#i said i was gonna be seeing this through to the end so.

[moon-ttokki-x]

relight me - skz x 9th member with ed!reader

pairing: ot8!skz x ed!reader

summary: when a once-strong light burns out, someone must relight it.

genre: idol! au, lots of comfort, angsty. mentions of ed, purging, skipping meals, throwing up, self-consciousness, hypervigilance, mentions of reader having a period (it doesn't happen dw) also . . . i'm well aware the title for reader in this one is a little bit primitive but that's the best way i could describe the fic mbmb

a/n: eat, eat, you EAT <3 div by @seulzitos

"Y/n, come and eat!"

You turn towards your opened bedroom door, looking with mild displeasure at Changbin. He can tell you're not pleased with the interruption.

Setting your pen down and rather fiercely slamming your laptop, you move to the door and attempt to push it shut, only to be blocked by Changbin's firm, solid frame.

"Move," you hiss at him. "Let me work."

He gazes at you coolly, his hair fluffy and messy, large black glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose.

"It's almost half past eight, Y/n. Eat any later than this and you'll feel sluggish in the morning. You've been shut up in your room for too long now. Please?"

You shake your head stubbornly. "Five more minutes."

Changbin actually laughs then. "You said that three hours ago. Take a break."

"No." Your feeble argument does nothing to persuade him. In reality, you'd just been biding your time in your room until everyone went to sleep so you wouldn't have to eat.

His gaze narrows. "I'm gonna tell Chan-hyung if you don't come and eat something. Please don't make me do that. You know how he gets."

You groan so loudly you think the entire dorm hears it. Storming back into your room, you messily reorganize a few papers before grudgingly following Changbin into the dorm kitchen. Your heart pounds harder with every step you take.

Stupid. You really thought no one would notice.

Entering the kitchen, you see most of the boys already seated. Jisung and Jeongin are busy fighting over a piece of fried chicken, Minho and Felix looking on in amusement. Seungmin is on his phone, minding his own business at the end of the table, and Han and Chan are discussing some 3RACHA schedule adjustments for the next week, eating in rather a civilised manner compared to the other members. Hyunjin comes out of the kitchen holding a couple of extra plates, and he sets them down just as Changbin pushes you gently towards the group.

You exhale and sit down next to Felix, who's busy digging his way through a container of noodles. There's been no time lately to cook since schedules have been so busy, and Chan finally gave in when the members pleaded to have takeout for the fifth time after dance practice.

Not you. You disappeared as soon as the practice session ended. You've been so isolated lately that it almost feels strange to be around the members, to watch their antics and listen to their bickering. And normally, being around them would fill you with energy and you would gladly join in, but something inside you tells you to hold back and be quiet. Keep your head down, eat as little as possible, repeat.

Again and again and again.

The thoughts hang heavy in your mind as you're handed a plate. Gulping, you spoon out the smallest possible portion that you can handle without the others noticing the size of it. It's barely half a plate.

"Y/nnie!" Hyunjin calls. "Aren't you gonna eat more? You've been working harder than old man Chan-hyung lately."

Chan lightly slaps the boy upside his head and detaches the piece of fried chicken from within Jeongin and Jisung's shared grip. He lightly chides them and their bickering stops momentarily, hunger taking over pettiness. For the time being, anyway.

Hyunjin has managed to draw everyone's attention to your plate and it's immediately filled with several more portions, the boys chiding you affectionately and heaping more food onto the ceramic. The sight of it makes you want to throw up, and you fight the sudden surge of anger rising in your chest. You want to throw the plate at Hyunjin's face.

But you don't, so you sit and seethe as the boys settle down to eat, munching through sides and conversing cheerily with each other. You feel none of the joy of sharing a good meal with friends; just a cold, dead numbness that makes you feel like a disconnected power plug compared to all the others. You watch them eat platefuls without blinking, without caring, and part of you wishes you could do the same, but it's too much to ask.

Besides, you think, looking down at your plate, it's for the better. Hunger will keep me sharp.

You bite your lip and take tiny, tiny mouthfuls of the food; barely even forkfuls while you try and make up an excuse to leave the table. You could pretend that something urgently needs working on; the new choreo, maybe? No... Minho will force you to sit and eat before you leave.

Or you could say you feel sick, but you don't have a temperature or any physical ailments, and you've been fine since this morning. Not really an option either.

You could also just sit and eat like a normal human being, but the last thing you want is a full stomach, or a stomach with anything in it. And you've already tried purging and it's too messy and loud, so that's out of the question too.

You think about putting on some theatrical display of feeling sick or overtired but you just don't have the energy. And if you get up and just leave, all of them will come and pester you. The last thing you want right now is to talk about it.

Felix nudges you lightly and you almost shoot him a glare, but you reign it in. It's Felix.

"You feeling, okay, Y/n?" He asks quietly, smiling. "You look a little pale."

You thank your stars, and Felix. He's just given you an opportunity to escape. You feign a slow, tired expression.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "I just- I feel a bit sick."

His expression changes to one of affectionate concern and he places a hand over your forehead. "You don't feel warm... maybe it's because you're working too much that you feel sick."

You groan inwardly just as Chan looks your way, checking up. He raises an eyebrow in mild concern and you wince a little, signalling that you want to leave. You feel confident for a minute that he'll let you leave, because he always says yes, understanding that the bickering and noise gets too much for you sometimes. But he just shakes his head and points to your plate, mouthing "Eat.".

He. Shakes. His. Head.

You almost gape and consider getting up anyway, but the prospect of him finding everything out is almost too much to bear. The thought of being exposed makes shame burn through your veins, though it hasn't even happened, and you begin to feel the familiar, heavy inferiority settle in your gut like a teary, reprimanded child.

There's one last, desperate resort.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you murmur to Felix. "I think I got my period."

He nods, and you hope that Chan doesn't call you out as you stand and begin to walk away, every nerve tense. Thankfully, he doesn't, and you make it to your bedroom without trouble, shutting the door heavily behind yourself.

You open the door to the bathroom and immediately step on the scale, just to check that nothing's added itself on. You exhale a sigh of relief at the sight of the numbers decreasing just slightly.

Phew.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the cold tiles, waiting. You can kill time for a while and then pretend to fall asleep on your bed. No way the boys will tell you off when they find out you just happened to fall asleep due to your consistent early schedules.

You sigh and reach into one of the drawers, pulling out a pad. Ripping the item off of the patterned plastic, you fold the sticky tabs back in and tuck in back in the drawer. You throw the plastic in the bin, making sure to run the tap for a few seconds so it looks like you've put a pad on and washed your hands. Felix uses your bathroom sometimes too because Hyunjin takes so long in their shared one, so you have to keep up the guise of the sudden arrival of a period.

Sighing, you open the bathroom door and are met with Chan. Your heart drops out of your chest and flies out the window entirely.

"C-chan," you stutter feebly, pressing a hand to your chest. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he says quietly. "Felix told me you thought you got your period. Are you feeling okay?"

You nod. He has no idea about what's going on, and the thought makes you feel a sort of twisted pride at the realisation.

"Do you need anything?" he asks. Ever the leader.

You shake your head, risking the next sentence. "I'm gonna lie down for a while, though..."

"Do you want me to bring you something to eat?"

You think before responding, the thoughts flashing through your head quick as lightning. If you say yes, he'll being food and expect the plate to be finished when he comes to collect it from your room. If you say no, he'll get suspicious.

"Yes, please," you say weakly, even though the mere thought of ingesting something makes you want to throw up.

Chan nods and you lie down on the bed, fighting the urge to just spill everything to him. But you can't, so you stay quiet and watch as Chan brings your plate from the table and sets it gently on the bedside.

You expect him to leave, but he doesn't. He sits down on the end of the bed, and your nerves begin to fray a little, feeling irritated that he won't just leave you alone.

If that wasn't enough, you suddenly notice that the faint noises from the members in the kitchen are gone, replaced with a dull, eerie silence. You feel a bit sick until you spot familiar faces lingering near the doorway of your room, their silhouettes visible against the frame of light spilling from the hallway.

"Y/n," Chan says quietly. A cold dread sits in your stomach, chilling you to the stomach. You know exactly what's coming.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out before he can continue.

Chan doesn't even look surprised, and he runs a hand through his hair just as Changbin moves into the room, sitting on the bed next to him. He places a hand on your thigh.

A sinking feeling takes hold of your gut.

They already knew.

Chan starts to talk. "Y/nnie, we know what's been going on. You're not in trouble, okay?"

You groan. "Well, now I feel like I am."

Changbin can't help but chuckle a little, though it's quieter than his usual laugh. "We didn't stop you to begin with because we didn't want you to feel like we were keeping tabs on you."

"And we thought it was something you could handle on your own," Chan adds quietly. "It was wrong of us to stand by and let you do this to yourself."

"We're sorry, Y/n," Hyunjin adds from the doorway. "We thought we were helping by forcing you to eat, but clearly not. And I'm sorry for drawing attention to how much you were eating earlier."

A hot tear spills over the brim and burns a line down the soft skin on your cheek. "Why are you all apologising? I shouldn't have done it, I just felt so low and I couldn't bring myself to eat, and-"

This time it's Jeongin who moves to sit next to you on the bed, and he coos at you lightly, quieting you. "It's okay, Y/n. Most of us know how that feels. But the thing is, you don't have to lie to us. We'll never say anything judgmental to you about it."

You nod tearfully and let Chan stroke your hair lightly, the warmth helping to soothe the storm inside your head.

"Would it help if you could eat alone?" He says quietly. "When most of us were trainees, we weren't used to eating so much in front of others, so most of us ate separately from each other until we felt more confident. Would that help?"

You nod.

"Besides, if you do that," Changbin adds jokingly, "One day, you'll be able to stuff your face like we do."

For the first time in you don't know how long, an involuntary laugh bubbles out of your chest, quite unexpectedly, and for the first time, it feels right.

a/n: no one is allowed to cry on this 9th member fic like last time

[ur-sick-and-married]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU • PAIGE BUECKERS

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?

🎵: Do I Wanna Know? covered by Hozier

TW: suggestive, angst, reader is an alcoholic, usage of Y/N, mentions of nausea and vomiting

SUMMARY: you get drunk to avoid running back to your ex…but tonight it brought you right to her.

A/N: I went to a UConn game the other day!

How many times were you going to find yourself in this situation? You were strolling around the crowded house, searching for anyone that would have you. You were drunk again, like you were most nights.

You did this a lot now; get wasted and hookup with strangers. The alcohol allowed you to loosen up, finally find some peace, and the hookups kept you feeling useful and pleasured.

The two of those things also kept you from groveling at the knees of UConn’s best female guard.

You and Paige had been in a serious relationship. You loved that woman. She was the best thing that ever happened to you.

But you’d fucked up. Your love for booze had scared her off. She got sick of attending parties every weekend, sick of having to take away the bottle, sick of dragging you from parties, sick of pushing you off at home when your drunk self tried to start something, sick of nursing your nasty hangovers. She had told you to chill, promised you movie nights and dates instead of parties.

You never listened, so eventually she sat you down and, with a lot of difficulty, ended things. It had become too much for her. She needed to focus on school and basketball. It was her last year in college, after all. She wanted to make it count.

Without Paige, your need for alcohol only grew, which is how you found yourself in the middle of a frat party. Things had been usual, until someone screamed and everyone started fleeing. You knew what this meant; cops. You started running, too. If the police got you, you were screwed. Chugging drink after drink was fun, until the idea of getting caught came up.

You stumbled through the woods behind the house. This was where people typically ran, but you were alone. Maybe you were going the wrong way? You could see lights up ahead, so you went towards those. If there was civilization, you could find your way home. Once you made it through the trees, you found yourself in a campus that you quickly recognized…UConn.

Well, you thought, at least you knew your way around.

You started wandering, your phone in hand, waiting until you had good enough WiFi to get an Uber.

When you first heard the sound, you thought you were imagining it. Surely it was just the sound you associated with the school.

Nope…when the small, outdoor court came into view, you realized there was someone dribbling a basketball.

That someone was Paige Bueckers.

What were the chances?! You needed to go, before she saw you. You turned around fast, and tripped over your own feet. Your body hit the grass with a small “oof” sound escaping your lips.

“Y/N?!” Paige called when she saw you.

She was at your side within a second, immediately trying to get you up.

“Hi, Paige…” You said awkwardly, trying not to slur.

“The hell are you doing here?” She asked as she pulled you to your feet easily.

“I was…in town.” You shrugged.

She was gonna say something else, when her nose wrinkled. “Jesus…you smell like beer.”

It clicked in her brain just then. You opened your mouth to lie again, but all that came out was a shaky, alcohol scented breath.

“Ar you drunk?” She asked quietly.

“Just…a little bit.” You mumbled.

“Bullshit!” She exclaimed abruptly. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?!”

“I didn’t mean to be!” You yelped.

“Sure.” She scoffed. “You accidentally took a few shots? Chugged some beer? Drank some soda that you didn’t know had vodka in it?!”

You huffed, not knowing what to say. She was always right when it came to this.

“I just need to get home…” You whispered shakily.

“Where were you?” She whispered back.

“Party.”

“Hm. It’s early for you to leave a party.”

“Cops.”

An awkward silence passed. She watched you fight intoxicated tears.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” She sighed.

“Could you…get me a ride?” You said. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Where are you going? Home?” She asked.

You nodded.

“What if you go out again, huh? The bar? The club?”

“I’m super tired, Paige.” You shook your head. “I’m not going out.”

“You think I’m gonna believe you?” She scoffed. “You’ve pulled that shit before.”

“Then what are you gonna do?” You said, frustrated.

She sighed again, dragging a hand down her face.

“You’ll stay with me.” She announced. “Just for tonight.”

You froze. Really? Your ex would be the one taking you home?

“Come on.” She said, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s go. It’s getting cold.”

She led you back to her apartment. You were a bit unsteady, starting to feel the negative effects of the alcohol.

“Don’t you have roommates?” You asked once you were inside her building.

“They don’t mind.” She waved that off. “Just be quiet and they won’t care.”

“We shouldn’t do this…” You said.

Usually when you got drunk, you were all over her, insisting she go home with you.

You knew better by now.

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige said softly. “I just…I can’t let you go home alone right now.”

The both of you went up to her dorm. She pulled out her keys and opened the door, inviting you in. When you struggled to slip your shoes off, feeling unsteady, she knelt down to get them off for you.

“You feeling sick?” She whispered.

“Uh…not really.” You replied, despite that fact that your head was spinning.

Paige saw right through the lie.

“Go in my room.” She told you. “I’ll be right there.”

You quietly went to her bedroom, remembering where it was, of course. You perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed, waiting.

Paige came in a few minutes later, after convincing her roommates they they wouldn’t be hearing any grotesque noises. She carried a small trash bag and a glass of water.

“Drink up.” She instructed, giving you the cup. She then placed the bag in your lap. “And if you have to puke, do it in there.”

“Thanks.” You muttered.

She knelt down in front of you, looking at you with those insanely blue eyes. “C’mon…drink.”

You took a few sips of the water. You knew she was being helpful, but the water kind of made you want to throw up.

“Just hold onto that bag.” Paige said when she noticed your facial expression.

She stood up, and walked over to her closet. After digging around for a moment, she came back with a t-shirt and comfy shorts. The shirt looked so familiar…you suddenly realized why.

You would always steal her clothes when you were a couple. She often found her hoodies in your bedroom, her sweatpants (which were actually ginormous on you because she was so tall), mixed with your laundry. You rarely hid it well. Sometimes you’d just show up at her place in her clothes.

Your favorite thing to steal was one of her March Madness shirts. It was very comfy, and a reminder of how amazing Paige and her team were. So when she gave you the shirt that drunken night? You quickly burst into tears.

“What? What’s wrong?” Paige asked worriedly.

“You…you remembered.” You sniffled.

She didn’t know what to say. She felt sort of caught. She muttered a quick “Of course I did” and took the water from you.

Her bedroom was dark, only slightly lit by the moon shining through the window, so she didn’t see much when she helped you out of your party clothes. Not like she’d never seen you naked. Once you were in the comfortable clothes, she pulled the blankets on her bed back, allowing you to slip in.

“I’m gonna stop, Paige.” You whispered, still crying as she tucked you in. “I’m gonna stop drinking.”

She sighed. She’d heard you say this before, but never so seriously.

“Good.” She said. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this point.”

“I know…” You whimpered. “I don’t want to die…”

You were quick to put your head in your hands so she wouldn’t see you cry even more. She bit her lip at this. She was angry at you, for continuing to abuse alcohol, but���she hated that she was. She just wanted to comfort you. She never liked seeing you cry.

“Let’s just try to sleep, alright?” She said softly, climbing over you to lie down.

She got in the bed, keeping a safe distance. Neither of you were very comfortable. You were too tense. You hadn’t been in bed together in ages. It would’ve been nice if you weren’t so awkward.

You really tried to pull yourself together. You wiped your eyes, took deep breaths, focused on good thoughts. But your drunken tears kept coming.

Suddenly, Paige was shifting, and she was getting closer. She laid on her side, facing you. Then you felt her hand carding through your hair, gently scratching your scalp.

“What’re you doing…?” You whispered.

“When I used to do this, you’d be out cold within minutes.” She whispered back.

She kept doing the soothing motion. Your eyes were getting heavy, like she’d hoped.

“I’m really gonna stop.” You muttered.

“I know…just sleep.” She murmured.

“I miss you.” You whispered. In your half asleep, intoxicated state, you didn’t think twice about saying that.

She swallowed hard, her hand faltering for only a second. “I told you to go to sleep.”

“I just wanted you to know.” You answered.

“I know.” She repeated, smiling a little at the small amount of sass in your voice. “You don’t have to miss me, though. I’m right here.”

Exhaustion was finally getting to you, so you were falling into a deep sleep.

“I’ll be right here.” She whispered a few seconds before you fully sank into unconsciousness. “We’ll figure this out…we always do."

[juniperskye]

Come bother me, baby.

Based on the following post: Inspo  you are the bane of young Aaron's existence - back when he was just an agent under Gideon and Rossi. A pain in his ass…so when you transfer to avoid your feelings for him, he begs you to come back. Okay listen, I know that Hotch didn’t really work under Rossi in the beginning, as Rossi had already left…but we’re all gonna pretend for the sake of this fic. Also – Haley just never existed in this, and that’s ok.

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 4164

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, female reader, she/her pronouns, age gap (Hotch is 28 and reader is 25), some explicit language, canon typical violence, mentions of case details, reader has experienced the loss of her parents, mention of holidays, mention of food/eating. Mention of reader being a mom, inaccurate timelines, let me know if I missed anything!!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

July 1993

The year was 1993, Jason Gideon and David Rossi were just granted permission to hire two agents to expand the team. They agreed that they would each pick an agent, that way there’d be no room to argue. They interviewed a total of 17 potential candidates, 13 of those were interviewed by Rossi and the other 4 by Gideon.

Aaron Hotchner had been the 7th file in Rossi’s stack, it was an impressive resume, one that was filled with cases he’d worked as a prosecutor, and then a number of cases he’d worked as a profiler in the Seattle Field office. He now was here in Quantico, Virginia, hoping to gain a spot on the BAU. To Rossi, Aaron had stood out amongst the others, he’d sat through all 13 interviews, and nobody could match the passion for this position like Aaron had. It had been an easy choice.

You had been the 2nd file in Gedeon’s stack, and honestly he’d been let down by his first candidate…so when you walked in, more than qualified for this position, he excused the other two candidates.  He didn’t feel the need to interview them, his gut told him you were the right choice. Your file had been padded with your numerous degrees varying from bachelor's degrees in psychology and criminology, to a master’s degree in forensic psychology, ending with a PhD in psychology. For the last year you’d been working in the Phoenix field office as a profiler. And while you didn’t have a ton of field experience, Gideon had been thoroughly impressed with your tenacity and overall enthusiasm for the profession.  

--

September 1993

Things had started off okay…mostly. Aaron definitely treated you like you were a child, though you were only three years younger than him. While you’d spent a lot of time expanding your knowledge of this field, Aaron had worked as a prosecutor immediately after his completion of law school. You weren’t sure why he thought he was so much better than you…you were a doctor after all.

It had started in the most dismissive way possible. You’d accidentally spilled your coffee at the round table, it had spread fast, covering his copy of the latest case file. You apologized immediately, offered him your copy while you went to print another. He shook his head at you, muttering something along the lines of you being young and unprofessional.

You had thought about going to Gideon to complain but ultimately decided against it. It would only make him see you as more of a child. So, you’d worked your ass off to prove yourself, you needed to show him that you were an asset to the BAU and not a liability.

--

May 1994

“I think this unsub is female.” You stated confidently.

“Are you insane?” Aaron scoffed.

“Before you completely dismiss me Hotch, hear me out.”

“Don’t call me that.” He hissed.

You had to physically wipe the smirk from your face before explaining your theory to the team. You’d pointed out how meticulous everything had been, how much care had gone into the murders and the disposals.

“If we really break everything down, it’s all done with so much care. The bodies haven’t just been dumped, they’ve been cleaned, redressed, and neatly placed in beautiful locations. The field of flowers, the hillside, by the art installation at the park.” You’d gestured to the photos pinned on the corkboard.

Looking around you could see the impressed look Gideon was wearing, it was bordering smug as he turned his gaze over to Rossi with a nod. Rossi couldn’t do anything other than shrug – you’d made a good point, who was he to question your expertise. But then there was Aaron…he was looking around in disbelief, nobody was even going to question it?

Aaron was pissed that you had been right. Three days after that briefing, you taken Helena Murphy into custody. She had lost her siblings in a car accident when she was in her teens, and a recent fender bender had been her trigger. She’d been taking the lives of young people who had resembled her siblings and laid them to rest somewhere beautiful…unlike the highway guardrail that had ultimately taken her family from her all those years ago.

Gideon and Rossi both gave you kudos for narrowing down the profile the way you had. The police officers at the Milwaukee PD had congratulated you and subsequently thanked you for your hard work. Aaron wouldn’t even look at you.

Needless to say, the flight home was tense.

--

August 1994

“Ugh it is soooo hot!” You whined, fanning yourself with a loose manila folder.

“Would you stop that?” Aaron asked.

“Stop what?” You feigned innocence.

“Bothering me! Your fanning is blowing all my papers around, just cut it out.” He huffed.

“Sure, thing Hotch.” You offered a sickly-sweet smile.

“Don’t call me that!” He shook his head and continued his report.

You stood from your desk and removed your blazer, showing off the fitted tank top you’d been wearing underneath. You made your way up to the kitchenette to retrieve some ice water and the ice pack from your lunchbox. At this point, you’d do anything to cool off.

You sat back down at your desk, sipping the water and crunching on the ice, while shifting the icepack from your chest to your neck. Aaron was so distracted by your constant moving that he had to speak up again. But as his gaze landed on you, he was rendered speechless…only for a moment, but it was enough time for him to notice the way the condensation from the icepack had dripped down your chest and when you slid it back to your neck, he could see the effect the could had on your breasts. His throat went dry.

“Stop messing around, it’s distracting.” He ordered.

“You’re no fun Hotch.”

“Would you just stop bothering me? You’re doing it on purpose now.” He sighed.

“Oh, fine.” You conceded.

--

November 1994

You made your way into the FBI building, hanging on one arm is your go bag, packed and ready to go. On the other arm is your purse, struggling to stay up on your shoulder as you held onto a basket filled with baked goods.

“Happy Holidays Jim!” You greeted, handing him a loaf of pumpkin bread.

“Thanks doll, you too! Did you get called in?” Jim, the head of security, asked.

“No, not yet anyway. I just figured I’d stop by.” You shrugged.

“You weren’t celebrating?” He questioned.

“Oh, um no, not this year.”

“Well doll, thanks for the pumpkin bread. Happy thanksgiving.” Jim smiled.

You made your way around, passing out different backed goods to people you saw every day, Maureen the receptionist, Mike from IT, and Sandra who was the director’s assistant. You’d even gone as far as bringing something for the BAU team members in the event that you did get called in.

Speaking of…

Gideon rushed into the bullpen of the sixth floor, in his haste he nearly missed the slight step down into the main section of the floor where your and Aaron’s desks sat. He was ferociously pressing the buttons on his pager – surely sending a page to the team informing them of the newest case.

Your suspicions were confirmed when yours beeped from your desk, drawing yours and Gideon’s attention.

“Jesus, I didn’t realize you were here. What are you doing here already?” Gideon asked.

“No reason to celebrate…I thought I could make myself useful here.” You shrugged and offered Gideon a container of gingersnaps.

“Thanks kid. Can you go get the files from Anderson?” Gideon requested.

“Of course, sir.”

Aaron arrived next; shock evident on his face when he saw you coming back from retrieving the files. He was about to make a snarky comment about you being here so early when Rossi came in behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

--

The four of you were on the plane heading to Oklahoma, you were seated next to Gideon, going over the file, passing theories back and forth. Aaron was sat next to Rossi, stewing in a feeling the bordered annoyance.

“I can feel the steam blowing out of your ears.” Rossi teased.

“Sorry I just don’t get it…she got there so fast. She just – she just bothers me.” Aaron huffed.

“She was already there kid, she was at the BAU before Gideon even got there, he told me.” Rossi explained.

“What do you mean she was already there? Why would she have been at the office already?”

“I assume to keep herself busy. She lost her parents when she was in college, so she doesn’t really have anyone to celebrate the holidays with. She brought everyone at the office treats.” Rossi smiled, popping another bite of his banana nut muffin into his mouth.

“I didn’t know. That’s uh-that’s…” Aaron didn’t quite know what to say.

“Check your bag Hotch.” Rossi smiled and went back to his file.

Placed neatly in the outer pocket of Aaron’s bag was a cellophane bag containing snickerdoodles, his favorite. A red ribbon tied the bag closed and attached to it was a small note…

Sorry for bothering you all the time. Hopefully these can make up for a little bit of it.

Aaron took a bit of one of the cookies., rolling his eyes because, of course, they were perfect. He couldn’t help but feel bothered by your inability to be bad at something.

--

February 1995

You hated valentine’s day, it had always been a sore spot, all your friends swooning over the overpriced chocolate and roses that their boyfriends would get them. Not you though, you hadn’t received a valentine since freshman year of high school when Mathew Smith taped a rose to your locker. Matt had been nice and all, but he was looking for something…unserious.

You got yourself dressed and dragged yourself to the BAU. Everyone was so chipper as you entered the building, greeting you…but you met the majority of them with a scowl. Stepping off the elevator and going over to your desk, surprise overcoming you as you’re met with peonies and a pack of razzles. You moved them around, trying to find the note, coming across a yellow sticky note.

I thought these could be repayment for the pens you got me for Christmas.    -Hotch

You smiled at the signature, he’d hated when you called him Hotch, you’d been the first to do so and he was annoyed at how unprofessional it had initially seemed, he’d tell you not to call him that and claim you bothered him on purpose, but as Rossi and Gideon joined in with the nickname, he slowly grew to like you…it!

Aaron sat at his desk, plopping into his chair with a sigh. Your gaze lifted to meet his, a timid smile gracing your features.

“Hotch”

“Don’t bother me today.”

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“Don’t mention it.”

--

May 1995

May and June had become your least favorite months of the year. After losing your parents, you thought Christmas would be hard, and it was…but you’d found friends in school who would celebrate with you.

It was Mother’s Day and Father’s Day that killed you. People didn’t invite their orphaned friend over to celebrate those holidays with their family because…well because that’s weird.

These two months brought with them the painful reminder that your parents were gone.

Truthfully, you’d been glad to get the page letting you know that a case came in, it would have been a welcomed distraction…if it hadn’t been in your hometown.

Aaron could see how tense you were. He was trying to profile you, figure out what had you so worked up. He knew this time of year had to be difficult for you, seeing as Rossi told him you lost your mom. But he could tell there was something deeper, rooted within you.

It took some time, but after sitting back and observing, he figured it out. A few different officers knew you by name and were on a first-name basis with you. You’d been extremely familiar with the layout of the city, not needing directions to the location you’d gone to earlier. This must be your hometown.

--

“Alright guys, nice job today. So, we are flying out first thing tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Rossi said.

You were slow to pack up, gathering your things, chatting with a few of the officers before heading out of the precinct. You didn’t really know what to do, you didn’t want to go back to the hotel, but you also didn’t want to go around town. You had too many memories here, it was too hard to go around and picture all the times you had with your parents around here.

“Hey, you want to go for a drive with me?” Aaron asked

You couldn’t even mask the shock as it etched its way across your features.

“Sure.”

At first you had no idea where Aaron was heading, the drive feeling unfamiliar…but then all at once you’d figured it out. He was driving to Blue Grove Cemetery.

“What the hell are you doing? Why are we here?” You questioned, anxiety lacing your words.

“Look, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to go through May and June, now that they’re gone. I thought it might be nice for you to see them before we head back tomorrow.” Aaron explained.

So many feelings were running through you. Initially anger, why would he blindside you like this. But then that morphed into panic, you didn’t want Hotch to see this side of you, the weak and vulnerable side. But lastly was this weird warmth…it was slow moving like molasses, sticking to every part of your body.

--

Aaron parked and let you control the pace. He waited to move until you reached for the handle on the door, slowly exiting the SUV. You stood there, still, unmoving, unsure if you could do this. Aaron grabbed a bag out of the back seat before walking around to meet you where you stood.

“I’m sorry, I – I don’t…”

“Hey,” Aaron placed his hand on your shoulder gently. “Take your time.”

You nodded at him gratefully.

Eventually you began to move, leading Aaron through the cemetery. You’d passed headstone after headstone until you came to a stop at their gravesite, resting just below a beautiful tree, offering just enough shade to allow you respite from the heat.  

Aaron laid out a small blanket, letting you sit first, hesitating for a beat.

“You can sit…please.” You asked, more than told.

