#i just think this is explanation for why the did what they did makes sense

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four (JYH x reader).

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

SUMMARY:

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

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

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 24.1k.

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

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

POSTED: february 2nd 2025.

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

masterlist - part one - part two. part three.

You dream about him. Every night. 

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

A rotten brain for a rotten person. 

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

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

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

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

Everything you touch seems to turn to shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yay. 

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

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

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

And he's looking right at you, too. 

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

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

“Stop it.” 

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

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

“Keep quiet, the meeting is starting.” 

Oh, how you love winning. 

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

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

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

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

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

Just like he held you that night. 

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

Nothing has changed much. 

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

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

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

“The new company sales are lower than expected.” 

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

God fucking damnit.

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

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

And now has come back in full force. 

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

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

“Something definitely happened, hm?” 

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

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

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

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

He doesn't know any better. 

You don't know any better, either. 

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

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

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

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

Yay. 

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

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

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

Is not like Yunho cares that much about you anyway!

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

Which sucks. 

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

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

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

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

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

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

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

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Soohyun hyung doesn’t mind?”

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

“Cool, cool.” 

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

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

You gulp. 

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

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

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

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

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

“What happened was a mistake.” 

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

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

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

“Y/N.” 

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

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

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

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

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

Well, a lot.

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

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

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Perspective?”

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

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

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

“Why not?!” 

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

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

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

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

That’s part of the reason. 

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

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

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

It’s a weapon you can use. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” 

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

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

And it hurts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t. 

“Thanks for letting me know.”

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

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

You don’t really deserve his love. 

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

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

You grab the mouse. 

Ah, the proposal. Of course. 

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, somebody has to work.” 

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

“That’s hardly working, Soohyun.” 

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

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

“And?”

“I deserve respect and zero questioning.” 

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

“Is Gunho oppa okay?” 

Your brother frowns “Of course he is.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m— Why are you asking?” 

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

“You look distraught.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I won’t approve this.” 

Definitely not what you wanted to hear. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You want to—” 

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

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

“I’m doing something for the company!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tell him everything that night. 

Yunho hasn’t seen you in three months. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not in the way his mom suggested, anyway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha! 

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

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

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

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

“N-no.”

“Right.” 

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

“Your friend Park Seonghwa has amazing taste.” 

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

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

What? 

“W-what?” 

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

“Hyung…”

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

He didn’t. Not at all. 

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

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

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

Yunho blinked, confused. 

“Oh.”

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

The four of you. Including him and Gunho. 

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

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

He sounded like you.

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

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

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

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

He missed you already, too. 

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

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

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

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

He could just ask you. 

He–

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

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

“Holy shit, Mingi!” 

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

“You scared the shit out of me!”

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

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

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

“Because everything’s f—” 

“No, it’s not!” 

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

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

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

“I kissed Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She died?!” 

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

“Oh, that’s right! You told us—”

“I lied.”

“What?” 

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

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

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

“It kind of is, though.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, that party?” 

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

“Are you calling your girlfriend a dumbass?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that he hears it like that…

“Basically, yeah.” 

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

“Dude!” 

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

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

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

“I didn’t feel anything.” 

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

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

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

That, Mingi knows. “Mhm.”

“And so does Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

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

And his heart drops to his ass. 

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

“Was that…?” 

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

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

“Holy fuck.” 

“What do I do?” 

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

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

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

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

At least for a little bit. 

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

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

“H-hello?” 

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

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

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

Mingi? 

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

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

Mingi was right. You are a dumbass. 

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

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

Freedom. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you came back a week ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I don’t know about that…” 

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

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

“What’s all of this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, um…” 

“I can stay until he comes back.” 

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

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

“To dancing?” 

Yeosang nods. 

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

He smiles, softly, endeared almost.

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

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

“Yeah! It suits you, actually.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.” 

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

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

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

He misses you. 

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

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

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

Because it is. 

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

“Hey!” 

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

“Turn around, Yunho.” 

“What?” 

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

So he does. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She was here?” 

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

“When?” 

“An… hour and something ago.” 

“Where did she go?” 

“Are you okay?” 

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

He needs to calm down. 

He needs to read the letter. He’s–

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

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

“Oh.” 

“So fucking much.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you still told Yeosang where you are staying. 

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

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

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

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

You’re chilling, you’re cool. 

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

He’s probably not showing up. 

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

“Yunho!” 

“Y/N…” 

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

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

You missed him so much. 

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho raises his hand, the one holding your letter. 

“What’s this?” 

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

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

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

“Read it to me.” 

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

“Didn’t you—” 

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

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

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

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

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

Sniffing because you feel uncomfy and vulnerable, you continue.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kim Y/N, you big dummy.” 

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

“Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

It feels like coming come. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay—”

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

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

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

“Like home.”

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

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

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

“You did hear the conversation though?” 

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

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

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

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

“I missed you so much, my love.” 

Oh.

Fuck. 

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

“You liked that I called you that?”

“Shut up.”

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

You tear up again. 

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

For a good reason, too. 

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” 

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

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

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

“So when I kissed you…”

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

“Because you have no bitc—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

“Blond?” 

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

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

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

“And If they did?” 

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

In your own terms.

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

“Princess…” 

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

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

And it makes you giddy with anticipation. 

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

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

It was because you liked it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, you know exactly why. 

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

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

“We don't have to—” 

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

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

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

He frowns. 

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you have to turn off the light. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He understands. 

You love him so much. 

“Open your eyes, princess.” 

You do. 

“Look at yourself.” 

You don't. You look at him instead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You smell so fucking good.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, trust me princess, I know.” 

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” 

“Every night?” 

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

“Fuck.” 

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

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

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

But now you can't help yourself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you are.” 

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

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

Yunho curses under his breath again. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yunho…”

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

You give in almost immediately. 

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

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

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

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

“Can I take this off you?” 

You take a breath before replying “Yes.” 

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

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

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

“Should I?” 

“Yunho… Stop teasing me.” 

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

“But you look so pretty in it.” 

Your skin heats up harder than ever before. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, look at you.” 

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

“Is this okay?” 

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

“I said, look at yourself.” 

You do. 

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

Yunho is right there to catch you, though. 

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

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

“Still okay?” 

You nod. 

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

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

Oh, my God. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lesson learned?” 

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

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

“W-wait.” 

“Yeah?” 

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

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

You breathe out a moan in response.

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

A little shy but with resolve, you nod. 

He curses. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.” 

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

“Do you?”

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

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

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

“Let me taste it now.” 

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

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

“You taste so fucking good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me how you like it.”

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

“Yunho…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m—” 

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

Huh?

“W-what?”

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

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

“Come, Y/N.”

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

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

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

“You… Jeong Yunho…” 

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

“My turn.” 

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

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

“You’re too dressed, Jeong.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can see that, Jeong.” 

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

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

“Make love to me.” 

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

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

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

And it all passes really fast, too. 

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

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

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

You decide to break the silence when you remember something. 

“I think they forgot my room service.” 

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

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

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

“That’s worse, Jeong!” 

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

“Mhm.” 

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

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

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

“I forgot you were famous.” 

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

“Supposed to?” He frowns. 

“Well, yes, to the public at least.” 

Yunho pouts. 

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

“Are you not my girlfriend, Y/N?” 

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

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

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

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

“What?” You look up at him again. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it back, Y/N.” 

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

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

“A week ago.” 

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

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

“I’m sure my mother does.” 

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

You open your eyes “What project?” 

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

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

“Did you have fun on the trip?” 

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

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

“I missed you a lot, though.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

© jensthwa, 2025.

[jejelovescats]

My analysis on Spy X Family chapter 111

well uhm today's chapter was something initially I though the chapter was too short to write about, but we did get valuable information, and writing isn't only about the present, it's also about the past and future so I've been thinking about this for a few hours and here's what I've found. First point I'd like to make was way back in chapter 1, we got a very brief introduction about Anya, it was stated that she was an unintentional consequence of research experiments and that she had later escaped the facility.

Now since the chapter was quite short, many statements I make can be far-fetched. Alright now, when they said, "unintentional consequence of research experiments" they could've simply meant that the woman (who Anya refers to as "mama") could have just gotten pregnant and called that "unintentional consequence" and when stated "research experiments" they could have simply meant her mother. Now I said "the woman who Anya refers to as "mama"," because she could still be a woman who Anya has grown fond of and called 'mama', this is quite unlikely and I believe that she is her biological mother, still just a thought Now we ask ourselves, in chapter 111, was that a lab? my answer: yes, I do quite think so why? if you look closely, on the back of both Anya and her (probably) biological mother, there are strings holding the dress from behind like a lot of hospital clothing..

And one panel that really stood out to me was this one. Some people theorized previously that if Anya were to have a biological parent, they'd be the reason of her being held captive in the lab. This has been debunked after today's chapter. It seems that Anya's biological mother wanted freedom just as much Anya did, she's a victim in this too. Another point I'd like to make is that Anya's mother probably helped free Anya (as stated in chapter one, all it said was that she escaped, doesn't mean no one helped her) since she knew she couldn't escape herself. The symbolism is symbolizing 🙂‍↕️

Now this is where we ask ourselves, where is Anya's mom? my answer: Probably dead. Why else would she have cried on the interview day? She appeared to be very close to her mother in today's chapter and it would explain her tears. She could also just be trapped in the lab, but I find the first explanation more logical, even though they're both a possibility, that's just my opinion.

Something else, are Anya's powers inherited? probably, they could have messed up with the mother's DNA and passed it on to Anya, and they experimented further on Anya to further develop her powers Last thing, the hair. we saw in chapter 1 that Anya had her hair in buns, as well as today with her mother, and present Anya always has those cone shaped hairpieces on her hair, we've never seen her without them. why? no idea I've gathered a bunch of theories that are plausible 1) they have some type/form of horns hidden underneath their buns 2) scars now the scars would make sense for 2 reasons 1) Donovan, who's probably a mind reader (though we can't verify Melinda as an accurate source) has scars on his head as well, now even though the placement isn't the same, they're still scars. 2) They want to convince their selves they're normal people

hear me out. A woman and her daughter are both trapped in a lab, being experimented on, they have scars, won't hiding them give them some sense of normalcy?

And also, the fact that Anya asked Yor if she could read her mind, the poor kid is looking for anything that might remind her of her mother, in the chapter, her face wasn't shown, just like Loid's flashback. I also noticed while Anya was dreaming that she held bond quite tightly, I think that's because she was trying to hold out to her mother.

well, I did NOT expect to write this much given the length of the chapter😂 can you tell that this was VERY rushed? Since loid did mention that she was sleeping before her bedtime, that probably means that when Anya sleeps again, she'll dream of her mother once again. well, that's me rambling! hope you enjoyed! please feel free to share your thoughts or any more thoughts you might have! okay but isn't baby Anya just adorable? SEE Y'ALL IN 2 WEEKS<333

[hoiststowline]

responses to “don’t come over, I look like a mess” [w/ sunstreaker, cliffjumper, ratchet, bluestreak, hound & ironhide]

_

“What? No. What did you say? That doesn’t make any sense, I’m coming over anyways,”:

• Sunstreaker is probably the biggest repeat offender on this one, and he uses it in other situations, too. he suddenly can’t comprehend and doesn’t allow you to explain yourself, though he and you full well know he understands. grumbles the whole ‘you’re breaking up!’ schtick. pretends to drive through a tunnel when he’s forty-five seconds away (where there is no tunnels) just to hang up without letting you say a peep. he won’t leave either, so you comply and come to see him, or you will be hearing his horn for the better part of the evening.

• a second guilty charge is aimed straight at Cliffjumper. somehow, there is never any time to explain and he’s in a huge hurry, and he’s only calling you as a courtesy so you’ll be outside and ready to go. If you even get a word in, mentioning weakly you look like shit or don’t feel up to seeing him, he’ll hang up. He can’t hear your lies if he literally can’t hear them or something like that. but once he pulls up and you aren’t outside, now you’ve done it, though he never directs the frustration at you. but if he’s in such a big hurry, wouldn’t he have left by now? Surely doesn’t have the time to wait around- and he’s yelling that you look fine from the street.

“That suspiciously sounds like you just made that up. at what point has that ever stopped me before?”:

• Ratchet will express that in so many words, but his concern will triumph over most things. He’s worried by your misplaced and unusual deflection, partial to looking for his company when it’s often unattainable. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but in the spare moments he does have, he uses them to see you. So when you decline his request, he’s still coming over, hell or high water. Whatever you’re wearing or whatever you’re doing he’s fine being in the company of, so your excuses are paper thin. You don’t sound sick, but he’s gotta be certain of that...

• “yeah, a hot mess!” Bluestreak tried, you’ll give him points there. “…that’s what you meant, right?” Unsettled and nervous chatter arises on his behalf when you can’t quite articulate why you feel so messy, and he immediately begins pressing for answers. there's a full minute where he thinks he did something wrong, and just when you console him that he didn't, you can already hear his wheels burning rubber in the background. hah, good luck stopping him, he's already halfway to your place, and cannot fathom why you looking a little messy would ever prohibit him from coming over. he'll be wary and uneasy the rest of the ride, wanting to get to the root of your woes.

“You always look beautiful, but if you’re not up to company that’s okay,”:

• Hound sorta understands, yet doesn't quite completely in regards to your explanation. though he's disheartened by a handful of things- one that you don't feel up to par outwardly and think that he cares what you are wearing or how you look in this very moment. you always look perfect to him, and your comment only fuels an unsteady flame that makes him think something else is very wrong. but he won't pry or shoulder his way in, he knows you'll come around when you're ready to talk, being supportive as always. he won't argue, he's straight to the point: no, you don't look a mess. he doesn't have to see you to know that, he knows, and to call him whenever you're ready for his company because he'll be over in a heartbeat.

