship is "more queer coded" or whatever the fuck. I was under the impression that the fandom is meant to be fun thing we do, but that we are all aware shipping is something that's made up. And that even if guys play into it or even if someone is indeed really dating we are aware that what we think about it is irrelevant. Factually, even if someone "was right" about the ship, our perception of it will be widely different than the truth of real people's relationship. Because these are real people, not fictional characters. They cannot queerbait, and jokes aside, even calling someone queer coded is weird, you guys. At the end of the day, we cannot assume someone's sexuality based on how they look.

As for the whole bokris-jance discourse. I don't even know why this is a thing? Bokris people, you got fantastic solo photos of both Bojan and Kris, full of symbolism and got the fire-water link between them that's just perfect for fics.

Jance people, you got joined photoshoot, with Jan and Nace clearly being very intimately connected, which you can interpret in whatever way you wish in fics and fanart. The fact that there are less pictures speaks volumes about how private whatever they have is.

Both have it's merits. Both have it's weight. I don't understand this aggression and fighting over art. Art all of them participated in creating by speaking with Damon about it before doing the photoshoot.

I have friends who ship jance more and I have friends who ship bokris more. The truth about both is that we simply don't know what's going on behind closed doors. Even more importantly, is whatever it is that we don't know worth losing the community we built here? I feel like every time I get into the tag, there is something new people are fighting over. This is just the last thing that seems relevant and that most people got involved into.

But genuinely, I am just tired. I hope things calm down when the new song drops, although god knows there will likely be a discourse over that as well, but hopefully...less than this.

And yeah, I do know this will probably get me blocked from one or the other side or both but let's just...get it over with. Since I feel like this will happen again, I might as well make my stance clear now. Which is-I am not picking a side. I don't think real people can queerbait and that they'd do a joined photoshoot if they didn't have a very deep connection to one another. I don't think they also need their virtue defended because they definitely knew people will speculate after this. But I also don't think this 100% means they are together. Yes, it sucks that queer people need to outright say these things, but I also wouldn't claim a straight couple is dating unless they publicly announced it.

So yeah can we all just please try to chill and do fun stuff again, please?

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

originally posted by the artist, the wonderful @lickboo and it is so beautiful and heart wrenching 🥹 ...made my heart ache.

It made me want to write down my thoughts about Harry, My Policeman and Harry&Louis.

Because watching this created trailer felt similar to how my heart aches whenever i watch old footage of them being reminded how they have to 'keep it down'. Obviously the theme of the film has an even heavier tone, with homosexuality being illegal and all the violence looming for men loving men, but it is my conviction that it's not a coincidence that Harry's (and Louis') life together and the novel's and then the subsequent film's plot overlap so heavily.

And let us not forget that when Harry tweeted "We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall." on September 28th, 2013 - a date on which they definitely did something huge with each other, something-akin-to-getting-engaged-or-married-, same sex marriage was still not even legal in the UK. More than 60 years after the period in which My Policeman takes place.

So let's not pretend that the history we are looking at was ever moving fast and that the struggle of being a member of the lgbtqai+ community only touched them lightly. It touched them heavily and it still does.

Harry chose and wanted his first ever lead debut to be THIS film.

He asked to be in it in early 2020. He only signed on to Don't Worry, Darling in September of the same year.

The director Michael Grandage said, quote: “The person who arrived was incredibly informed: he'd not just read the novel, at least once, he'd read the screenplay many times. I was sitting opposite somebody who was making a case for why they wanted to play Tom Burgess." and also "[...] the script had been distributed within his agency, and they knew what he was looking for in material. So they read this script and thought, This is actually the kind of thing he’s looking for."

(source)

(source)

I could spend hours marinating in these thoughts and they'd make my heart ache for every single minute.

Harry asked his first leading role to be in a film that is about two men who cross each other's paths and instantly feel drawn to each other; a film about two men falling for each other hard and in an environment where they're not allowed to publicly show their love, forced to hide and with seemingly no way out. (pun fully intended) A film that has the one guy constantly in a relationship with a woman he's not in love with, using her as a beard for his safety and feeling bad about it. A film that encapsulates so many emotions tied to having to hide your true heart away to keep each other safe. And the ending... oh my god, the ending.. I still can't write about it without tears filling my eyes, it's so hard-hitting. Honestly, Harry describes it best:

"Styles described his latest film as “devastating.”

“Ultimately to me, the whole story is about wasted time,” he said. “I think wasted time is the most devastating thing, because it’s the only thing we can’t control. It’s the one thing we can’t have back.”"

(source)

And I want to add, when in the same article it states he said: “So much of gay sex in film is two guys going at it, and it kind of removes the tenderness from it … [director Michael Grandage] wanted to show that it’s tender and loving and sensitive.”, he not just states that that were the director's thoughts and vision first and foremost (which he seems to agree with, though), but the main point is:

Harry has been viewed/portrayed through a hyper-sexualized, heteronormative lens since he was 16 years old. Gay sex in media is often heavily fetishized (an in-depth discussion around this is more than my spoon supply can provide today) and more importantly: gay love is almost always heavily sexualized, thus heavily fetishized; removing the three things that Harry highlighted as being very important for the film:

Gay love and gay sex are tender and loving and sensitive.

And it needs to be shown. Wanting to empathise on those things never meant that it's not okay to just want to watch "two guys going at it" (can imagine Harry and Louis enjoy that, too). It's just that the representation is still very imbalanced and Harry and the director recognize that.

To return to the main point that keeps me up at night: Harry wanted and chose to do a movie with this plot for several reasons that, in my opinion, go beyond representation (that is incredibly vital) and to be seen by the world as a gay man (that he is).

And to quote Louis: "That's incredible, Harry."

I think Harry read the novel/screenplay and found himself and Louis in it.

And I think that was a huge reason why he wanted to do this film as his first lead acting role.

[miguelsfangservice]

BEYOND THE SPOTLIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!Famous Idol Reader

Warnings: Negative and positive stereotypes about the industry (idk, probably later in the story), and not the best english lol (sorry in advance). Summary: It doesn't matter he's at HQ trying to keep the multiverse afloat, your face, your voice, your smile and laugh follows him everywhere. No, he is not loosing it (yet); it's just that its kind of inevitable when most spiders under his command are... how did Gwen called it? Ah-staning you? Well, he can't really complain, it's his girlfriend,after all.

“The first time you hear it it may seem shallow, but I’m telling you,bro,when you pay close attention  it’s one of the best pieces of art depicting the oppression of individuals for expressing their sexuality, y’know what i mean.”

An awkward silence settled in the room before Pavitr and Miles let out some nervous chuckles.

“I thought it was a love story” Miguel's ears hurt just by hearing Pavitr retort with his mouth full of god knows what..

“...I’ve listened to it a couple of times and I have to agree with Pav.”

Before Hobie could open his mouth to reaffirm his earlier claim, Miguel slammed his fists on his desk.

“Do I need to remind all of you we are trying to have a serious discussion here?”

Silence. For at least a few seconds before Pavitr can’t resist anymore and turns to Hobie once more.

“What part of the song are you referring to, because I think-”

“It’s specially obvious at 1:30 when she sings-”

“Get out- If you’re not taking this problem seriously,OUT”

“ But I'm…” Miles tries to argue back, but at this point and with how exhausted Miguel is, he just doesn’t care about whatever they have to say.

“THE THREE OF YOU, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT”

While leaving his office, Hobie and Pavitr still have the absolute audacity to continue their discussion in hushed voices (mostly Pavitr, Hobie does not care if Miguel hears him”; Miles doesn’t speak again but Miguel can see him trying to hide his amusement.

If Miguel had eaten anything, if he had gotten enough sleep or, most importantly, if he had seen you at least once today, he miiiiiiiight’ve been in a better mood to confirm that yes, Hobie was right, it was kind of your intention to convey those themes in your last single.

He would know, he was there giving you feedback  and taking care of you when you put your heart and soul into writing that song.

