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areislol · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsunday as your boyfriend

pairings. sunday x gn! reader

warnings. fluff

a/n. i love my little birdy chicken wing boy

wc. 3.3k

sunday as your boyfriend would be.. supportive and thoughtful.

— remembers the little things. sunday always notices small details about you: your favorite drink, the way you like your books arranged, or the specific way you fidget when stressed. he uses this knowledge to surprise you in subtle, meaningful ways.

— if you mention something offhand, like a snack you miss or a place you want to visit, he’ll remember and make it happen later when you least expect it.

— quiet reassurances. he’s not overly vocal, but his presence is grounding. during tough times, sunday doesn’t overwhelm you with words but instead offers steady eye contact and calm affirmations, letting you know he’s there for you.

— when you’re anxious or upset, he doesn’t push for explanations. instead, he’ll quietly stay by your side, creating a safe space for you to process your emotions.

— acts of service!!!! sunday’s thoughtfulness shines in how he anticipates your needs before you even voice them. whether it’s bringing you a blanket on a cold night or fixing something in your room, his actions speak volumes.

— he never makes a big deal out of it, either. he’ll just shrug and say, “it was no trouble.”

— he PRIORITIZES!!! your comfort!!! if you’re having a bad day, sunday ensures you’re as comfortable as possible, whether that’s adjusting his schedule to spend more time with you or simply making you your favorite meal. he’s the kind of person to silently swap seats with you in a crowded space if he senses you’re uncomfortable without making it obvious.

— the type to give you gentle encouragement. when you’re feeling unmotivated or down, sunday knows how to nudge you forward. his words are never pushy but always tailored to remind you of your strengths and capabilities.

— he respects your pace, understanding that sometimes, all you need is someone to believe in you until you’re ready to believe in yourself.

— he enjoys surprising you, but in ways that are never overwhelming. maybe it’s a handwritten note left on your desk or a playlist he made for you. these surprises always feel personal, as if they were crafted solely with you in mind.

— sunday is protective but subtle. he never smothers you or undermines your independence. instead, he ensures your safety and comfort in ways you might not even notice until later. for instance, he might quietly assess a situation to ensure it’s safe for you or offer to accompany you somewhere without making it seem like he’s worried.

— values your opinions and feelings. SO HEAVY ON THIS.

— sunday always makes sure you feel heard. he listens intently, never brushing aside your concerns, and often surprises you with how much he remembers from past conversations. even in disagreements, he approaches the situation calmly, prioritizing understanding over being right.

— he’s your calm in the storm, bringing stability to chaotic moments. his composed nature makes you feel like no challenge is insurmountable. sunday also respects your need for independence, stepping back when necessary but remaining a steady presence in the background.

— the small thoughtful gestures in your daily life :( if he notices you’re overworking, he’ll gently remind you to take a break or place a cup of tea by your side with a gentle kiss to your temple.

— he learns your routines and preferences, making adjustments to his own schedule to align with yours when possible.

— encourages your growth!!!!! sunday always supports your dreams and goals, often offering practical advice or quiet encouragement to help you achieve them. he never tries to overshadow or control your ambitions, instead acting as a partner who wants to see you flourish.

— QUITE LITERALLY YOUR NUMBER ONE SUPPORTER!!!! the type to hold up a huge sign that says "[NAME]'S NUMBER ONE FAN!!!!!" with headbangs, bracelets, necklaces, bags, keychains and merch of YOU plastered all over him and that darn sparkle in his eye.

— the king of respecting boundaries. he’s incredibly respectful of your personal space and emotions, never pushing you to share more than you’re ready to. sunday’s patience ensures that your relationship grows at a pace that feels comfortable for both of you.

—

you slumped into the couch, the weight of a long day pressing on your shoulders. before you could fully sink into your thoughts, Sunday appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with two steaming mugs of tea.

“chamomile, to help you relax,” he said, his voice soft as he placed the tray on the coffee table. his movements were graceful, deliberate, as if this small act of kindness carried the same weight as any major battle he faced.

you blinked up at him, surprised by the gesture. “how did you know i needed this?”

his lips quirked in a faint smile. “i pay attention.”

he settled beside you, handing you the mug. the warmth seeped into your hands, and a quiet sense of peace washed over you. sunday didn’t push you to talk or explain—he simply stayed there, his calm presence soothing you more than any words could.

sunday as your boyfriend would be subtle in his own little romantic ways.

— quiet love letters. QUIET LOVE LETTERS!!!!

— sunday isn’t one for grand declarations, but he writes letters that reveal the depth of his feelings. he leaves them in places you’ll find unexpectedly, like inside a book you’re reading or your bag before a big day. the words are poetic yet simple, and you adore them so much (which basically gives him the motivation to continue)

— enjoys giving personalized gifts. every gift he gives feels uniquely tailored to you. he remembers small details, like a song you said you liked months ago or a piece of jewelry that matches your favorite outfit, and surprises you with them.

— he once gave you a scarf he’d chosen because it reminded him of your favorite color or the warmth of your laugh.

— sunday loves to take you to quiet, beautiful places—a secluded garden, a scenic overlook, or a tranquil café. these moments aren’t extravagant but feel intimate, allowing you to share time together away from the world.

— he plans these outings based on your mood, sensing when you need to recharge or celebrate something special.

— definitely the type to make you playlists, he expresses himself through music, crafting playlists that reflect his feelings for you. each song holds a memory or emotion he associates with your time together.

— when you’re apart, he sends you these playlists, saying, “this reminded me of you.”

— forehead kisses!!!! one of his signature gestures. sunday believes there’s something deeply personal and tender about a forehead kiss. it’s his way of grounding you, showing his affection without words.

— he often does this absentmindedly while walking past you or as you’re falling asleep beside him.

— celebrating milestones subtly instead of grand parties, sunday marks milestones with quiet dinners, heartfelt toasts, and small tokens to commemorate the occasion. he focuses on the meaning behind the moment rather than the spectacle.

— sunday loves sharing his favorite books, songs, or stories with you, not because he wants you to love them too but because they’re part of who he is. he’ll read passages aloud to you, his voice calm and soothing, and ask, “what do you think?”

— silent but loving gestures. (OUUU he always has a smile on his face whenever staring at your cute face) he’ll fix your scarf when it’s slipping or pull you closer when the wind picks up, all without saying a word. these actions speak volumes about his care and attentiveness.

— if you’re working late, he’ll leave a cup of tea and a snack by your side before retreating to give you space.

— when you’re upset, he doesn’t try to fix everything. instead, he holds you, his arms steady and warm, whispering soft reassurances like, “it’s okay, i’m here.”

— he lets you cry or vent as much as you need, never rushing you or downplaying your feelings.

— (symbolic) tokens!! sunday has a habit of giving you small items that carry meaning—like a pressed flower he picked during one of your walks or a smooth stone from a beach you visited together.

— these items become cherished keepsakes, reminding you of the memories you’ve shared.

— sunday is very affectionate, only to you though. his hugs are firm and grounding, as if he’s shielding you from the world while sharing his quiet strength. also likes tracing circles on your hand when you’re holding his or brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

— i forgot to mention but you're the ONLY person he'll let touch his wings other than his sister, to him his wings are very much apart of him and they are sensitive, so him letting you touch them says so much. (he likes the way your fingers trace the soft curve of each figure so yes, please continue)

— trust me when i say this but he makes you feel SEEN. he’ll surprise you by recounting things you’ve said long ago, proving how closely he listens. if you doubt yourself, sunday reminds you of your strengths in his understated way: “you’ve done it before. you’ll do it again.”

—

the crowd was suffocating, bodies pressing together as the cold air bit at your cheeks. you shivered, trying to navigate the bustling space without losing your balance. it was one of those winter nights where even the stars seemed to hide, and the faint warmth of streetlights offered little comfort against the chill.

without a word, sunday’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled you closer—so close that your shoulder brushed his side. his long coat shielded you partially from the wind, but it was the solid warmth of him that truly made the cold feel less cruel.

“stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, just for you to hear. his free hand rested lightly against your back, guiding you as the two of you weaved through the crowd.

it wasn’t just practical; it was protective, almost instinctive. sunday’s tall frame blocked the harsh gusts of wind and the jostling strangers. every now and then, his golden eyes darted to you, checking to see if you were okay.

when you shivered again, he tugged you even closer, his hip brushing against yours as he adjusted his coat to drape over your shoulders. the faintest smile played at his lips. “better?”

you nodded, your cheeks warming despite the freezing temperature. “much better.”

he said nothing more, but the way he stayed so close, the way his hand never left yours, spoke volumes. in the chaos of the cold, crowded world, sunday made you feel like you were the only one who mattered.

—

sunday as your boyfriend loves spending quality time with you.

— spending quality time with sunday feels like an oasis of calm in a chaotic world.

— he doesn’t need to fill the silence with words to make you feel cherished. whether it’s lying side by side on the couch reading, or watching the night sky, he’s content just being near you. his company is enough to make you feel like time slows down, as if the world outside doesn’t matter.

— he enjoys low-key activities that allow you to connect in a way that feels effortless. maybe it’s cooking together, where he takes the lead but is always careful to make sure you’re involved in the process, whether it's chopping vegetables or stirring a sauce.

— shared hobbies!!!!!!! sunday is someone who loves learning about your interests, even if they’re completely different from his own. he sits with you as you sketch or watch your favorite movies, asking thoughtful questions and genuinely wanting to know what excites you about it. his curiosity about you makes even the simplest activities feel special.

— great at supporting you silently (if.. that makes sense), sometimes, quality time doesn’t require a lot of talking. sunday’s presence alone provides comfort. whether you’re working on a project or simply relaxing, he’s content being near you, offering a soft, reassuring smile when you look up. he’s always the first to notice if you're stressed, offering a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on without making a fuss about it.

— loves doing the little things together as he takes joy in the mundane. running errands becomes an adventure when he’s by your side. stopping by a local café becomes a mini date, and even grocery shopping feels more like an intimate exchange. there’s a quiet magic in the way he makes ordinary moments feel like a treasure.

— you could literally be sitting in silence, reading a book while zoning out with sunday beside you. sunday? oh, he's just watching you aimlessly, eyes locked onto you HARD. he doesn't mind being in silence with you, just as long as you're around he'll be better than ever.

— whether it’s through shared silence or quiet conversation, sunday makes sure that every minute together feels treasured. he cherishes time spent with you because, for him, those moments are what truly matter.

—

you were curled up on the couch, lost in a book. the soft rustling of pages filled the quiet room, the only sound between you and sunday, who sat beside you with an unread book in his hands. but his focus wasn’t on the pages in front of him. no, his gaze was fixed on you.

he admired the way the light from the window caught in your hair, making it shine with a soft glow. the way your fingers turned each page with such care, as though the book was something sacred. every now and then, you would bite your lip in concentration, or softly hum a tune you barely noticed, and sunday found himself completely enchanted by these small, quiet moments.

his golden eyes softened as he watched you, his heart swelling with an affection that took him by surprise. there was something about the way you immersed yourself in the world of the book that made him feel both in awe and utterly in love.

you glanced up, catching him staring at you. “something on my face?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

sunday blinked, the spell momentarily broken. his cheeks flushed, but his smile remained gentle and warm. “nothing,” he said, his voice soft. “just thinking how… beautiful you look, lost in your world.”

you tilted your head, amused by the sudden honesty in his words. “you’re staring at me like you’re watching something magical.”

he chuckled quietly, his gaze returning to you with a tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. “you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

the moment passed, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his hand, so subtly, found yours. it was his quiet way of showing that even in these small, peaceful moments, he was entirely devoted to you.

and in that moment, you realized that the most magical thing wasn’t the book, or the quiet room—it was the way sunday looked at you, as though you were everything he ever needed.

—

sunday as your boyfriend absolutely loves recieving and giving affection.

— sunday and his subtle affection... sigh.

— sunday loves affection, though he expresses it in the quietest of ways. he isn’t one for grand gestures, but his affection is felt in the small, tender moments he shares with you. here's how sunday enjoys giving and receiving affection:

— since sunday isn't so big on pda, gentle touches is the way to go!!! sunday's affection is often shown through touch, though he never forces it. when you’re close, his fingers might brush against yours, or he’ll softly press his palm to your back when you’re walking together. it’s subtle, but the warmth he offers in those touches is undeniable.

— can we appreciate the art of quiet presence?? the way he often shows his love by simply being there, his presence a steady comfort. when you’re upset or stressed, he won’t rush to fix things but will instead sit beside you, his body leaning just a little closer, as though the closeness itself is enough to soothe you (which, it is).

— sunday’s affection is often expressed through the little things. maybe it’s making you tea because he knows you’re tired, or handing you a blanket when he notices you shivering, all without a word. it’s never about what he does, but the thoughtfulness behind it.

— the way he listens. everybody LISTEN UP!! when you talk, sunday listens—not just to your words, but to the way you say them. he remembers the smallest details, and when he surprises you by bringing up something you mentioned months ago, you feel the love in his attentive listening.

— expressing through his eyes. sometimes, he doesn’t need to speak to show his affection. his golden eyes do the talking, always softening when he looks at you, filled with warmth and adoration. he’s not the type to openly gush about his feelings, but when he catches your eye, you can feel his love in that look.

— sunday finds affection in quiet moments. when you’re reading together, or when you’re simply sitting beside him, not needing to say anything, his hand might rest against your leg or his arm will casually brush yours. these moments of silence are when he feels the closest to you, when affection doesn’t need to be vocalized but is felt through proximity.

— while sunday is reserved about his own needs, he does enjoy receiving affection in ways that aren’t over the top. a kiss on his cheek, a warm hug when he least expects it—these things make his heart flutter. he might not ask for it, but he welcomes your attention with a smile that says everything.

— THIS MAN LOVESSSS ACTS OF SERVICE!!! one of his main ways of showing love.

— when sunday wants to show you he cares, he’ll do something for you before you even ask. whether it’s fixing something around the house or making sure you’re comfortable, his actions speak louder than words.

— you don't even gotta tell him twice to grab a cup of water he's up and running. you need help with your paperwork? who knew you had a flash in your home? need your hair done and touched up? suddenly he's a hairdresser with a certificate in hairdressing/salon.

—

you sat at the table, focused on a small project, when you felt a subtle presence beside you. sunday had quietly moved closer, and now his hand brushed against yours. it was barely noticeable at first, just a light touch as if to say, i’m here.

without thinking, your fingers shifted just enough to intertwine with his, a simple gesture that made your heart flutter. he didn’t say anything, but his thumb lightly traced the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes.

when you looked up, his golden eyes were fixed on you, soft and attentive. there was a quiet affection in the way he held your hand, his fingers never tightening or pulling away. he wasn’t in a hurry. he just wanted to be close.

“you’re quiet today,” you murmured, a gentle smile forming on your lips as you looked into his eyes.

“i gues so,” sunday said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. he squeezed your hand just a little, letting the warmth of the touch speak for him.

it had always been this way—gentle and subtle. he didn’t need to fill the space with words; the way his thumb moved over your skin, the way his fingers lingered with such care, was all the affection you needed.

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

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#sunday x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x yn #hsr x you #sunday x you #sunday x yn #honkai star rail x reader

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demusewriter · 3 months ago

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I Loved You Too Early

Summary: You've been admiring the captain of the prominent football team in your school, whom you secretly admiring from afar. You thought he was out of your reach until you saw him studying in your brother's room. Genre: brother's best friend, slow-burn Pairing: Non-idol! Jungwon x Fem! Reader Word count: Part II: 14,297 (Overall: 26,179k) Chapters: 10 (Completed) (divided in two parts) Warnings: This is heavily inspired by the Chinese drama 'Hidden Love' so, there's a big resemblance, age gap (5 years difference), unrequited love, a little bit of sprinkle of angst, fluff, time skip, just a teeny-weeny bit of fist fighting (but not too much!), and not solid proof-read because its too long (╥﹏╥). Author's Note: Thank you for patiently reading my story! I’m glad you’re still with me through the second part, despite how long it’s gotten (≧∇≦). I really appreciate you taking the time to enjoy my work. I hope you enjoyed it! (´▽`ʃƪ)♡

Please don’t forget to support ENHYPEN and the members in their projects as well. Let's show them the love and appreciation we have on their crafts. ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

Enjoy, and maybe I'll see you again next year? (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) Haha!

PART I PART II

Chapter Six

Amidst the chatter of the crowd and the rhythmic pulse of music drifting from nearby venues, you find yourself enveloped in the energy of the night.

Tonight feels different, a subtle shift in the air that whispers of newfound freedom and possibilities.

For the first time, you find yourself standing amidst the crowded club, a cocktail in hands, embracing the intoxicating energy of the night as you celebrate along with your friends the milestone of entering your senior year of college.

As you glance around taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling club scene, you can't help but wonder how much has changed.

Ever since your move to the other city after getting accepted to your dream University, you started to learn to become independent which slowly shaped you into adulthood with each passing day.

As you watch your friends lose themselves in the rhythm of the music, you can't help but realize how time flies so fast.

It seems like yesterday you were a freshman, and now, you're already in your final year of college.

You shook your head with a soft smile as you put down your drink.

You look at your friends one last time before you sneak your way outside of the club to get some fresh air.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the breathtaking sight of the city skyline glowing with lights, a mesmerizing contrast to the dimly lit interior of the club.

Leaning against the railing, you let out a deep breath, allowing the cool night air to soothe your senses. You lean your head down on your arms, which rest on the railing, and drown yourself in admiring the city lights.

The mesmerizing glow of the city lights illuminates another pair of eyes, making it look like there's a stars twinkle in their eyes.

With his arms leaning over the railing, he gently swirls the glass of champagne in his hands before bringing it to his lips for a sip.

Jungwon can't help but nod to the taste of champagne which leaves a refreshing sensation that lingers on his tongue.

He was supposed to be inside of the club enjoying the celebration of his friend's promotion but the noise was too much for him that he found the balcony as his temporary refuge from the chaos inside.

As his eyes went back to the city skyline, his head were once again flooded with loneliness.

It's been five years since he decided to move to another city to pursue his dreams, and despite achieving them and even reaching more than he expected, there is still a nagging emptiness in his soul that casts a shadow over his triumphs.

The success he had worked so hard for felt hallow, leaving him questioning whether the sacrifices he had made truly worth it or if he had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

It feels like something is missing that leaves a huge void inside of him.

As Jungwon's gaze wandered into the big city skyline that screamed mockery at his loneliness, his eyes traced the twinkling lights of the cityscape until they fell upon a figure standing five meters beside him.

Jungwon's felt his heart pound so hard for the first time as he watched her looking at the same city skyline with her head cradled in her arms in the railing with a same gentle smile that he used to adore in the past.

He can't believe that after so many years, he was now able to see some familiar face back in his hometown.

"Y/n?"

A familiar voice broke through your reverie, calling out your name with a hint of disbelief.

Startled, you glance at your side, searching for the source of the voice that had called out to you.

Your gaze settled on the figure meters away, and as you squinted to get a better look, a subtle beat stirred inside your chest.

As recognition dawned on you, your heart finally quickened its pace, its rhythm echoing a familiar tune that you haven't felt for five long years.

With each beat, the sensation grew stronger, enveloping you in a wave of nostalgia.

It was a rhythm so deeply ingrained, so unmistakably familiar, that despite the passage of time, you felt it once again, coursing through your veins like a rediscovered melody from the past.

After all those years, he is the only one that continues to stir your heart with this much intensity.

Standing beneath the glow of the city lights, he exuded an aura of masculinity that seemed to draw everyone's eyes effortlessly.

His once-boyish features had transformed into a striking display of manliness, with a jawline so sharp it could cut through the night air with ease

The black polo that he was wearing perfectly hugged his broad shoulders, accentuating every muscle beneath.

At that moment, it was as if time stood still, the world around you fading into the background as you found yourself captivated with disbelief.

"Jungwon?"

The simple sound of his name on your lips sends a rush of warmth flooding through him, igniting a smile that stretches across Jungwon's face in disbelief.

It's new that you didn't call him with the honorifics that you used to call him before yet it was the least of his problem—it's the fact that it's you, someone he hasn't seen in what feels like an eternity, who has spoken it.

"Yeah. It's me, Y/n," he softly said "It's been a long time"

His eyes sparkle with joy as he responds, and you can't help but feel a pang in your heart at the sight.

How is it that after purposely ghosting him for years, he still finds happiness in seeing you?

"Yeah, it is," you murmur, averting your eyes as guilt slowly consumes your soul. "How are you?"

"Everything's fine," Jungwon leans on the railing looking at the cityscape with a faint smile "although a little bit lonely for being away in home"

You nodded, clasping your hands behind your back. You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek, feeling the weight of awkward silence settling the atmosphere.

Your conflicted thoughts race through your mind on what to say next, wondering if you should apologize or stay silent.