• if anyone gets it, it's Ironhide. your excuse is garbage and untrue, but he'll kid around and poke fun just to get you to laugh. "What, did you just wake up or somethin'?" He really misses your company if you end up canceling, but he makes sure you know that you always look good to him, no matter what. he ultimately respects your boundaries for a couple of hours, and then he's circling your block to make sure you're still alive in there. radio silence is unforgiving, but as much as he misses you, he doesn't want to cross the imaginary line that is your patience. something else must be wrong for you to disappear into your room for the majority of the day, and he intends to get to the bottom of it by the evening.

[mrspiastri]

filmy dialogues 🎞️

pairing: oscar piastri x desi! reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.5k words

an: ty anon for this request! i loved writing it!! <4

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡

"And which one is this again?" Oscar asked as he settled in to watch the movie Y/N had picked out.

"It's a Bollywood movie! You're gonna love it—it was my favorite growing up."

"Is it one of those romance ones?"

Oscar was a bit of a bore when it came to movies. His favorite genre was sci-fi, while Y/N's was rom-coms. Naturally, choosing a movie to watch was always a challenge.

"Well… yes and no. It's like a heist movie, but it has a bit of everything in it, really."

"I don't trust your judgment since you made us watch that movie with those nepo babies."

"That was a mistake on my part, I agree. But this one is so good, I promise."

Movie nights were a staple of the couple’s routine, especially since Oscar was usually busy on weekends. Each week, they took turns picking a movie and rated it based on what they liked most about it. Last week, Oscar had made Y/N watch one of the Star Wars movies. While she wasn’t completely floored, she did agree that Hayden Christensen was a cutie.

"I've got the perfect one. It's called ‘Happy New Year’, and it’s iconic.”

"Very well, bring it on."

🎞️🎞️🎞️

The movie started. They skipped through the opening credits and got to the scene where Charlie's father gets framed.

"How did they just put him in jail? Wouldn't there be a formal investigation? Plus, he remembers being drugged. This is quite unrealistic," Oscar said, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N let out a sigh, already used to her boyfriend's antics.

"I'm sure they had one, but he was up against a really powerful guy, you know?"

Oscar nodded, not entirely convinced but not completely dismissing the explanation either. They continued watching, Y/N snuggling further into the couch and against her boyfriend's shoulder. It was an unspoken ritual of sorts—she would gently bump her head against his shoulder repeatedly until he laughed and wrapped his arms around her.

"How did he just hack the voting polls? This is part of a global competition. They have to have better firewalls. Also, Team Diamond was terrible—they got booed off stage! How is everyone just accepting that they won?"

Oscar was a yapper, especially during movies.

Y/N rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her (his) Sprite. "I mean, they have a hacker on their team. It’s possible."

"Yeah, he's like 19, doing all his hacking from a laptop. A regular DELL laptop. Not even a good computer with a proper processor," Oscar grumbled, stuffing some popcorn into his mouth.

She giggled. "Well, maybe he's just that good. Besides, you don’t even know how to hack."

"That’s beside the point, and you know it."

Eventually, they reached the movie’s climax, with things heating up for the team. Y/N sat staring at the screen like she didn’t already know exactly what was going to happen next—despite having watched the movie six times before.

"Wait, so they just enter the vault with him? How does that work?" Oscar continued, pointing out the movie’s logical flaws.

"I mean, they’re lookalikes, so yeah."

"But that fingerprint probably wouldn’t work. It’s been tampered with, so it should come across as invalid."

"Why are they exiting through the sewers? They could just leave normally. This makes no sense."

"Why are they returning?! Now they’ll get arrested!"

If there was one thing Oscar would do, it was interrupt a romantic date with dumb questions.

"Maybe you shouldn’t focus so much on the movie’s accuracy, you know?" Y/N teased. "Think instead about how good Deepika looks in that saree." She winked at him.

"You’d look better anyway, and this movie’s too stupid for me not to point out everything wrong with it."

"But that's the fun, right? You don’t need to think too much while watching. Just laugh at the funny stuff and roll your eyes at the dumb moments. It’s still enjoyable. Also, I never look that good in a saree. That’s why I don’t wear them anymore," she said.

"I think you need to stop choosing the movies from next time. And yes, you do look good! I've seen the photos where you wore that blue one!"

Oscar turned Y/N’s body, which had been leaning against his chest, so that she was facing him.

"That was taken when I was in the twelfth grade! I wore it for my graduation, and it looked dumb then too."

"Well, I think you looked beautiful, and you should wear one to that Diwali party we’re going to."

She looked away, cheeks pink.

"I don’t know… it’s such a hassle to drape one. I can’t even do it without my mom’s help."

"I’m right here, aren’t I? I’ll help." He cheerfully tugged her closer to his chest, resting his head on top of hers. She could hear—almost feel—his heartbeat quicken. It was a subtle reminder that even after all this time, Oscar still got butterflies around Y/N.

"It’s super tricky, especially with the pleats. You sure you can help?" she asked, doing her best to speak from where she was trapped under him.

"I’ll try my best, darling. You’ll look better than Deepika too." He chuckled, making Y/N laugh as well, feeling the vibrations of his laughter through where her head was resting.

"Now, forget about that. I wanna watch them dance and win at the finale!" She wriggled out of his hold, reaching for the remote to unpause the movie.

"Hey, no spoilers!"

"You knew that was going to happen!"

🎞️🎞️🎞️

The movie played on, the sounds of Bollywood music filling the room as the final dance number unfolded. Y/N, grinning, hummed along while Oscar groaned dramatically.

“I swear, if they win despite all the cheating—”

“They will win,” she cut in smugly.

Oscar rolled his eyes but didn’t complain further. His arm tightened around her, absentmindedly playing with her fingers. Y/N glanced up at him, finding that—despite all his so-called complaints—he was watching the screen with a slight smile.

"You're secretly enjoying it, aren’t you?" she accused playfully.

"I am not," he denied immediately, though the way his foot tapped to the music betrayed him.

Y/N smirked, scooting closer. "It’s okay, you can admit it."

Oscar sighed dramatically. "Fine. It’s slightly entertaining."

"Aha! I knew it!"

She leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Maybe next time, you’ll actually pick a Bollywood movie yourself."

"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves," Oscar muttered, though his cheeks were pink now too.

They spent the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, save for Y/N’s occasional giggles and Oscar’s inevitable complaints. But when the credits rolled and Y/N stretched, ready to turn the TV off, she felt a pair of arms tighten around her waist.

"Five more minutes, let’s watch the final song,” Oscar mumbled into her hair.

Y/N smiled. "You like cuddling more than watching the movie, don’t you?"

"Maybe."

"That, I’ll allow," she whispered, settling against him once more.

As the grand finale song played, Oscar let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples.

"I don’t know how I just sat through two and a half hours of absolute madness,” he grumbled. "They danced their way into a vault, Y/N. A vault!"

Y/N, completely unbothered, swayed along to the music. "And they looked fabulous while doing it."

Oscar turned to her, suddenly dramatic. "You know what? Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe I need to embrace the bollywoodness of it all."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?"

He dramatically placed a hand on his heart, took a deep breath, and, with all the seriousness he could muster, attempted a line he had definitely not practiced enough.

“Pyaar… dosti hai, Y/N. Aur agar woh… sabse… accha dost nahi ban… sak—wait, what’s the word?"

Y/N blinked. "Ban sakta?"

"Yeah, that. Ban sakta… toh main usko… kabhi love nahi kar sakta!”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Y/N burst out laughing. "That was the most accented Bollywood line I’ve ever heard!”

Oscar groaned. "Oi, cut me some slack! Hindi is hard!"

"It is," Y/N giggled, still shaking her head. "But you get points for effort."

Oscar leaned back into the couch, shaking his head. "I swear, your movies make it sound so easy. Everyone's just casually breaking into song, dropping poetic love lines, hacking government servers with a budget laptop—"

"That’s the magic of it."

He turned to look at her, her face still lit up from laughing, her eyes sparkling as she hummed along to the credits song.

Oscar sighed, shaking his head. "You know what? Maybe I should start watching more of these. Get my Hindi right. Who knows, I might actually end up enjoying one of them."

Y/N gasped. "Wait—are you saying you’ll finally watch ‘Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham’ with me?"

Oscar groaned. "I walked right into that, didn’t I?"

"Absolutely."

He sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips as he pulled her closer. "Fine. But I’m allowed to complain."

"You always do."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Fair."

And as the music played on, he had to admit—maybe Bollywood wasn't all bad, especially if he had her next to him singing along to all the songs.

my first request!! i was so geeked about this lol. also im sorry if you haven’t watched happy new year but it is unfortunately one of my favourites so go watch it rn its so stupidly good haha <4

[soluversworld]

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 6!) Final (Rushed)-(Sfw!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!-(new tws)

Words: 10000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

(Reader is G.N)-(This part is Sfw!)

Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You’re his and he’s yours…

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

Dubious Consent: Themes of physical closeness and intimacy while one party is incapacitated or pretending to be.

Dark Romanticization: Romanticizing toxic and unhealthy dynamics, including possessiveness and dominance.

Control and Power Imbalance: One character exhibits significant control over the other’s vulnerability.

You worked on preparing something in the kitchen, your focus wavered, and before you knew it, you accidentally called out to Sol the way Hyugo always did—“Sunny.”

He blinked, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion as he tilted his head. “Sunny?”

Realizing your slip, you quickly clarified, chuckling nervously. “Sorry, it’s just… Hyugo calls you that. I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could finish, Sol interrupted, his curiosity piqued. “If Hyugo gets to give me a nickname, why can’t you?”

The suggestion made you pause. A nickname for Sol? That felt… oddly intimate. But you couldn’t deny the idea was a little exciting. Your mind raced for something that felt fitting, something uniquely yours to call him.

“Pumpkin,” you blurted out, testing the waters.

Sol’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his crimson-orange eyes lighting up at the suggestion. “Pumpkin, huh?” he repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue. He seemed pleased at first but then placed a finger under his chin, his gaze turning thoughtful as he studied you.

“But,” he began slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, “don’t you think that nickname suits you better?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

He nodded, his tone calm and resolute. “Yes, it suits you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you processed his words. “It’s the nickname you want me to have, huh?” you asked, trying to sound playful, but the warmth in his gaze was almost too much to handle.

“It fits you,” he said simply, smiling as if that was all the explanation needed.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words lingered in the air. Of course, you knew exactly why it felt so familiar. Pumpkin. It was the name he whispered when he thought you were asleep, the name he muttered under his breath during those nights he lingered too close for too long. You bit your lip, trying to push the thought away before it consumed you entirely.

“…I always hear this nickname in my dreams,” you muttered absentmindedly, immediately regretting it when you saw Sol’s eyes widen in surprise. You quickly waved your hand to dismiss it. “Ah, it’s nothing, really.”

But Sol’s reaction was something else entirely. His face softened into a look of pure adoration, as if the idea that you might dream of him made his heart burst. That realization seemed to make him… happy. Dangerously happy.

You coughed awkwardly and tried again. “Alright, how about… babygirl?”

The moment the word left your lips, Sol’s eyes widened like saucers before he let out an uncharacteristic snicker. His shoulders shook as he tried to stifle his reaction, but within seconds, he broke into full laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over.

“Ahahahaha!” he laughed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Bitch! I’m serious! Stop laughing!” you exclaimed, your face burning with embarrassment. “You’re so cute—ahhh…” That last part slipped out in a mumble, but you couldn’t take it back now.

Sol wiped at his eyes, his laughter finally settling as he caught his breath. “I have no idea where you got that idea, but I’m clearly far from being a… babygirl.” He snickered again, shaking his head. “It’s cute, though.”

“Husband?”

Sol choked on his breath the moment the words left your lips. His head snapped to the side as he desperately tried to hide the deep crimson blush spreading across his cheeks. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t suppress the ridiculously goofy smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, god,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly. “You… want to… ahaha—”

You grinned at his flustered state, deciding to push him further.

“Are you sure?” he stammered, glancing at you nervously. “Don’t you think people are going to, you know, take it the wrong way if you start calling me your husband, Y/n?”

You leaned forward, propping your chin in your hand with a teasing glint in your eyes. “I don’t care,” you said with a shrug, smirking at how his blush deepened. “But I think you’ll die of shyness before anyone else says anything.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes darting everywhere except at you.

“I mean, you do give off husband vibes,” you continued with a giggle.

Sol’s gaze immediately dropped to his lap, his fingers nervously fumbling with the edge of his sleeve as he mumbled under his breath, “You’re killing me…Y/n”

You giggled harder, relishing his reaction. “Alright, alright! I’ll think of something else. But hey—‘husband’ would be so cute, wouldn’t it?”

His ears turned an even darker shade of red as he tried to compose himself, but he was clearly losing the battle.

“This is the final one then!” you declared with a triumphant smile. “Love.”

Sol froze, his entire body stiffening at the sound of the word. A visible shiver ran up his spine as his wide eyes finally met yours.

“L-Love?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, grinning like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse.

The tips of his ears practically glowed crimson as he quickly looked away again, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His leg began to bounce under the table, betraying the nerves he was desperately trying to hide.

“I’m… I’m alright with that,” he finally murmured, his voice unsteady but undeniably sincere.

You couldn’t resist leaning closer, teasing him further. “You sure people won’t take that the wrong way?”

Sol’s lips twitched into a shy smile as he took a deep breath. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he whispered, “I wouldn’t mind, though… let them know. Let them all know that you only belong to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your face heating up despite yourself.

You prided yourself on being observant—sometimes you thought it was a curse, noticing every little thing about him. But now? Watching the way his shy smile betrayed the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface?

It felt like a blessing.

“Should I think of something else?” you teased, tilting your head as you watched his reaction.

Before you could even finish the thought, Sol sat up abruptly, almost standing, his hands raised in a halting gesture as if to physically stop your words from escaping.