Aaron sat next to you silently. He pulled the bag in front of the two of you, removing its contents, a sandwich cut in half, a bag of kettle chips (your favorite) and lastly two diet cokes. As you watched him, you smiled, you may bother him once in a while…okay all the time…but he cared. Whether he’d admit it or not.

The two of you sat there, eating, enjoying the cool breeze that the afternoon offered. After some time had passed, you found yourself telling Aaron about your parents. How your mom loved to bake, and she would tell you that food brought people together. You told him how your dad did everything himself, he never called in a specialist for everything.

Aaron chimed in with how you’d clearly taken after them and it made you an incredible profiler…and there it was again, that warm feeling.

You’d recognized it… it was the same feeling that bloomed within you on valentine’s day, and before that, on Christmas. You’d bought hotch these really fancy fountain pens he’d mentioned in passing and he got you a coat, a nice warm one, since you didn’t seem to own one.

This warm, sticky, sweet feeling was rearing its ugly head…and you were pretty sure it was called love.

--

July 1995

That warm feeling had burrowed its way deep into your core and you were freaking out. You’d been doing everything you could to act normal around Hotch, you were worried you’d been failing miserably.

“I think your agent has a crush on my agent…” Rossi said to Gideon, peaking out the window of his office.

“That’s interesting, because I am pretty sure your agent has feelings for my agent.” Gideon challenged.

“Do you think they’ll figure it out?”

“Not any time soon.”

--

You flicked a paper football over your screen onto Hotch’s desk. He glanced up at you, only his gaze didn’t hold its usual annoyance, instead there was something that mirrored amusement written there.

“Are you trying to bother me some more?” Aaron asked.

“Um, yes. That’s my job; to bother you…didn’t you get the memo?” You teased.

“I must have missed that one.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

You went back to your report, working diligently. All of two minutes passed before the paper football knocked against your hand as it landed on your desk. You laughed and shook your head gently, there was that stupid feeling again.

--

October 1995

Your knuckles rapped gently against Gideon’s office door. You were shaking, your stomach twisted at the thought of what you were about to do. It had taken you a little while to figure out the best option…knowing that it wouldn’t be professional to continue working with Hotch with these feelings you had for him.

You’d looked at all the openings here at Quantico, trying to figure out which position would best suit you. Ultimately, counterterrorism was looking for someone with a background in psychology, so it just made sense. Which brings you to now, you were about to go into Gideon’s office and request the transfer.

“Come in.”

“Hey Gideon, I uh…I need to talk to you about something.” You stumbled a bit.

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the chair opposite him.

You sat, taking a steadying breath. “I’m requesting a transfer. To counterterrorism.”

“No.”

“Gideon, you-”

“No.” He began. “I am not going to sign a transfer request for you, especially not to counterterrorism, you have exceptional skills, and we need them here.”

“Gideon, I have to transfer. I feel – I have…” You trailed off as your eyes found Aaron beyond the window in the bullpen. “I can’t work with him, not when I feel like this.”

Gideon took a deep breath, looking at you and taking in the longing gaze you wore. He didn’t fully understand what thoughts were running through your head, but if this is what you felt you needed to do, he wasn’t going to stop you. You were a very strong and capable agent…he trusted your judgement.

“How much longer do we have you here at the BAU?” He asked waving for you to hand him the paper.

“Two weeks.” You sighed. “I’m sorry Gideon.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re smart and you need to do what is best for you.”

--

November 1995

“Alright guys we have a case, round table in five.” Rossi called out into the bullpen.

You gathered your things, knowing you wouldn’t be travelling with them for this case. You figured you’d sit through the round table, offer a few theories and then let them go on their way.  Aaron watched you slowly grabbing a legal pad and your signature pink pen, he chuckled grabbing his own paper and one of the fountain pens from the set you bought him.

“Before we begin I just want to say that I am so proud of how you have grown and flourished with this team, and while it is a huge loss for the BAU, counterterrorism is lucky to have you.” Gideon stated, looking at you.

“What? You-you’re transferring?” Aaron asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“When…when are you leaving?” He asked.

“Today is my last day.” Your gaze shifted to your lap.

“We can talk about this later, let’s go over the facts of the case.” Gideon demanded.

Through the entire briefing Aaron’s eyes were burning into you. He couldn’t focus on the fact of this case because he was completely hung up on the fact that yours wouldn’t be the face across from him anymore…you weren’t going to be there to flick paper footballs at him, or to hum songs all day, to crunch annoyingly on baby carrots. Who was going to bother him if you were gone?

After you finished going over the case, you couldn’t help the sting behind your eyes, slowly realizing that this was it, your time at the BAU was done. But you held your head up high and steeled yourself. You offered Gideon a handshake, Rossi pulled you into a tight hug, and Aaron…well he brushed by you with a curt nod.

--

Aaron was miserable throughout the entirety of the two weeks they were away on this case. He was moping, and it wasn’t going unnoticed. Rossi and Gideon shared a knowing look, thankful that he was finally figuring it out.

They hadn’t quite expected it to take him so long to do something about it.

--

December 1995

The bullpen was so quiet without you. Aaron felt uneasy; he was the only one in the center of the floor now that you were gone. His file going long forgotten as he sat back and thought about things for a bit…

When he first saw you, you’d entered the elevator at the same time for your interviews, you’d offered a quiet thank to him for holding the elevator for you and he couldn’t deny then how cute you were. But then you’d both been hired on as profilers and he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to think that anymore, so he shoved the feeling down.

Then you spilled your coffee all over the table, effectively ruining his file, but you’d cursed, burning your hand as you quickly tried to clean it up. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you it would be okay, so he fled.

It was so many things after that, your intelligence and the passion you had for profiling. Your baking, always noting people’s favorites and bringing them sweets, just to see them smile. The way you listened, remembering something he’d brought up in passing and gone out of your way to order his favorite pens.

Oh shit. He was in love with you. He’d fallen in love with you and had been too stupid to realize it.

--

Aaron moved with a purpose, rushing through the FBI building, making his way up the two flights of stairs it took to get to counterterrorism. He burst through the door, drawing attention to himself, his eyes frantically scanning the room in search of you.

He moved forward, noticing you across the room. He reached you in a few long strides, stopping just before you.

“Hotch…what are you doing here?” You looked around, blushing profusely.

“Sweetheart, you need to come back to the BAU.”

“I can’t…Aaron I-”

“I know that I have given you no reason to believe this, but I love you sweetheart. I need you to come back to the BAU, come back and bother me, baby.”

“No.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Well yes.”

“Aaron, no.”

“Yes! Come bother me, baby. Bother me for the rest of my life.” Aaron begged. His hands reaching forward to cup your face.

“Okay” You gasped.

Aaron pulled you into a kiss, the agents surrounding you erupting in cheers for the both of you.

--

Bonus scene – May 2016

“Happy Mother’s Day sweetheart.”

“Happy Mother's Day mom!”

“Thank you guys!” You smiled, feeling nothing but joy looking to those who surrounded you.

Before you was your incredible husband and your three children, two sons and a daughter. They had gotten up early to make breakfast for you before they headed off to school. There had been a bouquet of peonies, cards, and a pack of razzles.

“Jack, are you okay to get Zoey to school today? We got called in pretty early.” You asked.

“Yeah mom! I have practice though, so Jason and Zoey might have to hang out a while.”

“Don’t worry about that bud, Will offered to pick them up when he picks up Michael.” Aaron patted Jack on the shoulder.

“Alright kids, we will see you later, be safe and please text me when you get to school!” You called, heading out the door with Aaron hot on your tail.

--

Aaron and you made your way into the BAU hand-in-hand. You glanced around at this team you built together, and you couldn’t be happier. Aaron made his way toward his office, noticing you’d stopped and before he could say anything, Dave clapped him on the back.

“Leave her be. She’s admiring this family you’ve built together.”

You looked over to where Aaron and Dave stood, offering a bright smile. You then made your way down to the floor, greeting Emily, JJ, Derek, Spencer and Penelope.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[goldfades]

hiiii idea popped in my head seeing joey on the phone but like imagine he’s away and trying to help y/n get kids to bed but it’s hard since he’s away 🥰😭 sorry i have to share the imaginings happening :-))))

no, baby i love when people share their cute little ideas!!! i hope you enjoy this one<3

The second Joe’s face popped up on FaceTime, Hayes let out a dramatic gasp—like he had just seen a celebrity in the wild.

"Dada!"

You winced as his little voice echoed through the house, far louder than necessary. "Hayes, baby, inside voice," you reminded him, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.

From down the hall, you heard the unmistakable wail of your youngest, jolted awake by his big brother’s sudden outburst. You closed your eyes for a brief second, sighing, already bracing for the next half hour of chaos.

Joe must have heard it, too, because his face twisted in sympathy. "That bad, huh?"

You turned your attention back to the phone, where Joe was sitting in his hotel room, half-smiling, half-wincing, freshly showered with wet curls sticking to his forehead.

"That bad," you confirmed, shifting Hayes further onto your hip. He had his tiny fingers fisted in your shirt, but his eyes were locked on the screen, grinning so big it made his dimples pop.

"Hi, buddy," Joe said, his voice warm and fond.

"Dada, when you coming home?" Hayes asked, tilting his head.

Joe’s face softened. "Couple more days, bud. But guess what? We have a game tomorrow. Are you gonna watch?"

Hayes nodded enthusiastically, kicking his legs in excitement. "I wear my jersey!"

"You better. Gotta match me, right?"

Hayes nodded again, his little hands now gripping the phone like he could somehow pull Joe through the screen.

It wasn’t the first time he had gone through this phase. As you liked to say, Hayes had his "favorites"—rotating obsessions that switched every few months. Sometimes it was dinosaurs, sometimes it was a specific pair of socks he refused to take off for days at a time, and sometimes, it was Joe.

This was one of those times.

For the past couple of weeks, everything had been about Joe. Hayes only wanted to watch football, only wanted to play "catch" in the backyard, only wanted to FaceTime his dad 24/7. If Joe was around, you were nothing—completely cast aside.

Which, really, you didn’t mind. Because the way Joe lit up every time Hayes showed even an ounce of excitement over football or his job in general—it was worth every second of being ignored.

What you did mind, however, was getting him to sleep without Joe here.

"Okay, buddy, we gotta say goodnight to Dada," you said, shifting Hayes in your arms.

"No!" Hayes protested immediately, curling his little fingers into fists. "Not yet!"

Joe chuckled. "C’mon, H, listen to Mama. You gotta go to bed."

Hayes pouted. "Don’t wanna."

"Yeah, well, I don’t wanna deal with a grumpy toddler tomorrow, so you kinda have to," you muttered under your breath, earning a soft laugh from Joe.

"How about this?" Joe offered. "I’ll stay on FaceTime while you get in bed, and I’ll tell you a story, okay?"

Hayes perked up immediately. "A story?"

"Yeah," Joe grinned. "But only if you’re in bed."

Hayes was already wiggling out of your grasp before Joe had even finished his sentence, making a beeline for his room. You sighed in relief, grabbing the monitor from the counter before following behind.

By the time you got to his room, he was already under the covers, clutching his stuffed tiger, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright, let’s hear it, Burrow," you said, settling into the rocking chair, phone still in hand.

Joe laughed, then launched into one of Hayes’ favorites—something about a football-playing dinosaur that you were pretty sure Joe had made up on the fly one night, but Hayes had loved it ever since.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Hayes’ blinks got heavier, and his tiny body started relaxing into the mattress.

By the time Joe reached the end of the story, his voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, and Hayes was out.

"Thank God," you sighed, carefully tucking the blanket around your son before stepping out into the hallway.

Joe was smirking when you looked back at the screen. "See? Easy."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, ‘easy’ because you get to do the fun part. Try dealing with the bath time tantrums before you get cocky."

Joe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I miss you, though. And I miss Hayes."

Your heart clenched. "He misses you, too."

"I’ll be home soon, I promise."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, voice softer now.

"You’re doing such a good job, you know that?"

You felt it—the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your shoulders relaxed at his words.

"Thank you," you murmured. "Now hurry up and win so you can get back home to your biggest fan."

Joe grinned. "I think that’s you."

You huffed out a laugh. "Not even close. That title officially belongs to your tiny clone."

Joe laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. But you’re a close second."

And somehow, that was enough.

--

Joe had barely stepped foot through the door before Hayes came barreling toward him, arms wide, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Joe barely had time to drop his bag before scooping him up. "There’s my boy!" he grinned, pressing a kiss to Hayes’ chubby cheek. "Missed you, bud."

"Missed you too," Hayes said, but before Joe could even savor the moment, Hayes was already wiggling out of his grasp.

Joe blinked in confusion as his son ran right past him and straight to Maisie, who was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"AUNT MAISIE!" Hayes shouted, climbing into her lap like she was his long-lost hero.

Maisie barely looked up, smirking. "What’s up, little dude?"

Joe stood there, stunned. Mouth slightly open, arms still mid-air from where he had just been cast aside like a used toy.

You were trying so hard not to laugh.

Maisie shot Joe a cocky look, ruffling Hayes’ curls. "Told you. I’m officially the favorite now."

Joe scoffed. "That’s not possible."

You snorted. "Oh, it’s possible. It happened while you were gone. Apparently, Maisie’s the ‘cool’ one now."

Joe crossed his arms. "I thought I was the cool one."

Maisie let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting her sunglasses (which she was still wearing inside, for some reason). "You had a good run, but the people have spoken."

Joe turned to Hayes, genuinely confused. "Buddy, what about football? What about watching game film with me? What about—?"

"I like Aunt Maisie’s music better," Hayes cut in, matter-of-factly.

Joe looked genuinely offended. "What’s wrong with my music?"

Maisie let out a loud laugh. "Oh my God. You’ve been replaced by Taylor Swift and the Encanto soundtrack."

Joe’s face dropped. "That’s not fair. Encanto has bangers."

"You don’t even know the words to ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno,’" you pointed out.

Joe gasped, pointing at you accusingly. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Oh, absolutely," you grinned.

Joe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. Gone for one week and I’m completely irrelevant."

Maisie patted his shoulder. "It happens to the best of us, man."

Joe sighed, finally giving in. "Fine. But just so you know, he’s gonna want to play football with me again in, like, two weeks."

Maisie smirked. "We’ll see."

And honestly? You weren’t so sure. Because the way Hayes was currently clinging to Maisie’s side, giggling at whatever TikTok she had just shown him?

Yeah. Joe was gonna have to work really hard to win back his title.

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (thirteen)

jenson button - "I want to make you mine."

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/45), flirty!reader, unprotected sex & baby trapping, doggy style, jenson is smitten (read: unhinged), dark-ish themes

sinful sentences catalogue

you were a flirt, that was what you were good at. flash a pretty smile, wear a low-cut top and any man would happily give over some cash. flutter your eyelashes and give them a sweet laugh at their corny jokes, and the bills grew in value.

jenson was smitten, needy for your attention. he loved how you felt in his hands, how his lips felt against yours. and when he was lucky, his cock snug inside of your achy, soaked cunt. maybe it was time getting to him and missing so-called glory days. but he liked the little flirt he often saw at the bar, and he liked taking you home.

but he believed that you could do a hell of a lot better than the bar you frequented. someone quiet, secluded, with an apron around your waist, dinner on the table and his child growing in your belly.

"hey, beautiful." he purred as he draped an arm around you, "look a little lonely tonight." his lips grazed your jaw, "sad that no one's giving you attention, tinkerbell?"

"shut up." you replied and when you looked at him. when your gaze met his, he pulled you in for a heated kiss. that shut you up quite quickly. you hated it, he had this way with you that made your core simmer.

"i want to make you mine." he said, "tonight."

"i could never be yours, jenson. don't be stupid." you laughed.

there was a reason why all the men got to look but not touch, but jenson often got handfuls of your flesh and his cock buried inside of you. when he pulled away from the kiss, he smiled at you, " are you done, tinkerbell? gonna be good for me?" he leaned in, "because my wallet is feeling a little heavy, and i think you could lighten the load."

and then like a lamb you tucked yourself closer to him. you knew you were a slut for his attention, he was older, wiser, wealthier. he knew what he could get from you and it made you aroused. it didn't hurt that his cock was rather big and he knew exactly how to use it.

"when have i ever been good for you?" you asked playfully.

jenson chuckled lowly, "that's what i like to hear. causing my problems, making me watch you be a total fucking flirt. but you always come back to me." he kissed your cheek.

"are you going to give me what i want?" you asked softly as you played with the top button of the light blue shirt he wore. you then spread your hand across his chest, "please?"

jenson's smile grew, "of course, honey. i'll always give you what you want. but, you have to be a good girl for me. so put away the teeth, angel, and let's have some fun tonight."

you ended up back at his home, the expensive kind of apartment with a price tag that made most raise their eyebrows. he had the money so why not spend it.

he was quick to undress you, and while the couch was closer he did have the capacity to be a gentleman and guided you to the bedroom. your clothes remained in a pile on the floor in the living room as he shepred you into the bedroom. then, when you got through the door he got you up in his arms and onto the bed.

"hands and knees, beautiful."

"are you going to use a condom?"

jenson flashed that winner's smile, "of course, tinkerbell. gotta play it safe for you, right?" the plan was turning in his head. easy to lie with your face in the covers. he patted your cheek and leaned in to kiss you on the lips. you tasted like cranberry juice and vodka, and he tasted like rum and coke.

his other hand on your thigh as he held you. his cock stirred in his jeans at the taste of you against him. you felt like something else, you could scam your way into some cash with just a few smiles. but jenson was greedy.

"hands and knees, beautiful. i want to see that pretty pussy and that lovely ass of yours." he chuckled before he pulled away and you got on your chest and knees with your ass in the air. perfect for him.

jenson played with your pussy as he got undressed, he dragged his fingers across it. played with your clit and even sank his digits into you. he felt the tight wet heat and he wondered how many men ran through you before. but, that didn't matter now. not when he had you in his metaphorical jaws.

it'll be the only cock you needed now, jenson would take care of his wife. there wasn't even a question if you would be his wife or not. he knew you'd walk down that aisle. he wasn't raising his baby without a ring on your finger.

you held onto the pillow under your head and heard him move around once he was undressed. you looked over and saw him get a condom out a desk drawer and you exhaled a sigh of relief. he smiled wickedly when you put your face back into the pillows.

when you weren't looking at him, the unused condom was dumped in the waste bin. he said as he approached you, his heavy cock bobbed as he got up behind you on the bed. he admired the glossiness of your cunt and licked his lips.

all for him, only for him.

he sank into you, no protection keeping that pretty pussy of yours safe. no, tonight you were going to take jenson raw. the thought excited him as he shifted his knees on the bed to get a better angle to fuck you. he pressed you at the middle of your shoulders, pushing you further into the bed with your pretty ass up against his hips. you felt amazing, the tight heat of your cunt wrapped up around him.

jenson button was one lucky bastard tonight.

he rocked up into you. his movements started off slow yet powerful. he moved up against you, both hands at your hips. he used it as leverage to move against you. it felt amazing, your cunt held onto him tightly.

like your body knew it wanted to get pregnant. and who was jenson to deny a beautiful woman what she so desired. your words said one thing and your body said another.

"fuck, jenson." you shuddered as the thrusts grew. his pace had his cock pressed up into your deepest parts. it made you panting against covers as he fucked you further into them. your breathing was heavier as you cunt fluttered around him.

the pleasure clouded your mind, all rationale was out the window. you didn't even question him that he actually put the condom on. your brain was flooded with the intense heat of pleasure. you gasped into the covers as the pleasure grew in your core.

there was something thumping in your soul from his movements and your core swam with a yearning for him. the way he fucked you, even when it was rough, quick sex. there was something about it that made your head swim with lust.

damn jenson button for knowing exactly how to get you going, how to pull orgasms out of you like a rabbit from a hat.

"you feel like heaven, honey. my little fucking tinkerbell with your fairy wings that i wanna pluck from you." he wrapped his arms around you and battered his cock into you. this pace quickened and you felt your foundation shake. his words were filthy and it lit a fire in your belly.

he continued to fuck you. he pressed his weight further down on you and made you squirm when his pace became brutal. he knew exactly how to keep you under him. you thought you were getting a nice payday from this, but you were going to walk a way with a bit more than some fresh euros stuffed in your purse.

more like his cum stuffed into your slick pussy, right where it belonged. don't worry, after you have his first kid he'll let out have a break, but he hoped within a decade you two will have three little button kids running around. of course he'll buy a nice house for your little growing family. but tonight, the logistics weren't important, tonight he was on a mission.

get his little tinkerbell, the girl desperate for male attention, nice and pregnant with his kid. then everything else will fall into place. his movements quickened till he was fucking you right into the mattress. his breathing was heavy and his body tense as he fucked you.

the bed creaked a little as you panted heavily into the covers. you whined, "fuck, jenson! i'm close!" then arched your back quite a bit as you felt climax begin to take its hold on you.

"that's it, beautiful. let it out for me. good girl, good girl." he cooed lowly and it made you head swim with heated want as you felt the throb in your body of climax. jenson knew your body better than you knew it yourself.

jenson kept up his pace. he fucked you with a simmering heat. he didn't last much longer, he couldn't have. he could feel the pleasure in his gut as soon finished inside of you. as climax hit, he shoved his entire length into you. made sure that the tip of his cock became familiar with the base of your cervix. they'd become quite acquainted over the next few months.

"fuck, jenson." you gasped as his pace slowed down and he gave you a playful smack on the behind.

"better than the rest, huh?" he said as he leaned over you, kept his softening cock inside of you for a moment. he kissed the shell of your ear and felt your tremble.

in a moment of post-orgasm weakness you croaked, "yes." and jenson felt nothing but a sense of pride that tonight he got you pregnant.

-

large hand on a swollen belly. been a whine since you've been at the bar and it's been only a few weeks since you became jenson button's wife. no late nights seeking the flirty attention of men older than you.

one of them finally got you tied down and in a few months you were going to be the mother to his child. his hands were still greedy for the softness of your hips, his tongue still wanted to explore your mouth. now he could whenever he wanted.

his hand grazed your middle, he loved the feeling of it. you looked so good. looked proper even when you struggled a little to get off the couch. you carried the baby well, even if it made you rely on jenson a little more (not that he was complaining)

you still don't know how it happened, but jenson simply shrugged and said, "miracles happen every day. and this one is ours." shutting down any questions about misuse of protection. all it took was one night and one little lie, and now jenson button clipped the wings of his little tinkerbell. <3

[zanarkandss]

the perks of having a teleslate

phainon/reader: 656 words; established relationship; mentions of rough sex; phainon is whipped but also very down to ruin you; gn reader; nsfw (minors dni)

part of the reason i wrote this was bc i kept making jokes about how the hell they were gonna deal w phones in ancient greece. well turns out they did and also gave a guy a gun. so what do i know.

Phainon’s wallpaper is you. You’re pretty sure he had you as his teleslate screen before you got together - ‘It’s what best friends do!’ he’d told you, grin plastered on his face. He even rotates the image out on a weekly basis, wanting to make sure he captures every moment of your life. 

It’s a sweet sentiment, really. You’re just…slightly concerned for his storage space. Surely it’s getting full by now? You’ll ask to go through his phone and he’ll hand you his teleslate no questions asked, and you can’t help but put your head in your hands at how many photos he’s got of you. Some of these, you have no idea when he’s managed to take them, or how he’s managed to convince your friends to send him photos of you when you’re not with him.

(‘What did you bribe them with?’ 

‘Who?’ You glare at him. ‘Ahem. Aglaea gets to go through my wardrobe and sort through it. She said she’d keep what you bought me, though, and said it was a blessing you had—‘ 

‘No more, please. I can't fault her for that.’)

Oh, and Titan’s forbid you try to delete any. He’d swiftly pull the device up and away out of reach, using his height against you. Only when you provide him with the number of kisses he wants (a lot) will he let you go through them again. If you want to delete them, he’ll allow you, though, not without going on about what the photo means to him. Losing to him is an inevitability; you end up way too flustered to let him continue to harp on about how much he loved you in this single moment. That he can do that for each of the photos he has is…a bit too much for your heart.

Well, at least he has the other ones of you hidden. They’re behind another app, something benign that no one would go on. And even then there’s a passcode. He’d whined about wanting to get some photos of the two of you having sex so that he could have something to use while he was away from you. 

You found it hard to say no. After all, he’s so earnest, and a hero to boot. Who else could reward him with something like this? 

Now, whenever he feels it right, he’ll take a photo. Maybe a quick video too, if he’s daring, though he’d much rather tend to you. These photos you don’t really realise he takes at that moment. You tend to be too fucked out, malleable to his whims as he grips your cheeks with one hand to get you to look into the camera, eyes bleary and body covered with bites. There are others as well. Some, where your face is pressed into the pillows and he pushes you down so hard you can see the veins in his arms. Others, where he’s got you laying on his chest, too tired to sit up to ride him properly, make-up streaked down your face. They’re always followed up with pictures where he’ll be stroking your hair, gentle, placating, as if he didn’t put you in this situation in the first place. 

Not that you’ve got room to complain. He tends to you well. Maybe you’re more annoyed at the fact he calls it ‘making love’ like some young pining maiden instead of a man who can fold you in half and ruin you until morning comes, only stopping because he has duties to attend to instead of being left drained of all energy.  

Still, you love him. And he loves you too. You’re the only one he’d ever dream of being with like this, the one he wants to see the future of Amphoreus with. And if anything comes between him and that dream? Well, he’s enough strength to protect your honour. He is not a Chrysos Heir for nothing, after all.

© 2025 zanarkandss; do not plagirise, translate, or repost my works elsewhere.

[meeraonpole]

Twitch Steams : LN4 X Y/N

Summary: Lando goes live on Twitch, but his stream takes a cute turn when you bring him food. Chat instantly falls in love with your presence, demanding you stay. After giving up his chair for you, the two of you share adorable moments, jokes, and laughter while chat spams heart emojis. By the end of the stream, it’s clear—Lando might be the streamer, but you’re the real star.

Lando had just booted up his Twitch stream, a cheeky grin on his face as he greeted the thousands of viewers flooding into chat. His headset sat slightly askew on his messy curls, and his hoodie was oversized as always.

"Hello, hello! What's up, chat?" he said, adjusting his mic. "We’re back at it today. Gonna play some tarkov, maybe some Valorant later. Who knows?"

The chat was already going wild, messages flying past at an unreadable speed:

"Lando, why are you always late?"

"McLaren merch WHEN?"

"Why does your hair always look like you just fought a tornado?"

Lando chuckled as he scrolled through the messages. "Alright, alright, calm down. I was like—only five minutes late today, which, in my world, is early, okay?" He clicked into his racing setup and got ready for a few laps, but before he could even get started, there was a soft knock at his door.

"Uh-oh, who's that?" he mused aloud, glancing toward the door. "Hold on, chat, someone’s about to interrupt our very serious business."

A moment later, the door creaked open, and in walked you, holding a plate of food in one hand and a drink in the other. Lando’s face immediately lit up.

"Oooooh, look at that, chat! Delivery service has arrived!" he said dramatically, leaning back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "You’ve been sitting here for hours, Lando. You need to eat."

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, taking the plate from you. "Wait, did you make this, or did you just steal it from the kitchen?"

You scoffed, placing the drink down next to him. "Rude. I made it, obviously."

"Chat, do we trust this?" Lando asked, pretending to inspect the food suspiciously. Cue the flood of messages.

"Trust her, Lando."

"Y/N best girlfriend confirmed."

"Lando, if you don’t eat that, we riot."

You laughed as you backed toward the door. "Alright, I’m leaving you and your weird little fan club alone. Enjoy your food, superstar."

Lando pouted dramatically. "You’re not gonna stay? Chat, tell her to stay!"

Chat immediately spammed:

"STAYYY."

"Y/N COME BACK."

"Lando is 100x cuter when you're around."

You shook your head. "No, you guys have fun. I’m not stealing your spotlight."

And with that, you disappeared out of frame, leaving Lando to sigh dramatically before stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. "Well, chat, there goes the love of my life, abandoning me in my time of need."

But the chat wasn’t letting it go.

"CALL HER BACK."

"We need Y/N content!"

Lando groaned playfully. "Alright, alright, fine! You guys are so needy. Let me—wait, I have an idea."

He reached for his phone and called you, putting it on speaker. After a few rings, you picked up.

"What now?" you asked teasingly.

"Chat is basically threatening to riot if you don’t come back," Lando said, grinning. "So, congratulations, you’re famous."

You sighed dramatically, but he could hear the smile in your voice. "Fine. But only for a little bit."

Seconds later, you reappeared in the room, and Lando immediately got up from his chair. "Here, take my seat."

You frowned. "But where are you gonna sit?"

"Don’t worry about it," he said, walking off camera. Moments later, he dragged in another chair from across the room and plopped down next to you. The chat exploded.

"HE GAVE UP HIS CHAIR FOR HER."

"THE BARE MINIMUM BUT WE LOVE HIM FOR IT."

"Boyfriend of the year, confirmed."

Lando grinned as he read the messages. "See, chat, I am a gentleman. Give me some credit!"

You chuckled, leaning back in the chair as Lando scrolled through chat. "You guys are too much."

"They love you," Lando said, nudging you playfully. "More than they love me, actually. Should I be concerned?"

"Very," you teased.

The two of you continued streaming, answering silly questions and joking around. At one point, Lando leaned his head on your shoulder dramatically. "Chat, I’m exhausted. Y/N, take over."

You laughed, adjusting the headset. "Alright, guys, what’s up? Welcome to my stream now. First order of business: roasting Lando."

Chat loved it, spamming:

"FINALLY, THE TAKEOVER."

"Roast him, Y/N. He deserves it."

Lando gasped, sitting up. "Okay, no, this was a terrible idea. I take it back."

You grinned, poking his cheek. "Too late, superstar."