Also, even if he had the mood to discuss it with those kids, he wouldn’t try his luck and let them get suspicious enough for them to put everything together and figure out he’s been dating you for over a year now.

Miguel wouldn’t hear the end of it if any of the spiders knew about their huge and scary boss dating the “pop divinity”, the “fan´s delight”. Besides, it would get a lot harder for you to sneak into the HQ to spend some time together after your rehearsals or just when about every spider went home.

Although, he couldn't deny he was getting tired of keeping the relationship a secret; he hated hiding to every person he deemed close to him the fact that he wanted to spend the rest of his miserable (and probably very short) life with you.

But he knew you were not quite ready yet. Not until you were able to live with the fact that yes, your boyfriend is Spiderman, and he’s not only putting his life and sanity at risk in your universe, but also putting an unimaginable burden on his shoulders by trying to keep several other universes safe.

You already had a lot on your plate with the sudden burst of fame and all the work you were putting into creating your first solo album.

Sometimes, Miguel kinda wished you were still doing activities with your girl group, it put a lot less pressure on you and your health. But he felt guilty just for thinking about it.

This was your dream, having your own solo activities, showing the world your songs and what you were capable of. And he was so proud of you, so happy to see your face light up after you finished writing a song or when you learned a difficult choreography. 

Miguel O’hara had the heart of steel to do a lot of harsh things, to take the decisions no one else wanted to take for the sake of hundreds of universes and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to see your sad face if he ever questioned what you were doing to achieve your dreams.

“Lyla, I'll be calling it a night. Got to get home.”

Just when he was about to exit, she appeared right in front of him with a huge magnifying glass in which he could see her eye getting bigger, examining him; Miguel grunted and tried to brush her off as if she was a bug

“This early? Who are you and what did you do with my boss? I’m gonna put the emergency lockdown if you don’t answer me right now-”

“I’m trying to recall at what point of your creation I made you this damn noisy.” he hissed, walking faster and then swinging away from her. “Besides, no te hagas tonta (don't act dumb), you know damn well where I’m going and with who.”

“And I appreciate the trust you put in me by telling me your secret–” she started saying, solemnly.

“We both know I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But, as your best friend and the one who knows you best–”

“Firstly, I don’t have a best friend and secondly, the one who knows me best is Y/N, not you!” Miguel interrupted and pointed a finger at her, trying to poke her, but his complaints were ignored as Lyla continued with her ramblings.

“I think I have enough authority in your life to give you some well needed love advice” Miguel couldn’t help but snort at the ‘authority’ affirmation.

At this point he decided to completely ignore her voice and focus on getting to your shared home; it had been a long day and all he wanted to do was bury his face in your shoulder and try to sleep with his girl by his side.

❃❃❃❃

A/N: Well, this is my first fanfic for the fandom. If you liked this, please, consider following, leaving a comment, like or reblog, I would really really appreciate it, specially cuz I'm not sure if anyone would like to read more about this.

[borntolurk]

METATRON: or an explanation about why his inclusion in the S2 and S3 narrative is fascinating and weird, actually

Originally, this was going to be a stupid, unlikely, and mildly cynical theory about what I think is going to happen in S3 and how it might compare to my third least favorite TV show finale.

But while I was writing it I went down a Metatron rabbit hole and honestly? It's pretty crazy. Like, really crazy.

Part 1: Metatron

So who is Metatron, anyway?

(This gets a bit detailed but I promise it pays off!)

I think a lot of people, because Metatron is in the book (which is a Book of Revelation parody), assume that he was also a figure in the New Testament- or barring that, in the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible. But he wasn't! In fact, Metatron isn't in Christian scripture or early literature at all.

Metatron is really a (very nearly, he's also mentioned in Islamic texts) Jewish figure. The exact origins are a bit fuzzy to me, as while I'm a scholar of Jewish history this isn't my era (it also gets pretty mystical and my worst grades were on mysticism-related papers), but essentially you're not seeing the name until a century or two after the Common Era at the very least. In antiquity, the name is largely found in the 3rd Book of Enoch (and later other Merkabot/Hekhalot literature) and in the Talmud.

The 3rd Book of Enoch is a work whose origins date back to anywhere from the 1st to the 5th century CE and it continues the themes of the 1st and 2nd books which discuss Enoch, the seventh generation from Adam in the Book of Genesis. In Genesis, Enoch is noted as having been taken by God rather than dying, and the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Book of Enoch expands on this idea of Enoch being a massively powerful figure in Heaven (keeper of treasures, God's right hand figure, leader of the archangels, etc)- and even potentially being a lesser/dual version of God. In the 3rd book in particular, the word Metatron is used to describe him.

For those who are aware of Jewish theology, it might have occurred to you that the idea of there being a duality of God in any way is a pretty fraught one; Enoch is largely non-canonical in Judaism*, but it was still cited reasonably frequently by Jews in the early Common Era. In the next few centuries, we start to see more mentions of Metatron (at this point, not explicitly identified with Enoch) in Jewish literature, and this becomes a pretty big deal.

We then have three Talmudic mentions of Metatron, and one of them (Avodah Zarah 3b) is relatively minor, but does suggest, importantly, that God deputizes Metatron to do tasks that God would otherwise do. The other two are more interesting here. In Sanhedrin 38b, we see a debate between Rav (Rabbi) Idit and a heretic, who suggests that perhaps Metatron, which Rav Idit has mentioned as a representative of God, should be worshipped on par with God; Rav Idit makes clear that this is not correct.

The most interesting, though, is the story in Chagiga 15a, which tells the story of Rabbi Elisha ben Abuyah, otherwise known as Acher (the Other, signifying that he is a heretic). The story of Acher is a quite famous one, but here it's told with a particular twist that didn't make it into the versions that I learned in Jewish day school- the involvement of Metatron and its influence on the precise nature of Acher's heresy.

Rabbi Elisha ben Abuyah was a 1st century rabbi and teacher who was one of the leaders of his generation who is described as having been one of the four rabbis who entered the "Pardes," or orchard- and he cut down the saplings, becoming a heretic. This is usually interpreted to mean that he was exposed to deep, fundamental understandings of God which caused him to turn away. In this particular version of the story, what he saw was a vision of Heaven in which Metatron was sitting in God's presence. To Elisha ben Abuyah, this was a massive affront to God- surely one should stand in God's presence! This led him to believe that maybe there were two powers in Heaven, and thus led him down the road to heresy and the epithet Acher.

The story continues that as a result, Metatron was beaten with fiery rods to make a statement that he was not parallel to God, contrary to what Acher believed. Metatron was also asked why he hadn't stood up when Acher arrived, to avoid the conclusion. The answer is that the Metatron had permission to sit in order to "write the merits of Israel."

And, because of this heresy by Acher, Metatron is given permission to erase Acher's good deeds. There is a voice from Heaven saying that all sinners may return- except for Acher. This leads to Acher's purposeful slide into heresy more broadly (his first stop is literally to a sex worker, something that would be unacceptable for a rabbi, to PROVE that he's now gone bad).

(Also worth noting- in the Jerusalem Talmud, an entirely different reason is given for Acher's heresy- not that he believed in dualism but that he was angry about unfair human suffering.)

The story of Acher is interesting, in this context, for two reasons:

it's another indication that Jewish tradition is going to absolutely reject any possibility of duality and

it gives a clear indication of what Metatron's power is

So... we know all that. Now what? (You may already have some inkling.)

Part 2: Cosmic Megatron

I've called this section by this name because everything I'm going to say should be foregrounded by my belief that most of this is likely coincidence.

Metatron is a character in the original book of Good Omens, and as far as I can tell is there to fill two functions- to have a heavenly representative and thus avoid having to write dialogue for God, and so that they can have a joke where Pepper confuses him with the Cosmic Megatron, apparently a toy made of plastic, which features laser cannon and can turn into a helicopter.

(He's also called the Metatron- I'm not 100% sure why.)