“No—‘Love’ is perfect,” he said, his tone firm but laced with a flicker of surprise. His expression was serious, almost too serious, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your face. “Alright, Love,” you said softly, drawing out the word just to see his reaction.

Sol froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before leaning back against the couch. His body seemed to relax, but his eyes told a different story. They were heavy-lidded, clouded with a lovestruck haze, as if the nickname alone had sent him spiraling into a daydream he didn’t want to escape.

His gaze never wavered from you, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. He looked utterly intoxicated, like you’d just become the center of his entire universe—and you savored every second of it.

Your gaze locked with his, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken emotions that threatened to swallow you both whole. Realizing how deep you’d fallen into his stare, you quickly turned away, heat flooding your cheeks.

“I-I need to cook!” you stammered, desperate to break the spell.

You turned toward the kitchen, fumbling with your phone before pulling up a how-to-make-curry video. “Hey, Sol,” you said without looking back, “could you teach me some food art? Like those fancy lunches you used to make for Hyugo?”

Sol tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at your request before a soft, amused smile broke across his face. “You want me to teach you, huh? Sure… But only if I can help.”

“No!” You spun to face him, waving a finger in protest. “You’re injured! Just sit there and be cute.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, his lips forming a perfect pout as he leaned back against the counter. “Fine,” he grumbled, crossing his arms, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

After a moment of gathering ingredients, Sol perked up and began listing off what you’d need for the curry. His voice was calm and instructive, guiding you with ease.

When you finished washing the vegetables, you grabbed the knife, determined to show him you could handle it. But before you could make the first cut, Sol was suddenly beside you, his hand gently covering yours as he slid the knife away.

“Let me,” he said smoothly, picking up the knife and turning to the cutting board with an air of effortless confidence.

“Sol, you’re supposed to be resting!” you scolded, but he ignored you, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

With practiced precision, he chopped each vegetable into perfectly equal pieces, his movements fluid and almost mesmerizing. He finished quickly, setting the knife down with a smug grin.

“Showoff,” you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes at his cocky expression.

“Oh?” His grin widened, and he leaned closer. “You asked for my help, didn’t you?”

Before he could say more, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers brushing over his bandaged knuckles. “You’re hurt,” you reminded him softly, your voice filled with concern.

For a moment, Sol froze, his confident facade cracking as his expression softened. His gaze fell to your hands holding his, and something tender flickered in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But he didn’t pull his hand away.

You held his hand a little tighter, looking up at him with a mix of exasperation and affection. “No more sneaky knife tricks, okay?”

He smiled—soft, genuine, and utterly disarming. “Okay,” he said, but the glint in his eye told you he was already planning his next move.

Sol sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible. But fine, if you’re going to be stubborn, let me at least guide you so you don’t chop a finger off.”

You grabbed the knife, determined to prove yourself. “I can manage just fine!” you huffed, setting the carrot on the cutting board and trying to carve it into a petal shape. The result was… less than perfect.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you—warm, close, and undeniably suffocating. Sol’s hands gently covered yours on the knife, his chest brushing lightly against your back as his breath fanned your ear.

“You’re too tense,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, like honey dripping into your thoughts. “Relax… I’ll show you how.”

Your breath hitched. Relax? How am I supposed to relax when you’re this close?

He adjusted your grip, his hands guiding yours with expert precision. “See? Like this,” he said, his tone a little too soft, a little too seductive.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. The warmth of him pressed against you, the way his fingers curled over yours… it was overwhelming. You felt your cheeks heat up, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“Of course I know what I’m doing,” Sol said out of nowhere, very seriously.

Your heart skipped a beat. “W-What?!”

He paused, confused, then smirked knowingly. “I mean… I do know my ways with knifes.“

Can he read my mind?

Somehow, under his guidance—and despite the mess in your head—you managed to cut a carrot petal perfectly. You stared down at the result, momentarily stunned.

“Well done,” Sol said, his hands still lingering over yours. “Should I show you again, or—”

You practically jumped out of his grasp, spinning around with a sheepish smile. “Nope! Got it! Thanks! All good here!” you blurted, waving your hands frantically.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind helping you again.”

“Nope! I’m fine!” you squeaked, your voice higher than usual.

Sol chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said, stepping back with an air of victory.

Your mind raced as you turned back to the cutting board, gripping the knife tightly to ground yourself. Does he know what kind of effect he has on me?

You groaned internally, deciding then and there to never let him cook with you ever again.

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “No! It’s fine! I got it!” you blurted, jumping up with a Mickey Mouse-like squeak, hands flailing as if trying to prove a point. “I got it right! See?” You turned toward the sink in a panic, trying to wash your hands to do something, anything, to distract yourself from his lingering gaze.

But the thoughts swirled around in your mind like a storm. What was it about him? Why did you feel so… lost in him?

Why was everything he did, every word he spoke, making your heart race like this?

Sol tilted his head, frowning as you adamantly refused to let him help prepare dinner. “I’ll just do something easy then, okay? Like juice. No knives, no heavy lifting—safe and simple.” His tone was calm, but his persistence was unyielding.

You sighed, cornered by his determination. “Fine. Orange juice. That’s it. Nothing else,” you said firmly, though your heart raced for an entirely different reason.

Sol moved toward the counter, pulling out oranges and the juicer, you couldn’t shake the gnawing suspicion creeping into your thoughts. Why does he want to help so badly? It wasn’t that you didn’t trust his skills; you knew he was competent—better than you, even. But the darker part of your mind whispered something sinister: He’s going to drug it. That’s what the sleeping pills in his pocket are for, right?

You shook your head, trying to focus on the curry simmering on the stove. Still, your thoughts kept wandering back to the juice. What if he’s planning to make me fall asleep just so he can…

Your pulse quickened. The idea wasn’t entirely unpleasant, which disturbed you even more. Stop it. You’re the one with the upper hand here, you reminded yourself.

Minutes later, Sol handed you a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a proud smile on his face. “Here. The least painful job, as promised.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, setting it aside on the counter. The curry was boiling hot, nearly ready to serve. You turned off the stove, setting the pot on a trivet. But your mind was already spinning with plans.

“Hey, Sol,” you began, keeping your tone light and casual. “Could you call Hyugo and let him know you’re at my place? You know how he gets if we don’t keep him in the loop.”

Sol raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Your phone’s dead, though.”

“Yeah, but yours isn’t,” you countered smoothly. “Just tell him I dragged you here for dinner. I don’t want him thinking you’re in trouble or anything.”

Sol hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Alright. I’ll go step outside and call him.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you grabbed the glass of juice he’d prepared, a sly grin spreading across your face. Maybe drugged, maybe not, you thought, shaking your head. Doesn’t matter. Not taking chances.

You poured the juice into the sink, washing the glass thoroughly before retrieving a fresh batch from the fridge. You poured the untainted juice into a clean glass, you added a few ice cubes to ensure it would be cold enough to mask any suspicion.

“Let’s see who gets played now,” you muttered under your breath, giggling softly at your own cunning.

The curry was ready, the table set, and the replacement juice sat innocently in its place. You had one last card to play, though—a small vial of medicine you had tucked away. It wasn’t a sedative exactly, but it would mimic the effects, making you feel tired without fully knocking you out. Perfect for your plan.

You dropped a dose into the “safe” glass of juice you’d prepared for yourself. You needed to stay just awake enough to watch Sol’s reaction, to see the cracks in his perfect facade when he thought you were asleep.

Let’s see your demons come out, Sol.

The door opened, and Sol returned, his expression softening as he saw the table set. “Hyugo says hi,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Great,” you replied, motioning for him to sit.

The warmth of the curry lingered on your tongue as you took another bite, humming in delight. Across the table, Sol chuckled softly, savoring his own meal with a small, content smile.

“You should write down the spices you had me add,” you said, swirling the remnants of your curry around with your spoon. “I didn’t think this would turn out so good.”

“Really?” Sol’s eyes sparkled. “You did most of the work. I just pointed a few things out.”

He leaned back, his movements relaxed, yet there was a subtle tension in his frame—like a predator watching its prey.

The conversation drifted to food, and Sol offered casually, “I could send you some of my favorite recipes if you ever want to try making them.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you murmured, smiling faintly.

As the room fell into a quiet rhythm, your thoughts wandered, drawn to him. His presence today had been… overwhelming. From the moment he protected you to cooking beside you in the kitchen, Sol had wormed his way into your life in ways that felt far too intimate. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something deeper, darker.

It felt domestic.

It felt… right.

The thought sent a twisted thrill racing through your veins, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You glanced at Sol, who was casually sipping his juice, his eyes flicking to yours every so often.

You tilted your head back, chugging the last of the orange juice in a single gulp. Sol raised an eyebrow at you, amused, but there was something sharp in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken.

Your breath hitched. The room seemed warmer than before.

What if he did drug it? The idea had been lurking in the back of your mind all night, and now, with every sluggish beat of your heart, you were almost sure.

And yet…

You didn’t feel fear. You felt exhilaration.

Your mind spiraled. Would he take care of me if I passed out? Would he carry me to my room? Or would I wake up to something… darker? Would I see that beautiful, unhinged side of him fully unleashed?

The weight of your eyelids began to drag, and you couldn’t stop the lazy smile creeping onto your lips.

“What time is it?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“8:45,” Sol replied, his voice smooth but low—almost teasing.

You blinked at him, your vision blurring slightly. Your heart raced even as your body started to betray you. You had overdone it on the dose; the sleepy effects were hitting faster than expected.

“I’ve taken too much of your time, Lo—Sol.” You let out a yawn, barely able to hold back a crazed little laugh at how this was all unfolding. “You… should go home. Right? There’s class tomorrow.”

Sol’s expression softened, his smile laced with something… dangerous. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your stomach twist—half fear, half desire.

“No need to worry about me,” he said, leaning in slightly. “I’m happy you let me in. Happy you trusted me enough to treat my wounds, to share dinner.” His words dripped with sincerity, but his gaze… his gaze was anything but innocent.

You tried to lift a hand to his face, to cup his cheek, but your vision swam. There were three of him now, all staring at you, all wearing the same soft, deranged smile.

“You seem tired, pumpkin,” Sol whispered

Your heart stuttered, a crazed, heady feeling overtaking you. This is it. This is what I wanted. Show me more of you, Sol.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, your words slurred. “Just let me get you… something. You need to g-go home, right?”

The glass slipped from your fingers, shattering against the floor. The sound was distant, muffled, like it came from another world.

And then you saw it.

Sol’s smile stretched wider, darker, and his eyes gleamed with an obsession so raw it almost brought you to tears.

God, I love this. You thought, the corners of your lips twitching into the barest of smirks as your body gave in to the drowsiness.

Just before your vision faded, you caught the glint of his teeth as he whispered something you couldn’t quite make out.

It didn’t matter.

You wanted it.

Beyond your hazy, blurred vision, you caught the faint movement of Sol’s smile—serene, calm, yet undeniably dark. His hand pushed away the untouched glass of orange juice, his fingers lingering as if mocking your little game.

You sly bastard, your mind whispered, every word tinged with a delirious, obsessive warmth. God, fuck you… fuck you… I love you.

Your senses still clung to you, though your body betrayed the act. You were awake—barely. Every sound, every tiny motion, was amplified in the fog of your mind. You could hear him move closer, the scrape of his chair on the floor, the soft crunch of glass underfoot as he stepped toward the sink.

You wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t. He knows… maybe not all of it, but enough. Oh, Sol… you brilliant, twisted soul. Take me.

He turned toward the pitcher of orange juice and the abandoned glass, his gaze unreadable. The slight crunch of a packet in his pocket caught your ears, the sound piercing through the fog like a whisper meant only for you.. those pills. So that’s your game. Were you going to play me, Sol? Or were you testing me?

The thought burned into your chest, clawing its way into your obsessive thoughts.

It doesn’t matter. You stayed, didn’t you? You’re still here… with me. God, I’ll let you win this game if you want, just don’t stop playing with me.

You felt his hands—steady, firm—on your shoulders. His touch was everything. Comforting. Possessive. Sinister. His breath, warm against your neck, sent shivers down your spine.

You’re tasting me already, aren’t you? Savoring me.

He inhaled deeply, the sound deliberate, almost indulgent, as if he couldn’t help himself. The soft tremor that followed made your heart leap even in your lethargic haze.

You wanted to moan. But you couldn’t. All you could do was feel.

His voice broke the silence, soft and low, dripping with tenderness and control.

“Let’s get you to bed, pumpkin.”

Your thoughts spiraled. Pumpkin. That name again… it’s mine, isn’t it? Yours. Ours. Say it again. Say it when you think I’m not listening. Say it while you’re watching me.

He slipped an arm beneath your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you with a gentleness that made your skin ache. His strength surprised you, even through his bandaged wounds. He carried you like you were precious. Fragile. His spouse

Your heart hammered, your chest heavy with a love so twisted it felt like it would tear you apart.

This is what I wanted. This is what I fucking dreamed of. Take me, Sol. I don’t care what it looks like. I don’t care what you do. Just don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone. You’re mine as much as I’m yours. I’ll make you see that someday. I’ll show you… no one else can give you this.

You felt the rhythmic sway of his steps as he carried you toward your room, his lips moving softly—words you couldn’t quite catch but that you knew were meant for you.

What are you saying, Sol? Sweet nothings? Promises? Confessions? Tell me. Tell me everything. Tell me while you think I can’t hear. I want to live in your darkness… drown in it. You’re perfect. You’re mine.

He laid you down gently, his hands lingering just a little too long as he adjusted you on the bed.

Sol, Sol, Sol… touch me more. Just a little more. Show me everything. Don’t stop now… don’t ever stop.

You felt the covers pulled over you, the fabric brushing against your skin. His fingers brushed against your temple, lingering, soft but firm.

“Heh… Hahaha… Hahahahaha.” Sol’s laughter rang out, soft but unhinged, dripping with the kind of madness that sent chills down your spine and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Oh god, you whispered in your mind, trying to steady the storm of emotions coursing through you.