The chat was going wild, and Lando couldn’t stop smiling at you. He reached over and intertwined his fingers with yours under the table, unseen by the camera but enough for you to squeeze his hand lightly.

Eventually, Lando stretched and yawned. "Alright, chat, I think we’re gonna call it a night. Y/N has stolen my stream, my chair, and my dignity, so I think it’s time to go."

You smirked. "Pretty sure you lost your dignity a long time ago."

Chat spammed "LMAO" as Lando put a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Wow. Chat, did you see that? My own girlfriend betraying me on live stream."

You grinned, leaning into him just a little. "They saw nothing."

The chat exploded again, filled with heart emojis and messages like "GET MARRIED ALREADY" and "CUTEST COUPLE ON TWITCH."

Lando glanced at the screen, then at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, chat, love you guys, but I think I’m gonna go spend some time with this one now."

"Finally," you said, standing up. "Took you long enough."

He rolled his eyes but reached for your hand as he ended the stream, the final words from chat being:

"PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS."

"Lando, you better treat her like a queen."

"This was the best stream ever."

And as Lando shut his PC down, he looked over at you, grinning. "See, told you they love you more than me."

You shrugged. "Well, can you blame them?"

With a laugh, he pulled you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Nope. Not even a little."

Tbh I don't really like this one but its ok don't really have anything else to say but yea enjoy the rest of your dayyyy

oh lemme know if there are any errors

[dollyhao]

lawyer!abby x client!reader (married to man but dude is barely mentioned, promise. fingering, tension, im not good at these lol, also don’t even know if this is good or not :/, let me know)

can you guys believe i couldn't find any buff women in suits...? maybe i wasn't looking hard enough...

when abby decided she wanted to be a lawyer, she thought she was gonna be some bad ass attorney that puts all the bad guys away. what she never expected was that she would end up dealing with messy divorces. but no complaining on her part; the pay is good and the mess is entertaining.

But when a woman with the bright smile on her face walks into her office she's intrigued, no one walks in here so happy. she stands up from behind her desk to shake your hand, "Good Afternoon, I'm Abby Anderson. It's nice to meet you."

your still smiling at her and you grab her hand, "It's nice to meet you; seems like your gonna be my saving grace." abby laughs and gestures for you to sit. "Would you like to start by telling me your situation?"

you hum and your smile slips a little, "ive been married for the last 7 years and i just wasn't happy anymore." you shrug a little. abby waits for you to continue but you don't so she hums. she can't help when her eyes trace over your features, you don't look like someone who was married for 7 years, you look so youthful and beautiful.

"no details?" abby gives you a teasing smirk as she looks at you. you giggle a little, "hmm, my ex-husband is a rich man who thought i was gonna cry and beg him to stay after i found out he cheated. but i didn't and asked for a divorce." abby hums writing some details down, "so what are you looking to get out of this?" abby puts her pen down, watching the way your lips lift into a smirk. "i want to take him for all he has."

abby smiles back at you standing and coming to stand in front of you, "i can see a blossoming relationship coming from this case," abby holds her hand out again to shake your hand. you smile and bite your lip before taking her hand and shaking it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you and abby spend a good amount of time together settling things for a divorce settlement. you both have gotten so close, an unspoken connection has been building between the two of you; like abby's hand on the small of your back, coffee 'meetings' where you guys don't talk about the case at all, standing a little too close to each other and more unnecessary touches.

it all reached a boiling point when you and abby were sitting in her office after hours when abby pulls out some wine and glasses she keeps behind her desk, you should've left an hour ago but you and abby weren't ready to leave each other.

your sipping from you glass while you listen to abby talk about her college days. you kick your shoes off stretching your legs in-between you and abby on the couch you were lounging on. abby had her blazer off, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low and and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. she looked so good sitting there with her legs spread and her hair falling over her shoulders.

your thoughts are getting hazy when abby stops talking, since you haven't responded to anything she's said in the last 5 minutes. she looks over at you and bites her bottom lip gently. seeing the way the moon shines through her window and lights up your face, she wants you closer.

"are you alright?" she whispers scooting closer to you, picking up your legs and placing them in her lap. "mhmm," your eyes fix on the way abby's lip is still in between her teeth. "i could sit and listen to you all day," you match her tone, scooting closer to play with the ends of her hair.

"i could watch you all day." she mumbles putting her hand on the back of your neck leaning closer to you, bumping your noses together. you close the gap between the two of you, kissing her lips with all the tension that's been building for the last couple months. abby reciprocates with just as much passion; hand in your hair the other on your waist trying to get you closer. you push at her shoulders even though your lips chase hers.

you know you shouldn't do this, not now atleast. you pull away from her watching her as you catch your breath, her lips pink and swollen looking like they're ready to get back on you. "i should go..." you whisper.

abby looks into your eyes, "if that's what you want," you nod and pull your legs off her lap. she nods, "let me take you home." you nod again watching her grab her coat and keys. you stand and do the same walking out the building and to abby's car.

when she pulls in front of your house, she looks over at you waiting for you. you turn towards her, leaning over the console to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth then directly on her lips. "thank you." you tell her before getting out and walking to your front door.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

on the day your divorce was finalized and you successfully milked you husband dry of his money, you and abby were pure smiles and grins as you rode back to her office. abby said she wants to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate and you agree, but all you can think about is thanking her for all she has done in so many different ways.

this woman who has been nothing but gentle and attentive to you since she's met you, has melted your heart in a way no one ever has. you want her in a way you never have your husband or anyone else. but you might be thinking too much into this; this might be nothing but two people who worked close together who are obviously attracted to one another.

when you entered her office, you walk over to her desk and lean against it. “i can’t believe you did it,” you say for the second time since you left your ex and his lawyer. abby comes to stand in front of you smiling, "i didn't do much, your husband and his idiot lawyer made it too easy." you stare into her eyes before your eyes flick down to her lips. "i want to thank you."

“you don’t need to do that.” she licks her lip, caging you in as she puts her hands on her desk. her breath fans over your face as you have to restrain yourself from leaning forward and kissing her.

abby turns you around pressing you against her desk, "you've been an angel throughout all this," she whispers in your ears, "i wanna thank you," she kisses the back of your neck. she pushes you down across her desk, untucking your blouse from your skirt and pushing it up to expose your bare back. you shiver at her cold hands as they run across your skin and jump when you feel her lips press a kiss to the base of your spine.

"abby, touch me please." you turn your head to look at her, unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. "what's the rush? i thought you were supposed to be thanking me," her eyes are locked on your lacy pink panties as her big hands grip your ass. "i-i am. i just want-" you whine and jump when her hand collides with your ass. "then be patient."

you nod as abby's thumb runs up and down the wet fabric covering your dripping cunt. you whine pushing back against her, she moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers into your tight walls, feeling you tighten immediately.

you moan, jaw slack, her name caught in your throat as she fucks you on her fingers. "now what do you say?" she reaches her hand to grab your hair in her grip pulling your body against hers. you brace your hands on her desk as you fuck yourself against her fingers.

"thank you! t-thank you," a long drawn out moan falls from your lips as she uses her fingers to scissor your pussy open. abby's breathing is getting heavy as she falls more and more into the intoxicating moment; the look on your face, the feeling of you wrapped around her, the sounds your making as your orgasm builds.

"i want you. i-i want to have you all to myself." abby whispers against your sweaty neck. you clench hard around abby as you moan out, "ah, yesss! yes please." you reach your hand to hold the arm thats hitting just the right spot, overstimulating you. your orgasm subsides and you lay back on her desk. "you good beautiful?" abby picks up your skirt, pulling you up and zipping your skirt back up then tucking your stained panties into her pocket. abby moves the hair out your face with a smile and you nod.

that ended up not being the last time you've fucked abby in her office, she's up and moved you in her house where she fucks you in the shower in the morning then makes breakfast for you after. and divorcing your husband continues to be the best decision you've made.

[more-mara]

NO WAIT please talk more about WAG!Carlos because I actually REALLY LOVE WAG!Carlos and it's been on my mind for a long time and I felt like I'm alone in this. I really like the established relationship idea of Oscar looking mighty walking alone in the paddock, but once Carlos is there, walking alongside Oscar and holding his hand, everyone can see who's the dom and who's the babygirl 😂 not that dom dom but like who tops and bottoms.

In my mind Carlos is a man in finance or consulting. Because, damn, everytime I picture him in fitted shirts and dark coloured slacks my mind goes brrr. They share an apartment in London and Oscar always goes back home after races to him. Carlos visits Oscar for races everytime he can (but he always makes time for Silverstone), and everytime he visits, the journalists and social media literally go very crazy about "Piastri's very hot, sculpted by the God himself, Spanish boyfriend". Oh and Oscar claiming the Spain GP as his home race because "my partner is Spanish and he lives and breathes Real Madrid and I'm very sure I'll marry him so".

I can't picture of the announcement of Oscar coming out, but I think I like the idea of soft launching first through his instagram or maybe Estrella Galicia makes Oscar and Lando talk Spanish slangs and Oscar aces all the questions and be like "My boyfriend is Spanish and he likes to teach me Spanish terms" something like that. Then boom Carlos coming to a race with him.

Eventhough Carlos is the one who tops and is very good in bed, but him also being soft and fluffy and calls Oscar with pet names in Spanish (tesoro, cariño, mi amor, etc) and cooks for him everytime Oscar's back home.

I can picture Oscar on break, dumping holiday pictures on his instagram and everyone goes crazy of Carlos shirtless and flaunting his abs and his super fit body in one (or many) of the pictures. Carlos having his instagram private and everyone will be asking Oscar to let his boyfriend open his instagram for public lol.

I'm going to stop because if I continue, I'll literally dump my thoughts (including the NSFW ones) and this ask will be very long lol thank you for reading my rants!

Oh, you’ve been THINKING about this lol. Anon I love this please continue. Side note, I had written an entire response to this once already but tumblr deleted it 🤡 I can’t remember half the shit I originally said but here we go lmao

I 100% see the man in finance vibes I just wanted to go against the grain and say something else lol but I absolutely imagine him in some white collar job. He constantly wears tailored suits, even in hot weather which Oscar will complain to no end about but ultimately it won’t change Carlos’ mind because it’s his brand.

Oscar gets a little irked by it because he’s supposed to be the celebrity, yet he give off so much just a guy energy when he’s walking hand in hand with Carlos. Oscar highkey loves the attention which is why it bothers him so much when Carlos steals it from him.

In comes the Spanish gp and Carlos is in yet another equivalent price of a mortgage suit. Osc saying it’s “basically my home gp now, I guess,” with a giggle as he eyes the screen where Carlos is clapping and smirking when he notices the attention on him- sending a little wink towards the camera that has Oscar stumbling over his words.

The media always goads Oscar for being “the girlfriend” in the relationship (let’s be real, media love to heteroify queer relationships and would 100% do it to them) but it’s always water off Oscar’s back as he redirects the conversation to how sexy and successful his boyfie is, “He’s just bought a new property in New York 🙂,”

Regarding coming out, Oscar is absolutely of the “I don’t need to come out, I’m just gonna live my life,” stance. He probably drops a “my partner is opening a new business back in London, he’d definitely know better than me if that’s a good idea,” when an interviewer asks about whether he’d buy a house in Monaco. Twitter goes crazy “DID OSCAR JUST SAY HE???!!” and that’s that, now Carlos shows up everywhere he can to show off who Oscar managed to pull.

Oscar loves the pet names but can’t stand it when Carlos uses them in public- goes beet red when Carlos calls him ‘mi amor’ when speaking with a journalist.

NSFW because I can’t help myself- Carlos always refuses to fuck Oscar on a race weekend because “I cannot affect your performance,” and Oscar fucking hates it. Oscar is lowkey needy in bed and can be a little insatiable at times, especially during a stressful week (e.g. a race week) so he goes out of his way to tease Carlos every chance he gets- even in public to see how long it will take for Carlos to snap. Except Carlos never does and remains firm in his stance which Oscar whines and complains about constantly until Sunday night when Carlos finally touches him and fucks the weeks brattiness out of him

Side note, Carlos is good in bed, like- really good, to the point where Oscar can’t even think about anything except for Carlos’ insane dick game. Carlos is experienced in so many ways that Oscar gets insanely jealous every time he thinks about it- getting angry at the thought of Carlos fucking anyone besides him. It’s a funny contrast because Oscar was basically celibate when he and Carlos first met and their first time in bed had Oscar experiencing pleasures he never though possible.

And yeah, Oscar just fully posting thirst traps of Carlos to make everyone jealous that only he gets to see it on a daily basis.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R

Notes: You know what anon, great point. This is gonna be a two-parter. Not beta-read.

If you read this and you haven't seen The Pitt....Come on in, the water's fine.

Warnings: Angst; fluff; all that good stuff

Summary: For as amicable as the divorce had been, the two of you had problems. When Michael was stressed, he shut you out from the source of it, determined not to bring it home. But as hard as he tried, the strain and drain of his work hung on him. You'd wanted to be a safe space for him, but as the pressures of his job mounted, he'd never allowed you to be.

"Didn't think you'd be working today."

It's the most you've said beyond your answering the basics. He hasn't said anything beyond asking the routine questions. He'd had the good grace to school his expression when he'd asked about any medications (blood pressure, cholesterol, birth control), and you'd said no to all.

“We’re slammed. All hands on deck.”

“Yeah, I know.” You wince as he takes careful hold of your wrist, lowering himself onto the stool beside your hospital bed and getting a good look at the jagged cut stretching the length of your palm. 

"So you were replacing a lightbulb in the living room?"

"Uh-huh."

"What were you standing on?"

"...A book."

He shoots you a disbelieving look from beneath his lashes.

"...On top of another book."

A further tip of his brows, and you sigh, finally conceding, "On top of a cardboard box."

He looses a soft, almost grudging laugh as he looks back down at your hand.

"Surprised you didn't stand on the coffee table."

"It's rickety."

"But the carboard box-book combo was stable? What happened to the lightbulb?"

"I lost my balance, my grip tightened and uh...The lightbulb didn't like that."

"You hit your head on the way down?"

"No."

"Alright." He fishes into his pocket for a small flashlight, leaning in to get a closer look. You hold still as he diligently examines the wound.

"It broke pretty cleanly, I don't think there are any other bits in there. I was able to piece it back together—not to use, you know. Just to check."

He hums, giving a small nod. "Couple of stitches and then we'll get you on your way."

"Not gonna summon one of the ducklings for the demonstration?" You ask, unable to stand the relative quiet. "Dana says it's their first day."

"Hm? Oh," He shakes his head with a smile. "Far as I could tell, they were all occupied when I headed back here."

“How are they doing?”

“Well, we’ve got a fainter, a nicknamer, a high-fiver—Local anesthesia—little pinch, don’t look,” He warns, and you turn your head, wincing as the needle dips into your palm. “There we go…And uh, a kid who’s wearing a different pair of scrubs every time I see him.” 

“Fashion show?” 

“Unfortunate series of fluids.”

“Yikes.” 

“Mm.” 

You tentatively glance back down, watching him draw the needle through your palm.

“How are you doing besides that?” You press. 

“...You know.” 

But you don’t know. For as amicable as the divorce had been, the two of you had problems. When Michael was stressed, he shut you out from the source of it, determined not to bring it home. But as hard as he tried, the strain and drain of his work hung on him. You'd wanted to be a safe space for him, but as the pressures of his job mounted, he'd never allowed you to be.

You sit in quiet for a few moments, allowing him to zone in on his work as you let yourself just focus on him.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him in months, though not the first time you’ve spoken. You’ve exchanged the odd texts for holidays, birthdays. The last time you’d seen one another had been brief—hauling a box of things from your car to his car. It marked the official end to your divorce, your possessions and daily lives extricated entirely from one another (save for one of his hoodies, which you'd tucked into your closet and sworn up and down that you simply couldn't find).

But that hadn’t stopped the hurt or the ache of your loss. It hadn’t sapped the warmth, the comfort of the memories of your good days together. It hadn’t lessened what you knew about him, what you could tell from a look.  

"You need a haircut." You tease, tipping your head to get a better look at him. You just manage to see the way a smile tugs at his lips. You hesitate to add anything else, to keep him in a good mood, but you just can't help yourself.

"You're not sleeping," You accuse softly. Robby draws in a slow breath as he threads the needle through your skin again. 

"No," He admits. You wait for him to set the needle aside before you reach out, gently combing your fingers through his hair. His shoulders sag, head tipping into your hand as you gently run your nails down to the nape of his neck.

"What's goin' on, Mikey?" You murmur. His chin tips up to meet your eye, and your palm slides around to gently cup his cheek, thumb smoothing across his beard.   

“…You know what today is?” He asks.

“Adamson?”

“Yeah.”

“S’why I didn’t think you’d be in today.”

“So you stood on two books and a cardboard box to change a lightbulb today, just in case you needed to go to the ER so that you wouldn’t see me?”

“No. Purely coincidental. Besides,” You lean a little closer. “I like seeing you.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, brighter and wider than the last, and your stomach flutters with his admission:

“I like seeing you, too.”

“You two sure you’re divorced?”

The sound of Evans’ voice makes the two of you reel away from one another, your hand lifting from his cheek guiltily. She casts a mischievous smile between the two of you before nodding over her shoulder.

“We’ve got incoming—pileup on the I-79.”

“Be right there.”

Evans casts you one more cursory glance and adds, “See me before you leave, Mrs. R,” before turning, tugging the curtain closed behind her. You try to get a good look at Robby after she calls you that, but he’s up and moving before you can.

“Let’s get you bandaged up and on your way,” Robby pats your knee before stepping around the bed. “We’ll need you to come in for a wound check in a couple of days, make sure it’s coming along nicely.”

“…Can’t be a home visit?” You venture, glancing back toward him. You don’t trust yourself to meet his eye; you still can’t believe you asked it. But you haven’t gotten a good enough look at him, and you just want to know what’s going on—really going on.

You’re not sure it’ll work. He didn’t trust you with those feelings when you were his wife—why should he trust you with them now? 

“We need it on the record.”

It’s a diplomatic answer, and you’re certain that it’s all you’ll get. You nod a bit, watching as he neatly wraps the bandage. 

“You’ve still got tylenol extra strength in the house?” He asks. 

“Mhm.” 

“Take that as needed, up to—”

“1500 milligrams a day, I know.” 

“Still gotta say it.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“There.” 

Robby looks up at you, his hands still wrapped warmly around yours. He draws his lower lip into his mouth, and for a moment, you’re certain that he’s going to say something else—but the curtain is drawn back again.

“Hey Robby, there’s a—Oh. Shit."

You close your eyes, fighting back your own curse before you turn your head, shooting the doctor a tight smile.

“Hey, Frank.” 

“Hey, Mrs. R. Am I interrupting—”

“Nope! I'm all set here. And you guys have incoming, so I should skedaddle.”

Robby lets go of your hand, scooching the stool back as you slide off of the bed, standing. 

“Nice to see you.” 

“Yeah, Frank, you, too.” You pat his shoulder with your good hand before turning to face Robby again. “I’m gonna head out.” 

“Take it easy with the hand. Rest it.”

“I will.”

“I mean it.” 

“Robby—” 

“I know you. You’ll get all cocky with the local anesthetic in your system and you’ll be in agony when it wears off. You drive yourself here?”

“Uber.”

“Good.” 

“Mhm.” You turn to the sandwich cart, eyeing the labels before fishing one out. “I’ll see you around.”

“You’re taking that, really?” 

“It’s for Earl,” You insist, taking a couple more steps back. "Get some rest, Robby."

“Yeah.” 

You let yourself get one last long look at him before you turn away, striding determinedly toward the exit. You just manage to skirt by Evans, taking advantage of the fact that she’s deep in conversation with one of the orderlies. You give the attendants at the front desk a quick wave before you pass down the rows of chairs, holding the sandwich out to Earl. His face splits with a wide grin as he takes it. 

“You’re the best, Mrs. R.”

“Take care’a yourself, Earl.”

“Hey, you, too!” 

-- 

You make it all the way into the parking lot before your phone buzzes with Robby’s message:  I can change that lightbulb when my shift ends

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; 

@missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Valentine’s Day Fic - First Preview

Have a sneak peak! Warning for minor sexting 😉

Ring ring ring

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked along the streets of Hell. Pulling it out, you saw Lucifer's adorable rubber duck icon pop up on the screen. You smiled and hit the answer button.

"Hey Luci, what's going on?" you answered cheerfully.

"Oh, you know, just waiting for my darling to return home to me," he sighed dramatically on the other side of the phone.

"Hon, it's only been an hour!" you scolded playfully. "I had to pick out something special for tomorrow, you know."

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day; one of Lucifer's favorite mortal holidays. The chocolates, the flowers, the romantic setting, everything about it excited the little devil! And of course he always treated you to a special candlelit dinner, complete with dessert and champaign. But you knew Lucifer always looked forward to the end of the night; that time he gets to worship you as the goddess he sees you as.

This year, however, you decided you wanted to spice things up a bit. Which is why you made it a point to visit the Entertainment District which housed the best collection of sex apparel in the pride ring. Lucifer insisted on giving you anything you wanted, but new lingerie wasn't all that you were looking for; some new toys were definitely needed. It took a while to convince him since you knew he didn't like being left alone for too long, but you promised him that you would be as quick as you could. Nevertheless, that didn't seem to stop him from calling you up after only a short amount of time.

"I knoooowwwww," Lucifer groaned on the other end. "But is there any way I can convince you to come home sooner?"

His proposition intrigued you, so you decided to play along. "And how would you do that, I wonder."

You swear you could almost hear him smile. "Well, my dear, since you got to go out and look for a special outfit, I thought I would try my hand at creating one just for me! Gotta say, I'm pretty happy with it! Tight in all the right places!" You heard the static-filled snap of the fabric hit his skin as he spoke.

"Wait," you paused, moving yourself up against a building. "Are you wearing it right now?" He was doing this on purpose, you knew he was. He knew how to tempt you. And picturing Lucifer in something less than decent did nothing to help keep your composure out in public. You could already feel the heat in your face begin to rise.

Lucifer chuckled lightly. "Would you like a sneak peak, love?" Before you could answer, there was a buzzing on your phone. He already had a picture queued up just to tease you. You opened the message with a gasp, fumbling your phone in your hands. The picture showed of his exposed stomach with the rest of his body covered in a lovely black. It looked as though he shot this photo from the waist up because you could make out his forked tongue that was sticking out through his sharpened teeth, smiling wickedly at the camera.

Quickly, you closed the picture hoping know one else had seen what was on your screen. "You ass, I almost dropped my phone!"

"Hey, you're the one who opened it!" he shot back. "But I can tell you like it, isn't that right?"

He was right, of course he was! How could you not! But he was getting too cocky for his own good. If he wanted to be a brat today, you had no trouble giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if it meant cutting your outing a little bit short. You were going to surprise him with his favorite chocolate candies, but perhaps you could get them after you taught him a lesson.

"I'll be home in 15 minutes," you responded in a hushed tone, trying your best not to draw the attention of others. "If you aren't handcuffed to that bed by the time I'm back, you're gonna be in for it."

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Lucifer murmured, sending shivers down your spine. What a fucking tease, but God, did you love him.

“You have 14 minutes now,” was all you said before hanging up the phone as you pushed yourself away from the wall and began to walk back towards the Morningstar mansion, paying no attention to the onlookers who noticed your brisk pace as you passed them. There was someone who needed to be put in his place.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOWING SMOKE

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after rafe betrays her trust, y/n exposes his lies at a party, humiliating him in front of everyone—and walking away without looking back.

based on this ask !! i hope it’s what you asked for anon, sorry it’s not super soul-crushing but it’s very angsty and includes cheating >:( fuck cheaters !!

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: cheating, angst w/ no happy ending, allusions to sex, alcohol consumption, cursing, bad bitch!reader, asshole!rafe, mentions of daddy issues, reader finally putting rafe in his place, i’m thinking season 1/2 rafe because he was a cocky little shit🙄 (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The air at the Boneyard was thick with salt and sweat, the bonfire crackling like a living thing, casting long shadows over the shifting sand. Laughter and music mixed with the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the party in full swing. But Y/N wasn't here for fun.

Her grip on the red solo cup was tight, knuckles white from how hard she was holding it. The drink inside had gone warm, untouched. It wasn't why she came.

She was here for Rafe.

Her heart wasn't racing anymore. The initial sting of betrayal had settled into something colder, something sharper. She had spent days, weeks, pretending not to notice the whispers, the way people looked at her with pity. She had ignored the concerned glances from JJ, the hesitance in Pope's voice when he said, "Maybe you should talk to Sarah." She had brushed off Kie's sighs, the way she muttered, "You're not gonna like what you hear."

She had known. Deep down, she had known.

And then Sarah had confirmed it.

"I didn't want to tell you," Sarah had said earlier that evening, voice low, like she could somehow soften the blow. "But you deserve better. Rafe's been seeing other girls, Y/N. He's been lying to you."

Lying. Cheating. Playing her for a fool.

And then she had seen it with her own eyes.

Rafe Cameron, her Rafe, the boy who had spent countless nights tangled up with her, whispering things he swore he meant—his hands were on another girl. Blonde, pretty, giggling at something he said while he leaned in just a little too close.

And suddenly, all the times he'd shown up late, all the unexplained disappearances, the half-hearted apologies, they made sense.

She had been so fucking stupid.

But Y/N felt nothing now. No heartbreak, no regret. Just ice-cold clarity.

Rafe Cameron had walked into her life when she was at her weakest, slipping through the cracks her ex had left behind. He had smiled, kissed her, whispered things that felt too easy, too smooth. It was never supposed to be anything real, just something casual, just a way to forget. But then it had changed.

He had changed.

Late-night conversations that lasted until dawn. Foreheads pressed together, words left unspoken. His arms around her waist, his voice low when he admitted, "I don't do this, but with you..."

Lies. All of it.

And now, she was going to make sure everyone knew exactly what kind of person Rafe Cameron really was.

She spotted him easily—he was impossible to miss. A walking ego dressed in an expensive polo shirt, short sleeves clinging to his toned biceps. A sight that would usually make her knees weak—not anymore. He was laughing with his friends, head thrown back, completely unaware of the storm heading his way.

Y/N pushed through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs, the knowing glances.

"Rafe."

Her voice cut through the music, through the party.

He turned, blue eyes locking onto hers. For a split second, there was something unreadable in his expression—maybe surprise, maybe guilt. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar smirk, the one he always wore when he thought he could charm his way out of anything.

"Baby," he drawled, tilting his head. "Didn't think you'd show."

"Yeah?" She took another step forward, voice sharp. "Well, I had a few things I wanted to say to you."

Something in her tone made the smirk slip.

"Tell me, Rafe," she continued, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is she prettier than she was on the internet?"

A hush fell over the crowd. Conversations died. Even the music felt quieter.

Rafe's brows furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me." She crossed her arms. "You've been screwing around, haven't you?"

Murmurs spread through the party, people shifting closer, drawn to the unfolding scene like moths to a flame.

Rafe let out a short laugh, but it wasn't confident—it was forced. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit."

Her voice was steady. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't break. Not for him.

"You knew my last love let me down," she said, tone cutting. "It was your one perfect opening, wasn't it? You saw me hurting, and you thought, why not? You wanted something easy. Someone easy. And the moment it stopped being fun for you, the moment it got real, you did what you always do. You ran."

Rafe's jaw clenched. "Y/N, stop."

"No." She took a step closer, her voice unwavering. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You're just a spoiled little bitch with daddy issues, aren't you? You think money fixes everything, that you can get away with anything. But you know what, Rafe? You just look stupid."

Someone in the crowd—JJ, probably—let out a low whistle.

"You look stupid going out," she continued, her voice rising. "If she's got a pulse, she meets your standards now. It's pathetic."

Rafe's face darkened, but he said nothing. Because he knew she was right.

"You couldn't point her out in any crowd, could you?" Y/N's voice was mocking now, full of venom. "She doesn't matter. None of them do. They're just distractions, just more girls to help you bury the baggage you've been carrying."

A few gasps echoed through the crowd. Even Topper, standing nearby, looked disappointed.

"Man," Topper muttered, shaking his head. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah," JJ piped up, crossing his arms. "I mean, we all knew you were an asshole, but even for you, this is low."

Rafe's hands curled into fists at his sides. "Shut the fuck up, Maybank."

"Or what?" JJ grinned. "You gonna hit me? Take your anger out on someone else because you can't handle the truth?"

Pope, standing next to Kie, shook his head. "She deserves better."

Sarah, arms crossed, looked at her brother with something like disgust. "You don't even look sorry."

Y/N let out a cold laugh. "Of course he doesn't. Because he's not." She turned her gaze back to Rafe. "You know what the sad part is? I actually believed you. I actually thought, maybe this time, it's different. But it never is, is it?"

Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to find the words.

Y/N took one last step forward, lowering her voice just enough that only he could hear. "I'll say what they won't, Rafe. I know everything they don't. And I see you for exactly what you are."

He swallowed, throat bobbing. For the first time all night, he looked truly unsettled.

Good.

Without another word, Y/N lifted her drink—still untouched—and, with the sharpest satisfaction, poured the entire thing over his head.

Gasps. Laughter. Cheers.

Rafe stood there, drenched, humiliated, and for the first time in his life—completely powerless.

Y/N turned away, not sparing him another glance. She walked past the crowd, past the Pogues, past the remnants of something that had never been real.

She didn't cry. She didn't look back.

