#help me i fear i will be attacked for this

[pedgito]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Jesse (TLOU) x reader

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summary | During a tense moment, Jesse has a devastating realization.

author's note | built around this request - this fit with an idea i already had sorta half outlined a couple weeks ago. this is unbeta'd, so if there's any mistakes just let me know!

content warning | 18+ MDNI, established friendship, loss of parents mention, tommy/joel being a father figure to reader, angst, unrequited feelings come to the surface, teasing, reader taking care of jesse in small ways, protected piv, very earnest dirty talk lmao, mentions of past relationships - can be pictured as either game or show jesse, i just adore young.

word count — 4.3k

He’s witnessed the best and worst of you.

And you, him.

The worst being when you parents died during a night attack on Jackson, a group of clickers hitting a weak point of Jackson’s bordering walls—you were lucky enough to survive because you were staying at Tommy and Maria’s that night, watching Benjamin while they used the freed up time to treat themselves to some normalcy, a date.

Jesse had held you in his arms while you cried, ordered by Tommy to stick close with you and Benjamin while he and a few other patrolmen dealt with the bodies, gave them a proper burial.

Tommy hadn’t meant to take you in so quickly, but you often drifted to his home for comfort.

Maria sensed the deep abandonment you felt, also realizing how much Benjamin clung to your presence. It helped relieve some of their worry knowing you had something to distract yourself and that they could catch up with more of the repairs around Jackson while you kept their son busy.

Eventually, you’re old enough for patrol.

Tommy starts you out with Joel, similar to his brother, he treats you with a soft, but firm guiding hand and after six months of consistent patrolling, Tommy pairs you up with Jesse.

Though, with minor hesitation.

He’s your leader for group patrols, but as you show more interest in wanting to go out in pairs, he was the safest bet—Tommy was also quick to pick up on the spark of friendship you had with him.

Shy and quiet, but there was trust.

He’d also given Jesse the talk about keeping you safe.

The sort of protect her with your life or it was his ass type deal.

Jesse isn’t surprised to see how well you handle patrol, killing infected without even a flinch, rolling with any punches thrown your way—you’ve always been strong.

He’s only surprised by how easily you’ve become the closest thing to family outside of his own, and Dina, who he seemed to have a tumultuous relationship with most of the time.

You never judged, only listened, joked with him about their unsteadiness on occasion.

Were they on? Were they off? It was always a gamble.

Based on the way his head was bowed, trudging around the snowy property without speaking a word, they were off—like…off off. Usually it lasted a couple days, sometimes a week, but he’s been this way for a month, looking increasingly more somber as time went on.

He never went into his and Dina’s fights—what they were about or who, why he often distanced himself from you when they were together despite his habit of sneaking in a few patrols with you just for the ease of it.

Everything was easy with you.

You’re always checking on him, fussing over him—Jesse doesn’t seem to mind, almost expecting it with how much he’s received from his mother or Dina, but with you, it was less about undermining him.

He felt reassured, knowing you didn’t worry about him in the same way they did, fearful of his fearless nature, carrying some of that yourself, you just wanted to keep him sharp and let him know that you had his back.

That’s why you spot it first—the fraying strap on his thigh holster, one good tug away from snapping in half.

"You’re gonna rip that thing and then whine about it the whole ride back," you break the silence, staring at him until his eyes drop to his leg, stopping in place as you’re already dropping to your knees in front of him without waiting for permission, “do you have any tape left? I know we stopped using it for marking but Joel likes to keep it in his pack and—”

Jesse chuckles low in his throat, his stomach doing a strange flip as you settle into the cold, wet snow without a care. "I’m not a whiner,”

"You are absolutely a whiner," you fire back easily, fingers working the strap loose from the buckle. Your gloves slip awkwardly against the leather, so you peel them off and toss them aside, “a goddamn cry baby, actually.”

Bare fingers are quicker, more precise.

Jesse swings his pack over his shoulder and digs through it quietly, pulling out an unpleasantly colored green role of tape and hands it to you, finding amusement in the scrunch of your nose in disgust as you spot the shade, “Gross,” you mutter, ripping it apart with your teeth as you situate the holster until it feels secure enough and tape it excessively.

“What a great thing to say while you’re down there,” Jesse jokes, shaking his head with a furrow in his brow as he slips his backpack back on, “really boosts egos, you know?”

“Who’s boosting your ego?” you ask accusatory, the slick smirk following like clockwork.

You don't even realize you’ve braced your free hand on the inside of his thigh for balance, fingertips pressing lightly into the warm, solid muscle there, even through the fabric of his cargo pants, peering up at him in question, “S’not me.”

Jesse does realize, though.

It was a strange feeling, fleeting, a glimpse of you he’s never seen before.

Every muscle in his body goes tight, locked up like you’ve got a knife to him instead of the gentleness of your touch. He’s breathing slow and shallow, willing himself to stay still as you lean in, tilt your head as you secure the holster in place properly, nearly eye level with his groin and focused entirely on fixing him.

Like you always do.

For a moment, he forces himself to look away, hands settled into his jacket pockets as he squints under the bright winter sky, praying the snow would blind him for a brief moment.

When his eyes do finally flick down, he catches the way your brows draw together in concentration, the way your mouth tugs into a little frown, your teeth biting into your bottom lip. 

And for a moment, so briefly Jesse thinks he’s gone insane, he imagines you making that face for him in a specific way that he blames on the frustration that has built within him the past few weeks and immediately hates himself for it.

"Almost done," you say softly, tugging at the wrinkled fabric of his pants until the holster is fit properly again, glancing up curiously.

That's when it hits him like a pile of fucking bricks.

You're looking up at him from between his knees, face soft despite the harsh breeze of snow, hands finding purchase with confidence on his body, almost surgical. Calculated.

There's nothing flirty about it. Nothing intentional. Nothing sexual.

Yet still, he can’t breathe.

You make a small noise of satisfaction, a squeak that Jesse wouldn’t have heard had he not been so tuned in to your every move, smiling as you stand, additionally fixing his beanie on his head for good measure and only a small attempt to tease him.

You slap his chest lightly as he stares, attempting to break him out of his strange stupor and it takes everything in Jesse to not grab your hand, curl his fist around your wrist, and drag you back into the building where your other supplies lay dormant in wait for the night to come.

Instead, he stays frozen. You're already shifting to stand, brushing snow from your knees, acting as if nothing was wrong—because for you, there wasn’t. But, you notice Jesse’s silent gaze as he follows your movement and you pause, waving a playful hand in front of his face.

"You good?" you ask, cocking your head at him.

"Yeah," Jesse says after a moment of hesitation, almost as if he had to force it out. He clears his throat, forces his eyes away from your mouth as you notice his gaze linger there. "Yeah. Thank you.”

Weird, you think. 

But, Jesse had a strange sense of humor on occasion, assuming this was just a ploy to fuck with you, unsettle you a bit. 

Though, something lingers as you step away, feeling his gaze return as you turn your back.

It seemed better to be left unspoken.

–

The fire crackles as you feed it a few more broken twigs, coaxing the flames higher to battle the cold. You shiver, pushing aside your dirty plates from dinner, pulling your sleeves over your hands as you sit back on your heels and cross your legs, sitting snug beside him against the wall.

And Jesse’s quiet.

He’s been quiet.

Strained quiet, not cautious like there was an impending sense of danger looming.

It was the kind of quiet that screamed avoidance.

"Careful, stare too long and you’re gonna scare the fire out," you tease him, nudging his foot with your boot, his hands curling into fists against his knees at the totally and completely normal gesture on your end.

Jesse snorts— but it isn’t him, a little too forced. "I’m just thinking…bored, you know?"

This was ridiculous—and unfortunately for Jesse, you had always been a straight shooter.

Plainly, you confront him, turning slightly in place to face him, "You’ve been acting weird ever since I fixed your thigh holster. Did I make you uncomfortable? Because, if you’re ever bothered by it, you can tell me—"

Jesse glances at you once, then down, and guiltily back up at you.

He doesn’t even have a response. He’s locked up, cornered.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Jesse offers eventually.

“Well, something is—you’re never this quiet with me,” you point out, resisting the urge to nudge him with a finger, scared he might scurry away.

“It’s really fuckin’ stupid, actually,” Jesse decides, forcing out an awkward, quiet laugh.

“Hey, tell me,” you urge him gently, your eyes widening with earnestness and Jesse hates that look—it is impossible to counter, seeing the creeping sense of emotion in your eyes.

Jesse avoids your gaze and shifts where he sits, propping his elbows on his knees, intertwining his fingers as he stared into the fire like it might spare him from answering and cause him to burst into flames.

"It wasn't anything you did," he says after a minute, voice low. "You were just—"

He cuts himself off, huffing out a breath of disbelief that he was having to admit this to you.

You lean in a little closer without thinking, hand curling around his forearm thoughtlessly, chasing after the words he won't give you.

"Jesse, just spit it out," you prod, a laugh mixed in with your sincerity.

Jesse lets out a slow, rough exhale, the kind that sounds like it's been sitting in his chest all day. 

"You were just lookin' at me," he says finally, looking at you with a sudden weariness you’ve never seen with him, "Touchin' me. And I—"

Oh.

Oh.

But, Jesse would be lying if he said this was just a lapse of judgment.

There had been hints for a while, sprinkled throughout your friendship.

Both of you cared a little more than just friends, but left the heaviness of that unspoken.

“I touch you a lot,” you joke lightly, hoping to ease his worry and maybe even convince yourself of something you weren’t sure you were ready to face; deep down, there was always that flutter in your stomach when Jesse smiled at you, but you often brushed it off.

He was your best friend—it was natural.

“Someone’s gotta take care of your shit,” you continue, pointing at the tattered strap of his backpack, “this shit is a damn hazard.”

He almost laughs.

But Jesse’s still tense, jaw working like he's fighting a war inside his mind. 

You see the exact moment he gives up trying to hide it too—when he turns to look at you fully, really looks at you, and there’s nothing friendly about it.

You reach for him instinctively, your hand scratching over his cheek with blunt nails, gentle as you feel him lean into the caress, “Jesse,” you say quietly, his name loaded with emotion.

Respect, trust, fear, admiration.

“Tommy would fuckin’ kill me,” Jesse jokes, “Shit, Joel, too.”

“I’m not their kid,” you counter, “I’m not a kid. S’that what you’re worried about? Them?”

“I’m not really worried about them,” he says quietly, his voice tight, but it’s a half-truth.

Tommy did scare him on occasion, knowing how protective he had grown over you, “I’m worried about this,” He pauses, swallowing hard. "We’re friends, I like that. I’d die without it, I think."

He pauses for a moment, then suddenly, it flows out.

“I saw you, looking up at me,” Jesse shakes his head, “on your knees—”

You snicker softly, “O-kay,” you’re beginning to understand now.

You’re not sure why, but you move. 

Not to him, rather in front of him, stripped of your jacket and the front of your top droops slightly as you shift to your knees and offers a full view of your chest, hands curling around his boots.

“What are you thinking now?” you ask curiously, hands curling over his knees as you move in closer, his legs spreading to accommodate you as you scoot forward on your knees.

“This isn’t funny,” Jesse retorts, sinking as far back into the wall as physically possible before you’re settled back on your legs, spread out underneath his, his feet planted as you rest your hands against his knees.

“I’m not laughing, am I?” you challenge him, “Seriously, what are you thinking right now?

“I can’t even,” Jesse shakes his head in disbelief, “I don’t know—”

“I’m trying to test temporary insanity as an option,” you offer, though it was mostly a joke—you were just fishing, curious of how often he thought about you in such a way, “it could have just been a lapse in judgement, so let me hear it,” you lean into his space, tilting your head to meet his as he turns away, “what are you thinking about?”

There’s a subtle glance at your face that leads to your chest and Jesse, if you would let him, would have you spread out over his lap without a moment of hesitation—but there is hesitation.

“Jesse,” you tease, singsong in the way you say his name.

And then he moves.

It’s fast—so fast that you barely register it until his hand is gripping your wrists and pulling you toward him. The movement is fierce, raw, acting purely on feeling, without thinking.

His grip on your wrist is firm, possessive, as he leans in close, pulling you to him as you settle in his lap without needing to be directed, his lips so close that you can feel them even before they touch you, breathing hot against your mouth.

The moment he gives in, it isn’t gentle or kind. It’s a collision of everything that’s been building between you two, all the unspoken emotions, the buried desires that neither of you have acknowledged until now, laying dormant.

His kiss is hungry, demanding, and when you try to pull back, his other hand comes up to cup the back of your head, keeping you there, gasping softly into his mouth. Your entire world spins at a dizzying speed as you exhale a breathless laugh of disbelief into the kiss.

When you finally pull away, it’s only enough to catch your breath, face close enough for your nose to bump against his cheek, the closeness almost sending you reeling again. 

He’s still holding your wrists, this time with one hand as the other squeezed tenderly at the back of your head, yearning to pull you in close again, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go.

He’s ready to mutter an apology or excuse, but you don’t let him.

You move quickly, shifting slightly as you lean back, tugging at his wrists, guiding his hands down your chest and over your stomach, under the fabric of your shirt until his hands make contact with bare skin.

Jesse swears he’s going to die from the simplicity of it all—again, how easy things felt with you—the soft skin there, the way you settle back into his legs, the curve of your ass grazing his lap, aware of how hard his cock was against you.

You smirk at the way his gaze heats with his explorative touches, it was clear that he only needed the push and reassurance, his lips parting to release a long sigh.

“Say it,” you urge him, knowing exactly what he looked like when he was keeping something to himself, itching to speak his mind.

Jesse groans, a low, needy sound that makes your stomach flip, “Shit,” he says, “you’re gonna tease me for sayin’ it, I just know—”

“No, no,” you assure him, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips that quickly heats, shoving his beanie aside as you toss it to the floor, running your fingers into his hair, “I won’t.”

“I’m thinkin’,” He begins, chasing your lips as you pull away, “about how bad I want to fuck you right now—jus’ right here, it might fuckin’ kill me.”

You grin, satisfied with his answer and the hoarse, raw way he delivers it, “Then maybe you should,” you breathe, “ya know, fuck me.”

Jesse pulls you in further, his hands sliding over your hips and up the center of your back, between your shoulder blades as he lifts your top over your head, giggling at how quickly his face presses between your breasts, mouthing gently at the swell of skin, so soft and supple.

Within his distraction, you reach for your bag, unzipping the small pocket in the front to reach for the small roll of foil squares you kept squared away—it was a long story, actually.

Jesse doesn’t let it slide either, hearing the sound and pausing immediately as he looks over his shoulder. His face a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Oh, don’t fucking look at me like that,” you go on the defense immediately with a playful smile, “I know you have some in your bag, too.”

Jesse knew briefly of a small stint you had with one of the men who filtered through patrol and watchtower patrol through the seasons, having found you in an awkward situation or two that didn’t give away much, always finding you after.

Either way, you were both guilty.

Jesse opens his mouth to speak, but you slap your hand to muffle any noise.

“Stop talking,” you order as he peels your bra off without trouble, swatting your hand away as his mouth latches immediately to your chest, tongue slick against your nipple, “and oh—fuck me—”

He can’t tell whether it was a demand or a pleading moment of desperation, it didn't really matter.

You’re already pulling at his coat, fumbling with the zipper as he drags you closer into his lap, his mouth never lulling in the attention he’s giving you, his teeth dragging over the tender skin of your chest as he lets out a desperate groan when your hips rub impatiently down against him.

It’s urgent, now, how he moves, almost frantic as he paws at the button of his jeans, the rasp of his zipper loud above the sound of your sharp breaths and the crackle of fire—you work in tandem, standing to slip your jeans and underwear down your hip, both of you too caught up to let the moment breathe as you settle back over him, stripped naked and vulnerable despite his state of dress, but you’ve never felt more secure.

You watch with a quiet smile as he fumbles to rip the packet open with shaky, adrenaline fueled hands, slipping the latex over his hardened cock, gripping himself at the base as you rise higher on your knees and extend your palm out in front of your mouth and spit into it with a lingering eye contact that could undo Jesse on the spot, bringing your hand to your cunt to smear the saliva between your folds, aching for the stretch of him, underestimating the stretch until the head of his cock is pressed against you, both of you releasing a slow breath as his hand searches for your hip, squeezing gently as you sink down onto his length.

You still suddenly, adjusting to the way he fills you.

It’s overwhelming how quickly the two of you had gotten here.

Jesse grips your hips tightly, distracting your fleeting thoughts, lifting you off of him with a strong grip before dragging you back down with a low moan of his own when your nails dig into his shoulders through his shirt.

He holds you with a sudden possessiveness that leaves you crying out softly against his cheek, rocking his hips up to meet your rhythm as you bounce over him, his eyes barely leaving your face as he watches you fall apart on his cock, eyes wide and wondrous as earlier that day, the subtle twitches to your face when he brushes a spot so sensitive inside of you, gasping sharply.

The pace is desperate, both of you burning hot with the urgency of a handful of years building up like a house that finally caught fire, crumbling down to nothing but this moment, and the slide of him inside you is so slick, his body molding against your own, hands fitting perfectly against your body as he moans softly into the shared space between you, head lulling back against the wall as you follow, yearning for closeness.

"Jesus," he breathes, almost awed, the warmth of you wrapped around him, the tightness, the way you're taking the reins when he finds himself distracted, your hips dragging in slow, languid rolls over him. "jesus fuckin' christ, baby," 

The drag of his cock inside you is intense and fulfilling, your hands planted firmly against his chest, twitching into the fabric of his shirt to brace yourself as you ride him, his wandering and squeezing grasps to pull you impossibly closer indicative of how close he was.

“You like me fussing over you” you tell him breathlessly, fingers twisting into his hair to tilt it back, his eyes landing on you through a heavy, heated gaze as he huffs a laugh through his nose, “don’t you?”

He nods without a moment of hesitation.

“I take such good care of you, huh?”

You aren’t expecting the words to set him off, but they do.

You squeal at the quickness with which he moves, snatching your backpack with quick thinking as he lays you out on the cold ground, your gasp melting into a loud as he quickly, smoothly situations himself between your legs again and pushes inside of you, his hand curling around the back of your neck to tilt your chin up, jeans hanging low around his legs as he settles on his knees to create a mind-numbing angle as he thrusts into you.

“I feel it,” he whispers cockily, your cunt squeezing around him at his words, “you feel it?”

You nod dumbly as he continues to speak, “She loves me,” he tells you, “god—she’s squeezing me so tight,”

There’s something about it that breaks the line of reality, feeling as if this was all some dream, that there was no way Jesse knew your body this well, like it hadn’t been craving him from the start.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” Jesse orders, though it was more pleading, ultimately followed by the simple word, “please—fuck, please—”

He’s locked on the quick work of your hands, legs spread around and locked behind his back, his cock sinking inside of your greedy cunt with needy thrusts, chasing a high that he didn’t want to end.

When it did, it was slow.

You come apart with a cry, his mouth hot against your neck as he groaned into you, your cunt squeezing him like a vice as your body worked through the aching pulses of pleasure and it was few more long, sharp thrusts before he followed, fingers digging harshly into the skin of your thigh as he slowed himself to a gentle rock of his hips as he spilled into the condom.

When the high settles, you can’t help but laugh, feeling his head slump against your chest as he echoes your elation, “I think we fucked through your patrol slot,” he says through a heavy sigh, pulling out of you with a slight wince.

You grab at his wrist, glancing at his watch.

Sure enough.

“Oh no, we’re going to be devoured by clickers,” you say jokingly, a grin spreading across your face, pausing for a moment to shrug, “worth it.”

Jesse helps you redress with an unspoken protectiveness when you’ve both let the moment settle and pass, painfully reminiscent of the way you’ve cared for him before under entirely different circumstances, realizing how easily it was for your mind to wander like Jesse’s had.

“Tommy’s so gonna know,” Jesse speaks after a while, “Dude’s a fuckin’ knower.”

“No,” you snort softly, “you’re just a terrible liar. Just keep shit simple.”

“Dina was right,” he says quietly, reaching for the rifle leaning against the wall to take watch for his turn, “We were both never fully invested with what we had, she never really said why, but—”

“It isn’t something we have to dive into right now, Jesse,” you assure him, “or, ever.”

You bend down to grab Jesse’s beanie before handing it over.

“We’re still friends, that doesn’t have to change,”

Unfortunately, for Jesse, he knew that wasn’t possible.

He’d been missing something for a while, he just hadn’t realized it was something that had been with him the entire time.

You.

[just-nc-tea]

nine and three quarters pt. 3 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⭑.ᐟ Roommate to Lovers - Park Sunghoon Somehow, in the middle of your semester break, you ended up with a new roommate. Your landlord rented out the second room in your flat without telling you, and now you’re living with Sunghoon. At first, your paths barely cross – you’re buried in work, and he’s always at the rink. But slowly, he slips into your routine in ways you never expected. Then one night, everything shifts. A blurred memory, a moment of fear—and Sunghoon catching you before you can fall. Suddenly, it’s not awkward anymore. You start looking forward to him coming home. Maybe—just maybe—home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person.

ᝰ genre. Figure skater!Sunghoon, college sports, angst, hurt/comfort, SO MUCH FLUFF!!! FINALLY!!! ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of alcohol, hospital visits, mentions of rape, mentions of date-rape-drugs, mentions of the police, panic attacks, eating disorder, psychologists .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ features. Mark, Johnny, Taeyong & Jungwoo from NCT, Woonyoung and Rei from IVE ᝰ word count. 25.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ --⟢ PART 1 --⟢ PART 2

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Flowers.  There were flowers. You bought flowers. That was the first thing Sunghoon noticed when he came home after class a few days after the break ended. He dropped his bag onto one of the chairs in the kitchen and took two big steps towards the window. A small bouquet of purple flowers was standing in the vase he bought you at the market. The scent of the flowers was sweet and hardy, filling the kitchen.