You didn’t know anymore—was it his broken, chaotic soul you loved, or was it just him, the entirety of him, darkness and all?

“Oh, my darling Y/N,” Sol purred, his voice a velvety mix of affection and possession, “I feel so flattered that you trust me so, so much.”

You giggled silently to yourself. Trust? Oh, Sol… if only you knew the truth. You’d watched him for months, hadn’t you? Studied him from afar, noted every habit, every nuance. You’d been drawn to him long before this moment, long before he thought he had won you.

“Despite meeting me yesterday,” he continued, his tone softening but not losing its edge, “isn’t this proof enough? Proof that you’re meant to be mine, as I was always meant to be yours?”

Your breath hitched. God, the way he spoke, the way his words dug under your skin and coiled around your heart like a vice. You were his… but oh, Sol, how little he knew. You were already more his than he could ever realize.

Your thoughts betrayed you. I want to drown in you, Sol. Kiss you until we’re both breathless. Draw your face over and over, photograph every moment of your obsession, and immortalize it in my mind forever.

He shifted closer, his wicked grin evident even without looking. You felt his breath against your neck, hot and electric, his arms tightening possessively around you. His head rested against your chest, and your traitorous heart thudded faster. You could feel him smiling against your skin.

“Your soul resonates with mine,” he whispered, his voice a low hum that made your blood race. “I can hear it, feel it, see it in the way you linger even in your dreams.”

God, you were burning alive. You could barely keep your thoughts contained. Sol, you’re driving me mad. How can I keep pretending? I want to turn over, look at you, and devour the chaos in your eyes.

Sol snuggled even closer, practically merging with you as his body molded against yours. “I love you so much, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing faintly against your ear. “I want you to realize it, deep in your soul. I want your heart to sing mine’s name. I know it’ll take time… but I’m growing impatient, sweetheart.”

You nearly whimpered, biting down the sound before it could escape. Your pulse betrayed you again, hammering wildly in your chest. He heard it. Oh, you knew he heard it.

His voice dipped lower, as if to himself, but you caught every word. “When will you realize?”

You almost broke then and there, your thoughts screaming. I do, Sol. I do realize. I know exactly what we are, what we’re becoming. You’re chaos and obsession, and I’m the fool who craves it all.

But instead, you stayed silent, pretending to sleep, letting him believe you were entirely under his spell. All the while, you simmered with a deranged kind of love that mirrored his own. You wanted him. God, you wanted him. And soon, you’d let him know just how much.

Your body lay still, but inside, you were burning with a dangerous desire. You had to keep pretending, keep playing this game of sweet dreams and soft whispers, while your mind spun in wicked thoughts of Sol and everything you wanted to do to him.

“Sol… Sol…” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, your voice soft and dreamy, like a confession in the night.

He froze, his heart leaping in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. His breath hitched as his mind scrambled, unsure if you were truly asleep or if this was some kind of delicious tease. His arms tightened around you instinctively, and you felt the sudden heat of his body pressing into yours.

You let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, as if lost in a dream. “Sol…” you whispered again, dragging it out just enough to make him crave more.

His face was burning now, the heat of his blush almost suffocating. He couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his lips, the kind of smile that was both pure adoration and a little bit dangerous. He believed it — every word you said, every whisper. In his mind, this was confirmation, this was what he had been waiting for, that you truly desired him, just as much as he desired you.

So cute, he thought, watching your lips curl into a peaceful, dreamy expression. It was enough to drive him wild with longing. The way you whispered his name — you were playing, teasing him, and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever heard.

“God…” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He felt a tremble run through his body as his grip on you tightened again.

You could hear him, feel his heartbeat picking up as he fought to keep his composure. But you could tell. His weakness was your touch, your words, your presence. The way you acted like a dreamer in his arms, how you whispered his name as though you were lost in the warmth of him.

It was all too much for him to bear. His face burned with a blush that he couldn’t hide, his breath growing shallow as he fought against the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer.

Sol’s breath trembled as he watched your peaceful expression, your lips softly parted, whispering his name again, and again. His chest tightened with something deep, primal, like a yearning that refused to be ignored.

“Dreaming about me…” he murmured, his voice thick with longing, almost trembling with the raw emotion he couldn’t hide. His lips quivered as if they couldn’t contain the truth he felt deep inside. “Ah… Darling, do you love me too?”

His words were low, quiet—he thought you were still asleep, your body gently relaxed in his arms. He didn’t want to disturb you, didn’t want to force an answer. But deep down, he needed to hear it. He needed confirmation that you felt the same way he did.

His heart pounded as he looked at you, as though you were everything he could ever dream of. He felt weak under the weight of his own desire and affection. He whispered again, voice barely a breath, “I need you to know… I love you so much, Y/N.”

The tears that welled in his eyes were a sign of how deeply he cared, how completely he was consumed by you. It was more than obsession. It was devotion, twisted with a dark desire. He didn’t realize that he was slowly losing control, his emotions getting the better of him.

He pulled you a little closer, burying his face in your hair, his breath hitching. “You’re mine, Y/N. No one else.” His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his possessiveness, but also with a tenderness he only allowed himself to feel in this moment with you.

he held you tighter, his lips kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment, his tears mixing with his whispered confession. “I just want you to know… You’re everything to me, darling.” He paused, his voice shaking as he waited for a response he didn’t expect, but desperately craved.

Sol’s breath hitched as he rifled through your closet, his hands trembling with excitement as he pulled out pieces of clothing he planned to steal some clothing… A piece of you he could keep close, something only he could touch. He grinned to himself, the thought of having you so wrapped around him, even in your absence, sending waves of pleasure through his chest.

He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, his voice thick with affection, as he turned to continue his search.

You lay there, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, feeling the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but you knew what he wanted—what he always wanted. You felt your thoughts swirl in that dangerous, delicious obsession, but you couldn’t stop it. Not now.

Sol’s arms clung to one of your oversized sweaters as he nuzzled his face into the fabric, inhaling your scent like it was his lifeline. His smile was lazy, lovesick, almost deranged in its intensity. After kissing your cheek and whispering, “I’ll be right back, darling,” he slipped into your closet, leaving you lying there in feigned sleep.

You barely moved, too torn between exhaustion and the thrill of what you knew he was doing. Sol rummaging through your things was almost too perfect a scenario, one you’d dreamed of before, but tonight it was real.

Inside the closet, Sol’s hands moved with almost reverent care as he touched your clothes, holding each piece as though it were sacred. A gleam of mischief lit up his heterochromatic eyes when he decided to “borrow” one of your hoodies. for him to hug.

Then, something caught his eye. A box tucked into the corner of the closet, partially hidden beneath a blanket. Curiosity burned brighter than caution as he crouched down and pulled it into the dim light. His hands were trembling as he opened the lid.

And then… his world shifted.

Photos of him—and Hyugo. Some candid, others blurry as though taken from a distance. Sketches, endless sketches of his face in varying poses, from loving to enraged to serene. Notes and details scribbled in the margins, every single one obsessively accurate.

Bandages. A pencil he hadn’t even realized you’d taken—one he’d lost just days ago. A button from his sweater.

And then there was the journal.

Sol’s fingers brushed over its cover, his breath uneven as he opened it. His name, written over and over again in feverish handwriting. Doodles of hearts, sketches of his profile, and words—declarations, fantasies, phrases that mirrored the chaos in his own mind. It was uncanny. It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

He felt his lips curl into an unhinged look as he flipped through the pages, faster and faster, his eyes devouring every stroke of the pen.

But then, a sound—sharp, sudden, and chilling—broke through his thoughts.

A creak. Like the groan of floorboards or the protest of something heavy shifting. Sol froze, his grip tightening on the journal. Slowly, he turned his head toward the closet door.

“…Y/N?”

The moment Sol turned his head, you were already moving. Before he could react, you were on him, pinning him to the floor with a force that sent the box scattering. Pictures, sketches, and your deepest secrets spilled across the floor like a dam breaking. Sol’s back hit the floor, his wide eyes staring up at you, his lips parted in a silent gasp.

You hovered over him, your hands trembling as they gripped his shoulders—not his neck, not his hands. Not the places that screamed at you to touch. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“I can’t hold you by your neck… because you hate it, don’t you?!” you hissed, your voice breaking, a venomous whisper mixed with something almost tender. “And your hands—I can’t touch those either! Because these hands saved me! They’re too… precious! I know all of this because I saw you too!” Your words were frantic, your breath uneven as your emotions clawed their way out of you, raw and desperate.

His eyes were locked on yours, his mouth slightly agape, but he didn’t move, didn’t resist. His blush deepened, spreading across his pale cheeks, but he stayed silent. Watching. Listening.

You felt your resolve crack further, a sob hitching in your throat as you leaned closer, your voice trembling. “Y-you weren’t supposed to see that! None of that!” You gestured wildly at the journal, the photos, the sketches. “Why couldn’t you just—just stay there? Just lay with me? Why are you so goddamn greedy, Sol?” Your words were sharp, accusing, but your expression betrayed your own obsession, your own twisted love.

“You’ve already stolen so much from me. My heart, my thoughts—hell, a dozen of my clothes! And now, this?!” You gestured to the box again, your voice rising before it cracked into a broken whisper. “You greedy, disgusting bastard… And me? I’m no better. I’m just as bad. Look at us…”

Your words faltered as your gaze met his, and you froze. His face mirrored yours—exactly. The wide, crazed eyes, dilated pupils, blush streaking his cheeks like war paint. His lips quivered, caught between a nervous smile and the urge to speak, but no words came. He just stared at you, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of it—the horrifying, beautiful realization. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry.

He was just like you.

A sick laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the silence. “Look at us… Look at how disgusting we are, Sol! You—stealing my clothes like some lovesick thief. And me? God, I’m worse. So much worse. Hiding this box, drawing you like some obsessed freak… We're—” You choked on your words, tears threatening to spill, but the manic grin on your face remained. "We’re both so fucking far gone. It’s sick. We’re sick.”

And yet… there was something so horribly, perfectly satisfying about it.

Sol lay beneath you, his eyes wide and unblinking, his breath caught in his throat as your words tumbled out in a chaotic symphony of revelation. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came. His silence was deafening, his body frozen, his face betraying that strange, terrifying cocktail of shock and… acceptance.

“You… you’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?” you whispered, your voice sickly sweet as you leaned closer, lips brushing just past his ear. “You watched me, didn’t you? Followed me home… went through my things. You even drugged me—or almost did. Almost.” Your laugh was low and breathy, sending shivers down his spine. You could feel it, the way his body tensed and trembled beneath your touch.

And then, with a sudden, wicked grin, you asked, “May I?” Your lips hovered near his neck, the words dripping with teasing affection. He didn’t answer, only inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly. That was enough.

You pressed your lips to his neck, slow and deliberate, and he shuddered under you. His arms moved almost instinctively, wrapping around you as if to anchor himself. His breaths came heavier now, his hands gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“Sol, Sol, Sol…” you murmured against his skin, giggling softly as you pulled back to look at him. His face was a mess of emotions—blush spreading across his cheeks, lips trembling, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with something primal. “Look at you… My beloved, my sweet, sweet Sol.. Is it shocking to see me this crazey?!”

You tilted your head, studying him like an artist admiring their own masterpiece. “I can’t even decide if I should kiss you again or just… hug you forever.” Your laugh broke out again, louder, unhinged. “Ahahaha! Oh, God, I can’t even choose! You make me want everything, Sol! Everything you are!”

Your grin widened further, almost painful, your voice sharp and cutting even as your tone stayed sweet. “That smile of yours… That’s the one, isn’t it? The one that blinds me to everyone else. Like a bright, burning sun that drowns out the whole world. God, you’re so good at pretending to be sweet, but I see you, Sol. I see what’s behind it!”

You pressed your forehead against his, your grin softening, but your words still carried that playful, mocking edge. “You’re a little liar, you know? Just like me. And you know what?” Your voice dropped, almost reverent, as you whispered, “I love it. I love you.”

You paused, giggling again, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe it yourself. “But let’s not pretend I’m better. Oh, no.” You gestured wildly at the scattered contents of your box. “I’m just as bad as you. Worse, even. Look at all this! I’m a walking red flag, and you—” You leaned back slightly, giving him a once-over, your smile turning teasing. “You’re waving me around like you’re proud.”

Your laughter echoed again, filling the space around you, almost hysterical. “What a pair we make! The obsessed and the obsessive… No, wait—who’s who again?” You tilted your head, smirking. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re both disgusting, both broken… and God, isn’t it just perfect?”

Sol’s wide-eyed stare softened just slightly, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. A fragile, deranged thing that mirrored your own.

And as you leaned closer again, your voice dropped to a whisper, still playful, still sharp. “I’ll trash-talk myself all day, darling, but don’t think for a second you’re off the hook. You’re mine, Sol. And I’m yours. So, go ahead…”

You cupped his face again, your grin never faltering. “Say something. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m not exactly what you wanted.”

Your fingers curled into Sol’s shirt with trembling force, clutching it so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, tears pooling in your eyes as you stared down at him. The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, each syllable laced with frustration, desperation, and something raw and terrifying.

“Why? Why aren’t you saying anything?!” Your voice cracked as you shook him slightly, your grip relentless. “Why aren’t you telling me anything?! I know you feel it—I see it! You’re just like me! You’re the same as me!” Tears streamed down your cheeks, but your voice only grew louder, more frantic. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Sol! You—”

You froze mid-sentence, your eyes locking with his. His expression hadn’t changed. Those eyes of his… they were the same as yours. Wide, shimmering, and brimming with something overwhelming—something obsessive. They mirrored your own crazed love-stricken gaze so perfectly it stole the breath from your lungs.

He was silent, utterly still, and yet… there it was. That unshakable devotion, that desperate yearning. It was written all over his face, in the way his lips parted just slightly, the way his breath hitched, the way he clung to you as if letting go would shatter him completely.