And as she disappeared into the night, Rafe Cameron realised—too late—that he had just lost the only person who had ever truly seen him.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope this was somewhat what you asked for anon !! if not, feel free to drop another request with specifics and i’d be so happy to write that :)

editing the few drafts i have so i can upload them asap !! just in case anybodies wondering why i’m uploading so much, it’s because i have pre-written some of these requests form weeks ago and have only just gotten around to editing them :)

[arilevenatz]

Outscored 𝟐┃C.JH

Pairing: jock! Jongho x Reader

Genre/trope: enemies to lovers au

Word Count: 25.7k (💀) [it's gonna be a 2 parter]

Warnings: biker jongho (need I say more?), he is also a bit annoying, but he becomes a MAN at the end

AN: Ok I'm a sucker for jongho, u guys know it. And after he posted his picture I had a seizure. And I kinda slipped and wrote this whole thing. And yeah this is for all the jongho girlies out there like me. Please please please love this as I spent a lot of time writing this!

This is part two. Read part one here-

one | two

The project turned out better than either of them had expected, and when the professor handed back the grades, it was no surprise that YN and Jongho had scored the highest. The students in the class started whispering about them, dubbing them "the power partners."

YN, however, hated the nickname. She rolled her eyes every time she heard someone say it. “Why can’t people just mind their own business?” she muttered to Hanni one day in the cafeteria.

Hanni, ever the supportive friend, smirked. “Maybe because you and Jongho looked like an actual dream team. Admit it—you two killed that project.”

“Still,” YN huffed, stabbing her salad with unnecessary force, “I don’t like it.”

Over at the ATEEZ table, Jongho wasn’t exactly thrilled with the nickname either. He frowned as one of his friends, Wooyoung, teased him about it.

“Power partners, huh? Sounds about right,” Wooyoung said with a sly grin. “I mean, you two make a good team.”

“Shut up,” Jongho grumbled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like it either.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mingi teased, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like it. But you don’t seem to mind being around her all the time.”

Jongho scowled, but before he could retort, Yeosang, who had been silently observing, spoke up. “Let’s be real, Jongho. Do you actually dislike her, or are you just saying that because you don’t want to admit something?”

“What’s there to admit?” Jongho snapped, crossing his arms.

Seonghwa, ever the voice of reason, sighed. “You’ve been weird about her since day one. You get irritated when she’s better than you, but you also can’t stop noticing every little thing about her. Either figure it out or let it go, because we’re tired of your denial.”

“Exactly,” San added with a grin. “Test it out. See if you actually like her or if she’s just in your head because she’s always in your space.”

Jongho glared at them all, but their words stuck with him. That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way she had taken charge during the project, the way she had cooked for him, the way she had looked at him when she smiled after their grade was announced.

“Do I… like her?” he muttered to himself, the thought making him feel uneasy.

He shook his head, frustrated. No, it couldn’t be that. It was just… annoyance. Competition. Nothing more.

But the thought lingered, and for the first time, Jongho wasn’t so sure of his own answer.

Jongho’s dilemma had become everyone else’s entertainment. His friends, fed up with his constant denial, decided to take matters into their own hands. They came up with a "foolproof" series of tests to help him figure out his feelings.

Test 1: The Jealousy Test

Hongjoong kicked things off by walking up to YN during lunch. With his signature smirk, he leaned casually against her table and said, “YN, you’re looking gorgeous today. How about we ditch class and grab some coffee?”

Jongho, sitting across the cafeteria, froze mid-bite. His eyes narrowed as he watched Hongjoong laugh at something YN said.

“Dude,” Mingi whispered, nudging him. “Why are you gripping your fork like you’re about to stab someone?”

“I’m not,” Jongho muttered through gritted teeth.

“Uh-huh,” Yeosang said, amused. “Sure looks like it.” Wooyoung winked at Jongho. “Yep, he’s pissed. Jealousy level: high.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jongho growled.

“Right,” Wooyoung said, grinning. “And I’m not handsome.”

Test 2: The Compliment Test

The next day, San decided to push Jongho’s buttons. During class, he loudly announced, “You know, YN is really something. She’s smart, funny, and have you seen her hair? Shiny like silk. I bet she smells amazing too.”

Jongho, who was sitting behind YN, audibly scoffed.

San turned around, feigning innocence. “What? You don’t agree, Jongho?”

“She’s… fine,” Jongho said flatly, avoiding everyone’s amused stares.

“Fine?” San repeated, pretending to be offended. “That’s all you’ve got? She’s perfect, and you know it.”

Jongho slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Shut up, San.”

Test 3: The Heartbeat Test

Seonghwa, ever the schemer, pulled out a fitness tracker with a heart rate monitor. “Okay, Jongho,” he said, strapping it onto his wrist. “Time to see how you react to her.”

“This is stupid,” Jongho grumbled, but he didn’t resist when Seonghwa placed the tracker on his wrist.

As YN walked into the room, Jongho’s heart rate spiked immediately. The boys stared at the tracker in silence before bursting into laughter.

“Calm down, lover boy,” Mingi teased. “You’re about to break the machine.”

Jongho yanked the tracker off, his face red. “It’s broken,” he insisted.

“Sure it is,” Yeosang said with a knowing smirk.

Test 4: The Accidental Touch

Mingi "accidentally" bumped YN into Jongho while they were walking down the hallway. She stumbled, her hand brushing against Jongho’s arm as he steadied her.

“You okay?” Jongho asked, his voice unusually soft.

“I’m fine, thanks,” YN replied, smiling politely before walking off.

The boys, watching from a distance, erupted into cheers.

“Did you see that?” Wooyoung howled. “He didn’t even yell at her!”

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I hate all of you.”

“Face it, man,” San said, clapping him on the back. “You’ve got it bad.”

Despite the teasing and their ridiculous tests, Jongho couldn’t shake the growing realization. No matter how much he denied it, his friends were right—YN had gotten under his skin, and there was no turning back.

YN paced back and forth in her dorm room, arms crossed and brows furrowed as she fumed. “What is their problem? Why can’t they just leave me alone?!” she practically yelled.

Hanni sat on the bed, nervously watching her friend explode. She held a notebook in her lap but had completely forgotten about it as she tried to calm YN down. “Okay, okay, breathe. Don’t let them get to you, YN. They’re just… being their usual chaotic selves.”

“No,” YN snapped, spinning around to face Hanni. “This isn’t just their usual chaos. They’re deliberately messing with me, and I’m done with it.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “What do they even want from me?!”

Hanni bit her lip. “I mean… maybe Jongho likes you?”

YN stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Hanni like she’d grown another head. “What? Jongho? Like me? Absolutely not.”

Hanni shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying! It’s not like he goes out of his way to mess with anyone else like this.”

YN groaned, pressing her palms to her temples. “Even if that were true, how does this make any sense? His friends are involved now too! They’re all acting like lunatics, and I’m losing my mind.”

Hanni got up, placing her hands on YN’s shoulders. “Okay, listen. You want peace, right?”

“Yes,” YN said through gritted teeth.

“Then confront them. March up to their table, call them out, and demand an answer. If Jongho or his friends don’t give you one, I’ll personally throw my coffee at Wooyoung.”

Despite her anger, YN couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “You’d really throw your coffee at Wooyoung?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hanni said with a grin. “I’d make it iced so it stings more.”

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Fine. Tomorrow, I’m confronting them. But if I don’t get a proper answer, they’d better be prepared.”

Hanni gave her a thumbs-up. “Now that’s the YN I know. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The next day, YN stormed into the cafeteria during lunch. The usual buzz of chatter filled the room, but she had her sights set on one table: Ateez’s.

Without hesitation, she marched over and slammed her hands on the table, startling them all. The entire cafeteria seemed to quiet down as people turned to watch.

“What do you want from me?!” YN demanded, her voice firm.

The boys exchanged glances, some smirking, some looking a bit guilty. Jongho, sitting at the center, raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” he asked calmly.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” YN snapped. “I know you’ve all been messing with me. Whatever weird little game this is, stop it. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, grinning. “She’s feisty. I like her.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned, giving him a look.

“Look,” YN continued, glaring at Jongho specifically, “I don’t care what your problem is. If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

Jongho leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met her gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was low and steady. “Maybe I do have something to say.”

The tension was thick as YN folded her arms, her heart racing despite her anger. “Then say it.”

For a moment, it seemed like Jongho might actually confess something, but instead, he leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Not here. Later.”

YN rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, turning on her heel to leave.

Behind her, the boys chuckled, but Jongho remained quiet, his smirk fading as he watched her walk away.

The lecture droned on, the professor’s voice blending into the background as YN’s attention started to waver. She rested her chin on her hand, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk. Her focus drifted from the lesson, and she casually let her gaze wander around the classroom, trying to keep herself awake.

It was an innocent habit. A quick scan of the room, her eyes briefly passing over her classmates. But when her gaze landed on Jongho, she froze.

He was already looking at her.

It wasn’t just a passing glance or idle staring. His eyes were locked onto her with an intensity that felt borderline magnetic. His dark brown eyes were sharp, unwavering, and inexplicably powerful. It was like he wasn’t just looking at her—he was seeing straight through her.

YN’s breath hitched for a moment. Her stomach churned with unease, but at the same time, something unfamiliar twisted deep within her. She hated to admit it, but he looked… ridiculously attractive. His expression was calm but unreadable, his jawline accentuated by the way he tilted his head slightly.

Why does he look like that? she thought, trying to keep her composure. And why can’t I stop looking at him?

It reminded her of that night at the red light stop—the same piercing gaze through the black helmet. But this time, it felt more personal. There was no helmet to mask his features, no physical barrier between them. Just those impossibly striking eyes.

She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming despite herself. Get it together, YN. It’s just Jongho.

But her heart wasn’t cooperating. It beat just a little faster than usual, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of his stare lingering even after she looked away.

Unbeknownst to her, Jongho smirked faintly. He had caught the way her face changed, the subtle way her lips parted in surprise before she turned away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel victorious.

Interesting, he thought, leaning back in his chair. So she’s not entirely unaffected after all.

Jongho was never the kind of person to overthink emotions. He dealt with things as they came, approaching life with confidence and logic. But when it came to YN, logic didn’t seem to work anymore. Every time he saw her, his feelings became more chaotic, more confusing, and undeniably more prominent. While he couldn’t fully grasp what he felt, his actions started to show it, whether he intended them to or not.

YN was seated in her usual spot, scribbling notes furiously as the professor explained a particularly complex topic. Jongho sat a few rows behind her, his eyes drifting toward her more often than his notebook.

The class was halfway through when the professor announced a quick pop quiz. Everyone groaned, including YN, who had just run out of ink in her pen.

“Great timing,” she muttered under her breath, shaking the pen in frustration. She rummaged through her pencil case, but it was clear she didn’t have a spare.

Jongho noticed immediately. He reached into his bag, pulling out an extra pen without hesitation. Instead of handing it over himself, he nudged the guy sitting next to him, gesturing toward YN.

“Pass this to her,” Jongho said, his voice low.

The pen made its way to YN, who blinked in surprise when it landed on her desk. She glanced over her shoulder to see who it came from, her eyes landing on Jongho. He didn’t say anything, just met her gaze briefly before looking away, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Thanks,” she whispered, though he didn’t acknowledge it.

It was a small gesture, but it left YN feeling oddly unsettled. For someone who usually went out of his way to annoy her, the act of kindness felt strange—almost deliberate.

YN sat at her usual corner table, flipping through a thick reference book for an upcoming assignment. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice Jongho entering the library until he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

She looked up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying,” he said simply, pulling out his notebook.

She frowned. “There are plenty of other tables.”

“This one’s fine,” he replied, not looking at her as he started writing.

YN sighed, deciding to ignore him and focus on her own work. But as the minutes ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice him stealing glances at her. She tried to brush it off, thinking it was her imagination, until she reached for her coffee cup and accidentally knocked it over.

“Crap,” she muttered, quickly grabbing a tissue from her bag to clean up the spill.

Before she could fully manage, Jongho slid his notebook aside, pulling out a small packet of tissues from his jacket pocket. He handed it to her without a word.

YN paused, staring at him. “You carry tissues around?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “You never know when someone’s going to be clumsy.”

She rolled her eyes but took the tissues. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jongho smirked faintly but said nothing, leaning back in his chair as she cleaned up the mess.

As she continued working, YN couldn’t help but feel his presence more than usual. There was something different about him lately—something softer. And though she hated to admit it, it was starting to mess with her head.

Jongho, on the other hand, was quietly observing her, trying to figure out why watching her focus so intently on her work made him feel strangely… content.

It was one of those days where the world seemed to be falling apart for YN. She sat in the library, her head buried in her arms, tears streaming silently down her face. Her phone lay on the table next to her, the call from her mother still echoing in her mind. Her dad had suffered a stroke. The news had hit her like a freight train, and the helplessness of not being able to reach him was eating her alive.

She had tried everything—calling for train tickets, searching for buses, and even looking into flights—but nothing seemed to work. The distance to her hometown suddenly felt insurmountable, and it left her feeling trapped and powerless.

Hanni sat beside her, her own heart breaking at the sight of her best friend in such despair. She had never seen YN like this—so vulnerable, so broken. Hanni tried to console her, rubbing her back gently, but she knew words wouldn’t fix this.

“You need to go to him,” Hanni said softly.

“I can’t,” YN choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s no way to get there.”

Hanni clenched her fists, her mind racing. If no one else could help, then there was only one person who could. She didn’t hesitate. Standing up, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the library, leaving YN behind.

Jongho and his friends were lounging in their usual spot outside the gym, the air filled with their loud chatter and occasional bursts of laughter. Mingi was tossing a football back and forth with San, while Wooyoung was busy showing off some absurd new trick with a deck of cards. Hongjoong leaned against a bench, scrolling through his phone, while Jongho sat quietly, sipping on his protein shake, his usual stoic presence anchoring the group.

The peace was shattered when Hanni stormed into the scene, her expression a mix of frustration and desperation. The group turned to her, their conversations dying mid-sentence.

“What’s this?” Wooyoung smirked, tossing the cards onto the table. “The library queen has graced us with her presence?”

Hanni ignored him completely, her eyes locking onto Jongho. “I need to talk to you.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, setting down his drink. “What is it?”

“It’s YN,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Her dad had a stroke, and she needs to get home, but there are no tickets available. She’s stuck, and she’s losing it. You have a bike. You can take her.”

The guys exchanged glances, the playful atmosphere immediately shifting into something more serious.

“And why do you think he should do it?” San asked, crossing his arms.

“Because he’s the only one who can!” Hanni snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. “I wouldn’t trust you to get her there safely. Jongho can handle it.”

Jongho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why me?”

“Because,” Hanni said, her voice softening, “for all your stupid games and ego battles, I know you care about her.”

The group went silent, all eyes on Jongho. He didn’t say anything at first, his jaw clenching slightly as he processed her words. Then, without a word, he stood up, grabbing his bag from the bench.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“The library,” Hanni said quickly.

“Alright,” he muttered, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

His friends watched as he started walking off, a mix of surprise and curiosity on their faces.

“Wait,” Wooyoung called out, smirking. “Is this your knight-in-shining-armor moment, Jongho? Should we start calling you Prince Charming now?”

“Shut up,” Jongho shot back, but there was no real heat in his tone.

As Hanni led him toward the library, she couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, there was a determined look in his eyes that gave her hope. Maybe, just maybe, YN had someone who would always be there when it truly mattered.

The library was eerily quiet as Hanni and Jongho stepped inside, the soft sound of turning pages and the occasional rustle of papers filling the air. Hanni led the way to the corner where YN was sitting, her head buried in her arms, silent tears streaming down her face.

Jongho’s jaw tightened at the sight. He didn’t hesitate. Striding up to her, he stopped just a step away and cleared his throat.

“YN,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She blinked up at him, confusion crossing her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“I’m taking you home,” he said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Get your stuff and pack a bag. We’re leaving now.”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned by his words. Normally, she would’ve protested or argued back, but she was too emotionally drained to put up a fight. Instead, she just nodded, her movements slow and robotic as she stood and grabbed her bag.

Hanni watched the exchange with a mix of relief and curiosity. She had never seen Jongho so direct, so...caring, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Thank you,” Hanni whispered to Jongho as YN gathered her things.

He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on YN the entire time. Once she was ready, he turned on his heel and led the way out of the library, his stride confident.

The ride was quiet, the hum of the bike engine filling the silence as they sped down the highway. YN sat behind Jongho, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the cool night air whipped past them.

Jongho didn’t say a word, but he drove with an intensity that YN couldn’t ignore. Despite everything—the teasing, the bickering, the games—she felt a strange sense of safety in that moment.

She rested her head lightly against his back, her tears drying as the rhythm of the bike soothed her nerves. She didn’t know what to say, and for once, she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Jongho, on the other hand, was acutely aware of her presence. Her warmth against his back, the way her arms tightened around him every time they turned a corner—it was all making his thoughts spiral. He didn’t understand why he felt so protective of her, why her tears had struck such a chord with him.

But one thing was certain: he would do whatever it took to get her home, no questions asked.

As they entered the hospital, the smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the muffled sounds of machines and quiet conversations. YN wasted no time running toward the general ward, her heart pounding as she navigated the maze of hallways. Jongho followed closely behind, her bag slung over his shoulder, his usually calm expression now tinged with concern.

When she finally reached the ward, her heart sank. Her father was lying on a general bed, his face pale and drawn, wires and monitors attached to him. Her mother sat by his side, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, exhaustion etched into her features.

“Mom,” YN called, her voice trembling as she approached. “What’s going on? Why is he here? Why isn’t he in a proper room?”

Her mother looked up, her tired eyes meeting YN’s. “The hospital is full, sweetheart,” she said, her voice heavy. “There aren’t any rooms available right now. This was the only space they had.”

YN clenched her fists, her heart breaking at the sight of her father in such a crowded and uncomfortable setting. She looked around, taking in the other patients crammed into the small ward, the lack of privacy, and the impersonal atmosphere.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “He needs proper care.”

Just as the air in the room grew heavier with worry, a nurse approached them, her voice soft but clear.

“Excuse me,” she said, looking at YN’s mother. “A private room has just been arranged for your husband. We’ll move him there shortly.”

YN blinked, her mind racing with confusion. She looked at her mother, who appeared equally surprised, and then back at the nurse.

“Wait, what?” YN asked, standing up abruptly. “How did that happen? Who...who arranged it?”

The nurse didn't say anything, YN was shocked, glancing at Jongho, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Someone already covered the charges,” the nurse said quietly.

YN’s gaze snapped to Jongho, her heart sinking and racing all at once. She stared at him, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief, confusion, and something she couldn’t quite name.

“You...you paid for it?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Jongho shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “It’s no big deal,” he said, his tone casual. “Your dad needed a proper room, and you didn’t have time to deal with all the red tape. That’s all.”

“No big deal?” YN repeated, her voice rising. She took a step closer to him, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Jongho, private rooms in a hospital cost a fortune! You can’t just—why would you even—”

He finally looked at her then, his gaze steady but tinged with something soft, something almost vulnerable. “Because you needed it,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, YN couldn’t speak. Her throat felt tight, and she wasn’t sure if it was from gratitude, anger, or something else entirely. She glanced at her mother, who was watching them with a knowing look, and then back at Jongho.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

“I wanted to,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The nurse cleared her throat gently, breaking the tension. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make sure everything is ready for the transfer,” she said before walking away.

YN stood there, her emotions a whirlwind. She wanted to thank him, to argue with him, to understand why he would do something so selfless after everything they’d been through. But instead, she just nodded, her voice trembling as she said, “Thank you, Jongho. Really.”

He gave her a small nod, his stoic facade firmly in place. But as she turned back to her father, he allowed himself a brief moment to watch her, his chest tightening with an emotion he was finally starting to understand.

The hospital lobby was quiet except for the occasional announcements over the intercom. YN sat on one of the plastic chairs, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. Jongho sat beside her, his legs stretched out, arms crossed, silent as ever. The check-up was still ongoing, and the wait felt endless.

She didn’t know why, but the weight in her chest felt unbearable. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the emotions swirling in her head. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, someone was sitting beside her, just… there. No judgment. No empty words of comfort. Just Jongho, quiet and solid.

Without really thinking, she spoke. “My dad is an alcoholic.”

Jongho turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything. He just listened.

“He wasn’t always like this,” she continued, her fingers clenching the fabric of her hoodie. “He used to be a good dad. He worked hard, took care of us, made stupid dad jokes. But then… something changed.”

Jongho didn’t ask what. He let her talk.

“He started drinking. At first, it was just a little. Stress, he said. Just a way to unwind. But then it got worse. He started losing jobs, coming home late, spending money we didn’t have. And the worst part was…” She swallowed. “He got angry. All the time. At everything.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t interrupt.

“He never hit us,” she clarified, her voice quieter now. “But the words… sometimes they cut deeper. The yelling, the accusations, the way he would just explode over the smallest things. My mom tried to handle it, but it wore her down. And me? I—I couldn’t stay. I had to get out. That’s why I left. That’s why I stay in dorms or anywhere but home.”

Jongho exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice lower than usual, he finally spoke.

“That’s why you never go back.”

YN blinked, turning to look at him. His face was calm, but there was an edge to his voice. Like he understood more than he let on.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy, filled with things unsaid.

Then, Jongho shifted, resting his arms on his knees as he stared ahead. “Must’ve been hard.”

YN let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well. Life’s not exactly a fairy tale.”

He glanced at her, his gaze softer than usual. “No. It’s not.”

Another silence. This time, it felt… different.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “You’re stronger than you think, you know that?”

YN turned to him sharply, caught off guard. “What?”

Jongho shrugged, looking away. “I’m just saying. You left. You got out. You built something for yourself instead of letting it trap you. That takes guts.”

YN didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t used to people saying things like this to her—especially not Jongho of all people.

Jongho leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. He rubbed his hands together, as if debating whether to speak or not. YN was still staring at him, her eyes searching, waiting.

“I guess… it’s only fair if I tell you something too,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual.

YN didn’t push. She just nodded, silently telling him to continue.

“My parents,” he started, pausing for a second. “They never really cared about me.”

That caught her off guard. She had always imagined him coming from a well-off family, considering the way he carried himself, the expensive apartment, the confidence.

“They weren’t bad people,” he continued, staring at the floor. “They just… weren’t really parents. Their world was business, money, social status. I was more like a project than a kid. Something to mold into their perfect successor.” He scoffed. “But I wasn’t interested in any of that.”

YN stayed quiet, letting him talk at his own pace.

“I grew up in empty houses. Big, expensive places with no warmth. I had tutors, trainers, all that. But never them.” He clenched his jaw. “They were always too busy. Too far away. And when they were around, it was all about expectations. I had to be the best. Had to be strong. Had to be exactly what they wanted. If I wasn’t, I wasn’t worth their time.”

YN felt a strange tightness in her chest. She had never heard him talk like this before.

“But my friends?” He huffed a small laugh. “They’re my real family. They were the ones who actually cared. Looked out for me. Picked fights for me when I was pissed off. Made sure I ate when I was too stubborn to admit I was hungry. Taught me how to survive outside of what my parents wanted me to be.”

He glanced at her, his expression softer now. “That’s why I’m the way I am. Why I fight, why I stick with them no matter what. They’re all I’ve got.”

Silence settled between them again, heavy but not uncomfortable.

YN finally spoke, her voice gentle. “You’re lucky, you know?”

Jongho raised a brow. “Lucky?”

She nodded. “You found people who care about you. Even if it’s not in the way you expected.”

Jongho stared at her for a long moment, then smirked slightly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

She didn’t say anything, just gave him a small smile in return. And for the first time since they’d met, they weren’t rivals, weren’t enemies. Just two people, sitting in a hospital lobby, understanding each other in a way no one else ever had.

For a moment, neither of them moved. YN had acted without thinking, driven by the strange warmth in her chest. She had never hugged him before—never even considered it. But right now, it just felt right.

Jongho stiffened, caught off guard. It's not like he was not hugged before, wooyoung and san always hug him, but this was different.

It was YN.

She held onto him tightly, her face buried in his shoulder, gripping his hoodie like she was afraid he’d disappear. She didn’t say anything, didn’t explain. She just stayed there, holding him like she needed him.

And what she didn’t know was that Jongho needed it just as much.

Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. His arms moved on their own, wrapping around her waist, holding her just as tightly.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

For once, there was no competition, no rivalry, no mind games. Just them.

Jongho closed his eyes, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. He didn’t understand his feelings completely, but he knew one thing.

He didn’t want to let go.

Jongho had never felt this out of place before. Hospitals weren’t his thing—too quiet, too sterile, too full of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with. But YN had dragged him inside, refusing to let him just stand outside like some outsider.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can just stand in the doorway,” she had said.

And that’s exactly what he did. Arms crossed, leaning against the frame, watching silently as YN sat beside her father’s bed, her mother beside her.

Her father was awake now, looking tired but stable. He still had that roughness to him, even as he weakly talked to YN, but it was clear he wasn’t the same man she had once feared.

Jongho didn’t say much, didn’t interfere, but YN’s mother noticed him. She had been watching him carefully, taking in his presence, the way he lingered like a silent guardian.

Then, with a warm but firm voice, she said, “You should come to dinner at our house.”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

“My daughter wouldn’t have made it here without you,” her mother continued. “Let me properly thank you.”

Jongho hesitated. Dinner? With YN’s family? That was… new. He wasn’t used to things like that.

“I don’t—” He started to refuse, but then he saw it.

The way YN was looking at him.

She wasn’t saying anything, but her expression said everything. She wanted him to say yes.

And damn it, if there was one person who could make him agree to things he normally wouldn’t… It was her.

“…Fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

YN smiled. And Jongho, despite himself, felt a little warmer inside.

Jongho had never really thought about how YN lived. He knew she stayed in the dorms, but seeing her actual home was… different.

The house wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t big enough for three people to live comfortably either. There was only one bedroom, and judging by the way her mother moved around the space so naturally, it was clear that privacy wasn’t really a thing here.

As they paced around the room, Jongho’s sharp eyes caught every little detail—the slightly worn-out furniture, the faint scent of home-cooked meals, the single bed pushed against the wall, the small study desk that was clearly YN’s. She didn’t even have her own room.

He didn’t say anything, but YN must have caught the way he was observing everything because she suddenly crossed her arms and looked up at him.

“I know it’s not as big as your fancy apartment,” she said, a teasing edge to her voice, “but you’ll have to adjust.”

Jongho scoffed, shaking his head. “You think I care about that?”

YN blinked. “Don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who has to live here. I’m just visiting.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you wouldn’t survive in a smaller home?”

Jongho leaned against the wall, smirking. “I’m saying you clearly think too much about what I think.”

YN opened her mouth, ready to argue, but before she could say anything, her mother called from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready!”

The conversation was left hanging, but Jongho didn’t miss the way YN shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and walking towards the dining table.

He shook his head, suppressing a small smile as he followed her.

Dinner was… different. Not in a bad way. Just different.

Jongho had expected it to be awkward. Maybe some polite conversation, a few “thank yous,” and then he’d be on his way. But YN’s mother? She was nothing like he expected.

From the moment they sat down, she treated him like he was one of her own.

“Eat more, Jongho. You need to keep up that strength, right?” she said, piling more food onto his plate before he could even respond.

Jongho blinked. “Uh—yeah, I guess.”

YN stifled a laugh as she watched her mother practically adopt him on the spot.

“You must work out a lot,” her mother continued, eyeing his broad frame. “No wonder you’re so strong! You know, YN never brings home any friends. I was starting to think she didn’t have any.”

“Mom!” YN groaned, her face heating up.

Jongho smirked, looking at YN. “Yeah? I’m the first?”

“She never even talks about anyone,” her mother added. “But I can tell she trusts you.”

YN glared at her mom like she just exposed a national secret, while Jongho simply took a bite of his food, feeling… warm.

The conversation flowed so naturally. Her mother asked him about his studies, his life, if he was eating properly, even scolding him a little when he admitted he mostly ordered takeout. She fussed over him in a way no one ever had before.

It was strange. It was new.

But it felt… nice.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt like he had a place at a family dinner. Not just as a guest, but as someone who belonged.

YN noticed. She watched the way Jongho let his guard down, how he actually smiled—a real one, not his usual cocky smirk. It made her feel happy.

He deserved this.

He deserved to feel this warmth.

After dinner, YN grabbed the trash bags and headed outside, leaving Jongho alone with her mother to clean up.

Jongho wasn’t used to doing dishes with anyone—he usually ate alone or with his friends, where everything was chaotic and someone else always handled the cleaning. But standing here, washing dishes beside YN’s mother, it felt… peaceful.

As they worked in comfortable silence, her mother suddenly spoke.

“She didn’t have a great childhood, you know.”

Jongho paused, glancing at her. He had already known that from what YN told him at the hospital, but hearing it from her mother hit differently.

She let out a soft sigh, scrubbing a plate. “I did my best, but… I still feel like I failed her.”

Jongho didn’t know what to say to that. He had never really thought about parents blaming themselves before. His own never did.

“I just want her to be happy,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “She pretends she’s strong, but she’s been through a lot.”

Jongho set down the dish he was holding, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “As long as I’m here, she will be happy.”

Her mother looked up at him, studying his expression. Then, she smiled—soft and knowing.

“I believe you.”

It had been a month since that night at YN’s home, and things between her and Jongho had… changed.

They weren’t enemies. They weren’t exactly friends either. But they had fallen into a routine—one that felt strangely domestic.

Jongho would casually grab an extra coffee for her in the mornings, placing it on her desk with a simple, “You looked half-dead, don’t read too much into it.”

YN, in return, would remind him to eat properly, sometimes even handing him snacks with a nonchalant, “I don’t want you fainting in the gym or something. That’d be embarrassing.”

They walked to class together, studied together, and even sat next to each other during lectures. If Jongho wasn’t around, people would ask YN where he was. And if YN was late, Jongho would just roll his eyes but keep the seat next to him open.

They bickered over stupid things.

“Why are you staring at me?” YN asked one day, feeling his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally were.”

“I was just zoning out,” Jongho huffed, looking away.

Or when YN handed him an umbrella on a rainy day.