We know from what Neil Gaiman has been saying that he and Terry Pratchett wrote the book in a pretty casual way. Obviously, the book is written with a certain amount of knowledge about the Bible and Judeo-Christian** religion, which from things that Gaiman has said I think he attributes to their being two bright, well-read men who were educated in a Christian-majority country but which I'm sure also included a decent amount of research- hence the bit in the beginning with different calculations for the year of creation. (Gaiman is of course Jewish but I don't get the impression that he had any formal Jewish education, though I could be wrong.) But it seems to be written largely as satire of some pretty well known Christian concepts, for the most part, though nicely detailed.

That's why my assumption is that Metatron must have been included as an offhand joke, by one of them who had heard of him as a spokesman figure in some other context. Because despite the fact that the Book of Enoch is known within Christianity, that's largely the 1st Book of Enoch, not the 3rd, which is the one where the name Metatron is identified with Enoch. If there are any scholars of Christianity reading this, please correct me if I'm wrong, but- I don't think that Metatron would be a familiar angelic/heavenly figure to the average person given a cursory de facto Christian thinking in purely Christian terms. Therefore, presumably the name was one that either Pratchett or Gaiman had heard in another context and that one of them (possibly Pratchett, as he was apparently the one who mostly wrote the kids) thought would make for an entertaining joke about plastic toys that turn into other plastic toys.

We then know that in a hotel room, after they wrote Good Omens, Pratchett and Gaiman plotted out a potential sequel, tentatively titled 668: Neighbor of the Beast. We know that this was going to feature more of Heaven's side, as Gaiman said in the run up to the expanded S1 (which of course featured the new-to-us characters of Gabriel, Uriel and Michael) that the angel characters were already part of the plan for the sequel. We also know, of course, that S2 is meant as a transition to S3, which is the actual plot to the sequel book.

Obviously, we don't quite know yet what that plot is going to be- but presumably, at some point in it Aziraphale was going to go up to Heaven. But presumably Gabriel, who we can now be quite confident was written out of S3, would have been part of that story in the book! The fact that we AREN'T getting Gabriel in a S3 that's based on a sequel idea that specifically included Gabriel (or so we're told) means that that role must be filled by someone.

It seems very likely that

what would have been Gabriel's role is being filled by Metatron and

Metatron wasn't necessarily supposed to be in the sequel, and thus (in theory) S3, at all.

Now Point 2 is only a guess, and it's entirely possible that it's wrong. But I wonder (and this is a totally separate theory, in some ways) whether the role that Metatron played in S2 is one that would have been played by Gabriel if Jon Hamm had wanted to stay. The casting of Sir Derek Jacobi in S1 was not one that implied to me that this was a character who they had plans for- it was a one-scene role in a show with a decent number of minor cameos for well known actors. His return this season was honestly a pretty big shock to me- and seems to be setting him up as a significant figure in the upcoming season. (Which, incidentally, seems like one that can be pretty easily acted in voiceover/green screen, making it a good role for an actor who may not want a full six episode season of a show.)

So- whether we accept my above hypothesis as true or not- why Metatron?

Part 3: Cosmic Metatron

So mostly these are questions. I obviously don't know the answers any more than anyone else does. I could even be wrong about some of my basic assumptions as far as the timeline.

But regardless, I think that the use of Metatron will be incredibly interesting this season for a few reasons.

First of all, let's discuss the Book of Life. It is, unlike Metatron, actually in the Bible- both Hebrew Bible and Old/New Testament. (In fact, the Book of Life is mentioned in the Book of Revelation- the main source material for the book/S1!) In Judaism, the Book of Life is actually something that is still part of Jewish tradition to this day. On Rosh HaShana, the first day of the year, our prayer for a new year is so that our names can be put in the Book of Life due to our good deeds.

We already know, from Part 1, that Metatron is God's scribe, who writes down people's good deeds- and while the story of Metatron and Acher above is never directly connected to the idea of the Book of Life, the thematic similarities are undeniable and it seems pretty clear that they're talking about the same idea. So we have a potential connection between Metatron as a potential character in Good Omens with the Book of Life as a potential concept in Good Omens- along with the fact that a person can be erased from the Book of Life with eternal ramifications.

It seems pretty clear that, whatever reason Pratchett and Gaiman may have had for including Metatron in the book, he now has a pretty solid reason for being here in the show, based on what we already know.

Also relevant is the status of Metatron. In the 3rd Book of Enoch, we know that he is God's right hand, head of all the archangels, and even is given a title that connotes him as a "lesser God." Which is, as noted, pretty theologically wild for Judaism, and a big reason why Metatron and Enoch don't get a lot of play in contemporary Jewish theology (besides for mysticism). We also know that it's the idea that there can be TWO powers behind the throne that led Acher to be eternally condemned as a heretic.

Someone posted a VERY interesting meta here- I can't find it right this moment- which suggested that God is no longer really around in the world, and that the Job minisode- the final time in the show's chronology when we hear God's voice as anything but narrator- Heaven is bathed in golden light, whereas afterward it has a more sterile and empty white light. I find that to be an fascinating idea- that Metatron is actually serving in some kind of parallel-God role in God's absence.

I'm not going to pretend to know WHY this is. There are lots of interesting potential plot angles- you could have Metatron deposing God, you could have God purposefully withdrawing from humanity/the bureaucracy of religion (maybe something similar to in Pratchett's Monstrous Regiment, which would actually make quite a bit of sense if this was part of the unwritten sequel as he could have recycled the idea), you could have some kind of a power struggle, etc. But it does seem clear- we have Metatron as what is essentially a Godlike figure, with enough power to completely depose Gabriel, shut down the other angels, and elevate Aziraphale (if that's indeed what he does- he is at least able to convince Aziraphale that he has that power, which is something).

We have a Metatron strong enough for someone to, potentially, question whether maybe HE'S the one exercising Godly power. And potentially face the worst of consequences for those questions, consequences that we know Metatron is able to deal out. Consequences which were already threatened in S2.

Now that would certainly fit in VERY well with the kinds of plots we might expect from a Good Omens 3...

It also could lead to a fascinating dynamic if they give Metatron an origin story of being Enoch. Having the big cheese in Heaven be someone who used to be human? That's a fantastic concept, just like how S2 centered a character for whom so much can be explained by the fact that he's a demon who was once an angel.

Basically, I think there is the potential for some interesting stuff here.

Caveat

None of this answers a separate question that I have- why bring in a Jewish angelic figure for a story as intensely Christian as the Second Coming? I have a feeling that the answer is going to be "because it's fun"- regardless of how Metatron is used. That said, if there ends up being a narrative where there's Metatron representing the vengeful God of the Old Testament and Jesus as a nice dude who represents something more forgiving then... Idunno, I'm not gonna be super thrilled.

And also- I'll put it out here now- I didn't love S2. Among other things, I think it was pretty simplistic and I don't think that it developed its ideas to their full potential. I don't know that I trust S3 to be as interested in these details to have ANY of this show up in the plot. It could totally be that Metatron is only there because he's in the book, and the Book of Life is only there because it's in the Book of Revelation. Obviously, I don't know.

But I do think that, whatever Gaiman does write if the show gets renewed, there's a lot of material here for him to work from, if he wants to.

*with the exception of among Ethiopian Jews- in fact, the only extant complete version of the 3rd Book of Enoch is in the Ethiopian religious language Ge'ez

**this is a terrible term and I use it only under protest

[notesfromthepalace]

I’m planning my trad wedding and white wedding and I’m stressed to the highest capacity. Any Any helpful Tips? Being west African is not for the weak lol. Even considering not getting married traditionally (Nigerian wedding) and just doing my white wedding. I think you mentioned being Ghanaian or your fiancé being Ghanaian are you planning for both ? My family definitely has so many opinions and I’m so over it especially when talking about bride price girl I’m about to elope 😂

Hi Sissy Pooh! And Happy New Year!