As if Jungwon could read your mind, he broke through your reverie.

"You don't have to worry about anything, Y/n," his eyes find yours again, this time with more gentleness on it, making your heart beat a little faster. "I understand, you might have your own reason"

Despite the course of time, Jungwon remained unchanged. He was still the same person you remembered—understanding, reassuring, and everything you had once fallen in love with.

"Although, you owe me a dinner for all the lost time we haven't seen each other," he teasingly says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, matching it with a playful smirk.

Your eyes went wide, taken aback by what he said.

You spoke too soon; he's now become playful.

Jungwon's eyes formed into a crescent moon as he chuckles at your reaction.

"Sorry, I can't help but tease you. It's really been a long time since I've talked to someone I know from back home," he said, tucking his hands into his neatly ironed dark pants and leaning his back against the railing. "Besides your brother, of course."

"You still in contact with Riki-niisan?" You ask in surprise.

"We never lost contact with each other. I never knew your brother could be clingy" He joked, making you smile. "I also found out from him that you moved to this city to study"

His eyes found yours again, and as you looked into them, a hint of sadness reflected back at you, instantly making you feel like your heart dropped.

"I've been wanting to get in touch with you, but I'm afraid you might not want to talk to me."

As you continue to look into Jungwon's eyes, the regrets succeed in clouding not only your mind but also your heart.

Regrets about the times you had a chance back then to make up with him, thinking that if you had just been capable of handling your emotions instead of avoiding him and projecting your feelings onto him, there wouldn't be this series of "what if's" that has built in your mind.

But because of how childishly you handled the situation, you ended up hurting the person who had only pure intentions, and now he is doubting whether he was the problem when it was you to blame.

"Jungwon, I—"

"Y/n," your words were suddenly cut off when you heard one of your friends call you, her face showing signs of tiredness.

"I think we need to go home; Soo-ah is too wasted," she sighed, shaking her head as if she was stressed about something.

You peeked inside the club, trying to find the rest of your friends from the balcony. As you caught a glimpse of them, you couldn't help but feel worried.

The scene where one of your friends swaying side to side, raising a bottle of champagne, and shouting colorful words at the top of her lungs, is enough for you to end the night.

However, you were snapped back to reality when you realized Jungwon was still there with you on the balcony.

As you looked at him, he already had his arms crossed over his chest, still leaning on the railing. His eyes were on you, and a small, wistful smile played on his lips, carrying a hint of understanding.

"Go ahead, it's getting late," he said with a nod, gesturing for you to follow your friend, who was still standing by the sliding door, waiting for you to join her and go home.

Not wanting to bother your friend any further, as she looked exhausted, you nodded at him and proceeded to follow your friend to the rest of the girls to pack up.

As you walked away from the balcony, it felt like each step was stamping on your heart, making a cracking noise and echoing another layer of guilt that piled up in your heart.

You closed your eyes and clutched your chest, trying to soothe the pain you were feeling.

"What if this is the final chance?"

Your steps came to a halt.

"What if this is the last?"

As if your body took over, you turned around and ran back to the balcony with a pounding heart.

Maybe you acted like a child for ignoring him for years, thinking he might have moved on and forgotten about it, but you were so wrong.

Meeting him tonight, felt like fate had a reason.

"Jungwon!" you called. You found him still in the same position but now looking up at the sky with his eyes closed.

Those gorgeous eyes found yours once again, wide from hearing his name exclaimed by you.

"Let's do it," you said, still catching your breath. Jungwon frowned, dumbfounded by your words.

"Let's get dinner to catch up," you continued, the words slipped in your mouth feel like a weight you had been carrying for five years, slightly lifted, making you genuinely smile. "My treat."

At that moment, not only did your heart feel like it could finally breathe from the chains of guilt that caged you, but also the man who had been wishing to meet you could finally gather the courage to ask about the things he did that made you avoid him and formally apologize for it.

With a soft smile, he uttered words that came straight from his heart.

"I'm looking forward to it, Y/n"

Chapter Seven

Sometimes, it feels like the universe adores you, bestowing blessings that you don't always feel you deserve. Sure, life isn't as easy as it seems in the movies, but with the universe blessing you with people who become your strong support system, life becomes bearable.

However, just as much as the universe adores you, it can also seem to curse you with its worst imaginable trials. It felt like the universe was in that state with you when a realization dawned on you.

How can you keep the dinner that you promise when you have no means to contact Jungwon?

You slammed your head onto the open book placed in your desk with the rest of your study materials creating a loud thud. You groaned at your stupidity.

This realization have been bugging you for days.

You were ready to give Jungwon the details about the dinner you planned, but as you scrolled through your contacts, a sudden lightning bolt of awareness struck you.

You had deleted his number a long time ago.

You stomped your feet in frustration, you thought studying will help you ignore this feeling but it wasn’t working well for you.

"Still thinking about it?"

With your head still resting on the desk, you turned your head towards the sound of a voice and saw Eunhee standing in the doorway, a plastic bag in one hand and the other resting on her waist.

"Okaeri" you lifelessly greet.

After graduating high school, you and Eunhee decided to apply to the same university and, miraculously, both passed the entrance exam.

Her presence was one of the reasons your parents felt comfortable letting you move to another city for your studies; knowing someone would be there to accompany you gave them peace of mind.

"Tadaima" she greets back with a smile.

You and Eunhee had been roommates ever since freshman year, sharing both the challenges and joys of college life together, including the history you had with Jungwon.

The first time you told her about it, you got hit in the head, delivering a much-needed reality check.

She scolded you for how poorly you handled the situation, insisting that if you had told her sooner, she would have knocked some senses into you to prevent it from happening.

You couldn't help but agree and wish you had confided in her back then.

"I told you, just contact your brother; he surely has Jungwon's number" Eunhee suggested.

You knew she was right. It was an obvious solution to simply ask your brother, especially since Jungwon had mentioned they were still in contact.

It was an easy fix, a straightforward way to solve your problem. Yet, for some reason, it felt incredibly difficult for you.

The thought of reaching out to your brother and admitting that you needed Jungwon's number was daunting. It made you confront the reality of your past actions and the lingering feelings of guilt and regret.

Despite knowing it was the simplest way forward, the emotional weight of the situation made it seem far from easy.

Now, lying in your bed, you stared at your brother's message inbox. You typed out comprehensive sentences, trying to find the right words to ask for Jungwon's number, only to delete them repeatedly.

The task should have been simple, but each attempt felt like an impossible hurdle. The more you tried, the more the words eluded you, as if the gravity of the situation rendered you unable to reach out for the help you needed.

With a heavy sigh, you finally gave up and turned off your phone, placing it on your bedside table.

Ready to accept defeat and let sleep take you away from your misery, you closed your eyes.

Just as you began to drift off, your phone chimed with a notification. You reached for your phone again and squinted to the sudden brightness of the screen.

"Hi, it's Jungwon. I hope you haven't forgotten the dinner you promised ;)"

The content of the message nearly made you jump out of bed, totally erasing any trace of sleep from your mind.

The message took you aback, making you question if it was really him, as it was a mystery how he had gotten your number.

And with a wink emoji?!

It was all so new to you that it took a while to gather your thoughts and reply.

"Is it really you, Jungwon?"

As if he was waiting for your reply, he responded almost instantly.

"Yeah, it's me~"

You let out a gasp, covering your mouth in disbelief when he sent you a selfie. He was lying on his bed, wearing a black shirt with his hair visibly wet from the shower.

He was dashingly handsome.

The sight of him was enough to make your face turn as red as a tomato and cause your brain to short-circuit, rendering you completely speechless.

"I got your number from your brother when you started studying here. He insisted I have it in case of an emergency. I'm glad I kept it."

His message left you in a daze. All those years, he had your number?

The realization hit you hard, for all this time, the means to contact him had been right there, and he had known how to reach you?

The thought of him having your number all these years sent a whirlwind of emotions through you, from shock to a bittersweet.

"I've always wanted to reach out," Jungwon admitted. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me."

His words words made your heart swell with emotion. You felt a mix of guilt, relief, and a new kind of happiness. You realized that despite the years of silence, he had always kept a piece of you with him, waiting for the right moment.

"Thank you for reaching out, Jungwon," you finally replied. You bit your lip, nervous about the next message you wanted to send, something you had been wanting to say to him for a very long time.

"I've missed you."

With shaky hands, you quickly typed the next message to divert his attention from the first one.

"And yes, the dinner is still up. Are you free next Friday night?"

As you sat there, staring at your phone, with all the details being set for the upcoming dinner, you felt a sudden shift within you.

The regret and guilt began to fade, replaced by hopeful anticipation. You knew that this was a second chance, a moment to reconnect and rebuild what had been lost.

For the first time in a long while, you felt a genuine sense of happiness.

This time, you were determined to make the right choices.

Chapter Eight

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, gently waking you from a restless sleep. The sudden feeling of significant weighed heavily on your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Today was the day of your dinner with Jungwon.

Rising from bed, you went through your morning routine with a sense of purpose. This wasn’t just any day; it was a chance to make things right.

After a quick shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and stood in front of your closet, contemplating your outfit. You wanted to look perfect, not just for Jungwon, but for yourself—an expression of the new beginning you were stepping into.

Next, you moved to your vanity, carefully applying makeup that enhanced your natural beauty. A bit of eyeliner, a touch of blush, and a swipe of your favorite lipstick completed the look.

You wanted to present the best version of yourself, one that reflected the changes you had undergone over the years.

Satisfied with your appearance, you slipped into a pair of comfortable yet stylish shoes and gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror. You felt a surge of confidence and a sense of readiness to face whatever the evening might bring.

With everything in place, you grabbed your purse and checked your phone for any messages from Jungwon. Seeing none, you took a deep breath, allowing a wave of calm to wash over you.

Today was about seizing the moment and embracing the second chance you had been given.

When the time finally arrived, you felt a sudden mix of excitement and nervousness as you entered the restaurant.

You took a seat at the table you had reserved, heart brimming with hope as you awaited Jungwon's arrival.

Or so you thought would happen.

You nervously swirled the third juice you had ordered with the straw, eyes constantly darting outside and then back to your phone, waiting for a notification. Thirty minutes had passed since you arrived, and there was still no sign of Jungwon. Restlessness began to seep in, and doubts started to creep into your mind.

"Just thirty more minutes," you told yourself. "He'll come."

Yet as the minutes ticked by, Jungwon was still nowhere to be found. You tried to convince yourself that he hadn’t intentionally ditched you, reasoning that perhaps he had forgotten since you hadn’t notified him today or given him a heads-up that you were already at the meeting spot.

Sighing in defeat, you felt a lump forming in your throat, tears threatening to spill. Gathering your things, you decided to leave, hoping that some ice cream might help soothe the growing sadness in your chest.

As you left the restaurant, your phone rang. Despite not being in the mood to talk to anyone, you still answered, seeing it was your brother.

"Nini?" you tried to casually greet Ni-ki, masking the sadness in your tone.

"Are you free tonight?" he asked. You were about to decline, assuming he was about to pull one of his usual stunts, flying over to visit you as if it were just a short trip instead of thousands of miles away.

You really weren’t in the mood for his crazy antics. But his next words stopped you in your tracks.

"Can you check on Jungwon? He hasn't been answering his phone since yesterday."

The sadness and frustration that had boiled inside you as you exited the restaurant evaporated in an instant, replaced by concern and agitation as you stood in front of Jungwon's apartment door.

Ni-ki had given you directions to Jungwon's place, asking you to check on him after he'd become unresponsive. Your brother wanted to do it himself, but work had him tied up, leaving you with the task.

"Jungwon?" you called out after ringing the doorbell.

No response.

You tried again, but just like the first time, silence greeted you from the other side. Your worry intensified, and you began chewing the inside of your cheek anxiously.

Glancing at one of your brother's messages, you carefully entered the passcode for Jungwon's apartment that Ni-ki had provided.

The door clicked open after you entered the passcode, and as you turned the knob, the trembling in your hand was a clear sign of your nervousness.

You had no idea what you were about to see behind that door, and the fear of finding something horrible gnawed at you. Images from the countless crime documentaries you had binge-watched replayed in your mind, making you gulp.

You pushed the door open slowly, and immediately, the darkness inside greeted you. Cold sweat formed on your forehead as you hesitated.

This was exactly how things started in horror movies!

With a swift motion, you swung the door wide open and frantically searched for the light switch, tapping the wall until, by some miracle, you found it. The lights flickered on, and you let out a sigh of relief as you scanned the room, finding nothing unusual.

You called for Jungwon again, but still, no response. Your phone was still clutched in your hand, already open to the call app, ready to dial for help if needed. Your heart raced as you faced another door.

Jungwon's room.

You knocked once more, calling his name, but it was the same as before—silence. Slowly, you opened the door, bracing yourself for what lay inside. The room was dark, but with the lights from the hallway spilling in, you quickly spotted Jungwon lying on his bed, wrapped in a thick blanket.

Rushing to his side, you immediately noticed he was drenched in sweat, his breath labored and pained. You pressed your palm to his forehead, and the burning heat of his skin confirmed what your instincts had already told you.

Jungwon hadn’t missed your dinner out of spite or to get back at you.

He couldn’t come because he was sick.

Somehow, knowing this brought a sense of peace to your heart.

The room seemed to swirl and twist as Jungwon slowly opened his eyes to a blurry world. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, and though his body was consumed by an insatiable heat, he felt cold to the bone.

As consciousness slowly seeped back into him, the realization struck—he was burning up with fever. Struggling to focus his blurred vision on the ceiling above him, fragments of memory began to return.

He was supposed to have dinner with you.

The thought hit him like an ice-cold bucket of water, sending a shiver down his spine that was ten times colder than the fever raging through his body.

Jungwon had felt under the weather the day before, but he had brushed it off, determined to finish his work. Even though he had felt worse earlier, he convinced himself that a little rest would set him right. He had been looking forward to tonight's dinner so much that he ignored the signs. But as the day wore on, his condition only worsened until he was now bedridden.

Panic surged through him as he tried to sit up, imagining you sitting alone at the restaurant, thinking he had abandoned you. But a wave of dizziness hit him, forcing him back down onto the bed. He closed his eyes in frustration, unable to bear the thought of you drowning in negative thoughts, believing he had stood you up.

He needed to get to you, even if it meant pushing through the fever and dealing with the consequences of his stubbornness.

As Jungwon gathered his strength to make another attempt to rise, he flinched when something cool and damp touched his forehead. His eyes snapped open, and he was greeted by the sight of your gentle face, leaning over him as you carefully wiped his forehead.

Jungwon blinked, struggling to process the sight of you beside him. The cool cloth in your hand was a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating from his skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry and scratchy, and only a faint croak escaped.

"Shh," you whispered, your voice soothing. "Don't try to talk."

Your gentle tone, combined with the sight of your concerned eyes, made something inside Jungwon twist with emotion. He hadn't seen you this close in what felt like forever, and the reality of you being here, taking care of him, was overwhelming.

Your touch was calming, a balm to the chaotic storm of thoughts and fever plaguing him. He felt guilty—guilty for worrying you, for not being able to show up like he had promised. But the guilt was slowly being replaced by something else, something he couldn't name as he watched you care for him.

"I tried..." he began again, his voice cracking. "I didn't want you to think.."

"I know," you said softly, cutting him off. "I know you didn't stand me up on purpose."

He wanted to apologize, to explain how much it had meant to him, how much he had looked forward seeing you again. But the words wouldn't come out right, and the exhaustion tugging at him was too strong.

Instead, he just watched you, his eyes heavy but refusing to close, afraid that if he blinked, you might disappear.

As he looked like you, he had noticed something in you that he failed to realized when he first saw you at the club.

You had changed.

Gone was the carefree, youthful face he remembered from before. Now, your features had matured, carrying a grace and poise that hadn't been there before.

The roundness of your cheeks had given at to a more defined structure, your eyes still held the same warmth but with the depth that spoke of experiences lived and lessons learned. There was a quiet strength in the way you moved, in the way you cared for him, that he hadn't noticed before.

You were beautiful.

Not just in the way he had always known, but in a way that took his breath away. The realization stirred something deep within him, an unfamiliar feeling that made his heart beat in a different, almost unsteady rhythm.

The longer he continue staring at your face, his vision slowly turning blurry with only your angelic face being in the focus. It feels like every blink there's slowly a heart shapes one by one appearing, floating around you.

'It's just the fever,' he told himself, trying to push the feeling down. His thoughts were muddled, and he knew better than to trust them when he was this sick.

But even as he told himself this, his eyes couldn't stop tracing your features, his heart couldn't stop its erratic rhythm. The sight of you like this, so close, so caring, was doing things to him—things he hadn't expected, things he wasn't prepared for.

It made him uneasy, yet at the same time, he felt drawn to it, to you.

"Jungwon?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, soft and concerned.

He blinked, realizing that he's been staring, his heart still thudding painfully in his chest. "I-I'm okay," he croaked, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it to reassure you or himself.

You gave him a small, understanding smile, one that made his heart twist in that strange, unfamiliar way again. "You should rest," you said gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "You need to get better."

Jungwon nodded, though his thoughts were far from restful. As he closed his eyes, he couldn't shake the image of you from his mind, couldn't stop the way his heart was responding to your presence.

He tried to ignore it, tried to convince himself that it was nothing, just the fever messing with his head.

But deep down, he knew better.

As he drifted back into a fitful sleep, one thought lingered in his mind: you had changed,

so had his feelings.

Chapter Nine

Jungwon never felt a relief in his entire life as he open his eyes from a good sleep. He lay there for a moment, letting the stillness of the morning settle over him, before finally pushing himself up, testing his strength.

After a sleepless night and days of feeling weak, the fever finally broken leaving him feeling lighter, almost like he was waking up from a long, hazy dream.

He stretched, feeling the tightness in his muscles, but it was the good kind—the kind that reminded him he was alive, that he was getting better.

All thanks to you.

There are no days that you are not there beside him while he was battling with his sickness. Without you it will make sure take him longer to recover.

As his thoughts drifted back to you, the way you'd cared for him so gently, the concern in your eyes, the way your hand felt cool and reassuring against his fevered skin made him smile, soft smile that felt like it came from a place deep inside him that he hadn't accessed in years.

He got out of bed slowly, steadying himself as got out bed slowly, steading himself as he made his way to the bathroom. The face that looked back at him in the mirror was pale, but there was a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

He splashed some water on his face, feeling the coolness refresh him, waking him up fully. As he patted his face with a clean towel, he noticed a bright, bear shaped sticky note stuck on the bathroom mirror.

"Don't forget to take your medicine on time! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ – Y/N"

He can't help but giggled at the kaomoji that you used, quickly reminded him those notes he gets on the gifts he received when he was high school usually on his energy drink, so much similar.

He knows.

He continued his path though the apartment, finding more notes: one on the refrigerator door, reminding him to eat healthy foods, another on the nightstand urging him to rest, and even one on the kitchen counter suggesting he hydrate often.

Each note was a tiny piece of your care left behind, and with each one he read, a warmth spread through his chest.

Jungwon's fingers lingered over the last note, his mind replaying the moments when you must have placed them there. He hadn't realized how much these small gestures would mean to him.

The realization that you've been here, that you cared enough to leave these notes, stirred something in him.

With a smirk, he grabbed a pen and a small notepad, mirroring your approach. He walked back to the refrigerator and placed his first note next to yours:

"Only if you join me for the next meal"

He continued around the apartment, leaving playful and grateful replies to each of your notes:

"You've got great handwriting, by the way."

"Feeling much better, thank to your TLC."

Jungwon grabbed his phone, the weight of it in his hand grounding him as he scrolled through his messages. There were a few from his coworkers, a missed call from his boss, but it was your message that caught his eye.

"Went back to uni to attend some classes. Let me know if you need anything. :)"

He smiled and quickly typed out a reply.

"Thank you, I really appreciate everything you did for me. How about we reschedule that dinner? This time, I promise I'll be there."

He hit send, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. He hadn't felt like this in a long time—like a kid waiting for something exciting to happen, something that could change everything.

Jungwon walked into his kitchen, making a simple breakfast as he waited for your reply. He couldn't stop himself from glancing at his phone every few minutes, his mind racing with thoughts of what might happen next.

When his phone finally buzzed with a new message, he nearly knocked over his coffee in his haste to grab it.

''How about tomorrow night?"

Jungwon smiled, his heart doing that weird, excited flutter again. He quickly typed back a confirmation, his fingers moving almost on their own as he set the plan in motion.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He spent most of it thinking about the dinner. Part of him was still nervous, still unsure of how to navigate these new feelings, but another part—a bigger part— was excited. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to spend time with you.