Sol’s voice came out almost as a whisper, unsure but laced with a tinge of fear. “How—long have you known…?”

You tilted your head, an innocent smile playing on your lips, though your eyes were anything but innocent.

“What…?” you asked, feigning confusion.

Sol’s gaze dropped, his fingers twitching at his sides. “That I was…watching…you.”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that bubbled up from deep inside you, the sound light but eerie. “Oh, honey… the correct word is ‘stalking.’ But you know, since a few months now… I knew exactly what you were up to. Every little thing. The way you’d slip in and out when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. The food you tried to drug… oh, how cute it was. But, don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time I noticed.”

His expression faltered, surprise crossing his face, but you could sense a mix of pride and discomfort swirling within him.

“How—and you don’t hate me?” His voice trembled slightly, cracking for the first time.

You leaned in closer, almost toying with him, your voice gentle as you whispered, “No. Not at all.”

Sol’s eyes widened in disbelief, his lips parting as if to say something but then stopping himself. His brows furrowed. “What? I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you hate me?” He asked again, but this time, there was more clarity, more strength in his tone than before.

You smirked, tilting your head to the side, as if you were finally offering him the answer he so desperately wanted. “I don’t have a ‘choice,’ Sol.”

A flicker of confusion danced across his face as his grip tightened slightly around you, as though searching for more answers in your gaze. “What?”

You paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. A soft, almost eerie smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “It’s just that I didn’t have any other choice but to love you.”

His expression faltered, and for the briefest of moments, you saw something almost human—something fragile—cross his face. A flush crept up his cheeks, though his eyes remained sharp, guarded.

“You basically own me now, Sol,” you said quietly, your voice unshaken. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride in the way the words fell from your lips. You weren’t afraid. You were comfortable in this.

And then, softly, hesitantly, he finally spoke. His voice was fragile, almost trembling, as if the question itself might break him. “Do you… love me?”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. His words hung in the air, heavy and vulnerable, cutting through your spiraling emotions like a knife. For a moment, you were stunned into silence, your grip loosening slightly on his shirt.

That’s what he was worried about? After everything—after the stalking, the stealing, the obsession—that’s what he cared about? Your mind raced, trying to process the absurdity of it all.

But as you stared at him, at the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes, something shifted. All the anger, all the chaos inside you seemed to pause, replaced by a single, undeniable truth.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you answered, your own vulnerability slipping through. “Sol…” Your hands trembled against his chest. “Of course I love you.” Your voice cracked on the last word, tears slipping down your cheeks. “How could I not? You’ve consumed me. You’re all I ever think about. All I ever want. All I ever need.”

His lips quivered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he searched your face for any hint of deceit. But there was none. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

“I love you,” you repeated, louder this time, your voice breaking as you clung to him. “And I hate it, Sol. I hate how much I love you. I hate what it’s turned me into. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

His arms wrapped around you suddenly, pulling you against him with a force that stole your breath. His body trembled as he buried his face in your shoulder, his voice muffled and shaky. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “So long…”

You didn’t need to say anything more. Just the way you looked at him spoke volumes. There was a darkness to your smile, a chilling calmness that matched his own twisted nature. You leaned in slightly, your voice low and almost pleading, but still with an air of authority, “Don’t ever leave me, Sol.”

His breath hitched. He froze for a moment, his hand instinctively reaching for his head, his fingers gripping it tightly, as though he could escape the weight of the words you just laid upon him.

“That won’t happen,” he murmured, voice thick with a promise that both scared and thrilled you.

Before you could respond, before you could even process what was happening, Sol closed the distance between you, his hand coming to the back of your head. He pulled you in closer, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

There was no gentleness in it, only a raw, desperate need—a desire to consume, to possess, to claim. His kiss was demanding, as though he couldn’t wait any longer to have you all to himself. It was everything you wanted, everything you needed.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but neither of you seemed ready to face it. The silence was comfortable, the weight of your shared night still lingering in the air. Sol’s steady breathing against you was soothing, and it made it hard to even think about moving. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go.

You lay there, with your head resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. Everything felt so surreal. After everything—the madness, the obsession, the twisted love—you were here. Together. And for a brief, beautiful moment, you couldn’t find a single reason to pull away.

Sol shifted slightly, his voice a soft whisper in the stillness of the room. "Is this… is this the first time I’ve slept well in a while?”

You paused, taking in his words, unsure how to respond. He had told you things, bits and pieces of his own brokenness, but this was different. This was the side of Sol that you never really expected to see—the one that wasn’t in control, the one who needed something, someone.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “After everything… with you, it feels… different.”

The quiet lingered between you, but neither of you rushed to fill it with words. The kiss, the emotions that came with it, and the truth that had been laid bare—none of it was easy to digest. But somehow, it felt right. Neither of you had to say much. The bond was there, thickening around you like an unspoken promise.

For once, Sol wasn’t the one in control. For once, he just wanted to stay there with you.

You lightly brushed a strand of hair from his face, gazing down at him, trying to make sense of the situation. It was strange, how the person who had been stalking you, watching your every move, could now look so… innocent. After everything you’d gone through together, after the craziness of the past few days, here he was, holding you like you were the one thing that could keep him grounded.

Your fingers brushed his cheek gently, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, Sol,” you whispered, “the soul you are…”

Sol didn’t respond immediately, his arms tightening slightly around you, pulling you in closer. He wasn’t saying anything, but his presence spoke volumes. His usual intensity had faded, replaced by a softness, like he was content. Almost like he was at peace for the first time in a long time.

It was funny. You’d expected so much resistance, so much chaos between the two of you. But instead, Sol had become… almost like a puppy. Gentle, needy, and completely devoted now that you’d given him what he wanted—a relationship. The storm inside him had quieted, and now he just wanted you. All of you.

He nuzzled his face against your neck, letting out a small, contented sigh.

The morning light streamed through the window, but neither of you seemed eager to face the reality outside. You could feel Sol’s arms tightening around you, his grip almost possessive, like he didn’t want to let you go—not now, not ever. His presence was soothing yet consuming, and despite everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. He simply held you, content and silent.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of your thoughts press down on you. “Sol,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, “We have school today.”

But even as you said it, you didn’t move. Sol didn’t either. His gaze shifted to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that you had come to recognize all too well. Then, that damned smile of his—bright and blinding like the sun—spread across his face. He closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head into your neck, as if the world outside didn’t matter.

You smiled in return, that same small, knowing smile, as you closed your eyes. Skipping a day doesn’t matter, you thought, feeling your heartbeat steady as you lay there with him, cocooned in the quiet warmth of the moment.

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know if it was the obsession, or just the way Sol had slowly wormed his way into your heart. Part of you wondered if you were truly in love with him, with his darkness, or if you had fallen for something else—his childlike, innocent need for you, perhaps. But one thing was certain. You were in love with something dark.

Something inside you whispered that it didn’t matter what it was, as long as you had him. You felt yourself sinking deeper into him, losing track of what was real and what was just a product of your twisted desires.

The day could wait. Everything could wait. You were here, with him, ad that’s!

……………………

………………………………………..

……………………………………………………………………

Your thoughts twisted in a way you hadn’t fully expected. Sol’s warm body pressed against yours was all you could focus on, as his steady breathing filled the space between you. His presence was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far you’d fallen into this spiral.

Is this what love feels like?

You couldn’t stop the question from swirling in your mind, but you weren’t sure if it was love anymore. Not the kind they talked about in fairy tales, not the kind people dreamt of. This felt different—darker, somehow. The way he clung to you, the way he needed you, it was suffocating yet strangely comforting.

It’s like I’m his obsession, his world, and I can’t escape it. But I don’t want to.

His grip on you, though tender, felt possessive—like he was marking his territory. Your heart fluttered, but not from nervousness. There was something wrong with the way you craved his touch, the way you wanted him to tighten his hold on you.

You tried to brush the thought away, but it lingered like a haunting whisper in the back of your mind. What if this is all I’ve ever wanted? To be owned, to be the center of his world?

You looked down at him, the boy who had slowly seeped into your life, becoming the very air you breathed. His face, soft and serene in sleep, looked almost innocent. But you knew better. He wasn’t innocent. Not with that smile. Not with that darkness lurking in his eyes whenever he was awake.

Do I want to be the one to tame him? The thought came unbidden, a dangerous curiosity taking root. But you weren’t scared. No, you were… enthralled.

He stirred slightly, his breath tickling your neck as his lips brushed against your skin. You felt that familiar thrill course through you, the dark and twisted desire that you couldn’t stop. You wanted to taste his madness, wanted to pull him deeper into the abyss with you. You both were tangled in this web of obsession, and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

God, what is wrong with me?

The question was fleeting, a mere afterthought to the way your heart sped up when he pulled you closer. You didn’t care anymore.

You’re mine, Sol. I’m yours. Forever. The thought was clear, possessive, and there was no escape from it. You smiled to yourself, knowing deep down that you were just as tangled in this as he was.

And that was exactly how you wanted it.

Thank you for everyone who read this series, TBH the ending is rushed. I wasn’t able to write it much any longer I wanted to end it. I’m sorry if the ‘ending’ is bad. I was just pointing out two things Reader only started to love the side of his true self than himself. It has to be messed up. I hope i didn’t ruin anyone’s day with it. I wanna thank to everyone who supported me it was really fun to write…I guess it’s time to wrap up! Please send comments I like reading them and replying I’m so sorry Comments make me happy.

A important note too, Please tell me a review of this fic if you can! It has to be truth! I don’t mind some tips I WANT THEM. It’s also okay if you didn’t like it. That’s exactly why I did what I did. If you cringed even one time, Just know that it was a trap by me.

[bl-bracket]

It doesn't really matter since the lesser known characters usually don't really have a chance in the actual bracket anyway but doesn't your prelim method disadvantage lesser known characters? If I understood your explanation correctly character A might get 20% yes 10% no 70% see results, character B 40% yes 20% no 40% see results. Both would have double the amount of yes compared to no but character B would end up with 20 and A only with 10 right?

Not intended as criticism btw just curious whether you considered this or if I'm misunderstanding your methodology.

No no you're totally right! It's one of those things I have mixed feelings on!

So the method of seeding I've been using does favor shows that are more popular. When I've got two shows with the same number of submissions and both have propaganda, the show with the higher amount of logged viewers on mydramalist will get the higher seed number. Now I've found that the mdl numbers aren't really the best or most accurate indicator of popularity on tumblr, but it's the easiest accessible set of numbers that covers all shows (so far I haven't had any submissions of shows from countries not on mdl, like Vietnam, but we'll jump that bridge when we get to it). Ideally, there would be a comprehensive set of numbers on tumblr that could give an indication of a show's popularity, but I have yet to think of something that doesn't produce a different set of flaws and inaccuracies.

Now: the question is why favor shows with more popularity?

This goes to the traditional seeding practice you'll find all over the place. Where in the first round, the highest ranked team competes against the lowest ranked team and so and so forth. Now this is something I didn't understand for a long time, but I finally did a year or two ago.

Imagine a sport. And you've got two big dog teams, like they're the top of the top. You don't want them to fight in the first round, thus eliminating one of the big champion teams. While this isn't really fair to the other teams, it makes sense. And after all they're going to have to fight the big dogs eventually, might as well do it in round 1 instead of the finals. It's not a perfect system by any means, but especially for the sake of entertainment, ideally the top picks don't fight till the end.

If I don't seed it, it's going to be randomized, which is what I used to do. I would randomize it and then guess who the top competitors would be and try to separate them. But this was even more faulty.

But then this all circles back to the inherent problem of any fan voted competition, it really comes back around to being a popularity contest. I've tried different methods to make it less so (adding propaganda on polls, adding the [see results] option, making it double elimination, etc), but it's built into the system. Most people vote for the characters they like regardless. It's the sad and annoying truth.

I'm sure there are ways I could go about it that would fix some of these issues even more, especially with the seeding and prelims. But so far, most of what I have thought of is even more time consuming than the process already is (for reference, setting up and posting round 1 of a 64 character bracket takes several hours of continuous effort) or makes the polls harder to access (I've thought about having the propaganda above and visible on the polls instead of under the read more, but that will result in a lot of long posts clogging up people's dash with maybe little effect).

And let me be clear, I also have been a victim of my own system. I cannot tell you how many of my favs have lost, either in prelims or the bracket itself, due to being more obscure. It sucks.

I'm always open to change to make things better! But it's also hard to then balance how feasible some of those alternatives are to actually implement and what difference they'll really make.

[praisethelorde]

Has anyone else noticed this about Locke?

In The Stolen Heir, it's revealed that Oak is a Love Talker aka Gancanagh (a faerie who is able to quicken desire in both faeries and mortals and also seduce them just by word of mouth) because his mother, Liriope, was also one. This means that--because Oak and Locke share the same mother--Locke was most definitely also a Love Talker. This could explain why Taryn so easily betrayed Jude, her own twin sister, for Locke. It could also be the reason Nicasia suddenly cheated on Cardan with him. It was so easy for Locke to manipulate and seduce almost everyone around him because of this power of his. It could also explain why Cardan remained friends with him even after what he did.

[gu6chan]

the brief mention that 1.3 leonard could still be feeling some deep lingering grief over his brothers' deaths still never fails to fascinate me tbh like, does he think of the standards he must have lost since their passing and feel guilt? or does he see them in every child he abuses??? does he keep his grief to himself or does he find it a useful anecdote to what must be a countless number of families dealing with loss??? does the green dragon know? does he confide in it????? since leonard seems to be aware of what arioch lost to the union, just how aware is/was she in what HE lost???????? did they have a role in each other's loss? is THAT where their beef came from??????? im going to merge into a wall

[iridescentoracle]

@eglerieth replied to your post: Hello! I am here to ask about your Dior headcanons…

What’s your Galadriel headcanon?