How soon is the wedding? And yes, my fiancé is Ghanaian and I am Haitian, and we've definitely dealt with the outside opinions on both sides of our soon to be married family.

But honestly........

Real tea.....

You and him have to stand your ground. I know with foreign cultures, parents and other families feel like they are entitled to try to persuade you to do things how they would have done it - or should do it. But y'all are adults.

But you're right. It can be stressful. And not just because planning a wedding is stressful but I'm pretty sure you both love your families and would love to find some type of resolution where everyone is happy and no one feels disrespected or disregarded in anyway.

I'd start with sitting the people who are stressing you out down - INDIVIDUALLY! People 40+ who always have an opinion act out even more in front of an audience. But sit them down and talk to them assertively, so they understand that this is your life, your wedding, and your marriage most importantly. But be respectful though because deep down, most of the dysfunction and drama comes from a place of love. Our parents, aunties and uncles come from the time where their parents dictated every aspect of their life, even into their adulthood. They are just displaying learned behaviors. We're the ones that God has chosen to unlearn and heal for the future generations to come.

For example:

When I first started dating my fiancé, my mother wanted to dictate how we date, when she would meet him and his family and so on. It honestly got to a point where I had to distance myself from my mom because I felt like every time we talked, it was about how I should go about doing things in my relationship to cater to how she believed it should be. Fast forward to January of 2024, my fiancé and I had decided to move in together and I had to put on my big girl panties and let my mom know. This is where I bring respect into the mix. I had to inform my mother that I was moving in with my fiancé because 1) I was moving to another state and 2) she's my mother and deserves to know of my whereabouts for safety reasons. So instead of taking it as "swallowing my pride" it was more of showing my mom that I am an adult who is going to make decisions that she may not agree with, which is her prerogative, but I am going to proceed with my plans - and that was a statement where there was a period at the end and not a question mark. Meaning I respect you enough to inform you of my decision, but my decision needs to be respected and this is not up for debate. And it wasn't. She definitely didn't agree, but I believe the tone of the conversation showed that I was serious and my decision was final. I also believe the reason there wasn't so much back and forth in the discussion was she didn't have an audience to perform for. I know that sounds crazy but it's true - they love to bring all of the dramatics when there's more eyes and ears.

Honestly Sissy Pooh, you and your fiancé need to sit down together and decide what you want concretely. After that, the people you feel you owe an explanation to (I would cap it at parents if feasible), talk to them individually with respect but assertively. Again, when you marry this man, you go to bed with him at night, not anyone else. If there are things you both want to do or choose not to do, it's no ones job to interfere with it because it will be your marriage, not there's.

But, you'll be fine and I pray the grace of God finds you and your fiancé to make the right decisions needed to go into your marriage.

And remember, keep God in the loop. Marriage is between you, your husband and our creator.

With love,

Sarah Chanel

[vakhiyamusings]

I Need To Do What?! - Part 8

Epilogue - Wizards Are The Absolute Worst!

Anzu's POV:

A month.

It has been an whole month since Anzu last saw Rio. She thought she would be glad to have the menace out of her life but she was wrong. She missed him. But more importantly, she was worried about him.

Joe said the Wizard Council wanted to punish Rio. That was what upset her the most. Did they kill him? Is that why he hadn't popped up in their lives with that infuriating grin?

After the show ended, Anzu and her friends suddenly found themselves in her bedroom. Everyone appeared confused and then relieved once they realised that their memories were still intact.

Three sets of gazes landed on her and Anzu felt a wave of embarrassment. She could never talk to her friends ever again. They had their memories and that was cool and all but it was not good in this context!

How did a girl proceed once she realised that her feelings towards her 3 friends were not strictly platonic? The worse part was that the feelings were reciprocated!

Anzu picked up her pillow and crushed her face against it.

"I think I'm going to die quietly. Why don't you all go on and live your best lives? Don't mind me!" she muttered through the pillow.

"Quite being dramatic! It's not the end of the world knowing that you harbour romantic feelings towards your 3 hot ikeman!" Hijiri said flippantly, pulling the pillow away from her face.

"Of course it's the end of the world! Because I cannot choose one of you and break everyone's hearts in the process! It's actually an impossible situation!" Anzu screeched at him.

"Who said you have to choose?" Hijiri demanded.

The question shut Anzu up completely. Junta and Tsukasa appeared stunned as well.

What followed was a deep discussion of their new relationship. Anzu was flooded with a mixture of guilt, desire and desperation. When all her friends decided that they didn't mind having to simultaneously date Anzu, she couldn't believe it. While the concept wasn't strictly new, it wasn't heard of in modern society. 

When Anzu expressed her doubts, Hijiri merely said, "Who cares what we get up to behind closed doors? It's our life. Not theirs."

Anzu had to concede that it was a very good point indeed.

It was then they noticed the disappearance of their blonde meddling menace. They searched for Rio everywhere but couldn't find any trace of him.

As the days went on, Anzu's fear grew. Were the Wizards cruel and barbaric enough to actually end one of their own? Anzu was starting to believe it might be true.

On the other hand, her romantic life was thriving! The guys had a schedule put up where they chose 2 days every week to take Anzu out on dates. Anzu could choose one day for herself. She seldom chose solitude. Even she did find herself alone, she would cuddle with Momohiki till he ran away from her ministrations.

The guys mostly spent their time at her house. Anzu's parents were actually living in the United States permanently now. They had even bought a house which surprised Anzu. While she missed them, she kind of enjoyed her life here more. As long as they didn't mind what she got up to here, she began to happily build a new life and a future that was looking brighter by the day.

Tsukasa had just finished cooking dinner when the doorbell rang. Anzu opened the door and was surprised to find a short haired blonde girl with blue eyes.

"Riri?" Anzu cried, pulling the girl in for a hug.

"Anzu!" 

"Oh my God! I'm so glad you're back! I thought you were dead! I don't trust that evil Wizard Council! Powerful asshats twiddling their thumbs and swishing that wands at random passers by!"

"Anzu-"

"What happened to you? We missed you so much!" Anzu shook the shorter girl in her arms a bit frantically.

Junta gently pulled Anzu away.

"Why don't we let Riri explain herself in the living room?" Junta dragged Anzu to a nearby seat. He tugged her into his lap and ensured she wouldn't assault the wizard. Anzu was reluctantly impressed by his machinations.

Once they'd all settled in their seats, Riri looked at them all.

"You all look very happy. I'm glad," she said.

"What the fuck happened Riri? Are you alright? Do you need help? Are you in danger?" Anzu demanded. Junta squeezed her waist, subtly telling her to calm down.

"A fiery haired vixen as always," she said with a tinkling laugh.

"To answer your question, no, I'm not in danger. Not anymore," said Riri with a sigh.

"Once the show was over and they sent you here, the Wizard's Council held a meeting regarding my fate. As a Wizard, I wasn't allowed to get too involved with humans and their lives. Being with you, I was able to learn a lot about humans and their emotions. They have short lifespans but lived fully and unapologetically. It was an attractive prospect to someone who has lived a detached, cold life for years," Riri said solemnly.

"They gave me a choice," she whispered in the quiet room.

"I could live as a Wizard but I should never contact you ever again," Riri said quietly.

"Or I could give up my magic and live as a human," she said.

Anzu couldn't believe what she was hearing. 

"You chose to be a human," Anzu muttered to herself.

Riri nodded looking a bit unsure of herself.

Anzu leapt up and hugged Riri tightly. She felt Riri break down in her arms. 

"I love humans! They- Their lives are s-so much fun! I didn't want to go back. I'm - I'm sorry for bothering you, Anzu. I just wanted to be with you. Can I - can I stay?"

Anzu held Riri tightly. 

"You can stay here for as long as you like, Riri. We'll take care of you," she replied.

Riri sobbed harder as her blue eyes lit up in delight and gratitude.

After a solemn dinner, everyone pulled into the living room to watch some TV.

Hijiri was staring at Riri all throughout dinner.