“Here,” she said, shoving it into his hands.

Jongho frowned. “I don’t need it.”

“Then get soaked. Not my problem.”

“Then why’d you bring me one?”

“You're too noisy. Shut up and take it.”

They acted like they were just tolerating each other, but everyone else saw the truth.

They were basically a couple.

Just two idiots too stubborn to admit it.

YN felt… different.

It wasn’t something she could explain easily, but it was there—a strange pull toward Jongho. Like a force of nature she had no control over.

And, of course, Hanni wouldn’t shut up about it.

“You’re in love,” Hanni declared one day, arms crossed as if she had just solved the biggest mystery of the century.

YN, horrified, immediately shut her down. “Shut up. No, I’m not.”

“Oh, really?” Hanni smirked. “Then why do you always look out for him?”

“I just—he’s stupid sometimes, I need to make sure he doesn’t die.”

“And why do you get sad when you don’t see him?”

“That’s… that’s normal! I see him all the time, it’s weird when he’s not there.”

“And why do you get weird feelings when you’re together?”

YN froze.

Because that was true.

She did feel weird things when they were together—like her heart deciding to sprint for no reason, or how she found herself staring at him longer than necessary. She noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his voice was deeper when he was tired, and how his hands were always warm even when it was freezing outside.

Oh no.

Hanni grinned, seeing the realization dawn on YN’s face. “Yeah. You’re so in love it’s embarrassing.”

YN groaned, covering her face. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Jongho was losing his mind.

It started subtly—little things he noticed during their daily interactions. Like how small her hands were compared to his when she shoved a snack into his palm. Or how short she was, always tilting her head up to glare at him when they bickered.

And then it got worse.

One day, she was rambling about something, waving her hands dramatically, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to squish her cheeks.

Another time, she got mad at him over something stupid—probably about stealing her drink—and the way her nose scrunched up made his fingers twitch. She looked like an angry little kitten, and he… he was the big bear who wanted to scoop her up and keep her in his arms.

“Are you even listening?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

No. No, he wasn’t.

Because his brain was too busy fighting the cuteness aggression building up inside him.

So instead of answering, he just reached out and flicked her forehead.

“Hey!” she whined, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

Jongho smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. Just felt like it.”

If only she knew it was to stop himself from doing something even worse. Like pinching her cheeks until she smacked him.

He was doomed.

Like when they had gone out for ice cream, and YN, being herself, had managed to make a mess.

She was eating too quickly, and suddenly, a small drop of melted ice cream landed on the tip of her nose.

Jongho stared.

She blinked up at him, confused. “What?”

His grip on his cone tightened.

Was she real? Was this actually happening? Was she actually standing there, looking up at him with big eyes, ice cream on her nose, completely unaware of how devastatingly cute she was?

He exhaled sharply, leaned in, and—

Flick!

She yelped as he wiped the ice cream off with his thumb, scowling at her. “You’re a mess.”

She pouted. “You could’ve just told me.”

Yeah, well, if he had told her, he would’ve also had to admit that he was two seconds away from pinching her cheeks and calling her cute.

So no, thanks.

Or like when YN had forgotten her hair tie, so she dug into her bag and pulled out a tiny, pastel pink hair clip.

Jongho watched as she struggled to keep her hair out of her face with that.

The tiny clip was fighting for its life against her hair, barely holding anything in place. She kept adjusting it, pushing stray strands away with a frustrated huff.

Jongho’s jaw clenched.

It was too much.

The stupid little hair clip, her pouty concentration face, the way she kept huffing when the strands fell back—

Before he could stop himself, he reached out, plucked the clip from her hair, and smoothly tied it up with his own black hair tie which he conveniently had on his wrist.

She blinked at him. “...Oh.”

He crossed his arms. “There. Now you won’t look dumb.”

Her lips parted in offense. “Excuse you! My clip was working just fine—”

Jongho just flicked her forehead again and walked off before she could see the stupid grin threatening to break out on his face.

She was going to kill him one day.

Or worse—he was going to fall harder.

Jongho had always paid attention to the little things. It was something he’d always done, but now it was a bit more… personal.

The way YN would subtly try to avoid the topic of her birthday when it came up, how she’d always change the subject or even just shut it down completely. He never understood it until he saw it written in the corner of her notebook one day, almost as if it was an afterthought—her birthday was coming up.

Something about that made him pause.

He couldn’t help but wonder why she never celebrated it, why she never talked about it. It bothered him more than he realized. No one should feel like that about their birthday. It was supposed to be a day to feel special, to be loved.

But for YN… it didn’t seem that way at all.

YN stepped into Jongho's apartment, not knowing why he suddenly called her, but what she saw made her stop in her tracks. The entire place was decorated—soft, pastel colors, fairy lights hanging delicately from the walls, and small touches of things she liked scattered around the room. It felt like a scene straight out of one of those Pinterest boards she had secretly admired but never thought she'd experience herself.

On the table was a small cake, decorated with cream and flowers—exactly the way she liked it. But what really caught her eye was the little crown placed beside it.

Jongho stood by the door, hands in his pockets, nervously watching her reaction. His heart pounded as he waited for her to say something.

"Jongho..." YN started, her voice barely above a whisper as she took in the effort he’d put into everything. "What is all this?"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed now that she was actually here. "Well... I know you don't like big celebrations, but I thought you'd like something a little special, you know? Something just for you."

She blinked, stunned. "But... this is all for me?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's your birthday, right?" Jongho said casually, though there was a small, nervous grin tugging at his lips.

YN couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her own. She looked around, noticing the little details—soft cushions, a few of her favorite books stacked neatly on the shelf, the little crown, and the cake that seemed to have her name written all over it.

"Why the crown?" she asked, half-laughing, half-teary-eyed.

Jongho shrugged, a little embarrassed. "You deserve to feel like a queen today. No one should ever feel like they don't deserve to be celebrated."

That did it. YN's heart swelled, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. The thoughtfulness behind everything hit her hard. Her birthday had always been a quiet, unnoticed day, but here Jongho was, treating her like she was the most important person in the world.

He stepped forward, holding out the little crown. "Here, your majesty."

YN laughed softly, taking it from his hands and placing it on her head, feeling a warmth in her chest she hadn't expected. "This is... this is too much," she whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"You deserve it," Jongho said, his voice low but warm, his eyes locking with hers in that moment. "Happy Birthday, YN."

Her heart skipped a beat, her emotions rushing to the surface. "Thank you," she whispered back, her voice cracking slightly. She looked at him, her gratitude overflowing. "Thank you for seeing me."

Jongho stepped a little closer, the two of them standing there amidst the cozy decorations, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a warm hue on their faces.

"You’re welcome," he said simply, then took a step back, a playful grin appearing on his face. "Now, let’s eat this cake before I eat all of it myself."

YN laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time, her heart full of warmth from the little moments that had made this birthday unforgettable. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this special—this loved.

Jongho had done it. He had turned her quiet day into a celebration of everything she had ever wanted.

After cutting the cake and sharing a few playful bites, Jongho leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, birthday girl, close your eyes."

YN raised an eyebrow, suspicious but amused. "Why?"

"Just do it," he said, rolling his eyes but still holding that teasing grin.

With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, sitting still as she waited. She could hear him moving around the room, the sound of rustling paper and something being set down on the table in front of her.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice a little softer than before. "You can open them now."

YN opened her eyes—and immediately, her breath hitched.

In front of her was something she never expected but instantly adored—a bouquet of books, beautifully wrapped in soft-colored paper with a ribbon tied neatly around them. Not just any books, but ones she had casually mentioned wanting to read, ones she had stared at in the library but never picked up, ones that he must have noticed her lingering over.

She blinked rapidly, her fingers tracing over the spines as if making sure they were real. "Jongho… you—"

"You like them?" he asked, voice steady but eyes betraying a hint of nervousness.

YN couldn't speak. The warmth in her chest was overwhelming, emotions bubbling up faster than she could control. Instead of answering, she got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

Jongho stiffened for a second, but then, slowly, he relaxed into the hug, his arms coming around her just as tightly.

"You idiot," she mumbled against his hoodie, voice muffled but full of emotion. "This is the best gift ever."

Jongho let out a small chuckle, resting his chin lightly on her head. "Good," he said, a smile forming on his lips. "Because I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was lame."

YN shook her head against him, gripping onto his hoodie tighter. "It's not. It’s perfect."

And for a while, they just stayed like that, wrapped up in warmth and something unspoken between them—something soft, something real. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew.

They were falling, and this time, neither of them wanted to stop.

Jongho felt his heart race when he saw the small blush creeping up her cheeks, her eyes glistening with emotion as they met his. Her gaze lingered, vulnerable yet trusting, and something inside him clicked. All the words he'd been holding back, all the feelings he couldn't quite define-they came rushing forward.

Before he could even think, he cupped her face gently with his hands, tilting her chin up just slightly. She didn't pull away, her breath hitching as she stared at him, her lips parted slightly in confusion.

Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. His heart pounded in his chest as the moment stretched between them-gentle, slow, and full of everything they had been holding back.

YN's breath caught as she froze for a moment, her mind catching up with what was happening. But then, instinctively, she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his chest.

The world around them seemed to disappear as everything fell quiet, just the warmth of their bodies and the undeniable pull between them. Jongho's hand slid to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, and YN's fingers clenched slightly around his hoodie, her heart thumping in her chest.When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Jongho looked down at her, his thumb brushing her cheek as he caught his breath.

"YN," he whispered, his voice rough, "I... I don't know what this is, but I can't stop thinking about you."

YN's heart fluttered at his words, her cheeks still flushed. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, the way his hands were slightly trembling as they stayed gently on her face.

"I think I feel the same," she whispered back, her voice just above a breathless murmur.

His hands were still cradling her face as if she were something fragile—something precious. His usual sharp gaze was softer now, almost uncertain, but there was something firm in the way he held her.

“I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like,” he admitted, his voice low and honest. “But I know that when you’re not around, I don’t like it. And when you are, I feel… lighter. Like I actually want to be better.”

YN’s heart pounded against her ribs, her breath catching at his words.

“I want to stay with you,” he continued, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “If this is what love is, then let it be.”

Her eyes widened slightly, emotions swirling inside her. He was never the type to say things without meaning them, never the type to hesitate. And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, vulnerable and real.

She felt warmth bloom in her chest, something overwhelming yet comforting. Her hands slowly reached up, resting over his.

“Then let it be,” she whispered back, her lips curling into the softest of smiles.

Jongho exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath this whole time. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a second, just taking in the moment.

Neither of them needed to say anything more. They had already said everything that mattered.

After his confession, YN quickly realized one thing—Jongho was insanely clingy. Not in the physical sense, no. He wasn’t the type to smother her with hugs in public or demand constant attention. But mentally? Emotionally? He was all over her.

Her phone never knew peace.

Jongho: Where are you?

Jongho: Why aren’t you answering?

Jongho: You’re not dead, right?

Jongho: Hanni said you left the library 15 minutes ago. Where are you now?

And if she didn’t respond fast enough? Oh, he’d find a way. One time, he literally called Hanni when YN ignored his messages during a movie marathon.

“You’re ignoring my texts,” he accused when she finally picked up.

“I was watching a movie,” she sighed.

“Oh,” he paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because… it’s a movie?”

“Tell me next time.”

YN groaned, but deep down, she found it cute—annoying, but cute.

Another time, she was just grabbing a coffee on campus, and before she could even sit down, she received a message:

Jongho: You didn’t tell me you were going to the café.

She blinked. Looked around. And there he was, sitting at a distance, sipping his own drink while watching her like a hawk.

She marched up to him. “Are you spying on me?”

He raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. “I was here first. You should’ve told me you were coming.”

YN threw her hands up. “I didn’t know I needed permission to get coffee!”

“You don’t,” he said smoothly, “but if you told me, I would’ve gotten your order ready.”

And the worst part? He actually did. Because as she was about to go order, the barista handed her a drink. “Your boyfriend already paid for it.”

Jongho just shrugged at her bewildered expression, sipping his own coffee like nothing happened.

Yeah. He was absolutely clingy. But the way he looked after her, worried for her, cared for her in ways she didn’t even realize she needed?

She wouldn’t change it for the world.

You could never stay mad at him. No matter how much he annoyed you with his endless messages, his possessiveness, or his constant need to know where you were—one look at his big, boba-like eyes, and you were done for.

And he knew it.

That slight smile he had whenever he looked at you? It was because he knew you couldn’t resist him.

Whenever you pouted at him, complaining about how clingy he was, he’d just chuckle, pull you into one of his signature big bear hugs, and squeeze you tight. You always acted like you wanted to escape, but deep down, you never really tried.

And when you were alone? Oh, Jongho had no shame.

He’d squish your cheeks, stretching them like you were some kind of stress toy. “Why are you so cute, huh?” he’d mutter, poking at your puffed-up cheeks.

“Jongho, stop—”

Squish.

“Jongho!”

Squish.

And the moment you’d glare at him, trying to act serious, he’d just lean in and kiss you, completely ignoring your protests.

“Yah—”

Another kiss.

“Stop—”

Another.

And by the time you finally gave up, he’d smirk, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “You talk too much sometimes.”

But you couldn’t even be mad. Not when he was him. Your annoying, possessive, clingy, yet completely lovable Jongho.

Though you and Jongho never officially announced your relationship at college, he made it clear as day that he was yours—and that you were his.

And he had his ways of making sure everyone knew.

Jongho had always been intimidating, but after you two got together, his death glares became ten times worse. If a guy so much as looked at you for too long, Jongho would lock eyes with them from across the room. No words needed—just a single, cold stare, and the poor guy would scurry away like a frightened puppy.

Hanni once joked, "You don't need a security system, girl. Just let Jongho sit outside your dorm and scare people away."

Jongho wasn’t big on PDA, but when it came to making a statement, he had his own subtle ways. A hand on your lower back when guiding you through a crowd. A strong arm thrown over the back of your chair when another guy was getting too friendly. Holding onto the strap of your bag like it was a leash when you were walking together, just so he could keep you close.

The message was clear: Don’t even think about it.

His friends suffered the most. Jongho was always bringing you up in conversation, even when it wasn’t relevant.

“Jongho, pass me the notes.”

"YN already explained it to me. You should ask her—she’s smarter than all of us.”

"Jongho, do you want to come to the gym later?"

"Nah, I'm meeting YN. She gets grumpy if she doesn’t see me enough."

"Jongho, stop flexing your relationship, man—"

"I’m not flexing. I just have a girlfriend who happens to be better than yours."

“…None of us have girlfriends.”

"Exactly.”

The moment that really sealed it?

One day, some guy—clearly new to the college—had the audacity to flirt with you in the cafeteria. Nothing serious, just casual small talk.

Jongho, who had been sitting a few tables away, calmly stood up, strolled over, and without a word, took the spoon from your hand and ate your food from your spoon and even drank water from your cup.

You nearly choked.

The guy looked confused. Hanni was losing her mind in the background. Jongho? He just stared down at the poor guy, smirking slightly.

"Oh, were you saying something?" sitting down, he asked, his voice low and smooth, his arm resting on the back of your chair.

The guy got the message.

Jongho had never been the type to update his Instagram often. His feed was mostly filled with scenic shots—sunsets, cityscapes, the occasional black-and-white aesthetic post. He rarely posted selfies, let alone anything personal.

But now? Now his Instagram was practically a shrine dedicated to you.

It started subtly. A blurry candid of you sipping coffee at a café, captioned: “Not the coffee, just the person.”

Then came the next one—a picture of you reading in the library, chin resting on your palm, completely unaware of the photo being taken. “Genius girlfriend era.”

And then it became a habit.

— A mirror selfie of him at the gym… with you in the background, struggling with a dumbbell. “She’s trying.”

— A plate of food with your hands reaching for it. “I don’t get to eat in peace anymore.”

— A side-profile shot of you laughing. No caption. Just a red heart emoji.

Jongho wasn’t dumb. He knew there were girls lurking in his DMs, waiting for an opening. So he made sure they saw exactly why they had no chance.

Every post? Tagged @yn2001. Every story? Tagged @yn2001. Even in the comments, when someone asked, “Where’s this?”, he’d reply, “With @yn2001.”

Even his bio, which had previously been empty, now had:

“Taken. @yn2001.”

One day, he posted a picture of your intertwined hands, your fingers laced together on top of his lap. No faces, no explanation—just that.

And the caption?

"Mine.”

The DMs? Silent. The message? Loud and clear.

You were never the type to crave attention. Growing up, you had learned to blend into the background, to be self-sufficient. No one had ever really gone out of their way to make you feel special.

But Jongho? He changed everything.

The way he made it so obvious that you were his. How he walked beside you, making sure you were always safe. How his arm would find its way around your shoulders in crowded hallways. How he’d subtly block anyone who got too close.

The Instagram posts were one thing, but it was the little things that made you feel like a princess.

Like when he casually handed you his hoodie when you complained it was cold—without a word, just draping it over you like it was second nature. Or when he adjusted the straps of your bag because “It’s too loose, you’ll hurt your shoulder.”

Or how he always paid attention. If you so much as mentioned craving something, you’d find it mysteriously appearing in your dorm the next day. Kinder Joy? There. Your favorite drink? Waiting for you in class.

And the way he looked at you.

Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

For the first time in your life, you were someone’s priority. And you loved it.

The winter air was biting as you arrived at Jongho’s apartment for the night. He had asked you so politely—almost shyly—that you couldn’t say no.

After dinner, which you cooked while he hovered behind you like a baby bear, occasionally wrapping his arms around your waist or resting his chin on your shoulder, you both settled in for the night.

Jongho sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone while you went to do your skincare routine in the bathroom. You were halfway through when you felt his presence at the door.

"What are you even doing?" he asked, arms crossed as he watched you pat a serum onto your face.

"Skincare," you replied, giving him a pointed look.

He scoffed. "Looks like sorcery to me."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed an extra headband, walking over to him. "Sit."

He raised an eyebrow. "No way."

"You asked me to stay over. This is part of the deal," you said with a smirk.

With a grumble, he let you pull him onto the bathroom stool. You pushed back his hair with the headband, suppressing a giggle at how unexpectedly adorable he looked with it on.

"Don't laugh," he muttered, glaring.

"I'm not!"

You squeezed some cleanser onto your hands and started rubbing it into his face. He blinked rapidly at the sudden sensation, grabbing your wrist.

"What the hell—"

"Relax, big guy. Just let it happen."

He huffed, but let you continue. His face was surprisingly soft under your fingertips, and for a moment, you were lost in the closeness of it. Jongho, however, was glaring at his reflection.

"Feels weird," he grumbled.

You chuckled. "You’ll thank me later when your skin is glowing."

After washing off the cleanser, you moved on to toner and serum, explaining each step. Jongho just sat there, staring at you with those soft, unreadable eyes.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away.

But his ears were red.

By the time you finished with moisturizer, he was pouting. "Feels sticky."

You flicked his forehead. "Beauty is pain."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you when you applied lip balm on him, his lips parting slightly at the contact.

"All done," you declared, stepping back to admire your work.

Jongho looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his face slightly. "Huh… not bad."

"Told you."

He turned to you, a sly grin forming. "So if I have good skin now, does that mean I get more kisses?"

You gaped at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Jongho!"

But he was already pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into you.

"Thanks, princess," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

And just like that, your heart was gone.

You sighed, sitting on the edge of Jongho’s bed, your fingers idly playing with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. He had just finished brushing his teeth, stepping into the room with his usual confident ease. His damp hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp eyes softened when they landed on you.

He tilted his head, noticing your hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. “I sleep weird.”

Jongho blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “What do you mean weird?”

“I mean…” You sighed again, fidgeting with your hands. “I move a lot in my sleep. I might—” You glanced at him briefly before looking away. “I might throw my leg over you. Or shove my feet under yours. Or, you know, hug you.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

For a second, he just stared at you before a small, amused scoff left his lips. “That’s it? I thought you were about to say something serious.”

You frowned. “It is serious.”

He crossed his arms, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “What, you think I’m gonna throw you off the bed?”

“No, but—”

“You can do whatever you want. It won’t bother me.”

That was a lie. Jongho never liked being hugged in his sleep. He never liked people clinging to him or invading his space while he rested. It had always felt suffocating, and he never hesitated to shove someone off if they got too close.

But you? You were different.

So when you eventually curled up beside him, shifting in your sleep and unconsciously draping your arm over his waist, he didn’t push you away. When your leg tangled with his, searching for warmth, he let it be. And when, in your sleep, you tucked your cold feet under his, he only let out a small huff, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

What surprised him the most was the way he naturally responded. Without thinking, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking small circles into your skin through the fabric of your sweatshirt.

You sighed in content, unconsciously burrowing into his chest. Jongho glanced down at you, his lips twitching at the sight of you so comfortably nestled against him.

If it were anyone else, he would’ve been annoyed, but with you…

With you, he found himself pressing a lazy, almost absentminded kiss to your forehead before resting his chin atop your head.

Yeah. He loved this.

Divider from @/cafekitsune

[thequeenofneverland1]

Minho////Love in the Little Things

Anonymous request: hey can you a angst but a happy ending of Minho from xo kitty pls thank you

Warnings: fluff, humor, Romantic themes, lighthearted drama and mild jealousy

You’ve had a crush on Minho for as long as you can remember. He’s charming, funny, and always lights up the room when he walks in. But there’s just one problem. he only has eyes for Kitty. No matter how hard you try to get his attention, it’s clear that his heart belongs to someone else.

At first, you tried to ignore the ache in your chest every time you saw them together. You told yourself that maybe, just maybe, he would notice you one day. But as time passed, it became painfully obvious that Minho would never see you the way you saw him. And that realization shattered you.

You spent weeks sulking, avoiding him in the hallways, and dodging any conversation that involved his name. Your friends told you to move on, but how could you? He was Minho the one who made your heart race with just a smile.

Then, everything changed.

A new student transferred to your school Lee Joon. The moment he stepped into the classroom, he caught everyone’s attention. Tall, effortlessly cool, and with a confidence that made people gravitate toward him, he was impossible to ignore. But what surprised you the most was that, out of all the people he could have talked to, he chose you.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was just being nice. But the way he looked at you, the way he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, made your heart do something it hadn’t done in a long time it fluttered.

Days turned into weeks, and Lee Joon became a constant presence in your life. He made you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how. He noticed the little things about you how you always tapped your pen when you were nervous or how your favorite subject was literature because you loved stories that made you feel something.

And one day, as you were walking together after school, he stopped and looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “I think Minho was an idiot for not seeing you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

For the first time in a long while, Minho didn’t seem to matter anymore. Maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to move on. And with Lee Joon by your side, it didn’t seem so impossible.

It was a perfect afternoon warm sunlight streaming through the trees as you and Lee Joon sat on a bench near the school courtyard. You were laughing at something he said, a joke that wasn’t even that funny, but for some reason, everything seemed lighter around him. You didn’t feel the weight of unrequited love pressing on your chest anymore. With Lee Joon, it was easy, effortless.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the moment. You ignored it the first time. Then, it buzzed again. And again.

Lee Joon glanced at you. “Someone’s persistent.”

You pulled out your phone and glanced at the screen. Minho.

For a brief second, something in your chest tightened, but you quickly shook it off. What could he possibly want? Maybe he needed something, but whatever it was, it wasn’t urgent enough for you to pull away from this moment.

Without hesitation, you silenced the call and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

Lee Joon raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not gonna answer?”

You shrugged. “Not important.”

He smirked, leaning back against the bench. “Well, then, more of your attention for me.”

You laughed, pushing Minho further from your mind.

Little did you know, you had forgotten something important plans you made with Minho days ago.

Minho sat at the café, checking his phone every few minutes, frustration slowly turning into disappointment. You were supposed to meet him here. He even got there early, ordering your favorite drink just the way you liked it. But the minutes ticked by, and there was no sign of you.

At first, he thought maybe you were running late. Then, after the third unanswered call, he started to wonder.

Had you forgotten?

The thought made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand. You always showed up when he needed you, always answered his calls, always made time for him. But today… you didn’t.

His fingers tightened around his phone as he stared at your last message, confirming the plans. He had been so sure you’d come.

So why did it feel like, for the first time, he wasn’t the one you were waiting around for?

Minho sighed, tapping his fingers against the table as he stared at his phone screen. The message was still unread.

Minho: Hey, where are you? (Delivered, no response.)

He waited, watching the little “delivered” notification sit there, unmoving. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe your phone was on silent. Maybe—

No.

Something felt different.

Minho wasn’t used to waiting on you. If anything, you were always the one waiting for him waiting for his texts, his calls, his time. And now, for the first time, the roles were reversed. And he hated it.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair, gripping the iced coffee he had ordered for you now watered down from sitting too long. He should be annoyed. Maybe even a little angry. But the uneasy feeling in his chest wasn’t anger. It was something else.

He tried again.

Minho: Did you forget?

Still no response.

He stared at the message for a moment before locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. His jaw clenched as he glanced around the café, realizing that people were starting to stare at the guy sitting alone with two drinks.

It wasn’t like you to ghost him. Sure, maybe you were busy, but you would have at least texted back, right?

Unless… you really had forgotten.

Minho couldn’t take it anymore. The café, once filled with comforting warmth and the hum of conversation, now felt suffocating. He had been sitting there for nearly an hour, his untouched drink melting into a watered-down mess. You weren’t coming. And you weren’t answering.

Shoving his chair back, he stood up abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stormed out. His mind raced with thoughts, each one more frustrating than the last. Were you ignoring him on purpose? Had something happened? Or… were you just with someone else?

That thought made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t like.

As he walked down the sidewalk, his eyes were locked on his phone, waiting for any sign of a response. He wasn’t even paying attention to where he was going until—

Thud.

He bumped into someone, nearly making them drop the books in their arms.

“Oh—Minho?”

He looked up, recognizing the familiar face immediately. “Kitty.”

She adjusted her books, giving him a curious look. “What’s up? You look kind of… stressed.”

Minho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was supposed to meet Y/N, but she never showed up. She’s not answering my calls or texts either.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s weird.”

“Right?” Minho huffed. “I don’t get it. She’s never just… ignored me before.”

Kitty studied him for a second before casually saying, “Well, I literally just saw her.”

Minho’s head snapped up. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Kitty said, shifting her books to one arm. “She was with Lee Joon.”

The name hit Minho like a brick to the chest.

Lee Joon.

That new transfer student. The one who had suddenly appeared and, apparently, had stolen all of your attention.

Kitty must have noticed the shift in his expression because she tilted her head. “Why? Something wrong?”

Minho’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know what to say. Of course something was wrong. You were supposed to be with him today, not Lee Joon. You were supposed to answer his calls, not ignore them for someone else.

But why did it even matter so much? Why was he suddenly so bothered by the idea of you with someone else?

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay even. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

But as he turned away, he knew that was a lie. Something was definitely wrong. And for the first time, Minho wasn’t sure he liked the way it felt.

Minho lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying everything over and over again. The unanswered texts, the forgotten plans, Kitty’s words—“She was with Lee Joon.”

It didn’t make sense. You weren’t the type to flake on him, especially not without saying anything. And yet, here he was laying alone in his room when he was supposed to be…

The diner was bustling with the hum of conversations and the clinking of silverware against plates. Neon lights flickered outside the window, casting a soft glow over your booth. Minho sat across from you, Kitty next to him, but your attention was entirely elsewhere on Lee Joon, who sat beside you, smiling warmly as he slid a milkshake between the two of you.

"Two straws, one milkshake," Lee Joon teased with a playful grin. "Very old-school romance, don’t you think?"

You laughed, leaning closer to sip from your straw. "I think it’s perfect," you said, eyes sparkling as you met his gaze.

Minho's chest tightened as he watched the exchange, his words faltering mid-sentence. He had been talking about some random story from school, trying to keep the mood light, but it was clear you weren’t listening. Not even a little.

Kitty, sitting beside him, noticed the way his jaw clenched and the flicker of hurt in his eyes. She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "You okay?" she whispered.

Minho forced a tight smile. "Yeah. Totally fine."

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He tried to ignore the way your laugh filled the space between you and Lee Joon, the way you leaned into him as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was like he was invisible reduced to just another background character in a scene where you and Lee Joon were the main act.

"So, Y/n," Minho said, trying to cut through the tension gnawing at his chest, "did you finish that project for science class?"

You glanced at him briefly, a polite smile on your lips. "Oh, yeah. Lee Joon helped me with it. He’s really good at that stuff."

Lee Joon chuckled modestly. "It wasn’t a big deal. Y/n did most of the work."

Minho's stomach churned. He used to be the one you came to for help with assignments, the one who made you laugh over ridiculous study sessions. Now, it was Lee Joon in that role, effortlessly slipping into a space that had always been Minho's.

"Cool," Minho said flatly, stirring his untouched drink.

Kitty shot him a sympathetic glance, but Minho couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he watched as you leaned closer to Lee Joon, your conversation flowing effortlessly. The two of you were in your own world, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside Minho.

"Hey," Lee Joon said, his voice warm, "you’ve got whipped cream on your nose."

You laughed, wiping it away with the back of your hand. "Classic me."

"You’re adorable," Lee Joon said softly, and your cheeks flushed at the compliment.

Minho's grip tightened around his glass, his heart pounding with a mixture of jealousy and hurt. He didn’t want to feel this way, but seeing you with someone else so happy, so carefree was like a punch to the gut.

Kitty cleared her throat, trying to break the awkwardness. "So, uh, Minho, you were saying something about that crazy teacher?"

Minho forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Yeah, doesn’t matter," he muttered, his appetite gone.

As the evening dragged on, Minho sat there, watching the girl he had always thought of as his—his best friend, his constant slip further away, lost in someone else’s orbit. And for the first time, he wondered if it was already too late to pull you back.