By the time the day rolled around, Jungwon found himself standing outside your dorm, nervously rubbing his hands together as he leaned against his car, the soft glow of the evening lights reflecting on his face. His mind was spinning with anticipation, wondering how the night would go.

"Jungwon!"

The sound of your voice instantly pulled him from his thoughts. His head turned in your direction, and for a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

There you were, walking toward him in the simplest of dresses—a light pastel that flowed effortlessly with the breeze. It wasn't flashy or overly formal, but in Jungwon's eyes, it was like the world had frozen just to capture this moment.

His breath hitched as he took in every detail—the way your hair swayed with each step, the soft smile on your face, and how the gentle evening light highlighted your features.

There was something so natural yet mesmerizing about you. You weren't just the girl he had known from years ago; you really had matured, grown into someone even more beautiful than he had imagined. His heart stirred, beating a rhythm he hadn't quite felt before.

"Something's wrong?" You asked in confusion with his sudden stillness.

Jungwon snapped back to reality, quickly composing himself before flashing a warm smile.

"You... you look beautiful tonight" Jungwon said, his voice slightly betraying his nerves. He looked down to cleared his throat, missing the way you blushed with his compliment.

Jungwon stepped forward and opened the car door for you, his movements gentle and deliberate.

"Shall we?" he asked, still feeling the lingering effects of seeing you in a new light.

As you stepped into the car, Jungwon couldn't help but let his gaze linger just a second longer, feeling that unfamiliar flutter in his chest once more.

The evening was pleasant, with the sound of your laughter filling the air as you caught up on everything that had happened since you last spoke.

Jungwon found himself smiling more than he had in a while, but there was something he couldn't shake—the weight of the questions he had buried for so long.

As the conversation drifted, he saw the way you fiddled with the napkin in your hand, your eyes dropping to the table for a moment.

He knew that look. You were nervous, maybe even hesitant, and his heart tightened in anticipation.

He had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

"Jungwon," you started, your voice soft, almost unsure. He immediately turned his full attention to you, his heart beating a little faster. "I wanted to apologize... for suddenly losing contact with you back then."

There it was.

Jungwon's chest tightened, but he didn't show it. He smiled softly, nodding, trying to ease the tension.

"It's okay," he said, meaning it. He didn't want to make this harder for you than it already was. "People grow apart sometimes... but, if it's not too much to ask—" he hesitated, feeling selfish for even bringing it up, but he had to know.

"Is it okay to know why?"

He watched as you expression shifted, the light in your eyes dimming slightly. You looked down, fidgeting with you napkin again, and for a moment, he thought you might actually tell him the truth. But then you gave a small laugh, almost forced, and shrugged.

"I guess I was just...really busy" You nervously laugh "School, life, you know. It all kind of caught up with me."

Jungwon smiled, but deep down, he know that wasn't it. Not the whole truth, anyway.

He knows.

He has always known.

When you stopped talking to him, when you disappeared from his life, he has sensed there was going on. The way you had distanced yourself felt deliberate, and it hurt more than he could admit.

But what really gave it away was the gifts—the little care packages, the foods, and sticky notes filled with motivational puns and quotes accompanied with cute doodles.

He had always suspected it was you. No one else would gone out of their way to make sure he was taken care of, not like you had.

The moment you stopped talking to him, those small, thoughtful gestures had stopped too. He has noticed, and the pieces had fallen into place.

But he didn't push it. Not then, and not now.

He nodded again, forcing his smile to stay in place even though part of him was disappointed. "I understand," he said quietly. "I'm just glad we're talking again."

And he meant that.

He was happy to have you back in his life, even if there was still questions unanswered. He wouldn't force you to explain what had really happened. You had your reason, and he respected that.

But deep down, he couldn't help but hope that one day, you'd tell him. One day, you'd trust him again to share the real reason you had pulled away.

For now, though, Jungwon take what he could get. He wouldn't push, because having you here, across from him, was enough.

It was more than enough.

Chapter Ten

After the dinner, your friendship with Jungwon began to feel like it had slipped back into the comfortable rhythm it had in high school.

The awkwardness of lost time seemed to melt away, replaced by an easy companionship.

Whenever you both had free time, you found yourselves spending it together—catching dinners, window shopping, or simply grabbing snacks for a quick break.

This time, it was Jungwon's idea to got to the movies after he learned you were eager to see the latest release in a series you'd both followed.

The two of you sat through the film, laughing at the same parts and exchanging quiet comments, surrounding the both of you with warm and familiar atmosphere.

As you sat in the car on the way back, a thought crossed your mind. Jungwon had been spending so much time with you lately, always eager to hang out, always suggesting things to do.

It made you wonder.

Did he have other friends?

Friends he shared these kinds of moments with?

You hesitated for a moment before asking. "So... do you hang out like this with your other friends?"

Jungwon glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the road, his brows slightly raised at the question.

"Friends?" He repeated, as if to make sure he heard you right. You nodded, curiosity getting the better of you.

"I mean, I do have friends" he said, shrugging slightly. "But they don't really like doing this kind of stuff."

The answer surprised you a little, and it made you wonder something else. You knew he was good-looking, kind, and had that natural charm about him.

Surely, he'd had a girlfriend at some point, right?

But before you could ask directly, you found yourself hesitating.

Was that too personal?

You didn't want to pry but the curiosity kills you at the moment.

"I'm sure you've done these things with a girl before, though..." You said it casually, hoping it wouldn't sound too invasive, your gaze shifting out the window to avoid his reaction.

To you surprise, Jungwon chuckled softly. "No, not really."

Your head snapped toward him in shock. "Really?" The disbelief in your voice was clear.

Jungwon nodded, his expression calm and sincere. "Yeah, I've never had a girlfriend."

You blinked, trying to process that. Jungwon? Never had a girlfriend?

It was hard to believe, given how many girls had swooned over him back in high school—and probably still did. He seemed so...put together.

You were at a loss for words, but Jungwon didn't seemed to mind your reaction.

"Well," he said, a playful lilt to his voice, "if you know someone, maybe you could match me up."

His suggestion caught you off guard, and suddenly, a small but sharp pang shot though your chest, like a sting you weren't expecting.

You blinked in surprise, forcing a smile, but deep down, it hurt in a way you hadn't anticipated. You didn't understand why.

Why did the idea of introducing him to someone else—someone who might catch his interest—bother you so much?

The thought of seeing him with another girl, laughing, and sharing the same moments the two of you had been enjoying lately, made something inside of you twist.

Quickly, you shook your head. "I don't think I can do that." you said, trying to keep your voice casual.

Jungwon seemed confused for a moment. "Why not?" he asked, his tone still playful, unaware of the strange ache his words had caused.

You bit your lip, searching for an excuse. "I don't know any women around your age," you finally said, managing to sound nonchalant. "Most of my friends are close to my age."

It was true; you were twenty-two years old, surrounded by a vibrant group of friends your age, all still navigating the ups and downs of college life together. Your felt sense of comfort and camaraderie among them, but when it came to Jungwon, everything was different.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would actually consider dating someone younger. Surely, a guy like him would be interested in a women who were around his age—twenty-seven or older, women who had their lives more figured out than you did.

Jungwon fell silent for a moment, as if considering your response. Then, with a soft smile, his voice quieter, more serious than before said,

"Around your age, huh?" He looked at you, and there was something in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

"I'm fine with that."

His words hug in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. There was something about the way he said it—something gentle but also bold, like he was hinting at something more.

The pain that you felt earlier sudden disappeared, totally gone like it didn't happen, only to be replaced with a quick beat of your heart and warmth spreading across you cheeks.

Was he... implying something?

You looked away, quickly, trying to steady yourself. Your thought were suddenly racing, a strange fluttering sensation stirring in your stomach. You weren't sure how to respond, or if you even should.

A part of you wanted to brush it off as causal banter, but the way he had look at you made it had to dismiss.

And then there was your heart, beating a little faster, making you wonder if maybe just maybe, this was more than just two old friend reconnecting.

As the weeks passed, your time with Jungwon grew more frequent and comfortable. Each outing felt like a glimpse into a friendship that had been rekindled, a spark that had never truly gone out.

You found yourselves laughing more often, sharing more stories, and creating new memories that felt just as precious as those from high school.

Being with Jungwon very often can't help but make you realize some moments that made you wonder if there was something more between you two.

During a spontaneous lunch one afternoon, Jungwon had leaned closer, whispering a joke that made your stomach flutter.

The way he looked at you sometimes, with that gentle smile and twinkling eyes, sent your heart racing.

Sometimes, you caught him watching you with fondness when you laughed, his gaze lingering a little too long, and each time you felt an electric thrill dance down your spine.

One day, as you were both walking through a local park, he playfully nudged you with his shoulder and said, "You know, I really like spending time with you. You make everything more fun."

You brushed it off, laughing it off lightly, but inside, your mind was racing.

Was he just being friendly? Or was there something deeper behind those words?

Then, one evening, everything took a turn. Your dorm experienced a power outrage, leaving you with no way to study for your major exam the next day. You felt a wave of panic wash over you. You needed to review, and the library was already closed.

However, Jungwon didn't hesitate to invite you to his apartment after hearing your situation.

"It's no big deal," he assured you, his voice warm and inviting. "I'll inform your parents and Ni-ki."

His last words gives you so much assurance to accept his kind offer.

Once inside his apartment, you immediately settled in at his dining table, books sprawled out around you. You tried to focus, flipping through your notes and practice problems, but the anxiety of the impeding exam loomed over you like a storm cloud.

As the minutes turned into an hour, you found yourself staring blankly at a particularly difficult math problem, your frustration mouthing with each failed attempt to solve it.

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. The numbers seemed to blur together, and your concentration slipped further away.

Jungwon passed by but quickly halted when he saw your miserable expression.

"You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

You sighed dramatically. "I'm fine, just struggling with this problem"

He stepped closer, brow furrowed as he glanced at the paper in front of you. "Want me to take a look?"

Before you could respond, he pulled up a chair beside you, towel still draped around his neck from a shower, water droplets glistening in his tousled hair.

You couldn't help but stare, feeling a rush of warmth in your cheeks.

There was something effortlessly charming about him, even in such a casual state.

As he leaned over to see your work, your heart raced. It felt so nostalgic, the way he was explaining the problem to you, reminiscent of those afternoons in middle school when he'd patiently guided you through your studies. His voice was calm and reassuring, and you found yourself hanging on his every word.

But then, something on the table caught your eye. There, beside your notes, was the mug you had gifted him ages ago—the one with the garden design that reminded of you of his name.

The very reason you had stopped sending him gifts and pulled away.

The sight of the mug stirred something within you, a mix of nostalgia and warmth.

He kept it?

I thought his friends don't like it?

"Hey, is this the problem you're stuck on?" Jungwon's voice snapped you back to the present, his brow raised in curiosity.

"Yeah," you admitted, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the emotions swirling inside you. "I just can't wrap my head around it."

He studied the problem for a moment before his fingers brushed against yours as he pointed to the paper. You felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, and your heart raced again. Jungwon's closeness, his focus on you, everything felt changed with an energy you couldn't ignore.

"This part is tricky," he explained, his voice steady and clear. "But if you look at it this way..."

As he walked you through the steps, you felt a sense of comfort was over you. His presence was calming, and the way he spoke made everything feel manageable.

You focused on him, on the way his eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he explained the concepts. You were reminded once more of how much you valued not just his help but his company.

And as he continued, something deeper began to stir within you, a growing awareness of your feelings. It was becoming increasingly clear that your feelings for Jungwon didn't die down, not a single thing.

You were still in love with him.

And seeing that mug, healed something inside of you.

As you worked through the problem Jungwon had just explained, you could feel his presence lingering beside you. He hadn't left your side after finishing his explanation, and though he was silent, you couldn't share the feeling of his gaze on you. Your eyes stayed fixed on your notebook, but the heat in your cheeks grew as you became increasingly aware of him.

You stole a quick glance from the corner of your eye, and your heart skipped a beat.

Jungwon had his head resting on his arm, lying on the table just inches away, his eyes soft as he watched you. He looked so at ease, but there was a gentleness in his gaze that made your pulse race. His other arm lay near the open notebook, as if he was still ready to help but, at the moment, was more focused on you than on the math problem in front of him.

Feeling flustered, you looked down again, trying to concentrate on the numbers, but his gaze felt as tangible as a touch. You shifted in your seat, forcing yourself to refocus, yet you could still feel him looking at you, and it was making you incredibly self-conscious.

When you finally turned to him, cheeks flushed, you managed to stammer, "I-Is something wrong?"

Jungwon chuckled softly, lifting his head just a little to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, warm, and it made you freeze. He smiled, his voice a quite murmur, "Yeah, you look beautiful today."

Your heart immediately fluttered and a rush of warmth filling your chest as his words sank in. He kept his gaze steady on you, his expression unwavering and full of something that made you breathless.

"And it makes my heart go crazy," he added, leaning back slightly but never breaking eye contact. His eyes held a playful glint, but there was also something deeper, more serious.

You felt your cheeks grow even warmer as your tore your gaze away, attempting to hide the way his words affected you.

"D-don't be ridiculous," you mumbled, trying to downplay the fluttering in your stomach, even though you were sure he could see right through you.

Jungwon's smile widened, clearly amused by your reaction. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed," he teased, and you shot him a look of mock annoyance, though your blush betrayed you.

"Stop distracting me, I'm trying to study," you replied, attempting to sound stern but failing miserably as you couldn't help but smile.

Jungwon leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, still watching you with that soft look. "Alright, alright, I'll behave. But hey," he added, his tone becoming more thoughtful, "after your exam, if you're free, maybe we can go out and celebrate? Just the two of us?"

You met his gaze, your heart skipping a beat at the hint of excitement in his eyes.

"Yeah," you replied, smiling shyly, "I'd like that."

He nodded, seeming pleased, and you noticed a spark in his expression, ad if he'd already made up his mind about something.

He turned his attention back to your notebook, giving you space to study, but you could still feel the warmth of his lingering presence. It felt comforting, steady and you couldn't help but feel that this moment was the beginning of something more.

After days of studying and pouring all your energy into the exam, the moment finally arrived. As you left the exam room, a wave of relied washed over you.

You'd given it your all, and now, the excitement of the evening with Jungwon took over your thoughts. He'd promised a celebration, and you were determined to make it one worth remembering, regardless of the results.

You met him outside, where he greeted you with a warm smile. "Ready?" he asked, his eyes shining with anticipation.

You nodded, and he led you to a narrow spiral staircase that wound up the side of a building. Just as you reached the base, he extended his hands, gently holding yours to guide you up. You felt your cheeks warm at the touch, but his grip was steady and reassuring.

He seemed to sense your nerves, giving your hand a slight squeeze as you climbed the stairs together.

When you finally reached the top, you gasped at the sight ahead of you.

Spread across the rooftop was a cozy setup: a blanket laid out under a canopy of string lights that twinkled like stars, a small table with a cake and some snacks, and a perfect view of the city skyline glowing against the evening sky. The lights of the city stretched out before you, painting a breathtaking scene.

Turning to Jungwon, you felt a surge of emotions welling up. He'd gone through so much trouble for this moment, and you hadn't even received your exam result yet.

"Jungwon... you didn't have to do all this," you said, your voiced tinged with both gratitude and a bit of worry.

"But I wanted to," he replied softly, meeting your gaze. There was sincerity in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You worked so hard. You deserve a celebration, no matter what."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, and you both walked over to the edge of the rooftop, where you settled by the railing. As you admired the view, you found yourselves talking easily—about your exam, Jungwon's latest projects at work, and everything in between.

The conversation was light, punctuated with laughter, and the atmosphere felt intimate and warm.

As you finished a bite of cake, Jungwon suddenly cleared his throat, drawing your attention. He seemed a little nervous, which was unusual for him, and it made you raise an eyebrow curiously.

"So," he began, a small smile playing on his lips, "you said last time that someone was recently trying to get your attention, right?" You nodded, confirming that someone from another department in your college was indeed trying to pursue you. "What happened with that?"

"I turned him down. I don't have any feelings for him, and I felt bad letting him continue pursuing me without any feelings on my part. I might lead him on and waste his time." You took another bite, savoring the sweetness as Jungwon watched you intently. "Besides, I was too busy with school."

"So, if you weren't busy," he said, a bit more casually, "what kind of guy would you go for?"

You thought for a moment, pretending to consider it seriously. "Well... he'd have to be handsome," you said with playful grin, watching as Jungwon subtly brushed a hand through his hair, giving you a self-assured smile in response.

"Good temper?" he asked, as if he was mentally checking off boxes.

"Definitely," you agreed. " And he'd have to be at least this tall." You raised you hand above your head, gesturing a bit higher than his height.

With a chuckle, Jungwon straightened straightened his posture, lifting his chin proudly to meet the mark.

You giggled at his antics, playfully nudging him. "And, of course, he should be kind."

Jungwon looked thoughtful as he turned his gaze to the city lights. After a brief pause, he glanced back at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"You know..." he paused, nervous starting creeping up on him.

"...I think I possess the qualities you mentioned."

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze, fork halfway to your mouth. His eyes held yours, and he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

"That's why I wanted to ask you..." He hesitated, his tone suddenly soft and serious. "Can I be the man who gets to be part of your life? To stand by your side, to laugh with you... to make you smile like this?"

You stared at him, feeling an overwhelming mix of emotions. Jungwon was offering you something you'd dreamed of, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

For a moment, you felt like you were floating in a dream.

The boy you'd admired since middle school, the one who had occupied your thought through the years, the one who you silently cheering on the sidelines when he practicing for a football game, the one you effortlessly make pack gifts to cheer him up during game season... was here, confessing that he felt the same way.

It was the kind of moment you'd only ever imagined, a quiet hope you'd carried through so many stages of your life, never quite believing it would come true.

Your heart raced as you took it all in—the warmth in his gaze, the way he looked at you with such tenderness. It was like you were suspended in a beautiful, beautiful, fragile dream, and a small part of you feared that if you moved or spoke, you might wake up, and this moment slip away.

But it was real, he was real.

And he was right here, waiting for you, giving you the space to breath and to let the reality of his words sink in.

You felt a spark that immediately sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he reached for your hand and caressed it gently. He gave you a soft smile and continued, "You don't have to answer me right away. Take your time, okay? I just wanted you to know how I feel."

You could feel your checks warming, your pulse quickening, but there was a sense of calm that washed over you too. You squeeze his hand as you managed to whisper,

"Just so you know... the feeling is mutual."

Jungwon's face lit up with a soft, genuine smile, with his dimple deepening that you really love. You felt his thumb brushing over you knuckles that sent another waves of butterflies on your stomach.

He seemed content with the simple connection, knowing that there was no rush, and that the possibility of something beautiful had just begun to unfold between you.

The two of you continued to talk, your words filled with quite hopes and lingering glances.

Jungwon felt a quiet contentment settle within him, knowing he could now pursue you openly, with no reservations—only the pure, genuine love and admiration he held for you, hoping that his feelings would eventually find their way to your heart.

The days that followed Jungwon's quiet confession felt like a gentle unfolding of a dream you hadn't realized could be real.

True to his word, he started showing you, in every little way possible, how much he cared. From bringing you coffee on mornings when he knew you had early classes, to waiting for you outside the library after late study sessions, his gestures were sweet, consistent, and undeniably meaningful.

He was there with small surprises—an extra jacket when he noticed you'd forgotten yours, or a quick note tucked into your notebook remining you to take a break. And every time you looked up, he'd be watching with that soft, affectionate gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

It wasn't just the small gestures, either. When he found out you'd been stressing about an upcoming presentation, he organized a mini study session at his place, complete with snacks and calming playlist. And when he saw how nervous you were, he even practiced with you, listening intently, giving you feedback, and reassuring you that you were more than capable.

His consistency, his warmth, and the way he openly showed how much he liked you made you felt cherished in a way you hadn't expected.

And now, after a long day out together—an impromptu dinner date that had him sneaking you off to his favorite hidden restaurant—Jungwon was walking you back to your dorm.

His fingers were intertwined with yours, his thumb gently brushing against you knuckles as you both strolled through the quiet campus, sharing laughs and reliving moment from your date.

All of that with your pink purse dangling on his shoulder, a sight that made you giggle at how casually he carried it unbothered by how girly it looked on him. He wore it with a smile, squeezing your hand every now and then, as if to reassure you that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

As you strolled through the quite campus, your phone suddenly rang, and when you glanced down, you saw it was Ni-ki.

You answered immediately, expecting his usual check-in, half expecting his usual teasing tone, but instead, his voice came through dark and uncharacteristically stern.

"Have you arrived at your dorm?" he asked, and the strictness in his voice made you pause.

You glanced up at Jungwon, who squeezed your hand reassuringly, his warm smile grounding you. "Almost," you replied softly, trying to keep the peace.

"What's the matter?" you asked, hoping to keep things light.