"Is there something wrong Hijiri? You've been staring at Riri all night?" Anzu asked him.

"Weren't you a boy before? Why did the wizards change your gender?" Hijiri asked point blank.

Riri hid her face in her hands appearing chagrined by the question.

"Uh, Riri. You don't have to answer this if it makes you uncomfortable," Anzu rushed to reassure her.

"Oh no. It's not that. The Wizard Council wanted to punish me in some way," she began hesitantly.

"Are you suggesting that being a girl is a punishment?" Anzu asked with a slight growl in her voice. 

"What? No! That's not why! They knew I kinda liked you and also knew that you wouldn't like me back as a girl. At least not in a romantic sense," Riri replied looking down at her hands.

Anzu could only blink in shock at her. She probably swallowed her tongue since she couldn't get words to form.

"How do the wizards know Anzu is straight? They only tested her ability to make romantic connections. They didn't test her sexuality!" Hijiri exclaimed with a raised brow.

All eyes turned on Anzu who wondered if there was a cliff nearby where she could jump off of. Honestly, what was with everyone trying to poke and prod at her at every turn?

"Uh..."

"You were pining for Rio this past month, Anzu," Hijiri pointed out.

Riri appeared delighted by that news.

"I-I was worried!" Anzu defended herself by crossing her arms over her chest.

Riri grinned, stepping closer to her.

"You really do like me!" she said with a beatific smile.

"I tolerate your presence," Anzu corrected.

"We've already kissed twice!"

"What?" Tsukasa appeared surprised.

"No way!" Junta exclaimed.

"It's always the Non Heroines," mused Hijiri out loud.

“No, it’s not!” Anzu protested.

“That’s beside the point. Can we get back to Riri’s punishment? Surely, this can’t be the only reason they made her a girl.”

Riri sighed forlornly.

“You’re right. Living a loveless existence is just a mere side effect,” she cried with big blue eyes. Anzu eyed her suspiciously.

“The real reason they turned me permanently into a girl is because they want me to play a role in increasing Japan’s population. I’m here to help you out in your quest, Anzu!” Riri said with a grin.

Anzu decided that she was going to murder the next wizard she saw.

They had to become extinct.

[emailsmalucantsend]

when you know you know.

WHAT IS LOVE? WHAT SPARKS IT? WHAT MAKES IT REAL?

These are questions I'm sure we've all talked and thought about.

Ive written about soulmates and the very different kinds of love before but today I want to go deeper into it.

I want to find out what it is, how it starts, and what makes it so real.

My all-time favorite song Margaret says that once you truly fall in love with the right person you simply just know.

And I agree with it, I think our gut deserves more credit for all the work it does.

But what kind of feeling is it? Well that I don't really know since as I mentioned a billion times before I haven't found the one yet, but you'll be the first to know when I do find him.

And since I don't know exactly what that feeling is like,I can only deduct from other feelings I felt when meeting people.

Do you know when you meet a friend's friend or boyfriend and you just get that gut feeling that they're a horrible person, and that they're definitely gonna screw your friend over.

Or when you scroll through your crush's following on instagram and you get that womanly instinct that he likes a particular girl and eventually you hear something and you realize you were right.

That's what I think that "when you know, you know" feeling is like.

Going back to my initial question, what is love?

I personally believe that love can't be labeled as just one thing.

Most people believe that love is a feeling, psychology says love is a complex or secondary emotion, which basically means that it's an emotion that consists of other emotions.

From what I know, which mind you is not a lot, love is a place, person, feeling, emotion, way of living.

I think love can truly be anything.

Love can be the look in your parents eyes when they see each other after a long day.

Love can be doing everything within your power to conquer something you've always wanted.

Love can be giving up something about yourself to see someone you love happy.

Love can be crying because your best friend is thousands of miles away, and you just miss her so bad.

Love is saying you loved your mom's food even though you have explicitly hated that particular dish for the last 17 years of your life.

Love is listening to someone talk about some really uninteresting topic for 2 hours straight just to see how their eyes shine a little brighter.

Now onto the tougher questions.

What sparks love?

I think love is a little switch on your brain that can be triggered at any given moment.

Like sometimes you meet someone and you don't exactly click until one day you have a really good conversation with them during class and realize they actually so different from what you thought they were.

I think love can spark from words, actions or maybe even looks.

What makes love real? What separates love from lust?

According to many online resources, trust, respect, and communication are the main things that make love real.

I agree.

Not a lot to question or discuss there, any human being with a brain would agree that love is impossible without trust, respect and most importantly communication.

But how do we know the difference between real raw love and just good ol' lust.

As we've discussed earlier love can't be labeled.

But lust surely can be.

Lust is that magnetic feeling pulling you towards someone really attractive even though you're well aware that they're the biggest man whore you've ever met.

Lust is like buying a new crumbl cookie flavor because it looks so good even though you KNOW it tastes like booty cheeks.

Lust is like watching the most god awful movie just for the aesthetics.

Lust is buying a book you've read and know it sucks just because the author came out with a new cover you think is pretty.

There's also a big difference between loving and wanting to be loved.

Last year I met this super sweet boy and decided to go out with him, no longer believing that I should spend my teen years looking for the love of my life.

Not soon after me and said boy started dating and I can't lie, the guy was awesome, he was sweet and super nice to me always.

But I soon realized that there wasn't a single bone in my body that actually enjoyed being with him.

"But Malu how can you be sure it wasn't lust instead."

I absolutely despised the guy, didn't even feel like kissing him.

That was when I figured out that all this time I wasn't looking for love, I was looking for someone who would love me.

Which honestly sucks more than it sounds like it does.

Bottom line is that love is everything that you see happiness in, if you can't see an ounce of happiness in it, chances are it's not love, and about that "when you know, you know" feeling, I think it's real but not in the literal sense.

Im pretty sure I've felt the feeling but apparently my gut was wrong.

Right now i'm dealing with my own personal "hell".

I don't know if I should keep going, if I should trust my gut and dive in head first, or if I should just call it a day, and admit that I might've been wrong.

Well, whatever I choose you'll know eventually, it'll probably show up on your fyp.

Thank you for reading this, whoever you might be.

January 23rd of 2025 Malu Canto

[alexgasun]

Reading Wrap Up 2023

In 2023 I got back into reading. I loved reading as a child but as I grew older I had less and less time to read. Also I didn't know what to read. When I was in school, classics were most popular but I didn't enjoy reading classic literature. This year, I quit my job and I had a lot of free time. I borrowed my boyfriend's kindle and started reading again. I mostly read fantasy and romance, fantasy romance too. I try reading mostly adult books in these genres because I do enjoy reading some smut.

I've read 102 books in total, DNF-ed 52. So, here is my list of the best, most mediocre and the worst books I've read.

Best books 2023 : 1. The Jasad Heir by Sara Hashem (adult fantasy romance)- this is book 1 in The Scorched Throne duology. Second book release date has not been announced yet. In this story we follow Sylvia, lost and presumed dead heir to Jasad. Sylvia's main goal is to survive. She has no plans to reclaim the throne or help her people who are murdered for their magic.

2. Silver in the Bone by Alexandra Bracken (young adult fantasy, romance) - book 1 in Silver in the Bone series. I'm not sure how many books there will be in the series. There is no release date for book 2. In this story we follow siblings who are searching for Arthurian ring. The world is very well constructed. It's magical, dark.

3. Children of Fallen Gods by Carissa Broadbent (adult fantasy romance) - book 2 in The War of Lost Hearts trilogy (complete). I don't want to write much about premise of this book because I'm afraid to spoil anything for anyone. You definitely need to read book 1 Daughter of No Worlds before you read book 2. Book 2 is told in 3 POVs, 2 of them are connected and one of them is kind of independent. All I will say is that this book is heartbreaking, beautiful, tense and emotional. The ending is my Roman Empire. And it's the best book in the series, in my opinion.