Oh man, I didn’t see this!! Thank you for asking, i fully did not expect anyone to actually get far enough into the Dior post to see that let alone actually want to know. Sorry I’m two days late!

So! What we know about Galadriel in the Silmarillion:

She hated Fëanor but thought being a queen sounded pretty sweet/desired power

She’s named as one of the leaders of the Noldor across the Helcaraxë

Instead of founding her own kingdom (like she’d explicitly originally wanted) or moving in with her brother she got married and stayed in Doriath and learned a lot from Melian

Eventually Melian was like “hey so you should explain the weird ominous evil metaphysical cloud i can see hanging over the Noldor so i can explain about it to my husband bc he should really learn about whatever happened before it blows up in everybody’s faces” and Galadriel was like “yeah he probably should but i’m not telling”

At some point Galadriel asked Finrod why he wasn’t married yet

One time Melian casually foreshadowed Beren’s existence to Galadriel, who has no recorded response

That’s it. That’s literally all we know about what she was up to. She was super jazzed about the prospect of Ruling A Kingdom and then made friends with a queen and learned a bunch from her and… was still alive after the War of Wrath, and in between we have nothing.

We don’t know how she survived the Second Kinslaying, we can assume she made it to the Havens of Sirion but don’t know how she survived the Third Kinslaying let alone what she did/where she went after that… we don’t know what her reaction was to the death of her only remaining family member in Middle-earth, for which her cousins and the great-uncle in whose kingdom she lived were both partially responsible…

Like, that's weird, right? Galadriel is firmly established as someone bold and interested in being a ruler and stubborn as all get out, and then she… does nothing and everybody seems to forget she exists for several hundred years and some major political upheavals that should have personally affected her? It's not just me? That's really weird?

So, my Galadriel headcanon is that she’s inexplicably absent for most of the Quenta Silmarillion because she was deliberately erased/left out by the scribes writing things down because there was no way to acknowledge her presence in Doriath during and after Beren & Lúthien’s whole everything without getting into the messiest bit of Sindar-Noldor political tension that didn’t involve the Fëanorioni, because (again, headcanon) Galadriel Did Not Respond Well to her uncle getting her brother killed as a side effect of trying to get her cousin’s boyfriend killed and there was A Lot Of Tension for a while there (when you’ve got that kind of interpersonal tension between people who are both essentially Political Figures, i figure it’s probably going to turn into political tension unless they’re both trying very very hard to avoid that and potentially even then)

…and then after Thingol’s death a few years later, I think one of the primary contenders for Next Ruler of Doriath was Galadriel “Well I Came Here For A Kingdom In The First Place” Granddaughter-of-Olwë and also her husband is related to Thingol* and Lúthien’s clearly removed herself from contention so if the Sindar want a monarch who’s actually related to the last one they both qualify, it’s perfect and obviously Galadriel should be the next queen of Doriath (it is not obvious to everyone)

* on a side note, Celeborn is mentioned twice in the Quenta Silm: #1, Galadriel stays in Doriath because she’s marrying a “kinsman of Thingol,” while #2, shortly after Thingol’s death, Celeborn is referred to as a “prince of Doriath.” Not actual evidence, but it sure fits in nicely!

Like I said in the Dior post, I don’t think anything ever came to outright surface-level conflict; a civil war in Doriath is not getting left out of the Silmarillion. Tension between Galadriel and Thingol, though? and then between Galadriel and [various other contenders for the throne after Thingol, potentially including Dior himself when he arrived] that had everyone a little nervous? when she didn’t become queen and did (however begrudgingly) accept that Dior was the closest thing to a consensus pick and did survive the next several thousand years only to finally wind up as functional queen of most of the remaining Sindar despite eschewing the actual title? That I can see getting diplomatically left out of the histories, and explaining why she’s completely during the parts of the story where you’d think she’d be most involved.

[yusuke-of-valla]

Idk how to explain my thoughts about Hop vs Keiran's arcs coherently but it boils down to I feel worse about beating Hop, therefore Keiran's better written

[playingonedchess]

like i tend to hate every fandom cause its always annoying some way or other but theres actually so much i literally bloody despise about the ace attorney fandom and all that random fanon they made up without even realising it has absolutely nothing to do with the games. it isnt even good fanon if that could even exist most of it is total utter rubbish

[shidoukanae]

also now realizing there's a heavy possibility that the unknown event Daniel references where he asks Lyla "how are you going to find your happiness?" is the same event Helene references when she tells Lyla that Lyla "betrayed" her.

Coincidentally, that's probably the same event that allowed Helene to be manipulated by the Empress into turning against Lyla and might have been the cause of Daniel leaving Lyla (probably to find out how to awaken as a dragon so he could gain the power to take her away from her family faster? maybe even going so far as to try and compete w/ Paris for the throne if it means protecting Lyla?)

There's also a suspicious gap of time from when Helene was poisoned to when she told Lyla to get away from her that has been omitted. And considering baby Lyla cries about Helene not wanting to be with her anymore...and that same baby Lyla is seen hugging Daniel in the unexplored scene...Lyla what the fuck did you do to Helene to embitter her like this?

[malachitezmeyka]

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t 12 when I came up with Suiren and Midori cause why the fuck do both of them have Japanese names

[phantom-dc]

Bruce sighed.

He never thought he would die like this. When he started out as Batman he was certain he would meet his end fighting the criminal underworld of Gotham. When he got older and life got stranger, he believed he would die fighting off a threat like Joker or Deathstroke, maybe even Darkseid. Being used as a human sacrifice to the King of the Infinite Realms was not on that list, let alone being a willing sacrifice.

Unfortunately, it had been necessary. An asteroid was on collision course with Earth. The asteroid had a colony of sapient alien life on it, so destroying it was not an option. As the League grew desperate, Constantine revealed a similar incident had happened a few years ago. The King of the Infinite Realms had, along with his subjects, turned the Earth intangible and both the Earth and the Asteroid had survived. Constantine isn’t sure why or how, but there are signs an extremely powerful ghost had merged realities and in the process erased the memories of this event from the entire population of Earth! The only reason Constantine knows about it is because a Demon with time-based powers told him during one of their poker games. Summoning this King was risky, as they had no idea what the King would want in return, but this entity seemed like their best bet. Now Bruce thinks they had been wrong.

Superman pulled Bruce out of his thoughts:

“Bruce, are you sure you want to go through with this? If we work together, we might be able to-”

Bruce cut him off:

“No, Clark. You heard Constantine. If we do not hold up our end of the deal, the Ghost King could simply make his ally, this “Clockwork”, reverse time to before the planet was saved. The Earth and the asteroid will still be destroyed, killing everyone on both. This is the only way.”

Clark looked dejected. He knew his friend was right. The King had turned the entire Earth intangible with one hand! He knew the League couldn’t defeat this foe, not without help. Any being that could help them would demand even more bloodshed in exchange, though. One human life in exchange of saving the entire planet had been a steal, according to the Justice League Dark. Clark looked at Bruce:

“Are you going to put on your cowl? This will be the only chance you have to tell the other Leaguers who you are.”

Bruce looked at his cowl. He had taken of his suit, so that his family had something to bury. But to reveal his identity to anyone other than Clark....

“I will keep it on. Even if I die here, I cannot risk anyone finding out my identity and using it to get to my family. I hope the League understands.”

Bruce is pulled into a hug. As Clark holds him as close as he can without breaking bones Bruce cannot help being filled with regret. He wanted more time with his family and, dare he say, friends. This was not how things were supposed to go. Clark pulls away and seems to want to say something:

“Bruce, I just want you to know, I-”

“WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON, B?”

Suddenly Nightwing enters the room, along with the entire Bat-family. Even Alfred and Oracle, donning masks, are there. They looked confused and scared, which made sense. They had all been summoned to the Watchtower, and when they had seen non-field members there as well they knew something was very wrong. Robin stepped forward, demanding an explanation:

“Father, what is happening? Why did you ask for us here? Explain yourself this instant!”

Red Robin looked ready to fight, staff in hand and in a low stance:

Where is the danger? Who is the enemy? Do you have intel for us? ARE YOU BEING MIND CONTROLLED?

Spoiler yanked at Red Robin’s cowl, pulling him out of his paranoid spiral:

“Easy, Captain Paranoid! Let him speak!”

Red Hood was clearly agitated. It was never a good sign if he was asked to the Watchtower:

“The fuck is going on, old man? Are you dying or something? That’s my stick, not yours!”

Bruce steeled his nerves. This was not going to be an easy conversation. How does one tell their family they are going to die and there is nothing to be done about it? Things had been going well for them, too. Dick and he hadn’t fought as often anymore, Jason had not called him names when he patrolled Crime ally last week, Tim hadn’t done anything that could be considered villainous (that he knew of) and Damian had not stabbed any goons for a month. Truly things had been good. Bruce knew this would mess it all up. He feared Jason would start killing again, or Damian would take out his grief on the criminals or Tim would… Well he had no idea. Last time Bruce disappeared Tim blew up so many LoA bases (he still wasn’t sure whether there had been people inside or not), so it was anyone’s gue-

“Sir, could you please elaborate on why we are here? I’m assuming it has something to do with the reason for this dreadful cold, and perhaps your lack of a shirt?”

Bruce sighed. Alfred always knew how to get through to him. With a heavy heart he told them everything. He would sacrifice himself for the survival of both planets. There was nothing to be done about that, and he asked them to please accept his decision. Naturally everyone was outraged. Amidst the chaos, Orphan asked a question:

“Why you?”

Bruce explained that, according to Constantine, the King had asked for a single sacrifice in return: “To feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed.” It had pointed specifically at Batman, making sure they all knew which one it wanted. There had been no time to negotiate the prize, so he had accepted. After that it had left immediately for Earth, turning it intangible so the asteroid flew through harmlessly and fulfilling its end of the deal. Orphan seemed to think for a bit, before speaking up again:

“We’ll miss you.”

She hugged Batman. The others, realizing there was nothing they could do, at least not before facing the King, joined in as well. Bruce told them how proud he was of everyone. That they were strong and brilliant, and to please protect each other and Gotham in his stead. He thanked Alfred and Oracle for their help over the years and to please continue to support the others with the same strength they used to help him. After a moment they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Wonder Woman had entered the room. With a saddened expression, and a dented doorhandle that showed her tension, she had come to collect her friend.:

“Batman. It’s time.”

Bruce nodded at her. Thanking her, he tried to leave with her, but was stopped by Alfred. After a quick hug, Alfed offered Bruce a cookie from the plate he had brought along:

“Every man deserves a final meal. I’m sorry this was all I have to offer.”

Taking a grateful bite, Bruce allowed himself to indulge in the taste of home.

“Thank you, Alfred. This means more to me then you realize.”

Steeling himself once more, Batman and the others followed Wonder Woman to the main room. It was the largest room in the Watchtower, several stories high with observation platforms, security screens showing cities all over the planet and a teleportation platform. As they approached the room, Batman was surprised by the cold that radiated form the entrance. Opening the door the source of all the cold and grief became visible to the group. Signal had to shield his eyes:

“What the hell!?!”

There it was, the High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms. A giant being, which had been so large they had to move to the observation platform to speak with it. Even then it towered over the heroes. It’s skin impossibly dark, with constellations spotting its tail & torso. The stars converging on its lower arms, making it look like it was wearing glowing white gloves, the same as a strange symbol on his chest that seemed important. The stars on its neck blending seamlessly with its hair, yet leaving its head completely dark aside from a few little spots on its face. The only facial feature they could make out where 2 Lazarus green eyes, focused on the new arrivals. On its hand, a ring with a skull on it that had freaked out the Lanterns. On its head a dark crown covered in patches of frost, and its own Aurora Borealis spreading from it. The room had already been partially covered in frost simply from the King’s aura. Power emanated from it, which had caused several members that had been dead and revived before to kneel on reflex, which was frightening even if they managed to get up on their own again.

Martian Manhunter had tried to peek in the Kings mind, hoping to find a way to convince the King to spare Batman, but he had been unsuccessful. As soon as he tried his knees buckled, and he had been pushed out. Ever since the Ghost King had radiated frustration. Now, as Batman entered wearing only his cowl and some spare pants, that frustration seemed to spike dangerously. Was the King upset he had been left to wait for his offer?

"What the fuck is this? I didn’t ask for a striptease, especially from some old Frootloop!”

“Constantine, what’s wrong? What is it saying?”

Batman was worried. He had not expected more anger from the being when presented with the offering. Looking at Constantine, he saw the magician frantically looking through the pages of his books, desperately looking for a translation.

“Hang on, mate. I’m doing my best here! Ehrm… no, that’s not right… Something about mating? Maybe he likes you, Bats. He also said something about “the absence of clothing” so…

Suddenly he is cut off by a strange sound coming from the Ghost King. It makes a strange motion with its body and its giant maw opens, as more of those sounds escape. It reminds Robin of Alfred the Cat when he has a hairball. However, there is more sound in the Watchtower now. The Red Hood is clutching his stomach as he is doubling down in laughter.

“HAHAHAHA!!! WHAT? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU TRANSLATE THAT BADLY? HOLY SHIT!”

The Ghost King stops making the noises, and it’s eyes snap to Red Hood. It moves it’s head closer to him, casually passing it through the barrier Constantine had put up. Constantine’s swears in surprise, but the King seems not to care as it “speaks” to Red Hood:

"Oh, thank the Acients! Someone who understands Ghost Speak! Can you PLEASE help me and translate for us? This trench coat guy is terrible, and somehow twists everything I say in the worst way!"

Red Hood relaxed, looking up at the Ghost King’s giant head.:

“Sure man, no problem. I’m pretty sure he is using like 3 different dictionaries to get this far. I saw him first translate Ghost to Pixie, Pixie to Gnome and Gnome to Demon before telling us in English! So, what’s up?”

Batman was stunned. The Ghost King actually face palmed. What the heck was going on?