There was a pause, and the Ni-ki's voice lowered even more. "There's a girl holding hands with a guy on campus right now..."

You were confused at what your brother saying, but his next word felt like someone throw an ice bucket over your head.

"that's you, right?"

You froze mid-step, your heart dropping as you realized what he was implying.

Jungwon stopped too, looking at you with a slight tilt of his head, concern flickering in his eyes. Your mind raced as you glanced around, searching for any sign of your brother.

And then, like a scene straight our of a dramatic movie, you spotted him—Ni-ki, walking towards you with dark expression, his phone still on his ear, eyes fixed on your intertwined hands with a cold expression that made your blood run cold.

"Riki-nii..." you whispered, pulling your hand back from Jungwon's, though he gave you a soft, reassuring look, his calm presence keeping you grounded even as a wave of worry swept over you.

A few moments later, Ni-ki was by your side, his gaze cold and intense as he sized up the situation.

Without a word, he took your purse from Jungwon's shoulder and held it firmly, then mentioned for you to walk with him. "Come on," he muttered, not giving Jungwon a glance.

You gave Jungwon an apologetic look as Ni-ki led you forward, your brother's silent insistence making it clear he wasn't in the mood to talk just yet.

Jungwon followed a few steps behind, hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw clenched but his eyes softened whenever you glanced back.

After a few moments of walking, you finally broke the silence. "I was going to tell you, Nii-san. I just wanted to make sure.... that you'd understand" you said softly, hoping he'd listened.

Ni-ki only gave you a sharp glare. "Understand? You could've given me a heads-up before I caught you sneaking around like this." He looked straight ahead, his face set in a stern expression, guiding you toward your dorm.

You sighed, trying to reason with him as you matched his stride. "We're not even together yet, Riki-nii. I didn't hide anything—"

But Ni-ki cut you off, thrusting your purse back into your hands as you reached your dorm's entrance. "Get inside," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Nini, please..." you tried, feeling helpless as he kept his gaze away from you, his tone rigid. It felt as though the brother you knew, the one who always teased and protected you, had been replaced by a stern stranger.

Just as you were about to turn to Jungwon for some support, he stepped forward, his warm hand reaching for your elbow, his touch calming you instantly. You looked up, meeting his soft, understanding eyes as he gave you a gentle smile.

"You should go inside," he said kindly, his thumb grazing your arm soothingly. "It's already dark, and you have classes tomorrow."

You hesitated, glancing between Jungwon and your brother, not wanting to leave them like this. "But..."

Jungwon leaned in, his hand moving up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch calming despite the tension between you and your brother.

"I can handle this, okay? Don't worry." He spoke with a calm assurance, his gaze never wavering, and though you still felt anxious, his words helped settle your nerves.

Reluctantly, you nodded, giving Ni-ki one last pleading look, but he remained stoic, his gaze unwavering.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked inside, glancing back one last time. You watched as Ni-ki and Jungwon turned and began to walk, their figures disappearing into the night.

The sight left a lingering ache in your chest, but the look in Jungwon's eyes reassured you that he would handle it.

You trusted Jungwon, and deep down, you hoped Ni-ki would see thins your way... eventually.

The silence between Jungwon and Ni-ki was thick, almost suffocating, as they made their way to the empty park under a dim glow of streetlights.

Jungwon felt his heart racing, the gravity of the situation sinking in with each step. He knew he was in the wrong for not speaking to Ni-ki first, for not even realizing that what he shared with you would hit his best friend this deeply.

He knew he should have asked Ni-ki's permission before pursuing you, especially since you meant so much to him. He understood the hurt and sense of betrayal Ni-ki must be feeling, after all, they were best friends, and here he was, holding onto a secret that concerned his sister.

When they stopped, Ni-ki remained with his back turned to Jungwon, his stance tense, fists clenched at his sides. Jungwon opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Ni-ki whipped around and swung a punch that landed square on his jaw, sending him stumbling back.

Pain shot through him, and he clutched his cheek, catching his breath. He barely had time to steady himself when another punch connected with his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

He doubled over, coughing as he tasted blood on his lip. Despite the pain, he didn't try to defend himself. He knew Ni-ki needed this release, needed to let out the anger and betrayal he felt.

If this was what it took for him to listen, Jungwon would endure it.

He braced himself, expecting another blow, but instead, Ni-ki took a deep, frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair, as though he was trying to collect himself.

"Jungwon," Ni-ki's voice was hoarse with anger, "I don't care if you date someone younger. I don't care if you date someone who isn't in our circle. But why... why does it have to be my sister?" His voice broke a little, caught between fury and something close to betrayal.

"Out of all the girls who chase after you, why did it have to be her?"

Jungwon opened his mouth, but Ni-ki held up a hand, demanding silence. There was so much pain in his friend's eyes, and Jungwon knew that if he tried to defend himself now, Ni-ki wouldn't be able to hear him. So he waited, fists still clenched, willing himself to listen, to let Ni-ki's anger run its course.

Ni-ki's voice dropped, his words cutting like a knife. "Tell me, are you the reason she moved here? Are you the reason she wanted to study in this city?" The accusation hit like another blow, and Jungwon shook his head in confusion, trying to process what Ni-ki was saying.

"My sister... she's liked you since middle school, Jungwon" Ni-ki continued, his voice shaking with something deeper than anger. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Do you think I didn't see it—that you were the reason she insisted on having you as her tutor?”

Jungwon blinked, taken a aback. He'd known that you were gifted in physics, but he'd brushed it off as you just being a fast learner.

But the idea, that you had pretend to need help just to be around him—made his heart ache with mix of regret and tenderness.

Ni-ki let out a bitter, humorless chuckle. "She didn't need tutoring. She was already brilliant in physics. But she wanted to help you because she likes you, Jungwon. She went out of her way for you, all without expecting anything in return." His voice softened just a bit, and Jungwon could see the pain hidden behind Ni-ki's anger.

"Do you know how hard it is to watch someone you care about quietly sacrifice for someone else?"

Jungwon felt warmth spread through him at Ni-ki's words, realizing just how deeply you had cared for him, even he hadn't deserved it. You'd gone to all this effort, all the while hiding your own feelings, and now...

Now he'd understood why he was drawn to you, why his own feelings had shifted.

You'd shown him a quiet, steady love, even when he hadn't seen it.

Finally, Jungwon met Ni-ki's gaze, eyes filled with sincerity. "I didn't know, Ni-ki. I swear, I had no ideas she liked me. I thought she was just being kind, trying to help me without any other reason. But now that I know...I can't see her that way anymore. She's become so much more to me."

Ni-ki clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he stared hard at Jungwon, trying to decide if he could believe him.

"You don't deserve my sister, Jungwon" He said, bitterness lacing his words.

The statement hit Jungwon hard, a painful truth that he felt in the core of his being. He understood—you were someone precious, someone worth protecting. Maybe Ni-ki was right, maybe he didn't serve you.

You deserved someone who would give you nothing less than the world.

But that was exactly why he couldn't walk away. He had to prove that he could be the one to give you that.

"I know," Jungwon admitted, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "i know I don't deserve her—not yet. She's kind, selfless, and she deserves someone who can measure up to that. But please...give me a chance to prove myself." He swallowed, his gaze unwavering as he Ni-ki's eyes. "Let me prove to you, and to her, tat I can be the person she deserves. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll earn her trust—and yours—if you give me the chance."

His voice softened, tinged with quite desperation. " I want to be the one who protects her, who supports he. I want to worthy of her, Ni-ki. I may not be there yet, but I'll work every day to become that person. I swear it."

There was silence, the weight of Jungwon's hanging heavy between them. He hoped Ni-ki could see the honestly in his eyes, could feel how much this meant to him. Jungwon knew he couldn't erase past or change how things had unfolded, be he could promise one thing—

that he would never take your love or trust for granted.

"Please," Jungwon continued, his voice voice barely above a whisper, "I love her, Ni-ki. Just give me a chance to show you that I'm worthy of her."

A flicker of doubt crossed Ni-ki's face, and then something shifted.

The hardness in his gaze softened, even if only slightly, as he let out long, frustrated breath. Deep down, Ni-ki knew Jungwon was a good guy. He'd always trusted him with almost everything.

And maybe, as much he hated to admit it, he was a little relieved it was Jungwon and not some stranger he couldn't trust.

"You have one chance, Jungwon," Ni-ki muttered, his voice still sharp but with a trace of reluctant acceptance. "If you mess this up...if you break her heart... I will personally make your life hell. I will destroy you. Do you understand?"

Jungwon nodded, feeling a mix of relief and respect. He straightened, ignoring the ache in his bruised face and stomach, and met Ni-ki's eyes. "I understand. And I promise, I won't let you down."

They stood in silence for a moment, tension slowly giving way to uneasy truce. Ni-ki's glare softened just a bit, though he couldn't completely mask the protective worry lingering in his gaze.

"Don't make me regret this, Jungwon," Ni-ki said, the threat clear but a hint of acceptance in his voice.

"I won't," Jungwon replied, feeling a newfound determination. For you, and for Ni-ki he'd make sure of it.

Back in your dorm room, you can't help but pace back and forth, your mind whirling with worry. Every possible scenario runs through your head, each one making your heart race faster.

You can only imagine what your brother and Jungwon might be discussing right now. Would Ni-ki react calmly, or would his protectiveness take over, sparking a fight?

You've seen him play the role of the overprotective brother before, but this time feels different, heavier.

You pause by the window, chewing your lip as you stare out at the quiet campus, your chest tightening with guilt. You know you should have told Ni-ki about your feelings for Jungwon earlier. You've heard your brother's opinions on dating enough to know that your relationship with Jungwon—his best friend, of all people—might feel like a betrayal.

The last thing you want is to be the reason they grow cold toward each other.

An hour passes, your anxious pacing only making your heart pound harder. Eventually, unable to stand the silence any longer, you grab your keys and decided to go to Jungwon's apartment, hoping he's already back. You need to see him, to know what happened, and—if nothing else—to make sure he's okay.

When you reach his apartment and knock, he open the door, and your heart drops at the sight of him. There's a fresh bruise darkening his cheek, and another on his jaw. He gives you a small, apologetic smile, but the sight of his injuries makes your concern turn to anger in an instant.

"Did Riki-nii do this to you?" you ask, voice shaking with fury. "I'm going to give my brother a piece of my mind"

Before you can turn to leave, Jungwon catches your wrist, pulling you back. "Hey, hey it's okay," he says softly, his voice soothing. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

You narrow your eyes, a scowl replacing your earlier worry. "No, you're not fine! Look at you! I trusted him to talk things out, not..." You gesture to his face, a frustrated huff escaping you. "I'm going over there. He has no right—"

Your words were cut off when Jungwon pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as though your presence was all he needed to feel grounded. For a moment, the world quiets, and you feel his steady breaths matching yours, calming you.

"Please," he murmurs. "Don't be mad at him. We already talked it out, everything's okay now."

Your heart softens, but a part of you is still bristling with protectiveness for him. He watches your face, a gentle smile curving his lips, as if he can see the conflict within you. After a beat, you sigh and nod, choosing to trust him.

Once inside, you sit him down and grab a washcloth, dabbing it gently over the bruise on his cheek. Your touch is light, your fingers trembling slightly with worry.

Jungwon watches you in silence, his eyes soft, filled with something warm and unspoken. As you concentrate on his face, he feels a pang in his chest, remembering what Ni-ki had said:

You don't deserve her.

He lets out a sigh, breaking the quiet. "Your brother's right, you know," he murmurs almost to himself. "I don't deserve you."

Your hand freezes, and you look up, frowning. "Stop saying that." Despite everything Jungwon told you about his talk with Ni-ki, the thought of your brother's words cutting him like this makes anger simmer beneath your skin again. "I swear, if he made you feel—"

Jungwon chuckles softly, his eyes filled with affection as he reached for your hand, resting it against his bruised cheek, and leaned into her your touch, cherishing the warmth you gave, with his thump brushing over your knuckles.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" His gaze holds yours, tender and vulnerable. "How did I not see it before? All those years, I was so blind."

You shake your head, thumb tracing his cheek gently. "Don't blame yourself. I never wanted you to feel burdened by what I felt. I just...wanted you to know."

He holds your gaze, his own eyes soft with a mixture of regret and wonder. "You've always treated me better than I deserve, "he says quietly. "Whether it was back then or now, you've always seen the best in me." His voice drops to a whisper. "Maybe I don't deserve you , but I'm going to spend every day trying to."

Your heart skips a beat, and before you can reply, he leans in, his eyes searching yours. "Y/n," he breathes. "I love you."

The words send a shiver down your spine, your heart swelling as his confession sinks in. "Jungwon..." you whisper, voice with emotion.

"I'm sorry I took so long to say it," he continues, his gaze steady and full of sincerity. "I know I made you wait, that I hurt you without even realizing it. But because of you, I finally saw the truth. You deserve someone who will appreciate you fully—and I promise, I won't let you regret the choice you made."

Tears well up in your eyes as his words wrap around you heart, warm and reassuring. You've always struggled to find the right words, to articulate the depth of what you feel, but as you look into his eyes, you realize that you don't need to say anything.

Without another word, you lean forward, closing the distance between you, and press your lips to his in a gentle, lingering kiss. He responds immediately, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you close as he kisses you with a tenderness that speaks of all the feelings he's been holding back.

It's soft, unhurried, a shared breath that feels like both an answer and a promise. In this single, heartfelt moment, everything you've held in silence, every hope, and every dream, finds its voice.

When you finally pull apart, foreheads still touching, he whispers, "How did I get so lucky?"

You smile, cheeks flushed, heart full, feeling like this moment was worth every hidden glance, every unspoken word. It feels like all those moments—years of quietly loving him, of small sacrifices he never even knew—were leading up to this.

You think back to middle school, how you'd linger at the edge of the field after school, cheering for him at his football games, hidden among the crowd so he wouldn't see the way your heart skipped with each play he made. Ever packed snack, every energy drink left "by accident" on his locker, was your way of showing care without a word spoken.

You'd insisted on become his tutor student, it wasn't because you needed help but to help him with his financial struggles, the extra weight he carried, and wanting to ease that burden in any way you could. Being his student gave you a reason to stay close, a way to support him without making him feel like he was in your debt.

It was never about him noticing; it was simply about making his days a little easier, seeing him smile a little brighter, and knowing you could play a part in it.

You used to wonder if loving someone silently was enough, if perhaps it was the purest form of love because there was no expectation, no demand, only quiet affection. And even though you thought it might go unrequited, your heart found joy in seeing him happy, whether he knew your feelings or not.

But now, as he stand before you, gazing back at you with the same depth and warmth you've felt for so long, fate seems has a way of hearing those hidden hopes, granting the quite wishes of a gentle heart.

Perhaps it was that purity of your love, the unwavering care you showed him, that allowed your feelings to reach him. All those moments you held your love back now feels like steps that led you to this moment—a moment that feels so much deeper because of all the waiting, all the silent sacrifices.

You realize that your patience, your quite devotion, has come back to you tenfold.

In this moment, Jungwon's love feels like it wraps around every hidden hope you held in your heart, filling in the spaces that were left waiting, growing over time. He sees you now—not just the present-day you, but the younger girl who quietly cheered him on, the one who made excuses to give him snacks, who silently offered help when he needed it most.

There's a quiet strength in his gaze, a tenderness that assures you that he won't just take your love for granted, as if he's promising not just to return your love but to honor it, to protect it with commitment that will last.

And you know now that he'll hold your heart with the same care you held for his all those years.

You feel complete.

Like you've finally come home to the love you've always longed for, only to find it more beautiful than you'd ever dared to dream.

As his hand lingers against you cheek, a soft smile on his lips, you know that his love for you is rooted not just in passion but in gratitude, in awe of the patience you showed.

His love isn't just a response; it's a promise—a promise to take care of your heart the way you took care of his, and to make you feel loved every day from here on out.

In his gaze, you can see the same warmth you've held for so long, a warmth that reflects back to you, returned and magnified. Your heart is no longer alone in its silent longing; it had found a partner in him, one who will carry it carefully.

'I might have loved Jungwon too early,' you think to yourself as you take in the softness in his eyes.

But he loved you at the perfect time.

269 notes · View notes

cyberclouddream · 4 months ago

Text

What You Tend to Use Social Media For

Things we tend to seek and/or share on social media. Recommend looking for Mercury first. Also, whichever sign rules over your 11th House, look for whichever house that sign naturally rules over, e.g. Cancer/4H, Sagittarius/9H, Libra/7H, Aquarius/11H.

Gemini/Mercury in the 1st House

- to show off your personality traits and quirks, what makes you interesting

- fashion updates, like outfit and style experiments

- sharing mundane daily activities

- to create a particular public image

- instant reactions to events or trending topics

- to use your humor or wit to attract followers or engagement

- creating FOMO, lmao

- to experiment with social media trends

- to post controversial topics/challenge norms

- to seek likes and comments for self-esteem boosts

Gemini/Mercury in the 2nd House

- personal finance hacks or budgeting advice

- to post luxury items or flaunt purchases

- personal value discussion, like what’s truly important to them

- for marketing research, like judging product reviews

- promoting side hustles, businesses, or services

- to hunt for discounts or offers online

- gift ideas

- investment ideas, like stocks or crypto

Gemini/Mercury in the 3rd House

- to post about happenings in the neighborhood or community

- to engage in debates

- share updates or funny stories about family members

- post poetry, short stories, or personal anecdotes

- advertise local events or gatherings

- share educational resources or articles

- to vent about everyday frustrations

- microblogging

- posting thought-provoking questions

Gemini/Mercury in the 4th House

- family updates, like gatherings or milestones

- home projects or renovations

- childhood memories, like sharing old photos and stories

- showcase local businesses or attractions, supporting community

- personal growth experiences

- family or cultural traditions

- pet updates

- to rally support for family members

- to discuss family troubles openly

Gemini/Mercury in the 5th House

- post artwork, crafts, or performances

- date night ideas, like romantic spots

- parenting chronicles, lol

- viral social media challenges

- highlight hobbies or interests

- celebrate achievements

- flirtation, online dating

- promote fun activities

- encouraging others to participate in events or projects

Gemini/Mercury in the 6th House

- how to manage stress or workload

- health hacks and wellness tips

- productivity routines

- job milestones

- fitness challenges

- volunteer opportunities

- health struggles

- day-in-the-life posts

- job market trends

Gemini/Mercury in the 7th House

- relationship status updates, like breakups or dating life

- collaborative projects

- group discussions, like conversations about issues or shared interests

- relationship advice

- event planning, like gatherings or parties

- gossiping about friends

- insights about balancing relationships and independence

- to rally support for friends in tough personal times

- asking followers for advice on relationships decisions

Gemini/Mercury in the 8th House

- sharing intimate thoughts, like fears or deep feelings

- discuss finances, like tips on managing shared resources or investments

- to explore vulnerability with intimacy and trust

- personal growth stories

- to talk about change, like life transitions and transformations

- crowdsourcing solutions

- to engage in deep conversations on profound topics

- to discuss loss, grief, and/or coping mechanisms

- to seek closure

Gemini/Mercury in the 9th House

- travel stories

- cultural insights

- education advocacy, like promoting courses or learning resources

- debating beliefs, like philosophical or political

- inspirational quotes

- global issues

- book recommendations

- sharing experiences through videos or photos

- connecting with others from diverse backgrounds

- encouraging exploration, to inspire others to step outside of comfort zones

Gemini/Mercury in the 10th House

- sharing career milestones

- networking posts, like opportunities and connections through peers

- personal branding, promoting your craft or projects

- seek career advice or industry insights

- discuss ambitions, sharing dreams and goals

- showcase participation in community

- sharing learning experiences

- work/life reflections

- to shift public perceptions, especially after setbacks

- host Q&A sessions

- mentorship opportunities or anything related to guidance/support culture

Gemini/Mercury in the 11th House

- to grow your social circle

- to join causes or charity work

- posting about community events or group outings

- share friend’s achievements and milestones

- discuss future goals, like collective ambitions and aspu

- connect with like-minded people

- to debate societal changes or movements

- to organize or participate in virtual hangouts [ like Discord, virtual worlds ]

Gemini/Mercury in the 12th House

- share personal struggles, like mental health issues or personal battles

- reflect on dreams and fantasies

- document experiences of solitude or self-discovery

- spiritual conversations, like spiritual beliefs or mystical experiences

- posting anonymously about sensitive tooics

- using creative outlets like poetry or art to convey deeper feelings

- discuss unconventional ideas

- seek support through online communities

- content related to the mysterious, like astrology or the occult

- post about reflections or meditation

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with-my-calamitous-love · 5 months ago

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BAREFOOT IN THE KITCHEN / SACRED NEW BEGINNINGS

shouto todoroki x reader

shouto makes a mental checklist of all the things he loves about his home. (you.)

inspired by cornelia street

houses and homes are two different things for many different people.

for shouto, a house was simply a structure that sheltered the most personal details of ones life. the family, the fights, the scars… a house was a place he was forced to be in, forced to grow up in. it was never happy for him.

and shouto knew his childhood house well, as if there were key signs that warned him of incoming disaster. the stillness of the house, even the old floorboards refusing to move. the sudden change of tension in the air the moment the front door opens. the lack of his siblings laughter, all hiding away from him.

the worst kinds of hurt come from the people who should be protecting you.

so he’s hesitant when it comes to getting close to people. his worst fear, now as an independent pro-hero, is going back to one of those still, tear-filled houses.

and you can’t blame him. he doesn’t know what a home is, at first.