4. Tress of Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson (young adult fantasy romance) - part of the Cosmere series (ongoing) which consists of mostly independent stories. I decided to read this because TikTok won't shut up about Brandon Sanderson. I've seen how thick his books are and I want to avoid them, no matter how great they may be. But Tress of Emerald Sea is about 500 pages and it was a very light read. And, most importantly, so much fun. In this story we follow Tress, who leaves her island to search for her beloved. Such a magical work. It takes you back to good parts of your childhood, I don't know how to explain it.

5. A Sky Beyond the Storm by Sabaa Tahir (young adult fantasy romance) - book 4 of An Ember in the Ashes series (complete). It's a final book in the series. You definitely need to read previous books to appreciate this work. Again, I don't want to spoil anything so all I will say that this is a perfect ending to the series. It wraps everything up, there are no questions left. So devastatingly beautiful, sad, hopeful. I'm tearing up as I'm writing this. I do want to mention that I would not qualify this as a young adult book. There are some pretty heavy topics involved, there is gore and torture (which is described in detail too). Definitely check out warnings.

6. At The End There Was You by Wendy Heiss (fantasy romance). Pretty short novella, not part of any series. The God of Death has announced that he will destroy the world in 7 days. We follow Winter, our main character, as she assists Azriel - a mage in trying to find a way to avoid the end of the world. Beautifully written. Some heavy topics discussed/mentioned.

7. Assistant to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer (young adult/adult fantasy romance). Book 1 in Assistant to the Villain trilogy (ongoing). The author recently announced book 2 release date (August 2024). This book is a very light read even though some heavy topics are discussed. If you want something "serious", deep. intricate and complicated you should probably skip this one. The main reason why I have it in the list of Best books is because of the romance. I'm a sucker for a slowburn, especially in fantasy genre and romance storyline in Assistant to the Villain is exactly what I want to see. In this book we follow Evie - the main provider of her family - as she works as an assistant to The Villain. The main plotline revolves around the Villain and Evie trying to find out who is the spy in their castle.

8. The Right Move by Liz Tomforde (contemporary sports romance, adult) - book 2 in Windy City series (ongoing). There are 3 books in the series so far, mostly independent from each other with reoccurring characters. In this story we follow Indy, who has recently ended a relationship and needs a play to crash and Ryan, who is captain in a basketball team. Just read it.

9. Yours Truly by Abby Jimenez (contemporary adult romance) - book 2 in Part of Your World series (I'm not sure whether there will be more books in this series). You don't have to read book 1 but I do recommend it. The main female character is Briana - recently divorced, overworked. Her brother is sick so she takes care of him too. She's hoping to get promoted in the hospital but suddenly, a new doctor appears! Understandably, initially tensions are high. I must say, this might be my favorite romance of all time. Jacob is the best book boyfriend ever. There is no one like him. His universe revolves around Briana. Sorry, I'm a sucker for simps.

This list was supposed to include one more book but it's published under St. Martin's Press against which there is ongoing creator's boycott. While I'm not a creator and have 0 followers, I still want to support the boycott so I will not be mentioning the book title or the author. Also somehow this list took me almost an hour to write and the post is already huge. Will to mediocre books list in another post

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Vernal: Hey!

Shay: Does That Tail take ten gallons?

V+S: GAHAHAHAHAH! WHOO! HahHaha!

Tyrian: ... *Grins, Raising his stinger to strike*

~~~~~

Junior: SOMEBODY IN HERE AIN'T A REAL MAN!

Ren and Jaune are Sneaking out of Junior's bar

Junior: YOU!

Ren and Jaune Freeze

Junior: We're on a Baby hunt, and don't think we don't know how to weed 'em out!

Junior: NOW EVERYBODY LINE UP!

Junior: D.J. Time for the Test!

Playful music echoes through the otherwise quiet club

Junior: No Pumpkin Munchin' Peter Greeter can resist singing along to This!

Jaune: Ren! It's the Pumpkin Pete Theme song!

Ren: *Has heard Jaune sing it one too many times* I know.

Speakers: I'm a pumpkin Eater, Yeah! You're a pumpkin Eater,Yeah! We're all Pumpkin eater's, YEAH!

Junior: IT WAS YOU! YOU'RE THE PUMPKIN EATER!

Marrow: No No! I Only Coughed! I swear!

Junior: ... DJ! TURN IN UP LOUDER!

Junior: *Continues, Pausing on Jaune*

Jaune: *Fighting with every ounce of will he has not to sing, outright unaffected by Ren's semblance* MMMMMM-

Junior: I'm a pumpkin Eater, Yeah.

Jaune: *Struggling*

Junior: You're a pumpkin Eater, Yeah.

Jaune: *Melting*

Junior: We're all Pumpkin Eater's, Yeah-

Jaune: *DEEP BREATHE*

???: Pumpkin Munchin' Peter Greeters YEAH!

Junior: Well Well WELL! Which one of you Baby's was it!

Sun and Neptune: *Pointing at each other* IT WAS HIM!

Sun and Neptune: HE DID!

Sun and Neptune: I'VE NEVER EVEN EATEN ANY PUMPKIN PETE'S PUMPKIN TREAT CEREAL YEAH!

Sun and Neptune: *Slaps Hands over the other's mouth*

Junior: WELL! LOOKS LIKE WE GOT OURSELVES A DOUBLE BABY!

*Horn Sounds*

*Brawling Takes place*

~Back in Vale~

Everyone: *Grimmified, making statues of Salem* All hail Salem! All Hail Salem!

Zwei: *Also Gimmified, pulling a massive Stone* Barll! Rail! Ralem!

~In Beacon tower~

Oscar: *Petrified*

Salem: Well Ozma, You know what today is? Sorry to do this Calender- March 14th! Wait! That's Not Right!

Salem: It should say THE DAY THAT OZMA FRIES! *Evil Cackling*

*The Brother Gods Begin descending*

Salem: Ooh! Guess who's Here~

~~~~~

Jaune: You're Right! We are just a bunch of kids!

Salem: *Smug*

Pyrrha: Hopeless Romantics ...

Penny: Made of Wingnuts!

*Spotlights close in the group as*

Salem: *Confused*

Ren: We may even be-

Nora: "KnuckleheadMcspazotrons!"

Ren: *Nods in agreement*

*Fog Rolls in*

Salem: W-wait, what's going on here?

Ruby: But Most Importantly We're-

Salem: Wait-

Ruby: We're!

Salem: Okay Settle down!

Ruby: WE'RE!

Salem: Take it easy!

Ruby: *Eyes Flashing Silver* WE'RE!

Salem: WHAT THE SAL- I MEAN ME!

Ruby: *Exploding in Silver Light* WE'RE ALL RED LIKE ROSES!