The next thing he noticed was how full the kitchen was. The basket you used for fruit, which was standing on the kitchen table, was usually empty since fresh produce is quite expensive, but today it was filled to the brim with apples, bananas, mangos, and tangerines. The fridge was full of vegetables and two cartons of eggs.  He blinked into the fridge. This was a lot of food. You were barely able to eat a plate of eggs and cucumber, so why did you buy so much? How did you carry all of this upstairs? The elevator was still broken, and he had noticed that just walking up the 4 flights of stairs without a bag was already hard for you, so how did you…

“Sunghoon!” A warm palm clapped gently against his back, and Sunghoon turned with a quiet jolt. Mark was standing in front of him with a big grin adorning his face. “Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, a little breathless. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Mark shrugged with a smile, sitting down on a kitchen chair. “Y/N asked me to go to the market with her and I didn’t want her to carry all of the stuff alone, so I just came along.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing again at the overflowing fruit basket and the fridge. “This is a lot of food.” Mark laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I kinda went overboard. She let me pick up too much stuff. She said you two eat together sometimes, so I figured—why not get enough for both of you? Johnny and Taeyong gave her money for groceries anyway. I just made her spend it.”

Sunghoon gave a soft huff of laughter, eyes still on the fridge. “It’s just… a lot. She usually doesn’t—” “I know,” Mark cut in, voice softer now.  Sunghoon turned to look at him, but Mark’s gaze was fixed on the fruit basket. “She’s trying,” Mark said quietly. “But it helps when someone’s eating with her. Even if it’s just rice and cucumber. Even if she can’t finish everything. Just... not doing it alone makes it easier. So I thought maybe if we bought enough for the two of you, you could start cooking and eating together? I know you aren't really that close with Y/N, or well, I don't really know, Y/n and I haven't exactly been talking a lot, she was kinda avoiding us all. But I was hoping you could maybe just…help a bit.” Sunghoon swallowed thickly. He didn’t know you were avoiding your brother. He was wondering why Mark was never over. When he first met Mark, it seemed like you two spent a lot of time together. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to help.” “You are.” Mark looked up and met his eyes, serious for a moment. “She told you what’s happening. That’s big.” Sunghoon nodded. “I’ll cook with her.”

Mark smiled again, this time smaller. “That always worked when we were teens. Even if I was eating three servings of curry, and she was barely finishing her salad. It was still better.” Footsteps echoed down the hallway and both of them looked up just as you stepped into the kitchen, towel still around your neck and damp hair brushing your collarbone. You were wearing one of Sunghoon’s shirts. He said nothing and tried to not react outwardly, but something fluttered low in his chest. Sometimes, when you had all the shirts you used as pyjamas in the wash, you took one of Sunghoon’s. He had so many shirts from training camps or competitions that were in his pyjama drawer that he didn’t really care if you stole one once in a while.  “Hey,” you said, blinking at the two of them. “You didn’t put the mangoes in the fridge?” “You didn’t say where you wanted them,” Mark shot back easily. “Cold mangoes are elite, and you know it.” You moved toward the fruit basket, pushing your towel back from your shoulders. Sunghoon moved a step to the side to let you open the fridge door.  As you opened the door, Mark’s eyes landed on the meal calendar you’d stuck on the fridge. His expression twisted into a grin.

“Are those the monkey stickers from Taeyong?” You froze. “Mark—” “Oh my god, you’re actually using them.” “They’re cute!” you defended, cheeks a little pink as you grabbed the sheet and stuck it to the fridge underneath Sunghoon’s new magnet from the aquarium in Busan. He was quite touched that you thought of him while you were at home. He imagined being home, visiting doctors, even if they were people you knew, wasn’t the most pleasant thing to do, and when you did something nice, you thought of him. He felt all giddy thinking about it. Mark laughed and threw his hands up. “You know what? You’re right. They are better than the strange dinosaurs Hyuck bought you. I am still haunted by the T Rex that had the head of another dinosaur in its mouth. You really didn’t have to use them.” “But Donghyuck Oppa bought them for me. And I didn’t want to be ungrateful.”, you huffed and leaned onto the counter next to Sunghoon. Your arms were touching, and it sent a warm sensation up his arm.  Then Sunghoon’s stomach grumbled. Loudly.

The sound broke through the room like a slapstick sound effect, and you both froze. Then slowly, so slowly,you turned to look at him. His ears turned pink immediately. “…I guess I’m hungry,” he admitted, voice sheepish. You blinked at him, something gentle dancing behind your eyes. Then, very softly you asked: “Do you want to eat?” There was a pause. Not a long one. Just long enough for him to meet your eyes and realize you weren’t just asking him if he was hungry. You were asking if he wanted to eat with you. Sunghoon swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Spaghetti?” Mark, silently watching from the other side of the kitchen, perked up. “You two want me to chop something?”

You nodded without looking away from Sunghoon. “Only if you’re okay staying a little longer.” Mark grinned. “I’m not moving unless you kick me out.” Sunghoon smiled too, just a little. “We could use the veggies for the sauce. One of my friend’s girlfriends makes a protein bolognese for Jake all the time. Like, shredded carrots and lentils with beef.” “I’ll get the cutting board.” You moved to the cabinet and started pulling out the dry pasta. Sunghoon turned on the stove, filled a pot with water, and placed it on the burner. “Hey, could I turn on some music?” Mark asked after he washed a bell pepper. “Sure.”, you hummed beside Sunghoon, who was busy cutting the beef he still had in the fridge. You looked up at Sunghoon. “Can we use your speaker?” you asked softly. “Yeah,” Sunghoon said, a little distracted as he trimmed the fat from the beef. “It’s on my desk.”

He blinked a second later, realizing what he’d just said. Wait. His room. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. Mark, hearing him, raised a brow but didn’t comment. Sunghoon had just started mentally cataloging the chaos in his room when you returned, speaker in hand, looking completely unbothered. You handed it to Mark. He blinked. “Did you… find it okay?” “Yeah. It was right where you said.” You nodded and just turned back to the stove and stirred the sauce.

Mark hooked up his phone, and music started playing—something upbeat and chill, some indie R&B track.

Sunghoon stared at you for a second longer. The soft sway of your hair, the way your head bobbed gently to the beat while you stirred. You looked calm and so soft. A strand of your hair was falling forward, and he had the impulse to tuck it behind your ear. Somehow, he really had a thing for your hair. Whenever you were watching TV together, he somehow had a strand of hair between his fingers.  He blinked and quickly looked away before either of you could catch him smiling.

────────────────────── Mark left after dinner and took the music with him.  You stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up, drying a plate while Sunghoon rinsed the next one. He passed it to you without a word, hands brushing for the briefest second.  “Thanks for cooking,” you said softly, folding the towel around the plate. “That was really good.” He gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for helping. You ate a full portion.” Your eyes flicked up to his, surprised for a moment. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I did.” And then, with a little breath of something like pride, you turned and padded to the fridge.

Sunghoon watched as you peeled another monkey sticker from the sheet tucked into the side of the calendar and pressed it beside today’s date. It joined two others already in a row, little grinning faces in cartoon yellow. He couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. His chest went warm, gentle, and a little achy. You glanced over your shoulder. “It’s kind of dumb, I know.” “It’s not,” he said quickly. You turned fully, arms crossed lightly over your front. The corners of your mouth twitched. “It’s a little dumb.” “It’s cute,” he corrected, flicking a bit of water off his fingers in your direction.  You huffed a quiet laugh, your gaze dropping for a second. 

Sunghoon picked up the last pan and scrubbed at it slowly, the tension in the room softening. The silence between you felt different now. Not awkward. He couldn’t really name the feeling, but he started to really like feeling like this. Comfortable.  You leaned next to him a few minutes later, hip brushing his. A little closer than you would’ve stood a few weeks ago. He liked that. “You want tea?” you asked. He turned to you. “Only if we drink it on the sofa and watch people get dramatic over nothing again.” You grinned. “It’s not nothing. Their friend literally faked a pregnancy and then ghosted the guy.” “Yeah, but like. He kind of deserved it.” You snorted and went to fill the kettle. Sunghoon turned back to the sink and finished the dishes. He didn’t say it yet. Not out loud. But he was proud of you. So proud he felt like his chest couldn’t quite contain it.

────────────────────── The sound of blades scraping against the ice echoed sharply and hollowly through the near-empty rink. Sunghoon skated to the barrier and braced his hands on it, chest heaving. His reflection in the plexiglass was sweaty, flushed and scowling. He squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t landed a clean jump all morning. Two weeks ago, he’d flown. His legs had been light, movements clean, choreography crisp.  Today he couldn’t even get through the first half of the routine. He slipped on a stupid step sequence and landed hard enough that his shoulder still ached. He pushed away from the barrier, gliding back to the center of the rink. His Coach wasn’t watching right now. He was yelling at one of the juniors on the other side. Sunghoon exhaled. Focus. The music started again, low and distant through the speakers. He took off, arms slicing through the air, each push of his skate a little too forceful. Too much. He turned into the first jump. And hit the ice again, hard. Flat on his side. “Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, clutching his elbow as the cold bled through his clothes. He stayed down for a second too long, his breath fogging up in front of his face. “What the hell is wrong with me,” he muttered, sitting up slowly. He could see a smear on the ice where he landed. His heart felt like it was rattling in his ribs. Anger, embarrassment, frustration. He pulled off his gloves, hands shaking slightly, and ran them over his face. The cold stung his skin. His eyes burned too. He climbed to his feet, teeth clenched. He didn’t know why he thought today would be better. ────────────────────── The figure skaters had cleared out half an hour ago. He could hear the ice hockey players in the rink's changing room. They would be out here in a few minutes. But Sunghoon didn’t move. He was sprawled on the ice, limbs spread in all directions, his chest rising and falling quickly. His program music played on repeat, louder now that the other skaters were gone. He barely twitched when a sharp hiss of skates sounded beside him, followed by a spray of snow that landed all over his glove. “Dude,” Heeseung’s voice rang out over him. “What happened to you?” Sunghoon blinked up at the ceiling. “I won’t pass the tryouts.” Heeseung stared down at him. “That’s funny,” he said flatly. “Because you said the exact same thing before Nationals and you second.” Sunghoon’s laugh was more of a groan. “Yeah, and I still don’t know how I pulled that off.” Heeseung crouched beside him on the ice, propped on the butt of his stick, brows raised. “Are you falling again or just giving up entirely?”

Sunghoon didn’t move. Just sighed and stared at the rafters overhead. “I’m not giving up. I just can’t land anything today. It’s like my body forgot what edges are.” Heeseung let out a low whistle. “I didn't know you're that dramatic.” “I’m serious,” Sunghoon muttered. “Tryouts are in two weeks, and I can’t even make it through one clean run. I barely made it through the warm-up jumps today. What if I already peaked?” “You said the same thing before Nationals.” “Yeah, and maybe I did peak there. Maybe that was it. My fluke moment.” Heeseung rolled his eyes. “You always say that. Then you pull a quad out of nowhere and land it like it’s nothing. Maybe you're just stressed. I mean the Olympic team is crazy. I would be stressed.” Sunghoon finally sat up, resting his arms on his knees. His gloves were wet from the ice, fingertips numb. “I am stressed, but I was stressed before the nationals too,” he said, quieter. “But it was different. I was worried about Y/N. And now she’s doing better. She’s eating. There’s a monkey sticker on that stupid meal calendar every single day. Sometimes even two. So I shouldn’t feel like this anymore.” Heeseung studied him for a second. “But you still do?” Sunghoon looked away. “I guess. It’s not her. She’s fine. I’m just… off.” Heeseung didn’t say anything for a beat. Then, softly, “You sure it’s not still her?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. “I’m not—no. I can’t—she’s my roommate, Heeseung.” Heeseung shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you don’t care. You’re just not used to caring this much about someone off the ice.” “I care about you,” Sunghoon shot back defensively “Yeah,” Heeseung deadpanned, “but you don’t glue monkey stickers to a fridge for me.” Sunghoon’s ears went pink. “I’m just saying,” Heeseung went on, “You’re still you, Hoon. Just… someone else has your whole focus now. Someone who glues Monkey stickers to calendars.” Sunghoon didn’t answer. Not because he disagreed. But because he didn’t know how to say that the idea scared him just as much as it warmed him. He picked at the edge of his skate and stood. “Tryouts are in two weeks.” “And if you play your cards right, monkey stickers are forever,” Heeseung grinned, skating backward. “Shut up.”

──────────────────────

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon finally stepped inside.

He dropped his bag quietly by the door, the soft clink of his keys the only sound in the quiet. He slipped off his shoes and let the door close behind him with a soft thud. It was close to midnight. You were asleep. Probably. Sunghoon padded into the kitchen on socked feet. He felt a little sore from the extra reps and the weight session in the gym. He'd showered at the rink, taken a half-hour nap on the office couch while Heeseung’s girlfriend typed away at her computer. Sunghoon really liked her. Heeseung and her have been dating for almost a year now. When he first met her, she was sitting in a wheelchair. Heeseung told him that she had gone through several surgeries after a car crash when she was younger.  The crash cut her career short.  He often had to think about that. How sometimes he wished he had a reason to just stop skating and get a normal job, have normal hobbies, but he also saw the way Heeseung’s girlfriend looked at the ice, with so much longing, it made his heart heavy.  The kitchen was cool, the scent of whatever you ate for dinner was still faint in the air. The sink held one plate and a fork, rinsed off neatly. His eyes went to the fridge without thinking. To today’s date.  A shiny monkey sticker was pressed next to it. Not one, but two. He smiled slightly. You must’ve had a good day. Sunghoon walked over and pressed the tip of his finger to the little monkey face. The sticker crinkled slightly under his touch. There was a note, too. Scrawled quickly, in your handwriting, on a Post-it note just under the sticker. "Spaghetti with mushrooms and carrots, and that protein powder. Bon appétit!" He huffed a quiet laugh, even as something tugged tight in his chest. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently over the corner of the sticky note. Sunghoon heated the rest of the pasta you'd portioned out for him, plating it carefully despite the hour. He sat down at the kitchen table with it, elbows on the wood, bare feet tucked up under the chair. A part of him wanted to go peek into your room just to see you. But he didn’t. He sat in the kitchen eating his dinner, letting his heart slow, his breath even out, his shoulders finally drop.

────────────────────── You were in a good mood when you left the house. The sun had been out when you stepped onto the pavement. You’d remembered to bring your water bottle and the playlist you’d put on during the bus ride was perfect for the mood outside. Even your coffee hadn’t tasted like dirt. You slipped into your lecture seat and pulled out your sketchbook. You’d started your last assignment over, more organized this time, cleaner. It felt nice to look at your own work and not instantly hate it. And for once, you weren’t behind. Not truly. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Sunghoon: Y/N do you want new stickers?  Daiso has cute ones rn Im gonna bu them even if yo say no buy* you* sorry i was rushing a bit. 

You smiled. Today made it twelve days in a row. You’ve used almost all of the monkeys. And honestly? You were kind of proud of that. The stickers made it feel like you did something, even on the days you were just eating plain rice and steamed broccoli. You were up to almost 1000 kcal a day now, pushing toward 1100 kcal. Taeyong had sent you new stickers in the mail, cats, and you’d shown them to Sunghoon like they were the best thing he had ever seen. He looked so happy. His face had lit up in this quiet, surprised way. You weren’t even sure if he knew how tired he looked lately. He’d been home late almost every night this week, his shoulders tense and a frown was living permanently between his brows. But when you pulled out the little cat sheet and told him you wanted to try eating just a bit more each day, he smiled so wide.  That thought carried you halfway through class. Until the professor flipped the slide and reminded everyone, “Final sketches are due on Tuesday. Don’t forget we moved the deadline up.” Tuesday? That was four days from now.  You stared at the slide for a second longer than necessary. Then you flipped back through your notes. You started the sketches. You had a clear idea, the concept was solid, and if you pulled a long night today and a longer one Saturday, you could do it. You didn’t have to work this weekend, and you’d already done your weekly session with Ten, which meant the next few days were yours. You could absolutely do this. Lately, things have been different.  You were different.  Bit by bit, like someone had found the dimmer switch on your brain and slowly started turning it back up. You hadn’t even realized how much the party had stuck with you. It wasn’t just the throwing up. It was the way your chest clenched when someone offered you food or drinks. The way you hated opening your inbox. The way you could cry over a spilled coffee, or absolutely nothing at all.

Ten had helped you with that.

You weren’t fixed after the first few sessions.  You were still tired. Still got this dull ache behind your eyes or your ribs some mornings. Still, sometimes whispered a quiet sorry to the mirror when your shirt hung too loose. But you were getting there. You were okay. And if you weren’t okay yet, you would be. You caught Renjun’s question a few beats late. “How’s your draft going?” You gave him a half-smile. “Good. I’m almost done.” Which wasn’t a lie. You would finish it. You knew you could. Because you’d done harder things already. You had done this in the first semester so often, this should be easy.

────────────────────── You were adjusting your grip on three oversized rolls of paper, trying not to let them knock into your knees, when you saw Sunghoon. Headphones on, walking with his shoulders slightly hunched. You brightened instinctively, smiling at him, but your smile dipped, just slightly, when he got close enough for you to see the set of his jaw. He looked… tired. And tense. Maybe even upset. You shifted your weight, hugging the paper tubes a little closer, and offered a quiet, “Hi.” His gaze flicked up. And like magic, it all softened. The furrow between his brows, the stiff set of his shoulders. He gave a small exhale, like just seeing you let out some of the tension. “Hey,” he said, low and tired, but warm. “What’s with all the… paper?” You let out a laugh. “I stayed in the studio after class. I’m doing a huge concept draft this weekend. Guess who’s pulling an all-nighter?” He eyed your supplies, then you. “Please don’t say you.” You bit your lip. “It’s due Tuesday, and I was kinda distracted during the break. But I think I can make it work. I have a plan.” He reached out and gently tugged one of the rolls from under your arm without a word. You didn’t stop him. Your fingers brushed his in the exchange, and your pulse jumped. The bus rolled up, brakes squealing slightly, and the two of you climbed on. You found a mostly empty seat toward the back and sank into it with a small sigh. The paper was bulky, and created a barrier between your legs and his. Still, your shoulders brushed. He didn’t move away. The ride started in silence. You were about to reach for your phone when Sunghoon spoke, voice quieter than usual. “I’m not skating well,” he said. You looked up, surprised at the sudden honesty. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know what happened. Two weeks ago, everything worked perfectly. I almost got a perfect score. And now it’s like my body forgot how to do everything. Every run-through ends with me on the ice. It’s��� embarrassing.” You frowned, brows drawing together. “You think it was just luck that day?”

He gave a soft laugh, more bitter than amused. “Maybe. I don't know. I was really stressed in the weeks leading up to it. You know, with the party and everything. I was kinda busy worrying about you and didn't really worry about the nationals that much."

You didn’t answer right away. The bus rumbled around you. A neon sign from a passing corner shop spilled red light across the floor.

Your hands were resting in your lap. You stared at your fingers for a second.

You hadn’t hidden it. Not really. The skipped dinners, your barely touched plates. You knew you weren’t subtle.

You just didn’t know it had sat with him like that. 

“I’m not saying that to guilt you.” He leaned his head back against the bus window, sighing. “You’re doing amazing. You've put those monkey stickers on the calendar every day for almost two weeks. Sometimes even two.”

You ducked your head, shy under the praise. “They’re cute. And I like making people proud.”

“You are,” he said softly. “I am.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you just nodded.

“Two weeks ago,” you said quietly. “At the nationals. You were incredible. You had so much fun.”

Sunghoon turned to look at you then. His eyes were soft. Tired.

And maybe a little surprised.

“I don’t know how I did that,” he admitted. “And now I’m not sure I can do it again.”

You hesitated. Then, a little nervously:

“Do you… still worry? About me?”

There was no pause in his answer.

“Yeah.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure how to carry the strange warmth that bloomed under your skin. 

You wanted to reach out and touch his hand. Or maybe say thank you. Or maybe… both.

A few moments passed in silence before you felt his head tilt, his chin gently resting on the top of your head.

You froze for a heartbeat.

Then slowly, shyly, you let yourself lean into his side.

Just a little.

The bus bumped along, and the rolls of paper rolled slightly against your knees.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured. “Eventually.”

“You will,” you whispered back. “But you don’t have to be right away.”

His hand brushed against yours for a second.

And neither of you moved away.

────────────────────── Your keys clinked softly as you unlocked the apartment door. The hallway light flickered to life, casting a warm, golden hue across the wooden floor. You slipped off your shoes, turning to look at Sunghoon, who was still moving slower than usual, dropping his bag by the door with a sigh.

You hesitated.

“…Are you hungry?” you asked gently.

He looked up at you with that unreadable expression of his. Not annoyed. Just...thinking.

Then he tilted his head. “Did you eat enough for a monkey?”

You blinked, caught off guard and then let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “No.”

He didn’t scold you, “Then… unspicy dakgalbi? From the place I always drag the guys to?”

Your eyes lit up immediately. “Oh? The one we ordered from a few weeks ago?”

He nodded. “They do extra cheese now.”

Your stomach actually rumbled a little at that.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both perched on either side of the low sofa table. You sat cross-legged at the low table, sketchbook to your right.

Sunghoon was on the other side of the table, sleeves pushed up, his hair still damp from his shower. He passed you the tongs wordlessly, letting you serve yourself first. The cheese pulled in stretchy, stringy lines between the chicken pieces.

You quietly divided things up. One bowl for you. One for him.

When you finished cleaning the living room, you placed a sticker onto the calendar and held it up toward him with a tiny smile. You’d already picked out the sticker for tonight, a little orange cat holding a rice ball. 

“Tada!”

He squinted at the calendar and took a step closer, “The cat is cute. I am proud of you, Y/N. Look, even your little kitty is proud of you for eating so well.”

You laughed, cheeks a little warm.

The two of you returned to the living room. You had your legs tucked underneath you on the floor, one of the giant papers resting across the coffee table. The living room was dim except for the glow of the TV. The new drama you both half-followed played in the background. You had your pencil in one hand, your sleeve bunched in the other as you leaned over the page.

You didn’t even realize how quiet it had gotten until you looked up and found Sunghoon stretched out on the couch. One arm tucked under his head, hoodie soft and rumpled. His other hand rested over his stomach, rising and falling with each breath.

