#i think i still have one of the notebooks

[kashverse]

sukuna was relieved that dinosaurs were extinct. not because he feared them. no—if dinosaurs were still around, he was convinced babykuna would have asked for one as a pet. and considering they already had mr pickles, a fat maine coon who took up more space than necessary, sukuna did not need a t-rex running around the house. but it turns out, dinosaurs are the new hyperfixation. because babykuna had been drawing. and with a proud flourish, she presented her latest masterpiece to you.

“mama, look!” she beamed. “it’s all of us!”

you took the paper, studying it carefully. it was…something.

mr pickles was drawn the size of a mountain, looking strangely reptilian, and on his mighty back sat three figures. you, sukuna, and babykuna herself. “is… is this us riding mr pickles?” you asked, impressed by the sheer creativity.

babykuna nodded enthusiastically.

sukuna peered over your shoulder, rubbing his chin. “so you’re saying if dinosaurs were real, you’d rather ride the damn cat?”

“mr pickles is special.” babykuna huffed.

sukuna scoffed but before he could argue further, she whipped out another drawing. this one had him depicted as a dinosaur, spewing fire, his arms comically tiny compared to his body. and right next to it? the word "FUCK" hastily scribbled out as if the artist was trying to cover up evidence of a crime.

sukuna stared.

“…what the hell is this?”

“your dinosaur form!” babykuna chirped, proud of her creation.

you were already wheezing, but the real kicker? there was a drawing of you next to sukuna’s disaster of a dinosaur. and it was perfect. like, disturbingly accurate—hair detailed, outfit immaculate, expression soft yet regal. compared to sukuna’s dinosaur, which looked like a rough draft from a caveman’s notebook.

sukuna’s eye twitched.

“okay, hold on. why does mama get a masterpiece while i look like a half-eaten turkey leg?”

babykuna gasped. “papa, don’t be rude to dinosaur you!”

“dinosaur me looks like he gave up on life halfway through.”

you, laughing, ruffled babykuna’s hair. “i think it’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

babykuna beamed. sukuna grumbled. mr pickles, the real-life dinosaur substitute, stretched lazily across the floor, clearly thriving.

[htaesan]

　��� ✿　ᅠ NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your ex, seemingly sweet anton, spreads malicious rumours about you that could potentially ruin your entire academic weapon career, so you have to take desperate measures𑁋and that includes a fake-dating contract and the bane of your existence, han taesan.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 13k ⠀ genre college au fluff angst if you squint one sided rivals to lovers academic weapon x campus crush ⠀ contains mentions of food vulgar words skinship pet names several ocs ⠀ note i’m sorry if this fic is.. all over the place a bit coz,, yea!! but this fic is highly.. self-indulgent.. heheh! and i originally wanted to make this more angsty but i’m already sad and single so, No! anyways, enjoy reading ^_^ ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“ALRIGHT. Let’s do it.”

As you gaze into Taesan’s determined eyes, the entire series of events flashes through your mind. 

It was back in your first year of university—early winter, the day of the first snowfall. You were walking towards the three-floor library, the cold wind stinging your eyes. You rushed inside, grateful for the gush of artificial warm air that greeted you as soon as the doors closed behind you. The library was quite packed for some reason, and you could barely spot any empty seats.

You walked towards the edge of the library, a corner with the largest window of the level. There it was—one of the only empty seats in the entire library—but that seat was next to a boy, heavily occupied with his studies. Your pace slowed down as you hesitated. The boy had a focused blank look on his face, his headphones on, and several papers and notebooks were scattered on the table around him.

You felt like you wanted to just leave and go back to your room, but remembering how cold it was outside, you decided against it. 

After taking a deep breath, you approached him. With a shaky smile, you tapped the boy’s shoulder, muttering a silent prayer. 

“Excuse me,” you said as he lowered his headphones to his neck. “May I sit here? I-I mean, if it’s cool with you..”

He simply nodded. “Sure.”

You had sat down next to the mysterious boy for the entire day, not knowing that, in the present, he would be the bane of your existence. 

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan” Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

“Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

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IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

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THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

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“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

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“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

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IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

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“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

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THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you. 

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

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AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into your hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

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DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

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AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

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THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

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DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it���s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

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THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

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THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

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A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[lookingforuravity]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

♫ now playing - the only exception by paramore

bakugou x reader

word count: 1,827 words

IN WHICH each time your friends caught bakugou only being nice to you.

a/n: still 'fool for you' just changed the title (≧ω≦)

“i've never seen him so.. calm.”

“right? he's always so uptight.”

the two friends were peering over the couch as they watched bakugou and y/n sleep soundlessly. there was a serene look drawn on his face while he held y/n closely to him, her hand resting softly on his chest as their chests rose up and down simultaneously.

“how come he's so much nicer to her than any of us?” kirishima complained with a pout stitched on his lips. he'd been friends with bakugou way before (two months) him and y/n got together. where was his special treatment?

“they're dating duh. why wouldn't he be nice to her?” mina replied as gazed at the couple with a soft gaze in her eyes. their young, teenage love was truly admirable.

even if bakugou seemed to have a stick up his ass 24/7.

the couple twitched softly in their sleep. it had been a long and stressful day of endless amounts of training, and lord knew that they both needed a break. a thin blanket was all that covered their bodies, but anybody could make out the way bakugou held her waist and the way y/n laid her hand on his chest underneath the sheet.

the usually quiet library turned into a circus as it filled up with bakugou's grumbling, denki's whines, and y/n's giggling. the sight of bakugou repeatedly smacking denki on the head with rolled up paper was an entertaining sight to distract her from her note-taking.

“are you seriously this stupid?” bakugou growled as he peered over the blonde's notebook, erasing and scribbling over any mistakes he made. denki pouted while rubbing his head on the spot that bakugou smacked. “c'mon.. it's really not that easy!” denki whined.

bakugou's vermillion eyes narrowed at denki. “it's basic algebra! how did you even get this far if you can't do simple math?!” he snapped.

denki continued to pout as he grumbled under his breath, something about bakugou lacking basic respect.

“uh.. katsuki?” y/n called out hesitantly.

though he still kept the glare on his face, the way his body language softened was visible, and how his tone contrasted from denki to her was plain obvious. “what?”

she turned over her notebook towards him so he can see her work. “i think i did it wrong.. can you check it?”

bakugou grabbed her notebook and skimmed over her work. “yeah.. here, let me explain.” he leaned over closer to her, close enough to where she can smell caramel on his skin.

denki's mouth fell agape as he watched how the guy went from raising hell on him to looking like he was practically skipping in a field of flowers inside his head. “that is SO not fair! how come you're so much nicer to her than me?!”

“cause she's not an idiot! keep working!”

it was far past midnight, and it was already one thing that izuku couldn't sleep, but on an empty stomach? it made it far much worse. he tried everything in the book from counting sheep to counting his breaths, but nothing could beat his racing mind and the sound of his stomach growling.

izuku didn't want to disturb anyone, but would it really hurt if he just tip-toed to the common room? he sighed as he ran his hand through his curly green hair, quietly making his way to the kitchen to not wake anyone.

but as he walked through the common room, a taller figure appeared in front of him.

“GAH!” he yelped, hastily smacking a hand over his mouth as he realized how loud he'd screamed. “shoto!” he half-whispered. “what are you doing?!”

todoroki stood still, his expression unwavering. “i couldn't sleep.” his direction turned towards the kitchen. “i wanted to get a snack, but i think someone is in there.” he said.

that's odd. it was almost one in the morning, and the only people that izuku thought could be awake fell asleep ages ago. he asked todoroki who it was but he only shrugged, showing he only heard the person but never checked who it was.

he never thought he'd be met with the sight of bakugou resting his chin on y/n's shoulder as she made them snacks.

“at 12:47 in the morning? that's way past bakugou's bedtime…” todoroki muttered under his breath.

bakugou's tone was softer, softer than anyone had ever heard besides y/n herself. “you better not burn it.” he huffed.

y/n giggled, slightly turning her head to face his side profile. “i'm not going to burn our snacks,” she assured. “i'm an expert.”

“expert my ass.”

“hey!”

izuku and todoroki looked like a deer in headlights looking at the scene before them. they wanted to walk away, believe them, they really did. but the sight of bakugou being so domestic was such a rare and amusing sight to see.

“do we… leave?” izuku suggested.

“i don't know…” todoroki answered. “this is really weird.”

bakugou’s head shot up from her shoulder and turned to look at the two voices faster than the speed of light. his ruby eyes were narrowed as he glared them down as his lips curled. “the hell are you guys doing?”

izuku's hands flapped around in a panic. “w-we were just about to leave! i swear-”

“you're very affectionate, bakugou” todoroki said, as blunt as ever.

“shut up!” he yelled, his face turning as a red as a tomato and his hair puffed up. y/n giggled once again at the dramatic scene that laid in front of her. “do you guys want snacks too?” she offered.

“why are you giving our food to extras?” “suki!”

brutal wasn't even the word to describe today's training session. everyone was curled up on the ground, hands over their stomach as it even hurt to breathe. the sounds that filled the room were heavy breathing and complaints. and y/n— was nowhere to be found.

mina, jirou, and ochaco all wandered the hallways, a worried look etched on their face as they searched for their friend. “i'm really worried about her y'know.” mina was the first one to break the silence.

both girls nodded in agreement.

“so am i,” ochaco said. “she just disappeared right after training ended.”

the trio kept wandering the halls, looking in every corner and every turn where y/n could be hiding.

suddenly, through the glass window, they see their little y/c haired friend sitting on the bench, with her fingers intertwined on her lap and her head hung low.

“there she is!” jirou yelled, quickly running to the nearest door to go outside and get y/n while the other two girls trailed closely behind her.

but something made them stop dead in their tracks. the closer they got to the window, the more they were able to see someone elses silhouette sat next to her.

“is that bakugou?”

bakugou's arm was wrapped securely around y/n's shoulders, intently listening to her rambling about whatever she needed to get off her chest.

“i did really bad today.” she mumbled, her voice filled with sadness and frustration.

“and that’s okay.” bakugou comforted her. “one bad doesn't mean you suck. everyone has bad days.” he reassured her, rubbing light circles on her shoulders.

y/n shrugged, playing and picking at her fingers as they rested on her lap. “i just think i’m weak, y’know?” she mumbled once again.

“you're not- hey. look at me.” bakugou squished her cheeks and turned her head to face his. “stop. you think i'd be talking to you like this if you're so weak? hm?”