ROCK!

~~~~~

Pyrrha: Hey, Jaune? There's something I should've said ... Well, at least six days ago. After going on that life-changing journey, I now realize how foolish it is to hide one's true feelings from their friends and family. From those that trust them, and those they trust.

Pyrrha: I partially agreed to, and did so many strange things in an effort to impress you along this journey, only to realize how you feel about me is how you feel about me, and to change myself or act out of character to make you feel anything more will end up making you feel so much less.

Pyrrha: I love you Jaune. More than a Friend, not like a Sister. I love-love you Jaune. And it makes me happy enough to know that you and Penny are happy together. You deserve it.

Jaune: O-oh, well, There's something we need to tell you.

Pyrrha: ?

Penny: We were discussing it, and we were hoping to invite you as a third member of our romantic relationship!

Jaune: Do you ... wanna go on a date with us?

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!

~FREEZE FRAME~

Ocean man! Take me by the hand Lead me to the land, That you Understand-

Jaune: I have a crush on someone.

Ruby: Really? who?

Pyrrha: *eavesdropping*

Jaune: Well, they're a redhead.

Pyrrha: !!!

Jaune: They have beautiful green eyes!

Pyrrha: (IS IT ME?)

Jaune: A brilliant swords woman, in the top of her class!

Pyrrha: (IT IS ME!!)

Jaune: Her name starts with a "P"

Pyrrha: (JAUNE! JAUNE JUST SAY IT!)

Ruby: is it Pyrrha!

Jaune: What? No, She's like a sister to me.

Pyrrha: *Glass_Shatter.wav*

Jaune: It's Penny! Duh.

Pyrrha: *Gmod Ragdolls*

[lostinlewis]

Old Flame ~ Part Two

Rating: M

Words: 3442

Character: Lewis Hamilton x F!Reader

Description: You learnt so much from your first love but the most important lesson he taught you was how to deal with heartbreak, even if it takes you six years. You were almost there, you almost made it days at a time without thinking about him…that was until he turned up in the most unexpected of places.

Seven hundred and thirty hours, it had been seven hundred and thirty hours, one whole month to be more precise, since your encounter with Lewis, and you were pretty sure you had spent at least seven hundred of those hours thinking about him. 

You had cycled through all of the coping mechanisms you knew to distract yourself from thoughts of him but it was fruitless, nothing and no one could stop you from finding yourself staring into space as you ran through memories you shared with the only person you had ever really loved, except for that one thing you knew always brought you back down to reality; you Googled him. 

If Lewis was just some guy, Googling him would have provided a page of results if you were lucky, however Lewis was not just some guy, he never really had been. Articles upon articles discussing his every move filled the pages. Think pieces on his outfits, on his cars, and of course his dating life appeared. There were pictures too, so very many pictures of him and others, mostly female, papped in streets and events across the globe. 

As you looked at each one, and of course you looked, you felt the pinprick pain cover your skin, anxiety and grief, a fine mixture. You studied every inch of every woman that stood beside him. Each looked like a model, they were everything you didn’t feel you were yourself. They were all young, beautiful and slim, they wore clothes you would never dare to wear, and most importantly they looked as if they belonged next to him; something you had never truly felt you did. 

You had known forever that you were not the kind of girl he would settle down with, Lewis was never meant for normal, Lewis was meant for remarkable, he was meant for success, he was meant for a relationship that would only ever be the envy of others, one that was labelled a ‘Power Couple’, he was meant for everything you could never be, you were normal and Lewis was not, he was remarkable and he deserved someone remarkable too. 

-

The drive to your mum's house was narrated by the sounds of Sza’s album, each song was relatable, her lyrics spoke to your soul. 

‘I try to keep from losin' the rest of me/I worry that I wasted the best of me on you, baby’

You cared not for who could see you singing along to every word as if you were Sza herself, nor did you worry about the tears streaming down your face as you let emotions out that you had suffocated for so long, emotions that now tested the strength of your waterproof mascara, as well as they tested your sanity. 

Before you switched off your engine you knew there was one more thing you had to do, you turned your music up to loudest possible volume, clutching the steering wheel with a herculean grip you let out a scream, a long deep scream to bring and end to the breakdown you had scheduled for that morning. 

-

“Are you okay? You are awfully quiet today.”

Your mum had always been intune to your feelings, it had never mattered how much you persisted that you were fine when you were not, she knew, she always knew.

“I’m going to tell you something but please be sane about it.” You knew that request was pointless, your mum could be sane about nothing involving him. “I saw Lewis.” 

“Oh, you did?” 

Her response was normal, unemotive, had she finally grown to hate the man as you had requested for so many years?

“Is that it? You don’t want to tell me how this was fate intervening? How it was time to give him another chance? How beautiful our babies would be? Wow mum, you really have grown.”

“Well, darling you know-”

“Oh my god, you already know don’t you? How do you know, mum?” 

The realisation hit you hard as you read the expression that she barely tried to hide on her face.

“Darling, calm down…” 

“No mum, what the actual…explain, everything, now!” 

You could feel your face flush with a burning anger, the betrayal hit as hard as his had all those years ago. She was your mum, not his. She was supposed to be on your side, not his. 

“I’m sorry, I knew this was how you would react, that’s why I didn’t tell you-”

“Tell me what, mum?”

Your leg bounced up and down as your body desperately tried to release the anger that was boiling over within you. 

“You know that Lewis and I were always very close, I thought of him as a son. When you broke up, when you left him…he called me first to find out if you were still alive and then to apologise.” She hadn’t made eye contact with you once, she knew she’d betrayed you. “It started as innocently as that, then he’d call once a week…always on a Sunday evening after his race to keep me updated, he knew I enjoyed hearing how he did. He’s won so many races, did you know?” 

“Are you actually serious right now?” 

“Sorry, I’m just proud of him.”

“You’re proud of the guy who destroyed me, mum? You know what, fine.” 

“No sweetie, it’s just-” 

You were not prepared to wait around to hear more of her pathetic excuses. You had always known she was fond of him, you just didn’t ever realise she was more fond of him than she was of you.

“Since you care so much about him, more than your own daughter's feelings clearly, I’ll just leave.” 

You heard your mum attempt to chase after you but it was pointless, the anger and betrayal had powered you out of the door and into your car before she had even had the chance to get near. 

-

The tears flooded your cheeks once more, the betrayal, so much betrayal, how could the two people who swore to love you unconditionally hurt you in unimaginable ways? 

Your fingers found his name in your phone and pressed the call button before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing.

“Hello?” 

“How fucking dare you still speak to my mum?” 

The words fell out of you in a vicious scream, a hiss of spite as you wanted answers from the one man you swore you would never speak to again.

“Baby, I-” 

“No, don’t baby me! I can’t believe you would…I can’t believe she would betray me like that.” 

Your voice broke as you cried uncontrollably, if you had an ounce of rationale within you in the moment you would have kept strong with your anger but instead you were powerless to the upset that engulfed the fire of anger. 

“She didn’t betray you, it’s my fault. I love your mum, she’s been a mum to me too at times. I shouldn’t have kept in contact with her, I just needed to know you were okay, you disappeared and I couldn’t contact you. I needed to know you were alive, at least.” 

His voice was quiet, a stark contrast to your screams. 

“Maybe it would have been easier if I wasn’t.” 

“No. Do not say that. Do not even play with that.” His voice rose an octave. “Are you driving right now?”

“So what if I am?” 

“Pull over, please. You’re too riled up to drive safely.” 

“No, you don’t get to-”

“Pull over. If you don’t, I will call the police and tell them there’s a crazy drunk woman that needs to be stopped.” 

“But I haven’t been drinking.” 

“Yes and they will realise that when they pull you over, but at least they would have made you stop.” 

“Fine.” You said through gritted teeth. “Happy now? I’ve stopped.” 

“Very. Now you’re going to breathe, I will talk to you until you calm down.”

“And if I don’t calm down?”

“Then you’ll be stuck talking to me for eternity, you don’t want to do that now do you?”

You could hear his smug smirk through the phone. He spoke to you for a whole hour, about racing, about fashion, about anything he could think of just to distract you from your thoughts. He made you smile, he made you laugh but most importantly, he made you forget you hated him, if only for that brief moment. 

-

Your evening was a mix of dancing around the house to your favourite Spotify and drinking wine, lots and lots of wine. Your music was so loud you almost didn’t hear the knock at your door. 

You opened it so casually, without checking through the peephole first, figuring that it was just your neighbour coming by to ask you to turn the music down, again.

“Hi.” 

Fuck. 

Clad in an oversized lilac sweater, matching cargo trousers and ridiculously big boots, clutching the prettiest bouquet of flowers you had ever seen. 

“What are you-how did you even find me?” You wanted to slam the door shut, escape this absolute nightmare of a situation as fast as you could but you didn’t. “Mum…I’m going to kill her!” 