He wasn’t watching the drama. He was watching you.

You immediately felt the heat rise in your face.

“What?” you asked, trying not to smile.

He looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He didn’t argue.

You shook your head and looked back at your sketch. But your heart was still doing something weird. Something soft and fast at the same time.

You didn’t say anything else. Neither did he.

You weren’t sure when Sunghoon stopped watching the drama and started watching you again but you noticed when his eyes started slipping shut, his head slowly lolling to the side against the arm of the couch.

He insisted on keeping you company while you worked. 

Which, apparently, meant curling up on the couch behind you, one arm flung over a pillow like a makeshift hug, and promptly dozing off halfway through episode two.

Your pencil slipped from your hand somewhere around 3:30 a.m..Your first sketch was about 3/4 done, but your eyes were getting too heavy to shade anything right now. You stretched your legs out slowly, bones creaking, spine stiff from being hunched over the coffee table for hours and looked over your shoulder.

Sunghoon was still out cold. His hoodie had ridden up just slightly, revealing a sliver of his lower back. His mouth was parted in the tiniest way. 

You tried not to laugh as you reached over and touched his shoulder gently.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered.

He groaned.

“Sunghoon,” you said again, a little softer.

His eyes cracked open, all bleary and confused. “Huh.”

“You fell asleep.”

He made a tiny noise of protest and flopped further into the couch. “You’re loud.”

You laughed. “C’mon. Go to bed.”

He mumbled something unintelligible, then blinked blearily at you. “You wanna sleep in my room tonight?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You said… before.” He rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand. “That you sleep better when someone’s there.”

You stared at him for a second. Something in your chest tugged, a quiet, strange warmth.

“I did say that,” you murmured. “Do you?”

He stilled. For a breath. Then said quietly, “Yeah.”

You nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The apartment was cold outside the blanket nest you’d built on the couch and on the floor, but his room was warm, dim with only the soft glow of his lamp in the corner. You slipped into his bed first, still in your hoodie and sweats, pulling the covers up as he turned off the hallway light and climbed in beside you.

You didn’t even think about where to lie. You just curled toward the same place you always seemed to find: his side, just beneath his collarbone, right over his heartbeat.

His arm came around you automatically.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then he whispered into your hair, voice rough with sleep, “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

You let out a breath. “Me too.”

Another beat.

“…Also. I’m never letting you work until 3:30 again.”

You smiled into his hoodie. “I don’t really think that’s possible.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer, already asleep again. 

His breath, steady and warm, brushed over the crown of your head every few seconds in a lazy rise and fall.

After a few minutes you noticed a sound. 

Soft. Rhythmic. Not loud, but steady enough to be unmistakable.

Sunghoon was snoring.

Just lightly.

You didn’t move. Didn’t dare to.

And then – there it was again.

The faintest little snore. You stifled a smile into his hoodie.

You shifted a tiny bit, just enough to glance up at him.

His mouth was parted slightly, lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. He looked so different asleep. Softer. Younger, somehow.

You reached up slowly, brushed his hair off his forehead. He didn’t stir.

And then, quietly, you whispered, “Thank you.”

For the food. For the stickers. For staying up with you. For holding you like this.

The snore came again. You almost laughed.

────────────────────── At around 15 o’clock, they called his name for warm-ups, and he felt like walking toward a storm he couldn’t stop. He spent almost 5 hours in the rink at this point, watching other people skate and perform on a level that was Olympic.

Sunghoon knew.

The moment his skates hit the ice, he knew.

This wasn’t going to work.

His legs were already too tight. His lungs didn’t feel like they had room.

He ran through the motions anyway.

Went through the warm-up. 

But with every movement, he felt it tightening. His chest, his hands, the panic he’d been choking down for days.

When they called him out for his actual performance, he wasn’t even nervous anymore. Just…numb.

The music started. He pushed off.

And he fell.

Not dramatically. Just a slip, a wrong edge on a spin he could do blindfolded most days. His shoulder kissed the ice, and the sting of it went all the way to his ribs.

He got up.

He always got up.

But the rest of the routine blurred. He didn’t even know what he was doing by the end, only that he’d finished.

Bowed.

Skated off.

Not once did he look toward the seats.

Not once did he meet the eyes of his coach or the team watching from the tunnel.

He ripped off his gloves the moment the door to the rink closed behind him. Tugged at the zipper of his costume like it was suffocating him. Stormed past the lockers, past the benches, up into the viewer area.

You were sitting on a seat near the middle of the bleachers, your laptop balanced on your thighs, fingers curled gently around the stylus as you focused on the screen. Your hair was braided now.

Something about it made his throat go tight.

And then you looked up.

You didn’t ask if he was okay. You didn’t say anything right away. You just stood up and stepped in his direction.

Sunghoon didn’t even stop to think. His arms wrapped around you before any thought even formed. Tight and desperate.

He felt the first sting of tears when your hand touched the back of his neck. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair.

“I messed up,” he choked out. His throat felt like it was closing. “I knew I would. The second I stepped out. I just—”

“You looked beautiful,” you whispered, voice soft by his ear. “I’m proud of you for trying.”

His chest lurched.

“For going out there. Even if you knew.”

That broke a little sob out of him, and he buried his face in your hair.

You didn’t say ‘You never know what the judges think’ or ‘You weren’t that bad’.

You just held him.

“Thanks,” he whispered, lips brushing your hairline.

He stood there with you for a while, forehead resting against your shoulder, your hand moving slowly over the back of his costume–up, then down, and up again. 

Eventually, he stepped back. Not far. Just enough to breathe.

“Do you wanna leave?” you asked gently.

He nodded, jaw clenched. His mouth was too dry to speak.

You packed up without another word, slipping your laptop into your tote and looping your jacket over your arm. You didn’t ask if he wanted to drive. You just walked beside him back to the car, shoulders almost brushing, quiet like you understood there wasn’t anything to say.

The drive started in silence.

He didn’t turn on the radio.

You didn’t try to fill the space.

But a little ways down the highway, you cracked the window open and let the breeze in. And then you kicked off your shoes and curled your feet up on the seat, twisting to face him slightly.

“Do you want a candy? I still have to eat some to earn a kitty. I have watermelon, apple, that weird Chinese one with the rabbit from Renjun or strawberry?” you asked.

He glanced at you, brows tugged together.

You were holding out a box filled with different-sized and colored candies.

He blinked. “Weird Chinese rabbit ones? That’s… weirdly specific.”

You gave him a small shrug. “It’s sweet. I figured you might need something nice.”

He took a piece.

It helped a little. Especially when he saw that you ate three pieces. 

After a while, you shifted again.

Your voice was quieter now. “I wish I could do something. I know I can’t fix it, but…”

“You being there helped,” he said, staring at the road ahead. “A lot.”

You were quiet for a beat.

“You know, if you don’t want to be alone tonight… you could crash in my room.”

He turned his head slightly, trying to read your expression. You looked a little shy, like you weren’t sure if you were overstepping.

“It’s just… it feels better with someone there,” you added. “You said that too, right?”

His chest tightened, but not in a bad way this time.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

You nodded. Then leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes.

He didn’t know if you were actually sleeping, but he let you rest anyway. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t say anything else.

────────────────────── Sunghoon heard the faint clatter of a pan as he stepped out of the shower, towel still clutched around his hair. He padded down the hallway barefoot, his limbs heavy from the day, and found you in the kitchen, barefoot too, stirring something in a pan.

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard him. “I’m making egg rice,” you said, voice still soft. “There were leftovers. And I put in a ridiculous amount of oil, I am sorry.”

He nodded, throat tight again. “Smells good.” You plated up the food and passed him a bowl. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until the first bite. The table was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Your foot bumped his once, then again, and instead of pulling back, you let it rest lightly against his.  Afterward, he watched you shuffle to the fridge, humming faintly as you peeled the backing off another little sticker. This one was a cat with a sleepy face. You smoothed it onto the day’s square on your meal calendar and painted a pair of ice skates next to it. Sometimes, if something special happened, you drew a small doodle next to the date. He didn’t feel like today deserved a doodle.  Sunghoon swallowed.  You smiled faintly to yourself, then turned toward him. “I’ll brush my teeth first.”

By the time he joined you in your room, the lights were low and the sheets were already pulled back. You scooted over without a word, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

He laid down beside you, on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow.

For a while, you didn’t talk.

Then he spoke, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do now.”

You shifted slightly, not away but towards him.

He stared at the ceiling. “The Olympics... that was always the goal. Since I was a kid. Everything’s been about that. Every second I didn’t spend skating, I spent thinking about skating. And now…” His voice faltered. “Now I’m just—I don’t know who I am if I’m not trying to get there.”

He felt you look at him before you said anything.

“You know,” you said, soft and slow, “you’re still young. There are so many other things to achieve. This isn’t the end.”

He let the words settle between you, watching shadows play across the ceiling.

“There’ll be another Olympics,” you continued, “another try. And even if not… there’s always something else, right? Something new. I think–I think that’s the part no one tells you when you’re a kid. How your dreams can change.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. They always made it sound like it’s one dream, one shot. Do or die.”

“But it’s not,” you whispered. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He turned his head to look at you, even though the room was too dark to see your face clearly. “What did you want to be? When you were a kid?”

You were quiet for a second, like the question caught you off guard. Then you chuckled softly. “Van Gogh. I used to think I’d become the next Van Gogh and travel the world to paint.”

He smiled. “That’s adorable. But I think Picasso would be more fitting for you, Y/Ncasso.”

“Shut up.” You nudged his foot under the blanket. “What about you? Always skating?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Since I was like five. I saw Yuzuru Hanyu win gold and thought he was magic. I wanted to be that.”

You shifted closer slightly, and he felt your breath against his neck.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be magic,” you said. “Just… enough.”

Something about the way you said it tugged at him. He turned his body toward you now, propping his head up just a bit on his arm.

“You are,” he said.

You went quiet again. 

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked, voice soft, unsure if you wanted to keep on talking.

You were quiet for another beat, then you hummed. “Sometimes. Not often. It feels kind of… scary.”

He nodded slowly, even though you couldn’t see it.

“I always imagined mine very clearly,” he said. “Even when I was a kid. I’d make it big in skating, maybe get to coach later. Have a place near a the olympia park. A dog, or two. A supportive wife, who loves me. Whom i love back. And maybe… a daughter. I don’t know why, but I always pictured a daughter.”

He let out a small laugh, a little embarrassed by how much he was sharing. “Someone tiny who’d sit on my shoulders and call me her favorite person.”

Your silence stretched for a little too long. He turned his head.

When you did speak, your voice was quiet. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever have that.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened.

“Why?” he asked gently.

“I just… don’t think that’s in the cards for me. A family. Love like that.”

He wanted to say something immediately, but he waited. Let you say what you needed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you continued, not quite looking at him. “Not because I don’t want love,” you added quickly. “I do. I just… I think I’ll disappoint him."

His fingers curled slightly in the sheets.

“Sometimes I wonder,” you whispered, “if I’m just not enough.”

The words knocked the air out of him.

He sat up a little, his voice low but fierce. “Don’t say that.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“You are,” he said. “You’re more than enough.”

You looked away, eyes shining faintly in the darkness.

“I don’t want to be someone’s burden. When I relapse. When I can’t eat again or when I start hating myself again. I don’t want anyone to have to deal with that.”

Sunghoon felt the breath catch in his throat. His fingers flexed slightly against the sheets.

“Don’t say that,” he said, gently but firmly. “You’re not a burden.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But I could be.”

“No,” he said again. “You could have bad days. Weeks. That’s not the same thing.”

You didn’t answer.

Sunghoon pushed up a little more, his face now just inches from yours, even in the dark.

“If someone really loves you… he’ll stay. He’ll help you when things get hard. Especially when things get hard.”

He reached for your hand without thinking. 

“I don’t want to ruin someone’s life,” you whispered.

“You won’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “You’ll be part of it. And the right person will be lucky to have you in it.”

You let out a shaky breath, squeezing his fingers just once.

“You say that so easily.”

“I say it because it’s true.”

You didn’t speak after that. You just shifted closer, close enough that your foreheads nearly touched, close enough that he could feel the way your fingers curled slightly toward his.

He stayed awake for a while after that, listening to your breathing. Thinking about love. About disappointment. About the way you looked at him today like he hadn’t failed.

────────────────────── You saw the light pour through the tall windows of the studio, casting soft, slanted shadows across your desk. Someone’s model fell with a quiet clatter in the background. 

You saw your hands working, but your thoughts were still with Sunghoon.

It has been a few days since the tryouts. Sunghoon and you had been sleeping either in your or in his bed. Just to comfort each other. 

The step up in calories was hard. The bigger portions made your stomach upset, no matter what you ate and he was feeling a bit down. He didn’t go to the rink, instead coming home or to the studio, when you stayed longer. He and Renjun were getting along really well. 

You had to think about the softness in his voice when he talked about the future – about his daughter, his dogs, his house. The way he had said  he wanted a wife who he could love and who loved him like it was a given he would find someone like that. Like someone could love him so honestly, and he’d love them back just as deeply. You really believed that he would find such a girl. He deserved to be loved. Deeply. 

You remembered the way his fingers had curled around yours under the blanket.

You’re more than enough.

You saw the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he meant it.

You thought about how he stayed, even when it got bad.

You thought about how he asked if you’d eaten.

How he quietly cooked two portions when you hadn’t. How he let you talk when you needed to, and sat beside you when you couldn’t find the words.

Wasn’t that… what love was supposed to look like?

You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you ever would.

But if you ever let someone love you–really love you–you hoped Sunghoon was right. That they’d stay. That they’d hold on through the bad days. That you wouldn’t just become some slow-motion heartbreak in someone else's story.

Because right now… it almost felt like he was already doing it. Loving you in all the ways you didn’t know how to ask for, that you didn’t know how to give back.

And that thought made it hard to breathe in the best, scariest kind of way.

Your professor’s voice cut through the air.

“I hate to do this,” he said, and you already knew it was going to be bad, “but due to scheduling conflicts, the deadline for your final submissions has been moved up.”

You blinked.

“To next week.”

A collective groan spread across the room.. Someone cursed.

You looked around. Every table was covered in half-finished foam models, scattered tools, and messy sketches, yours included. No one was ready. Not really.

Your heart dropped, just a little.

You saw your own model–barely halfway there. The pieces didn’t fit right yet. Some parts still needed refining, carving, painting.

It wasn’t impossible. Not quite. You could stay all weekend. Pull a few all-nighters. If you mapped it out just right, you might be able to pull it off. You would have to bring your stuff back to your apartment, take over the kitchen for a few days. 

Your stomach sank anyway.

Because now you’d be tired. Because now dinner would be rushed. Because now the quiet bubble of comfort you’d made with Sunghoon would pop, even if just for a while.

You exhaled through your nose and refocused your attention. Grabbed your pencil. Sketched out the next adjustment.

You could still do this.

Sunghoon was making curry tonight.

You’d get your stupid kitty sticker and then draw a sad smiley next to it. 

────────────────────── Sunghoon saw you before he even heard the door shut.

You came in looking like a zombie. Bags digging into your shoulders, a roll of foam sticking out under one arm, your jacket halfway falling off, and your model clutched precariously in your hand. 

The look on your face said enough. 

He column’t remember seeing you like this, ever. He has seen many different facial expressions on you but he has never seen this one. Your mouth was tight and there was a crease in between your eyes. 

He stepped away from the stove. “Hey- wait, I’ll help- ”

“It’s okay,” you said, breathless, dropping your things by the shoe rack and then pressing a hand to your forehead. “My deadline’s been moved up. Again. A week earlier.”

He blinked. “Oh, shit.”

“Yup.” You weren’t even angry about it. Just exhausted. You gave him a fleeting smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll be out in a sec, just need to… change into not jeans. Or something.”

Then you disappeared into your room.

Sunghoon finished setting the table. Curry, rice, the salad you liked lately. Two bowls. Two glasses of water. The usual. He waited a few minutes. Then a few more.

You didn’t come out.

He stood up and made his way to your door, the polaroid of you with your name under it mirroring the one of him on his door. He knocked, gently. “Y/N? Food’s ready.”

You opened the door a minute later with the same drawn expression, hair tied up in a messy knot. You slid into your chair across from him and mumbled a quiet “thanks.”

But you didn’t eat.

Sunghoon watched you poke at the rice. Push the curry around. You were quiet so he started talking and told you about how Jay and Heeseung were invited to a gala for the new recruits of their teams and how they were panicking today. You barely reacted and only chuckled.

When he stood to clear the dishes, you looked up.

“Oh,” you murmured. “I’m so sorry- would you mind cleaning? I swear I’ll do it next week, I just-” You gestured vaguely toward your room, then vanished again before he could even nod.

Sunghoon blinked. “Okay…?”

He collected the bowls. Yours was still full.

His eyes flicked to the calendar. 

No sticker. 

You didn’t get out the sheet with the kitten and glued one onto it.

That was the first night in over two weeks there wasn’t one.

You didn’t eat. Not really. 

You also didn’t stop to get a snack from the fridge either. Usually you would eat a yogurt with berries after dinner. Not immediately after but you did prepare it immediately after. 

He washed up slowly, trying not to overthink it. But failed to do so. A part of him told himself you were tired. That it was just one night. But another part reminded him of the way your voice sounded when you were trying not to worry him.

Just tired.

That’s what you always said when you didn’t feel like eating before.

Hours passed. He showered. Got the laundry and folded his clothes. Worked on one of his essays. Brushed his teeth. 

At 11:42 p.m., he knocked on your door again holding a bowl with yogurt and mangos, voice muffled slightly through the wood.

“Y/N? Do you want a joghurt?”

No answer for a second. Then, softly, “Not really. Thank you though.”

He opened the door anyway.

You were sitting cross-legged in front of your bed on the floor, the model in front. In your right hand was a cutter and the other hand was holding a ruler, but they weren’t moving. They were just floating a few centimeters over the styrofoam. 

He walked over without a word and sat next to you. Your shoulder brushed his and you relaxed a bit. Letting your hands rest in your lap and looking at the small bowl Sunghoon was holding.

Then your head rested on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you said eventually. But your voice cracked a little at the end. “Just tired.”

Sunghoon nodded. 

Then he leaned closer and spoke gently. “Let’s eat something, mhm?”

You didn’t answer.

So he pulled you up.

Your hand slid into his. He held it without needing to say anything else.

He sat you down at the table, went to the fridge, and reheated a bowl of curry and rice in the microwave. It was a smaller portion that you were supposed to eat, but he figured you probably couldn’t really eat much. So he made sure there was at least something in your stomach. When he set the bowl and spoon in front of you, you glanced at it with tired eyes, then picked up the spoon.

You didn’t say anything. Just started eating slowly.

When you were halfway through the bowl, he asked, just as softly as before:

“Do you think you earned a kitty today?”

You paused mid-bite. The spoon hovered for a moment before you set it down gently. You didn’t look at him. You just shook your head once, small and quiet.

His chest tightened. It hurt to see you like this. 

You weren’t crying but you looked so upset.

But you were eating. Slowly. And he could work with that.

He just nodded his head a little and sat with you while you finished your bowl. 

Afterward, you helped rinse the plate. Even dried it. And then you returned to your room after muttering a “Thank you Sunghoon.”

He just smiled and watched you retreat into your room. Only to follow you a few seconds later. By the time he reached your door you were already sitting on the floor again. Sunghoon walked over quietly and crouched down beside you. His eyes scanned the mess of paper, foam board, tape, notes scribbled in pencil. Then he looked at you. 

“I’ll help you,” he said.

He grabbed the extra cutting board from the shelf under your table and started slicing the leftover foam you hadn’t touched yet into 1,3 cm thick stripes, like you told him. Sometimes you asked him to hold down corners for you when they curled up. 

By the time the clock on his phone read 3:47 AM, your hands had slowed down significantly.

The model looked more like a fancy opera now. 

He glanced at you.

You were blinking slowly, mouth slightly parted in a yawn.

“You should sleep,” he said softly.

You didn’t argue this time. “I should.”

He stood, offering his hand. You took it. Wobbled a little on your feet.

“Let’s sleep in my bed,” he hummed.

You mumbled something like “okay” and shuffled into the bathroom.

Sunghoon turned off the lights, checked the stove, and brushed the foam dust from his sweatpants. 

When he reached his room he stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of you curled into his bed, on what has become your side. 

It looked like you’d been here for hours, even though it had only been minutes. The quietness in the room, the soft rhythm of your breath under the covers, made his chest feel tight again. Not from worry this time, but from something much warmer. 

He closed the door quietly behind him and tiptoed over to the bed. He didn’t want to wake you in case you fell asleep in the three minutes you were lying in his bed.

Sunghoon slowly climbed into the bed, sliding under the covers and shifting closer to you. 

Then, before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from your face. You barely stirred, but a tiny little sigh slipped from your lips, and he smiled to himself.

“You good?” he whispered, careful not to startle you.

You mumbled something incoherent but soft, and adjusted your head to put it onto his chest.

Sunghoon chuckled quietly, not knowing what to say next. So, he just snuggled into his pillow.

────────────────────── You blinked awake slowly, the dull gray light of morning filtering through the blinds in Sunghoons room. Usually sleeping in the same bed as Sunghoon meant that you were sweating in the morning, but today you were feeling a bit cold. Your hand reached across the bed where Sunghoon should have been instinctively.

His side of the bed was no longer warm. You hand brushed over the soft duvet cover. 

It was strange, wasn’t it?

Feeling that someone was missing after waking up alone was not a thing you usually did. 

You know people complain about it, when their lovers slip out of the bed too early, leaving them alone in their shared bed. 

But Sunghoon wasn’t your lover. 

So why did it feel like that?

You sat up slowly, brushing hair from your face, the blanket slipped down your shoulders. It wasn’t like he disappeared. He was probably brushing his teeth or something. You dragged yourself out of bed, bare feet padding lightly against the floor.

The moment you cracked open your door, you were engulfed in a sweet smell. And a slightly burned smell.

You frowned, blinking toward the hallway, and then made your way into the kitchen.

Sunghoon was standing in front of the stove. His hair was standing up in different directions, the bleach damaged it enough to not fall softly unless he used the right hair care products. 