1) home is your apartment.

first, shouto learns that home is going to your apartment after work, because he knows your fridge is actually filled and you’ll have clean towels for him to dry off. as self sufficient as he may be, he’s a youngest child at heart. that means be loves to have people to lean on- though they’re far and in between.

as he drives through the city, its as though the street lights point him in your direction. he’s completely mystified, wanting nothing more than to seek your refuge. he barely has a chance to fumble with his keys before you’re already opening the front door for him, as if you just sensed his presence.

“how was work?” he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist while you cook food on the stove. you love him when he walks out of the shower, wearing nothing but his black sweatpants with a loosely tied jaw string. his perfect muscles are glistening with water, and his hair smells like your shampoo.

he hums as he listens to you, clinging with zero interest of letting go. he loves this, and loves coming home to you after gruelling days at work. sure, his house was bigger, maybe more lavish with unreasonable monthly rent, but all of that doesn’t compare to your laughter at his shitty jokes. it pails in comparison to your favourite mug and the specific way you take your coffee. its the mundane things that make you so beautiful to him.

2) home is your cooking.

he’s used to running on an empty stomach. he doesn’t pay too much attention to his self care, despite his status and previous training. he simply just doesn’t have the time to sit down and have a proper meal, not when he has to work hard and maintain his rank.

all of that changes, however, when you begin your ritual of making soba for him every friday night. at first, he’s confused- not that its incredibly hard to make, or that it would take you that much time- no. he’s confused as to why you did it specifically for him. i mean, sure, you two are dating, and it was a really sweet gesture, but it was also so personal. you could have surprised him with flowers, or treats, or lacy lingerie, but instead you crafted the dish he loves so much.

and it tastes so good.

“your mom told me its your favourite.” you sheepishly admit, referring to the phone call you had with rei earlier. “did she?” shouto smiles, slurping up that last piece of soba eagerly. it makes him warm, knowing that you actively talk with his mom, even when he’s not around.

and she loves you, because you’re an extension of who shouto is. and he will proudly announce that to his family, wanting to share that love with others too. he wants to thank you not just for the food, but for everything else too. though he can’t quite grasp just everything you’ve done for him.

3) home is your smile.

its a no brainer that shouto has money. he grew up rich, and has become one of the most successful pro heroes to date. he loves to spoil you, because he loves seeing the way your eyes light up when he hands you a bouquet of your favourite flowers or that new book you’ve been raving about.

he’s also a man of style. he loves to buy quality clothes and comfortable fabrics, obviously for himself but more so for you. he loves seeing that the jacket around your shoulders is his, walking around in the autumn air.

“you’ll get cold.” you almost whine, but fail to make an actual protest as he leaves his long trench coat around your shoulders. you love the smell, his cologne on your skin. shouto just smiles- he’s never really been impacted by temperatures too much anyway. “its alright, beautiful. it looks better on you, anyway.”

he loves to see you basking in the summer sun, walking through the subtle crisp of autumn leaves, spring pollen making your nose scrunch up adorably, or the way the snowflakes sit on your eyelashes. he loves you all the time.

or the fancy dates he takes you out on, long nights of drinking and laughter. and he’ll happily call you two a taxi, hoping that the person on the other end of the line can excuse his happy-intoxicated slurs. you two sit in the backseat, drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar.

“you’re so cute when you’re drunk, love.”

“you’re -hic!- just as drunk as me, sho.”

“am i?”

he’s also the type to almost forget your address when the driver asks- he’s way too drunk, half off of the alcohol and half off of you.

4) home is your arguments.

familial arguments aren’t a new thing for shouto. he’s used to it- the tears, the yelling, the scars that cut deep. but for the first time, maybe ever, he doesn’t want to back his bags and leave before you even know he’s gone.

he finds himself wanting to stay, wanting to make things right. he’ll distance himself, let himself cool off before going to talk with you. he doesn’t dare to say the wrong thing, to let something slip at the heat of the moment. he needs you to know that he loves you not just through every kiss, but through every argument too. he’s here for the good and the bad.

he hates seeing you cry. your pain, the person he loves more than anything being in pain is a kind of heartbreak time could never mend. he’s terrified if you ever walk away. you’re the one person he can’t lose. absolutely not.

“i’m sorry, gorgeous.” he hums, laying down on the bed next to you. he makes it impossible to stay mad at him, for whatever has happened. you just sigh, any traces of anger disappearing when he touches you, pulling you in and forcing you to look at him. he has puppy dog eyes and doesn’t even know what they do to you- and it drives you insane. “i’m sorry too.”

you don’t say anything else, but you opt to leave a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose before drifting off to sleep in his arms. in the morning he’ll call in sick for you and bring you your coffee in bed. it doesn’t matter how stupid, how petty or how hurtful the argument was- you two will make up.

5) home is the memories you’ve made.

shouto can’t dance. and for a man who is supposedly good at everything, you find that absolutely adorable.

“am i doing this right?” he asks, holding your waist close to him as the two of you sway together. the lights are off, the soft glow of the refrigerator light illuminating the two of you like a snow globe, round and round.

you nod reassuringly, the sounds of some american singer playing on the radio. both of your bare feet creak beneath the wooden floorboards, as if the house itself was humming along to the tune.

this is your religion. and this is a sacred new beginning for shouto. the first house he had ever felt was home.

“i love you.” you whisper, getting on your tip-toes slightly to kiss his jawline. “i love you so much, darling.” he hums back, vowing to remember this moment forever.

6) home is wherever you two are, together.

he never wants to lose you. he physically, cannot lose the floorboards, the streets, and the home he’s loved you on. he’d never walk these streets again. if they don’t lead to you, they don’t lead home.

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strawberrystepmom · 1 year ago

Text

cw children, cw families. gojo and f!reader were idiots in love and they are now married and have a baby. my effortlessly good painter gojo hc won out over being normal in my brain today so yeah. reader is referred to as mom/mama/mother and princess, satoru makes a joke about readers breasts. wc 1.1k

Your morning has started far quieter than they usually do.

The day is overcast, no sunshine through your floor to ceiling bedroom windows, but you don’t mind. It feels good to embrace the cloudy days that have come with the changing of seasons, no harsh light to shock you awake. That job will be for your identical menaces in the coming months, the gummy smile of your morning person nine month old and her unabashedly obsessed father Satoru always eager to be your twin alarm clocks with their giggling and playful babbling at each other.

There’s nothing they love more than giving you the gift of four identical blue eyes blinking at you while you come to your senses every morning. You can almost admit aloud that you’ve become a morning person since becoming a parent, the delightful giggles of your daughter giving you the motivation to conquer anything and everything you can.

For today though, you wake gently, softly rolling from your side to flat on your back but something feels off. There are no hushed giggles, no silly songs being recited with children’s show host precision.

Your bed is empty and quiet and you feel…sad. Perhaps in the past you would’ve found this to be a luxury - no freakishly long limbs of your husband starfished across the bed to keep you pinned to it, no baby to tug at the earrings you forgot to take out last night, but instead it just feels like a less welcome start to the day.

Lingering in bed doesn’t feel good so you roll again, dropping your legs over the edge and sliding your feet into your waiting slippers. Scuffing across the floor, you yawn and stop in your tracks hearing voices from inside Satoru’s closet.

Well, a voice and some baby giggles, anyway.

“Can you say mama?”

Leaning against the door frame of the walk in, you stifle a laugh listening to your husband babble at his little girl who babbles back excitedly. Peeking around the corner, you see him standing in front of the portrait of you that he painted on your 24th birthday, little babe held to his chest and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“That’s her, that’s right. Your perfect mom.”

He sighs and your heart squeezes watching the two of them sway side to side, your baby who is growing into an independent toddler every day reaching out as if she recognizes your face. You’re sure she does, actually; the painting is an impeccable likeness and it still frustrates you 6 years later that he managed to become so good at a craft you’ve spent your life working on in less than a month.

Someday you’ll tell her the entire story, your version of it anyway. For now you’re content to let her father tell his side considering it was one of the most grand and romantic gestures he had performed at the time in an effort to show you how serious he was about your relationship.

“Listen, little girl,” he starts, unknowing that he has captured both of your attention. “I know I’m going to have to tell you this again eventually but do not ever bring a man or woman or anyone else into this house that loves you less than I love your mother.”

She coos at the sound of his voice and he chuckles down at her, kissing the downy white hair atop her head.

“I mean it. If they won’t stay up for four nights straight to get a start on painting your nose from memory, leave ‘em behind.”

With this, you giggle and the attention of both of your menaces is captured. Your daughter squeals from over Satoru’s shoulder, holding one little hand out and making a grabbing motion and he copies her excited babbling with his own.

“My little tricksters snuck out of bed this morning!”

Grinning, you cradle your little girl against your chest and kiss her temple, inhaling the clean smell of her shampoo and skin. She’s been bathed and everything.

“You’re the best.”

You feel the need to remind Satoru at this moment and he grins, bending to give you a good morning kiss.

“Duh.”

Giggling, you let your wiggly daughter settle herself and the three of you stand in front of the painting. You recognize the younger woman permanently captured in it, the soft lovesick look in her eyes, and it amuses you to know he took extra time to capture you exactly like that. Hopelessly in love.

He could capture you using the same medium and you’d look identical to how you did back then - utterly stricken.

“Did you really stay up practicing for four nights?”

“Princess, I stayed up practicing for four weeks.”

You snort, looking up at him from the corner of your eye.

“There’s no need to embellish now, you’ve already won me over.”

He shrugs, pulling the two of you close to his chest. He leans over his little family, cheek resting against the top of your head.

“But what if I never want to stop winning you?”

You reach up and brush his hair off of his forehead affectionately. Every touch you give him is full of love and every glance carries tenderness.

There will come a time when your daughter will be old enough to gawk at the love the two of you have for one another. Maybe she’ll stick her tongue out and roll her eyes just as you remember her father doing more than once or perhaps she’ll simply smile and hide her face in the collar of her shirt, dreaming of a love like what’s in front of her someday.

“I mean, I could paint you again. You are coming up on the big three oh and I have to say that a few things have grown since back then if you know what I mean.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and drops his voice suggestively low. You flick him on the forehead and laugh about it, your daughter joining in on your giggles as a nine month old is apt to do.

The thing you hope she’ll understand the most is that sometimes love isn’t just big paintings and grand gestures and sweet looks. It’s being grounded enough to give each other a hard time when things are good and a good time when things are hard.

You are fortunate enough to have the best of everything with her father.

“Let’s go make breakfast, Monet.”

You turn on your heel and your husband follows closely behind, small steps to match your own. He looks over his shoulder one final time to look at the painting of you on his closet wall and he smiles, soft and warm.

“Whatever you say, my muse.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoken #kendall writes #the way I have the actual story of the painting itself written too my word #cw children #cw families

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daydreamkissesxo · 4 months ago

Text

Father Charlie x reader | Sinner pt 4; Is this how it ends?

Warnings; manipulation, coercive behaviour, mentions of pregnancy and active labour, angst, mentions of abortion (no smut this time😢)

A/N; I really struggled for this part and I’m not entirely happy with it but it’ll do😂 part 5 is cominggg

Your sudden disappearance was the talk of the church each Sunday, every family theorising what could have possibly happened.

Your mother was distraught, inconsolable as she had no explanation as to where you were or whether you were even alive.

Father Charlie often comforted her after mass, cruelly lifting her spirits by claiming that you would one day return, though he knew otherwise.

Your family's persistent searching often left him anxious, that they'd somehow trace your disappearance back to him.

He'd thought of several different ways to resolve the issue, all exposing your pregnancy one way or another with the knowledge that your parents would disown you for it.

He'd thought of carefully planting a pregnancy test in one of your coat pockets after conveniently visiting your family home to console your mother, hoping she'd find it as she rummaged for clues as to your whereabouts.

He'd even considered paying one of the local homeless men to falsely inform your mother that he'd seen you leaving town with a blossoming baby bump, but that seemed to be one of the riskier options, he knew he'd be setting himself up for blackmail.

You were completely oblivious to the state your family were in, confined to the four walls of Father Charlie's home as he claimed it would be impossible for you to leave it without being noticed now that half of the town knew you were missing.

His intentions were far from pure, he disguised his reasons for keeping you a prisoner in his home as concern for the abandonment you'd inevitably receive from your family if they discovered the truth.

He'd carefully manipulated you into believing that he had done nothing wrong, that he acted on the lust you inflicted upon him and that any consequences were only yours to suffer.

You were disconnected from the outside world as he'd even taken away your phone, claiming that you were easy to trace as long as you were in possession of it.

Each day that passed was another that he'd paralysed your mind, ridding you of your independence unconsciously so that you were solely reliant on him for even the most basic human care.

He had a strong desire to control every aspect of your life, carefully planting small seeds of doubt in your mind that you were incapable of making your own decisions and taking proper care of yourself.

He provided you with a home, the clothes that you wore, the food that you ate and the comfort most people long for, it made him feel so unbelievably powerful.

He'd carefully prepared every meal you'd eat, insisting that he knew best where nutritional value was concerned due to his previous work as a personal trainer, yet his intention was to ensure you never ate unless he provided it, much like a dependant child.

The only time he'd leave your side was to fulfil his duties at the church and even then he wondered if that were too long, he couldn't risk leaving your mind unoccupied.

Despite his extreme measures you'd never once thought of yourself as a prisoner, he appeared so attentive and caring that you believed it was just in his nature, not part of his carefully crafted plot to manipulate the woman he'd purposely impregnated so she could never exist without him.

You couldn't help but feel like a house pet, always perched on the sofa or beside him in bed with no real purpose other than incubating his unborn child.

Father Charlie had managed to convince you not to see anyone of the medical profession during your pregnancy, claiming that once you'd stepped foot over the threshold of a hospital that they'd inform your family immediately.

Being so fearful of their disappointment, you agreed that a doctor he had known previous to becoming a priest could regularly check you over.

Violent nausea woke you from your slumber each morning, you'd spend the majority of your day hunched over the toilet bowl and for that father Charlie was pleased, while you were in that state you were incapable of even attempting to leave which bought him more time to work his manipulative ways.

While he was sympathetic to your sickness, he strongly felt it was the perfect punishment for trying to end your pregnancy, though he never told you that.

He hadn't totally forgiven you for your actions but he wasn't a complete monster, he knelt beside you to hold your hair back when he could.

In an ideal world, the two of you would have been married and equally excited for the arrival of your child, but the conception date made it difficult for him to find a way to leave his position at the church without exposing his sexual relationship with you during his time there.

It was at dinner one night that he'd noticed how withdrawn you'd become, assuming it was due to the toll early pregnancy was having on your body but the sound of stifled sobs caused him to stiffen.

He'd immediately placed the dinner plates onto the table, rushing to your side to kneel beside the chair where you sat.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked softly, lifting one of his hands to gently cup your cheek and wipe away your tears, caressing your soft skin with his thumb.

"I..miss my family.." you whispered quietly, your gaze thankfully adverted as Father Charlie clenched his jaw in growing frustration for the reason of your sudden sadness.

"I know you do. But think about it..your family think you've run away. You can't just suddenly show up pregnant, with no husband in sight." He attempted to sound reasonable and sympathetic, as if his sole purpose of keeping you within the four walls of his home was for your own good and not his.

"You're not the reincarnation of Mary, somebody put that baby inside of you and they'll want to know who."

You flinched at his words, perhaps he didn't mean to be so crass but the thought of you exposing him as the father of your child made him anxious.

Hurt by his words, you attempted to turn your head away but his hand nudged at your cheek to force your head back towards him.

"This goes beyond you, sweetheart. What about me? How can I support you if I lose my position? We'll lose this house, I'll lose the support of the community."

He intended to scare you into thinking the two of you could never survive if he were to lose his priesthood, that the luxury that came with the role was the only acceptable choice for your new family.

He knew you'd feel guilty enough at the thought of him losing everything he'd ever worked for to not raise the issue again, but it didn't stop you from feeling disappointed.

He placed one of his palms against your barely noticeable bump, a prideful smile replacing the scowl he wore a moment before.

"This is what happens, sweet girl. You move on, and you start your own family..you leave those you love behind to make space in your heart for new." He said in a soft yet condescending tone, attempting to sever the ties between you and your family completely.

You lowered your gaze as you allowed his words to soak in, unknowingly ingesting the poison that would slowly rid you of your clarity.

His infectious smile caused you to smile back, and for the first time during your pregnancy, you felt hopeful for the future the two of you would share.

Your second trimester brought its own challenges, your breasts were notably larger and constantly sore, and you were almost always in discomfort as the skin of your abdomen stretched to accommodate your growing bundle of joy.

Most days were spent perched in the same spot on the living room couch, no longer able to read nor watch the television as the outside world was all that seemed to occupy your mind.

Each time father Charlie left for mass you'd spend your hour of isolated silence staring out of the window into the front garden, watching as spring finally swept away the darkness of winter.

Once naked tree branches were now beautifully decorated with blossoming flower buds, sparsely planted flowers blooming from the ground while nature began to emerge from its hibernation.

Butterflies were a rare sighting so you were always pleased when one did appear, you thought you'd struck gold as two suddenly appeared to drift past and settle on the window ledge.

You leant closer to the window in fascination, A beautiful white butterfly trapped beneath a black and red patterned one.

It was oddly symbolic, the darkness holding the pure and innocent captive, much like how Father Charlie held you.

The sudden sound of a closing door forced you to jump, your hand falling to your rounded belly to clutch it as you glanced over your shoulder, your gaze meeting Father Charlie's.

He stood frozen in the doorway as he took a moment to admire the sight before him, how beautiful you looked as you sit and wait for him to return, the natural light reflecting against your skin to create a radiant glow.

"There's my girl." He murmured as he walked over to take a seat beside you, excitedly placing a hand on either side of your pregnant belly.

"Not much longer and I can finally come home to two beautiful girls." He chuckled, lowering his head to press a soft peck to the top of your baby bump.

"We don't know if we're having a girl." You replied, quietly giggling as you found his assumption of the gender amusing seeing as he was so adamant.

"Oh she's definitely a girl." He argued, lifting his head to look up at you before leaning in to place a delicate kiss to your lips, silencing you from correcting him once more.

He'd pulled away before you even had chance to reciprocate, your lips left parted as your eyes met once more.

"How have you been feeling? I thought perhaps we could take a walk around the church grounds later, get some fresh air?" He offered, a reward for your compliance now that he was confident you'd never run.

Later, meaning after it had gotten dark as he certainly couldn't allow anyone to see you now you were very visibly pregnant.

He watched as your eyes lit up with excitement at such a small offering of freedom and it left him nervous, mentally questioning how you'd act if he ever accidentally left the door unlocked.

"Great. But first, I've got some ideas about the nursery I'd like to run by you." He added, his hand falling from your bump to his pocket to retrieve his phone.

He lifted it slightly as he swiped through his apps in search of the photo one, clicking on it to then scroll upwards in search of the screenshots he'd taken from various shopping sites for inspiration.

"I was thinking neutral? Seeing as you're not going to let me paint it pink." He teased, smiling as he held the phone up just enough for you to see the inspiration photos he had.

It was later that evening that he'd taken you to the church grounds as promised, aware that gentle exercise is essential for expectant mothers and would aid the correct positioning of the baby as your due date drew closer.

He kept a slow pace as he walked beside you, acknowledging that due to the pressure bearing down on your pelvis it was uncomfortable to walk any faster.

Despite the discomfort, the walk was more than pleasing as you'd finally got to feel the fresh spring breeze brush past your skin while taking in a view far more pleasant than the same four walls of his home.

The church held many memories for you, most fond while some were unpleasant, such as your scuffle with Father Charlie.

You'd often dreamed of marrying at such a beautiful place, though now the thought of marriage was no longer as your relationship with Father Charlie would be frowned upon by most.

He'd often wondered whether you missed the church, the beautiful hymns you knew every word of and the scriptures you'd followed so closely until his corruption of you.