Minho had always been the kind of person who carried himself with confidence. He was loud when he wanted to be, always cracking jokes, always had a smirk on his face like nothing in the world could bother him.

But lately, something had changed.

And his parents noticed.

It started with little things. He barely touched his food at dinner, pushing it around on his plate instead of eating. He wasn’t complaining about his mom’s overly healthy meals like he usually did. He didn’t argue with his dad over what to watch on TV. He wasn’t even making sarcastic remarks about his mom’s drama shows, something he usually did just to get a reaction.

Instead, he just… sat there. Quiet. Lost in thought.

Then, he stopped staying out late.

Minho was always out with his friends, always coming home late with some new story to tell. But now? He was coming straight home from school, shutting himself in his room, barely saying a word.

His mom noticed first.

One evening, as she was setting the table for dinner, she glanced over at him, watching as he scrolled through his phone, a deep frown etched onto his face. He wasn’t even really looking at the screen just staring at it, lost in whatever thoughts were eating away at him.

She set the last plate down and sighed. “Minho.”

He barely reacted. “Hmm?”

His mom crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

That got his attention. He looked up, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“You’ve been acting… off,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re quiet, you barely eat, you don’t go out as much. It’s like you’re not even you lately.”

Minho scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m fine.”

His dad, who had been reading the newspaper, finally looked up. “You don’t look fine.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize I had to put on a performance at home.”

His mom sighed, walking over to sit beside him. Her voice softened. “Minho, we’re just worried about you. Did something happen?”

Minho’s jaw tightened. He wanted to brush it off, to say something sarcastic, to make a joke and move on. That’s what he always did.

But for some reason, the words wouldn’t come out.

Because, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say.

What was he supposed to tell them? That he had been too blind to realize he was losing someone important? That he had spent so long believing you would always be there, only to realize that maybe, just maybe, you were slipping away?

That he had never considered what it would feel like to lose you until now?

Minho swallowed hard and forced a smirk. “I’m fine, Mom. Seriously. Just tired.”

His mom didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she just patted his arm before standing up.

“Okay,” she said simply. “But if you ever want to talk about it, we’re here.”

Minho just nodded, offering her a small, forced smile.

But as he sat there, poking at the food on his plate, he couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.

He wasn’t fine. Not even close.

Later that night, Minho lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the glow of his phone screen casting a dim light across his face. He wasn’t even doing anything just mindlessly scrolling, opening and closing the same apps, checking messages he had no intention of responding to.

Still no text from you.

Not that he was waiting or anything.

He let out a slow breath, tossing his phone onto the nightstand before draping an arm over his eyes. His mind was a mess thoughts tangled up in frustration, confusion, and something else he didn’t want to name.

A soft knock at his door made him sigh. “Mom, I already told you—”

“It’s not your mom.”

Minho sat up slightly as his dad pushed the door open, stepping inside. His dad wasn’t the kind of guy who barged into his room often. Usually, he let Minho do his own thing, never prying too much.

Which meant that if he was here now, it was serious.

His dad glanced around the room before settling his gaze on Minho. “You didn’t finish dinner.”

Minho shrugged. “Wasn’t hungry.”

His dad hummed, shutting the door behind him as he walked over and took a seat on the chair by the desk. “Your mom thinks something’s wrong.”

Minho huffed, flopping back against his pillows. “Mom always thinks something’s wrong.”

His dad chuckled. “Yeah, well… this time, I think she might be right.”

Minho’s fingers curled around the blanket. He could feel his dad’s eyes on him, waiting for him to say something. To admit something.

But he didn’t even know where to start.

His dad sighed, leaning forward slightly. “Listen… I know I’m not the guy you usually come to for this kind of stuff.”

Minho rolled onto his side, staring at the wall. “There’s nothing to come to you about.”

His dad didn’t respond right away. Instead, he just studied Minho for a long moment, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. Then, in a softer voice, he asked,

“Is it about a girl?”

Minho’s breath hitched.

He didn’t answer. But the way his shoulders tensed just for a second was enough of a confirmation.

His dad nodded slowly, like everything was suddenly making sense. “Ah.”

Minho groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not—”

“You know,” his dad cut in, leaning back in the chair, “when I was your age, there was this girl I really liked.”

Minho peeked at him from the corner of his eye. “Is this where you tell me some long, dramatic love story about how you met Mom?”

His dad smirked. “No, actually. It wasn’t your mom.”

That got Minho’s attention. He turned fully to face him. “Wait. What?”

His dad chuckled. “Before I met your mom, there was someone else. She was my best friend. We did everything together. I thought we’d always be like that just us, against the world.”

Minho swallowed hard, his chest tightening.

“But then one day,” his dad continued, his voice softer now, “she started spending more time with someone else. And suddenly, I wasn’t the person she turned to anymore. I wasn’t the one making her laugh the hardest or sharing secrets late at night.”

Minho stayed quiet. He didn’t need to hear the rest of the story to know how it ended.

His dad sighed, rubbing his hands together. “I didn’t realize how much I cared about her until it was too late.” Then he looked at Minho, eyes steady. “Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Minho’s throat felt tight.

Because suddenly, he wasn’t thinking about his dad’s story anymore.

He was thinking about you.

The way you used to wait for him after class. The way your eyes always lit up when he walked into a room. The way you used to choose him without hesitation, without a second thought.

And now?

Now you were looking at Lee Joon that way. you were sharing your time, your moments, your jokes with someone else.

And for the first time, Minho felt like he was standing on the outside of your world, looking in.

His dad patted his knee before standing up. “Think about it, kid.”

Then, just like that, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Minho sat there in silence, staring at the ceiling.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to admit the one thing he had been avoiding this whole time.

He didn’t just care about you.

He didn’t just see you as a friend.

He liked you.

And maybe just maybe he was too late.

The next morning, Minho barely said a word at breakfast. His mom was chatting about something on TV, and his dad was flipping through the newspaper, but Minho’s mind was somewhere else entirely.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what his dad had said last night.

“I didn’t realize how much I cared about her until it was too late. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

It kept replaying in his head, over and over, until he wanted to scream.

Was it too late for him? Had he already lost you?

He had spent so long pretending not to care, pushing down feelings he didn’t want to deal with. But now, it was all hitting him at once, and it was suffocating.

His leg bounced under the table as he stared at his plate, barely touching his food. He needed to do something. Say something. But where did he even start?

“Minho.”

He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts as he looked up. His dad was staring at him knowingly from across the table.

“Come with me,” his dad said, setting down the newspaper and pushing back his chair.

Minho frowned, confused, but stood up anyway. His mom barely glanced up from her show as his dad led him down the hall and into his office.

Once inside, his dad walked over to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and grabbed his wallet. He took out a few bills and held them out to Minho.

Minho stared at him. “Uh… what’s this?”

His dad gave him a pointed look. “Money.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Minho scoffed. “Why are you giving it to me?”

His dad sighed, placing the money in Minho’s hand before closing his fingers around it.

“Go buy some flowers. And chocolates. Or whatever it is girls like these days.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “What—”

His dad raised an eyebrow. “You want to win her back, don’t you?”

Minho hesitated, staring down at the money in his hand. He hadn’t even said anything about you, but somehow, his dad knew.

Did he really look that obvious?

“I…” Minho swallowed, shifting on his feet. “What if it doesn’t work?”

His dad gave him a small, knowing smile. “Then at least you’ll know you tried.”

Minho stared at him for a moment before sighing, stuffing the money into his pocket.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you.”

His dad smirked. “That’s fair.”

With that, Minho turned on his heel and walked out of the office, his heart pounding harder than he wanted to admit.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t just thinking about his feelings.

He was about to do something about them.

Minho stood outside Kitty’s dorm, shifting from foot to foot as he debated whether knocking was a good idea. He wasn’t the type to ask for help, let alone from Kitty, who had an annoying habit of knowing things before he was even ready to admit them to himself.

But this? This was different.

This wasn’t something he could handle on his own.

He took a deep breath and knocked twice.

A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing Kitty in her usual oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, her hair tied in a messy bun. She blinked up at him, clearly not expecting to see him standing there.

“Minho?” she said, tilting her head. “Are you lost?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not lost.”

Kitty leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “Then why are you standing outside my room looking like you’re about to throw up?”

Minho groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Can I come in or not?”

Kitty narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment before sighing and stepping aside. “Fine. But if this is about getting me to watch another one of your boring dramas, the answer is no.”

Minho ignored her and stepped inside, shoving his hands into his pockets. The room was a little messy clothes scattered on the bed, notebooks open on the desk but it was exactly what he expected from Kitty.

She plopped onto her bed, crossing her legs. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

Minho hesitated, looking at the floor. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, especially with Kitty, who would probably never let him live it down. But he was desperate, and if there was one person who knew how to fix things, it was her.

“I need your help,” he muttered.

Kitty’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? Did Minho just say he needs my help?”

Minho groaned. “Do you want to help me or not?”

Kitty smirked, sitting up straighter. “Depends. What’s it about?”

Minho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s about Y/N.”

At that, Kitty’s entire expression shifted. The teasing look faded, replaced by something more serious something that told him she already knew what this was about.

“What about Y/N?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Minho hesitated, but there was no point in pretending anymore.

“I…” He clenched his jaw before sighing. “I think I screwed up.”

Kitty hummed, as if she wasn’t even remotely surprised. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Minho shot her a glare. “Can you not?”

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Keep going.”

Minho shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling restless. “I don’t know when it happened, but… I like her.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, but once they were out, he couldn’t take them back. “And now she’s spending all her time with Lee Joon, and I feel like—” He exhaled sharply. “I feel like I lost her before I even got a chance.”

Kitty watched him carefully, nodding along. “So, what do you want to do about it?”

Minho pulled the money from his pocket, holding it up. “Dad told me to buy flowers and chocolates.”

Kitty snorted. “Classic.”

Minho glared at her. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Kitty grinned. “Oh, I’m definitely helping. But if you’re gonna do this, you can’t half-ass it.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I never half-ass anything.”

Kitty smirked. “Good. Because if we’re winning Y/N back, we’re going all out.”

Minho felt his stomach twist. This was really happening.

He was about to fight for you.

The sun was beginning to set over the park, casting a warm orange glow over the trees and pathways. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the faint scent of flowers in the air. It was the perfect setting for something romantic something grand.

At least, that’s what Kitty had convinced Minho.

He had spent the last hour carefully placing a trail of red roses along the park’s winding path, each one leading to the small bench where he was waiting. A box of expensive chocolates sat beside him, tied with a neat satin ribbon.

He was nervous, but he had convinced himself you would come. Kitty promised she would make sure of it.

So he waited.

And waited.

But as the minutes stretched on, his excitement slowly turned into doubt.

Then doubt turned into disappointment.

And disappointment turned into something heavier something he didn’t want to name.

He checked his phone. No messages. No calls.

His jaw clenched as he looked down at the chocolates in his lap. He had really let himself believe this would work. That maybe, if he just put in the effort, if he showed you how much he cared, you would see that he was still here. That he had always been here.

But you weren’t coming.

Maybe you had seen the roses and chosen to ignore them. Maybe you had better things to do maybe with Lee Joon.

Minho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before standing up. He didn’t want to sit here like an idiot any longer.

Without another thought, he placed the chocolate box on the bench and turned away.

As he walked down the path, his hands stuffed into his pockets, he told himself he didn’t care.

He tried.

That was enough, right?

But just as he reached the park entrance, just as he was about to leave—

“Minho!”

His entire body froze.

For a second, he thought he had imagined it. That maybe his mind was playing tricks on him because he wanted to hear you say his name so badly.

But then—

“Minho, wait!”

He turned around.

And there you were.

You were breathless, your hair slightly messy from running, your eyes wide as you searched for him. In one hand, you clutched the chocolate box he had left behind.

Minho’s heart stuttered in his chest.

You came.

His feet moved before he could think, carrying him back toward you.

As soon as you saw him, relief washed over your face. “You—” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “You were leaving?”

Minho swallowed hard, trying to act indifferent, trying to ignore the way his pulse was racing. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Your grip on the chocolate box tightened. “I was late. Kitty didn’t tell me why I needed to come here, just that I had to.” You exhaled, taking a step closer. “But when I saw the roses, I knew it was you.”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “You knew?”

You nodded, smiling slightly. “Of course. It was dramatic and over-the-top. Who else could it be?”

Despite everything, a small chuckle escaped him. “Fair point.”

There was a beat of silence before you looked down at the chocolate box in your hands. “Were you really about to leave without this?”

Minho hesitated, then shrugged. “I figured you’d find it eventually.”

You bit your lip, studying him carefully. “Minho… what is all this?”

His heart pounded against his ribs. This was it.

The moment where he had to say it.

The moment where he had to be honest.

Minho inhaled deeply, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Then, in a quiet but steady voice, he said—

“It’s you.”

You blinked. “What?”

Minho exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s always been you, Y/N. I know I messed up I know I took too long to realize it, but I like you. And not in the casual, best-friend-who-flirts-with-you way. I really like you.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly in surprise.

Minho swallowed, forcing himself to keep going before he lost his nerve.

“I see the way you look at Lee Joon,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And I hate it. Not because he’s a bad guy, but because… I wanted to be the one you looked at like that. I wanted to be the one who made you laugh, who got your attention, who you—” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m too late. Maybe I should’ve said something sooner. But I had to try.”

Silence.

The park suddenly felt too quiet, too still.

Minho’s chest tightened as he watched you, trying to read your expression. Were you angry? Were you happy? Did you think this was too much?

Then, after what felt like forever, you took a deep breath and whispered, “You’re an idiot.”

Minho’s heart sank.

Before he could respond, you shook your head, stepping even closer until he could feel the warmth of your presence.

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated, softer this time. “Because I waited for so long for you to say that.”

Minho’s breath hitched. “You… what?”

You smiled, reaching out to place the chocolate box back into his hands. “I like you too, Minho.”

His heart stopped.

For the first time in weeks, the weight in his chest lifted.

“You—” He let out a breathless laugh. “You do?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a fondness there. “Took you long enough to notice.”

Minho could barely process what was happening. The relief, the shock, the stupid grin tugging at his lips he felt like a complete idiot for not realizing it sooner.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “So… does this mean I don’t have to pretend I like Lee Joon anymore?”

You laughed, and the sound was his favorite thing in the world.

“No,” you teased, nudging his shoulder. “But maybe you can start making it up to me by sharing those chocolates.”

Minho smirked, his confidence returning. “Only if you share a milkshake with me after.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were still smiling.

The two of you made your way through the streets, the city lights casting a warm glow around you. The streets weren’t too crowded, but there was a comfortable buzz of life all around cars passing by, soft music playing from open shop doors, the occasional laughter of strangers.

And through it all, Minho never let go of your hand.

When you finally reached the small restaurant a cozy little place with checkered floors and booths that looked like they hadn’t changed since the ‘80s you felt a wave of nostalgia.

“You picked this place?” you asked, surprised.

Minho smirked. “Obviously. I have great taste.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that because they put a cherry on top of their milkshakes.”

He gasped, placing a hand over his chest. “How dare you expose me like that.”

Laughing, you let him pull you inside. The warmth of the restaurant immediately wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside.

A friendly-looking waitress greeted you both and led you to a booth by the window. Minho slid into one side, and instead of sitting across from him like a normal person, you scooted in beside him, close enough that your legs brushed under the table.

Minho blinked, momentarily thrown off. But then, a slow smirk stretched across his lips. “Oh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged, leaning back against the seat like he wasn’t losing his mind over the fact that you were willingly sitting this close. “Just didn’t expect you to be so clingy.”

You scoffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

Minho chuckled but didn’t push it. Instead, he picked up the menu and held it out to you. “Go ahead and pick. But if you don’t get chocolate, just know that I’ll be judging you.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you took the menu. “Noted.”

As the two of you sat there, your fingers still loosely intertwined under the table, Minho realized something.

For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking about what he had lost.

He was thinking about what he had found.

The milkshake sat between you, two straws sticking out of the tall glass, condensation gathering on the sides. The diner’s neon lights cast a soft glow over your faces, reflecting in the window beside you. The place had a cozy hum of life soft music playing from the jukebox, the occasional clatter of dishes, and the quiet murmur of other customers.

But none of it mattered.

Because all Minho could focus on was you.

The way your lips curled around the straw as you took a sip, the way you absentmindedly played with the sleeves of his hoodie, the way your knee kept bumping against his under the table but you didn’t move away.

You caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

Minho blinked, trying to play it cool, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Liar.”

He smirked. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and Minho’s smirk only grew.

But before you could come up with a response, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something softer.

“You know,” he said, fingers brushing against yours on the table, “I didn’t think tonight would end like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “How did you think it would end?”

Minho exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head. “Not like this. Not with you wearing my hoodie. Not with you sitting so close I can barely think straight.”

You smiled, looking down for a second before glancing back up at him through your lashes. “Is that a bad thing?”

Minho swallowed, his heart doing something stupid in his chest.

“No,” he murmured. “Not at all.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The world outside continued moving cars passing by, people walking along the sidewalks but inside the small diner, time felt still.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Minho reached up, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, and you didn’t pull away.

Instead, you leaned in.

His breath hitched, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “Y/N…”

You tilted your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”

Minho hesitated, just for a second. Not because he didn’t want to he had wanted to kiss you for so long—but because this moment felt different. It wasn’t just some casual, fleeting thing.

It was you.

And that meant everything.

But when you gave him the smallest nod, silently telling him it was okay

He didn’t wait.

He closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, slowest kiss.

You tasted like chocolate and vanilla, sweet and warm, and Minho melted into it, one hand cupping your cheek while the other rested lightly on your waist.

You kissed him back without hesitation, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve, pulling him closer like you never wanted to let go.

And Minho?

He was already gone for you.

After finishing your milkshake, neither of you had wanted the night to end just yet. The warmth of your first kiss still lingered, making everything else feel softer more real. So when Minho suggested walking back to his place instead of calling a ride, you agreed without hesitation.

It wasn’t far, just a few blocks, and the walk was quiet, comfortable. His fingers never left yours, his grip firm but gentle, as if he was still trying to convince himself you were really here.

When you reached his house, he didn’t even hesitate to invite you inside. “It’s late,” he had said. “You can crash here if you want. I have extra blankets.”

You had teased him, saying, “You just wanted an excuse to keep me close,” and instead of denying it, he had simply smirked. “And?”

That’s how you found yourself now, lying on his bed, wrapped in the same hoodie he had given you earlier. At first, you had planned to stay up just talk, maybe watch something but somewhere in the middle of the quiet conversation, with the soft glow of his bedside lamp illuminating his face, sleep had crept up on both of you.

Now, the room was silent except for the steady sound of Minho’s breathing.

His arms were securely wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest like he had no intention of letting go. His face was relaxed, his usual sharp features softened by sleep. Every so often, his grip would tighten slightly, as if even in his dreams, he was making sure you were still there.

And you?

You had never felt safer.

You had never felt more at home than you did right now, tucked into Minho’s warmth, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It was perfect.

Until—

The door creaked open.

Minho’s parents had planned on checking in on him, expecting to find their son in his usual dramatic sleeping position sprawled out on his bed, probably snoring.

What they didn’t expect was to see him curled up around you, his arms wrapped protectively around your frame, his face buried in your hair.

His mother blinked, momentarily speechless.

His father raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s new.”

Minho stirred slightly, mumbling something in his sleep before pulling you closer.

His mother, finally snapping out of her surprise, melted on the spot. “Oh my god,” she whispered, grinning. “Look at them.”

His dad sighed as he smiled. “ He finally got his girl.”

His mother smirked. “He sure did.”

She reached for her phone, quickly snapping a picture. “We’re saving this for later.”

His father chuckled. “Should we wake them?”

His mother gasped, horrified. “Are you insane?! Look how peaceful he is! Do you know how rare it is for Minho to not be complaining about something? We let them sleep.”

His dad held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

But before leaving, his mother glanced back at the two of you one more time, her heart swelling. She had never seen her son like this before so content, so soft.

And as they quietly closed the door behind them, she smiled to herself, already imagining the wedding.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The first thing you became aware of was warmth. Minho’s warmth. His arms were still wrapped securely around you, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back.

For a moment, you didn’t move.

You just lay there, soaking in everything. The way his breath tickled the nape of your neck, the way his fingers had lazily intertwined with yours sometime in the middle of the night, the way his body was completely relaxed against yours.

Then, Minho stirred, groaning softly as he tightened his hold on you. “Mm… five more minutes,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, turning slightly so you could see his face. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in random directions, and his eyes were still barely open. He looked ridiculously adorable.

“You’re the one who has to get up,” you teased. “It’s your house.”

Minho groaned dramatically, burying his face in your shoulder. “Let’s just live here forever.”

You laughed. “In your bed?”

“Yep.” He peeked up at you, smirking. “Though, to be fair, you didn’t seem to mind being in my arms all night.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He grinned but finally let go, stretching with a yawn before rolling out of bed. “Come on. Let’s get food before my mom thinks we died in here.”

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful.

Minho’s mom had made pancakes, and despite the teasing glances she kept throwing at you two, she didn’t say anything though you could tell she wanted to. Minho, of course, acted like nothing had changed, but every now and then, his knee would brush against yours under the table, or he’d sneak little glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You definitely noticed.

As you reached for the syrup, Minho’s phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, and when he saw the name on the screen, he immediately sighed.

“Of course it’s Kitty.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What does she want?”

He opened the message, and you leaned over to peek at his screen.

Kitty: Soooo… did the plan work or not??? I need updates. Did you confess??

Minho shook his head, smirking. “She’s acting like this was some grand heist.”

You laughed. “To be fair, it kinda was.”

Minho hummed, pretending to consider it. “True.”

Then, instead of responding with words, he turned his camera on, leaned in toward you, and snapped a quick picture of the two of you sitting way too close at the breakfast table your hand in his, his hoodie still draped over your shoulders.

You blinked. “Minho—”

Too late.

He sent the picture.

A second later, Kitty’s response came in.

Kitty: OH MY GOD I KNEW IT!!!

Minho chuckled, locking his phone before placing it back on the table. “That should keep her satisfied for now.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re so dramatic.”

Minho smirked, resting his chin in his palm as he gazed at you. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Because, honestly?

There was nowhere else you’d rather be.

The school day was just beginning, and you were walking alongside Minho, your usual group of friends scattered about. The moment you stepped onto the campus, you could feel the weight of the new dynamic. You and Minho were finally… officially together. The tension and uncertainty of the past few weeks had shifted into something more solid, more real, and it made your heart race every time you caught his eye.

You couldn’t help but notice the small things how Minho would reach over to squeeze your hand between classes or how he’d make sure to walk you to your next period, carrying your bag for you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Today, you noticed it even more. The way he looked at you when you laughed at something, the way his hand never left yours unless absolutely necessary. You were still getting used to this new, more affectionate side of Minho, but it felt right.

Until—

As you walked toward the building, a familiar voice cut through the chatter of the hall.

“Minho.”

You froze, and Minho did too. You both turned to see Lee Joon walking toward you, his usual calm expression in place. He wasn’t alone there were a couple of his friends walking behind him but it was clear his attention was on you and Minho.

For a second, there was an awkward silence. You weren’t sure what to say after everything, you’d almost forgotten that there had once been something between you and Lee Joon. But here he was, standing in front of you, and you had no idea how this was going to go.

Lee Joon gave you a small smile, but his gaze shifted to Minho, his expression softening.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, his voice steady, “I’m happy for you two.”

Minho blinked, clearly not expecting that. “What?”

Lee Joon shrugged, hands shoved into his pockets. “I mean it. I’m glad you two worked it out.” He glanced at you for a moment, then looked back at Minho. “I just hope you’ll treat her well, yeah?”

There was a strange tension in the air, but Lee Joon’s words were honest, and his tone was sincere.

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly processing Lee Joon’s sudden warmth. “I—yeah, I will.” He smirked. “Not like I’d do anything else.”

Lee Joon nodded, his gaze softening. “Just making sure.” He offered Minho a small smile. “Anyway, good luck, man. I wish you both the best.”

Minho nodded, his posture relaxing. “Thanks, Lee Joon.” He smiled in return, a little less guarded now.

Lee Joon didn’t linger for long. He gave you a nod before turning and walking away with his friends, leaving the two of you standing in the hallway.

The moment Lee Joon disappeared around the corner, Minho exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, his hand still holding yours. “That was… unexpected.”

You looked up at him, a little surprised by how easily Minho had taken it. “Yeah. It was nice of him, though.”

Minho smirked, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, well… he knows I’ll treat you right. I don’t need to prove anything.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re so confident.”

Minho chuckled, pulling you a little closer. “It’s not about confidence. It’s about knowing what I have.”

He gave you a mischievous look, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Well, good,” you teased, “because I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Minho’s grin softened, and he leaned in to kiss the top of your head. “Good. Because neither am I.”

And as you both made your way into the building, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was finally falling into place.

The day was flying by, and lunch break arrived with a wave of relief. You and Minho made your way to the usual spot where you’d meet up with your friends, settling into a spot on the grassy field behind the school. The weather was perfect a light breeze, warm sun but something about it felt a little off today.

As you sat down, you noticed that Kitty wasn’t exactly looking too thrilled. She was pacing around the area, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shooting occasional glances at you and Minho. It wasn’t the usual carefree Kitty you were used to, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

Minho, sitting beside you, seemed to pick up on it, too. He leaned over, resting his head on your shoulder for a second as he whispered, “What’s with Kitty?”

You looked over at her. “I think she’s… jealous?”

Minho blinked, clearly confused. “Of us?”

You chuckled lightly. “I think she’s tired of playing the third wheel.”

At that, Minho burst into laughter. “What, you think she’s jealous of me?”

“Well, when you’re always the one hanging out with me, maybe.” You shot him a teasing glance, nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t worry, she’ll get over it. It’s just… funny how she’s acting.”

Just as you said that, Kitty suddenly groaned loudly, causing both you and Minho to turn toward her. She flopped down dramatically on the grass beside you, throwing her arms out in frustration.

“I can’t stand this!” she declared, earning curious looks from the people around her.

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “What’s wrong with you now, Kitty?”

She let out a theatrical sigh, flopping her head back onto the grass as if the entire world were conspiring against her. “I am literally the third wheel now! How am I supposed to be your best friend if you’re over here being all cute together all the time?” She shot you both an exaggerated pout. “You know I’m just here for the drama, and you guys are ruining it with all your…” she gestured dramatically to the both of you, “…love and cuddles and whatever else you’re doing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and warm. Minho chuckled too, clearly amused. “We’re not doing anything, Kitty. We’re just sitting here.”

Kitty threw up her hands. “It’s not the sitting, it’s the fact that I’m alone while you two are all over each other! You’re making me feel like a third wheel, and I’m not okay with that!”

Minho grinned mischievously, leaning back against the grass. “If it makes you feel any better, Kitty,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’m sure we could work something out. You’re always welcome to hang out with us.”

Kitty narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? You’re just so generous, Minho. Like, I’m so excited to spend my time watching you two be all… sweet and adorable.”

You grinned, teasing her playfully. “I think you’re just mad because you have no one to complain about like we do.”

Kitty groaned again, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, fine, I get it. You two are all happy and cute, and I’m stuck in the corner being the lonely best friend.”

Minho smirked, nudging you with his shoulder. “Well, you can hang out with us, but you have to put up with the cuteness.”

Kitty dramatically covered her face with her hands. “I don’t think I can handle it!”

You laughed, your heart warm from the teasing banter. You could tell that even though Kitty was acting all dramatic about the situation, she didn’t truly mind. She loved both of you, and she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t forgotten in all of this new relationship excitement.

Minho, sensing the mood shifting, leaned forward with a genuine smile. “Hey, we’ll make it up to you, Kitty. How about we all hang out this weekend? You, me, Y/N. I’ll even throw in some extra snacks for you to complain about us with.”

Kitty raised her head from her hands, giving him a skeptical look. “You’ll throw in extra snacks, huh?”

“Yep.” Minho grinned. “And I’ll promise not to be overly affectionate around you. Maybe.”

Kitty smirked. “Alright, deal. But only if I get to choose the movie.”

You and Minho exchanged glances, both of you knowing there was no way Kitty would ever let you pick the movie after all this.

“Deal,” Minho agreed, already preparing himself for whatever chaos Kitty was about to drag you into next.

“Great,” Kitty said, sitting up and wiping her hands dramatically. “Now that we’ve settled that, you guys owe me for ruining my third-wheel-free life.”

Minho rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

As the three of you sat there, joking and laughing, the warmth of your new relationship and the friendship that came with it was more than enough to make everything feel right. Even if Kitty was a little dramatic, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The weekend arrived, and the three of you gathered at Minho’s place for your promised movie night. Kitty had already made it clear that she would control the movie selection, but to her surprise, she was having a hard time picking one. Every time she suggested a movie, Minho would raise an eyebrow and say, “Are you sure that one? We might fall asleep in the middle of it.”

“You’re lucky I don’t make you watch another rom-com,” she threatened, glancing between the two of you with a playful smirk.

You chuckled. “I think we’ve seen enough rom-coms for one lifetime, Kitty.”

Minho grinned. “I’m on her side this time. No more cheesy love stories.”

Kitty huffed but eventually settled on a movie. She made sure it was one neither of you had seen, determined to pick something that would hold your attention. Popcorn was popped, and drinks were set out in front of you both, but as the night went on, it became obvious that the movie wasn’t the only thing that had everyone’s attention.

You and Minho found yourselves sitting close together on the couch, your legs tangled beneath a soft blanket. Kitty was seated next to you, but she was starting to get a little more restless as the evening wore on.

Minho, being Minho, couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at you. your hand in his, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand. Every now and then, he’d feed you a piece of popcorn, and you’d smile and reciprocate by handing him one in return. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just simple gestures of affection that made your heart flutter.