He was holding up a spatula and his phone at the same time, frowning at something on his phone. 

You leaned against the doorframe to the connected kitchen and living room, eyes flickering over the kitchen.

Your model was laying on the kitchen table. All of the tools and scraps and papers that were spread around on the floor in your room had been organized neatly on the table. Your laptop was charging on the kitchen island. Your pens lined up in a little row.

“Good morning Sunghoon”, you greeted him, your voice still rough from disuse.

You couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips when he turned around and you noticed the apron he had hanging around his front. He looked cute.

He turned around, startled, and blinked. “ Y/N. Morning.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you making pancakes?”

“They were supposed to be,” he said, flipping one that was definitely more black than brown. “You didn’t eat enough yesterday. So I’m bribing you.”

You walked forward, your feet freezing when you reached the tiled kitchen floor. “Bribing me with... questionable pancakes?”

“They’re not questionable,” he said. “They’re just... well-loved by the stove.”

You laughed softly and slipped into a chair at the table. The sight of your model, a little lopsided now that you weren’t looking at it in sleep-deprived haze, made your chest ache a bit again.

“Thank you Sunghoon.”, you said after a beat of silence. “For everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for everything you are doing.” 

He turned around, a soft smile adorning his lips. Your chest flustered a bit at the sight. “Always, Y/N. If you ever need help I’ll always be there to help. No matter if its slightly burned pancakes or your weird opera thing we are building together.”

Your eyes stung a bit and you had to break eye contact with him to not start crying.

He turned back around and cleared his voice slightly. “The others are coming over later. They want to help.” 

Your head lifted, a frown already forming between your brows. “Help? With the opera?”

He glanced over from the stove, eyebrows raised like he knew this reaction was coming. “Yeah.”

You blinked at him. “But… why? I didn’t–.”

Sunghoon flipped a pancake gently. “You don’t have to. They just want to do something. Jay, Jake, Heeseung… they all felt a little responsible. About the party. And everything after.”

You were quiet for a long moment. 

Somehow you felt touched. Really touched, in a way that made your throat tighten. And also a little ashamed.

How did you manage to be a burden to someone you barely knew. Why would they worry about you? Yes they invited you, but it wasn’t their fault it escalated like that. So why were they feeling bad about it. 

“I didn’t mean to make anyone worry,” you said softly.

Sunghoon turned again, his hands still holding the spatula. “I know you didn’t. But it’s okay if people care about you anyway.”

You looked away quickly, chest tight. “That doesn’t mean they should have to fix anything. Or help. I was just… not okay for a while. It’s not their problem.”

“They’re not trying to fix anything,” he said gently. “They just want to help now. In any way they can. If that means spending the afternoon cutting foam and toothpicks, that’s what they’ll do. Also—” he turned back to the stove with a quiet laugh, “—they think you’re cute.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

He hummed. “I quote: Sunghoon your roommate is so cute, I swear i want to put her in my pocket. Quote end.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips, even if your face was burning. “Oh my god, who said that?”

Sunghoon just grinned and plated the last pancake. “Jake. He said you were so cute when we went to the nationals. You felt so bad for everyone that just looked minimalistically sad after getting off the ice. He wanted to pet your head.”

“Oh my god.”, you buried your face in your hands.

He placed the plate between you both on the kitchen counter, grabbing the Nutella with one hand and a butter knife with the other. “Sorry they’re not perfect,” he murmured. “Kind of questionable in terms of color.”

You stood up and walked over to the counter, a soft smile playing on your lips. “They’re not questionable. They’re just… well-loved by the stove.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, low and warm. He drizzled more Nutella on top, spreading it with way more care than necessary. “Alright. Chocolate makes everything better. Maybe we won’t taste the love too much with the Nutella on top.”

You picked up your fork, the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder. The pancakes were a little uneven, a bit too crisp at the edges.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything when you slowed down halfway through. He just offered you another bite every now and then, and when you accepted, he smiled without a word.

“I really mean it,” you whispered after a while, when the plate was nearly empty. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression soft and unreadable. Then he said, quietly, “You don’t have to thank me. Just… let me stay. Let me help.”

Your eyes stung again. You glanced toward your model on the table and back to your plate. 

You didn’t know why he did all of this for you. You didn’t think you deserved it.

But it made your chest ache in the kindest way.

────────────────────── You and Sunghoon sat shoulder to shoulder at the table half an hour later. He passed you a glue stick without needing to be asked, and you handed him the little foam piece he’d marked earlier.

You were listening to a podcast, the only sound in the kitchen being the hosts voices and sounds of paper being cut. There were flecks of foam on his sleeve and your hair. Your knees bumped under the table more than once. 

You were just finishing the reinforcements on the roof when Sunghoon finished assembling the first tiny tree for your landscaping section. He looked more proud of it than he had of his last competition medal at the nationals.

“That’s actually so cute,” you murmured, leaning over to inspect it.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I'm naming it Gerald.”

You snorted. “Gerald looks very sturdy.”

Just as you repositioned the front wall, the doorbell rang.

You straightened, wiping your fingers on your pajama pants and giving Sunghoon a quick glance.

“That’s them,” he said, already heading to the door.

A moment later, you heard the greet Sunghoon and Jake walked into the kitchen holding up a tray of drinks from the cafe on the campus and a bag of baked goods. “Y/N! Good morning! We bought coffee and tea and those weird cookie croissants! ”

You stood a little awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure what to say. 

“Hi,” you said quietly, wringing your hands together. “Um… thank you for coming and the food. You really didn’t have to. I… I’m really sorry if—”

Jay cut you off with a wave of his hand, already moving toward the table where your model was set up. “Don’t apologize. We are here because we want to be..”

“Yeah,” Heeseung added, grinning as he peeked at the foam trees Sunghoon had started earlier. “This is fun. It’s like arts and crafts.”

Jay slung his hoodie over a chair and raised an eyebrow at you. “So. Where do we start?”

You stared at them for a second, something soft and confused blooming in your chest.

Sunghoon brushed past you, placing a gentle hand on your back as he nudged you back to your chair in front of the model. “We’ll show you. I can make banger trees but I need like 20 more and someone has to help me do that.”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.”, Jake said and dropped into the chair next to you.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and nodded, pulling out the extra materials you’d prepared earlier. “Okay. Um—Jay, can you help with the glueing? It’s a bit tricky, you have to hold the pieces for a few seconds until they set. You spray this stuff on, to like kinda immediately harden the glue. Someone has to cut the foil? I don’t know if i want to use it yet tho, we will have to try around a bit and-”

They listened to your explanations with surprising focus. Sunghoon switched the background noise from your true crime podcast you'd both barely been listening to, to a soft, upbeat playlist.

They started talking about something trivial but after a few minutes someone started complaining about the last match they played and they have been explaining the rules of ice hockey to you for the last fifteen minutes. 

“So basically you can crash into someone just because you feel like it and it’s okay?”, you asked, handing Sunghoon another strip of foam to hold up. 

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Sometimes. You should have seen Soobin. He was our captain until he graduated last semester and one of the best defense players we ever had.”

“Oh. That’s crazy.”, you said, nodding at the way the edge you and Sunghoon had just glued together. 

“Yeah. Crazy if you want to have a fifty-fifty chance to get a concussion each time you go onto the ice.”, Sunghoon huffed. 

“Sunghoon, I’m just saying,” Jake was saying as he carefully pressed together two model walls, “if you ever joined a hockey game, you’d cry the second someone shoved you.”

“I’ve literally skated through a concussion before,” Sunghoon replied, unfazed. “Try doing triple jumps with whiplash.”

“Triple jumps,” Jay snorted. “That’s just jumping in the same spot but fancier.”

You looked up from the hot glue gun. “I do think figure skating is harder? I mean if all you do is try not to die because someone slams you into a wall?”

Sunghoon smirked quietly. 

Jake gasped like you’d betrayed them. “Y/N! We do more than a figure skater. I might not be able to touch my toes but I must let you know that we have to strategize and you know work as a team and react as a team. Quickly.” 

“I still think ice skating is more impressive. It looks very elegant.”, you hummed.

Jay chuckled. “I think we look very graceful in our uniforms. At least we don’t have to wear glitter while skating, right Elsa.”

“Fuck off Jay,” Sunghoon muttered.

“I’m ruggedly graceful and elegant,” Jake said.

You giggled, caught between amusement and slight awe. “So… do you guys always argue about which is better?”

“Absolutely,” Heeseung said, handing you a fresh strip of cut foam. 

“It’s not a competition,” Sunghoon said under his breath. “Not one they’d win anyway.”

“Oh my god,” Jay sighed.

Heeseung looked at you. “You could come to a match if you wanted to.”

You raised a brow. “And then what? Watch you get pushed around and then decide if I enjoy ice hockey or ice skating more?”

They all looked at each other like that was exactly the idea.

“If Sunghoon goes to the next one, I'll come along,” you said, quieter now.

You felt Sunghoon glance over at you, his fingers stilling for a second on the model.

“I really don't want to go alone,” you added, more softly this time.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. But when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, eyes gentle, mouth tipped upward just enough to make your heart flutter.

“Okay,” he said, that same warmth in his voice he always got when talking just to you. “I’ll take you.”

────────────────────── An hour later Jay was standing in the kitchen chopping onions. He decided to cook steak and potatoes for the four of you, apparently craving it enough to spend half a fortune on meat. After a while the kitchen started to smell intensely like food. 

It didn’t smell bad,  but somehow your stomach was tightening up a bit at the smell. 

You glanced at the stove. 

“Jay?” you called gently.

He looked over immediately, knife still in hand.

“I think my stomach’s gonna hate me if I eat that much red meat,” you admitted, a little unsure. “I haven’t really had a lot of it lately.”

He blinked once, then shrugged. “Alright. Yours’ll be dry, no blood, as unred as possible. Would you like more potatoes instead?”

You stared at him for a second. “...Yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

“Gotchu,” he said simply, already turning back to the pan.

You sat back, feeling weirdly relieved. Just… okay, more potatoes it is.

Heeseung had taken over tree production by now and was giving each one increasingly ridiculous names, while Jake and Sunghoon were helping you with the decorative beams along the walls of the building. 

──────────────────────

When the other three left your apartment late in the afternoon your model was almost done. It was almost perfect and you had just a few things on your to do list to finish up. Which meant you could dedicate Sunday and Monday to drawing and working out the details. And get a healthy amount of sleep.  

The door clicked shut behind Heeseung, and the sudden quiet that followed felt strange. 

Sunghoon stretched and groaned when his back made a rather satisfying cracking 

You heard him plop down onto the sofa and turned around to a rather funny view. 

He had let himself drop over the backrest, one of his long legs was hooked over the backrest, along with one of his arms. The other arm was resting over his eyes and he groaned again: “Y/N I don’t get how you do this. My fingers hurt and my back feels like I sat for 80 years instead of 8 hours.” 

You laughed slightly. “I try to not work 8 hours in a row unusually but desperate situations demand drastic measures.” 

You hesitated for a second but stepped in front of the sofa. “I think I'm going to make a snack or something. You can nap and I’ll wake you when it’s done if you’d like?” Sunghoon just hummed and nodded.

So you padded slowly and quietly into the kitchen, rolling your shoulders out with a satisfying crack of your own before pulling open the fridge. There were still a few cherry tomatoes left, a cucumber, some bell pepper slices in a container from the day before, and the rest of the cream cheese dip Sunghoon liked. That would do.

You arranged it all with more care than you meant to, piling the sliced vegetables and a bit of fruit on a small plate and spooning a generous portion of the dip into a small bowl. When you were done, you stood in front of the calendar hanging on the fridge and carefully peeled one of the glossy cat stickers from the sheet. It was a grey tabby this time, curled up asleep. You pressed it down next to the date with a quiet smile.

You’d eaten today.

You’d eaten well today.

The steak had gone down with barely a protest from your stomach and stayed down. You weren’t quite sure how that had happened, but it had.

So you deserved your little cat sticker.

Sunghoon was still in the same ridiculous position when you came back. His mouth slightly open and he was snoring slightly. Completely wiped out from cutting and glueing some cardboard.

You didn’t want to wake him. So you set the plate carefully on the table in front of the sofa and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back resting against the bottom cushion. Your phone buzzed with a message from Johnny asking you how you were doing. You send him a selfie of you holding up a piece of bell pepper and sunghoons sleeping from behind you, telling him you had steak today. He replied with a selfie of Dukoo laying on his chest and Taeyong sleeping on his shoulder, his mouth wide open. You snickered quietly.

After a while you were bored by your phone, so you got up to get the book you were currently reading and your headphones from your room.

You were halfway through a chapter when fingers brushed through your hair. So light, so gentle, you almost thought you imagined it.

But then it happened again.

You turned your head slightly and looked up.

Sunghoon’s eyes had blinked open, still a little hazy with sleep. His hand was still resting lightly on the back of your head, tangled just barely in your hair, and when your eyes met, he didn’t pull it away.

He just gave you a tiny, sleepy smile and petted your hair again. 

A strand had come loose from your braid and he twirled it between his fingers.

You swallowed slowly, heart thudding louder than you liked. “You’re awake,” you said, barely a whisper.

He hummed, low in his chest, and his hand slipped a little lower, brushing behind your ear. “I felt you leave,” he murmured.

You didn’t move, fearing that he would stop playing with your hair if you did. 

“Did you eat?” he asked softly, finally glancing at the plate in front of you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just-just vegetables and fruit.”

His eyes flicked back to you. “Enough so you could put a kitty on the calendar?”

You nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah.”

He sat up a bit more, leaning forward slightly so his knees nudged your back. His voice was even softer now. “I’m so proud of you.”

You turned toward him at that, just enough to see him clearly. He looked so warm, hoodie slightly bunched at the collar, hair tousled from sleep. 

You swallowed and whispered a quiet “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes again so you went back to reading.

You didn’t hear him sit up behind you.

But you felt it when the warmth of his body shifted closer. The sofa cushion gave in under his weight as he slid down to sit beside you on the floor.

Your breath caught, just for a second, when your shoulder touched his.

He reached for the remote and a second later, the TV lit up the room in a soft blue glow. He switched channels to find KBS.

You glanced up. Sunghoon was lazily chewing a piece of carrot, reaching for another from the small plate you’d left on the table. Without looking at you, he nudged it a little closer to your side, silently offering.

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips.

Sunghoon leaned back, propping one arm up behind him on the couch. And after a moment of hesitation you let yourself lean too. Your head found his shoulder, slow and soft, the way it always did now. His hoodie was warm, soft beneath your cheek, and smelled faintly like his perfume.

He didn’t move.

The low sound of the show played on. A laugh track. A bit of dialogue. But neither of you laughed. Neither of you spoke.

You felt him breathe.

You listened to the rhythm of it, right beneath your cheek.

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

He shifted slightly, just barley. His head moved a bit and his temple brushed against your hair, his breath ghosting across your skin. You tilted your head instinctively, and suddenly you were looking at him.

He was already looking at you.

Your breath stuttered.

You froze.

You looked at his mouth before you could stop yourself.

Then back to his eyes.

And again.

Your chest pulled tight.

His lips were parted slightly.

He didn’t look away when your gaze wandered back to his eyes.

You couldn’t stop the flicker of panic that swelled in your chest.

You turned your head slightly, just slightly, without really thinking about it. Your nose grazed his cheek.

And then he turned his head too. Slowly. Gently. His temple brushing yours as he moved.

Your foreheads touched.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

You closed your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Trying to slow the pounding of your heart.

His fingers grazed your knee, just barely. You wanted to say something, to move, to...kiss him.

But your whole body locked up with nerves and want and a fear you couldn’t name.

So you didn’t.

You sat there.

Still.

Almost.

And then, after one long heartbeat, he leaned back the tiniest bit. Just enough for the space between you to widen again.

You opened your eyes.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

──────────────────────

After the episode ended Sunghoon stood up, slow and silent, his fingers brushing the blanket beside you. You stayed still, heart still racing in your chest. 

“Should we...” he didn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what he meant. You nodded, your body slow to follow.

The quiet buzz of the TV filled the space between you as you both moved, soft-footed and wordless. He picked up the now-empty plate from the table. You turned off the lamp.

In the bathroom, you stood shoulder to shoulder while brushing your teeth. His elbow bumped yours lightly once, and you bumped him back, the corner of your lips curling around the toothbrush. You caught his eye in the mirror. He was winking at you.

His white hair almost reflected the harsh bathroom light, as it  softly fell over his eyes. The whole scene felt so domestic your heart was aching. 

You finished first. You washed your face and used the ridiculous amount of skin care products Sunoo insisted made your skin better. He gave you a lot of the stuff that didn't work for him and you were just accepting the free skincare.  

You lingered in the hallway for a second too long after brushing your teeth. The light behind you still hummed softly from the bathroom, casting your shadow long and thin across the floor. You expected Sunghoon to disappear into his room with a soft goodnight.

But he didn’t.

He paused in his doorway, hand resting lightly on the frame. Then he looked at you,not directly. His tired eyes flicked toward you. And then, with barely a movement, he tilted his head. A silent question without words.

You didn’t answer with words either.

You just followed.

Your steps were quiet as you crossed the space, the air between you charged in that gentle, quiet way. You slipped into his room, your hoodie sleeves tugged down over your hands. He let the door close behind you.

The room smelled distinctly like him.

He crawled into his bed, pulling the blanket back slowly as if giving you a moment to change your mind. But you didn’t. You slid in beside him, your shoulder brushing his briefly before you turned onto your side, facing the wall. 

You couldn’t handle sleeping on his chest today. Somehow the thought alone made your heart race. 

It shouldn’t. 

This was so wrong. 

Sunghoon was your roommate. 

During the episode of running man you had enough time to conclude that the racing of your heart and the desire to make him, especially him, proud was based on a crush. A very inappropriate crush on your very nice and hot and caring and sweet and attractive roommate.

A few seconds later, you felt the mattress shift behind you. He carefully adjusted behind you. Not touching you, but being close enough you felt the heat of his body though your hoodie.  

A quiet part of you ached just a little when he didn’t wrap himself around you, like he sometimes did on the sofa.

──────────────────────

You lay there for what felt like hours, eyes open in the quiet dark, watching the way the dim hallway light pooled faintly across the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn't come.

Your thoughts were running wild and you didn’t know what to do.

So you rolled over.

Carefully. Slowly.

You didn’t even fully realize what you were doing until you were halfway into the movement, your hand lightly brushing the comforter between you.

He didn’t move.

So you went further, tucking your head gently onto his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t wake up.

Still nothing.

Just the quiet sound of his breathing. And then, after a beat–his arm moved.

Not abruptly. But his hand came up in a slow, sleepy motion and started tracing a soft pattern against your back.

Your chest felt too tight for this much softness.

"Were you asleep?" you whispered.

He made a small noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. "I was," he murmured. "But this is better."

You stayed quiet, listening to the rhythm of his breath and the way his fingers still traced your back, up and down, in lazy, tender lines.

After a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’m so glad I moved.”

Your throat tightened. You blinked at the ceiling.

“I’m glad you're here too,” you whispered. “But…”

You paused, already regretting saying anything. But you couldn’t stop. 

“But it must be kind of awful, right? Having to take care of me like this? We didn’t even know each other. I probably made everything way harder.”

His fingers stilled just for a second.

Then he exhaled, hand moving again. Slowly this time, his palm almost resting between your shoulder blades.

“Y/N,” he said, like he was saying your name to soothe you. “It’s not like that.”

You didn’t reply. 

You weren’t sure you could.

“I know it feels like you’re a burden sometimes,” he went on gently, “but I promise you-you're not. Not to me.”

You stared at the vague outline of his neck, blinking quickly. “I just… I don’t want to be someone people have to carry. I want to be someone people want around.”

He was quiet for a beat. You thought maybe he didn’t know how to respond.

But then his hand stopped moving entirely and slid around your back, anchoring you closer, just a little. Not too much. Just enough that your forehead nearly brushed his collarbone.

“I don’t feel like I’m carrying you,” he said. 

Your heart thudded so loudly you were sure he could feel it.

“I like being here,” he said. “I like helping with the model, and grocery shopping, and seeing you put stickers on the calendar. I like listening when you rant about your professor or whisper that you're tired. I like it when you fall asleep on the sofa next to me.”

His voice was steadier now, but still low. 

“I like it,” he said, “because it’s you.”

You blinked hard.

Your throat burned.

“But I haven’t even done anything for you,” you murmured. “Not really.”

He made a soft sound at that. “You really think that?”

You nodded a little. His shirt brushed your cheek. “I feel like I’m just… needing all the time. And you just give.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’ve done more for me than you know.”

Your brows pulled together before you could stop them. “Like what?”

There was a pause. Not silence, not really, but a moment held so carefully you didn’t dare breathe.

“You made this place feel like home,” he said finally. “You make me laugh when I’ve had a bad day. You believe in me when I don’t believe in myself.”

The lump in your throat nearly doubled in size.

You couldn’t speak.

So you just… leaned in.

Laid your forehead against his chest, eyes burning, heart twisting.

He didn’t say anything after that. Neither did you.

But his arms pulled you in slowly. Gently.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, folded into the warmth of him, listening to his heartbeat and the way his breathing slowed. You could feel his hand resting lightly against your back, not moving anymore. Just there. Steady.

You should’ve tried to sleep. You should’ve just closed your eyes.

But instead, you felt your mouth part. 

“Sunghoon?” you whispered, barely audible.

His chest shifted with a breath. “Yeah?”

Your hand curled against the fabric of his shirt. “Can…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t looking at him. You couldn’t.

He was silent. Even his breathing had stopped. 

You instantly regretted asking.

You’d never kissed anyone. You didn't know how to do so. Asking was the most logical thing to your head. 

You could feel your whole body tense. “I’m sorry, I just—forget it, I don’t—”

He let out the softest sound. A breath that sounded like laughter, barely there, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just asked–but not in a mocking way. In a stunned, almost reverent kind of way.

Then he shifted.

You felt his hand move. He brushed your hair back, careful and slow. His fingers tucked the strands behind your ear, and his palm settled gently against your cheek.