"Do you miss being here?" He asked sincerely after noticing the longing in your eyes as you take in the view, for once not taking the opportunity to taunt you.

You nodded simply in response, reminiscent of the Sundays you'd spent sat amongst your family as you looked for guidance from the Lord, when your feelings for Father Charlie were nothing more than your best kept secret.

"I do. I wish I'd have had some self restraint, things may have been different.."

Father Charlie grew stiff at your confession, your words of regret made him feel both uncomfortable and somewhat sad.

"But I'm not regretful. What good is regret? Everyone's path in life is different, and if it's God's will..I will gladly accept the path chosen for me." You softly add, turning your attention towards him as you smile warmly.

Somehow he'd felt even more sad, God's will never played a part in your fate, it was his decisions that led you down the path you now walked.

The warmth of your smile filled him with nothing more than shame, more shame than he'd inflicted upon you for attempting to better your future by aborting the living evidence of your sexual relationship, he understood in that very moment why you'd considered it.

You gently took hold of his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as a way of showing that the two of you would walk your ill fated path together.

"God will forgive us for our sins, and I hope you will forgive me for the selfish decision I almost made.." You timidly said, his reaction to the abortion you almost endured still ingrained on your mind.

Father Charlie could only respond with a smile, truly stunned by your sudden remorse and compliance, it was deeply unnerving.

Father Charlie never truly recovered from that day, he'd become even more nervy and on edge, waiting for you to one day take your revenge instead of now appreciating the compliance he'd always sought from you.

It was several weeks until your supposed due date and you could barely tell the difference between every day pain and possible contractions.

The pain prevented you from sleeping at night, every time you'd settle another sharp pain in your lower abdomen would disturb you, leaving you exhausted and desperate for your pregnancy to be over with.

Father Charlie felt your accidental nudges throughout the night as you stirred, always waking from his own slumber to ask whether you were okay.

He was reluctant to leave for mass one morning but you insisted he should, convinced that the pain was nothing more than those practise contractions you'd read so much about, but you couldn't have been more wrong.

The pain became drastically worse and had you still been in possession of your phone, you'd have called the first contact you could to come and help.

The intense pain lasted for just a few seconds every couple of minutes, it was a pain you could only describe as a tightening squeeze across your lower abdomen.

Father Charlie had returned from mass to find you slumped against the wall in the hallway with your knees slightly bent up towards your chest, your hand desperately shaking as you clutched at your belly while your body writhed in pain.

His eyes widening in panic as dropped his briefcase in desperate hurry, rushing to your side faster than his mind could even comprehend before falling to his knees beside you.

Your skin was visibly clammy while your face was scrunched in clear discomfort, your purposeful drawn out breathes interrupted as loud pain filled sobs erupt from your lips when another contraction reached its peak.

Father Charlie was visibly panicked, untrained and certainly not educated enough to deliver a baby but there was hardly any time to wait for his doctor friend.

"Baby? Baby, tell me how far apart the contractions are?" He asked, attempting to sound confident while completely overcome with nerves, raising a hand to softly stroke your hair in an attempt to comfort you.

"I, I don't know!" You choke out, arching your back from against the wall as the pain rippled through your abdomen uncomfortably.

Unbeknownst to father Charlie, your mother had followed him home in hope of seeking the comfort he'd often provided her in regard to your disappearance.

Though he could hardly hear a thing over your agonised sobbing, a loud knock at the door followed by a familiar voice caused him to freeze in absolute panic.

"Father Charlie, are you there?" She called out, and the sound of your mother's comforting voice was everything you'd wished to hear as your body fought to bring new life into the world.

Father Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the door, his breath audibly trembling as he believed the two of you would inevitably be caught.

He felt your body tense beside him, confident that a contraction was impending, and as you began to let out a violent sob his hand came to harshly cover your mouth to muffle it.

It felt sickeningly cruel to touch you this way knowing the intense pain that rushed throughout your body, but he just needed to let your mother leave before attending to your greatly immense suffering and the delivery of his beautiful baby.

Taglist; @targaryenswhxre @dckweed @psychocitylights @yoongling 💖💖

#father charlie #grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez #x y/n

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aceofshitposts · 3 months ago

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Happy Halloween y'all :) werewolf au! for brevity and simplicity just know in this au that werewolves often keep their ears and tail even in humanoid form for ease of communication. this really only comes up once in this fic but lmao i didn't want to do exposition about it in the text.

The thing about being the only human in a pack of werewolves is that Tim is often smothered. It's not that he doesn't appreciate their concern, mostly, it's just... Tim would like some independence.

He might not be able to turn into a giant wolf but that didn't mean he was helpless. He was a witch in his own right, the best in Gotham village, and he wanted to practice his craft without his pack mates complaining about the smell of his various concoctions.

It was traditional for witches to set up post along the edge of the territory. Dick had whined that Tim didn't need to go off on his own so far from town, his apothecary didn't have to follow tradition, but Tim liked the quiet. He liked the duty of setting and maintaining wards along the entrance to their territory, greeting visitors and returning townsfolk alike and offering his potions when needed.

Besides, it's not like he was actually that far away. Not for a bunch of wolves who could cross the town in a quarter hour if they needed to.

So really, there was nothing they could complain about.

Well. Except the rogue wolf that shows up just across the river one day.

The river marks the border of the Wayne territory, a singular bridge allowing access. Tim's cabin is a mere 20 feet away from it and the path, the first point of contact for travelers in need of potions or directions.

Tim is checking the wards early in the morning when he sees what looks to be a flash of red in the sunlight. It's gone again before Tim can really focus on it, leading Tim to think it was a bird of some such flying around in the bush.

He puts it out of his mind, returning to the cabin to tend to his potions.

Dick visits in the afternoon.

They do the usual routine. Tim offers Dick a particularly strong cup of mint tea specifically to see him wrinkle his nose at the smell, ears going flat against his head and tail drooping, and Dick smothers Tim in his arms in a bone crushing hug while asking whether Tim really wanted to be alone out here.

"I can take care of myself," Tim insists.

"I know, I know," Dick replies because of course he knows. Tim has proved himself more than enough. "I still worry, though."

It's hard on wolves, Tim thinks, to have a pack member want to live apart. Especially on these wolves, who knew loss of a pack member so keenly. It is unusual, however, for Dick to look particularly nervous, tapping a single claw against his teacup.

"Is something wrong?"

Dick sighs, giving his tea a particularly nasty look before downing the whole thing.

"Bruce got a letter this morning. Apparently there's been some rouge wolf spotted in the neighbouring territories."

Oh. Well, that, Tim supposes, changes some things.

"I'll be alright," Tim says.

Alright is not how Tim would describe himself a few days later.

The wolf appears just after lunch, sitting at the base of a great old tree like an omen. He's a massive wolf, probably rivaling even Bruce in size when he's in full shift, dark black fur with a white patch on the chest and a red leather muzzle fitted around his head. It's an odd style, covering most of the head except the eyes and leaving spots for his ears to stick out.

Probably, Tim should have alerted the pack right away. He could set off the wards and have Bruce and Dick and them all rushing to his location immediately. But the wolf doesn't approach the bridge. He simply sits, watching.

It makes Tim curious.

What would a rogue wolf bound by a red leather muzzle achieve by appearing at the edge of the Wayne territory?

Tim really needs to learn when not to let his curiosity get the best of him.

"I just want to help you," Tim whispers holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

The wolf (Tim has decided to call him Red for the time being) is growling, body hunkered low to the ground. If it weren't for the muzzle Tim would have full view of a mouth full of teeth.

It had become clear, to Tim at least, that Red's condition had to be connected to the muzzle. A binding spell? Something that kept him from shifting back into humanoid form, surely. It also, obviously, kept him from eating anything substantial which Tim thought must be awful.

The growling continues but Red doesn't move. Tim approaches cautiously, trying to telegraph his movements to prevent startling him. He peers around Red's head and.

"Shit, that's a problem."

There's no buckle on the muzzle. Tim will have to cut it off.

He probably should have said something more substantial than swearing before pulling out his knife. But instead he moves to slide the blade under the thick leather and Red bucks immediately. The knife slips from Tim's grip, sliding against the meat of his palm as he struggles to grab it.

Tim is knocked against the base of the tree, a huge paw pressing between his shoulder blades and growling so loud Tim can feel it vibrating through his bones. Red sticks his muzzle right against Tim's neck, claws digging into his shirt and flesh.

"I'm sorry! There's no buckle, I can't get it off without cutting it, I promise!"

He can feel Red's claws flex before moving to the side. Tim rolls over cautiously then tries to get up. Red rushes forward, using a paw to knock Tim back down, only allowing him to sit up.

The air feels still around them. Red could easily hurt Tim further even without his teeth. Tim slowly brings the knife up to Red's head, slides it under the strap just behind Red's ear and begins sawing away at it.

The moment the knife breaks through Red jumps back, shaking his head and pawing at the muzzle to get it off. Once it falls to the ground Tim can clearly see his face. There's a white diamond between his eyes which are an unsettling shade of blue green. That's all Tim sees before he's pinned again, a paw pressing down on his chest and now the feeling of hot breath against his neck. Red breathes in, teeth pressing into Tim's skin.

Then he is gone again, dashing into the woods, leaving Tim to take heaving breaths and then tend to his wounds.

#astrix writes #jaytim #will there be more of this? of course if i can find time lol and possible [whispers] sex

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craftyphantomconnoisseur · 7 months ago

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youtube

Independence day craft easy/15 august celebration ideas/Republic day craft @JingleTheCreativeArt

#Independence day craft easy #/15 august celebration ideas #Republic day craft #jinglecreativeart #independence day craft for preschool #republic day craft ideas #republic day craft #chart for independence day #15th august decoration ideas #easy flag making idea #tiranga indian flag #independence Day Special tri colour Doll Dress Making #15 August special doll making with clay #how to make Tri Colour Doll Dress Making #happy independence day special tricolour Doll Dress #Youtube

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haza8877 · 3 days ago

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Where will this decision lead you?

Hello everyone!🤗 How have you been these past few days? I'm back with a new pick a pile reading. I hope this reading can offer you some insight or guidance. But remember, the cards don’t make decisions for you or guarantee any outcomes—everything is relative and for reference only. Enjoy and have fun with this pick a pile reading!❤️🙏🏻

Pile 1 -> Pile 2 -> Pile 3

Pile 1

(The sun, The hierophant, 10 of wands / Oracle card - Saturn)

For pile 1, I sense a very serious energy surrounding this decision. This is undoubtedly an important choice for you, in every sense of the word. I feel that this decision not only impacts you personally but also carries significance in terms of reputation and tradition. It seems like some of you may be choosing to carry on a family or cultural tradition (perhaps continuing a family business or a local craft). For others, it feels like you have just completed an important phase of your journey and are now looking to level up (such as pursuing a master’s degree or advancing your expertise in a specialized field). Regardless of your specific situation, this is a decision of great importance and long-term impact.

I sense that this choice carries both a deep sense of pride and significant pressure, and you may already be aware of that. The pressure comes from discipline and structure. With The Hierophant and the Saturn oracle card appearing in this reading, both emphasize tradition, stability, discipline, and structure. Meanwhile, 10 of Wands highlights the burden and responsibilities you will face when choosing this path. I won’t say whether this decision is right or wrong because I don’t know your exact circumstances. However, what I can feel is that this choice will demand serious dedication and discipline. There will be many challenges and pressures, but if you fully commit, these challenges will only make you stronger and more resilient.

Overall, pile 1 reminds me of a saying:

"If you want to sit where no one else can, you have to endure what no one else will."

Pile 2

(8 of swords, 9 of wands, 9 of cups, The chariot/ Oracle card - Aries)

I feel that the direction of your choice is not entirely clear in this reading, so I won’t specify what kind of decision this is or what area it relates to. However, what I do sense is hesitation—you're hesitating before making this decision. It feels like you're stuck in a situation that frustrates you, one that you desperately want to escape from. Deep inside, there’s a fire burning, urging you to break free from this stuck energy. Yet, at the same time, fear holds you back, making you hesitant to take that step forward.

There’s a contradiction here—I feel that you know your own capabilities, yet at the same time, you don’t fully trust yourself. You might fear failure or worry that you won’t achieve the outcome you desire. And this inner conflict keeps you in a state of self-doubt and frustration. For example, you may be working in an environment where your skills and efforts are not being recognized as they should be. Deep down, you know you deserve more, but fear stops you from looking for new opportunities because you're afraid of failure.

Looking at the cards in this reading, if you choose to make this decision, I strongly feel that you will achieve what you’ve been dreaming of. I won’t say that the outcome will be something grand or unrealistic, but I can say with confidence that this decision will not lead to a negative result. Right now, it feels like you’re in a situation where you can’t fully express yourself—you can’t be who you truly are. You are talented, and you know it. Yet, in your current environment, you’re holding yourself back, unable to show your full potential. There is something restricting you, something keeping you trapped. If you take this step, you will likely find the freedom to be yourself, to feel more confident and independent. This decision may bring you a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction.

With the Aries Oracle card, the message is even stronger—you must be courageous enough to break free from this situation. I don’t feel like you are in a "comfort zone"; instead, it feels like a restrictive zone that is holding you back. Have you ever looked at someone else’s success and thought, "I could achieve that too because I know how to, I have the ability", yet you still feel stuck and powerless? If so, then if your decision involves breaking free from this limitation, don’t be afraid. Don’t hesitate any longer—what truly belongs to you is waiting for you ahead.

Pile 3

(The lovers, 7 of pentacles, King of wands/ Oracle card - Capricorn)

For pile three, I feel that you are torn between following your heart or listening to your mind when making this decision. Since I don’t fully understand the specific situation you are facing, I can only interpret the energy from the cards. And what I sense is hesitation—you are unsure whether to go with your emotions or to make a rational choice.

However, since this reading is about where your decision will lead you, I see that once you have made your choice, it will require you to invest a lot of time and perseverance, whether in work or relationships. But if you stay committed and patient with your choice, it will bring you well-deserved results—stability and security (if this decision is about work, it may lead you to a higher position, such as a managerial role or a promotion. If it’s about a relationship, it suggests a serious and stable connection.) I don’t see this as a decision that will yield quick results; rather, it will be a slow but steady journey.

For some of you in pile three, I sense that when you start seeing the initial results of your decision, you may feel a bit unsatisfied. However, this isn’t because the results are bad but because they might not fully match your expectations. It’s like planting an apple tree and hoping it will bear an abundance of fruit. The tree does produce apples, just not as many as you imagined, or perhaps they aren’t as big as you expected. There are many possible outcomes, but the key takeaway is that you will reap the rewards—you just need to avoid setting expectations so high that you can’t appreciate what you have achieved.

With the Capricorn Oracle card, the message strongly emphasizes perseverance, discipline, and dedication in order to reach your goals. Based on this reading, I truly believe that you will achieve well-deserved, solid, and lasting success.

This reading reminds me of a quote that I believe is the perfect advice for you:

"Choose with your heart, but execute with your mind."

Thank you all for following and supporting my readings. I have more readings and activities coming up, and I hope to continue receiving your support. Sending you love and light!❤️🙏🏻🪷💐🌸🫂

#haza #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot #tarot blog #tarotblr #channeled message #pick a pile #free readings #free tarot #tarot learning #tarot beginner #tarot business #tarotcommunity #pick a card #love and light #universe

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its-not-a-pen · 2 years ago

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[餘知傳] The 2nd Century Warlord (Part 1)

based on the story by @romanceyourdemons

art by @its-not-a-pen

first day as a second century warlord i have my men tie branches to their horses’ tails to stir up dust and make it look like there’s a lot of us but i forget it just rained so there isn’t any dust and the enemy can clearly see there’s like twenty of us all spread out in a line

second day as a second century warlord i bribe a bunch of kids to start singing a nursery rhyme i carefully crafted to spread misinformation and further my strategic ends but they change the lyrics to be about poop and the enemy isn’t misdirected at all

third day as a second century warlord i lure my enemy into a narrow valley and send a team of archers to shoot them from the high ground but there was a feral hog napping on the trail up to the overlook and they couldn’t decide whether to try and shoot it or just go around and by the time the hog woke up and left on its own the enemy had already passed safely below

fourth day as a second century warlord we attempt to join a battle on the side of the guy we want to ally with but he and the guy he’s fighting have really similar names and it’s finally dusty and i misread the standards and attack the wrong guy. so now we’re stuck with this total loser of a liege lord, because how the fuck do you explain that after a battle?

fifth day as a second century warlord and some sort of wizard wanders into camp, my loser liege lord wants to execute him for being a wizard but i convince him to let the wizard stay, because i want to do more weather-based strategies and i’m pretty sure having a camp wizard can help with that. after the welcome to the team banquet the wizard steals half the treasury and my liege lord’s wife and leaves

sixth day as a second century warlord my loser liege lord sends me to reinforce a city he’s taken, but in the confusion of leaving i forgot to take the token that would have gotten us into the city, so my men have to wait outside the city walls for like eight hours while i ride back to get it

seventh day as a second century warlord and my loser liege lord finally joins me in the city, it turns out he’s actually a pretty cool guy, and he isn’t even that mad at me for letting the wizard steal his wife. i decide to shoot my shot but i’m really nervous and keep on stalling because what if i mess up our relationship and by extension jeopardize the security of my men, and eventually he just says goodnight and goes back to his room, where an assassin is in the process of setting up to kill him

eighth day as a second century warlord and my loser liege lord tells me to fake defect to his rival warlord, the one i originally wanted to ally with, to find out if he was the one who sent the assassin and why. but my whole way over to the rival warlord i’m worried that this has something to do with the wizard thing or how awkward i made it last night

End of Part 1

part 2

This comic was made independently from the creator, I'm just a fan and these are my own interpretations.

Notes under the cut:

the title 餘知傳 [the Story of Yu Zhi], is the styled name of the Second Century Warlord. I translated 餘知 as [plentiful knowledge] since he's defined by a surplus of knowledge but a deficit in luck. It's also great for fish-based puns since it's a homophone. As a nice parallel, Loser Liege Lord's banner is a carp ;))). the art style was inspired by vintage Chinese comics.

The story is set during the Three Kingdoms period, (220 to 280 AD) natural disasters, infighting and civil unrest had dissolved the previous Han Dynasty, leading to a violent free-for-all. I based the clothes on the previous Eastern Han styles, mainly because there just weren't a lot of contemporary references from the 3K period (and it only lasted like, 60 years). I always strive for historical accuracy, however, the Han Dynasty was over 400 years long and some sources don't do a great job separating out the different fashions, so I apologise for any mistakes that occur.

2. there aren't a ton of drawings on what Han children looked like, but in general ancient kids hairstyles are pretty consistent. 9-15 yo boys had shaved heads with two little top knots, girls had natural hair in braids/buns.

3. the crossbow (back left) makes a cameo, it was associated with Zhuge Liang, famous real-life strategist from the 3K era.

4. the LLL and his wife thank the Warlord, (a noblewoman on a battlefield??? scandalous!). it shows the LLL enjoys the unconventional and the wife is not as timid as she appears. I thought it would be funny to make them look as Background Character (tm) as possible.

5. I based the wizard's design on sages from mythology. (Hey, he's not a total fraud, he invented gunpowder 800 years before the Tang dynasty!) Nice little character moment for the LLL who is shielding his wife.

6. What do soldiers do while they're waiting for 8 hours? (<-from the right) playing knucklebones with pebbles, whittling a little horse, feeding sparrows, gossiping with neighbour, drinking from his gourd, napping. A minor warlord can't afford to keep a professional army so they're most likely conscripted farmers who've had to buy their own weapons and armour, hence why they look so unimpressive.

7. LLL offers the Warlord a bitten peach. Inspired by the legend of Mizi Xia who bit into a delicious peach and gave it to the Emperor so he could taste it was well. "Bitten peach" was a byword for homosexuality in ancient China. I thought it would be SO funny if the LLL was actually smooth af and the Warlord was a like a teenaged girl crushing for the first time. He's desperate to taste that peach but is too timid to reach out >;))) man has zero game. negative game, even. truely the PS4 of homosexuals. RIP to the assassin in the back corner who was forced to watch the most awkward, cringe-fail attempt at flirting in the history of china play out.

8. this is what zero peach does to a mf. UnU

#ink drawing #comics #second century warlord #original art #ancient china #op if ur reading this im a huge fan and i love ur work #storytime #tumblr stories #history memes #romance of the three kingdoms

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maddyjones2 · 6 months ago

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On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #neil gaiman allegations

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cherryheairt · 2 months ago

Text

The Weight of Us

Viktor x reader

set in pre Act 1

Thanks anon ily 🩷

No desc, given a last name for 'House', fMC

part 1 of a series?

kind of an au? only because the academy is now a college that offers more than science studies/majors everything is normal otherwise

Even after hailing from Piltover, you'd never truly been accepted by its people. House Roycen had been an established and renowned house since its founders helped to build Piltover to what it is now. Ernesto Roycen, its founder and 'father', had been one of the leaders during the pillage to the sister cities, firm in his belief that magic was unnatural and should have no place in this world.