Kitty, on the other hand, was watching the two of you with a slightly exasperated look on her face. At first, she tried to hide it behind the popcorn bowl, but it was hard not to notice the way her eyes kept flicking over to you and Minho, both of you so caught up in your little bubble of quiet tenderness.

You leaned against Minho’s shoulder, feeling content as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “This movie’s good,” you said softly, though you knew you were paying more attention to him than the actual film.

“Mm-hmm,” Minho murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. “Better with you here.”

You smiled, brushing your cheek against his arm. “It’s always better when you’re around.”

Kitty rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the tiny smile tugging at her lips. “You guys are so cheesy,” she said, though the tone wasn’t as biting as before.

You looked at her, a little mischievous. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not enjoying the drama of it all.”

She threw a pillow at you. “I’m not enjoying anything, thank you very much. I’m just—”

She stopped when she saw you and Minho share a quiet laugh, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. It was in that moment that something shifted in Kitty’s eyes. The earlier feeling of being left out and annoyed by the constant affection faded, replaced by something different.

She felt a little… guilty.

She had been so quick to complain about being the third wheel, but now, as she watched the way Minho gazed at you like you were the center of his world she couldn’t help but feel a wave of regret.

Minho was happy. You were happy. And here she was, trying to make herself the center of attention, when she knew perfectly well that she didn’t need to be.

Kitty paused, her arms crossing as she sighed deeply. “Okay, okay. I admit it. I’m a little jealous. Happy now?”

You and Minho both laughed at her outburst, and she threw her hands up in defeat.

“I’m just saying, you two are so cute together. And I’m just… I don’t know… sitting here eating all the popcorn.” She leaned back into the couch dramatically. “You’re like a real couple now, huh?”

Minho leaned over, gently pulling the blanket higher around you both. “Yeah, we are.” He gave her a playful grin. “And don’t worry, Kitty. You’re still our favorite third wheel.”

Kitty rolled her eyes again but smiled, her earlier annoyance melting away as she saw the affection between you and Minho. It was clear that you both were in a happy, comfortable place, and while it might’ve taken her a moment to get used to it, she was genuinely happy for you both.

“I guess I can get used to being the third wheel if you two keep being this adorable,” she said, her voice light and teasing again.

You grinned and handed her the popcorn. “As long as you’re still our favorite third wheel.”

Kitty took the bowl from you and sighed dramatically. “I’ll allow it.” She glanced over at you both, her expression softening. “But you guys better treat each other well. I’m keeping an eye on you, Minho.”

Minho chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, pulling you closer. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Kitty leaned back, smiling quietly as she watched you and Minho. And despite the playful teasing, there was a warmth in her chest a realization that she wasn’t just the third wheel. She was part of something special, too. She would always be a part of your circle, and that’s what truly mattered.

As the movie continued to play, and you and Minho quietly exchanged sweet words, Kitty settled in beside you both, no longer feeling like an outsider. Instead, she was part of this beautiful, messy, and loving little family you were creating, and maybe just maybe being the third wheel didn’t seem so bad after all.

The next day, you and Kitty were hanging out in the school courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace before the chaos of the next class. The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and for once, Kitty wasn’t groaning about third-wheeling until, of course, Minho appeared.

And not just Minho.

Minho, walking confidently across the courtyard with a massive teddy bear in his arms.

You blinked in surprise, trying to process what you were seeing. The teddy bear was almost as big as he was, its fluffy arms practically swallowing him whole. He carried it effortlessly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Kitty, on the other hand, immediately burst into laughter. “Oh, this is gold.” She crossed her arms and smirked as Minho reached your table. “So, tell me, Minho who’s the lucky recipient of that absurdly large bear? Is it… me?” She batted her eyelashes dramatically. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Minho rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the bear as he looked at Kitty with mock seriousness. “Oh, yeah, totally. I went to the store, saw this giant teddy bear, and thought, You know who needs this? Kitty Song Covey.”

Kitty gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake flattery. “Wow. I’m touched. I mean, I always knew I was your favorite person, but this really seals the deal.”

Minho ignored her, turning toward you with a small, almost shy smile. “Nah, this is obviously for Y/N.”

Your eyes widened as he extended the teddy bear toward you, and a soft warmth spread through your chest. “Minho… this is huge.” You reached out to touch the soft fur, grinning as you took it from him. “What’s the occasion?”

Minho shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “No occasion. Just saw it and thought you’d like it.”

Kitty groaned dramatically. “Oh my god. You two are unbearable.” She gestured toward the teddy bear. “Literally.”

Minho shot her a smug grin. “Jealous, Kitty?”

Kitty huffed, shaking her head. “Not in the slightest. But I will say this if you keep spoiling Y/N like this, you’re setting a dangerous precedent. She’s gonna start expecting giant teddy bears all the time.”

You hugged the bear close, laughing. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Minho smirked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Noted.”

Kitty fake gagged. “Okay, enough. I need to find a date immediately before I drown in the sheer amount of romance happening in front of me.”

Minho just chuckled as you leaned into the plush bear, completely content.

And as Kitty dramatically pulled out her phone, muttering about setting up a dating profile, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have Minho and his ridiculously sweet gestures all to yourself.

That night, Kitty walked into your living room, arms full with two giant bags of snacks like popcorn, candy, chips, and even a couple of sodas she had smuggled in from her dorm. She had been looking forward to this sleepover all week. A classic bestie night: just you and her, watching rom-coms, gossiping, and stuffing your faces with junk food.

But the second she stepped into the dimly lit room, her excitement immediately turned into exasperation.

Because there, right in the middle of your living room, were you and Minho.

Cuddled up on top of the massive teddy bear he had given you earlier, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, both of you fast asleep.

Kitty let out the most dramatic groan, dropping the snack bags onto the floor with a loud rustle. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You had promised her. PROMISED. It was supposed to be a just the two of you kind of night no boyfriends allowed. But here you were, completely breaking the sacred best friend sleepover code, snuggled up against Minho like the two of you were in your own little world.

Kitty crossed her arms, tapping her foot. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

Minho, of course, was sleeping peacefully, his arms wrapped securely around you, his face buried in your hair like he had no plans of moving anytime soon. You, curled up comfortably against his chest, were equally as lost in dreamland, your head resting just beneath his chin.

Kitty sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is exactly why I need a boyfriend. So I don’t have to suffer alone every time you two decide to turn my night into a third-wheel nightmare.”

She contemplated waking you up shaking you awake and demanding answers but then she noticed something that made her pause.

Despite how annoying it was to have her best friend ditch their plans, the way you and Minho were curled up together, completely at ease, was kind of… sweet. It wasn’t just some casual nap; it was the kind of peaceful, soft kind of love that made it obvious how much you two cared about each other.

Kitty sighed dramatically, crouching down to grab the spilled snack bags. “Fine,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll let it slide this time. But next sleepover? No boyfriends allowed. I mean it.”

With one last exasperated glance at you two, she plopped down onto the couch, pulled out a bag of popcorn, and started her movie third-wheeling once again, but at least with good snacks.

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the school courtyard as you and Minho walked hand in hand, matching strides. The weekend was just around the corner, and you had the perfect plan a carnival date. Well, technically, a carnival hangout, since you were about to invite Kitty.

Minho, of course, was less than thrilled about that part.

“Remind me why we’re inviting her again?” he asked, glancing at you with a smirk.

You nudged him playfully. “Because she’s our friend and because I totally ditched her during the sleepover. We owe her.”

Minho sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if she ruins our romantic moments, I’m making her buy me churros.”

You giggled as you spotted Kitty near her locker, scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to your approach. Minho, ever the menace, leaned in and whispered, “Watch this,” before calling out

“Kitty Song Covey!”

Kitty visibly flinched, nearly dropping her phone. She whipped her head around, eyes narrowing. “Why do you sound like you’re about to ask me for a favor?”

You beamed at her. “Because we are!”

Kitty groaned, already shaking her head. “Nope. I don’t like this. Whatever it is, no.”

Minho scoffed. “You don’t even know what we’re gonna say.”

Kitty crossed her arms. “Fine. Hit me with it.”

You clasped your hands together, putting on your sweetest voice. “We’re going to the carnival this weekend, and we want you to come with us!”

Kitty blinked. Then, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world, she let out a loud, mocking laugh.

Minho frowned. “What’s so funny?”

Kitty wiped an imaginary tear. “Oh, you two are hilarious. You actually think I’m going to spend my Friday night watching you two be disgustingly cute at a carnival?”

You pouted. “Come on, Kitty. We’ll go on rides, eat junk food, win prizes. It’ll be fun!”

Kitty gave you a deadpan look. “Fun for who? Because let’s be real, the moment we get there, it’s gonna be ‘Omg, Minho, let’s go on the Ferris wheel!’ ‘Minho, win me that stuffed bear!’ ‘Minho, let’s share some cotton candy!’” She rolled her eyes. “Meanwhile, I’ll be in the background, questioning all my life choices.”

Minho smirked. “You do have a point. We’d be way too busy being adorable to give you attention.”

Kitty groaned. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about!” She turned to you. “Tell me I’m wrong. Go ahead. Lie to my face.”

You opened your mouth, then hesitated. Because, well… she wasn’t wrong. You and Minho would probably do all of that.

Kitty smirked in triumph. “Exactly.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “So, yeah. Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather spend my Friday night doing literally anything else than third-wheeling at a carnival.”

Minho grinned, draping an arm around you. “Your loss. Guess that means more snacks and prizes for us.”

Kitty scoffed. “Oh, please. Minho’s just saying that because he knows you’re gonna make him spend all his money on those overpriced carnival games.”

Minho’s smirk faltered slightly. “…That’s not entirely false.”

You giggled, leaning into him. “You love it, though.”

Minho sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

Kitty made a gagging noise. “And this is exactly why I’m staying home.” She started to walk away, then paused, turning back to you. “But hey, if you win a big plushie, I expect a picture. Y’know, just so I can suffer from afar.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

As Kitty walked off, Minho chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Well, that went as expected.”

You grinned. “That just means we get to have the most romantic, disgustingly cute date ever.”

Minho smirked. “Oh, absolutely. Let’s make sure Kitty regrets not coming.”

And with that, the two of you walked off, already planning the perfect carnival date completely third-wheel free.

The carnival was everything you had hoped for bright lights, the scent of fried food in the air, and the sound of excited laughter filling the night. It was the perfect atmosphere for a date, and Minho, ever the gentleman, had already taken your hand the moment you stepped through the entrance.

And, of course, in true Kitty fashion, everything she predicted was coming true.

First stop? The Ferris wheel.

You had insisted on it, dragging Minho toward the towering ride with stars in your eyes. “Come on, it’s a must!” you said, looking at him with so much excitement that he just sighed and let himself be pulled along.

Once inside the small, enclosed gondola, you leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder as the ride began its slow ascent. The higher you went, the more the entire carnival stretched out beneath you, a glittering wonderland of neon lights and moving rides.

Minho glanced down at you, smirking. “So, when do I get my dramatic movie moment where you say something super sentimental?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You mean like, ‘Minho, you make my world brighter than all these carnival lights combined’?”

Minho chuckled. “Yeah. Something cheesy like that.”

You looked at him for a moment, then smiled softly. “I don’t need to say that, because you already know it’s true.”

For once, Minho was silent. His smirk faded just slightly, replaced with something softer, something almost vulnerable. Then, without a word, he leaned down and kissed your forehead, letting the moment speak for itself.

By the time you got off the Ferris wheel, you were beaming.

Next stop? The carnival games.

You weren’t going to lie you were determined to leave with a stuffed animal. And unfortunately for Minho, that meant that he’ll end up being replaced by that some stuffed animal

“Minho, you have to win me that one!” You pointed at a giant plush bunny hanging from one of the booths.

Minho eyed it skeptically. “That thing is, like, twice your size.”

“So? That just means I’ll have more to cuddle when you’re not around.”

Minho gave you a deadpan look. “Are you seriously saying a stuffed bunny could replace me?”

You grinned. “I mean, let’s see if you can even win it first.”

That was all the motivation Minho needed. He rolled up his sleeves, stepped up to the game booth, and put on his game face.

What followed was several attempts, an increasingly frustrated Minho, and a lot of teasing from you. But eventually finally he knocked down all the targets, and the booth attendant handed over the giant plush bunny.

You gasped in delight, hugging the stuffed toy tightly before turning to Minho with the biggest smile. “I take it back. Nothing could replace you.”

Minho huffed, pretending to be unimpressed, but you could see the tiny satisfied smile on his lips. “Good answer.”

Then, without warning, he reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. “But just so you don’t forget, I think I deserve a reward.”

You laughed. “Oh? And what exactly do you want?”

Minho smirked before leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss.

By the time you pulled away, your face was warm, your heart racing.

Minho grinned. “That’ll do.”

And finally? The food.

You insisted on sharing cotton candy, even though Minho rolled his eyes and muttered about how predictable you were. But when you held out a piece for him, he didn’t hesitate to lean in and take a bite letting his lips brush against your fingertips in the process.

You felt your face heat up. “You did that on purpose.”

Minho just smirked. “Did I?”

And then there was the churro.

Which Minho also insisted on sharing, but in the most obnoxious way possible.

“Let’s do that couple thing,” he said, holding the churro up.

You raised an eyebrow. “What couple thing?”

Minho’s smirk widened. “Where we each bite from one end at the same time.”

You stared at him. “That is the dumbest—”

But before you could even finish, Minho already took one end into his mouth, raising an expectant eyebrow at you.

You groaned. “I cannot believe you.”

Still, you leaned in, biting the other end.

Kitty would have thrown up on the spot if she had seen it.

By the end of the night, you had done exactly what Kitty had predicted Ferris wheel, winning a plushie, sharing cotton candy, and feeding each other snacks.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Kitty was sprawled across your bed, lazily flipping through a magazine as you tidied up your desk. She had come over to hang out, claiming she needed a “break” from dealing with her own dramas, but you knew the truth she was mildly curious about how your carnival date with Minho went.

She hadn’t asked outright, of course. Instead, she casually glanced around your room, humming to herself until her eyes landed on something huge in the corner.

The giant rabbit plush from last night.

Kitty sat up instantly, pointing at it. “Wait a minute. Don’t you already have one already?”

You paused, following her gaze before letting out a small laugh. “Okay, first of all, I only have one other giant plush. And second, this one is special.”

Kitty snorted. “Special how? Because Minho wasted all his money trying to win it for you?”

Before you could answer, your door suddenly swung open, and speak of the devil Minho walked in.

“Excuse you,” he said, giving Kitty a look as he strolled inside like he owned the place. “I did not waste my money. I made a perfectly justified investment.”

Kitty rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, of course, spending an absurd amount of cash just to impress your girlfriend is an investment. How silly of me to think otherwise.”

Minho smirked, plopping down onto your bed beside you. “Exactly. Glad you’re finally catching on, Covey.”

Kitty scoffed before turning back to you. “Okay, so explain. Why do you need two enormous stuffed animals taking up half your room?”

You shrugged, hugging the plush rabbit close. “Because they’re cute. And soft. And Minho got them for me.”

Minho leaned back, resting an arm behind his head. “Yeah, it’s called being an amazing boyfriend. You wouldn’t get it, Kitty.”

Kitty groaned. “Oh my god, you are so smug.”

Minho grinned. “And yet, here I am, still the favorite.”

Kitty dramatically flopped back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. “I need a boyfriend. Or literally any kind of love life. Because I physically cannot keep third-wheeling you two like this.”

You giggled. “You could always get a giant plushie for yourself.”

Kitty shot you a look. “It is not the same, Y/N.”

Minho smirked, leaning in closer to you. “See? No one does it like me.”

Kitty groaned into a pillow. “I hate both of you.”

You and Minho exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter, while Kitty just dramatically complained about needing new friends who weren’t disgustingly in love.

Kitty sat up, staring at the giant rabbit plush like it was calling her name. She tapped her chin thoughtfully before turning to you with a suspiciously sweet smile.

“So…” she started, scooting closer to the plush. “Can I borrow this little guy for a while?”

You blinked at her, clutching the stuffed bunny closer like she had just asked for your firstborn child. “Uh… no. It’s mine.”

Kitty gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart like you had just deeply offended her. “Excuse me?”

Minho, who was casually scrolling through his phone on your bed, snorted. “Did you actually think she’d say yes?”

Kitty ignored him, narrowing her eyes at you. “Wait, why not?! You have Minho! I don’t have anyone! Let me have the bunny!”

You shook your head firmly. “Nope. Minho won it for me. It’s special.”

Kitty threw her hands in the air. “Okay, and what about me? What do I get? Third-wheeling privileges?”

Minho smirked. “Sounds like a you problem, Covey.”

Kitty shot him a glare. “I wasn’t talking to you, Mr. I Spend All My Money on Rigged Carnival Games.”

Minho shrugged, completely unfazed. “Worth it.”

Kitty groaned, flopping back on your bed. “This is so unfair. You have a boyfriend and two giant plushies. Meanwhile, I have neither. I should at least get one!”

You laughed, patting her shoulder. “You can hug the pillow?”

Kitty dramatically rolled onto her side. “It’s not the same. It doesn’t have the emotional support energy that the bunny has.”

Minho leaned in, smirking. “Sounds like you need a boyfriend, Covey.”

Kitty shot up. “Thank you, Minho! I hadn’t realized! Let me just go to the boyfriend store and pick one out!”

Minho chuckled. “Well, if you want, I could help set you up—”

“NO.” Kitty cut him off immediately, pointing a finger at him. “You and your questionable matchmaking skills stay far, far away from my love life.”

Minho leaned back, hands up in surrender. “Fine. Your loss.”

Kitty huffed before turning back to you with pleading eyes. “So? Are you gonna let me borrow the bunny or not?”

You shook your head again, holding it even tighter. “Nope.”

Kitty groaned. “You’re a monster.”

Minho smirked. “Now you know how I feel when she steals my hoodies.”

Kitty gasped again, eyes widening in realization. “OH. MY. GOD. Y/N, you hoard things! First his hoodies, Mostly everything?! What’s next? His soul?”

You grinned innocently. “Already got that.”

Minho chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “It’s true. I’m hers.”

Kitty made a loud, disgusted noise. “I need new friends.”

And with that, she dramatically flopped onto your bed again, while you and Minho just laughed at her misery.

Kitty, still sulking from her failed attempt to claim the bunny, suddenly pointed at the other giant plush sitting in the corner of your room the first one Minho brought for you.

“Okay, but what about that one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Can I at least borrow him?”

Before you could even answer, Minho immediately cut in, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no. That one’s off-limits too.”

Kitty groaned. “Oh, come on! Why?!”

Minho smirked, leaning back against your pillows. “Because that’s our son.”

You blinked, looking at him in confusion. “Wait… what?”

Minho pointed at the plushie. “That’s Minho Jr. Our firstborn.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”

Kitty, meanwhile, was staring at him with pure disbelief. “I— Minho, what the actual—” She turned to you. “Are you seriously going along with this?!”

You shrugged, grinning. “I mean… I guess it kinda makes sense.”

Minho nodded seriously. “Exactly. Minho Jr. was the first big plushie I got for Y/N. He represents the beginning of our love story. He has sentimental value.”

Kitty gagged. “Please, spare me.”

But Minho wasn’t done yet. He pointed at the giant bunny still in your arms. “And that one—our second child.”

Kitty threw her hands in the air. “You did NOT just give the plushies a family ranking!”

Minho shrugged. “Listen, it’s called commitment. You wouldn’t get it.”

You giggled, hugging the bunny closer. “So… Minho Jr. and…” You looked at the bunny thoughtfully. “What’s this one’s name?”

Minho tilted his head, pretending to think. Then he snapped his fingers. “Bunny-ho.”

Kitty lost it. “NO.”

You burst into laughter. “Oh my god, Minho—”

Minho looked so smug. “What? It’s perfect.”

Kitty groaned. “I hate it here. First, I can’t have a plushie, and now I have to sit here while you two build a fake family with stuffed animals?”

Minho smirked, pulling you closer. “You could be the cool aunt, Covey.”

Kitty gave him a deadpan look. “I want nothing to do with this family tree.”

You giggled, leaning into Minho’s side. “It’s okay, Minho. She just doesn’t understand our vision.”

Minho nodded. “Exactly. Some people just aren’t ready for this level of commitment.”

Kitty groaned again, flopping back onto your bed. “I need to start charging you guys for emotional damages.”

Meanwhile, you and Minho just exchanged knowing smiles, completely content with your ridiculous little plushie family.

Kitty was still dramatically lying on your bed, mumbling complaints about how she had somehow ended up third-wheeling a couple and their imaginary plushie family.

Minho, of course, was having the time of his life teasing her.

As he wrapped an arm around you, he turned to Kitty with a smirk. “Hey, so… do you mind watching your nephews while I take this beautiful lady out to dinner?”

Kitty sat up immediately, staring at him like he had lost his mind. “I— excuse me?!”

Minho gestured towards the two giant plushies in the corner, looking completely serious. “Minho Jr. and Bunny-ho. You know, your nephews. Someone’s gotta babysit them while we’re gone.”

You giggled, playing along. “Yeah, Kitty. They’ll get lonely.”

Kitty rubbed her temples. “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation right now.”

Minho tilted his head innocently. “What? You love kids, don’t you?”

Kitty gave him the most deadpan look. “They’re not kids. They’re stuffed animals.”

Minho ignored her, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before grabbing his jacket. “Anyway, we’ll be back later. Make sure they don’t stay up too late.”

Kitty threw her hands in the air. “Oh, right. Because a bunch of cotton and fabric totally has a bedtime!”

You smiled, hugging Bunny-ho close. “And don’t forget to feed them!”

Kitty let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god. You guys are actually insane.”

Minho just grinned. “You knew what you were signing up for when you became our friend.”

Kitty groaned, flopping back onto your bed. “You know what? Fine. I’ll watch your fake children. But if they start talking to me, I’m out.”

You and Minho burst into laughter as he took your hand, leading you towards the door.

Right before you stepped out, Minho turned back with a teasing smirk. “Love you, sis. Be a good aunt.”

Kitty threw a pillow at him. “GET OUT!”

You laughed the whole way down the hall, holding Minho’s hand as he chuckled beside you. “She’s never gonna let this go.”

Minho squeezed your hand, smiling down at you. “Totally worth it.”

The restaurant Minho had chosen was small, cozy, and tucked away from the busy streets a place that felt like your own little world. Soft lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the wooden tables, and the faint sound of music played in the background. It was perfect.

Minho pulled out your chair for you, giving you a teasing smirk as you sat down. “Only the best treatment for my girl.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so extra.”

He sat down across from you, resting his chin in his hand as he gazed at you with that annoyingly charming look he always had. “And yet, you love it.”

You pretended to think for a moment, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I don’t know, do I?”

Minho scoffed, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Wow. After everything I’ve done for you? After winning you one child at the carnival?”

You giggled. “Oh, right! Bunny-ho. I should’ve known this was about him.”

Minho smirked. “Obviously. I take my fatherly duties very seriously.”

A waiter came by, setting down your drinks. Minho grabbed his immediately, taking a sip before looking at you again. “So, what’s the verdict? Best date ever?”

You smiled, stirring your drink with the straw. “It’s definitely up there.”

Minho leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Up there?”

You shrugged playfully. “I mean, there was that one time you tripped while trying to impress me—”

Minho groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, you promised to never bring that up again.”

You laughed. “I never promised that!”

Minho peeked at you through his fingers before shaking his head, clearly trying to hold back a smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You took a sip of your drink, looking at him over the rim. “I know.”

The food arrived, and as you both started eating, Minho kept sneaking bites from your plate, acting innocent every time you caught him.

“Minho!” you gasped, swatting his hand away. “Eat your own food!”

“But yours tastes better,” he whined, quickly grabbing another bite before you could stop him.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Unbelievable.”

Minho grinned, chewing happily. “Hey, you knew what you were getting into when you started dating me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling.

After a while, Minho set down his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair, looking at you softly. His usual teasing smirk was replaced by something gentler.

“I really like this,” he said, voice quieter now.

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

He gestured around. “This. Us. Sitting here, eating, talking. Just… being together.”

Your heart melted a little at the way he was looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “Me too.”

Minho squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “Good. Because I plan on doing this a lot more.”

You giggled. “Stealing my food?”

Minho smirked. “That too.”

And as you sat there, laughing and talking over dinner, you knew there was no place you’d rather be.

After finishing dinner, Minho insisted on paying, waving you off when you tried to argue. “Nope, I got this,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “A gentleman always pays for his lady.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “You just don’t want me to see how much you spent.”

Minho smirked. “That too.”

Once you were outside, the night air was cool, but not too cold. The streets were quieter now, the soft glow of streetlights giving everything a warm, cozy feel. Minho reached for your hand as you walked, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I think that was the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said.

You looked at him with a teasing smile. “Because of the food or because of me?”

Minho pretended to think for a moment before grinning. “Both. But mostly you.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “Good answer.”

As you continued walking, Minho suddenly stopped in front of a small convenience store. “Wait here,” he said before disappearing inside.

You stood there, confused, until he came back out a few minutes later holding two ice cream bars. He unwrapped one and handed it to you.

You smiled, taking it. “What’s this for?”

Minho shrugged, unwrapping his own. “Just felt like ending the night with something sweet.”

You took a bite, enjoying the simple moment. Minho watched you for a second before chuckling.

“What?” you asked.

“You have ice cream on your lip,” he said, stepping closer. Before you could wipe it away, he leaned in and kissed the spot, his lips lingering just for a second.

Your face felt warm despite the cold treat in your hand. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, looking away to hide your smile.

Minho just laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you continued walking. “And yet, you love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Say it.”

You looked up at him, meeting his expectant gaze. With a playful smile, you said, “I love it.”

Minho grinned, looking completely satisfied. “Knew it.”

And just like that, the night felt even more perfect.

As soon as you and Minho stepped into your house, still laughing from your walk back, Kitty was already standing there in the doorway with her arms crossed, tapping her foot like an impatient mother waiting for her kids to come home past curfew.

“Finally! You guys are here,” she huffed, throwing her hands up. “Now come and watch your kids— I mean, your stuffed animals.”

Minho smirked, pulling off his jacket. “Aw, did Aunt Kitty have a hard time babysitting?”

Kitty shot him a glare. “Oh, you have no idea. Minho Jr. and Bunny-ho have been so needy. Bunny-ho kept falling over, and Minho Jr. refused to sit properly on the bed.” She placed a dramatic hand on her forehead. “It was exhausting.”

You giggled, playing along. “Wow, sounds like you had a rough night. Maybe you should’ve read them a bedtime story.”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Oh, I would have, but I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries as the aunt.”

Minho grinned, stepping over to the bed where the two plushies sat, slightly slumped over from all of Kitty’s supposed “hard work.” He picked up Minho Jr. and cradled it like a baby. “Aw, our poor son. Was Aunt Kitty mean to you?”

Kitty groaned, flopping onto the couch. “I hate that I’ve been dragged into this family roleplay.”

You sat next to her, hugging Bunny-ho close. “You love it.”

“I really don’t.”

Minho sat down beside you, still holding onto Minho Jr. “Well, thanks for watching them while we were gone. You’ve done a great job, Covey.”

Kitty crossed her arms. “Yeah, yeah. Next time, I’m charging for my services.”

You and Minho exchanged a knowing look before turning back to her.

Minho smirked. “Nah. You’re family. Babysitting comes with the title.”

Kitty groaned, grabbing a pillow and covering her face with it. “I need a new friend group.”

“So,” Minho started, stretching out his legs. “What time did you feed our kids?”

Kitty’s head snapped up so fast you thought she might get whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Minho gestured toward the stuffed animals. “Minho Jr. and his little brother. What time did you feed them?”

Kitty gawked at him. “They’re stuffed animals, Minho. They don’t eat.”

Minho gasped in pure horror. “You didn’t feed them?!”

Kitty blinked. “Are you serious right now?”

You, already knowing exactly where this was going, bit your lip to hold back your laughter.

Minho turned to you, eyes wide with mock distress. “Y/N. Our kids haven’t eaten all night. No wonder they look so weak.” He reached over and patted Minho Jr.’s head like a concerned parent. “Oh my poor, starving son…”

Kitty threw Minho Jr. at him. “Here, you can have him back then.”

Minho caught the plush with ease, holding him protectively. “Wow. Just wow, Kitty. I trusted you. And you just let them starve.”

Kitty groaned into a pillow. “I hate you so much.”

“You’re never babysitting again,” Minho continued, shaking his head in disappointment. “Neglectful. Absolutely neglectful.”

“They’re literally stuffed animals!” Kitty shouted. “What was I supposed to do, blend up a smoothie and pour it on them?!”

Minho shrugged. “A responsible babysitter would’ve figured it out.”

Kitty threw another pillow at him.

You, by now, were full-on cackling, clutching your stomach as Minho continued his very dramatic lecture on how Minho Jr. deserved better.

And as much as Kitty complained about you two being absolute menaces, you could see the small smile she was trying to hide.

Yeah, she’d never admit it but she loved this chaos.

Minho, still cradling Minho Jr. like a very concerned parent, suddenly gasped and sat up straighter. He patted down the couch dramatically, as if searching for something.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “Oh no, no, no this is bad.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling from the last round of teasing. “What now?”

Minho ignored you, turning to Kitty with a grave expression. “Kitty,” he said, voice laced with disappointment. “Where’s the diaper bag?”

Kitty stared at him, unblinking. “The what?”

Minho sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like he was so stressed. “The diaper bag, Kitty.”

Kitty let out the most exasperated groan. “Minho, they are stuffed animals! Why the hell would you need a diaper bag?!”

Minho completely ignored her and reached for an imaginary diaper bag beside the couch. He started “rummaging” through it, his expression getting increasingly more horrified.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Oh my god.”

You covered your mouth, already losing it.