When you finally looked up, he was already watching you.

Eyes soft. 

Warm. 

The corners crinkled in that way they always did when he smiled without really smiling.

His thumb brushed the curve of your cheekbone. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your breath caught.

For a second, you forgot how to move.

And then, slowly and carefully, you leaned in.

You weren’t sure where to put your hands. Or how close you should get. Your heart felt like it might combust from the pressure alone. You tilted your head, eyes flicking to his lips and back to his eyes, over and over, waiting for some final confirmation.

And then, your lips touched.

It was soft.

Softer than you ever imagined it could be.

There were no fireworks in your chest. You didn’t feel any butterflies. Just warmth. Gentle warmth. The steady beat of your heart slowing for the first time all week. 

His lips moved slowly against yours, careful. Guiding, but not pushing. Letting you take the lead, letting you pull away whenever.

When you finally did, it was only by a few centimeters, and you stayed there. Your foreheads almost touching, your hand still pressed to his chest, his softly caressing your face.

Your cheeks were glowing. Your lips tingled. You couldn’t look at him.

“I didn’t… know it would feel like that,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Like what?”

You blinked, breathing softly. “Good? Right?”

And when he smiled this time, you could hear it in his voice.

“Yeah,” he said, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Right.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. Breathing the same small pocket of air. His thumb brushed once over your cheekbone, then again, as if he couldn’t believe that you were here. That you had kissed him.

That you had wanted to.

And you had. Still did.

Your fingers flexed slightly in the fabric of his shirt. He shifted, just barely.

He pulled back only enough to look at you again.

Your face flushed under the weight of his gaze, but you didn’t turn away this time. You let him look. Let yourself be seen. Your chest ached in that strange, unfamiliar way—half-sweet, half-scary. The way it always does when something is too good and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to keep it.

But he just smiled.

So softly it made your breath catch.

And then, he leaned in again.

Slower this time.

His lips brushed yours so lightly.

You kissed him back.

His lips were soft and tasted like the mint toothpaste he used earlier.

When he pulled away this time, he stayed close.

His nose brushed yours. Your breath mingled. He whispered, barely audible, “I really like you.”

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t know what to say.

Your hand slid up, fingers resting over his heart. You felt it beating, fast and steady beneath your palm. 

You must’ve dozed off like that.

Curled into his chest, legs tangled gently under the covers, the heat of his skin lulling you deeper into calm with every slow breath.

When you stirred again, it was because he shifted a little, barely more than a sigh against your hair.

“Still awake?” His voice was quiet, hoarse with sleep.

You nodded against him. “Mmhm.”

He pulled you in a little closer, resting his chin carefully against the top of your head. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

Your smile was tiny. “You’re comfy.”

A pause. Then, “You drool.”

You shoved at his chest with a muffled groan, and he let out a quiet laugh that vibrated through you.

“I do not,” you whispered indignantly.

“You do,” he whispered back, grinning. “But it’s okay. I’ve decided I’ll allow it.”

You went quiet again, pressing your nose into his hoodie and breathing him in. You wanted to say something–to tell him how unreal this felt, how scared you still were, how good it felt too. But the words got stuck somewhere behind your ribs.

Instead, your fingers curled against his side, and you whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask what for.

He just held you tighter.

Somewhere between his warmth and the comfort of the quiet, you felt your chest ease. 

He kissed your forehead a moment later and you just…melted a little. 

You would let yourself have this. Just this one perfect thing. 

This time, you were the one to whisper first. Just barely audible:

“I like you too.”

His hand stilled where it had been gently tracing over your spine. And then, he whispered, just above your ear:

“I know.”

You smiled again. 

This time, when your eyes closed, you didn’t fight it.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon woke up first, the quiet morning light spilling softly through the curtains. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he just lay there, completely still, taking in the sight of you. Your face was relaxed in peaceful sleep, your hair spread out over the pillow like a halo. He could feel your breath against his chest, slow and steady, and the weight of your body pressed against his side, warm and comforting.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

Sunghoon could hardly believe what had happened the night before. Everything felt like a dream. 

He had somehow been waiting for this moment without even knowing it. 

His head replayed the moment. How you had been so close. How you asked him to kiss you and, how carefully, how gently, you had let him kiss you. And then you kissed him back.

Your breath hitched lightly in your sleep, and for a split second, he thought you might wake up, but you only shifted, pressing your cheek further into his chest.

He smiled to himself, unable to stop the soft warmth blooming in his chest. 

He wanted nothing more than to hold you like this forever, to keep you safe, to keep you with him.

His fingers lightly brushed the back of your neck, tracing the soft line of your skin. 

He glanced down at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest, listening to the peaceful rhythm of your breath. 

Sunghoon wanted to savor this, savor you, in the quiet morning light. He didn’t know what exactly this was yet, where it was going, but he also kinda didn’t care. 

He was just so glad that you were here. With him.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek softly. You were so beautiful, even in the quiet stillness of the morning, so perfect that it almost didn’t feel real. He just wished you could see that too. 

He remembered the night you had laid across his chest on the sofa the first time, your body was so close. He remembered feeling the soft dip of your ribs through your shirt. It wasn’t so bad anymore. The meal plan was working better than he had thought it would.

Your ribs weren’t as sharp now. You were still tired and freezing but it was getting so much better. Even your migraines seemed to lessen.

He was so proud of you, of how far you had come, even though he knew that there was still a long way to go. He just hoped you would let him be part of that, you would let him help until you didn’t need help anymore. 

Sunghoon had to fight the urge to wake you up, to kiss you again. To pull you even closer. But he decided to let you rest for a few more minutes, knowing that your alarm would ring at 10 am, like it always did on the weekend.

For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to wake up like this every day. Next to you, your head on his chest, your body curled into his. Of being able to kiss you stupid if he wanted to. 

You shifted. Your face was still soft with sleep but your eyes fluttered open. 

“Good morning,” he murmured gently, brushing his fingers over your hair, pushing a strand away from your forehead. He really loved your hair. “Do you want breakfast?” he asked softly.

You barely cracked one eye open and a sleepy hum escaped your lips as you nodded slightly in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Mm, yes.”

His heart melted at the sight. He had seen you wake up only a handful of times. Usually if the two of you slept in one bed together you were the first one to wake up. 

You sounded so out of it. 

“Alright,” he said, trying not to smile too much. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, feeling the softness of your hair beneath his lips. “I’ll get breakfast started then.”

But just as he started to move, you whimpered, the soft, almost pained sound stopping him in his tracks. He froze, unsure of what to do for a second, his heart skipping a beat.

“Stay...” you murmured, your voice low and drowsy, your body still nestled against the warmth of his chest.

He smiled, shaking his head lightly. “You need to eat, Y/N. I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn’t want to be away from you, but he knew you needed to get up. You had to eat and probably start drawing whatever you still needed to draw for your assignment. 

You groaned in response, squinting your eyes closed again. But then, you slowly allowed him to shift away, the tiniest sigh escaping your lips. You looked at him for a moment, your gaze still clouded with sleep, before you gave him a lazy smile, still blinking away the sleep in your eyes.

“Okay…” you mumbled.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon,” he said softly, sliding out of bed. As he moved towards the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance back over his shoulder at you, still lying there, all tangled in the blankets.

He couldn’t help but smile.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon felt your presence behind him before he saw you. He heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him and paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow, not expecting you to follow so quickly. 

Before he could react, you pressed your body gently into his back, your face nestling against his shoulder blade. He froze for a moment, feeling your warmth against him, and a quiet laugh bubbled up from deep within his chest. 

He knew you were kinda clingy, when you liked someone. He had seen how you liked to be close to Mark, how you sometimes followed Sunoo or Renjun like a lost duckling in the hallways of the university and has had the pleasure of you somehow clinging to him as well. Coming to the kitchen to work in silence while he was cooking, sitting down on the sofa to watch whatever he was watching, even if he knew you weren't interested, cuddling on the sofa or one of your beds when one of you felt down. 

But it wasn’t like you to be so forward.

When he turned around to face you, he was met with your eyes, they were wide and a little uncertain, and that small, shy smile you always wore when you were feeling bashful. It made his heart soften even more.

His hand instinctively reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing the softness of your skin.

"You okay?" His voice was low, a soft question, as he studied you, the tender expression on his face betraying his own racing thoughts.

“I... didn’t think it would feel like this,” you finally muttered, almost shyly, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his eyes again. “I mean... it’s... different than I thought it would be.”

Sunghoon smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek again. "It’s okay," he said softly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

He saw the hesitation in your eyes before you carefully placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him, slightly clumsy in your movements but so endearing. "I just... want to know how," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t really know what I’m doing."

His heart skipped a beat, a quiet warmth spreading through him. Sunghoon couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound of it light and full of affection. “You’re doing just fine,” he reassured you, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss.

This time, when your lips met his, it was softer, slower. There was no rush. His hands gently found their way to your back, pulling you closer but not forcing anything. He just wanted to be close.

You kissed him back, your lips tentative at first but gradually growing more confident as you moved with him. 

It wasn’t perfect.

There were moments of awkwardness, a little shifting as you both figured out the rhythm, but it felt right. It felt... new.

When you finally pulled away, your breathing was a little heavier, and there was that nervous little smile on your face, making Sunghoon’s chest ache with affection.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he teased gently, his thumb brushing over your lips before he smiled down at you, his gaze soft.

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed . “I- no- no it's nice. I like kissing you.”

Sunghoon couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. It was a little silly, maybe, how happy he felt about something so simple. 

"I’m glad," he whispered.

──────────────────────

The days after your first kiss were somehow weird. Nice. But weird.  Your and Sunghoons dynamic didn’t really change after you kissed.  What changed were the small things. Like how Sunghoon had developed a tendency to press a kiss to your forehead or the crown of your head whenever he walked past you. At first, it startled you. Then it became something you looked forward to. Sunoo teasingly claimed it was because Sunghoon didn’t want to overwhelm you by kissing you all the time. Since you really didn’t have much experience there and maybe Sunghoon was afraid you would be uncomfortable. You wouldn’t have been. You wouldn’t have minded at all if Sunghoon kissed you more. In fact, you wanted him to.

You liked the way it felt, his fingers slipping into your hair, the warm pressure of his mouth against yours, the way your breath always caught for a second b. You liked being close to him. That simple.  It was a Thursday evening, the day you handed in your final model in Sustainability,  when you surprised both of you. You were standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands still damp from rinsing a cutting board, when you heard the familiar clink of keys and the quiet creak of the front door. 

Sunghoon padded over behind you, still smelling faintly like his perfume, even after training. He must have brought it to the rink and sprayed it on again. You felt him lean in to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

But this time, you moved first.

You tilted your head up on instinct. The angle was a little off, his nose bumped yours, but it didn’t matter. Your lips caught his, quick and soft, before you could overthink it.

You surprised yourself.

And him.

His eyes were wide for half a second, startled, and then they softened.

You whispered a quiet, breathless, “Hi,” against his lips. 

Sunghoon smiled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your face. He really liked doing that as well. 

“Hi,” he whispered back, eyes still on yours.

Then, with the other hand against your jaw, fingers brushing just under your ear, he tilted your head up a bit and kissed you again. Slower this time. Deeper. And everything in you went quiet and full, like a held breath exhaled at last.

Sunghoon's thumb brushed along your jaw as he pulled back slightly, breath still warm against your skin. His eyes, gentle and a little tired from training, crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Sorry," he murmured, voice low. “I didn’t shower in the rink, I’m a bit gross. I just came to check if you ate.” 

You blinked up at him. Right. Eating.

You wordlessly lifted a finger and pointed toward the calendar hanging by the fridge.

He turned, followed your line of sight and laughed softly. A new sticker sat under the day's date, small and shiny. This one was a tiny white puppy with a floppy ear and a pink tongue sticking out.

"New pack?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, and he reached up to brush his thumb once under your eye, so softly it barely counted as touch. 

“You’re too cute,” he said. His voice was so warm, so fond. You were so happy you got to see Sunghoon like this. 

He leaned in again, just one more press of lips to yours. 

“I’m gonna shower, okay?” he said as he pulled away, slowly, reluctantly.

You nodded again, feeling lightheaded in the nicest possible way.

As he disappeared down the hallway, you stopped for a moment, the soft overhead light casting a golden glow on the counter and the fruit you had forgotten about entirely.

You were giddy.

Your knees felt a little weak and your lips tingled. 

You popped a grape into your mouth and padded to the couch with the plate in hand, settling into the cushions like you had a secret folded under your skin.

You didn’t even pick a show right away - just sat there for a while, nibbling fruit, listening to the sound of water running through the walls, your fingers pressed against your lips.

──────────────────────

When Sunghoon padded out of the bathroom, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, hoodie sleeves pushed up over his forearms, the first thing he noticed was how quiet the apartment had gotten. The radio that was playing in the kitchen when he came home was quiet and he didn’t hear the TV making any sounds. 

Then he saw you. You were curled up on the sofa, blanket sliding off your shoulder, the plate of fruit halfway eaten empty on the table.

He chuckled under his breath, ruffling his hair with a towel before tossing it over his shoulder. “Didn’t you say you wanted to watch the episode?” he asked gently, kneeling next to the couch.

You whined softly, not bothering to open your eyes. “I did…” your voice was muffled by the cushion. “But I'm too tired. I don’t want to get up.”

Sunghoon smiled, shaking his head fondly. “Come on, sleepy. Let’s get you to bed.”

When you didn't move, he sighed and simply slipped one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You let out a tiny squeak as he lifted you with surprising ease.

“Sunghoon!” you protested faintly, eyes fluttering open now.

But he just grinned down at you, walking toward his room with careful steps. “You didn’t move to get up, so now you don’t have to.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, hiding your flushed cheeks. “I didn’t mean you had to carry me.”

He set you down gently at the edge of his bed, grabbing his laptop to queue up the episode again. “Go get ready, yeah? You’re not sleeping in jeans again.”

You pouted, fingers curling around the hem of his hoodie 

It took a moment before you finally shuffled off to the bathroom. When you returned your hair was pulled back in a neat braid and your eyes were half-lidded with sleep. He was already under the covers, the screen glowing with the paused episode.

You climbed in beside him without a word, immediately curling into his side, arm around his waist, cheek to his chest.

“Better?” he murmured, adjusting the blanket around you.

You nodded sleepily, lips barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Mmhm.”

He kissed the top of your head, soft and slow and started the episode.

You were asleep before the second scene.

──────────────────────

You pushed the broccoli on your plate to the side.

It wasn’t even that much food. Not really. It should be more.

But it even the small dinner portion felt like a mountain today

Your stomach felt full from breakfast and lunch and the little snacks you ate in between.

Your mind had started counting again the second you sat down. Like a reel stuck on loop.

210 for the rice. 130 for the chicken. The oil? 40? 50? That made…

You stopped.

Didn’t want to know.

Wanted to know so badly it ached.

The numbers didn’t add up right. Or they added up too much. Or not enough.

This week was supposed to be better.

You were supposed to try harder.

You upped your calorie intake goal last monday.

Just like you had done a week before and a week before that one. You meal prepped your breakfst and lunch, your snacks, cooked with Sunghoon, when both of you were home and not stuck in the academy to prerp for exams.

Your did best to eat it all.

You couldn't.

Not once.

But somehow your stomach rebelled every time. Either you felt too full, too fast, or just sick at the thought of finishing a full plate.

You hadn’t filled in your calendar once. Not a single dog. Not even the tiny one Sunghoon said counted “just for trying.”

You felt like you were breaking your own promises.

Like you were letting everyone down.

However that wasn't the worst thing.

You were lying.

You got home before Sunghoon today. He had group work again, most of the people in his classes being athletes meant that most meetings started late and dragged past 10. He texted you “Dinner together?” and you’d typed “Already ate! But I’ll sit with you :)" before you could overthink it.

Then you tossed the leftover broccoli and chicken into the trash can, tied the bag up and brought it downstairs. You rinsed your plate and the one you usually used for your fruits and set them in the sink.

And you hated yourself a little for it. Not only for wasting food. But for even knowing what to do to make it believable you ate. And did so, for the third time in a row now

You knew Sunghoon would be supportive even if you couldn't eat today.

But maybe he would be mad you lied.

Sunghoon never got mad.

But because he’d be kind.

He’d be soft.

You were disappointing him.

You blinked hard and wiped your palms on your thighs.

It’s just food.

It’s just dinner.

It’s just one stupid sticker.

But it felt like proof. 

Proof that you failed. 

That you weren't getting better, no many how many people helped you.

──────────────────────

You heard the soft click of the front door unlocking before his familiar footsteps padded down the hallway. You sat up straighter on the couch, quickly grabbing your phone to pretend you hadn’t just been staring blankly at the floor.

He stepped into the living room, hair a little damp from the evening drizzle, eyes tired but bright when they landed on you.

“Hey,” he said softly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You were grateful–so, so grateful–he kissed you there and not on your lips. You weren’t sure what your breath might smell like after hours of nothing but water and mint gum. But you weren’t hungry. That was the worst part. You were feeling so full even if you didn't eat enough for your dog. Even if the thought of doing so made your stomach lurch. Sunghoon dropped onto the couch next to you with a tired exhale, stretching out long beside you. “Group work is the worst,” he muttered, tipping his head to the side to look at you. “I swear half the time is just arguing over who’s doing what. And I got roped into designing the slides again.” You smiled faintly, nodding. You wanted to ask him more, about the project, about the annoying guy in his group he always complained about, but the words didn’t make it to your mouth. Everything was muffled behind a thick, dull fog. His voice softened. “You okay?” You blinked and forced your lips into a gentler curve. “Yeah,” you said. “Just… think I’ve got a migraine coming on.” His brows pulled together in quiet concern. “Do you want me to get your stuff?” You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s fine. I took something already. I just—” you leaned a little into the couch cushions, “—need to rest, I think.”

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning your face like he didn’t quite believe you but wasn’t going to push. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said after a second. “Gonna wash off real quick.”

You nodded again and watched him disappear down the hallway.

And then you were alone again.

You curled your fingers into the hem of your sweater and exhaled.

You weren’t even sure what you needed to do to feel better.

To eat?

To cry?

To stop feeling like this?

But the only thing you were sure of was this:

You didn’t want him to know.

A few minutes later Sunghoon rounded the couch and dropped down beside you. The cushions dipped under his weight, his familiar warmth filling the small space between you both.

You kept your smile in place, the same soft, practiced curve of your lips. But you felt too aware of your body–of the weight in your stomach, the lingering guilt simmering under your skin.

He stretched his legs out, leaning his head back against the couch, exhaling like he was finally able to breathe again. "I swear I am so glad when my exams are over," he groaned.

You nodded, letting out a faint hum in agreement.

But his gaze flickered to you almost immediately.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

Your breath caught, and you stared at the screen of your phone, forcing yourself to keep your tone light. “Yeah, just… tired.”

He didn’t say anything right away.

You could feel his eyes on you, lingering like he was searching for something you weren’t ready to give.

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten.

A beat passed.

“Did you eat something good for dinner? I'm going to make myself something, do you want to eat a bit with me?” he asked, softer this time.

Your heart stuttered painfully against your ribs. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, nodding with a small smile you hoped looked convincing. “Mhm. I’m fine, I already ate dinner.”

Another pause.

He shifted closer, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind you. "Did you get your little dog sticker?" His voice was light–teasing–but you could hear the quiet worry threaded beneath it.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t look at him, just stared at your hands in your lap as your smile faltered for a split second.

And that was all it took.

His hand gently brushed over your arm. "Y/N," he said softly, "you know you don’t have to lie to me, right? It's okay if you're not feeling okay."

Your throat tightened painfully.

“I’m not—” You stopped yourself. The words tangled. Lying felt worse when he said it like that.

He shifted again, moving to face you fully this time, his knee brushing yours. “It’s okay if you didn’t reach your goal today.” His voice was quiet, careful. “I’m still proud of you for trying.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them.

You shook your head, blinking hard, unable to look at him. “I just… I thought you’d be disappointed.”

“Hey,…” His hand found yours, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because I couldn’t…” You swallowed, the guilt finally pushing its way to the surface. “I couldn’t do it right. Not today. Not this week. I wanted to-but it’s just-” Your breath hitched. “It’s not enough.”

He was quiet for a moment before his hand squeezed yours, grounding and warm.

“It’s always enough,” he said softly. “You’re always enough.”

You finally looked up, and the warmth in his eyes nearly broke you.

“And you don’t have to prove anything to me to make me proud,” he added, voice softer now. “Just… let me be here with you, okay? Even on the days that feel hard.”

Something in your chest cracked open at that.

You nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. “Okay.”

He pulled you into his side without another word, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. 

──────────────────────

You waited until his breathing evened out.

Soft and steady. His arm was draped loosely around your middle, like it always was. 

Your chest felt tight. Like the air in your lungs wasn’t settling right. Like you couldn’t breathe. 

You slid out from under the covers carefully, inch by inch. His body shifted a little, but he didn’t wake up.

You hoped he didn’t.

The kitchen was mostly dark when you padded in barefoot. The city outside glowed faintly through the sheer curtains, casting pale golden lines across the calendar hanging on the fridge. The little dog stickers stared back at you, soft and silly and so stupidly kind-looking it made something inside your chest twist.

None for the last week.

You’d tried.

You really, really tried.

But every time you sat down in front of a plate, something clenched in your gut. The idea of eating more made your throat tight. You felt full already. And not in a satisfied way. In a sick way.

But still you told Sunghoon you had eaten.

You even rinsed off the plate and put it in the sink so it looked like you had.

You had lied to him.

Your eyes burned, staring at that empty row on the calendar. You hugged your knees to your chest, curling up on one of the kitchen chairs like you used to do when you were younger. 

Everything felt too big and too loud and too much.

You didn’t hear him at first.

But then there was the softest creak of the floorboard behind you, and you turned, startled, to see Sunghoon standing at the edge of the hallway. His bleached hair was messy from sleep, a faint crease on one cheek. He was just in sweatpants and a t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up. His eyes locked on yours almost immediately.