“no?” she muffled due to how much bakugou was squishing her face.

“exactly. you're strong, so stop putting yourself down because of one off day and keep training.”

“you're hurting my cheeks.”

bakugou let go of her face, lightly patting her cheeks as an apology. “my point is, one bad day doesn't mean you're weak. think about every other time you've kicked ass.”

y/n laughed softly, her face changing from what looked like a kicked puppy to her usual grin. “thank you suki.” she said.

“this is the cutest thing I've ever seen.” mina whispered while clenching her shirt where her heart is tightly.

“who knew the pomeranian could be such a romantic?” jirou teased as ochaco and mina giggled along side of her.

bakugou lightly ruffled the top of y/n's hair, lightly blushing from the way she looked at him with such a lovestruck glance. “you're strong. don't start with that ‘i'm weak’ shit cause i won't hear it.”

“you're so sweet when you want to be.”

“now you're pushing it.”

“why are you only nice to me?” the question caught katsuki off guard.

the couple had been in y/n's dorm room simply sitting in silence, with their legs entangled together and the light noise of the TV playing in the background.

he turned his head slightly to face her, their eyes meeting instantly as she was already looking at him so softly. “why wouldn't i be?” katsuki questioned as his fingers lightly played with her hair.

y/n shrugged, not having a response to his question. it just seemed out-of-character for him. he was the type of person to not let anyone change him, good or bad.

but the crude boy would come to be a puddle of sap when it came to her. even if it wasn't obvious verbally, the ways his eyes softened when they laid upon her was enough said.

“i asked you a question first.” she retorted.

katsuki exhaled sharply, his gaze turning from her to the ceiling as his heart rate sped up a bit. “you're just.. different.”

y/n's eyebrows raised slightly as a smirk stitched itself onto her face. she scooted closer to katsuki's side, leaning her head on his bicep as she stared lovingly at his side profile. “i'm.. different? there's more to that, isn't there?”

“of course there is. you just don't get to know that stuff right now.”

y/n knew that katsuki wasn't one to talk about his feelings. she wasn't looking to change that. but the simple thought of him just looking at her differently from the rest, like shes the only person in every room, made her heart flutter.

“don't think i'm getting soft though.” katsuki grumbled, an arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer.

“you're just… the only exception.”

©LOOKINGFORURAVITY 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

TAGLIST: @kaerotica @sweetlike-sugarplum @misfortvne @iridescencefae @awesomesauce-oo @kalulakunundrum

[astralis-is-typing]

Better with you beside me

⚝fic type: slice of life

⚝genre/contains: seungmin x gn!reader, college!au, fluff, comfort, established relationship, domestic af lol

⚝word count: 1.9k

⚝inspo: "Only" by LeeHi, and a prompt from this post by @novelbear

“Can we get stop by the café on our way back?” You groaned, sneakers dragging across the white tiles of the packed stationery store. Your boyfriend leaned closer, trying to catch your words over the din. You tilted your face towards him, repeating your words closer to his ear.

“There’s food back at your dorm,” Seungmin replied matter-of-factly, tutting at your forgetfulness and playfully flicking your forehead. “We made sandwiches before we left, remember?”

“That’s a whole train ride away,” you sighed dramatically, throwing your head back and rubbing your grumbling stomach for good measure.

“Okay, okay,” Seungmin conceded with faux exasperation, but the amused glint in his eyes was a dead giveaway. “We’ll grab brownies or something once we’re out of here.” He took your hand in his and gave a gentle tug, urging you through the aisle at a faster pace. A toppling stack of binder files narrowly missed his head, but he dodged out of the way just in time. “For now, can we get a move on?”

You grumbled a noncommittal reply, interlocking your cold fingers with his warm ones as you quickly sidestepped the sea of orange and purple files now scattered across the floor. Seungmin reached into the back pocket of his jeans and unfurled the battered shopping list that held your list of supplies. Almost every item jotted down in fading blue ink had been crossed off; it was a testament to the errand nearly complete.

You gripped the handles of the heavy plastic shopping basket tighter, the heap of notebooks, pens, and other supplies making your arm ache in protest as you weaved through the throng of bodies. Like everyone else in here, you’d waited till the very last minute to get everything you needed before the semester started next week.

“A coffee would do me wonders,” you murmured, eyes wearily scanning the packed checkout lines.

“I think everyone in here could say the same,” Seungmin chuckled, a cheeky smile playing on his lips as he took in your worn-out state.

The store was packed with baggy-eyed college students, who no doubt had spent these final days before the start of the semester catching up on work they should’ve completed over the winter break.

The two of you finally made it to the front of the long queue, Seungmin swatting your hand away as you tried giving your card to the cashier. She smiled softly as your boyfriend insisted on paying on your behalf.

“You forget that you’re also a broke college student,” you say, glaring at Seungmin as he thanked the cashier with a small smile and ushered you out of the store.

“Semi-broke,” he quipped, cooing at the expression on your face and poking your side. “You forget that ‘After School Club’ actually makes bank. Felix and Jeongin would’ve bailed out a long time ago if it didn’t.”

“Still,” you sighed, glare evaporating at the mention of Seungmin’s hilarious podcast. “I’d saved up for this stuff, you didn’t have to pay for me.”

The banter between the two of you carried on, bumping into each other every so often as you walked on. Making good use of Seungmin’s distraction, you managed to steer him all the way into your favourite café. Knowing him though, you suspected he could tell where you were leading him and simply let you have your way.

“Just one cappuccino,” you negotiated, left foot inching towards the café’s entrance. Seungmin noticed this and chuckled fondly, nudging it back into position with his own foot.

“You’re really something else.” He sighed, but made no move to argue.

“Is that a yes?” You asked in glee, the weight of your purchases forgotten as you happily swung your shopping bag at your side.

“No coffee though— you know what it does to you,” Seungmin said, shaking his head at your antics. “Get a hot cocoa or some tea. Same for me. You go ahead, I forgot I need to get something.”

“Okay, deal!” Smug from your supposed victory, you didn’t notice the way Seungmin’s lips quirked upwards as you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and walked into the café with a slight spring in your step.

—

It didn’t take long for you to find a cozy little corner to people watch after you placed your to-go order. The familiar scent of freshly baked pastries was a comforting contrast to the disorienting array of perfumes and colognes that bombarded your senses in the stationery store. You took a deep breath, sinking into the plush chair and allowing yourself to momentarily zone out. Contentment came easily these days; simply taking in the low music playing through the café’s speakers or the mellow chatter of groups sitting around tables in twos and threes did you a world of good. To simply exist for a few moments, not particularly focusing on anything.

Seungmin came back just after the waiter at the counter had called out your order. You rested your arms on the counter and watched him walk in as the waitress double-checked your receipt. His light brown bangs fell slightly over his eyes, and he absentmindedly feathered them back into place as he casually strolled over to you at the counter.

“Ready to head back?” He asked, adjusting the tote bag on his shoulder.

“All set!” you confirmed with a nod, hands each balancing your shopping bag and your order.

“We’re not going to get very far like this,” Seungmin teased with a laugh, taking the small box of brownies from you and plopping it into his tote bag before relieving you of your loaded shopping bag.

“Aren’t you the man?” you teased back. Seungmin pulled a silly face at you in response, and you nearly dropped the two cups of hot cocoa you were holding from laughing.

—

“We’re literally four hundred meters from the train station,” Seungmin huffed incredulous. He bit back a laugh at how you were hunched over, empty cups in hand.

Shaking his head, Seungmin took the cups from you and tossed them into a nearby recycle bin before returning to simply stand by your side, arms crossed as he waited for you to recover.

The two of you must’ve been quite the sight— you, bent forward and groaning dramatically, while Seungmin stood stoically beside you, his expression deadpan.

“Piggyback ride,” you demanded, straightening back up with an exaggerated sigh.

“You’ve got to be insane!” Seungmin exclaimed. “The train station is right there.”

“No more,” you protested, shaking your head. “You said that ten minutes ago. Now, piggyback ride!” You clapped your hands once, stepping behind your wide-eyed boyfriend and patting his broad shoulders. “My feet are killing me,” you whined.

“Lazy,” Seungmin quipped, before sighing in defeat and letting you jump onto his back like a human backpack.

Grinning brightly at your small triumph, you ruffled his hair in thanks as your aching feet left the ground. Kim Seungmin was a tough man to beat, definitely seeing right through your exaggerated exhaustion. But he let you win anyway. Just because it was you.

—

The train rattled on, and you periodically turned to the window, letting the fading warmth of the sunset kiss your face one last time. Outside, the scenery blurred past in streaks of colour and light as you and Seungmin sat side by side, playing tic-tac-toe on a forgotten scrap of paper you had found on your seat. After yet another draw, Seungmin gave up, stuffing his pen into the front pocket of his jeans.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffed, playfully reprimanding you. “You use the same infuriating tactics every single time.”

“Hey! It’s the only way to play the game,” you argued in your defense, laughing at his despair.

“You always try trap me by placing your ‘X’ at the same corner!”

“What do you want me to do? Start at the middle?” Your face twisted in mock horror. Such a rookie mistake was far beneath your prowess.

Seungmin tutted at you, giving up before the argument could even begin. “You’re so stubborn,” he grumbled— then immediately blamed himself for it, claiming you’d picked up the trait from hanging out with him. With a sigh, he leaned in, wiggling his fingers in front of your eyes as if he wanted to poke them.

You barely reacted, of course.

It was one of his many odd habits, something you’d grown accustomed to long ago. You still remembered his first ever visit to your dorm, when he’d attacked your plushies, pressing his fingertips into their button eyes and laughing maniacally as if it were the funniest activity known to man.

So, it didn’t come as a surprise now when, instead of flinching, you instinctively shut your eyes and let the soft pads of his fingertips rest gently against your eyelids. You had long since stopped caring how this unorthodox display of affection might look to passersby.

It was moments like these when you felt most at peace.

The stillness of quiet steady love made time stop for just a second. And that was enough to restore structure to your chaos.

Seungmin was your small but certain happiness, the subtleties of his love a constant reassurance that carried you through the longest of days.

“By the way, I got you something,” he said quietly. A rare, shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he fretted with your coat, reaching beneath the collar to tug out the bunched-up hood of your zip-up hoodie. You hadn’t even noticed that small discomfort, but he had.

Briefly acknowledging his help with a smile, you tilted you head, intrigued.

Seungmin reached into the depths of his tote bag beside him and turned back to you with red ears. “Here.” He held out a box to you. “I... got you headphones. So you can, you know, zone out in peace.”