You, however, had always been fascinated by the unnatural. In your eyes, magic was another part of nature, though it was shunned by the 'people of progress' in Piltover. You spent rainy days locked away in your chambers, tinkering away at the latest interest that caught your younger self's eye. Although there was no magic to learn about or practice, the fascinating world of craft and gadgetry indulged your curious mind perfectly.

You made moving little wind-up ducks from reading of the inner workings of mechas. You decorated your room with twinkling stars that were charged by the sunlight pouring in during the day. A hundred other, unfortunately small, creations were made throughout your youthful years of secret rebellion. While keeping these all a secret, you had to be creative to make your own goggles, which had multiple settings to see the tiniest details of gears and clogs. All 'inventions' were hidden beneath bedframes and in drawers the moment footsteps were heard echoing throughout the empty halls.

Your father, a man who took pride in his work and could find no love in his heart for anything else, did not visit the estate often. Most of the time, he stayed in a townhouse near the center of the city to breeze to and fro as he needed. Your mother, holding a place on the council like her ancestor did, visited only slightly more than he. Meetings were few far and between in the council, and unpredictable at that. She stayed at the estate and took a carriage to the inner city every time a letter arrived to summon her. You grew used to days without word nor sight or either parent.

Instead, this hole was filled by Claus Kosphere, the Roycen estate's head butler. The elderly man had worked for your family long before you were born. And though he seemed stern and unfeeling when you were a child, you quickly learned that the man raised and cared for you in every way that a true parent could.

You also learned of his daughter along the way. A bright young girl who spent her final years bedridden in a hospital. Claus took the loss with the most grace a father could bare and instead poured his knowledge into you. He curated your secret education of technology when your parents were away, and though you both knew you could never do anything with it, you were more than happy to at least learn of it.

Neither parents spent much time with you. When at home, they were in their studies. During meals, the main topic of discussion was how your tutoring sessions went that morning. Due to your father's anxieties about public or private schooling not being able to attend to you personally enough, all of your studies were done from your home. Every day, three people deemed worthy enough to teach would visit like clockwork and run you through the lessons. You never bothered to pay much attention to them or their teachings. Every day was boring and dull.

Every lesson had been learned years ago through independent reading. Every new chord the pianist struck was like a dull ring in your ears as you imitated it. Every history and English lesson was completed within minutes. Upon seeing the rare mind you possessed and aptitude for learning, your teachers suggested an acceleration in your studies.

Geography, economics, and political science exercises beyond what an average teenager was fathoming in Piltover, all breezed through with ease. College was clearly the next step, and although you saw it as the perfect opportunity to find your wings and use the independence to begin the studies you wanted—your parents decided to perfectly curate your entire schedule for you instead. The subjects that you truly had interest in, including maths, scientific discoveries, engineering, or anything related, were all but forgotten to your parents. As if they didn't exist or had extremely little importance to them—they had no place in your education. What use did a political figure have with the menial details like those? In the words of your father, those jobs were filled by the faceless nobodies of society.

Nerves and excitement ran through you on that first day. You'd never attended a standard school like most of the students—and were thus set behind them in terms of social norms and connections. Everyone knew you as the heir to House Roycen, but none knew you.

The excitement quickly gave way to humiliation. Every attempt to form a friendship was shot down, and quickly, you realized how cruel people were to those seen as strange. No lesson or book could prepare you for the reality of privileged young people who had nothing better to do with their time than gossip. You spent your first years entirely alone, only accompanied by professors and servants. In your commutes to and from home, the window of the carriage could only serve you more grief as the passing picture showed carefree, perfect families.

You could not leave Piltover and start fresh, not anywhere that you would be undiscovered. Your parents would surely track you down and strap you to a chair if need be. Nowhere in Runeterra would offer you anything better than what Piltover did.

Whispers of you already being groomed for the position of Councilor were up in the air, not at all helped by the fact that your mother occasionally brought you along on days off to shadow her during meetings. You had no true days off anymore. No rainy days huddled away in your room when an instructor could not make the trip in the downpour. Your trinkets sat abandoned and dusty in the coldest parts of your room.

When your father passed away, the steadiness in your own mind tormented you more than the loss itself. How could you not mourn your own father's death? On one hand, the man had spent more time away from you than anything else. You were barely more than acquainted in all ways that mattered. The most he spoke to you were scoldings for your apparent laziness and unfocused mind. On the other hand, that was the man who had a big part in housing and feeding you your entire life. In the back of your mind, you briefly thought that he seemed more like a sponsor than a parent. For months, the thoughts that something was truly wrong with you, either in the head or the heart, plagued you.

Solitude became your blanket of security and familiarity.

The sole heir to the Roycen House, born two hundred years after the founding of it, you were meant to carry the torch just like all the ancestors before. Expected to attend Piltover's finest university for political science and law, and eventually 'earn' your place on the council, though no Roycen ever truly did and only ever got there through connection. You had the world on your shoulders.

🪞

When Viktor thought of native Piltovians, he admitted he had a prejudiced way of thinking. His first impressions with the majority had been less than satisfactory to say the least. When meeting in business terms, sent by Heimerdinger, those who knew the Dean knew that his assistant was 'Undercity born' and thus did not greet him with the same standards they greeted those deemed equal.

Those who didn't know him, like baristas at the local cafe or librarians writing out his books as 'checked out', did not treat him any specific way. Sure, they often eyed his cane and scrawny figure, but a fleeting moment of judgment had been something Viktor long grew out of caring about.

This was his life for years, during his time in university and after graduation when his job was being an assistant. A high-end job, compared to what 99% of the Undercity's offers, and one he could not complain about. He was paid well, treated fairly by the Dean, and provided housing near the office Heimerdinger presided in. He could not complain, no, but he could not find it in him to be content either.

When he was given the opportunity to be something more than the Undercity could ever allow him to be, he was both grateful and eager to improve the lives of his kin and people.

It had been years since he was so bright-eyed.

Life had gained a monotone routine. He was safe in the city, didn't have to worry about keeping his head down or pissing off the wrong folk, but he lived the same day every day.

Write letters for Heimerdinger.

Deliver packages for Heimerdinger.

Stand in at meetings for Heimerdinger.

Take notes in council meetings for Heimerdinger.

Eat, sleep, repeat.

His mind had not been challenged since his school days. He had not built anything since senior class. Viktor itched to do more. To be more.

For now, he stuck to his routine. Raising a dexterous hand to knock on a freshly polished door, his eye was caught by the symbol adorning its iron knocker. An ornate yet softly elegant thing, one that he would personally consider too gaudy to decorate his home with, but fit the rich and lavishness of Piltovian homes. It was a peacock, surrounded by a wreath of striking white and black anemonies. Taking it in his hand, Viktor felt like he was almost committing a crime by sullying such an expensive piece of artwork. He knocked twice, clear and curt.

Tucked under his elbow was a small brown package for the recipient from Heimerdinger himself, who muttered his apologies that he could not personally deliver a birthday gift.

"Humans celebrate birthdays so often that it feels like I'm spending more time planning gifts and letters of congratulations than working. Would you deliver this one for me, my dear boy?" The yordle asked as he scurried around.

Viktor was quite envious at times of his immortality. He didn't have to celebrate birthdays like it may be his last. He barely even counted the years he'd been alive. Viktor considered himself lucky to make it to adulthood.

He nearly flinched as the door swung open. An older man, adorned in a pristine black and white suit, raised a brow at the younger man. "State your business, young man." He spoke finely.

Lifting the simple package, Viktor replied: "A gift for Miss Delarose Roycen."

The older relaxed. Nodding, he bowed slightly as he opened the door wider for Viktor to enter. "Come this way, sir."

Viktor almost groaned at the invitation. He had hoped the gift might be taken, and he'd be promptly dismissed like he usually was. He'd never be that lucky, he supposed. Sitting in the foyer awkwardly, Viktor fiddled with the thin twine holding the paper together in a neat bow. The inside of the house perfectly matched the outside. Gold, black, and white seemed to blend together in arrays of wealthy display. Any smudges on the white leather had him praying that he wouldn't be sent a bill that cost more than his entire apartment.

The Roycen family was one he had only observed from afar til now. Delarose Roycen sat within the council at every meeting while Viktor stood in the 'peanut gallery' and jotted down any important notes for Heimerdinger (which was almost never). The lady was an intimidating picture of elegance and traditional values. Though her husband passed fairly recently, she held her head high and never faultered publicly.

While waiting, Viktor took time to inspect the room. It seemed void of any personal attachments like portraits, trophys, or certificates. All but one, which had be to over ten feet tall and five wide hanging over the mantle. A simple and impersonal work of art, displaying two firm-faced adults and a youthful woman. Pretty was an afterthought compared to the strikingly detached look on her face. Her eyes held a faraway look that plainly stated she'd rather be anywhere but in that room and posing for a photo.

He almost rolled his eyes at the notion. A spoilt rotten young lady like a Roycen must be painfully unaware of those in the Undercity who would give their lives to be bored and safe.

We all want what we do not have. He reminded himself as he shifted in his place. And right now, he wanted to end his afternoon by heading home and indulging himself in his newest library find, Armature Winding and Motor Repair.

When a door clicked open, the man in black revealed himself again. This time, followed by the young miss from the painting. "Missus Delarose is occupied in the moment. The young Mistress will keep you company while Lady Roycen finishes up." He bowed out and left behind a swinging door on the other side of the room, presumably to the kitchens for refreshments.

Now that he saw her in person and not just by the painting, he recognized her. The girl had flitted around campus when he attended, a mousy thing that seemed to float around groups instead of within them. After he graduated, he had also seen her a few times in the council room itself. Now, he finally had a name to the face. For years, he thought that she was just another assistant, perhaps to Cassandra Kiramman or Delarose Roycen as they preferred having women assistants that he acquainted himself with. Mel Merdarda did the same, and Viktor attuned it to women trusting other women easier. The resemblance had slipped past his head before, but now it was clearer.

The young lady looked exactly how Viktor felt. The silence was thick in the air as she sat stiffly on the couch, looking a stranger in her home as much as he did. "I can leave it here. The package—I mean. It is only a gift from Heimerdinger."

The woman was quiet for a few ticks in front of him, opening her mouth a few times to begin but closing it just as fast. Eventually, she shook her head. "Claus will be unhappy that I could not entertain a guest for a mere few minutes. Please, just stay until you've had tea."

"Claus?" Viktor asked, looking towards the kitchens to confirm.

She hummed affirmatively, biting the inside of her cheek. "Our butler. He likes to keep everything orderly. No unsatisfied people, you know?" She shrugged, finding her perfectly manicured nailbeds more interesting than looking Viktor in the eye. Uninterested wholely, or just feeling disrespected that a Zaunite was in her home and on her furniture.

"I understand." He trailed curtly. Claus strided back in with a silver tray of tea and small edibles. Placing it on the coffee table, he promptly poured Viktor's tea first.

"I hope earl grey is suitable to your tastes, sir." He said, moving to pour the woman's next. She immediately dumped a concerning amount of sugar cubes into the steaming liquid, finishing it off with sweet cream that lightened it to a milky color. Viktor raised a brow, and thanked the butler for the generous display.

He placed a few sugar cubes and a splash of milk in, stirring idly as he watched the clock with a sharp eye. He, of course, preferred his beverages sweet as can be too, but some hesitation kept him from wanting to be 'unseemly' in front of the councilor's daughter.

Claus tapped her back once, immediately making her sit straight up, back not even grazing the couch and still having picture-perfect posture. Viktor hadn't even noticed her slouching in the first place. She didn't, either, from the brief annoyed scowl he spotted cross her face. Or perhaps she did and was trying to get away with it.

"How is Professor Heimerdinger, these days?" Claus asked with a genial but tight smile.

"He's...Heimerdinger." Viktor answered lamely, lifting the package as if that said everything for him. "Always running around trying to be in a hundred places at once."

The man smiled, more gently now. "I see. It's been a few years since I've seen him. I can't imagine he remembers much of me, though, with how many people he's met in that grand lifespan of his." Claus folded his gloved hands behind his back from his place behind the young lady. She was tense in her seat under the watchful eye, perhaps even more so than Viktor was. The pastries went untouched by both parties.

"You were colleagues?" Viktor asked.

He nodded. "Once, for a few years after my time in university. More like his pupil, to be honest. He saw my plans for the Undercity to be given water cleansing and filtration throughout the city. We started collaboration on making it a reality, and he was willing to sponsor the entire idea—but life got in the way, and now I'm not even sure the blueprints are around anymore."

Viktor was surprised at the revelation. A Piltover citizen working to improve the lives of Zaunites as a whole? Water and air pollution was one of the Undercity's top problems. Most of the population gained major health problems from having no choice but to consume both—himself included.

"How long ago was this?"

"It's been over forty years now since I started working for the Roycens. So, forty years since the project was abandoned."

Forty?

Heimerdinger had left a life-changing project to collect dust in a file cabinet for forty years? Longer than Viktor had lived. His parents could have benefited from filtration systems in their homes, would maybe even be alive to this day if sickness hadn't caught them first.

"I see." Was all he could muster. "Pardon me asking this, but if you were working on such a prestigious project with a sponsor, then why are you working here?"

The Roycen's eyes finally shot up to meet his. Guilt and grief lay in her faraway expression. Sipping her lukewarm tea, she quickly hid half of her face from his observation.

Claus never faultered. In Viktor's experience, those who have lived longer lives often had little qualms about sharing details of their past, whether they were good or bad. "I quit my work with Heimerdinger to cover expenses for my daughter. Her medical bills were quite high at the time, much more than what I was afforded back then. I was alloted housing, food, and everything needed for my work to come to life, but nothing extra for personal expenses."

He lived to work and nothing else. Much like most of Viktor's former peers who went off to their intended fields of work. With such time-consuming jobs, there was no room for the luxuries of pleasure. Even as an assistant, Viktor had no time to do anything but work. Every morning, at dawn, he reminded himself that he was doing this for a brighter future and better opportunities. After all, who wouldn't want to hire a direct pupil of Cecil Heimerdinger?

"And you never went back?"

"I found something that needed me more than those dusty old blueprints." Claus glanced down to the head of hair on the couch below him, who seemed to sink further into it at the implication. "Anyone can continue my previous work in the Undercity. But no one could have replaced me here."

It clicked in his mind very easily. Claus took care of the Roycen girl since the day she was born. Wealthy parents never truly raised their kids, but their staff often presented a replacement for that affection and care lost in empty halls. But, his own daughter? The medical bills in Piltover were extreme for those not born to generational wealth like House families were. For the common folk of Piltover, still rich compared to the average Zaunite, one might drown in debt.

Viktor was lucky enough to have the mind able to accommodate his own disability. He made new canes throughout his childhood every time he grew out of the old. Recently, he made his own leg brace that lies beneath his uniformed slacks—something that helps tremendously. Being able to help himself was a blessing—he was fortunate not to have an abundance of medications to buy monthly.

If not debt, then death. Seeing as Claus had taken such a fatherly role in this woman's life, it was easy to assume he had eventually lost his own. Perhaps they needed each other.

Viktor couldn't feel too much for the loveless children of Piltover. While their parents were hardly around and their educators were their baselines for raising themselves up as respectable citizens, they still grew up in lavish homes with plentiful food and abundant health. The Roycen girl might feel guilty for 'stealing' a genius' future away from him, he knew that it wouldn't change the reality. Emotions held little value unless they were acted upon.

Heels clicking interrupted the silence between the three. Viktor's eyes followed the graceful figure of Delarose Roycen as she strided into the room. Much like the symbol of her house, she held the poise of a peacock and the colors to match. With her curly black hair surrounding her head like a dark halo, eyes as sharp as they were intelligent, her pant suit the shimmering iridescence colors of deep blue, green, and yellow, the councilor was more than intimidating. Always listening more than she spoke during meetings, Delarose seemed to keep tabs on everyone around her for future reference.

One time, Viktor recalled her not saying a single word during a heating debate on the stationary tariffs rising in Piltover. He watched on as her dark gaze turned this way and that to follow along with the few that were discussing the tariffs with little care for their decorum around fellow councilors. When the meeting wrapped up, she simply excused herself and walked right out of the open doors. The very next meeting a week later, she began the discussion without so much as a note card. The councilors were silent as they listened to her bring forth the solution for the imported goods. The little country of Lospine, which resided between Piltover the New and Noxus up in the rocky mountains, would accept an influx of Piltover's rich fruits for their plentiful coffers of ink. With the matter settled, the tariffs returned back to their regular price and have not fluctuated since.

Delarose was the type of person Viktor admired. Certainly the easier choice over ones like Salo and Hoskel, who spoke just to hear their own voices prevail. Though, the admiration was done from afar, in Viktor's place with the other assistants. The last thing he wanted was her keen eyes seeing more than he was willing to tell.

"Viktor." She greeted with a plain face. He was more than just surprised to know that she knew his name. "Here on behalf of Heimerdinger, I assume?" Amusement laced her tone. She did not apologize for her tardiness in her own home.

He stood from his seat, feeling a strange urge to bow his head like a peasent greeting their king. "Councilor Roycen, I have a package from Heimerdinger. Along with his hopes that your birthday went well." He managed, throat suddenly feeling dry.

Across from him, the girl eyed him from her seat. She did not stand to greet her mother or even glance her way. Setting down her empty cup, her eyes set on Viktor in a way most opposite to her mother's. Her gaze was curious and soft, not at all scrutinizing or judgemental like her peers in the university.

She nodded once with a finality. "Send him my thanks." Taking the parcel, she left the room with no other regards. Viktor was momentarily stunned. All this waiting and awkwardness for her to appear for a mere second? Claus might as well have taken it from him at the door. The wealthy's ways of life never failed to bemuse him.

The girl took a moment of waiting for the heel clicks to retreat before laughing. The sound was quiet and almost muted but clear to Viktor's keen senses. After a moment of chuckling to herself, she stood gracelessly and almost seemed giddy. "You've lived in Piltover for how many years and you can't hide your expressions still?" She asked, a gleam in her eye.

Viktor was taken aback by her bluntness. He had grown accustomed to holding his tongue to save trouble, but his honesty came through on his face more often than not. A trait given to him by his mother. "What do you mean?" He played dumb.

"If looks could kill, my mother wouldn't have made it five feet from the couch." She glanced to Claus, who had a frankly unamused look on his face. "Watch out, maybe she'll put a curse on you for looking at her the wrong way."

He smiled slightly despite himself. Councilor Roycen had certainly looked like she could put a spell or curse on him—but luckily for him, she was too busy for such hobbies. "I didn't mean to callous. I only mourn the time wasted."

"Am I horrible company?"

Kissing his teeth, Viktor cringed at the offense. Turning to defend himself, he was met with a playful grin from the woman instead. Sighing, he shook his head half with relief and half with exasperation. The whole family were eccentrics.

"I'll see you at the council meeting next week, I presume, miss Roycen." He dipped his head a bit and ambled towards the door. The late hours of the afternoon showed the golden hour's light through stained glass, leaving the room pleasently lit. He thought for a moment what a nice and quiet place this would be to work in, especially compared to his current cramped office filled with artificial light and thin walls.

Claus moved like a ghost to open the door for Viktor. "Have a nice evening, sir."

Sir. What a joke.

🪞

The next time you saw the lanky man with the pretty face and intriguing accent was exactly a week later. The first official meeting on your mother's birthday had been awkward at best and offensive at worst. You feared that he left the house feeling insulted from your mother, as most did but kept quiet about, and from your comment about his honest face.

But, time had to pass anyway. You were far from dwelling on the past like you used to, especially with how fast-paced lift became in college. It was your third year, and balancing life, shadowing meetings, and school work became harder and harder yet.

The students didn't make it any easier.

Since your first year, being ostracized was your new norm. 'The spoilt nepo baby' was who you were known to be, even to those with the same favoritism provided for them on a silver spoon. Hundreds of nepo babies attended the college—your mother just happened to be above their's.

Your current misfortune lied within your class, History of Piltover: The New and Old. Specifically, Gideon Bamford. Your professor assigned partners at the beginning of the semester for final projects, the very one worth 50% of your grade. Gideon had apparently made it his life's goal to make your own a living nightmare in the little time you spent together in class and out.

"I can just retake the class next semester. But will the council want someone who failed something as simple as a history class on their ranks?" He had sneered during their first study session in the library. While he sat back doing absolutely nothing, her attempts at getting things done alone were futile as he distracted her or ripped up papers as soon as they were filled.

After three weeks straight of dealing with him and complaining to your professor to no avail, the final solution was to go straight to the Dean.