“Y/N…” he said softly, his voice thick with sleep and something else. 

Concern.

You looked away.

He walked toward you, bare feet making almost no sound and crouched down beside your chair, resting one hand on the armrest, the other lightly brushing your calf.

“You okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, then nodded. You weren’t sure which one was truer.

He followed your gaze to the calendar, to the bare stretch of empty squares. You felt your lip wobble and hated it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, quietly. His hand slid up to your knee, warm and grounding. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I just… I wanted to do better this week.”

“I know.”

“I thought if I just told you I ate enough you wouldn’t be–” You broke off.

He didn’t flinch. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’ll never be.”

You finally looked at him.

He held your gaze for a long moment. And then he stood up slowly, his hand reaching out toward you.

“Come back to bed,” he said, so gently it made your chest ache.

You hesitated.

But then you let him pull you up. Let him wrap your hand in his and guide you through the soft dark of the apartment. Back to the bedroom, back to the bed still warm from where you’d left him.

He pulled the covers up around you, then slid in behind you, arm curling around your waist again.

You exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

And he didn’t say anything else.

Just pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and held you close.

──────────────────────

You woke up to the warmth of his chest against your back, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arm was still around you, hand resting lightly beneath your ribs.

You blinked at the soft light filtering through the curtains. 

It was still morning. 

Late, maybe.

Sunghoon was awake.

You knew it before he spoke. You felt it in the way his thumb was tracing slow, absent-minded shapes against your side. His lips brushed your shoulder.

“Good morning.” he said softly.

You swallowed. “Morning, Hoon.”

“You slept in today.”

You turned slowly onto your back, the sheets rustling as his arm shifted with you. He was looking at you. His hair was a mess, and you could see the stubble of his bear along his chin.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, voice small.

“Y/N.”

You bit your lip. “You skipped training.”

“I texted my coach,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he cut in gently. “I wanted to stay.”

You looked away, blinking fast.

“I wasn’t trying to hide things from you,” you whispered. “I just… I thought if I could at least pretend I was okay, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

His hand came up, warm and solid against your cheek, guiding your gaze back to his.

“I’m never disappointed in you,” he said quietly. “And I’d rather worry than be lied to.”

Your throat felt thick.

“I wanted to get that stupid sticker,” you mumbled.

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “But not eating enough to earn it doesn’t make you a failure. It just means we’re still figuring things out.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

After a long pause, he sighed through his nose. “Hey… remember I told you my friends were thinking of grabbing dinner tonight?”

You glanced at him, brows knitting together.

“You said I could come if I wanted to.”

“That’s still true. I know crowds aren’t always your favorite thing, but maybe having a few people around could… I don’t know. Make eating feel less like a thing for a night.”

You thought about it.

After a few seconds you nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s try that.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, warm and proud and relieved all at once.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “We’ll take it slow.”

And you believed him.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon saw you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you smiled at something Heeseung’s girlfriend said, your fingers fidgeting slightly beneath the table. The grill in the center hissed with grease and heat, smoke curling in slow spirals above the sizzling slices of pork belly. He sat beside you, tongs in one hand, quietly turning the meat, brushing it with marinade. Mark told him you used to love samgyopsal.  Now, he watched you hesitate before picking up a piece with your chopsticks. You chewed slowly, nodding as Jay’s girlfriend offered you some of her favorite dipping sauce. You thanked her softly. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. Sunghoon knew. He knew that you were feeling off a bit today.  Yesterday.  Probably the whole last week, since you told him you’d try to eat another 100 kcal more every day now. Since you failed to reach that goal every day for a week now. He hoped that being around people that you enjoyed hanging out with would make it easier. You’ve told him before that you really liked his friends and you ate almost an entire steak the last time when Jay, Jake and Heeseung were over.  But you were quiet tonight. Not withdrawn, just…watchful. You laughed here and there, made conversation, but you weren’t fully with them. He glanced across the table at his friends, who were animated and loud, clinking soju glasses and stacking lettuce wraps with an alarming amount of garlic. And then he looked to the left - at the two girls from his training crew who’d shown up last minute.

You hadn’t said much to them. You’d made the effort, Sunghoon had noticed that too, but he could see you pulling back. It was like the two of them were making everything worse. He just couldn’t understand why.  Sunghoon saw Wonie shift in her seat beside you, tucking her napkin onto her lap before leaning a little closer. "You’re in architecture, right?" she asked, her voice bright. "I think that’s so cool. You must be, like, crazy good at drawing." You smiled, he saw that, but it was that careful, polite kind you used when you were feeling awkward. The one you gave him when he just moved in. When you didn’t know how to answer. “Sometimes,” you said softly, and your fingers toyed with the rim of your glass.

Wonie laughed, unbothered. “Oh! The paintings in your apartment are clearly showing that you don’t just sometimes draw crazy good. They are so beautiful.” You nodded, still smiling, but Sunghoon could see how your shoulders had crept higher, your posture a little too stiff. You were trying so hard.  He wished so badly it would be easier for you.  Sunghoon made sure to keep your plate from going empty, not pushing too much meat, because he knew that was hard. But sweetened pickled radish. A few rice cakes. Rolled omelet. Tiny bites of manageable food, colorful and easy to chew. After a while you excused yourself to go to the restroom. When you got up, Wonyoung waited until you were out of earshot before turning to him and Heeseung, a crease forming between her brows. “Is she okay?” she asked, low enough that the others couldn’t hear. “I was trying to talk to her, but she seemed kinda… out of it.” Heeseung leaned back in his seat, mouth already full of pork belly, and shrugged slightly. “She’s probably just having a rough day. She’s not always super talkative, but she usually warms up. It’s not personal.”

He and Heesueng often talked about you. Sunghoon has told him how you were doing, kept him updated because Heeseung himself asked quite frequently how you were doing. He assumed it was because Heesung knew what it meant to love someone who was struggling. Sunghoon was aware that Heeseungs his friends' girlfriends has had a hard life as well and even if she didn’t let it shine through too often, Heeseung had told him that she was often struggling as well.  So he guessed Heeseung kinda knew what was going on with you tonight.  He knew Heeseung, even if he was getting giggly and drunk, would never tell a stranger about it though.   Wonie nodded, but glanced back toward the hallway. “She seems really sweet. Just... quiet.” Sunghoon didn’t say much. He just hummed, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. Because yeah. You were sweet. You were quiet. And that was okay.  When you came back to the table, Sunghoon’s eyes went to your face first, like they always did, and then, almost unconsciously, drifted down to your hands. Your knuckles looked normal. No redness. No telltale signs. But he still looked. Every time. He told himself he wasn’t being paranoid. Not really. Just… cautious. Just watching. Because he knew you. Knew how hard you tried, how strict you could be with yourself. He’d seen your calendar, the quiet pride on your face when you stuck a little dog sticker onto the square. But he also knew the days you didn’t. He knew that when you missed a sticker, sometimes it was just a few calories but sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was an entire skipped meal. Sometimes it was trying too hard. Always trying too hard. You’d raised your goal last week. He knew that too. And you were so strict about it, like one missed calorie was failure. Like one sticker not earned meant you'd let everyone down. Like he would be disappointed. As if that could ever be true. Sunghoon leaned forward and turned the grill down a little, just to give his hands something to do. He watched you nudge a piece of sweet pancake around your plate, like you were trying to convince yourself you wanted it. When you caught his eye, you gave him the smallest smile. A tired one. But real. He gave you one back and reached for your hand beneath the table, just brushing his fingers over your knuckles once. Soft. Gentle.

──────────────────────

When you got home, it was late and cold outside. The scent of grilled meat clinged to your hair, your clothing. You toed off your shoes in the hallway and padded into the kitchen without a word. Sunghoon followed a few minutes later after locking the door and flicking off the hallway light. The only glow now came from the small lamp you kept on the kitchen counter, casting a soft golden pool across the room. You stood in front of the calendar. He saw the way your shoulders dropped before you even spoke. “I can’t put a sticker up, Honnie,” you whispered. “Again." His chest tightened. He didn’t answer right away, just walked up slowly behind you until he could place a gentle hand on your back. You didn’t flinch, but your head dipped forward like the shame was heavy. “I tried. I really did. But it just… I couldn’t.”

He didn’t ask how much you missed it by. He already knew it didn’t matter to you, it would still feel like failure to you, no matter the number. So he spoke softly. “Do you want to lower the goal again? Just a bit?” You turned to face him slowly, your eyes glossy but dry. “I thought I could handle more,” you said. “I thought it’d make me better. I just wanted to be- I wanted you to be proud.” His heart cracked a little more at that. He stepped in, arms slipping around your waist, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. “I’m already proud of you,” he murmured into your hair. “Every single day.” You didn’t reply, just stood there in his arms, arms wound tight around his middle. And maybe he felt the tiniest tremble in your fingers when you finally clutched the fabric of his shirt. “Let’s change the goal tomorrow,” he whispered. “Not because you failed. But because we’re learning. Okay?” You nodded against him.

“Okay.”

──────────────────────

You stared at your phone in disbelief.  You had done it. You had eaten enough today. You could finally glue a sticker to your calendar again. 

You reached for the sticker sheet with slightly trembling fingers. Sunghoon bought another pack of dog stickers a few days ago. These ones were pale yellow puppies with pink cheeks. You peeled one off carefully and placed it onto the day’s square, softly pressing it down. A breath broke out of your chest, and you felt lighter. Then a laugh. Then, without thinking, you were calling Sunghoon. He picked up halfway through the fourth ring, a bit breathless, the shouting of his coach over someone's music locker muffled in the background. “Hey, Y/Nie—what’s up?” You sat down at the kitchen table, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “I did it,” you whispered. “I get a dog today.” There was a pause, half a beat, before he made a soft, stunned sound, full of joy. “You did?”

“I did.” “Wait – hold on,” he said, voice muffled as he must’ve turned to cover the receiver. Then clearer, “I’m so proud of you. Wait– wait, I have something, too.” Your smile grew impossibly wider. “What?” “I qualified,” he said. “For the invitational next spring. My coach just told me.” Your hand flew to your mouth. “No way.” “Yeah. I don’t know how that happened but it seems like my lucky streak is back!” You felt like bursting. You felt full. In the best way. You whispered, “We did so good today.” He chuckled, soft and low. “Yeah, we did.” As you hung up, a warm, calm feeling settled over you. You had decided to lower the calorie goal and that was okay. You had listened to Ten, to Johnny, to Mark and to Sunghoon.  They all told you it was okay to stagnate for a little while. Recovery wasn’t meant to be linear.

It was okay to take a step back. You weren’t giving up, you were just being kinder to yourself. You still had work to do, but you weren’t trying to run a marathon when you weren’t even sure how to walk yet.  Without thinking, you picked up your pen and reached for the calendar again. You drew two tiny stars next to the dog sticker. Then three more. Then a few sparkles in gold. One for him. One for you. One for both of you. You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling just a little bit. You stared at the stars, the gold dots gleaming in the soft kitchen light.  You had earned this.  It felt good to say that. When Sunghoon came home, he paused at the door, eyes falling on the calendar before he even took off his shoes. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You really did it?” he asked, his voice warm with a mixture of pride and affection. You nodded, suddenly feeling more confident than you had in a long time. “I did. And… I’m okay with it. I think I made the right choice by lowering the calorie goal.” His eyes softened as he walked closer, lifting his hand to brush his fingers through your hair and cradle your face. “I’m proud of you. I’m really proud of you.” Your heart swelled. You had no idea what you would’ve done without him, without this space where you could grow. And even though you didn’t have all the answers, you were beginning to understand that it was okay. Sunghoon smiled at the calendar again. “I think I might need to get you more dog stickers,” he teased, pulling you into a closer. You laughed softly. “You’re gonna spoil me,” you said, a playful glint in your eye. “I’m gonna spoil you because you deserve it,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making your chest warm, before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

──────────────────────

The wind was a little too chilly and you buried your face in Sunghoon's scarf.  It smelled so distinctly of him.  Of home.  You’ve just handed in your last model for this semester and were walking back home instead of taking the bus. It was a forty minute walk, but you enjoyed seeing something else than your apartment, the studio or the rink.  You found yourself walking aimlessly, when something caught your eye. An elegant, minimalist hair salon with a large glass window showcasing sleek, shiny haircuts and smooth blowouts. You paused. You had been thinking about cutting your hair for a while now. It was brittle and thin and you had it in a braid more times than not, since it was long enough to annoy you.  Maybe it was time for a change.

You walked up to the door, hesitated for a moment, then pushed it open. The salon was warm, and the air smelled faintly of floral-scented hair products. A stylist greeted you with a smile. "Hi, welcome! How can I help you today?" You smiled, trying to sound casual, even though your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. "Uh, I was wondering if you had any slots available today?" She checked her schedule, her fingers tapping lightly on the screen. "We do have one opening in an hour. Would that work for you?" You nodded eagerly. “Yes, perfect. I’ll be back then.” She handed you a quick form to fill out and you wandered out of the salon, mind buzzing. What were you even doing? You didn’t even have a clear idea of what kind of cut you wanted. You only knew that you needed to change something.  You strolled around the nearby shops, your thoughts running wild. You ended up spending most of the time in a arts and crafts store, trying out different new pens and materials and buying new stickers. Snowmen, since winter and christmas was right around the corner. You glanced at the time on your phone and hurried back to the salon. When you returned, the stylist was ready for you, and she smiled at you warmly as she led you to the chair.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, setting the cape around your shoulders. You took a deep breath and smiled shyly. “I’m not really sure what I want, but I think... I want to go shorter. Maybe above my shoulders? Something that will make my hair look fuller and give it some life?” She nodded thoughtfully. “Got it. I think going shorter will help with volume. Do you want layers, or just a clean chop?” You hesitated for a moment, then decided, “Layers sound good. Something soft, but not too much. I want it to feel light, not too heavy.” The stylist smiled and gave you a reassuring nod. “Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.” As she began cutting, you sank into the chair, your thoughts running quietly in the background. It felt good to take control of something for once, to make a change without worrying about the consequences By the time the cut was done, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled softly. It was shorter than you expected, but in a good way. It framed your face, the layers adding a bit of volume and movement. You ran your fingers through it.  When the stylist finished, she spun the chair around so you could get a full look. “How does that feel?” “Good,” you said, feeling a rush of confidence you hadn’t had in a while. “I think I love it.”

She smiled. “Great choice. It’s always refreshing to try something new.” You paid for the cut and thanked her profusely before heading back out into the city streets.  As you stepped out of the salon and walked back toward your apartment, your mind started to race. Would Sunghoon think it looks good? He had always liked your hair. Loved it, really.  He loves to run his fingers through it whenever he had the chance to. He always told you he loved how long and pretty it was.  It wasn’t long anymore. More of a bob, just above your shoulders, with soft layers framing your face. It was fresh, bouncy, and definitely gave off a different vibe. Would he think you were still... pretty? You chewed your bottom lip, glancing at your reflection in the windows as you passed by the shops. The bob looked great, but you were still unsure if it was exactly what he would expect or if he would even like it. But it’s not about what he expects, you reminded yourself. 

It’s about what you want.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon’s arms were overflowing as he fumbled his way through the door, balancing a grocery bag precariously in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. His key clattered noisily onto the side table as he shoved the door open with his hip, barely managing to keep the apples that were laying on the top from rolling out of the bag. "Hi Y/N! I am ho-" he stopped mid sentence. You were standing in the kitchen preparing dinner. And your hair— He blinked, stunned, trying to process what he was seeing. It was shorter. Soft waves curled just beneath your chin, brushing against your neck in a way that made his stomach flip violently. God, you looked so beautiful. Sunghoon didn’t even remember letting go of the bags, only registering the soft thump of them hitting the floor a second later.  All he could see was you.

All he could think about was you. Before he knew it, he was crossing the room in three big strides, almost tripping over himself in his rush to get to you. You turned around at the sound, eyes widening slightly at the sudden movement, and gave him the shyest, tiniest smile. Without thinking, Sunghoon cupped your face in his hands, his fingers immediately finding their way into the soft strands of your new haircut. It felt so different. Lighter. Softer. “Do you like it?” you asked, voice so small he almost missed it. “Like it?” he repeated, his voice hoarse. He huffed out a laugh, disbelieving, awestruck. “Baby, you look–” He didn’t even finish. Instead, he dipped his head down and kissed you, hard.

You let out a startled little squeak against his mouth, hands flailing for half a second before settling against his chest. His mouth slanted over yours desperately and a little clumsy, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough. His fingers slid into your soft, feather-light hair, brushing through the strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you to him. For a second he feared that overwhelmed you and that you wanted to stop kissing, that you wanted to pull away. You didn’t. In fact, you tilted your head up, chasing after him just as eagerly, your giggle bubbling against his mouth. He pulled back a fraction to breathe, but didn’t even make it a full second before diving back in, kissing you again. His hand slipped from your hair down to your waist, tugging you flush against him. He savored the way you melted against him, the way your fingers slipped up to tangle in the fabric of his hoodie. He could feel the way your heart raced against his chest, matching the frantic beat of his own. He should have stopped there.

He should have. But Sunghoon was completely, hopelessly addicted to you. He kissed you again, and again, and again. Each kiss grew deeper, a little more desperate. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way his hands slid down to your waist, couldn’t help the way his thumb traced the line of your jaw, memorizing every inch of you. You broke apart, gasping, and he caught a glimpse of your flushed cheeks and the wide, dazed smile you gave him.

“Sunghoon–” you started, laughing breathlessly. He cut you off with another kiss, just because he could. This time slower, more deliberate, his lips teasing at the corners of your mouth before fully capturing them again. His hands roamed, stroking your sides, feeling the way you trembled just slightly under his touch. You weren’t exactly passive either. Your hands slid up his chest, fists bunching in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. When he flicked his tongue lightly against your lower lip, testing, you gasped, the sound shooting straight through him like a live wire. He pulled back again, barely, resting his forehead against yours, panting a little. “God,” he muttered, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a kind of reverence. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” You smiled, all shy and giddy, still half in his arms. “I just got a haircut…” you whispered, almost like you couldn’t believe the reaction you were getting.

Sunghoon shook his head, pulling you impossibly closer. “It’s not just the haircut. It’s you. It’s always been you.” He laughed breathlessly, pressing another quick kiss to your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, until you were giggling uncontrollably and hiding your face in his chest. God. He loved you so much it hurt. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing you in, and mumbled, “I think dinner’s gonna have to wait a little longer.” You only laughed harder, and Sunghoon smiled so wide it made his cheeks ache. He held you there for a moment, your heart beating against his, his hands stroking gently through your freshly cut hair before you pulled back, looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. His mouth moved against yours with slow, heady urgency, coaxing little gasps from you that made him grin against your lips. You shifted, standing on your toes to kiss him back harder, and he groaned quietly in approval, his fingers flexing where they held you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sunghoon knew he should slow down, but it was so hard when you were right here in your shared kitchen, wrapped around him. He kissed you until both of you were dizzy, until your giggles had melted into soft whimpers against his lips. And even then, he only pulled away reluctantly, trailing kisses along your jaw, your temple, savoring every second, every inch of you. When he finally leaned back enough to look at you, your cheeks were flushed, your lips kiss-swollen, and your eyes shining up at him like he hung the stars. You both just stood there, breathing each other in, hearts racing, faces so close he could feel your every exhale. “I guess… you like the haircut?” you teased softly, breathless. Sunghoon laughed, low and breathy, his thumb brushing the edge of your smile. “Like doesn’t even cover it, baby.” He kissed you again, gentler now. “You’re perfect,” he whispered into your skin. “You’re so perfect it’s actually unfair.” And when you hid your face in his chest, giggling and overwhelmed, Sunghoon just held you tighter, knowing in his bones that he never wanted to let you go. Not now. Not ever.

──────────────────────

The jewelry store was quiet except for the soft hum of the lights above and the occasional muted conversation between staff and customers. Sunghoon stood at the counter, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, his heart hammering against his ribs. In front of him, under the glass, sat dozens of glittering rings, each one more beautiful than the last. And somehow, none of them felt good enough. “She’s gonna love whatever you pick, you know that, right?” Heeseung’s voice cut through his swirling thoughts. Sunghoon looked over at him, managing a weak laugh. “Yeah. I know. I’m just-” He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I want it to be perfect.” Heeseung leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a little half-smile. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, nudging Sunghoon lightly with his elbow. “You’ve been together forever. She’s already picked you, dumbass. She would probably marry you in a paper ring.” Sunghoon huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was right. You probably would. Heeseung tilted his head, that familiar glint in his eye. “Remember what I told you? Way back when? If you played your cards right, those monkey stickers would stay forever?” He grinned. “Guess what, bro? You played ‘em right. Your little monkey’s still around.” Sunghoon’s chest tightened at the nickname. You didn’t need the sticker charts anymore, not for years now. But somehow Heeseung still teasingly called you ‘monkey,’. Sunghoon still has that calender with the many different stickers in a little box in his closet. He took it out from time to time. Years had passed, but in Sunghoon’s mind, it felt like time had both flown by and stood still all at once. He was no longer just the aspiring skater, chasing a dream. He had made it. His name was known in the skating world now. He had won the olympics, not once but twice. And through it all, you had been there. Sunghoon smiled down at the glass, a lump growing in his throat. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She’s still here.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His mind drifted back to those small moments he spend with you. Those quiet nights on the sofa, wathcing silly dramas, talking, sleeping together, first in your small shared student apartment, then one in Busan, and now the one in your apartment near the olympia park. He had seen you blossom–recovering, becoming the strong, beautiful woman you were today. He cleared his throat and glanced over at Heeseung. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything back then.”

Heeseung shrugged, but there was warmth in his eyes. “You don’t have to. Just watching the two of you… that’s enough, man.” He nodded at the rings. “You’ve both earned this. All of it. It’s about time you made her your forever. Now hurry up and pick one so you can make it official already. Before I start crying or something, and then we’ll both be embarrassed.” Sunghoon laughed, and leaned closer to the glass, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge. One particular ring caught his eye. Simple. Elegant. Not flashy, but quietly beautiful. Just like you. He pointed at it. “That one.” His voice was firm, certain. “That’s the one.”