You left the door open as you rushed to find your phone, ready to tear into your mum, not even considering that you had just invited him inside your home unintentionally. 

“Wait…Stop.” He grabbed the phone from your hand. “She was worried about you, so she begged me to come and check on you.” 

Your face was still a scowl, how many times were they both going to conspire against you?

“I can go if you want?” 

“You’re here now.” You inched away from him, you needed another drink. “Would you like one?” 

You wanted to scream at him, at her, at the both of them. How did you end up in this situation? How was Lewis now sitting on your sofa, still clutching the bouquet of flowers like a nervous sixteen year old waiting to take his date to prom? 

“These are for you.” He handed you the bunch. “Is red still your favourite colour?”

“Yes, thank you.” You smelt them before putting them to the side. 

Lewis accepted your offer of a drink, even though he didn’t normally drink anything, he was clearly just as nervous as you in this situation.

 “Please ignore the…well the whole place, really.” 

Suddenly you were very aware that you had this mega rich super famous guy on the sofa of your very modest, somewhat untidy apartment. 

“I like it, it’s cute…very you.” He looked around the room, taking in every detail much to your annoyance. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes…well I mean, no. I’m too tipsy and too tired to scream at you, if that’s what you are asking?” You sipped at your wine, the harsh taste masked your anxious thoughts. 

“That’s good, I don’t think my ears could handle much more of that.” You both smiled as he feigned ear pain. “But, I mean, about everything? About me being here?” 

You looked at him, his locs sitting loosely on his head, his nose piercing glistened every now and then as the light from a candle reflected off of it. His soft smile, his kind eyes, everything about him was so beautiful. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol freeing you of your inhibitions but you could see the man you fell in love with once more, rather than the man you hated. 

“That’s a loaded question, Lewis. But, I’m okay with you being here…for now”

“You look absolutely beautiful, by the way.” 

“Shut up, no I don’t!” 

You laughed at his absurdity. You were wearing what you called your comfy clothes, a tracksuit about five times too big for you and your makeup was still smudged around your face from the endless stream of tears that ruined it earlier in the day.

“You don’t get to decide that.” He took your hand, you didn’t pull it away. “You look beautiful, to me. You were always the most beautiful woman in every room.” 

You allowed yourself to fall into his gaze, to get lost in the rhythm of his thumb stroking circles on your hand until you caught yourself losing control. 

“That changed fast, it’s a different supermodel every week now, isn’t it?” 

He screwed his face up at you, looking almost offended at the suggestion he was superficial enough to only find beauty in the obvious. 

“How do you even know that? Have you been Googling me?”

“I think everyone’s seen the pictures, Lewis. You’re constantly pictured, all over the world, a new girl on your arm in every picture.” 

You hoped your teasing hid your jealousy but that was pitiful, both of you could feel the aura of envy that laced every word. 

He locked his fingers in yours, so intimate yet innocent the contact he made was. He was always such a touch focused partner, his hands constantly had to be on you in some form, a hand on your thigh as he drove, a hand on the small of your back as you socialised. You missed it, you missed always being the focus of his attention, even in a crowded room. 

“Did you notice something in all of those pictures?” 

“What? That everyone in it was ridiculously beautiful?”

His eye roll felt so exaggerated yet you could tell he meant it.

“No, just how many different women there were.” 

“Are you bragging now? Ew.” 

“I don’t need to brag, baby.” There was his smug smirk once more. “What I meant was, look how many different women I have met, spent time with, tried to make it work with, yet none of them stayed for very long. Do you know why that is?”

“They got bored of your in depth analysis of every move you made on the track the previous weekend?”

“Can you be serious for five minutes, please?” Lewis was getting frustrated with your making light of his words. “And if you must know, they all found my company fantastic, thank you very much!” 

“Whatever. Tell me then, why did none last?” 

“Because none of them were you. Supermodels, actresses, singers…none of them filled even half the hole you left in my heart when you disappeared.” 

“Lewis…” 

You felt him pull your hand just enough to move you closer to him on the sofa. Butterflies engulfed your stomach, you felt an unwanted tingle down below as he pulled you until your face was just inches away from his. 

“Lewis…please…” 

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, you could smell his signature scent, you could feel his heart racing as you leant up against his torso, staring deep into his eyes. 

“Tell me you don’t still love me, tell me that I don’t give you butterflies in the pit of your stomach anymore.” He brushed your lips with his, the tip of his nose grazing your own. “Tell me to go and I’ll go.”

He took your silence as permission and kissed you. In that moment, you melted into him. He was gentle with his kisses, such tender movements, you could feel how nervous he was to scare you away as he kissed you. 

Your tongues danced together like they were long lost lovers, his hands brushed up your sides, so careful he was of moving too quickly with you, he settled for the feel of your waist, for now. 

He gently laid you back on the sofa without breaking your kiss, worried that if he let you think in that moment you might shy away from him, he purred into your lips as he climbed on top of you. 

Taking all of his weight on his forearms, he allowed only his hardness to press against you, as if he wanted to remind you of all that he offered, as if it was possible for you to ever forget. 

His lips traced from your kiss, across your jawline, never once lifting the pressure on your middle as he nibbled at your neck. You let out a little moan as he sucked at the skin, leaving his mark on what had been forbidden to him for so long now. His hand roamed up your sweatshirt, gently rolling your nipple between the pads of his finger and thumb, not settling until he heard the yelp you let out.

Your breathing was shallow now as he brought his lips over to suck the teat. His other hand slipped under the waistband of your sweatpants. He groaned, your nipple still between his lips, as he drew his middle finger through your wet folds before resting on your nub. 

He caught the moan that escaped your lips with his own, burying his tongue in your mouth before sucking on yours, his finger drawing soft circles on your clit.

“I need to taste you.” 

He trailed your body with kisses before pulling off your sweatpants. He kissed up the inside of your thighs, your core was pulsating now, so much so you were sure he would be able to feel it the closer his face got. He brought one hand up to yours, locking his fingers in between to steady you as his tongue pressed hard against your clit. 

Your whole body shook as he began to work you, you moaned into the air, he was still an expert at pleasing you and he was determined to do just that. He lapped at your middle like you were the only thing that would satisfy his hunger. You could feel him bringing you closer and closer, your high building with every pressured motion of his tongue. He could feel it building too, he squeezed your hand tighter to encourage you. He wanted it, he wanted to taste every last drop of you, he wanted you to give him your essence, he wanted to devour every part of you. 

“Oh my-Lewis.” 

You cried out at him, your body arching, you held your breath as he increased the speed now, desperate to push you over the edge. You squeezed his hand tightly at your peak. You came undone all over his tongue so quickly, your orgasm sitting so fiercely that all you could do was shake as you desperately tried to regain breath. 

He lapped it all up, moaning himself as the juices flowed from you. He didn’t stop once, only decreasing the pressure slowly, making your high last as long as possible until you were so sensitive you whimpered at every touch. 

He brought his face back up to level with yours, his fingers still locked in yours, he brought your legs to a close and wrapped them across his lap. You stared at him for a moment, his smile decorated with the glistening evidence of your undoing. You kissed him this time, tasting yourself on his tongue. You moved your free hand down to his waistband but he brushed it away, quickly. 

“But-”

“No baby, tonight was all about making you feel good.” He mumbled. “There’s plenty of time for that.” 

He brought your head down to his shoulder, one of his hands stroked the outside of your thigh, the other locked in your hand as you both fell asleep right where you sat. 

-

The sunlight broke through your curtains, it took you a moment to remember who it was you were laying with but when you did, when you saw that he was still holding you as if he was scared you were going to disappear, you felt warm. You felt home, for the first time in six years, you felt like you were home. 

You gently wriggled out from under him, he stirred but didn’t wake. You were grateful for the moment alone to gather your thoughts, before being faced with the next steps. You didn’t know what you wanted to do. Every sensible part of you screamed for you to stay away from him but your heart didn’t. The beautiful man that lay on your sofa, so soft he looked in that moment, innocent if it wasn’t for what you knew he was capable of. He was all you had ever wanted since the age of seventeen, he was your first and last love. 

You noticed the flowers he bought still laid on the side, you picked them up to put them in some water. It was then that you noticed the card that was strapped to the side. 

‘We are so much bigger than what we’ve been through.’ 

PART THREE