Your breath caught.

There was silence for a beat, then another, and in this void you began to notice every other sound around you— the rhythmic click-clack of the wheels on the tracks, the soft hum of the engine beneath your seats. The rustle of a newspaper as someone nearby turned a page, the snippets of distant conversations that had previously blended into white noise.

You tried to sync your breathing with the train’s rhythm, grounding yourself as you processed what Seungmin had just said.

How well he knew you.

Seungmin, ever perceptive, understood your quiet. “I noticed how you get overwhelmed after… interacting so much,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “So, here’s a way to slow down. I hope…”

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in his words. “It’s perfect.”

Beyond that, words failed you. All you could manage was pull him into a hug.

Seungmin welcomed it with a small chuckle, the sound muffled as his cheek was squished against the fabric of your coat. Your scent was familiar, an unspoken invitation that eased the last of his lingering anxieties about whether you’d like his gift.

He looked up at you from this angle, admiring the gentle curve of your smile. “I hope they make your semester easier,” he murmured earnestly. Then, adding with a mischievous grin. “And you needed to let those ancient earphones go.”

You rolled your eyes, classic Seungmin. You swatted his hair lightly as you released him from your hold. “But you already do.” Your voice softened. “Make my days easier, I mean.”

Seungmin smirked at that. “Don’t you ever worry,” he said. “You’re stuck with me for the long run. We’ll be alright.”

© astralis-is-typing 2025. Plagiarism is strictly prohibited. This is my intellectual property. Do NOT repost or translate my work on tumblr, wattpad, or any other platform.

⚝A/N: So excited to be back to writing fanfics! Last time I posted on here was like, August of 2023. I've grown a lot since then haha, both as a writer and as a person (I hope). Thank you for reading <3 I hope this story finds someone who's as obsessed with "Only" as I am lol.

[escha-ashengrotto]

His Small But Intimate Gestures

Azul Ashengrotto x GN!Reader

Summary: Azul and his subtle, physical affections for you.

Notes: Established relationship. Azul calls you "sweetheart".

A/N: I wrote this in second person POV but this was actually originally written with Eszul dynamic in mind. I was thinking of my ship when I wrote this a few months back for inspiration. I saw this in my drafts once more and decided to finally upload it :)

Azul brushing your hair out of your face.

You were busy writing on your notebook, comparing the details of your notes to the information on the book in front of you. You were so focused with studying that you didn't pay attention to the stray strands of hair falling to your face. Except for that silver-haired person sitting beside you. His gloved hand reached out to you, brushing the strands of hair away from your face.

"Your hair is getting in the way," Azul said gently as he tucked the stray hairs behind your ear before smiling at you. "There. Now I get to see your beautiful face again."

Azul blowing something out of your eye.

"Ah! Zul. Zul, help!!" You cried out to him. You were walking together with Azul when a strong wind passed by and something got caught in your eye.

"What happened? Why are you crying?!" He asked worriedly at the sudden change in your mood.

"There's something in my eye. It hurts!!"

Azul immediately stepped closer to you, placing his thumb and index finger around your eye. "I'm going to blow on it, okay? One. Two.."

His fingers opened your eye as he blew on it to get the irritant out. "Is it gone??"

You sniffled but felt that the foreign object was gone. "I think so? It doesn't hurt as much anymore. Thank you."

Blinking and gaining more awareness of your surroundings, you realized Azul's face was very close to yours. You felt yourself blushing from the close proximity while Azul took notice of your reaction and smiled teasingly at you.

"I think there's still something in your eye. Let me try again," he said as he inched even closer to you, taking delight in your cute, flustered expression.

Azul leaning his forehead against yours.

You were just relaxing in bed when you suddenly felt Azul's arms wrapped around you from behind.

"Y/N~" He called out to you.

"Zul?" You turned around to face him. "What's wrong?"

He leaned his face closer to yours until your foreheads were touching. You heard a soft sigh escape his lips as he closed his eyes in a relaxed state.

"Azul?"

"Nothing sweetheart. I just.. wanted to be close to you."

Azul stroking your cheek.

You were sharing a story with Azul, talking quite animatedly with the way your hands moved around and your face being so expressive. Azul was completely enamoured by you and couldn't help raising his hand to caress your face. His bare hand made contact with your skin, gliding his fingers gently across your cheek. The moment he did though, he noticed you stopped. A faint blush dusted your cheeks.

"Hm? Why'd you stop?" He asked curiously.

"You know why," you pouted.

"Does it bother you?"

"..no."

"Then keep going, my sweetheart. As you were saying?"

His fingers continued to stroke your cheek affectionately as you resumed your tale. He noticed the brighter shade of pink adorning your cheeks caused by his touch and Azul felt pleased with himself at how you looked so adorable like that all because of him.

Azul whispering into your ear.

"Can I tell you something?" Azul asked.

You darted your eyes to his and saw there was some mischief hidden in those ocean blue irises.

"Hmm.. you're planning something."

"Oh, it's nothing bad I can assure you. I simply wish to tell you something. Won't you indulge me in my request?"

There was something about the way he talked and the way his lips curved into a smile. A devious smile. Still you took the bait, curious on what he was going to say.

"Alright! So what is it?"

He leaned forward to have his mouth close to your ear before whispering, "I love you," and planting a kiss to the outer shell of your ear.

Your entire face felt hot as you blushed deeply. Your hands immediately went to your face and though your eyes were covered, you knew for sure that Azul had that handsome smirk on his face.

Masterlist here!

If you enjoyed this: likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

[kaiyunsim]

heavy —

pairing : classmate!riku x gn!reader

summary : a sleepy riku catches your eye during class, so you decide to help him catch up.

warning : fluff, VERY sleepy riku, idk he’s just really cute

a/n : something from my drafts as i take my break. ilysm riku pls come back. (he’s my nct ult).

queueing : heavy - the marías

— wc : 1.0k — not proof read —

it starts with riku nodding off again. his head dips lower and lower, dark lashes fluttering against his cheek as he fights a losing battle with sleep. you're sitting two rows behind him, and you can see the way his pen slowly slides out of his grip until it clatters to the desk, startling him awake for a moment. he blinks around in confusion, mumbles something under his breath, and then, just like that, he’s out again.

this isn’t a rare occurrence. maeda riku is known for being the sleepy one in class, always managing to snag a seat by the window so he can rest his head against the cool glass. at first, you’d thought it was just laziness or boredom, but over time, you’ve realized it’s just part of who he is. naturally laid-back, with a tendency to doze off whenever things get too quiet. and honestly, you find it kind of endearing. there’s something almost peaceful about the way he naps, like he’s perfectly content in his own little world.

still, you can’t help but feel a little bad for him when it means he misses parts of the lecture. the teacher’s voice drones on, oblivious to riku’s half-conscious state, and when the class finally ends, riku jerks awake with a sharp inhale, looking around as if trying to piece together where he is. his notebook is mostly blank except for a few messy scribbles at the top of the page.

as everyone files out of the classroom, you linger by your desk, watching him. he’s rubbing his eyes now, yawning so wide it makes your jaw ache in sympathy. before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your notes and walk over to him.

"hey," you say softly, not wanting to startle him. he looks up, eyes a little glassy from sleep. up close, you notice the faint crease on his cheek where he must’ve leaned against his arm.

"oh, hey," he says, voice scratchy. "did class end already?"

"yeah," you reply, holding out your notes. "i thought you might need these. you seemed pretty tired."

his eyes widen slightly as he looks at the papers in your hand. "oh, uh, thanks. but you don’t have to—"

"i want to," you interrupt, smiling a little. "besides, it’s not a big deal. i’m already caught up, so it’s just copying for you."

riku hesitates, but eventually, he takes the notes from you with a small, grateful smile. "thanks. really. i’ll get them back to you tomorrow."

"no rush," you say, shrugging. "if you need help with anything, just let me know."

and that’s how it starts.

the next day, riku returns your notes, meticulously copied onto his own paper. you’re a little surprised by how neat his handwriting is, given how messy it looked when he tried to write during class. he thanks you again, and you tell him it’s no problem. but when he starts nodding off halfway through the next lecture, you pass him a quick note: want me to explain this later?

he glances back at you, a bit sheepish, and nods before dozing off after an attempt of staying awake. after school, you sit together in the library, going over the parts he missed. riku listens intently, occasionally asking questions or scribbling down notes. he’s quieter than you expected, but there’s something calming about it… like he’s genuinely absorbing everything you’re saying.

"you’re a good teacher," he says at one point, looking up from his notebook with a faint smile.

"and you’re a good student," you reply, grinning. "when you’re not asleep, that is."

his ears turn pink, and he laughs softly. "yeah, sorry about that. i’m just... a sleepy person, i guess."

"it’s fine," you say, shrugging. "it’s actually kind of cute."

his blush deepens, and he looks away, pretending to focus on his notes. "thanks... i think."

from then on, it becomes a routine. whenever riku dozes off in class, you’re there to fill in the gaps. sometimes it’s as simple as handing him your notes; other times, you’ll sit together after school, going over the material until he feels confident enough to handle it on his own. he’s always polite, always grateful, and you can’t help but feel a little proud when you see his grades slowly improving.

but it’s not just about academics. as the weeks go by, you start to learn more about riku. he loves music, often humming under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening. he has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard, making you laugh at the most unexpected moments. and he’s surprisingly thoughtful. once, he brought you a coffee after noticing you seemed tired, mumbling something about how it’s only fair since you’ve helped him so much.

"you didn’t have to do that," you tell him, touched by the gesture.

"yeah, but i wanted to," he says, echoing your own words from that first day. his smile is small but genuine, and it makes your chest feel warm.

one afternoon, as you’re sitting together in the library, riku glances at you and says, "you know, i’ve never really had someone look out for me like this before."

"what do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head.

he shrugs, fiddling with the corner of his notebook. "i guess i’ve always been the type to just... figure things out on my own. it’s nice, though. having someone to rely on."

you’re not sure what to say to that, so you just smile and reply, "well, you can rely on me anytime."

his eyes soften, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, the sounds of the library fading into the background. it’s a simple moment, but it feels significant… like something unspoken has shifted between you.

from then on, your study sessions start to feel less like a chore and more like an excuse to spend time together. riku still struggles with staying awake in class, but now he’ll catch your eye and give you a small, apologetic smile, as if to say, sorry, i’ll make it up later. and he always does.

one day, as you’re packing up your things, riku clears his throat and says, "hey, do you want to grab some food or something? you’ve been helping me so much, and i feel like i owe you."