"Of course he is. That explains why it sounds like he is putting this through Google Translate 4 times! These guys summoned me to save the Earth, which, totally cool. Happy to help! But a summons makes it official, which means I need to get an offering. I can’t leave without it or I face a mountain of paperwork from some stupid bureaucratic eyeballs for not following proper procedure. But I can always ask something simple and get it over with. No biggie, right? WRONG.”

Red Hood actually grabs a chair to sit on. Not even in a somewhat respectful way, he is sitting on it backwards, casually leaning on it.

“Oh, boy. How badly did they fuck up? Gotta be big since Batman over there is ready to be eaten?”

The King glares at Constantine, who puts up his bravest “time to out-bollock a Eldritch Demon” face. The King is not impressed:

"Man, I asked, and I quote: “I’d like to eat a regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like that guy would eat!” I wanted it to be clear I didn’t want blood, or corpses or virgins or any of the other horrible things stupid cults try to give me! I just wanted a burger or something! But then Mr. triple dictionary over there somehow turns that into: ‘’I wish to feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed, and it must be that one.” I’ll admit I was pointing at one of the non-supers, but that didn’t mean I wanted to eat him! I just wanted to make sure it was normal food, something that doesn’t fight back!”

Red Hood looked confused, asking if the King’s food usually fights back. The King rolls it’s eyes:

"In life, I lived with mad scientist parents who treated lab safety as a suggestion at best and a chore for teens at worst. Put enough samples in the fridge and you get a whole new type of Thanksgiving trauma. Dang, I’m getting even more hungry. I’d love some turkey right now. Could you get them to bring me some food? That way I can have my sacrifice and leave…”

Red Hood stands up. He asks if the King can wait a few more minutes, claiming that after all that frustration he deserved something better. Getting a nod from the Ghost King, the Red Hood suddenly shouted over the platform railing towards the waiting Leaguers:

“FLASH! Get your squad up here, and bring pen & paper! I got a job for y’all!”

Zooming up every member of the Flash family gets a list of things to get and a warning not to tell the Bats what’s on it, or Red Hood will shoot them in the knees. Looking at the lists, they quickly caught on what was going on and promised they wouldn’t tell. This was way too funny! Red Hood does a fake bow to the King, clearly amusing himself.

“Don’t worry, your Hungry-ness! Your sacrifice is being prepared! Anything else we can assist you with?”

The Ghost King seems to tilt its head in amusement. Whatever Hood was doing, it was working, which honestly was the only reason nobody had tackled him to the floor.

"Actually, if you could get that Frootloop to put on a shirt that would be great. He is shivering and honestly, I’m worried he’s going to poke someone’s eye out with a nipple. Why is he shirtless anyway? Please tell me he wasn’t actually trying to seduce me or something, he’s old enough to be my dad! Gross!”

This caused Red Hood to again double over in laughter. Everyone was confused, what could possibly be so funny in this situation? Constantine had frantically tried translating during their conversation, but it had gone too fast for him. He gave up when the King mentioned eyeballs and seduction, accepting he wouldn’t get anywhere like this. Batman however couldn’t resist his need to know everything anymore.

“Hood, report! How are you communicating with the entity?”

Red Hood turns to Batman, walks past him and towards Alfred, grabbing one of the cookies he had brought with him. As he walks back and hands it to the Ghost King, he starts to explain:

“Honestly, not sure. It feels instinctive, like a second mother-tongue. Pretty sure it’s some sort of “dead-guy-language” you learn when you die. Speaking off: Turns out Constantine is a VERY unreliable translator. Spooky here is actually pretty chill! He used you as an example to make sure we knew what he wanted, not to demand you as a sacrifice. He is in fact pretty ticked that you guys tried to feed B to him. Speaking of: Batman? Put a shirt on, for fucks sake. You look like you’re going to freeze your tits off.”

This earned a round of giggles from Green Lantern & Green Arrow. Now that the tension had left the room, other Leaguers also smiled in relief. Besides, it’s always fun to see Batman being the butt of a joke. Sure enough, Batman let out a frustrated sound, that got the rest of the Bats to join in on the fun. They understood that their dad in fact felt rather silly right now, which meant that they had more to gossip about soon. Constantine now was wondering what Hood was up to:

“Mate, I did my best! Sorry for not being fluent in every language in existence. What the hell did you send the Flash to get? The bloke is a scientist and denies magic when it’s right in front of ‘im! What could they possibly get that I couldn’t-”

At that moment, the Flashes zoom out of the Zeta tubes and zoom across the observation deck. After a few moments of red and yellow blurs, the deck is covered with tables filled front to back with food! Picking up a receipt that fell to the floor, Batman realizes this is take-out from all over the world. Seeing a puddle of Lazarus water grow on the floor, he looks up. The Ghost King is actually drooling! Red Hood steps aside and gestures to the feast:

“Welp! There is your sacrifice! One. And I also quote: “regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like “that guy” would eat!” Well, more of a feast then a meal, but I’m sure a big guy like you can finish it, and you can always take home the rest I guess. Bon Appetit!”

Opening his giant maw, the Ghost King digs in. Well, as much as he can. He actually looks kind of silly eating everything with a tiny fork. Still, judging from the purring sound emanating through the Watchtower it’s to the Kings liking.

"DUDE, THIS IS SO GOOD? I need to know these restaurants! You want a bite for helping me out? You saved me SOOO much annoying paperwork, I was about to bail!”

Picking up a plate of karaage, Red Hood took of his helmet revealing a second mask underneath and dug in as well:

“Don’t mind if I do, this smells fantastic! Oh shit, you should try this stuff, it’s great!”

Red Hood being allowed to partake in the offering so casually caused Constantine to do a double take. He realizes he seriously misjudged this entity. Still, that didn’t explain the horrific stories about him. He would need to do some digging into that, maybe with Hood as a translator. For now he takes a swig of his drink. The world was saved, no one died or lost their Soul and he didn’t make any new enemies he thinks. Plus, Batman felt like an idiot, and that always made the Brit smile.

All in all a good day!

[livvivviss]

lazy people probably won't want to read it 🙄🙄 HAHSHDA

How to shift: EMBODY YOUR DR SELF!! ☀️

Fuck the five senses

Most of us always focus on the process of shifting, the symptoms, the 5 senses, overanalyze our process and being very critical of ourselves, we try to analyze why we don't shift, giving ourselves excuses and explanations Saying "I didn't do enough", "I should have tried harder" I wish you guys to STOP THAT.

Actually, none of the above matters. The reason you think the methods, meditation, etc matters it's because of your assumptions and beliefs because you didn't get there and you think "you're doing something wrong" and you ARE NOT, leave that mentality behind and stop seeing shifting as a task or obligation, as something with steps that must be followed to the letter.

Stop and get back to BASICS, When you are trying to get to your DR, stop thinking and focus on "I have to get there" just think that YOU ARE THERE, think ABOUT YOU, about your dr self, who are you in your dr? This is why it is very important that you like your dr's self, and not just an "improved 2.0 me, now with ultra-powered engines" because it just makes you feel uncomfortable, and you need to feel comfortable with being your dr self, You must like being yourself, you must know yourself, dive into your brain and connect with your dr self and with who you're there.

And when you connect with who you are there, forget about everything else, forget how many breaths you have to take, what number you are on, or if you visualize enough, just connect with you, with who you are. By connecting with your 5 senses and with the environment, you are not traveling, I mean this is okay but when you're trying to shift, the shift it's in the mindset, not in the around, it happens in your subconscious, it happens when you become that person, you are becoming your dr self not your environment, WHO ARE YOU? Connect with that person. Start with "Who am I?" "What am I doing here?" "What is my name?" Until it becomes a natural flow, connect with your thoughts until it becomes a natural flow. You did it, you've shifted, when you are fully connected to your dr self and you no longer need to think like your dr self thinks, you are there, and nothing else matters, fuck if "your environment tells you otherwise", It doesn't matter what you see, hear or feel anymore, you are in your dr and you are your dr's person. You know that you're there because of your mindset, enjoy that because that is shifting, that is change, YOU HAVE TO CHANGE, this is manifesting, and manifestation happens instantly when you change your mindset.

The process of shifting doesn't have to take a long time, it doesn't have to take years, the only reason it takes you so long is because you see it as homework. Get out of that mindset, connect with yourself, change your mindset, delate everything else, stop making everything so difficult. "I didn't shift last night because-" STOP, there's no reason you haven't shifted. We shift in every decision we make, when you go to bed YOU HAVE ALREADY SHIFTED, but you are not going to accept it and you MUST accept it.

Why you should embody your dr self (good for lazy shifters):

You should try to connect with your dr self instead of using the five senses or connecting with your dr it's because:

1. It's a bit backwards to try to connect with your surroundings instead of yourself. As I said before, you are not shifting to be your environment, you are shifting to be you, to be your dr self. (Although I'm not saying that using all 5 senses is a bad thing, but you shouldn't focus only on that)

2. Embodying your dr self bypasses all the extra shit about you just lying in your bed trying to shift. The moment you connect with your dr's self, you have already shifted, because if you were not in your dr you would not be able to access the thoughts of your dr self. And when you are focused on this, you are no longer focused on the symptoms and that is the best thing that can happen to you because YOU SHOULDN'T FOCUS ON THE SYMPTOMS because it's not a physical process, physical change comes after the change of mentality. Connecting with your dr self's thoughts is much better than memorizing affirmations and meditating, it's more natural, you enjoy it more and it's less tiring.

3. In the case that your physical environment does not end up changing, you end up connecting with your dr self (THAT IS SO IMPORTANT) you alredy had the mindset shift. And many people when they start doing all this, they start having dreams about themselves being their dr self, and having experiences in their dreams being their dr self, and that is SO GOOD (it's literally happening to me) Taking this post into account, I assure you that YOU WILL SEE CHANGES YES OR YES this is a connecting point.

• Please make this post viral, shifters need to know this 🙏🙏

This was a summary of @shaysplanett's 7 and 10 minute videos. We love her (she was really helpful to me)

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Baby Bang

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader is pregnant (just that, nothing deep)

Genre: established relationship, flufffff

Summary: You've been distant lately, and Chan can't understand why. Because this is very unusual for the two of you as you two are on each other all the time. And Chan panics as you guys are getting married in a few months, and this sudden change is unraveling him.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chan paced the living room, a deep frown etched into his forehead. You hadn’t touched him in days. Weeks, actually. That alone was already a catastrophe, considering the fact that you two were basically like bunnies.

But now? Nothing. You were dodging his touches like he was contagious. He reached for your hand? Oh, look, you suddenly needed both hands to text someone. He tried for a kiss? Whoops, you conveniently yawned. Bedtime? You were already asleep. 

And that diamond ring glittering on your ring finger? It made him wonder if you were regretting saying yes to him already.

He’d spent way too many nights staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe was punishing him for something he didn't even know he did.

Chan sighed and opened the group chat. This was bad. He needed to vent.

Chan: She’s avoiding me.

A rapid barrage of notifications followed, and Chan barely had time to process one before another arrived. 

Minho: Y/N? The one who’s practically glued to your lap 24/7?

Hyunjin: LMAO. Not possible. I won't believe it.

Seungmin: You obviously did something.

Chan: NO, I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!

Chan: She’s been acting weird for WEEKS. 2 weeks to be exact. No kisses. No hugs. No… anything.

Jisung: No sex? BRO. Are you okay?

Felix: What if she’s planning something? Like a surprise? Maybe a wedding thing?

---

Chan paused. That was… not unreasonable. But no. You’d never kept secrets from him before. Like you've given him enough surprises before so he knew this was different.

---

Minho: OR. She’s finally come to her senses about you seducing her into saying yes? 

Chan: Minho. I will come to your house and end you.

Jeongin: But seriously, hyung. Did you say something? Do something? Forget an important date? You’re kind of a workaholic.

---

That hit a little too close to home. Chan frowned, scrolling back through his mental timeline of your relationship.

---

Chan: I didn’t forget anything. I swear. We were fine until a couple weeks ago, and now she’s avoiding me like the plague.

Changbin: Well. There’s only one logical explanation.

Changbin: She’s been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone.

Jisung: YES. I second this. The real Y/N would NEVER do this. 

Felix: Omg guys! 

Chan: GUYS.

Hyunjin: Okay. What if she’s mad because you’re not initiating? She’s waiting for you to grovel.

Seungmin: That makes no sense. If she’s mad, why not just say so?

Hyunjin: IDK, some people like drama.

Jeongin: That’s your toxic trait, Hyung.

Hyunjin: IS NOT!

---

Chan groaned, dropping his phone onto the couch. He missed you. Like, really missed you. Sure, he wanted to rip your clothes off 90% of the time, but he also missed the simple things - your cuddles, your soft laugh, the way you’d always need him by your side when you're stressed. 

The cold shoulders and polite smiles were killing him.

---

Minho: Just confront her, idiot. Corner her in the kitchen and ask her what’s wrong.

Chan: You think I haven’t tried that?! Every time I ask, she changes the subject.

Jisung: Okay, hear me out. Seduction.

Chan: What?

Jisung: Set the mood. Candles. Sexy music. Flex those ridiculous arms. She won’t stand a chance.

Felix: Worth a try. 

---

That night, Chan put the "seduction plan" into action. He dimmed the lights, skipped the candles, and put on a romantic playlist. He even went full drama, lounging on the couch with his shirt conveniently unbuttoned.

When you walked in, your eyebrows shot up as you asked, “What's up?”

Chan said nothing, just held held his hand out.  You froze, guilt flashing across your face, and Chan knew he had you. You placed your hand on his and let him pull you close.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and it’s driving me crazy. Did I do something wrong?” His voice cracked, and that set you off.

Your eyes filled with tears, and in an instant you were in his lap, clinging to him like your life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, Channie! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then why -”

“Shhh,” Chan fell silent as you pressed a finger to his lips. “Just know that I love you, Channie.”