Heeseung whistled low under his breath. “Oh it's pretty. Monkey’s gonna lose her mind.” Sunghoon grinned. He could already imagine it, your hands trembling as he slipped the ring onto your finger, your watery smile, the way you’d throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. He could picture every second of it. “She’s my everything,” Sunghoon said quietly, almost to himself. Heeseung clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re hers. Always have been.” This was it. The start of your forever. A forever he had fought for, that you both had earned with every smile, every late-night talk, every sticker on that old calendar.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @firstclassjaylee @enhaprettystars @vantxx95 @stormy1408 @fancypeacepersona @jaylvrsworld @xylatox @bluxjun @sumzysworld @outroherrr @50-husbands @ikeumina @softchannie @sirens-dreams @schmocolateschmchip @vviolynn @nishiimuraka @enhalxvr @ijustreallylike2read @enhastolemyheart @wintereals @planetmarlowe @baeeeeah @wonzzziezzzz @mochamvgz @lovtaesunu @makeme1cream @stars4jo @vviolynn @lylaloopsie @meimeiyh @motherscrustytoenailclippings @haerni @sooberriesx @nishiimuraka (did this actually work? Somehow I can’t use any of the links from the tags?)

ᝰ an. Its done. 87.583 words later. I am so happy with how this turned out. I also did infact not sleep or do my uni stuff for the last week, because I so desperately wanted to finish this and see what my brain would be coimng up with. The quality probably suffered a bit under my sleep deprived brain working on this... I actually forgot to write a few scenes I planned to include, but I'll probably release them as one shots at one point. Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story and waiting for the final parts. It has been a long ride. ₊ ⊹  

[yonypj]

LUX IMPERATOR X READER

SFW!

The night is cold, cold as hell as you hug the coat you are wearing, even the old thin and worn coat protecting you from getting colder and you can feel the wind blowing on your skin.

You continue walking down the empty and dark street, the streetlights illuminating the path you have in mind, the old and abandoned cinema, the huge and bright sign of the Palazzo Movie Theater and seen in the distance, looking at one of the main entrance doors you see several flowers with notes, each one for the 15 missing people who once visited this place with joy, you start to feel bad when you look at the flowers, your conscience weighs more and more, invading a place of a possible murder crime seems to be disrespectful.

In fact, you are only there for this reason, because it is abandoned and untouched, the film reels abandoned without functionality inside now that it is abandoned can be worth some money! It is indeed disrespectful but you cannot let the opportunity pass you by, getting some money with it will help you at least buy a plate of food or a cheap hotel room!

You sigh, feeling more motivated and less guilty for wanting to rob the place where there were victims, feeling less worse about yourself for being a terrible human being, the place in front of you only confirms the desperation you have to get money.

Finally managed to enter the screening room, the place dirty with dust and forgotten by time, crusts of dirt stain the red carpet only confirming that the place has not been taken care of for a long time, relaxing your muscles for fear of finding a guard since the lights are on, you walk further while inspecting the place for something valuable, walking through the space and trying to hear any sign of noise so as not to be caught. As you start to climb the stairs of the rows of chairs the lights go out, the light of a spotlight turns on and directs itself to the middle of the stage, your heart feels like it will have a heart attack as your gaze follows the light.

Something so unreal emerges from the stage curtains, smiling and starting to sing a theme song while doing a dance, your brain can't reason as you look at this thing, a cartoon, dancing and singing outside a movie screen. You blink once, twice, three times and even five times to make sure you're not hallucinating, the strange being stops and puts his hands on his waist "Oh let's see what we have here, an unexpected visitor" he says while smiling, his eyes in different directions from each other, it would be funny if it weren't scary to see something like that, "To what do I owe the honor of such a lovely visit, Sweet Pea?".

"....how?" That's all that comes out of your mouth, looking at the being before you, you just stand there looking at him "I hit my head, it can only be" the only logical conclusion you think as you see him smile even more at your confusion, "oh no no, I can tell, I'm as real as you are" he says holding the edges of his jacket, striking a pose to show himself more while giving short turns from side to side.

"That's...impossible, you're here! Like, a cartoon!" Frowning you frown at him which makes him just hum in amusement "Don't make me laugh! Honey, you look like you're seeing a ghost" he says, jumping off the stage as he approaches, climbing the stairs... with some difficulty but when he gets close to you a step away he looks like a trident "and while what does a place like this do hmmm?", you feel him poke your arm, feel the heat that he emanates in a strange way.

You pull away almost immediately, still feeling your heart almost jump out of your throat, the whole experience being too scary to bear, let alone bear something like that near you. "I... I like exploring decaying places... and... knowing what they're like inside." Your voice comes out trembling, almost like a quiet whisper. You hear your heart beating so fast in your ear that you swear it hurts.

The being before you seems to believe it enough, smiling happily as he clasps his hands together, humming in affirmation as he begins to speak excitedly. "Oh, I see, a curious and exploratory person. Did you know that curiosity killed the cat? You'd better be more careful when entering desolate places" he says, in false concern but calming your nerves for having believed it. "But it's a good thing I'm here then! I can guide you through this old cinema if that will satisfy your explorer's desire!" Before any protest or excuse to leave, he grabs your arm and drags you up, even though he's so short, he manages to have enough strength to make you trip over your own feet.

Maybe you can't refuse a free tour of this old cinema, you hope to at least get out of here soon...

So, I just posted this for fun, it might be boring or have English mistakes since it's not my native language but I hope you like it! [I'm not good at writing, my area is drawings!]

[bingbongsupremacy]

The Protector

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

Warning: Implications of Human Trafficing, Talks of Murders, Creepy Man, Cursing, Violence

Summary: You're walking home late at night when a drunk stranger approaches, clearly with bad intentions. Thankfully, a stranger steps in to help you.

This doesn't really follow the movies or shows.

*Not Proof Read*

My mom always told me to be careful at night. The darkness emboldens people in a way they wouldn't dare to normally behave. It unleashes the darker parts of their personality, giving them a sense of confidence that they won't be caught.

It's happened before. It'll happen again. I've heard stories of girls in my neighborhood getting snatched in the middle of the night. Some return home -although never the same as they were before. Some are never found or are found dead. I've heard the gunshots that ring through the deathly silent streets. Later on the news, my suspicions are confirmed. Someone was murdered once again.

My neighborhood is rough. But I have no choice but to stay here until I can save up enough to leave.

I was supposed to be home hours ago. I try to leave work before the sun goes down. That wasn't possible today, and unfortunately for me, the buses stop shortly after sundown.

My boss kept me late filing paperwork and filling out forms. Something that should've taken me a few hours ended up taking me the entire day due to his negligence and irresponsibility. He figured that I wouldn't mind receiving months' worth of work a day before it's all due to be checked. I did.

Maybe he just didn't care.

Either way, because of him, I've been forced to spend that last half hour walking through the dark streets of the city towards my home.

If I could, I'd call a cab. I barely have enough money to cover rent this month. I have to tough it out.

The street lights send a faded glow onto the dark streets. My steps clack softly against the cracked cement, echoing slightly through the rows of apartments and worn down homes. Most of the buildings are completely dark. No one is out. No one is awake.

I tighten my grip on my bag as I continue down the street. Cold, bitter air nips at my face and the exposed skin on my hands. My coat only holds in so much heat. My body is cold and tense.

Trees and large bushes cast ominous shadows across the sidewalks up ahead. Worries flood my mind about possible things hiding in the shadows, waiting to attack me.

I push through my fears and force myself to continue forward.

It's eerily quiet outside, save for the occasional dog that will bark as I pass their house.

I finally make it onto my street. Like all of the other streets, everyone's inside and asleep. I

I let a small sigh of relief and I feel my shoulders relax slightly. My peace is short lived.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement on one of the porches. The home belongs to one of the many local drug dealers. All sorts of different people crash at his house at all hours of the night. It's not unusual to see someone on his porch.

I just wish there hadn't been anyone over tonight.

I pick up my speed, hoping the person will stay on the porch.

Unfortunately, they don't. A rough hand grips my wrist, spinning me back in the direction of the person.

A tall man stares at me, his eyes glassy and filled with a wicked glint. His smile is wide and unnerving. He's dressed in messy, torn-up clothes. Stains, I think may be blood, are splattered around his collar and under his nose like he's recently been in a fight. The smell of booze spills out of his pores, flooding my nostrils. His grip is firm and slightly painful.

"Hey baby, whatcha doin' out here?" He asks, his voice slurred. His eyes scan over my body, staying a few seconds longer on my chest than anything else.

My spine shivers at the leering man. My stomach twists and turns in fear. I'm frozen in fear, unsure what to do. He's stronger than me. He'll overpower me. If I scream, I doubt anyone would come. They know this neighborhood. They know what happens after dark.

I'm on my own.

"Please let me go." I try to say it confidently. My voice slightly waivers.

The man clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "Baby, you don't need to be scared."

I want to vomit at the nickname.

"You and I can have a lot of fun, you know that? Go back to my place...see where the night takes us." Once again, his eyes settle on my chest as he finishes his words.

"I said, please let me go." I say in a more stern tone. "I don't want to go anywhere with you."

The man's eyes narrow and snap up to me. Anger fills his gaze. His grip on my wrist tightens, and he twists it tightly, sending pain flooding through my hand.

I let out a yelp and try to pull back.

The man doesn't let go. "Listen, Bitch. It wasn't a real question. You're coming with me whether you'd like to or not." He spits.

"Please stop! You're hurting me!" My chest pounds louder. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

The man lets out a sinister chuckle. "Good." He's about to say something else when, all of a sudden, a large hand roughly grabs his hand and pries his fingers off my wrist.

Loud pops echo through the air as the man's fingers are pulled into an unnatural position. The man lets out a scream in agony at the sight and feeling of his fingers being broken.

My eyes widen, and I gasp, stumbling backwards. I take in the sight in front of me. The man who helped me is dressed in all black clothing, the only thing showing being some skin above his face mask and his muscular metal arm. His hair is dark brown and long, blowing slightly in the cold breeze. His angry eyes are pointed at the man in front of him. He grabs the other man by the collar, punching him in the face. Then he drops my offender on the ground, puffing his chest out to intimidate him.

The other man cowers, holding his damaged hand to his chest. He spits out a string of curses, begging my protector to stop. He scoots back as fast as he can, almost falling over from not being able to use one of his hands.

My protector takes a slow and intimidating step towards the cowering man, daring him to speak again. He follows the cowering man, pushing him backwards until his back is pressed against a spikey bush.

The cowering man is whimpering, begging for mercy. My protector leans down until he's at eye level with the cowering man.

The cowering man refuses to meet his gaze, his sobs loud and fearful.

"Touch her again, and I will find you. I will kill you." His words are stronger than a threat. They're a promise. This man is not fucking around.

Something about this man tells me he'll have no problem following through with his word. He won't struggle to find where this man lives.

My attacker nods furiously, his face red from his crying. "I won't! I promise."

My protector grabs the man by his collar once again, eliciting a yelp from the other man. "Leave." He tosses the man towards the sidewalk leading away from us.

The other man stumbles forward, quickly catching his balance and running off away from us. He clutches his hand against his chest, his cries dying down the further he gets.

My protector watches as the other man runs away, making sure he's fully gone before finally turning to me.

I stare at the man, shocked and horrified at what I just witnessed. My heart pounds, fear climbing up my throat once again. I tightly grip my bag once again like it's somehow going to protect me. "I-I...Thank you." I finally say, trying to shake off my nerves.

The man gives me a curt nod, glancing down at my bruising wrist that's covered by my jacket.

For a moment, all the chaos distracted me from my injury. His gaze brought the sore feeling back.

I lift up the sleeve of my jacket slightly to reveal a forming blackish blue bruise.

"Go home. Take care of it." The man's voice is monotone, exactly the way it had been when he was talking to my attacker. His gaze shifts from my wrist to my face. He's watching me.

"O-Okay." I nod in agreement, pulling my sleeve down. "What..." Should I ask him? I decide to do it. "What's your name?"

The man doesn't respond. He just continues to watch me.

Feeling nervous and not wanting to push the dangerous individual, I decide to thank him one last time. "Thanks again. I...I don't know what I would've done without you." I say sincerely. "Is there anyway I can repay you?" I offer.

"I don't need repayment. Just get home. It's not safe out here." The man states.

"I'll go then," I say, not wanting to argue. I turn around and begin walking down the street towards my apartment. When I get to my building, I turn to look back in the direction of the man who saved me.

He's unmoved. His eyes connect with mine. He was watching to make sure I got here okay.

I give him a small, nervous wave and smile before stepping into my building and closing the door. I peek out of the window in the door, trying to catch a glimpse of the man again.

But he's gone. Within seconds, he vanished into the night.

Who is he?

------ Years Later -------

After that night, I began training so I could protect myself in case something like that ever happened again. I never saw the man again. But I'll never forget how he saved me.

My training paid off. It unlocked a harshness in me I didn't know I had. I began to box. It started out legal, but eventually turned into underground paid events. I took my opponents out quickly and painfully. It paid well. It made me strong.

Eventually, my interests took a turn. My neighborhood was getting worse. I needed to protect myself.

I started to learn how to use weapons-it started out for protection. It evolved into me becoming a hitman. It all happened so quickly. It was a blur of my normal life turning into violence. Eventually, my skills were sought after by SHIELD, something I never thought would happen.

I was recruited to become an Avenger. Everything was fine until Tony and Steve started fighting, and we were forced to pick sides.

The day Steve found Bucky and brought him back was the day I realized he was the man who saved me. It brought so many unanswered questions back into my mind.

Why did he save me? Why was he in the neighborhood? Had he been stalking me?

As soon as Bucky came too and Steve asked which Bucky he was, I got my answers.

Bucky's eyes land on me. A glimmer of recognition flashes through his eyes. "You're the girl."

I don't need further explanation to know he's talking about me. "I am," I cross my arms and walk closer to him. "You're The Winter Soldier."

He doesn't say anything.

"Why did you save me? That night with the man. You didn't need to. Why?" I ask, my eyes steadily holding his gaze.

Bucky's brows draw together like he's trying to remember.

"Why were you there?" I try not to make my questions sound like an interrogation.

"I was there on a mission," Bucky responds, his gaze torn away from mine. He looks at the ground, still trying to remember. "I was sent to kill a dealer in the neighborhood. Someone who knew too much. I saw you walking through the dark. The man grabbed you, and I saw your face. Your fear. I remembered...I remembered a woman I'd helped protect in the past...In the 40s before I went to war. I felt pulled to help. So I did."

His instincts overpowered his training.

"Thank you." I let out a slightly shaky breath. "I don't know what would've happened to me without you. You helped me get here today."

His eyes turn to look up at me.

"I owe you. And I will pay it back." I promise.

"You don't have to." He says quietly.

"I do and I will. I'll help you the way you helped me." I insist.

It's my turn to stand up for him. I won't let Tony get his hands on him.

That's a promise I'll fulfill.

[star1ight0]

Shota Aizawa x Reader

"Importance"

Quirk: hyper-empath

Quirk: Hyper-Empath

Requests are open!

Growing up, you were always told you'd be better off behind a desk — maybe as a medical assistant, maybe behind a computer. Something "safe." Something "useful." People said your quirk made you too sensitive, too soft for the field.

But you didn't want to be safe. You wanted to fight.

So the second you got accepted into hero school, you clung to that opportunity with everything you had. You trained harder than anyone else — not because you were the strongest, but because you had to be. You hated your quirk. You hated being aware of everyone's emotions — the tension, the grief, the terror. And worst of all, the pain. Every drop of agony they felt, you felt too. It was overwhelming, all-consuming.

A curse, not a gift.

Still, you fought. You learned to hold your own. You became a pro hero — one with a reputation for compassion and precision in the field. You learned to ground yourself, but it never got easier.

Tonight, you and Aizawa had been on patrol — separate routes, same shift. When the patrol was quiet, you'd text. Just little things.

“You find anything?”

“Nothing worth losing sleep over. You?”

“Still quiet. Weirdly quiet.”

But the quiet didn’t last.

The alert came in like a shockwave: multiple civilian casualties, villain attack, mass destruction. You were the closest. You responded first.

And you felt it.

Every scream. Every cry. The agony. The panic. The fear. It hit you like a tidal wave, nearly knocked you to your knees. But you didn’t stop. You couldn't stop.

By the time backup arrived — by the time he arrived — you were already in the thick of it. Covered in smoke and blood and grief. You were helping children out of rubble, hands trembling, barely able to breathe through the emotional overload that pressed on your lungs like a vice.

Aizawa found you kneeling beside a collapsed building, cradling a girl with a shattered leg and a face soaked in tears. Your eyes were glazed, distant — the way they always got when the emotions of others overwhelmed your own. You weren’t bleeding, but you looked broken.

He crouched beside you silently, placing a steady hand on your back.

"I'm here," he said, low and even.

You flinched.

“Shota…” you whispered. “It hurts.”

“I know.”

“I can’t— I can’t make it stop. I can’t turn it off.”

“I know.”

His voice was calm, a tether anchoring you to the ground. Slowly, steadily, the panic started to recede. Not because it wasn’t there — but because he was.

Once the girl was taken by the medics, you let yourself sink back against the wall, finally trembling. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t scold you for pushing yourself too hard. He just sat next to you, shoulder brushing yours.

“I hate this quirk,” you whispered.

“I don’t,” he said.

You blinked at him, startled.

“You feel what people can’t say out loud. You feel what they bury. That’s rare. It’s powerful.” His eyes met yours — tired, but steady. “You don’t realize how much you matter.”

Your breath hitched.

You weren’t used to hearing that. You weren’t used to being seen.

“I feel like I’m drowning,” you admitted.

He used his quirk to cancel out yours.

You didn’t speak again. You didn’t need to. He stayed by your side, his presence a calm pulse that steadied your wild heart.

In a world full of noise, Shota Aizawa never asked you to be quiet — only to stay.

And for the first time in a long time, you believed you could.

[semiweirdshipper]

@freak-with-opinion, @idreamtofmanderleyagain, @jhinshire, @wafflepuff, @barebonevulture, @electrical-date, @ellastellacocola, @pinnedandneedled, @letters-of-the-experience, @meatcrimes, @breadboyye, @taffyistheonlyescape, @marcykinsmaki, @swaggycatty69, @rentaldarling, and every single one of my friends and followers. Thank you.

I just logged into this account for the first time since I made my last post, and I was surprised by all the kind messages you've all left me. If I could scoop you all into my arms and hug you tightly, I would. You loves truly make me feel valued, appreciated and loved. It's still rough for me right now. I'm still afraid to update or post anything- hence why I haven't logged on here in so long. I fully expected a butt-load of hate messages, but was shocked to see nothing but kind words from my beloved dear hearts/you.

I have a bunch of messages to reply to, and it might take me a while to respond to everyone, but please know that I did get your messages. I read every single one and I took them to heart. You've helped heal and motivate me. I'm still in a fragile state right now, but I did find some passion recently so I'm gonna try to get one of my stories updated either today or tomorrow, and... I'm gonna allow comments just to try and see if the bullying is over. If it's not, then... Give them hell for me.

I really do have the greatest friends and followers. I'm very lucky to have each and every single one of you. If you weren't tagged above, I still love you just as much and I'll gladly tag you if you'd like me to. Just gotta leave a note or ask. It'd be an honor to see this list grow ❤️

I'll allow asks and replies, but I probably won't make many posts here on Tumblr. It's already taking all my mental energy to do what I'm doing now. I've kind of been through a lot in the past month. I'm transferring jobs. Four of my customers are in jail for hospitalizing a drunk guy who began attacking me at work. And I faced one of my biggest fears... Seagulls (yes, seagulls terrify me)... So, yeah! Crazy month it's been, aye? Please don't respond to this part. I normally try not to overshare, but, not gonna lie, the incident with my customers made me feel like I was in one of my stories and it... Didn't feel too great. It was really scary, and I feel like everything is my fault. Oi...

I'm updating the story that always makes me feel better. I'm sorry if it disappoints you any. And I'm sorry for the roller-coaster of emotions I'm projecting onto you. You really don't deserve it. But I really want you to know that I'm unbelievably grateful for your support, love, motivation and acceptance. Thank you. Thank you all so much.

[minzart]

I think Optimus deserves to be the little shit once in a while

You know the comedy of fics were starscream is the one thinking "to anoy Megatron I, starscream, will seduce the leader of the autobots, his ex, gaining the upper hand in both factions and finaly controling the decepticons!"

Uno reverse it

Optimus Prime is going to take one long look at the decepticons talking amongst each other and goes "what if... instead of attacking them physically, I attack mentally" and his brilliant idea is to ignore Megatron completely(noticed by the first second he does this) and focus on Starscream(taking up to 3 battles to a whole month to go noticed)

And Starscream is so confused, absolutely at loss, bc he isn't just fighting, oh no, If pressed for an answer mid battle Optimus has another great idea, let him be mischievous once in a while, it's good for the spark, "You have been practicing Starscream, it has come to my attention and now you apear to be the most treatening of the decepticons, my role is to stall the one who has that tittle.... and besides, it's nice to have a better view in battle for a change ;) " and staracream just freezes "whatdoyoufraggingmean"

He is an opportunistic at heart, he'll come around to try and take control of the situation, attack when helped, try to follow the bot, but it's too late bc who started this was Optimus and he is having a bit too much fun seeing Megatron pop a valve and Stars reaction may be the most genuine he has ever seen the seeker emote outside of fear and hate

Of course from a comedy bit it becomes real and now Optimus has to deal with it, Starscream is still in denial-land but having the time of his life with Megatron not admitting, but clearly showing sighs that this little thing they have going on is affecting him personally

And then the reveal comes and Star goes "WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TOLD ME IT WAS TO ANOYING THAT FRAGGING BUCKET IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASIER, I WOULD HAVE PLAYED ALONG IMEDIATLY DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO GET UNDER HIS SKIN THOSE DAYS???" and now that he has 1) confirmations feels and 2) a free ticket to anoy Megatron, he will absolutely double down

Optimus might have started this as smooth and subtle, Starscream is going to go PUBICALY BABY, He will flirt in every single language he knows, he will openly look at that ass mid battle, and if ending it peacefully enough snatches a kiss, to the pit if Megatron loses his mind and beats him, that's nothing new, at least now he can shove up his ass that he is fragging(not yet but he is already planing and it's not like the warlord knows what goes on really between the two) Optimus motherfucking prime

[bunnysdollette]

🍮 dealing with insecurities and agoraphobia | DOLLETTE DIARIES 01 ⋆˙⟡♡ (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) 🍰

── .✦ just keeping it a buck cause no one’s life is pink glitter and sparkles all the time. my new series on healing trauma and mental wellness

₊˚ෆ MY EXPERIENCE

like many people my insecurities have been a large part of my life. the sad part is there are few known photos of me, I avoid being put on the spot by others, and I HATE talking about my physical appearance.

it’s only now that I’ve realized this fear actually isn’t just some normal teenage insecurity, but it’s a serious case of agoraphobia. when thinking about being in public and doing things like eating, speaking to others, etc. it would induce this extreme suffocating fear of being perceived and judged. leaving my home is still such a challenge for me and I suffer from panic attacks just looking in the mirror, or hearing comments about my face from others. if anyone else can relate, just know that you aren’t alone. agoraphobia is literally the worst thing to deal with in a world where everyone seems perfect, but just know that there’s NOTHING wrong with you.