"you don’t owe me anything," you say, smiling. "but i’d love to."

he grins, looking both relieved and a little nervous. "cool. there’s this place nearby that has really good ramen."

"sounds perfect," you reply, and for the first time, you see him look truly awake, bright-eyed and excited, like he’s finally found something that energizes him.

as you walk together, talking about everything and nothing, you realize that helping riku wasn’t just about academics. it was about connection, about seeing someone who needed support and offering it without expecting anything in return. and in the process, you’ve found something unexpected. a friendship that feels as natural as breathing, and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something more.

[quartz-kilsviken]

Written in the Runes

Chapter 6

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student's satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸Pairing: JayVik x reader

➸Chapter Word Count: 2,917

➸Tags: Slow Burn, yearning, eventual smut, not

canon compliant

➸Notes: Your Honor, Viktor is a brat. The first few weeks at the Academy, I loved writing this chapter. I just wanna give Jayce a smooch on the cheek, he’s so sweet. ♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎"

➸ Previous Chapter: Pt. 5

“It’s a complete waste of the technology,” Viktor grumbles, tapping his fingers on the desk. “The only ones who’ll benefit are the Councilors padding their pockets with trade deals.”

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind—setting up the lab, scrambling to get everything organized, and, naturally, arguing. This same debate keeps coming up. While the three of you are developing Hextech, the Council’s already decided what it’s going to be used for. Viktor’s furious. They want to build a massive teleportation system, similar to the energy from the night in Heimerdinger’s lab, but on a much larger scale. They say they want it to transport people and cargo across Runeterra. Your problem isn’t with the idea, it’s the scale—hundreds of crystals, each needing its own rune combination. Just thinking about it makes your head throb.

“They’re not exactly giving us a choice,” Jayce says, his voice calm but his posture a dead giveaway that he’s frustrated. His feet are propped up on the desk, balancing on the back two legs of his chair. He’s trying to stay composed, but you can tell it’s wearing on him. Viktor, on the other hand, looks like he’s a hair’s breadth away from snapping.

Viktor’s bent over his desk, flipping through Jayce’s notes with a frown that could melt metal. You’d rather not dive into this right now, but seeing both of them so stressed gets to you. “You’re both right,” you say, pushing your chair back and crossing your arms. “We don’t have much of a choice, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make sure it’s used for something good. I mean, right now, the only way to get to Piltover is by ship, and it’s miserable.” You shudder at the memory—seasick, your mom holding you over the railing to throw up because you couldn’t even reach it. You didn’t have time to warn her the first time and Khal had to clean up after you. He still brings it up. “At least this way, travel won’t suck as much.”

Viktor looks like he’s chewing that over, his face softening a little. Jayce, however, seems to latch onto something else. “You’ve traveled?”

Damn. Not the direction you want this conversation to go. But it’s hard to lie to Jayce when he looks at you like that. “Uh, yeah. My family moved here when I was younger, but I don’t remember much of it,” you say quickly, glancing back at your sketches in an attempt to shift focus.

Jayce doesn’t push, but Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Where did you live before?”

Viktor, as you’ve learned, is relentless when something catches his interest. The more you try to avoid it, the harder he’s going to dig. So, you switch gears before this goes any further.

You pick up one of your rough HexGate designs and hold it out to them with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “What do you think of this? I think it’s the best one I’ve come up with so far.”

Viktor’s face immediately turns from curious to horrified, and you can’t help but stifle a laugh. Jayce steps closer, squinting at the design. “It’s... impressive? But I’m not sure the Council would approve. It’s, uh, a little... much?”

Viktor looks at him, then back at the sketch, deadpan. “It’s... terrifying.” Jayce looks at Viktor, clearly trying to silently say, ‘don’t be mean’. You’re practically bubbling with amusement, and Viktor’s giving you exactly the reaction you wanted.

“No, no, you just don’t get the vision.” You gesture dramatically to the design as if it’s the most brilliant idea ever.

Viktor stares at it, his eyebrows knit together in distaste. The sketch is a monstrosity, but you’re selling it hard. It’s a massive statue-like structure of both his and Jayce’s faces, towering over the city. The jaws of the faces are designed to unhinge, releasing a beam of energy that powers the teleportation. It’s completely absurd. “Oh, we see the vision. It’s just... I’m not sure I’m prepared for our faces to loom over Piltover. It’s a bit... ominous, don’t you think?”

Jayce looks between you and Viktor, his expression full of confusion and concern. “But why are we the ones on it? Shouldn’t you be, too?”

You grin, shrugging casually. “Nah. You two are way more photogenic than I am.” You glance at Viktor, who’s trying not to smile. “Besides, I don’t need a giant statue of me towering over the city. That sounds a little... egotistical.”

Viktor snickers. “I’ll approve the design... but only on one condition.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“We simplify it,” Viktor says, looking at you with a smirk. “Only Jayce on the statue.”

Jayce’s face falls in mock betrayal, and you immediately spring up from your chair, shaking Viktor’s hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Deal. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Wait, what?” Jayce protests, his eyes wide.

You cross your arms, a triumphant grin spreading across your face.“Two against one, Jayce. Looks like you’re the face of Hextech now.”

Seeing them less upset—even if just for a moment—makes your heart lighter. You’d draw a million silly diagrams just to keep seeing them smile. But the moment fades as soon as you remember your studies start today. It’s been easier to get lost in Hextech, especially with Jayce and Viktor around. But now… you won’t be able to hide away in the lab much longer.

You start packing up your things reluctantly, and the two of them catch on. Jayce looks up and offers, “Want us to walk you? It’s not far.”

You’d appreciate it, but you know they have more important things to do. You can’t ask them to waste their time.

“Nah, I’m used to navigating this maze by now. I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.”

Viktor gives you a knowing look, his gaze sharp as ever. He catches the tension in your voice without missing a beat. Before he can protest, you can make your way out of the lab.

You had a million different ideas of how your first lecture would go, but somehow it ended up worse than you imagined. First, you got completely lost. Jayce said it wasn’t far, but somehow it took you thirty minutes to find the place. Then, when you finally made it in, the only seat left was right in the middle. You spent the whole time feeling like you were on display, barely able to focus. You didn’t catch a word the professor said.

The rest of the day was a blur—moving from class to class, barely keeping track of the time, let alone the content. By the time your last lecture ended, you were drained, desperate to escape, but the crowd at the door made that impossible. You almost considered climbing out of a window just to get away from it all.

Then you see him. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and his face lights up with that wide, gap-toothed grin. For a moment, everything else fades.

You make your way toward him, and when his hand rests on your back, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s just a casual touch, but somehow it makes everything feel a little easier.

“Let me guess. Viktor sent you to make sure I actually made it here?” you say, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin.

Jayce laughs, guiding you through the crowd with a casual ease.

Once you’re in a quieter hall, he looks over at you, still smiling.

“So, how was it?”

His optimism is blinding, and you can’t bring yourself to admit how overwhelmed you are. Instead, you just shrug and smile back. “It was fine.”

You realize, even though you’re away from the crowd, his hand is still resting on your back. You hope he sees your nervousness as a result of the overwhelming day, not because of him. Jayce has this effortless warmth, the kind that draws people in without even trying. He’s like that with Viktor, too—his gaze lingers on him sometimes, full of quiet affection. It’s just how he is, you think. The three of you might share a connection, but in truth, you don’t know much about each other. Maybe that’s for the best. Instead of getting in your head about it, you focus on the comfort of the palm on your back, guiding you home.

As you open your door and turn to say goodnight, you catch him hesitating, like he wants to say something. His eyes flick past you, scanning your room.

“What, does my interior decorating offend you?”

“No—” he chews over his words. “There’s no interior decorating to be offended by.”

Right. The space is big—bigger than anything you’ve had—and honestly, kind of unsettling. The academy provided a bed and a desk, but the rest is empty. “I guess I just haven’t had time,” you lie, forcing an easy shrug.

Oh, he needs to stop looking at you like that—like he sees right through you. His voice is gentler when he says, “I don’t know if Heimerdinger told you, but this isn’t regular student housing. It’s permanent.”

Permanent. He definitely failed to mention that.

“This place is yours,” Jayce continues. “It might help you feel more comfortable if you got a few things. Viktor and I can help, you know.”

You know. And that’s exactly why you hesitate.

“If I present my HexGate design to the council, they might just kick me out, you know.” You flash a grin, but the joke is thinly veiled. The ridiculous, fake design you’d sketched earlier had been for fun—but what if your real ideas get the same reaction? What if you pour everything into this, only to watch it fall apart?

Jayce doesn’t call you on it, just watches you for a moment before saying simply, “Think about it.”

“Good night, Jayce.”

The rest of your week went smoothly, the routine settling your nerves. Even the HexGate project had taken a turn for the better—frustration giving way to excitement as plans started coming together. You’d gotten so caught up in your work that you even started pulling out your designs during lectures, ignoring the side glances from other students. Things had been going so well, in fact, that you’d completely forgotten about your conversation with Jayce.

Jayce, however, had not.

You had been looking forward to a full day of working on Hextech—only to walk into the lab and realize Jayce had other plans. He insisted you all go out to get things for your room, and to your dismay, Viktor had immediately agreed.

Now, you curse Jayce’s insistent kindness as your arms strain under the weight of a couch.

"Left, Jayce—my left, not yours. You’re a very intelligent man, but apparently, using your muscles and your brain at the same time is a challenge." Viktor watches from a safe distance, fingers tapping absently on his cane, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

“I’d like to see you try it,” Jayce grunts back, his voice strained.

From over the couch, you catch Viktor’s amused look as his eyes glint with mock disapproval. “Oh, you would, would you? That is cruel—wishing to see a man with a hurt leg carry a couch.”

“You’re mean,” you huff, adjusting your grip. “Mean and distracting, and I need him focused so I don’t get crushed under this thing.”

As you reach your door, Viktor steps in to help, and you decide it’s time to wipe that smug expression off his face. You smile, letting the teasing tone slip in.

“Here, grab my keys so I don’t have to set this down.”

Viktor’s eyes flick over you, and for just a moment, his expression tightens when his gaze lands on your back pocket. You see the brief hesitation, that almost imperceptible pause before he catches himself and steps forward.

“What, Viktor? Scared to touch my ass?”

He furrows his brows at you, but there’s a spark of something in his eyes—playful, but just a little caught off guard. He reaches into your pocket, fingers slow, deliberate, not quite brushing against you, but you feel it anyway. The space between you both seems to close just a little too easily.