Your only problem? Finding the guy.

Heimerdinger was famously elusive to those needing to meet with him. Whether this was intentional or not was still up to debate. Heimerdinger had a way of showing himself only when things caught his interest, not the other way around.

Viktor was your closest and fastest shot to schedule a meeting. During the meetings, Heimerdinger was always in attendance at the head of the council, but he made a point to scurry out of the room right as the doors opened. You had zero chance of stopping him with a yell and physically attempting to would be seen as hostile by the guards. You couldn't even imagine being so uncouth in front of your mother, let alone the entire council of Piltover. So, while you had the chance to stand alongside Viktor, you had to seize it. There were only a few weeks left before the final project's deadline was here.

Truthfully, you hadn't noticed him much before. He blended into the crowd seamlessly, with a practiced ease that suited his cool demeanor. Everyone knew he was Heimerdinger's assistant but not much else. Though that ignorance made you feel slightly guilty, you had a suspicion that he didn't bother to get to know the other assistants of the councilors either.

You, for one, disliked quite a few of them. All except for Viktor and Elora. Mel Merdarda's assistant had been working for her since before you started attending the meetings. It was easy to assume she'd been working for the Noxian for many years, considering how close the two were compared to the other boss-assistant relationships.

The other councilors did not have more than a symbiotic relationship. They pay the assistants: the assistants do their bare minimum work. Simple and straightforward. Though their attitudes left much to be desired.

Salo and Hoskel's assistants, Benny and Gasper respectively, were almost snobby and dim as their bosses. Shoola's singular secretary, Ponk, was sharp but did not speak a word nor try to communicate with others. Cassandra had two assistants, Siam and Dina, who tailed behind her everywhere, women of course (as the Kiramman matriarchs usually staffed), who were both friendly but tight as theives. Bolbok, the ever-mysterious figure, had no such attendents who were involved in meetings.

You had never spoken directly to any of them. Most of them either regarded you as a ghost in the corner of the room or the Roycen girl who had no place anywhere near them. Either way, it made things easier for you to be ignored rather than called out.

Sighing softly, you shifted in place at the edge of the group. Never fully involved in it, you tended to stay near the back and observe the entire room, assistants and guards included.

As Heimerdinger nodded firmly, ears and bushy head flopping as he did, the meeting had concluded. With the conclusion confirmed, the yordle was off like lightning. Long discussions of menial amendments had long been tuned out at the beginning. Your sole focus had been at the back of Viktor's head. At times, you wondered if he felt the eyes drilling into him with the way his knuckles on the cane's handle would occasionally turn white.

People filtered out of the room briskly, wasting no time to prepare for their busy weekends.

You were the last ones in the room.

And your mother, unfortunately.

She stood after everyone else departed. The slightest clinks of her jewlery filled the room as she grabbed up her belongings. Her eyes met yours and she glanced at Viktor for the slightest moment. "The carriage is downstairs." She stated.

You nodded, "I'll walk home today. I have some class work to finish up at the library."

She left promptly afterwards.

Your focus returned to Viktor, who slightly hutched over the table and appeared to be fingering through a planner.

"Ah—Viktor?" You started, unsure of his last name or whether he minded being addressed so casually.

Viktor straightened the book in hand and closed it with a sharp 'slap!'. When he turned to look at you and said your name in the tilted lilt of his, your name sounded brand new. But maybe that was just the accent.

"Is there something you need from me or did my one-time visit last week invoke a familiarity between us that I was unaware of?" He asked, raising a thick brown brow.

The passive-aggressive comment damn near sent you running back downstairs with your tail between your legs, hoping that your mother's ride hadn't left yet. But, you had no choice except to suck it up. "Sorry to bother you. It's just..." You picked at the skin of your cuticles, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

"You want to ask me to schedule a meeting with Heimerdinger." He said flatly.

Shit.

Of course he knew. It was written all over your guilty face.

Unable to muster up the words, you simply nodded.

"Everyone wants a second with the Dean. What could he possibly help you with that Councilor Roycen cannot?" He asked, folding his arms as he leaned against the table.

"I want to resolve this myself." You said assuredly. "My mother doesn't solve problems for me."

"That's a surprise." He mused, humming to himself. "What is the problem?"

"My final project for a history class is due soon and I need permission to work solo."

"That's it? Your professor could do that, no need to waste Heimerdinger's time."

You shook your head, rubbing the space between your eyebrows briefly. "I wouldn't come to Heimerdinger, or to you, if it wasn't my last resort. My partner, my professor, and even my guidance councilor all refuse to listen."

Viktor stayed quiet in front of you, analyzing you in a way you were unused to. Scrutinized, sure, but not anything beyond the shallow tastes of Piltover's elite.

"Please, Viktor. I have to pass this class." You pleaded, unknowing of what kind of effect a pathos appeal might have on someone you are hardly even acquainted with, but your best chance was relying on the assumption that Viktor had empathy for a student who is in the shoes he once was.

"You don't truly believe that, right?"

"That I have to pass my courses?" You asked, puzzled.

"One conversation with your professor and you'd pass with flying colors." He shrugged.

"I have flying colors." You bit, frustrated at his close-minded attitude. "I'm not willing to lose all my hard work for some dickhead who thinks the same as you. Everything since starting college has been my own hard work—no one else's."

Something in Viktor's eyes flickered. He stood up, grabbing his cane with a newfound haste. "I can find a slot for you. Maybe." He said. You visibly lit up, nodding and bouncing on your heels like a hyperactive pup. "That's not a guarantee."

"I understand." You bit your cheek, containing your giddiness.

"Come, my office isn't far. We'll find a date." He offered, nodding for you to follow beside him. It wasn't hard to fall into place at his side going down the elevator. In fact, the casualness almost felt natural.

Thinking on it now, this might have been the longest conversation you'd had with someone that wasn't working with you on a group project or working for you in months. Though, you did seek him out for help. Perhaps it still didn't count when it was his job to complete Heimerdinger's menial tasks. Still, your heart felt lighter at the interaction, even through Viktor's standoffishness.

A part of you felt hopeful for the near future. To pass your history class, then later on the entire school year. In years, you would be a respected figure in Piltover, known for political and peace achievements just like your forefathers were. The tinge in the back of your heart told you otherwise, but your mind had long come to terms with your set fate.

"Are you going to stand there, or is there another assistant you have to bother in the building?" Viktor's voice cut through. He waited outside of the elevator doors, holding his elbow out for it to stay open.

"Coming!" You said breathlessly, hopping out of the lift and towards the lobby doors.

🪞

My first time ever writing in second person. I wanted this to kind of be a test for that so I can write better 'reader' povs because third person is so much harder to do without a name attached.

Yes, the peanut gallery was for trials only and only council members attend actual meetings, but I think assistants are exceptions for that.

sorry if my terms for engineering or robotics or whatever these people do are so repetitive I do not participate in STEM lmao

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #Spotify #viktor #viktor league of legends #fanfic #arcane fanfic

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heliads · 1 year ago

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first of all i just wanted to say that i’m actually in love with your writing and i can’t wait to read more from you!! anyway i was thinking of some good ol’ peter hayes x fem!reader where they were both in candor together and hated each others GUTS, but then when they transferred to dauntless, peter starts developing feelings for reader so he follows her around like some puppy but she’s still on the peter-hate-train. maybe also like he starts talking to some other female dauntless initiate and stops giving reader as much attention and she finally realizes that she likes him

(this is such a long request i’m so sorry)

thank you so much!!

'Bad Liars' - peter hayes

masterlist

Starting out life on your own terms. A fresh page, a blank slate. This is why you decided to switch factions in your Choosing Ceremony, why you agreed to never see your family again except by something as meager as coincidence. Friends, neighbors, blood relations, all left behind with one swipe of a knife against your palm. It’s worth it, though. Running through the streets of your city like your world is on fire, you’re free for the first time in your memory. It’s just you in this new, grand place they call Dauntless.

Well, you and Peter Hayes.

Of all the people to come here with you, of course your fellow transfer from Candor would be Peter. Bold, callous Peter. Peter, who’s had it out for you since you were kids. No child should know that much bitter hatred, but the two of you have been arch rivals since you were small. You’d be lying if you said that leaving him behind didn’t factor into your decision to transfer from Candor to Dauntless even a little bit, but yet here he is anyway. Turns out you couldn’t run that far from him after all.

To you, it makes perfect sense that if Peter Hayes had to go anywhere, he would go to Dauntless. All throughout his time at Candor, for as long as you can remember Peter, he had been crafting his words to inflict as much misery as possible. In the eyes of the faction leaders, anything he said was fair game so long as he was telling the truth, and Peter did just that. He told his truth, which was precisely like reality except warped to cause as much hurt as he dared.

Peter’s words were honed to a knife’s sharpness, easier for drawing blood than the syringes of your faction’s truth serum. Of course he would go here, where bullets are no longer how he shapes his syllables to spike into your throat but a real thing. Why bother with figurative pain if you can produce the genuine article?

The two of you had ended up here for precisely opposite reasons. Peter wanted to hurt, you wanted to fight back. Candor is full of self-righteous bullies who believe they’re doing the right thing by being uncommonly cruel to anyone they pass. In Dauntless, everyone is finally on a level playing field. If someone insults you, you fight them, and no amount of callous words can save you then. Talk is nothing if you can’t back it up with prowess. For someone who had to swallow plenty of poison back in Candor, Dauntless is like a holiday.

However, the one thing that makes your paradise fall short is the fact that Peter decided to come here with you. He had made his decision independently of you, of course, but you’re still infuriated about the whole affair. This was supposed to be your fresh start, your one chance to escape your past and become something no one expected of you. That’s the whole point of the Choosing Ceremony, isn’t it? To kill off the old you and transform into the best version of yourself?

That had been your plan, at least, and then Peter had made his choice. You wouldn’t go anywhere but Dauntless even if your entire faction transferred over here, but it did complicate things. You had hoped that you and Peter would always end up on opposite sides of the room, then opposite ends of the faction, and never come in contact again, but as per usual, it looks like Peter isn’t much inclined to follow your whims.

From the first day alone, you knew he was going to be trouble. You were one of the first to jump, fresh off the exhilaration of the free fall plunge from the top of the roof, and reeling in the lingering aftereffects of your largest adrenaline rush to date while waiting for the jumpers to take their turns off the edge. The room was crowded, more so with each new jumper to make their move, yet somehow in all that chaos, Peter managed to find you. It didn’t bode well for the remainder of initiation, to say the least.

You had been hoping that the two of you could exchange silent, wary eye contact and then move on, your past shattered and gone for good, but instead Peter wove his way through the throngs of people and came to a stop by your side.

“Look who we have here,” he says, drawing the words out, “Y/N L/N. I never thought you’d have the guts to come here.”

“And I always thought you’d be too much of a coward to leave Candor,” you reply. “Looks like we were both wrong.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he chuckles, evidently not expecting your retort. “Careful, L/N. Didn’t know you had such a sharp tongue.”

“You’ve known me for years,” you say, eyeing him coldly. “If you didn’t know that, you’re about to be very surprised indeed. I hope you didn’t set your hopes on making first place in initiation, Hayes, or you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

Up ahead, one of the initiation leaders is calling for the trainees to fall in after him. You take this opportunity to breeze past Peter, who’s standing there and staring openly, mouth agape. You’ve put up with his bullshit for many years now, always taking it silently in fear of jeopardizing your position in your faction, but no longer. You’re on even footing again for the first time in a very long time, and you have absolutely no intention of ever caving to Peter Hayes again.

For Peter, it seems, your decision is a very rude awakening. You immediately fling yourself into the intricacies of fighting and running and shooting, which causes you to rise quickly through the ranks of initiates, much to Peter’s chagrin. Although he’ll tell anyone in earshot that he’s only letting you do so well because he thinks it’s funny to watch you struggle, you can see the panic in Peter’s eyes when you crush one fight after another. You meant what you said, after all. It’s first place or nothing, and you don’t intend on settling for anything where Peter’s concerned.

Your rivalry becomes just as well known among your new friends in Dauntless as it was back in Candor. Hardly a day goes by without you and Peter getting in each other’s way, whether it be slamming each other into the ground during a fighting match in the ring or running yourselves ragged in an attempt to be faster, stronger, better. It’s like you can’t get away from him.

Everywhere you go, Peter is there too. Staying late after initiation to get some more practice with throwing knives, he just so happens to choose the target right beside you. Walking over to the training gym in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep and might as well use the empty hours to improve, Peter seems to have the same bright idea to practice with the punching bags even despite the midnight hour. You don’t like the fact that Peter seems to have such a good knack for telling when you’re awake or asleep, you have half a mind that he might get frustrated of the close competition and take you out while you were sleeping, but he’s never gone that far.

Your friends seem to have a different view of the whole affair. Every time you complain to them about Peter never letting you have a moment’s peace, Tris and Christina, your closest friends in initiation, just exchange knowing looks and begin to tease you. They seem convinced that Peter doesn’t hate you but actually harbors a crush, which is beyond you. There’s no earthly way that Peter likes you. The two of you have despised each other since before you could talk. The whole idea is absurd.

Still, if you were nothing more than an unknowing bystander, you supposed you could see how the situation might be misconstrued. A lifetime of truth-telling in you has to admit that maybe it is a little suspicious that you and Peter can’t seem to go an hour or two without running into each other, that Peter is both your greatest threat and the object of your every waking thought. It’s just because you want to beat him so badly, of course. Of course. If it weren’t, though. If you were thinking of him not because of hatred but for something more–

You wouldn’t. You would never be so foolish. This is how Peter wins, by twisting his way inside your mind until you’re second-guessing every single thing he does, and you’d die before you let him win. If he’s willing to play the game, though, you’ll do anything to beat him at his own technique, so you up the ante and repeat it right back to him.

Sarcastic comments slip from your tongue whenever you see him. When Four takes the initiates out on guided runs, you make sure you’re jogging right by Peter the whole time, your pace steadily increasing until both of you end each race at a sprint. The rest of the trainees have learned to leave two targets side by side for you two whenever it’s time for sharpshooting practice, and heaven help the hapless initiate who asks one of you to spar as if the other wasn’t standing right there, guarding their territory.

It doesn’t mean anything, though. You still hate Peter to the ends of the earth, and everyone around you had better know it, too. You despise him as much as it’s physically possible for a human being to hate anyone, but then he starts spending a lot of time with someone else, and suddenly the hatred is far harder to come by than it ever was, and you’re not sure what to do with yourself at all.

He’s spending time with another girl. Which isn’t bad, of course. He’s got friends. You do too. But. One time at dinner, you heard Tris saying that he’s looking at the girl the same way he used to look at you, and she wasn’t talking about hate, and you cannot tell whether you were supposed to deny that he’d ever done anything but hate you or be furious at this new girl for stealing his attention away from you, so you didn’t answer at all. You didn’t sleep a wink that night, and gave up a few hours in to try and train some more. He didn’t follow. He always follows. Not this time, though, and when you came back, he was quietly whispering with the other girl. Hatching sinister plans, no doubt, or planning to stab someone in the back. He didn’t even look at you when he came in. It was like he didn’t even care.

You feel sick to your stomach. You intentionally ask other trainees to spar in the ring– look, Peter isn’t the only one capable of moving on– but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. You want to slam your hands against his chest and shout in his face, do anything to make him look at you, but instead you stay sullen and quiet and pretend like nothing has changed even though everything, everything, has.

It hits you, about two weeks later, what the problem is. Like a lightning strike in the dark of night, all of a sudden you know, a knowledge that had been blank and absent before but totally unavoidable now. You like Peter. Hell, you might even love him, if you gave him that chance in your heart. Peter might have liked you, but you brushed him off for so long that he moved on.

It hurts like a jagged hole in your heart. Someone has reached inside and broken your ribs to claw this feeling out from where you’ve so cleverly hidden it, and there’s no disguising the horror of the wound now. You couldn’t escape it if you tried.

You found out this truth about yourself in the middle of a Dauntless party, and it kills your mood completely. You can’t stand the loud music or flashing lights anymore, so you put down your half-empty cup on one of the debris-strewn surfaces and make your way out. No one notices you leave. You’re a ghost on the outskirts of a celebration of life, and there is nothing here for you anymore.

You wander until you end up on the bridge overlooking the pit near the center of the Dauntless complex. You stand as close to the edge as you can, hands gripping the flimsy railing until you’re not sure your fingers could peel away from the rusting metal if you tried. If you’d felt any buzz from the party at all, you’ve sobered up by now. You have no idea how long you’ve been standing here, skin chilled by the drafts of the pit, and then a voice sounds from behind you, and you’re abruptly dragged back to reality once more.

“I thought you’d be back in there with the rest,” Peter says, coming to a stop beside you.

You don’t dare to look at him, opting instead to keep your eyes firmly trained on the drop over the edge of the pit. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Peter sounded genuinely curious when he asked, but your tone is harsher, colder. You still haven’t forgiven him for moving on just when you realized that you liked him, and it’s leaching into your voice. Peter chuckles even still. “No, not me. The best part just left.”

You risk a glance his way, and to your surprise, he’s looking at you. “Are you being honest with me, Peter?” You ask.

His face twists into chagrin. “Looks like we can’t beat the Candor out of ourselves after all, even despite all the training sessions we’ve pulled. I’ve tried, though.”

“You’ve done a good job,” you muse. “It’s me who needs to be fixed the most.”

Peter’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

You shake your head. Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Says who?” Peter asks plainly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You regard him suspiciously. “You haven’t always.”

Peter has the grace to look embarrassed. “I’ve done things I regret.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, and laugh to hide your heartbreak. “I know you, Peter Hayes. I know what you do. I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

“It worked before?” Peter asks, genuinely surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

This time you do laugh for real. “Why would I? And give you another weakness to exploit?”

Peter flinches as if you’ve slapped him. “I deserve that, probably, but I’ve been trying to be better.”

“Why?” You ask. “You’ve never cared what I thought, and you certainly don’t care about being better. Nothing about you makes sense, Peter. You’ve got a girl back there in the party who’s probably looking for you now, but instead you’re trying to apologize to me. You’ve never cared about that before.”

“But I do now,” Peter says, voice unexpectedly strong. When he turns the force of his gaze back on you again, you feel totally rooted in place, unable to move even if you wanted to. And, when he starts to move closer to you, one hand coming to rest on top of your fingers, you’re not sure that you do. “I do care. I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks.”

“I thought you were excellent at telling the truth,” you whisper.

“So did I,” Peter replies. Hesitates, then says, “Only other people’s truth, it turns out. You were always my best secret. I wanted to keep you the most.”

Your breath sticks to your lungs, refusing to grant you release. None of this makes sense. Peter would never– But he is now, standing in front of you, telling you as much as he can. Peter still wants you. It’s up to you if you want him, too.

After everything he’s done to you over the years, you owe him nothing at all. He’s hurt you more times than you could count. When you’re cold, bitterly cold, freezing down to the bone with no way of rescue save your own rough and ragged principles, you burn everything around you. Clothes, shoes, furniture. Even people. Peter burned you, and so severe was the flame of your mutual hatred that it made it impossible for anything to grow between the two of you but a jealous wrath.

Peter has left the cold of Candor and traded in his shivering bones for Dauntless’ natural warmth, and now he finally has the room to put out the fire again. He’s stamped out the inferno, or tried to, at least; but upon inspecting the last flattened spark, Peter can’t tell if he went too far. It is immensely difficult for him to discern if he has left anything of you but char and ash.

What could have been a beautiful thing went up in smoke the moment he first raised a harsh word against you. Peter loves the truth, loves most of all to twist it, but in the end, the truth cannot help him here. Peter knows what he wants the truth to be, but the truth is no substitute for reality. It is up to you if you can ever forgive him, and no amount of pretty words on Peter’s end can change that.

It’s up to you, and for the first time since you came to Dauntless, you know precisely what you want. “I know what you mean,” you tell him carefully.

Peter’s face cracks in a tentative smile. “You know? So you–”

“I do,” you interrupt. “I like you, Peter.”

You have seen Peter furious, filled with righteous vengeance. You’ve seen him bloody and bruised on the other end of a sparring ring. You thought that the brightest emotion you’d ever see on him was the pure flame of hatred, but it turns out there’s one thing better than wrath, and that’s sheer, incandescent joy. He wears it now like the finest of luxuries, and you decide that you’d like to see it many times again. As it turns out, you’ll have plenty of chances.

divergent tag list: @blondsauduun, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @crazyhearttragedy, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @alex-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#peter hayes #peter hayes imagines #peter hayes x reader #peter hayes oneshot #divergent #divergent imagines #divergent x reader #divergent oneshot #divergent peter #divergent peter imagines #divergent peter x reader #divergent peter oneshot #dauntless #divergent fanfic

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