₊˚ෆ HOW IM HEALING

exposure therapy - I’ve been trying to expose myself slowly to different settings to work on my social anxiety. For example, I’ve never bought something from a store by myself before because I was so terrified of embarrassing myself it almost made me throw up, but I did so the first time last weekend.

count to ten - I would say things to myself like “when I reach 10, I’ll do this.” it actually works for me personally because it induces this small amount of panic when I reach 10 to bolt up and do whatever I set my intention on.

Be more conscious when it comes to social media - no one is perfect. I would block accounts that I would frequently obsess/compare myself to and try to take breaks when social media became a negative influence on me. It’s very easy to get caught up in this pool of inadequacy and never feeling good enough bc of social media, but you have to remind yourself it isn’t real.

sound therapy - helps during panic attacks or times im on the brink of tears. meditation with high frequency or just some calm music can be a powerful tool to calm the nervous system.

your body deserves to feel safe. you’re human, you aren’t a perfect robot. your flaws are what make you unique and amazing. be proud of who you are because the chance of you being born is 1 in millions 💫

[otnesse]

That is a valid point regarding the bit about Serena's Master Class loss, and would definitely give some understandable reasons for her later actions beyond the whole "shadow" bit. And I've also made it repeatedly clear that the whole snowball thing was NOTHING compared to what happened in the ending of Chapter 17 of Love Hina with the scans to prove it (which if you ask me was not only WAY worse, but unlike Serena, I don't think Naru was EVER treated in the wrong despite blatantly being a jerk there even by her usual standards. If anything, Keitaru was treated in the wrong there.). And I won't just defend Serena regarding that bit, I'll even defend Misty as well regarding two similar scenarios (Episode 5, and the aftermath of Ash's loss against Ritchie).

The only Pokegirls I genuinely hated was May and to a lesser degree Dawn, as I felt her character arc was just badly done ultimately (and it didn't help that she reminded me WAY too much of the girls from Love Hina and Princess vs. Princess. Dawn, while an improvement in some respects, was ultimately as bad as May.). Iris I liked largely because of her similarities to Misty. Serena I'm explicitly neutral towards (heck, if anything, I'm more likely to say that her arc was a little bit better written than May's, right down to the ACTUAL reason she left for her journey [not entailing Ash, BTW]. Oh, and as a side note, part of the reason I disliked May was in fact related to what you mentioned about your initial views on Lillie, though at least Lillie had an ACTUAL understandable reason for disliking Pokemon initially unlike May, not to mention did NOT become a trainer until AFTER she came to terms with and conquered that fear.). And Lillie was a definite improvement regarding overall arc compared to May. Don't get me started on my OTP, Misty.

And just as an FYI, I don't even blame Serena for the crap that was being piled disrespectfully onto Misty. If anything, I blame May (especially people like Cybercubed. And Pepsi-al ought to know since he blocked him). That has been going on since I think 2004.

And yeah, I can back up that claim about how people attack Serena for slapping Ash's hand. A guy by the name of Sonic-Kun on Pokecommunity repeatedly shilled for Serena and repeatedly bashed Misty to oblivion, made clear on no uncertain terms that he hated her purely for "abusing" Ash. I got sick and tired of it, and I pointed out a gif of Serena slapping Ash on his hand before trying to tell him to stop bashing Misty. All that did was have him bash Serena with the same energy as Misty, and I eventually had to call HIM out on his "one strike" rule and pointed out that if that were the case, he should have hated Ash for similar stuff long ago.

And now, for another piece of Serena glazing brought to you by an entitled fan from the vocal minority.

Going over this so you don't have to.

The first point he tries to make is that the XY anime in an attempt to prove that the XY anime is "the most popular Pokémon Anime series", using an IMDB rating of it to back it up with, even though the rating in question is, like, taken from about 617 people. Not even a drop in the bucket compared to the amount of viewers the XY anime ended with, let alone started out with. Which should pretty much tell anyone that the people who are giving such praise to the XY anime are not even part of the target audience. Especially since Yo-Kai Watch has been outright beating the XY anime in the ratings throughout the latter's run.

He credits Serena to being part of the success that the XY anime had. Even though the only place where it found "success" was among the periphery online fandom. Meanwhile what her portrayal and "AmourShipping" actually did contribute to in regards to the XY anime is the alienation of the target audience. With the target audience themselves going on record to say that they weren't vibing with what "AmourShipping" was giving them. And in regards to those not among the target audience but didn't vibe with "AmourShipping" nonetheless, they knew that "AmourShipping" wasn't going to go anywhere.

He thinks that Serena "brought new things to the table", all the while already singing Serena's praises, calling her "the best PokéGirl of all time", as well as one of the best characters in the entire franchise. Pretty much blatantly ignoring what was already on the table before Serena even arrived.

He outright thinks that every female companion of Ash's after Misty but prior to Serena is somehow "a copy of Misty". Yeah, sure. Let's just ignore everything else that sets Ash's female companions besides Serena apart from each other, and just boil down their behavior to "Misty-esque". Granted, he does state that they have defining characteristics, such as May becoming a "Performer". (Uhh, dude? Coordinator, while similar, doesn't equal Performer.) But he seems to think they all have the same kind of personality Misty has, which couldn't be any further from the truth.

The attention he calls to in regards to Ash's female companions before Serena being "sassy" and "a jerk to Ash" pretty much shows his entire thought process into making this video. And why he was so reductive towards May, Dawn, and Iris. He's basically telling people here that he projects himself onto Ash, and that he doesn't think that Ash should have to put up with someone who, understandably, calls Ash out on his stupidity on a regular basis. (And in doing so, pretty much missing the point of Ash's character.) Also, was anyone that wasn't a part of the hardcore AniPoké fandom seriously getting tired of a girl being around to call Ash out on his faults? Does this guy genuinely believe that? Last I checked, before the time of the XY anime, they were getting tired of Ash, not his female companions in anything apart from getting sidelined in favor of Ash.

Actually, nobody apart from the periphery demographic actually "fell immediately in love with Serena". And those who did immediately fall in love with her didn't do so because of her personality. It was because of her crush on Ash, and because of marketing. Her actual personality is nothing to sneeze at, and is pretty much not only nothing like her source material counterpart, but also pretty much what you would expect from a character with no depth to her personality beyond "I'm girly because I'm a girl". Also, "kind" and "caring" literally describe ALL of Ash's female companions. Whereas "independent" describes ALL of Ash's female companions EXCEPT Serena. "Kind to everyone" and "not afraid to express how she was feeling" isn't unique to her. (The latter is definitely one of the reasons why Misty is popular. And Serena definitely seemed afraid to express how she's feeling around Ash.) And she's definitely nowhere near the first to be friendly towards everyone and ready to extend a helping hand whenever anyone is in trouble. (Again. That's literally a reason why Misty is popular to begin with.) Not to mention, Serena wasn't bratty? This dude never saw how Serena feels about her mother. And again with the "not a jerk to Ash" bit. Heck, he even brings up when she cares for Ash when he's sick as though it hadn't been done before, when it has by Misty. It's like he doesn't actually give a crap about Serena's actual character, is more interested in the fact that the showrunners made her only purpose on the show to be to make Ash look good, and is only gassing her up both to make her look better than she is, and because he feels like she's the perfect character to make Ash look good; pretty much a regular pastime for guys like him at this point. It also shows a double standard in regards to his thought process. If the female traveling companion of Ash is her own character and made out to be his equal, then anything she does, even if beneficial for Ash, is automatically bad. But if that female traveling companion is instead made specifically to make Ash look good, as though as she were a typical female character in a Shounen anime, then anything that she does, even if it harms Ash in any way, is automatically good.

Also, if things did end up changing for the better in regards to Ash's female companions, they did so in spite of Serena, not because of her. Mallow, Lana, and Lillie, were all pretty much close representations of if not direct translations of their source material counterparts. Chloe, an AniPoké OC, is pretty much the only one that comes after AniPoké Serena who is the most similar to her in terms of characterization. But, despite her doing the similarities she has with Serena better than Serena did, the reaction the periphery demographic actually has towards her (read: Chloe is disliked by the periphery audience for being "too boring", "aimless", "decided upon a goal that defeated the purpose of her character", etc.) only succeeds in showcasing said demographic's hypocrisy towards her.

WRT the unnecessary shade towards Misty's direction, saying that she would not have cared, and that she would have thrown Ash "in the deep end", this literally reinforces what I'm saying about Serena fans thinking that whatever a female traveling companion of Ash's does to Ash in their eyes is automatically bad if she's made out to be his equal and dares to be her own character. Because that's not what Misty would do at all. He completely doesn't understand her character. She would have and has helped Ash whenever he's sick. On that note, what is it with Serena fans and slinging mud at Misty? I swear. They feel threatened by her.

He's right about Serena's "relationship" with Ash being a reason why she's "popular" among the periphery audience. But what he doesn't realize is that the same reason why she's "popular" is also her biggest flaw as a character. Like, he doesn't even question how Serena is able to remember Ash despite it being so long since she supposedly last saw him. (2-5 years before the XY anime, and for a very brief moment at that.) He also ignores that all of the flashbacks to Serena meeting Ash at Oak's Summer Camp are exclusively from Serena's PoV, as well as not questioning how Ash and Serena didn't stay in touch if they supposedly knew each other. And how does he figure that the writers loved Serena when, if they had their way, Serena wouldn't have been given the characterization that she was given? Calling it "wholesome" and "what gave fans diabetes" is just basically talking about the frosting covering the the cake that tastes like stale air. He then rambles on about how Serena sees Ash as a "selfless hero", pretty much talking about Serena's blind worship of him, and downplaying how over-the-top it is compared to the complements Ash got from other girls. Even calling Serena constantly blushing around Ash, and Ash giving her the kind of compliment that he'll give May and Dawn "wholesome" rather than seeing it as the hard-to-watch mess that it is. And again, putting the emphasis on Serena seeing Ash as both "someone who's good at battling", and "someone with a good soul", shows that he doesn't really care about Serena's character, and that he's ignored that other girls have seen Ash as someone with a good soul before without blindly worshipping him. And I struggle to see how anyone can call something so blatantly shipfic-y in an official work "special". He is right about how we're not going to to see something like Ash and Serena again. To which I say: GREAT! "AmourShipping" was a bad idea from the get-go, and should serve as a cautionary tale.

And the last point he tries to make is how the female traveling companions of Ash prior to Serena "didn't really have any much if any impact". Like, what does he mean by this? Story? On Ash? Misty pretty much played a big part in why Ash is as great of a trainer as he is now, and is why he's alive. She was responsible helping Ash discover the entrance to Cinnabar Gym. May was pretty much responsible for picking up the slack whenever Ash wasn't around, and had her own arc. Dawn was chosen by Mesprit to defend Sinnoh. And "mainly used as comedic relief or to fill in that 'girl' spot for the rest of the series"? How does he think that this somehow doesn't apply to Serena? And I don't know how he thinks that Iris is a step in the right direction when, while a breath of fresh air compared to Dawn and May, when she isn't exactly treading new ground. And he's just glazing Serena by saying that she's had a bigger purpose in the story as it progressed when it really wouldn't be different without her as it is with her. And as far as "providing a completely different contrast compared to a Pokémon Trainer" is concerned, Lillie does that job far better due to being her own character and coming across as human as Misty while having her own arc herself, whereas Serena just comes across as no different from a Bond Girl or a one-off "love-interest" for Jim Kirk that isn't named Carol Marcus. He then goes on to praise Showcases, even though they're pretty much a dumbed down Pokémon Contest rip-off. And how does she lose time and time again when her only notable loss is her first ever Showcase, which she didn't really learn anything from? And her impact on Ash's character as a whole is basically non-existent, given that she doesn't even cross Ash's mind in Journeys when he thought about his travels in Kalos, and even almost ran past her like how Shulk ran past Melia. And he fails to realize that Serena actually did to Ash something that would help someone speedrun the ending of a friendship with a depressed person in real life, making his situation about her than about him. Plus, Ash would have gotten out of his funk without her "help". And the entire scene got retconned in Journeys, anyways. And honestly. What "lessons" did she give him that he didn't or shouldn't already know before the XY anime? Her role in helping shape Ash into the trainer who would go on to win the world championship is negligible. And in case he didn't notice, the Ash following the XY anime IS the same Ash from all the way back in Indigo League but grown up mentally, and definitely not due to anything that Serena actually did. Also, Ash learned the lesson that "it's okay to lose" all the way back in Orange Islands, where Serena doesn't even make an appearance. Instead, Ash learned that lesson from LORELEI, and in a later episode, Misty reiterated the lesson that Lorelei taught him. And once again, saying that Serena "beat the jerk and sassy trope" shows his lack of care towards Serena. The fact that he even brings up the "kiss", which even Yajima himself said could have been a whisper in Ash's ear for all he knew, is emblematic of how he really sees Serena.

And really? Does he really have the audacity to ask "how could you not love her"? He's clearly spent no time outside of the echo chamber, and no time in circles where Serena is criticized because of how her character was mishandled. And he definitely spoke to nobody who actually likes Serena as a character that feels like her potential as a character was outright wasted by the direction the showrunners took with her.

As for what I think about Serena's character? I think that she sucks. Period.

[thelaurenshippen]

as a fellow artist, I often fear putting anything out there that contains too much of me. I create with a sort of blanket, or safety net - never publish anything that's too close, or too accurate. And yet I am well aware that that is exactly what I look for in the art I enjoy: the uncensored reality of being human. I look to feel less alone. To feel more human. I first learned this with the bright sessions. Getting to see characters stripped bare and turned inside out with such detail - it made me realise what I'd been missing in my art for many years. I have been working on it for over a year, but every day I keep being paralysed by the fear that what I make will unrevocably reveal me. I'll know everything that's in there, even though others may not. I'll have to let it go. You've talked about how Sam's anxiety is close to your own experience. And I wonder, how do you bear it? How do you bear putting such a huge part of yourself out there, outside of your control? And not just that, but all the effort you've put in to make it work? All the hours spent and the frustration and the euphoria - was it worth it?

oh wow, this is SUCH a great question. this truly is such a huge part of so much art and certainly a massive part of mine.

it means a lot that finding The Bright Sessions helped you realize that that kind of vulnerability is what you want in your art!! it's something that is so core to that particular work, and whenever it makes anyone feel less alone, or connected to other people in some way, it does make it all worth it (and more on that in a sec).

I completely understand the fear and the struggle of putting yourself in your art but to me it is so freeing. I had never told anyone about my panic attacks before writing them into Sam. giving her my same disorder and expressing my feelings through her was SO much easier than being vulnerable with anyone in my real life at that time. and that's still true for a lot of things - sometimes I need to work something out in my fiction before I can express it to the people I'm closest too.

but that said, there's also a lot in my fiction that is pure imagination. and there's a lot in my fiction that IS from the deepest parts of me, but I don't even realize that until later. but as you said, that doesn't mean people are going to know which is which. what you choose to tell people about which parts are inspired by real life is up to you. which, to me, is a wonderful kind of shield. you'll know everything, but you get to release it into the world - maybe excise it from you in the process if it's something negative that's been weighing you down - without the terrifying process of actually talking about yourself directly.

the flip side of this is, of course, that people may attribute certain things to you that are not from your experience, for good or for ill. through the years I have had people assume all kinds of things about me - from the opinions I hold to the neurotypicality/atypicality of my brain - that couldn't be further from the truth.

you cannot control how people engage with your art. sometimes that'll manifest in someone telling you that your art deeply touched them in a way that you could never have anticipated and sometimes it'll be the opposite and someone will assume the worst about you. and I'll be honest, that rejection cuts deep. at various points in my public creative career, I've had to change the way that I engage with online spaces or limit my time in order to protect my squishy little heart.

but I truly believe the best art is emotionally honest art. and even if you make something that isn't revealing in a scary way, people might still reject it and that will still sting. if you internalize every single opinion about your art, you will drive yourself completely mad. you have to make your art for you and trust other people out there will embrace it, which they will. but once you share art, it does leave your control, and accepting that is one of the hardest but absolutely most crucial parts of being a public artist.

so, I guess, to answer your question (I am incapable of being brief I'm so sorry), I bear it because the alternative is that I don't share the art at all. and I do make art that I don't share, but the experience of even one person connecting with my art is so wonderful, it's worth all the potential downsides. as for all the hours put into it, the strife and euphoria, all that is worthwhile because, for me, the process of making is a huge chunk of what makes being an artist fulfilling. if we're talking more practically about making a living as an artist and the feeling of "was it worth it" when it comes to hours of hard work yielding little in the way of career growth, that's a different beast, but in terms of "was it worth it even though no one connected with it/people rejected it", my answer is yes. because I connected with it.

always make art for yourself first. I truly believe there's an audience for everything but never forget that you are your target audience!

[bugcartoons]

Dndads c3, ep 23 spoilers?? Im just gonna compile all my thoughts on the ep here as im listening to it and after

Currently listening -

“Is she pulling me by my remaining leg?” ANTHONY THAT WAS SO FUNNY BUT ALSO LIKE REALLY SAD CAUSE I ALREADY FORGOT ABOUT THAT

Telling Kelsey that Francis belongs to Zuzel was probably the worst choice cause that girl can literally talk with Zuzel whenever she wants

“Freddy, you get one more time to say there was a gun there” “he didnt time gate that” god i hope they use that in a funny way. Just like at the store picking up apples and the bisons attack them but oh look! Theres a gun in the apples. Problem solved

“Blake was ahead of his time in many ways” yeah and behind it too… cause… cause he went back in time kind of. Its a really bad joke but im keeping it cause i think its funny

Milton, im so sorry they are making you do this but like it does kind of fit the character

Im so sorry but brunhilda saying “my sweet dark prince” to francis was such an ick. I had a physical cringe on my face

FRANCIS MY SWEET BABY BOY. MY CHILD. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR SAYING NO OH MY GOD. Guys thats my literal son. Im a proud mother rn

Saying wizard battle in this fairly serious moment just kicked me out of it so fast. I felt fear for kelsey and then matt said that and was like “oh it isnt that serious”

I’ll be so real. I listened to the first 20 minutes (basically just the intro) when it came out like three days ago so i forgot they had an entire conversation about the big TV they just got and in the middle of combat freedy goes “big TV matt” and i fucking lost it

Take a shot every time freedy sings “big shane sylva” this ep and another for every time anthony laughs as if its the first time he heard it

“Man now im starting to like the mom” “you dont like anything about her, you just like the version you came up with” Talk about a read

The fact that they all independently said “thanks for the cool scar babe” after matt

“Another smaller flame thrower” sent me. I love beth

Will getting so jokingly annoyed with the whole gunkata bit is amazing cause like i would too. Its really funny but it isnt helping the dm at all

I need someone to make a list of every movie or show refrence they make on this podcast. Its probably like 50 pages long

Will explaining the whole situation without any of the jokes or humor made me realize just how badass this group is. I mean common, thats sick as fuck. I need to animatic it rn

“This is the hour of the hole” man im not mature enough for that name

Anthony i swear to god. Do not do this to me right now. You have already given so many of my favorite characters so much trauma. Do not give Francis any more

If i ever meet anthony it is on sight. He will instantly catch these hands for this (thats a joke. How tf is he so good at making characters that i love????)

This is such a serious moment and trudy talking about the bowling team being her family and important to her is so extremely sweet and heart wrenching but like…. We forgot about Tony real fast. Mf was NOT someone she cared about

After thoughts -

Fucccckkkkkk man… i think this might be a turning point for Francis. At least i hope so. I hope he finally realizes just how much his friends care about him. I also hope Trudy adops him because they really are mother and son

[fallentheatre]

each other's world, torn apart

minecraft end poem as a conversation between two broken brothers.

(@hoverboards-and-dragons heyyyyy)

[ajastu]

I love that. like. you CANNOT trust Rook with standing near a ledge. Adrenaline junkie type of behavior.

[bitchfitch]

I had a shrink appointment today and while I could not see it I knew my doc was going through the five stages of grief while I explained my fool proof strategy for doing my t shots despite a crippling fear of needles: By abusing my vastly more crippling fear of being an inconvenience.

My mother and I play phasmophobia together every week. she usually has a pretty limited time to do this bc she's like. a doctor and a college professor whos always busy. So I asked her to just. hold me to doing them. We don't start playing until the shot is done. so my needle fear doesn't matter because now it's Wasting™ her time and I have to do it quick. Using one neurosis to defeat another.

It's a horrible coping mechanism because it's feeding the inconvenience fear, but it is definitionally a coping mechanism.

[realtapiocafan]

justin 😭😭😭 my babyyy

[kameyyy]

I was just mentally writing a tumblr post abt how I need that iphone asap so I can preview a chat when I don't wanna answer (if I archived them I don't get notifications) and then I was like — wait.. I don't have read-reciepts on, they won't know I read their messages 😭😭😭