When he pulls the keys out, you glance at Jayce, your grin widening.

“See how easy that was? You could tell Viktor he can’t fly, and he’d probably jump off a building just to prove you wrong.”

You barely hear Viktor muttering under his breath, his voice quieter than usual. “Don’t do what I’m asked, and I’m insulted. Do what I’m asked, and—still—I am insulted.”

He holds open the door, his usual confidence returning. “Left—no—my left.” He huffs a laugh as the couch bangs into the door frame.

“Don’t listen to him, Jayce. You’re doing really well.” You grunt, adjusting your grip.

You don’t notice how Jayce seems to soften at the praise, a slight glow warming his face, but Viktor does. The teasing edges of his smile fade as he watches, and instead of continuing his playful jab, he tucks the observation away in his mind.

As soon as the couch is set down, Jayce flops across it with a deep, exasperated grunt. He’s tall, sprawling across the entire length of it. You smack his shoe, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Budge.”

He doesn’t lift his head, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice as he sighs. “I don’t think I can move.”

You’re tired too, and without thinking, you shift his legs off just enough to make room for yourself. As you settle back into the couch, his legs fall naturally across your lap. The weight of them is surprisingly comforting. You let your head fall back against the cushions, savoring the softness.

You feel his muscles tense beneath you, a subtle shift in the air. When you open your eyes just a bit, you catch him staring. The intensity in his gaze catches you off guard, and your stomach flutters before you can look away. He clears his throat, quickly turning his attention to Viktor, who’s unpacking the rest of the items.

“We should get one of these for the lab.”

You laugh, trying to shake off the unexpected warmth spreading through you. “Oh yeah? Well, you can carry it yourself. I’m never lifting another couch.”

Viktor pulls his gaze from the two of you, placing a new lamp on your desk, but his attention shifts, lingering over the paintings scattered across the space. Some old, some new, but one in particular catches his attention. The blue glow from the scene reflects over both his and Jayce’s faces as they float in Heimerdinger’s lab. He stops, staring at it, the soft light catching his features.

‘Is this really how she see’s us?’ he thinks, something shifting in his chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

The only thing missing from the piece, he realizes, is you. But before his thoughts can wander further, he shifts his focus back to the lamp. As he reaches down to plug it in, another painting catches his eye. He pulls a canvas from the bag in the corner, completely captivated.

It’s a scene of a mother and daughter, gathered by a fire. Their closeness is palpable, the warmth of the moment so real you almost feel you’re there. The mother is showing the daughter some kind of magic. Viktor’s eyes drift to the bottom corner, and before he can stop himself, he asks softly,

“Did you paint this?”

You don’t respond right away. Instead, moving out from under Jayce and striding across the room, your expression suddenly distant. Viktor’s heart gives a small, unexpected lurch as he watches you, realizing too late that his question has caught you off guard.

“No.”

You move swiftly to take the painting back, but before you can grab it, Viktor holds it just out of your reach, his hand lingering there a little longer than necessary. He can’t help himself, his voice softer this time.

“That’s your name in the corner, is it not?”

You freeze, your hand still outstretched. When you meet his gaze, your eyes lock for a moment that feels too long. There’s an unexpected shift, a warmth that pulls you both closer, though neither of you dares to acknowledge it. You shift just a little, your body instinctively drawing nearer. Viktor’s gaze flickers, and for a brief second, he looks almost... uncertain.

Before the moment can stretch any longer, you use his distraction to quickly snatch the canvas from his hand.“It’s my grandmother’s name. I don’t sign my art.”

You shove the painting back into the bag, zipping it shut a little too quickly.

Jayce’s soft voice draws your attention, “Art like that is meant to be shared, not locked away. We’re already here, we can help you hang them.”

You realize they’re both well-meaning, but you still feel a soft pang in your chest, something you can’t quite place.

Hesitant, you open the bag again, pulling out two paintings—both by your mother, one of a flower, the other of the sea. You hand them to Viktor, the gesture light, almost fleeting, but something lingers in the air.

Without a word, you turn toward the kitchen, the quiet task of making dinner a welcome distraction. It’s easier to focus on that than whatever their kindness is stirring in you. After everything they’ve done for you today, helping you settle in and furnish the place, it’s the least you can do.

[protect-namine]

Ahhhhh your theory about how Vein died is sooooooooooo fucking real. Like I've seen people talk about how Lu Guang might have a secret power? But I feel like that's not the case cuz then we might have seen it play out in S1 and S2. Lg would surely would have used it in the fight with Qian Jin.

for context, anon is talking about this post where I theorize how vein "died." I go into it in more detail there, but the tl;dr version of it is: no lu guang did not kill him vein directly. he just delayed vein from entering the clinic early, thus creating a butterfly effect (hence his whole speech about it) that led to wang qing being awake when vein tries to leave with the notebook, thus creating an opportunity for her to "kill" vein which she wouldn't have had originally. but liu xiao interrupted this chain of events and that's why vein is alive using the faking death ability.

I am linking the reblog version here because other people have added their own thoughts since the creation of the post. I'm not sure if anon has seen it or just the original post, because in my original post I posit that liu xiao has the faking death ability. but after seeing other people's thoughts, I am now more leaning to the idea that wang qing has the faking death ability or perhaps, that a combination of wang qing and liu xiao is what made the "heart attack but fake death" happen. perhaps (unintentionally) they created a power combo-ing effect similar to how lu guang and cheng xiaoshi can create a mind link across time when combining their powers, or how li tianchen can possess people across space by proxy of li tianxi.

a power combo that works across "death" would be interesting, though this is merely speculative at this point. it would certainly provide another perspective to why they're paired up in the ed.

to now address anon: yeah, exactly. even if the addition of non-photo based powers is a recent change in writing direction (that they may not have had foresight on during the writing of previous seasons), it still would be too much of a drastic change for lu guang to be hiding another ability.

as I said in the post, it is unfortunate that we have to rely on information outside of the show to make sense of it, but yingdu really does make more sense when you've seen the recent interview with director li. in particular, it is heavily implied that liu xiao has more than one ability, and the process of gaining an ability (aside from inheritance from parents) is through death or stealing it from others.

while I am a believer in the idea that lu guang is willing to do morally questionable things for cheng xiaoshi, I don't think he would've had an opportunity to just get a new ability so soon after he just got the diving ability from cheng xiaoshi. on the flip side, if he always had multiple abilities since he was a kid, it would be bad writing lmao because then why has he never used it until now? especially when he's been timelooping for who knows how long to avoid a death node. I know link click is possibly retconning some details (2018 is now 2019, they changed the plans for red eyes, etc etc) but I don't think this would be a retcon they'd do because it would change too much of lu guang's character.

I am going to use this ask as a jumping off point to talk about yingdu's storytelling style, and how we should take this into account when analyzing this season. putting this under the cut now since this gets long and is kinda just a tangent now to the ask itself, though it does circle back to lu guang's role in vein's "death" in the end.

part of the reason vein's death is confusing is definitely because of the animation of lu guang puppeteering wang qing. I can totally see how people would come to the conclusion that lu guang was controlling her somehow. but we have to remember that yingdu is not like S1 and S2, for multiple reasons. one, it's a shorter season meant to introduce plot hooks, not plot; it's a setup for S3. two, it's a change in perspective from cheng xiaoshi's more grounded reality to lu guang who has been timelooping for forever. three, it was animated by a different studio than studio lan. fourth, it aims to provide a different story, and the storytelling style reflects that.

whereas S1 and S2 has a storytelling style that focused more on plot details and building up tension; yingdu focused more on relationships and emotions. it heavily uses visual metaphors in its storytelling compared to previous seasons.

in a way, although I have qualms about yingdu's writing, I do think visual metaphors is a valid solution to the problem of, "we only have six episodes to establish new plots and characters and motivations. how do we convey information efficiently in that amount of time without compromising artistry?"

I will mention one metaphor in detail that will be relevant for the lu guang discussion later. one example is glasses as a perception metaphor. this meta was written in YE5, and YE6 continues the metaphor as well because we see lu guang wear clear glasses for the first time, symbolizing that he is no longer stuck in his rose-tinted glasses era of looking into the past, and has decided to look into the future, solidified by his decision to remove vein from the situation and also because he reveals later that this is the last time he can loop.

there are, of course, more examples. idk if I have links for existing meta on this, but we have hands as a metaphor for relationships (hand holding, handshakes, fist bumps, etc) and the power balance of each relationship (with regards to secrets, deals, etc). we have various color theories floating around. we have theater/cinema and chess as metaphors for everyone's narrative roles. lu guang's imaginary clock as a metaphor for how he thinks the timeline should go, and how it's prevented from running by red strings forming the word BRIDON. we even see the clock fall apart in one of the later episodes (I forget which one atm). hell I could write a whole meta on liu xiao's tetris game as a metaphor for how he sees the "game" he's playing and the role xia fei plays into all of it.

side note: I think it's incredibly valid for people to feel that yingdu did not have enough space to properly establish characters, and I feel the same way too. but at the same time, I think a lot of characterization also gets missed in yingdu because it's a season that loves its metaphors and encodes character motivations through it instead of just showing it to us. I have conflicting feelings about this, but ultimately, they only had 6 episodes to tell a story, and I think that's something we should always keep in mind when managing expectations.

circling back to vein's "death" and lu guang's role in it... visual metaphors are gonna be confusing if people don't know this is what yingdu's storyelling heavily uses. I don't think we should be reading yingdu the same way we did S1/S2.

someone could watch lu guang puppetering wang qing and think, "oh he's using her to kill vein directly" but if we stick to yingdu's storytelling style, it is more likely a metaphor for him learning to manipulate the butterfly effect for his purposes (again also symbolized by the glasses metaphor, since he wears clear glasses in the same episode)

scenes should also not be taken out of context. there is a reason he made a whole speech about the butterfly effect first. a small change (delaying vein) results in a big change (killing vein). if lu guang was controlling wang qing or whatever, that is not a small change. that is not a butterfly effect. we literally had a butterfly land on lu guang's shoulder after he made this speech to vein. the point was to create a butterfly effect that would lead to a situation where vein dies.

and for my final tangent: this sets us up perfectly for S3 because I believe lu guang and liu xiao are supposed to be narrative foils.

they both have expressed wanting control over the timelines. liu xiao wants "to make uncertainties into certainties" (whatever this means) and lu guang wants "to make certainties (cheng xiaoshi's death node) uncertain." but as of S1 and S2, lu guang was not yet in a position to properly rival liu xiao over this theming, because we know he's been timelooping and failing over and over to save cheng xiaoshi, while liu xiao has been successfully manipulating people into doing things for him (getting li tianchen to retrieve liu min's phone for him; baiting cheng xiaoshi to go to bridon so he can use him to bait wang qing to revealing where she hid the location of cheng weimin's notebook so vein can steal it).

now, lu guang has shown some semblance of control. and we have seen the effects of it. cheng xiaoshi is still alive and well in a post-S2 post-yingdu timeline.