Chan was suspicious. Because, well, you’d shut him up in the best way possible, last night - all he remembered was his shirt coming off and yeah.

You’d seduced him. Thoroughly. And while his brain had short-circuited at that time, he was now absolutely certain that you’d dodged his questions on purpose.

At least he can't complain about you not touching him anymore, right?

---

Chan: It didn't work.

Minho: WHAT didn't?

Chan: She kinda caught me off guard. And avoided my questions.

Jisung: I thought we agreed on YOU seducing her and you got seduced??

Felix: Soooo… you still don’t know what’s going on?

Chan: NO. She’s hiding something, I know it.

Hyunjin: Maybe you’re overthinking. Or, maybe she’s secretly a spy.

Changbin: She’s NOT a spy, Hyunjin. That’s ridiculous.

Hyunjin: And alien clones aren’t?

Minho: Why are we even helping you? You let her seduce you and then just… forgot your goal.

---

Chan groaned, flopping onto his back. It wasn’t his fault! He was weak when it came to you. All it took was a look, or a whisper of his name and his brain turned to mush.

Still, Minho had a point.

---

Chan: Okay, fine. What do I do now?

Felix: She’s probably just stressed? Weddings are a big deal. She might just need time to sort her thoughts.

That gave Chan pause. Weddings were stressful. Maybe that was it?

Hyunjin: My bet’s still on spy.

---

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick in your hand for the hundredth time now. You’d known for two weeks, but the reality hadn’t gotten any less terrifying.

You were pregnant. Pregnant. With Chan’s baby.

The thought sent your heart racing. You loved him more than anything, but… you’d never talked about kids. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he panics when you bring it up? 

There were only a few months until the wedding. You didn’t want to dump this on him now and risk throwing him into a spiral.

---

That night, Chan decided to take Minho’s advice (for once). No more distractions. He was getting answers tonight.

When you walked into the living room and his eyes locked onto yours - you froze. He looked so handsome, and a little…worn out? You felt so guilty for doing this. 

“Come sit,” he said, patting the couch beside him.

You hesitated, but complied, heart pounding.

“Baby, we need to talk,” Chan said, his voice soft but firm.

You swallowed hard as you murmured, “About what?”

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks. And you obviously don't trust me enough to talk it out. I’m worried. What's going on? Is it the wedding?” He was giving you that puppy eyed look, and your heart shattered.

“No, Channie, it's not like that...”

“Then what is it? Please, just tell me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to spill everything - but then you panicked. The words caught in your throat, and instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Here he was - caught off guard (again) but quickly melting into the kiss. You climbed into his lap, your hands tangling in his hair, and within seconds, all thoughts of questioning were gone.

---

Chan: SHE DID IT AGAIN.

Minho: You’re hopeless.

Seungmin: At this rate, she could rob a bank and get away with it.

Felix: Honestly, I’m impressed.

---

Chan sighed, glaring at the group chat before throwing his phone across the bed. Whatever you were hiding, it was big. And he was determined to find out, one way or another.

Little did he know, in the bathroom, you were rehearsing how to tell him the truth: that in just a few months, he wasn’t just going to be your husband.

He was going to be a dad.

Chan was officially losing it. His imagination had gone to some very dark places (thanks to Changbin’s clone theory and Hyunjin’s spy nonsense), but now he just felt defeated. What was so big and terrifying, that you felt like you couldn’t share it with him?

Chan: I give up. She’s unbreakable.

Jisung: Hey don't lose hope.

Minho: Pathetic.

Jeongin: Just sit her down and don’t let her leave until she talks.

Chan: I’VE TRIED THAT.

Chan was ready to lock himself and you in a room till you cracked, but unfortunately he was already cracking under the stress. And then a lightbulb went off in his head. There was just one person in the world who might be able to get through to you.

Felix.

---

Felix was, to put it lightly, concerned when Chan cornered him in his kitchen.

“Lix, you have to help me,” Chan said, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Help you how?” Felix asked cautiously.

“Can you please try to talk to her?” Chan literally begs. “She loves you, Lix. Maybe she’ll tell you if you ask?”

Felix hesitated, torn between loyalty to Chan, who was literally his brother and his friendship with you. But ultimately, his desire to help won anyway.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll talk to her.”

---

Later that afternoon, you opened the door to find Felix standing on your porch, holding a box of cookies and his sunniest smile. 

“Lixie?” you asked, surprised. “So good to see you!”

“Just wanted to check on you, love,” he said, coming forward to hug you.

You stepped aside to let him in, and the two of you settled on the couch.

“I baked these for you,” he said, watching your reaction closely as you opened the box and munched on a cookie immediately. “You’ve been looking a little stressed lately.”

You stopped mid-chew, guilt gnawing at you.

“I’m fine, Lix. Just… wedding stuff, you know?” you said, carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Is it really just the wedding?” Felix tilted his head, unconvinced.

You froze, your hands tightening around the box.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I won’t judge.” Felix said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand over yours.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and as you put the box aside gently. Felix scooted closer as he saw the tears fall, and before you knew it, the truth came spilling out.

“I’m pregnant, Felix,” you whispered. “And I don’t know how to tell Chan. We’ve never talked about kids, and I don’t even know if he wants them. And now the wedding’s so close, and I’m scared I’ll ruin everything. I already got my wedding dress and I don't think I'll fit into it anymore because by that time-”

Felix’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, he looked like he might burst into tears himself. But then he let out a strangled laugh.

“You’re… you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, sniffled and managed a soft, “Yeah.”

Felix threw his arms around you, nearly knocking you over. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! I’m so happy for you! And for Chan! You’re gonna have the cutest baby in the world!” he gushed, his eyes sparkling with happy tears. 

You couldn’t help but laugh through your own tears. 

“You don't think this is a disaster?” you asked softly, wiping your tears away. 

“Disaster?” Felix pulled back, shaking his head. “Of course not. This is amazing! But you have to tell Chan. He’s going insane trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I just… I’m scared.”

Felix gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Chan loves you more than anything. Trust me, he’s gonna be over the moon. And I'll always be here for you. Seriously, sweetheart, this is the best news ever.”

---

Hyunjin: Well? Did she tell you?

Jisung: SPILL, FELIX.

Chan: Felix? Please. I’m dying here.

Felix hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He couldn’t betray your trust, but he also couldn’t leave Chan hanging.

Felix: She’s okay. She’s just… working through something.

Minho: And you’re being suspiciously vague.

Seungmin: Should've known that sending her best friend to investigate wasn't your strongest idea… obviously he's gonna take her side! 

Felix: I promised I wouldn’t say anything. But it’s nothing bad, I swear.

Chan: Seriously?? Nothing bad? Then why is she avoiding me?

Felix: Just… be patient with her, okay? She’ll tell you when she’s ready. I promise it's all ok. Trust me. 

Chan frowned at the message, his heart twisting.

You had spent the whole night rehearsing what to say to Chan, your stomach churning with nerves. Morning came far too quickly, and as you watched him shuffle into the kitchen with his hair messy and his sleepy face, you nearly chickened out.

But Felix’s words echoed in your head. He’s gonna be over the moon.

“Channie,” you said softly, placing your mug of tea aside and taking a step towards him. 

He looked up from the coffee maker, his sleepy eyes brightening instantly. You were trying to talk to him, and somehow that was enough. Anything was better than you avoiding him. 

“Morning, baby.”

You smiled nervously, gesturing to the table. “Can we talk?”

His brow furrowed, worry flashing across his face as he nodded and sat down opposite you.

“Is everything okay?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you said, “You know how I’ve been… weird lately?”

Chan nodded, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Well,” you continued, “there’s a reason for that. And I’ve been scared to tell you because it’s big. Like, really big.”

“Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise, I’ll handle it.” Chan said, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his.

Your eyes filled with tears as you finally said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chan froze. Completely. His mouth hung open, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as his brain processed your words.

“You’re… pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears spilling over.

“Yeah. I found out a couple of weeks ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it, or if it was too much with the wedding coming up -”

Chan cut you off by pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His body shook as he let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and you realized he was crying.

“Channie, are you okay?” you asked nervously, your own voice shaking as you stroked his hair.

“Okay?” he choked out, pulling back to look at you with tear-streaked cheeks and the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “Baby, I’m better than okay. I’m… I’m gonna be a dad?”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the pure joy on his face.

Chan laughed, his tears flowing freely now.

“Holy crap. I don’t know what to say?! We’re having a baby. A baby!”

Before you could say anything else, Chan was  peppering your face with kisses, squeezing you in the tightest hug ever.

“I love you so much. Baby, you’re…I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this on your own.” he said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, clinging to him as he pulled you onto his lap. “And…I've never been more scared about anything my entire life? I mean, I adore you, and I know I want this with you, our baby already means the world to me…but not knowing if you would want that too? It's been killing me, we've never even joked about this before, Channie… “

“You could’ve told me sooner, baby,” he said softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I thought we were clear about this, with you, I'm ready for anything! But I get it. And I love you even more for worrying about me. But baby, we’re in this together. Always.”

---

Chan: GUYS. I HAVE NEWS. HUGE NEWS 🤩

Jisung: Finally!! 

Hyunjin: I told you she's a spy!! No one ever listens to me!! 

Minho: He’s too happy for that, you idiot.

Chan: WE’RE HAVING A BABY.

Jeongin: Excuse me, WHAT?

Changbin: STOP. Really?! 

Seungmin: Wow, plot twist

Felix: Oh thank godddddd😭😭😭😭

Felix: I was dying here

Chan: SHE TOLD ME THIS MORNING. I’M GONNA BE A DAD. WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS. OMG.

---

It felt like everytime he said it, it felt a little more real.

---

Jisung: Congratulations, bro. Wow. 

Hyunjin: I AM CRYING. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE REPRODUCING.

Chan: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chan: MY BABYGIRL AND I ARE HAVING A BABY😭💖

Minho: Jokes aside, this is such great news!! Congrats. Now go take care of your pregnant fiancée instead of spamming us.

Chan: I think I'm gonna faint

Changbin: Congrats, bro. But also… HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE SHE WAS GOING THROUGH SOMETHING?

Chan: I NOTICED! I just didn't think she was, you know

Jisung: Avoiding you because she was growing your spawn, apparently.

Hyunjin: “Spawn” makes it sound like a little gremlin. Oh my Gawd 🤣

Felix: STOP. My baby’s gonna be so adorable I’ll CRY 😭

Minho: Okay, Felix, you’re suspiciously calm about this. Did you already know?

Felix: 👀

Hyunjin: YOU KNEW.

Chris: WHAT?? FELIX, YOU KNEW BEFORE ME?!

Felix: SHE TOLD ME FIRST, OKAY? SHE WAS NERVOUS, AND I PROMISED I WOULDN’T SAY ANYTHING.

Jisung: Wow. Betrayal.

Chan: SO YOU JUST LET ME SUFFER FOR WEEKS??

Felix: Yes. And? I'd do it again for her.

Changbin: LMAO savage.

Jeongin: Shame on you for trusting him when everyone knows he works for her

Chan: Thanks for being on her side, Lix

Felix: Anytime 💖

Hyunjin: Omg, imagine Baby Bang. Tiny curls, tiny dimples 😍

Chan: STOP I’M ALREADY CRYING AGAIN 😭

Jeongin: I've never been this excited for a baby really. You'd let us babysit won't you? 

Changbin: Oh yeah. Group uncle duty.

Hyunjin: We're gonna be dancing before we can even walk Baby Bang 🤝

Felix: For sure!

Chan: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING EXCITED FOR US!

Jisung: Save your tears for the wedding, Daddy Bang.

Jeongin: When do we throw a baby shower? Felix?

Felix: Already planning it.

Hyunjin: This baby’s gonna be so loved.

Chan: THANK YOU, GUYS. I LOVE YOU ALL 😭

---

Chan added Y/N to the group chat.

Chan: SURPRISE, BABY! WELCOME TO THE CHAOS.

Jisung: AHHH THE QUEEN IS HERE!

Hyunjin: ALL HAIL THE BABY-MAKER 👑

Minho: Congrats on creating life and also tolerating Chan for this long.

Felix: YAYYYYYY YOU’RE HERE! 😭 We’ve been dying to have you here!!!

Jeongin: Thank you for gifting us Baby Bang. We promise to only slightly corrupt them.

Changbin: We’re all crying. I’m crying. Hyung is crying. Everyone’s crying.

Y/N:😂

Y/N: Oh my God, you guys.

Minho: This is us being tame.

Hyunjin: Soooo, what does it feel like, hm? Asking for research purposes, of course

Chan: Oh yeah, totally not gonna run off and impregnate someone 🙄

Hyunjin: What's it to you Christopher? You can do it, but I can't?! 

Chan: Oh please

Minho: I told her to get a collar for this damn puppy and look who's here yapping

Y/N: Leave him alone guys!

Hyunjin: I respect you, Y/N. I respect you. So I'm gonna shut up (Mr Know, let's do this face to face huh)

Minho: Gladly.

Felix: Honestly, Y/N, we’re just honored to be part of this. 

Y/N: Thanks guys, this means a lot to us. 

Changbin: And we’re going to spoil them rotten.

Jeongin: Rotten is an understatement.

Y/N: 🤭🤭🤭

Minho: You won't even know what hit you for the next 18 years. Or 30.

Chan: GUYS. Stop scaring her. Baby, they’re joking.

Felix: We’re not.

Hyunjin: Nope.

Jisung: Absolutely not.

Y/N: I'm all in for that hehe

Chan: I love you guys

Jisung: Chan’s in his feels again.

Felix: We have a wedding and baby shower to plan! 

Hyunjin: OMG. A pregnant bride. You’re gonna be so GLOWY.

Y/N: Thank you for being this excited for us. I love you guys 😭💖

Felix: We love you too!! 🥺💖

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8