“What?!” Kitty snapped.

Minho looked up at her, pure betrayal written across his face. “Kitty.” He placed a hand over his chest, like what he was about to say physically pained him. “Did you even change their diapers?”

Silence.

Kitty just stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

Minho let out a long, dramatic sigh and shook his head, turning to you. “Y/N… I think our children have been sitting in dirty diapers this entire time.”

Kitty screeched. “THEY. ARE. STUFFED ANIMALS!”

Minho shushed her, rocking Minho Jr. back and forth. “It’s okay, buddy. Daddy’s here now. I won’t let Auntie Kitty neglect you ever again.”

Kitty launched a pillow at his face.

Minho caught it without even flinching and just tossed it aside, still fully committed to the bit.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “My poor, poor kids. Abandoned. Unloved. Sitting in filth.” He dramatically wiped an imaginary tear. “Worst babysitter ever.”

Kitty stood up so fast she nearly tripped over your coffee table. “I AM LEAVING.”

You were crying from laughter at this point, clutching your sides as Kitty stormed toward the door.

Minho called after her, “Don’t forget to leave your babysitting license on the counter! Oh wait you don’t have one anymore.”

The door slammed shut.

And that was the exact moment you completely lost it, doubling over with laughter as Minho grinned victoriously.

“She’s never gonna forgive you for that,” you wheezed.

Minho just smirked, hugging Minho Jr. to his chest. “She’ll be back,” he said confidently. “She loves our kids too much.”

You giggled, wiping at your eyes. “She’s so done with us.”

Minho turned to you, an adorable glint of mischief in his eyes. He shifted closer, draping an arm around your shoulders. “You know,” he said smoothly, playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Since Kitty isn’t here anymore…”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

His smirk deepened. “I was just thinking.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a very suggestive whisper. “Let’s try for another baby.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “WHAT?!”

Minho chuckled, loving the way your face immediately heated up. “Yeah,” he continued, looking completely serious. “I think Minho Jr. and his brother need a little sibling.”

You blinked. Then it hit you.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shoving his shoulder. “You mean another plushie?!”

Minho gasped, feigning offense. “Another plushie?” He scoffed. “Excuse me, they are our kids, Y/N. Have some respect.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “You scared me for a second!”

Minho only grinned, completely unfazed. “So? What do you think? Maybe a little sister this time?” He tapped his chin in mock thought. “Maybe a bunny? Or a big fluffy bear?”

You pretended to consider it, tilting your head. “Hmm… I did see a really cute panda plush at the store the other day…”

Minho’s face lit up. “Say less,” he declared, already grabbing his phone. “We are getting that panda.”

You laughed as he immediately pulled up a shopping app, looking way too serious about his mission.

“Wait, wait,” you teased, tugging at his sleeve. “Are you sure we’re ready for another kid? We just got the last two.”

Minho put a hand over his chest, dramatically serious. “Babe,” he said, completely straight-faced. “I was born to be a dad.”

You lost it, burying your face in his sweatshirt as you laughed.

And just as Minho started adding a panda plush to his cart, your phone dinged with a message from Kitty.

Kitty: I swear to god, if you two adopt another one, I’m reporting you to stuffed animal CPS.

Minho glanced over your shoulder, reading the text. He smirked and immediately typed back:

Minho: Too late. You’re gonna be an aunt again.

You laughed as Kitty sent back an immediate string of angry emojis.

Minho just grinned, kissing the side of your head. “Best parents ever.”

You were struggling.

Kitty had somehow convinced you to help her rearrange her entire room, and at this point, you were seriously questioning how she managed to talk you into this. She was currently sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone, while you were the one moving stuff around like a personal assistant.

“Okay, now push the bookshelf like… two inches to the left,” Kitty instructed lazily, barely glancing up.

You sighed but did as she asked, nudging the heavy bookshelf over. “How’s that?”

Kitty squinted. “Mmm… actually, maybe a little to the right—”

Before you could throw something at her, Minho, who had been sitting on her desk chair eating your snacks, suddenly stood up, clearing his throat. His face turned serious, eyes narrowing at Kitty as he dramatically put his hands on his hips.

“Excuse me,” he said, voice firm.

Kitty barely looked up. “What?”

Minho took a deep breath, shaking his head as if he was deeply disappointed. “You do realize that my girl is pregnant, right?”

You froze mid-movement. “…What?”

Kitty blinked. “…Come again?”

Minho crossed his arms. “Pregnant.” He gestured toward you. “She shouldn’t be doing all this work! She can’t be carrying heavy things or running around. You should be doing it! So get your butt up and help.”

Kitty stared at him. Then at you. Then back at him. “Minho,” she deadpanned. “Are you stupid?”

You groaned, shaking your head. “Minho, I am not pregnant.”

Minho gasped dramatically. “Babe.” He clutched his chest like you had wounded him. “How could you say that about our baby panda?”

Kitty let out the loudest, most frustrated groan. “Oh my god.”

Minho ignored her, placing a gentle hand on your stomach. “Shh, baby, don’t listen to Mommy,” he cooed, pretending to rub your nonexistent baby bump. “She’s just tired from carrying you all day.”

You shoved his hand away, dying from laughter. “Minho, it’s a stuffed animal.”

He gasped again, even louder this time. “How dare you talk about our unborn child like that?” He turned to Kitty with pure disappointment. “And you! You’re making a pregnant woman do hard labor! Shame on you!”

Kitty, looking like she was on the verge of throwing something at him, slowly sat up. “Minho.”

“Yes?”

She grabbed a pillow and hurled it at his face.

He caught it effortlessly, smirking. “Wow. Violence in front of our child? Terrible influence, Auntie Kitty.”

Kitty screamed into her hands. “I hate you.”

Minho just grinned, wrapping his arms around you. “Come on, babe. You’ve done enough. Let’s go home and rest for the baby’s sake.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you toward the door. “Kitty, good luck with your own room.”

Kitty threw another pillow at the both of you as you left, yelling, “I HOPE YOUR KID THROWS UP ON YOU!”

As soon as you and Minho stepped outside Kitty’s room, you burst into laughter, playfully shoving his arm. “You are so ridiculous,” you giggled, wiping away a stray tear from laughing so hard.

Minho just grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close as you walked down the hallway. “Ridiculously devoted to our unborn child, you mean.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “Minho, for the last time, it’s a stuffed panda!”

He let out a dramatic sigh, looking at you like you just didn’t get it. “And? Does that make them any less of our child?”

You gave him a look. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Minho pouted, nudging you playfully. “I can’t believe you’d say that. Poor little Panda is in there, waiting to be brought home, and you’re already denying them.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible.”

Minho smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “And yet, you love me.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning into him. “Unfortunately.”

[sapphiresaphics]

Alright, let’s do this.

Part 1 because this video is 2 hours long and I can barely get through 20 mins without breaking down all the ways this video is not only wrong but grossly misrepresenting the source material.

LET’S GO!

Starts off on shaky grounds by complaining that Vi being in the enforcer uniform in the trailers for season 2 bugged her. Uses the term “copaganda” to describe it, despite that’s NOT what Arcane is about or supports. So we’re off to a good start huh?

Then they start by defining the terms for liberal and conservatism. Okay, that’s fine. If you’re gonna talk about these things you need to make sure everyone is on the same page.

During the description of how Season 1 begins they make the claim that Arcane is about these two sisters and that season 2 fails in this regard. This is a frustrating remark because Arcane IS about these two sisters. It follows their journey all the way through the show and both begins and ends with Vi and the song sung here.

BUT… they are not the ONLY main characters. And if they were the main characters they must be doing something wrong cuz Vi disappears entirely for 2 whole episodes across BOTH seasons. So rather than see Season 1 and 2 as two halves of a whole, you’re starting off with a bias that there’s a split and that season 1 is better than 2 inherently. I despise this leading commentary in an analysis video, but let’s see where we go from here. We’re only 8:40 into the video so it can’t be that bad, right?

10:11 wait… what’s wrong with brothels? You gonna come back to that weird throwaway line?

12:00 alright, yes… this is basically just explaining what the conflict is between the two cities. Many of the writers have stated that the central theme of the show is the cycle of violence, so having a conflict between these two cities makes senses. Where I think you screw up though is you seem to think this is a story about the left overcoming the right, instead of a background setting for the characters to be thrust against.

12:30 uh… Caitlyn DOES react to it though? That’s her whole questioning of Vi is about. She’s trying to figure out why Vi is there if there’s nothing recorded. It’s her first taste of the corruption she’s been oblivious to. And it’s odd enough that she feels sympathy for Vi and her situation. Don’t gloss over that.

12:50 okay but that’s not a fair comparison? If Vi HAD been processed normally and gotten a fair trial she likely would’ve been in a cell with a bed and all that stuff too. Markus DELIBERATELY BURIED her to cover his own skin. As commented on later “Markus felt it was more of a mercy to lock her up than to kill her.” The corruption surrounding Vi is UNIQUE to Vi. That’s WHY Caitlyn comments on it.

Noticing a lot of casual negativity being tossed around in here too. Suggesting Shimmer is the only form of medicine Zaun has is WILD and WRONG, but fine, let’s let it slide for now…

“Why Season 1 seemed Leftist”

Oh boy, that’s a title… alright whatcha got?

13:34 “ive given a detailed recap of what Season 1 says about Piltover and Zaun.” Actually… no you didn’t. You laid out the conflict and the story… but you said NOTHING about what this actually means. Describing police brutality isn’t a detailed recap of what the show is saying, you’re just describing plot points. And badly at that as I’ve already pointed out… you’ve said nothing yet.

14:21 “Vi was a burgeoning little revolutionary in Act 1” woah woah woah… slow down there, no she wasn’t. Vi has NEVER cared about revolution. What she WANTS and what she VOICES is that she wants Powder to have a better life than hers. She wants her family to be safe, and she’s foolhardy enough to risk her life getting there. And importantly: Vander talks her down from this. Because he’s been where she was. He knows how easily this talk of violence can spiral out of control and take away the people you love. And he asks Vi who she is willing to risk sacrificing for this violence… and when push comes to shove Vi CHOOSES NOT TO START A REVOLUTION because Powder being alive is more important to her. And at NO POINT PAST EPISODE 2 does Vi champion for Zaun’s independence or revolution. FAMILY is all that matters to Vi, so you’ve fundamentally misunderstood her character from the jump.

14:31 calling out the actions of Piltover’s isn’t fermenting a revolution though. She’s holding them accountable for their actions and begging them to change. And when they don’t follow through she falls back on her only method of getting stuff done that she knows… vigilante Justice. Vi has no interest in starting a revolution, she just wants Powder to be safe and taking out Silco is the way she thinks she can do that.

Also, Ekko is an isolationist. He keeps people AWAY from Piltover and Zaun while still benefiting from what they have to offer. He has good intentions, but pretending the conflict isn’t happening isn’t beneficial in the long run (as we will see in season 2).

16:00 “Caitlyn seemed to be going down the path of a character who would play a critical role in Zaun getting equal treatment and independence.” Yeah… that’s called setup. It SEEMS like that’s where she’s going. And If Jinx hadn’t blown up the council building maybe yeah that IS where she would’ve gone…. But the cycle of violence rears its ugly head and everything falls apart. That’s how story progression works. This isn’t a negative, this is just you projecting what you wanted to see happen.

17:10 “Vander believed it was better to submit to Piltover instead of fighting against it.” Uh… no… no he didn’t? Vander didn’t submit to Piltover at all. He made a deal with them. They don’t bother him, he doesn’t bother them. And when push came to shove he refused to give up his people and was steadfast in keeping the peace. That’s not “submitting to Piltover.” Submitting would’ve been giving his people up to maintain peace. And Vander didn’t do that. That’s a BAD READING of what Vander’s politics were.

Is now a bad time to remind everyone this user is a SPONGEBOB RECAP CHANNEL?

“Season 1 vs Season 2”

I have a feeling this is where a lot of my disagreements are gonna come into play…

18:16 you just SKIPPED OVER the fact that Caitlyn was TRYING to maintain the peace and objected to the invasion of Zaun and are intercutting scenes of Caitlyn AFTER the SECOND attack on the memorial with the scenes of BEFORE the attack to lump her in with the council. This is deceptive editing and you are misleading your audience here.

19:24 important key information left out here, the Riktus arrests weren’t sanctioned by Caitlyn or the city of Piltover. That was Ambessa’s men doing it against her wishes, something she SPECIFICALLY CHASTISES Ambessa for doing earlier.

Hey, what are these politics again? You haven’t really said anything is left or right, you’re just assuming that if you recap the story WE WILL KNOW what is or isn’t left and right wing. We are 20 minutes in and you haven’t really detailed the politics at all or explained WHY someone might think something is left or right wing. You had a WHOLE SECTION on it and yet you said nothing? That’s a little odd…

19:43 Caitlyn not using those low level cells is kinda important information, don’t gloss over that.

19:48 “Jinx uses MCU humor.” Oh for fuck’s sake. “MCU humor” is not a real thing. I’ve gone into this in other posts, but the idea that there’s this specific TYPE of humor that ONLY MCU films use is absurd. It also has its origins in right-wing talking points, which is why I called you right-wing when I first saw your initial post. As a leftist you shouldn’t be using the terms the right create to hate on things they despise. If you want more information, the term came about roughly around 2016 when the DC team up movie Justice League bombed at the box office. Right wing fans were angry that Joss Whedon was brought in to fix Zack Snieder’s version of the film and started demanding the “Snieder cut.” Because Snieder is known to be “serious” with his filmmaking and Whedon was from Marvel and is more lighthearted, this idea that any joke or form of lighthearted fun that was added to Justice League was “MCU humor.”

So fuck you as a leftist. You’re using RIGHT WING ideological talking points to back up an argument that the show isn’t “leftist enough?” This is one step away from using right-wing version of the term “woke” unironically.

20:31 “we aren’t told why the Zaunites come back other than seeing enforcers being nice influences them” no.. no that’s not what’s going on there. I’ll cite this as an example because it’s easy for leftists to understand, but segregation, civil war, and the genocide of native Americans were still fresh in peoples minds during WWI and WWII, and yet some of the bravest and best soldiers we had during then were black peoples and native Americans. Native Americans specifically used their native tongue to encode messages that the Nazis couldn’t understand. Why would minorities and people abused by the system of America come to the aid of America when fighting against such a huge foe? It’s not because some of them saw police officers being kind to them. It’s because deep down this is their HOME. For better or worse. And they believe that fighting for their home is more honorable than leaving it to rot and die. I dunno, maybe before passing judgement on these people who came back to defend their homes you consider the historical implications and see what minorities and Native Americans had to say about it their fighting in the wars?

I dunno, maybe it’s cuz you’re young and inexperienced with life it really pisses me off when kids like you imply these people shouldn’t have come back and that they’re some sort of traitors…

20:39 Jesus I can’t even go 8 seconds without you putting your foot in your mouth. Zaun comes to fight IN EARNEST because JINX showed up. Jinx was the symbol of the revolution to Zaunites. So when SHE chooses to fight, they rally behind her. Just like they WANTED to do back in episode 4.

20:51 what you call “being snarky” about Zaunites coming back to save their home from obliteration, I call being grossly disrespectful to the many men and women who gave their lives defending a country that does not have their best interest in mind all the time. Again, segregation was legal and women couldn’t vote during WWII, yet women got jobs and fought for their rights while black and minorities defended a country that only a few decades back had a literal civil war over their rights as property. I do not understand why I need to explain this to you, but I’m guessing school just hasn’t taught you to be respectful to people who sacrifice their lives for the prospect of the greater good.

Like Jesus Christ, how does someone who’s left leaning shit on this? It boggles my mind.

21:10 yeah… that’s the TRAGEDY of Piltover and Zaun. Sevika being added to the council is a COMMENTARY on the theme of the show. Because yes, you ARE supposed to be critical of this decision. You ARE supposed to be mad she’s the only Zaunite there. You ARE supposed to question if this is a bandaid solution that doesn’t really solve anything. Because Piltover and Zaun are ALWAYS going to be in conflict with one another. Piltover and Zaun represent the cycle of violence. What happened before will happen again. The solution to the systemic issues WASN’T solved.

And if you think that’s the show saying that’s a GOOD thing, you really missed the message of the show. Because the message is that we need to break out of the cycle of violence. That we need to NOT follow in these easily trodden footsteps. So Sevika being put on the council as a bandaid solution is a WARNING. It’s telling the audience that this ISN’T how you break out of the cycle. That this is yet another way in which the cycle is going to be allowed to continue.

THIS IS THE SHOW TELLING YOU THIS IS NOT GOOD, and you’re looking at it going “I guess the show thinks this is good?!!!???” Seriously, how do you misinterpret this as “centrist” or not a left leaning message????? The show is DIRECTLY CRITICIZING IT!!! OMG

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Twenty-One

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: Oak for Strength

Summary: The Host Club tries to help Kasanoda. It, of course, does not go as planned.

            “A werewolf! Eek!”

            Tamaki sighed as Bossanova’s appearance in the Host Club once again scared guests off. He had tried to make him cute with cat ears and a waiter’s outfit, but Bossanova’s fearsome expression wasn’t to be softened.

            “They ran away again. Despite being the ultimate healing item, even kitten ears failed,” said Tamaki. “How strange. Kitten ears have been a turn-on for guys since antiquity. Everyone knows that. And Renge said quite passionately that they’re popular with girls these days as well.”

            “Doesn’t that limit our range to Otaku only?” said Haruhi. “I mean, if you’re getting information from just Renge…”

            “I don’t know about turn-ons, but kitten ears might not be enough to counter his evil face,” said Kyoya. As soon as he said it, though, the picture of (Y/N) wearing cat ears went through his head. Cute. No way around it—cute.

            “Yeah, Boss is too soft,” said Hikaru.

            “If we’re gonna do this,” said Kaoru.

            “We need to combine kitten ears and a maid costume,” said the twins in tandem.

            “I see. I should have realized that,” said Tamaki, nodding.

            “That’s even more for maniacs!” cried Bossanova. “Are you guys jerking me around?!”

            “He’s mad! He’s scary!” said the twins.

            “I-I’m sorry,” said Bossanova. “You guys came up with so many operations for my benefit this week, but I feel like people are avoiding me even more. I’m just frustrated.”

            “Don’t worry,” said (Y/N). “It’s not your fault this time. The problem is obviously with the weird ideas they’re coming up with.” They chuckled. “I think that answer is simpler than everyone is making it.

            “No…It’s all my fault for not being able to benefit from their kindness,” said Bossanova. “I don’t look good in kitten ears or angel wings.”

            “Most people don’t wear those regularly,” said (Y/N).

            “But I really want to be a lovable person,” declared Bossanova. “Okay! The maid outfit! I’ll wear it.”

            “…” The twins grinned suddenly. Obviously, they had been teasing. But now they really got to have some fun.

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            “I don’t know what I’m looking at,” said (Y/N). Bossanova had put on the dress, but it was over his uniform, so it was pretty…strange to look at.

            “I doubt we’ll ever have the hosts wear that,” said Kyoya, making a note to himself.

            Knock. “Excuse me.” A blonde boy poked his head in. “Is Master Kasanoda here?” His eyes landed on Bossanova in the maid costume. “M-Master?!”

            “UH?!” Bossanova was mortified, and his face contorted angrily.

            “I-I’m sorry…You’re in the midst of your secret hobby,” said the boy, bowing hastily.

            “What?! This isn’t my hobby!” said Bossanova. “Why did you come here anyway?! Get out!”

            “Please forgive me!” shouted the boy, running out of the room.

            “Bossanova, calm down,” said Haruhi and (Y/N).

            Poor Bossanova put himself in a corner. “I did it again…I hid my embarrassment by lashing out.”

            “Who was that?” said Kyoya.

            “Oh, he’s one of my men, Tetsuya,” said Bossanova. “A year ago he suddenly appearing saying he had to join us no matter what. He’s a hard worker and is always hanging around me, so he’s the one I end up scaring the most.”

            But he still goes to Bossanova. He must actually like him. That’s one more friend than Bossanova realizes he has, thought (Y/N).

            “What a grievous state of affairs,” said Tamaki.

            “I wonder what he came here for…” said Bossanova.

            “Indeed,” said Kyoya, raising a brow.

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            “Mori is being targeting by the paranormal?!” siad Tamaki the next day.

            Mori nodded, and Honey hugged him.

            “He cut his fingers on glass, someone threw a bucket of water at him, and rotten eggs almost hit him, too!” said Honey.

            “That’s not paranormal,” said (Y/N).

            “And there’s more,” said Hikaru. “A flower pot, an encyclopedia, a VCR, a roof tile…”

            “His tile-chop was awesome,” said Kaoru.

            “Mori, are you alright? That’s awful,” said Tamaki.

            “Anyone but Mori could have been seriously hurt,” said Kyoya.

            “Did you break a Jizo statue or something, Mori?” said Kaoru.

            “Or step on Beelzeneff?” said Hikaru.

            “Is Takashi cursed?” said Honey.

            “Hey! This is no time for fooling around,” said Bossanova. “I saw all the incidents myself, and he’s definitely under attack!”

            “No way,” said the twins, waving their hands. “No one can hate Mori.”

            “How can you be sure—”

            The Hosts (most, at least) ignored him.

            “Would you like me to introduce you to an exorcist?” said Kyoya.

            “An exorcism! An exorcism! Yay!” said Honey.

            “No, send for Nekozawa,” said the twins.

            Bossanova gave up and walked out the door. Haruhi frowned and looked at (Y/N). They nodded, giving her leave to follow him while the others continued chatting.

            “So, shall we follow?” said (Y/N).

            “I can’t believe Bossanova doesn’t realize he’s the one under attack, not Mori,” said Honey, smiling.

            “At least it means we can watch him,” said Tamaki.

            “It’s good that you noticed the glass in his locker and got rid of it before he did, Mori,” said Tamaki.

            “He would’ve fought someone and damaged his reputation more,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

            Mori nodded. He helped people who deserved it, and Bossanova had.

            “Where’s Haruhi?” said Tamaki.

            “She wanted to talk to Bossanova,” said (Y/N). “I think it will be good for him.”

            “But what about his enemies?” cried Tamaki.

            “We’ll get them,” said Honey, grinning.

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            “This’ll teach him,” muttered a man, holding up a balloon of paint.

            “Yeah,” agreed a second.

            They threw the paint balloon, and it hit Haruhi instead of Bossanova.

            “Try again,” said one of the men.

            Two long arms swooped down and grabbed them. The men squawked indignantly. “Let go!”

            Mori wasn’t going to.

            “Mori-senpai!” exclaimed Bossanova in surprise.

            “What’s going on?” said Haruhi, looking at (Y/N).

            “We’re just cleaning up some trash,” they said, smiling while Hikaru and Kaoru tied up the troublemakers and Kyoya took a photo.

            “Hey, Kasanoda, you coward!” shouted one man.

            “You kidnapped our boss’s son and then hired a bodyguard!” shouted the second. “You kidnapper! Give our boy back!”

            “What are you talking about?!” said Bossanova, completely blindsided.

            “They were after you the whole time, not Mori,” said (Y/N).

            “We didn’t want to tell you,” said Honey. “You would’ve gotten discouraged! But Takashi found broken glass in your locker yesterday.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” Bossanova looked at Mori. “Instead you helped me…?”

            Mori patted Bossanova on the head, and Bossanova’s eyes widened in surprise at the kind gesture.

            “I know a villain when I see one,” said Mori. “Just be yourself. People who understand you are bound to appear. If you care a lot about your friends, they are sure to understand you. You should realize that.”

            Bossanova’s eyes widened at the honest words. But I don’t have anyone like that—

            “I thought I saw some familiar faces.” Tetsuya stepped out of the trees in the courtyard.

            “Master Tetsuya!” said the men.

            “Master Tetsuya,” repeated (Y/N).

            “Ah,” said Kyoya as they made the connection together.

            Tetsuya glared down at the men. “You play dirty because you don’t have the guts for a straight fight! I left because I couldn’t stand people like you. If you try to hurt Master Kasanoda again…I’ll send you to Hell alive!

            “Tetsuya, you…?” Bossanova trailed off.

            “I’m sorry for not telling you,” said Tetsuya. “I’m the second son of the Tokyo branch of the Sendo family. I’m Tetsuya Sendo. I’m drawn to Master’s personality. I’ve already made up my mind to leave the Sendo family and swear loyalty to the Kasanodas. I’ve always been against the Sendos’ unscrupulous policies. On a rainy day about a year ago, I had a fight with my father and left home. I had no place to go, but I couldn’t go back. Then Master came along and covered me with his umbrella, a total stranger…” Tetsuya smiled fondly at the memory.

            “I did that?” said Bossanova, surprised at himself.

            “Yes, you did. Even if you’ve forgotten, I never well.” Tetsuya’s gaze gently at Bossanova. “I know you like animals. You’re a softie for touching stories and dramatic movies. On the guys’ birthdays you secretly send them a cake. On Christmas you leave presents by our bedside

            “You’ve been doing stuff like that, Bossanova?” said the twins.

            “It looks like he was already doing what he needed to in order to show he cared,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “As usual, Tamaki overcomplicated things,” said Kyoya.

            “Yes, but Mori came through when needed most,” said (Y/N).

            “You are shy and clumsy,” said Tetsuya. “I know it, and everyone in the family knows it as well. We can’t say anything because you’d be embarrassed. As for your scary face, sorry, but I’ll try my best to get used to it.”

            Some things are hopeless, thought (Y/N).

            “I take responsibility for their offense,” said Tetsuya, throwing a glare of the thugs of the Sendo family. “But please.” He bowed. “Allow me to stay by your side!” He straightened. “Oh! And here, I didn’t have a chance to give it to you yesterday, but the weather has been bad lately.” He held out an umbrella. “A spare umbrella! Everyone worries if Master catches cold.”

            “Sorry to interrupt such a touching scene, but you commute by car, so you don’t need one,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

            (Y/N) grabbed them by the collar and dragged them back.

            “Th-That’s right,” said Tetsuya, growing nervous. “I’m sorry.”

            “No!” A heavy blush rested on Bossanova’s cheeks, and he held the umbrella tightly. “Thank you!”

            “Sure!” said Tetsuya, also blushing.

            “All’s well that ends well,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “And Bossanova will cease to bother the Host Club,” said Kyoya, pleased by the development.

            “Oh, I have to apologize to Haruhi,” said Bossanova. “He got covered in paint because of me.”

            “Haruhi is changing clothes,” said Honey helpfully.

            “I’ll go find him. Thanks,” said Bossanova.

            “See you later, Master!” said Tetsuya. “We can play kick the can this afternoon!”

            “Well, we did a good deed,” said Tamaki. “They’ll live happily ever after.”

            “Boss, you didn’t do anything,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

            “Mori was the hero this time,” said Kyoya. “He even had a speech.”

            (Y/N) tilted their head as they watched Bossanova disappear into the building. “Is he going to interrupt Haruhi changing?”

            “To say he’s thankful for the Host Club,” said Tamaki, still delusional about his involvement.

            “…Haruhi is a girl,” said (Y/N).

            The Host Club froze. Haruhi!

            “Haruhi! We’re coming to save you!” Tamaki took off running, tailed by Hikaru and Kaoru.

            “It’s too late, isn’t it?” said (Y/N), wincing

            Kyoya sighed. “Yes.” Still, there was little to do but follow after everyone to salvage the situation as they could.

            Sure enough, when the Hosts arrived at Music Room 3, it was too late. Bossanova stood outside the door with a shocked look on his face. The door was closed again, but he had seen Haruhi was a girl.

            “So you saw…” said Hikaru and Kaoru, appearing behind Bossanova with dark expressions.

            Tamaki looked like he was spiraling into space, nearly fainting.

            “U-Uh?!” Bossanova wasn’t used to fear, just embarrassment, but he was certainly feeling it now.

            “You saw? How much? You saw Haruhi’s modest body? You creep,” said the twins, advancing on Bossanova.

            “Bossanova…” said Honey. “I think perverts are scum…”

            Bossanova’s jaw dropped open.

            “Now what, Hikaru? He found out Haruhi’s secret,” said Kaoru.

            “We have no choice,” said Hikaru.

            Kaoru grabbed Bossanova, and Hikaru grabbed a bat from nowhere. “We beat the memory out of him!”

            “Cut that out,” said Kyoya. “Covering up a crime would be troublesome.”

            “I think a couple of hits are in order for not knocking before entering where someone is changing,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms.

            Bossanova flinched as Hikaru raised the bat again.

            “No, we have other matters to attend to,” said Kyoya.

            “How can you be so calm?!” said the twins. “You should’ve realized sooner that Haruhi was getting changed.”

            “We all should have,” said Kyoya.

            “Look!” Kaoru pointed at Tamaki. “Due to the shock, the boss is a mere hollow shell of a man! We refused to deal with him when he’s like that!”

            “I don’t want to,” said Kyoya. “But Bossanova found out Haruhi is a girl, so we need to confer. Mr. Kasanoda—”

            So we do know his name and just ignore it, thought (Y/N).

            “—Haruhi is in the special situation of having to hide the fact that she’s a girl,” said Kyoya. “The reason she is in the Host Club is to present herself at a boy.”

            Most of this is kind of true.

            “We don’t have the right to forbid you to tell anyone, but would you be so kind as to consider what would happen should not only the Ootori family but also the families of the other club members become your foes, hm?” said Kyoya. An insidious aura radiated from him despite the smile.

            “Hey.” Haruhi, fully dressed, stepped outside the room. “Stop threatening Casanova.” Bossanova averted his gaze in embarrassment as she approached. “I’m sorry I surprised you, Casanova. I don’t mind if you tell. I’m completely fine with that.”

            An audible crack echoed through the room as Tamaki collapsed in shock.

            (Y/N) sighed. What was going to come next? Would he tell or would he keep her secret?

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