I mentioned this way back in YE2, but there's also a distinct change in the way we're moving from "closed loops" to "butterfly effects" as a theme in yingdu. yingdu has many objectives it wanted to do as a season, but the main one was lu guang learning to manipulate the timelines through creating a butterfly effect. in keeping with this theme and objective, it just does not make sense for him to kill vein by somehow directly controlling wang qing.

[marauders-bs]

p4! and so soon :3 @jamie-potters ty for the comment it made me finish this <3 @r0seprincess no meadowes kids this time 😔 next time tho @im-a-mess-of-a-person :3

masterlist

Hermione watched Dorcas sprint, laughing with her braids flying behind her, summer sun glinting off the grass.

Regulus was just in front of her, laughing quieter but still laughing. 

"Fine!" a boy's voice called, and Hermione realized as she looked around that Barty, Evan and Pandora were with Dorcas and Regulus. The boy who had spoken was Barty. "Fine, Reg wins, and my dumbass should learn to stop challenging you two to races."

"You should learn," Pandora said. Barty flicked her arm.

"Are you guys going to try out for the Quidditch team?" Evan asked, meeting Dorcas and Regulus in the middle of the field. "I think the Keeper and the Seeker just graduated."

Regulus shrugged. "I'm not sure I will. That kind of thing will get back to my mother fast, and she'll think I'm turning into Sirius."

"I might," Dorcas said. "I'm not sure I'm good enough, but it's worth a shot. Bat, you're good enough to be a Beater, I think."

"Dora too," Barty said, nudging her. "We would be the best power duo."

"Bone-breaking duo," Regulus said. "Everyone would rue the day Flitwick let you play."

Pandora nodded, smiling. Every memory Hermione saw with her in it made her wonder what had happened to the twins to make them practically swap personalities. 

The memory began to whirl, and Hermione smiled at it. She knew the way Dorcas went out, and she was glad that she seemed to have a good childhood.

-

The next scene was the inside of the Slytherin common room. Dorcas was pointing her wand at a Muggle pen and trying to transform it- into what, Hermione couldn't tell.

"Just do it without the wand," Evan said. "You're better without it."

"I know," Dorcas said. She looked over at him, smiling, but something in his expression made her smile drop.

Evan picked up his quill, eyes vacant, and began to sketch without looking at his paper. Five drawings appeared out of the seemingly random strokes– a boy who looked like Regulus, but older, reaching a hand upwards as hands drug him down into water. An older Dorcas stood angry, wand nowhere to be seen but hands outstretched, as a jet of light shot at her. Evan himself laying in Barty's arms, dead, as the blond boy screamed at the sky. Pandora looked like she was flying backwards, a cauldron in front of her. Barty's eyes were vacant but he was standing, a dementor in front of him.

Hermione didn't believe in Divination, but this might be something to prove her wrong. She knew that Luna's mum had blown herself up, Regulus had drowned in the lake and that Barty had received the Dementor's Kiss. That was the drawings on the paper.

"Ev?" Dorcas asked, pulling the notebook towards her. Her own death predicted on the page didn't seem to faze her, but the others did. "Ev?"

"What?" he asked, pulling the notebook back to him. "Did I do this?"

"Just now," she answered. "Evan, what-"

"I don't know either," he said. "I don't know why Dora would be messing around with potions. That's my thing, not hers."

Dorcas shrugged, concerned look on her face, but Evan went back to his work, so Dorcas did too. 

-

The next memory was the Quidditch pitch. Dorcas stood there beside three older people, two boys and a girl. She didn't seem nervous, but confident in her abilities. 

The Chasers sent seven hard goals to the first potential Keeper, and he missed five. The captain just waved him off, turning to the next boy. He did even worse, missing six of the goals. The older girl saved six but missed the seventh, which was understandable as it was a professional-level shot.

Then it was Dorcas's turn. Hermione had never met the girl, yet she couldn't help but hold her breath as Dorcas saved one, two, three, four, five, six shots. The seventh was the one the older girl had missed, a feint to one side and a shot on the far goal. Dorcas managed to save that one and throw it to a Chaser halfway down the field, making it look simple and stupid that the other girl had missed it.

The captain raised an eyebrow at Dorcas, who was a third-year. "How'd you make those?" he asked.

"I practice," she said simply. "And I'm good at what I do."

"'Good at what you do,' my ass." the captain said. "Do you have your wand on you?"

"No," Dorcas answered calmly. "I don't need it. I'm perfectly capable of saving goals without help."

One of the Chasers rolled his eyes. "We can just take both of them, you know. Let Meadowes play until she gets herself injured too bad."

Hermione could actually feel Ron thrumming with anger from beside her. He was protective of all people, even ones he didn't know very well. It was Hermione's favorite thing about him, if she was honest.

The captain made a face at the Chaser who had spoken. "You're usually right, Anna, but we haven't let someone below fifth year on the team in more than a decade."

"I'll take talent over age," one of the Beaters said. "That might just be me, though."

"Not just you," muttered the Chaser who had made the most difficult shots, picking at her nails. 

"Fine," the captain said. He turned to Dorcas and her opponent. "Meadowes, congratulations, you're on the team. Sorry, Blanchet, but you're going to be our reserve Keeper for if Meadowes gets hurt."

The girl – Blanchet? – took it better than McLaggen had. She clapped Dorcas on the shoulder, and the memory began to whirl.

-

"So, Sirius told me you're on the Slytherin team?" Marlene said, swinging down into the seat beside Dorcas. A glance around told Hermione that they were back in the Transfiguration classroom.

"Why would Sirius know that?" Dorcas asked, pulling out an ink bottle.

"Baby Black, obviously," Marlene replied. "Him and Sirius together must know everything that goes on in the school."

"That's because of Barty, not Reg," Dorcas said, laughing a little. "For all his loudmouth tenancies, he does a surprising amount of lurking."

Marlene laughed, very clearly surprised at Dorcas's honesty. Hermione knew about her brutal honesty at that point, and she was a bit taken aback that Marlene didn't know about that.

McGonagall entered the room then, Dorcas turned to her, and the memory spun away.

-

The next memory showed Dorcas looking stoic in a locker room similar to the one that Hermione had spent time in because of Ron and Harry. The grip she had on her broom told Hermione that her entire attitude was probably faked. 

"Are you ready for this, Meadowes?" the only other female player asked, lacing up her boots. "Ravenclaw's really good this year thanks to those new Beaters they got. Second years, both of them, and one's a girl, but they work together better than anyone I've ever seen."

"I'm friends with the Beaters," Dorcas said dismissively. "One of them will do his level best to knock anyone off their broom except me and the other will be a problem because she's actually smart."

"Which one?" the captain asked from where he was pulling on his jersey.

"The girl," Dorcas said. "The blond one's book-smart but incredibly stupid. He's only on the team because he's powerful. Pandora's smart and strong."

"Hope you all heard that," the captain called to the team. "The girl Beater's the smarter one and the boy will just try to knock you off your broom. If you can take her out of commission, do, but try not to get taken out of the game, Dahar."

"Boring," one of the Beaters muttered. "But fine."

"Anything else, since you're friends with them?" the Chaser girl asked.

Dorcas looked deep in thought. "Levine is their lead Chaser, but he's not as good as Abbas is. They let him lead because it's his last year, but it's going to be Abbas who scores if anyone does."

"Their Seeker?" the Slytherin Seeker asked.

"Smart, as Ravenclaw Seekers usually are," Dorcas replied. "His broom is horrible and he refuses to buy another one, so he'll be slow."

The Chaser girl grinned and clapped Dorcas on the back, "Earning your keep this game, aren't you? Bet your friends are going to be real mad when they lose."

"They already know they're going to lose, Anna," Dorcas said with a grin.

"That's the spirit," the captain said. "Alright, everyone up. They're going to call Ravenclaw first because they hate us, but we'll be soon after that. Order we fly out in is as it usually is– Koz, Ford, me, Dahar, Stroll, Meadowes, and St James. It's going to be a rough game, but we have our own little secret weapon."

"Stop making jokes about my height, asshole," Dorcas muttered, but she was smiling as everyone laughed with her.

Outside the room, someone began to call out the names of the Ravenclaws. Hermione heard only two she recognized- Crouch Jr and Rosier, presumably Barty and Pandora, and then the commentator began to call names the captain had said. The Chaser girl, Anna, flew out first, kicking hard off the ground and flying through the curtain. The second Chaser followed, then the captain, then the two Beaters, then Dorcas.

Hermione felt the wind in her hair like she was flying with Dorcas. She watched her do a loop around Barty, stick her tongue out, and fly to the goalposts. 

A memory interrupted the main one, sort of like a flashback within a flashback.

Dorcas was sitting with Anna and the captain, presumably after a practice.

"Hey, Meadowes," the captain said. "If you save more goals than we score, I'll let you hit Snape for every save you make. I'll even whipe his memory for you."

"That sounds fantastic," Dorcas said, grinning at him sideways.

The memory went back to Dorcas in front of the goalposts, waiting there as a younger Madame Hooch called out to the captains. Dorcas's captain shook hands with the Ravenclaw one, looking as though his mind was already in the sky.

Hermione still didn't understand Quidditch, and the fact that the memory only showed Dorcas's saves made it harder still to follow. One flash showed a Bludger coming at Dorcas at top speed, one of the Beaters throwing her his bat, and her smacking it as hard as she could at Barty and throwing the bat back to its rightful owner. Pandora smacked Barty's head the next time she flew by.

The memory began to whirl suddenly as a bludger rocketed towards Dorcas. She looked at it in surprise and tried to dive out of the way, but the memory went black.

send thoughts and prayers grade check ins for my seventh graders come out tomorrow and 1/2 of them are failing because they won't do the two pieces of gd homework i assigned them IT'S CADEN'S OWN DAMN FAULT HE'S FAILING JENNIFER HE HASN'T DONE AN ASSIGNMENT IN TWO MONTHS

[cat-shouty-13]

Coming back to this with new thoughts, kinda !

(The glyphs are small now to fit into my chart I have)

I have decided to declare this the Devotee's glyph for 'monster/impure' ! The similarities to the glyph for man/human (along with the trend in Bard and Alchemist of the 'monster' glyph baring some similarities to their 'man/human' glyph) makes me think this was intended to be the 'monster' glyph.

I still have no ideas for these other than they're probably a matching pair of descriptors

I was too hasty to call this a verb as it's shape is more similar to the 'not' glyph than verbs. However, in light of that information I cannot offer any alternatives to the meaning of this, so it's still is the 'play' glyph for me

I have dubbed this one 'fire' due to it's similarities to the Bard glyph

This one's probably represents a person but not really, so it's the Warrior's glyph for 'idiot' now

This one looks like the Devotee's glyph for 'potion' so bada bing bada boom, Warrior's 'potion' glyph

This is a fun little bonus ! If you don't recognise it, it's the example glyph that's used in the tutorial popup for how the notebook works. Technically, it should be a Devotee glyph due to it's thickness being more similar to the Devotee glyphs, but these are my silly little thoughts so I choose to see this as the Warriors glyph for 'greetings'

Unused glyphs in Chants of Sennaar

Chants of Sennaar has some unused glyphs in the game data.

(Spoilers below.)

Unused Devotee glyphs

There's an unused glyph for "question" which is similar to the Bards' "question" glyph. In practice the Devotee language doesn't use a word for "question".

There's an unused glyph for "many" which might have been a plural. In practice the Devotee langauge marks plurals with reduplication.

There's an unused glyph for "war", which is the right component of the glyph for "warrior". There's also an unused glyph for "weapon", which is "tool" + "war". (There's also a glyph for "fortress", which is not in this image but which can be seen on a broken inscription in the Garden. The "fortress" glyph is "war" + "building".)

There's an unused glyph for "shop", which is the top component of "find" + "building".

There's an unused glyph for "house", which is "person" + "building".

There's an unused glyph for "optician" (?!), which is "person" + the top component of "see".

There's one unused glyph which has no definition and isn't made out of existing glyphs.

Unused Warrior glyphs

There are six unused glyphs for the Warriors' language. No definitions are given for these.

[taleeater]

The More Things Change, the More Things Stay the Same

Vaunite Viktor and Runaway Jayce AU

Just an idea, but this just sprung on me and I had a big lightbulb moment.

Jayce goes to the undercity to buy parts for his less than legal experiments from Ekko’s shop. Like he had been doing for a while. And that’s how he knows Viktor, who is mentoring Ekko, and also works under Silco and is a former student of Singed. Since he decided to continue to work with Singed as a child, he never left to join the college in Piltover. Viktor did his best to keep Jayce at a distance at first, despising the Pilties, but Jayce was extremely persistent in befriending Viktor, the enchanting, mysterious, incredibly intelligent Zaunite scientist and engineer. And Viktor could only resist Jayce’s advances for so long before this incredibly sweet and surprisingly smart big oaf of a man began to grow on him. So they become somewhat well acquainted friends over time.

Marcus, after a particularly frustrating meeting with Silco, has some of his officers tail Viktor, Silco’s assistant, to try and dig up some more information and dirt on what Silco’s secret plans are. But Viktor is smart, and slippery, but not at all fast. He manages to lose the Piltover cops tailing him, but what he doesn’t know is that after they leave, they discover Jayce, obviously a Piltie, sneaking into the undercity and follow him to Ekko’s shop where Viktor is now waiting to meet up with him. No one but Vander sees the police there watching them.

Skip ahead to the Incident™️where Jayce’s apartment gets blown up. It’s less of an accident this time, and the kids don’t have anything to do with it. This time it’s the corrupt Piltover police force. Later that week, when Jayce is out with Caitlyn, the Piltover police illegally raid and search his apartment, and make it look like a break in. They try to find any connection he might have to Silco and the Undercity, but all they find are his weird experiments. So they grab anything fishy- and valuable looking, and make to leave. But one of the cops drops a crystal and it explodes as they run out the door. Jayce is a block away when he and Caitlyn hear the explosion, and discover his place in ruins and a lot of his stuff missing. But thankfully he had his research notebook on hand so it wasn’t taken.

The police of course claim that the break in was the work of Zaunite children, and avoid being held responsible. Using the excuse to patrol Zaun and harass anyone who they might think is suspicious for other reasons. But unlike before, the university doesn’t feel the need to search his apartment for anything left, as the police already claimed that anything dangerous looking had already been stolen. (They did their own ‘investigation’ to cover their tracks.) Jayce is brought before the counsel like before, and stripped of his status at the university, support, and funding, and ordered to give up on all his research. He goes home defeated.

The scene in his destroyed apartment still happens, he almost jumps. But he has another idea instead. He grabs anything left related to his research, writes his mother a misleading note claiming he’s leaving Piltover for good, and escapes into the night. And heads straight for Zaun. (In a disguise that covers his face this time, as Viktor had been recently pestering him about doing so anyway for safety.) Jayce finds the Last Drop, as Ekko’s shop is closed late at night, and asks around for anyone who might know Viktor. The whole bar immediately gets suspicious of him, and it’s Sevika at the bar who decides to take him. She thinks he’s a Piltover spy, and leads him away from the bar with the intention to beat him up and rob him. And maybe bring him to Silco to see if they should kill him. But it’s Viktor who comes across them on a late night walk, and takes notice of the suspiciously familiar lumbering shape being led down a dark alleyway by his coworker that draws him to the scene. Sevika shoves Jayce into a wall and pulls off his face covering, Jayce throwing up his arms in defense asking her to wait, when the familiar voice speaks up. “….Jayce?” He would know that voice anywhere. “What are you doing here?” Viktor asks him, and Sevika backs off but is incredibly suspicious as to why Viktor is so familiar with a possible Piltie spy.

Jayce all but melts at the sight of Viktor and rushes up to him to embrace him in a hug, one that Viktor is very surprised and uncomfortable by. But he can tell Jayce is very rattled. Jayce is able to tell him a little bit about what happened in the alley, all in earshot of Sevika, but he’s able to get across that no one will be looking for him, especially not in Zaun, (he thinks) and that’s all Viktor needs to hear before he realizes that Jayce has abandoned Piltover to continue his research and needs a place to stay. After a lot of inner turmoil, knowing he’s probably going to regret it, he brings Jayce back home with him to his private lab and his little apartment.

That night, Jayce shows Viktor all of his research with incredible passion and fervor, and it surprises Viktor how much he finds himself believing in Jayce’s research. There begins their official partnership to share their Hextech dream, not with Piltover, but for Zaun, and the rest of the world.

The Piltover police, with no targets on which children to blame for their break in, and not wanting to piss off Vander, grab a random kid off the streets that was picking a fight with them to arrest, not realizing that the kid worked for Silco. But the kid had Shimmer on him, and injected himself with it to fight them off in desperation. He manages to kill a few cops, but is ultimately gunned down. Silco is beyond pissed off. Marcus is forced to bury the whole incident just to appease Silco, but ultimately their whole bargain is all but thrown in the trash, and Piltover is still enraged that some of their officers were killed in the Undercity. Relations between Piltover and Zaun become increasingly more unsteady, and violent as a result. But meanwhile, Viktor and Jayce are holed up in their own little world working together to develop Hextech. Silco is not exactly thrilled to lose his assistant. But Silco manages to bribe enough people in Piltover to leave the undercity alone in the meantime. Jayce and Viktor quickly realized that they still desperately needed funding for their research, and ended up presenting their work to a sceptical, but soon baffled Silco only weeks after they began working together. Silco sees the potential for the Hextech to benefit the Undercity in many different ways, so he uses the money he makes from his enormous sales in Shimmer to fund their research. No less than a month later, he rescues Powder from the aftermath of a brutal police attack that burned the Last Drop to the ground, killing Vander, Milo, and Claggor. But Vi escaped only to blame Powder for leading the violent officers back home with her after one of her toy bomb traps failed to activate. Vi was still arrested unjustly, and Silco took in Powder.

Years pass, and things eventually calm down again. Without Mel around to seduce and influence Jayce, he realizes his feelings for Viktor much sooner. But he’s still too scared to confess to him as Viktor becomes more and more busy being radicalized by Silco to fight for the Undercity. It’s Viktor who ends up having to step up and take a position of political power, not Jayce. Viktor and Jayce did not have access to any of Piltover’s extensive funding and resources like before, so their research was slower going at the beginning despite Silco’s funding and resources. But surprisingly, with Jinx’s help after years of her endless curiosity and tutelage from a big brotherly Jayve and regretfully resigned Viktor, they refine the crystals to a more safe form. Soon enough, they are able to produce versions of the HexClaw and the HexGloves, which they made for assisting work in the mines and in construction. But without Heimerdinger’s warnings like before, they are able to have Silco fund their mass production to be used all over the Undercity. But it doesn’t take long for the people of Zaun to figure out they can also use the tech for their own self defense against Piltover, and it begins to cause problems again between the two cities. Viktor ends up having to fill in for Silco more and more as a representative for his Shimmer operations and as a political representative for Zaun in talks with Piltover, leaving Jayce alone often in the lab to work alone. So Jayce is not there when Viktor collapses for the first time from the illness he’s been hiding from them. 

That night, Jinx and Silco bring in an unconscious Viktor to their lab. It’s not the first time Jayce has helped a rogue Zaunite with first aid, and they even developed a few useful medical devices, but this was different. This was Viktor, and as far as he could tell with his limited medical knowledge, his condition was bad. Very bad. So Jayce throws himself into working on creating new medical inventions, things he tries to use to treat Viktor, to cure him. But the tension between Zaun and Piltover is boiling over again, and Silco needs weapons to help the citizens of Zaun to fight off Piltover’s oppression. Jinx ends up using their refined crystals to manufacture bombs and weapons, against the strict wishes of Jayce and Viktor never to do so. But it goes unnoticed by Jayce as he gets more and more desperate as Viktor’s illness worsens without real medical attention. He is tempted by Singed into resorting to treating him with small doses of Shimmer like Silco uses on his eye. Now with Viktor having minorly stabilized, and the usage of an artificial lung that Jayce designed, they work together on the evolving HexCore. Eventually, they accidentally trigger the HexCore mutation, with Huck there bringing them food like usual on orders from Silco, Huck gets sucked up to feed the HexCore as it feeds power to Viktor to transform him as Jayce tries to control it. Viktor doesn’t turn into Machine Herold, but most of his body is still transformed to merge with all his metal braces that Jayce made for him, and the artificial lung support and Shimmer that was keeping him alive. Viktor, empowered by his new strength and powers in his new form, decides to go join Silco in his war against Piltover. But Jayce stops him, and finally confesses his feelings to Viktor, and pleads with him to stay with him. Viktor, still having his emotions, is swayed. Because he knows it too, deep in his bones, all these years they've spent together, he loves Jayce too. He returns his feelings. They kiss, and even sleep together that night. But when Jayce wakes up in the morning, Viktor is gone. 

I haven't worked out all the alternate universe differences in this AU revolving around Jinx, Caitlyn, and Vi, so for now assume most of their storyline outside of what happens with Jayce and Viktor stays mostly the same. 

Someone shoot me. Why can I never write like 1 paragraph for an idea and just leave it alone. Once again running with this until it looks like another rough fanfic instead of a little AU idea. Hope you like it. :]

[miyamiwu]

Obsessing over ambidextrous VeiFei right now, and the focus on Vein’s right hand at this scene felt really weird to me.

It could just be to show that the mysterious notebook he was holding in his hand is gone…but since this scene was flashed after XF learned about his death, it felt really out-of-place. Shouldn’t we be having a close-up of his head/face instead to highlight his importance to XF? Or maybe a camera pan of his entire body for something more neutral? But nope, they zoomed in on his right hand specifically.

The position of his arm here is also weird because this was how he fell:

His right arm forward.

Sure, his arm could’ve still changed positions as he was struggling, but I don’t think a man grappling for his life would put his arm back at his side. He should be clawing at the floor, or clutching his heart with both hands

Not like this...

right arm peacefully on his side...

And showing him beside CXS here makes it even weirder because the way CXS fell is different from how Vein fell:

CXS was knocked out in one go, but Vein still had time to struggle…There was no way he’d think about just putting his arm back at his side.

So, I think his arm here was actually deliberately positioned by someone to make it look like a normal heart attack. It can’t be Wang Qing because such actions bring her no benefit; she’s still wanted by the police. The only suspect left…is Lu Guang.

I think…Lu Guang arrived at the scene and deliberately changed Vein’s position to make it look like a simple heart attack.

I could be wrong, but these are my thoughts on it.

[theapangea]

The Sweet Taste of You

Pairing/Characters: Lip Gallagher x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You and Lip kiss.

Part of the Every Little Touch Series

Warning: Kissing, dirty talk

A/N: I'm actually writing again, yay!!! More fics will definitely be coming as I am not officially done with school. Thank you all for the continued support. Hope you enjoy ;) . All mistakes are mine as I can sometimes be too lazy to reread lol.

*Also posted on AO3: theapangea*

Masterlist

You breathe a sigh of relief when the bell finally rings and Lip still hasn’t entered through the door. Maybe he is too embarrassed by what is going on between the two of you that he no longer wants to show up for math class. Or he is playing hooky for any other number of reasons. You chose the latter as thinking that Lip is embarrassed by you in any way turns your stomach into a knot. 

You hate to admit that you are happy that Lip isn’t in class today. It isn’t that you don’t want to see him, or maybe you don’t want to see him. You actually cannot make up your mind as this situation is so confusing. A couple of days ago, you would have never imagined being in this situation with anyone, especially Lip. Lip is turning your whole world upside down and grinning the whole time as you squirm underneath his touch, his voice, his presence. 

You’d verbally groan out loud if you weren’t in class. 

But just when that little bit of hope was starting to settle in and the feeling of relaxation washes over you. The messy blonde hair comes rushing in. 

Fuck.

The apples of his cheeks are flushed with hues of reds and pinks as he catches his breath, handing the teacher a pink slip. His backpack slung over one of his shoulders as he weaves his way through the rows of desks. Flashing you a quick grin before sliding into his regular seat right behind you. 

Fuck.

The anxiety starts to replace the calm that was once coating your body. Lip sitting right behind you, probably thinking of all the dirty things he’s been doing to you is making you antsy. You wish you were strong enough to talk to him about all these things but the whole situation is so awkward and uncomfortable. You want this with Lip, but how can you bring yourself to actually talk about it with him?

Time seems to be moving slower than ever as the teacher goes on and on about some math equation that you can’t seem to even begin to grasp. Which is why you need tutoring, which is why you are friends with Lip, which is why you are in this whole mess to begin with.

If you can even classify this as a mess.

It is practically every girl's dream to be touched by a hot guy. You feel a little silly complaining about it but these feelings are so new to you. Not just the sexual ones but the ones that are sparks that you feel in your chest. The ones you feel everytime Lip is sitting just a little too close when he’s tutoring you, or when his hand brushes against yours. It’s these little feelings, the emotional ones, unfortunately, that you can’t seem to shake. And the added sexual situation is definitely not helping. 

You try your best to ignore him. Ignore the way he taps his pencil against his notebook while the teacher is talking, feeling his desk shift while he leans around your head to see the board. Trying to ignore the way his cologne still lingers, the smell engulfing your nose, suffocating you. 

You would give anything to be completely invisible right now. 

But would you give everything to make what you both shared disappear? The answer is a simple no. 

Yes, the whole situation is completely crazy. Yes, the talk of sex still makes you uncomfortable. But Lip is so sweet and gentle with his approach to whatever the hell you two are doing together. He makes this otherwise scary experience so much better. 

His presence completely clouds your mind for most of the lesson. His voice…his moans…are forever burned into your soul. Squeezing your legs together to release any sort of tension that is definitely building. 

You feel the shift of his desk on the back of your chair again, his overwhelming presence oozing from behind as he leans slightly over your shoulder, “Did you have a good weekend?” Lip whispers against your ear. His hot breath sending goose bumps down your body as you almost choke on his words

Fuck.

He knows damn well that you had a good weekend, that you had a great weekend. And he knows damn well that that little comment is sending your mind back to the sweet bliss of his fingers deep inside of you. A brief sigh of frustration escapes you because you can’t live in your dirty memories forever. Curse Lip Gallagher and his stupid fingers for making you feel so good. 

But how are you supposed to respond to him? Should you try to play his little game, knowing that you suck at any sort of dirty talk. Should you play it cool and act like nothing happened? Even though he could probably spot you bluffing a mile away. Lip had that effect on you, being unable to lie in his presence has definitely led you to explaining way more about your life than you want too. 

“It was fine.” You manage to force the words out of your dry mouth.

“Just fine?”

No it was fucking fantastic. The best thing that could have ever happened to you! Is that what he wants to hear? Probably is. 

You chose not to answer him and go back to listening to the lesson, or pretending to anyway. 

After a few moments, you feel a tap on your shoulder and a note appears. Grabbing the folded piece of paper quickly and unwrapping the contents in your lap. 

Meet me in the hallway - Lip

The hallway? 

He wants to talk with you now? Does he need to end it before it gets too far? Can’t he at least wait until class is over?

You can’t even begin to process the information before your heart starts beating rapidly. Your mind racing faster and faster with each passing moment. The hurtful scenarios starts to cloud your mind, prematurely bruising your ego before the conversation even happens.

You slump in your chair, messily writing K on the note before tossing it back to Lip. You think better to have him break your heart when all the other students are in class so then you can hide your tear stained cheeks in peace. 

You hear the paper crinkle as he reads the note and then folds it back up again. Barely any time passes before Lip’s hand shoots up in the air, interrupting Mr.S's monologue. 

“Yes, Mr. Gallgher.” His long face hardly moves, his eyes piercing into Lip like bullets above his small framed glasses. 

“I have to use the bathroom.” Lip’s voice is more invasive this time as it’s not just a whisper. Your foot shakes rapidly as you just need a second to process him.

The teacher shakes his head in approval as a response, the way he nods basically tells Lip to get out before he changes his mind. Lip loudly stands up and walks out of the classroom, not even turning around to give you any sort of signal that you should follow him.

Your eyes follow Lip until he is completely gone and the door closed behind him. Then your gaze immediately shifts to the clock. How much time should pass before you meet him? Would anyone notice that you two decide to leave at the same time? Would anyone actually care?

You start to slightly panic as you now have to think of some excuse to leave class. You can’t say you’re using the bathroom as Mr.S will just make you wait until Lip is back. 

Think, think, think. 

Your head shoots up into the air quickly, your mind racing before you even have a chance to develop a plan. 

“Yes?” Mr.S’s tone reeks of annoyance. 

“I have to go to the nurse.” The words fumble their way out of your dry mouth.

“And why is that?” He questions, his small eyes peering over his glasses into you.

“Period pain.” You say swiftly and everyone’s eyes shift in your direction. You wonder if they are able to tell you are lying. Your gaze focused on the front of the room as Mr.S walks over to his desk, grabs a pen and scribbles some nonsense on a pink slip. 

You quickly stuff the contents that are scattered across your desk into your backpack before walking to the front of the room and taking the pink slip out of his hand. 

The sound of the classroom door clicking behind you sends a shock through your body. Now what? Sure you agreed to meet Lip out in the hall but what was supposed to happen when you actually came face to face with him. 

You take a needed deep breath before looking around the hallway for any sign of Lip. Surprisingly he is nowhere to be found. You feel almost stupid for getting so worked up over a note now that you are standing here by yourself. 

You whisper his name into the empty hallway in case he is hiding. Maybe he really did have to go to the bathroom. Did he want to meet you in the bathroom? No, he explicitly wrote hallway. 

You start to walk down the corridor, towards the bathrooms to give him the benefit of the doubt. But just as you turn the corner you bump right into Lip’s chest. The collision gumbling your mind as you tightly wrap your fingers in his shirt to stabilize yourself. His hands instantly find your waist to pull you closer. 

“Crazy seeing you here.” His words are hot against your face. His forehead barely touches yours as your gaze meets his. His smell is even more intoxicating up close, even more suffocating. 

You forcefully push him away from you, his face changing from his lazy smile to a hard stare. Your emotions are running wild, gambling any and all thoughts as you are waiting for the inevitable to happen. And the fact that he is acting so nonchalant, so casual when he is about to ruin any good thing that happened to you is making this interaction turn more sour than it needs to be. 

Your eyes shift downwards, “Look Lip,” you take a deep breath, “just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” He sounds confused and if you were really paying attention you may be able to hear the pain in his tone. But you are trying to block him out, needing to block him out to protect yourself from the pain.

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes beginning to swell, glossing over under the harsh fluorescent lights. Your voice barely moves than a whisper, “This,” your hand gesturing to the both of you. Now here comes the pain laced with your voice, “whatever is going on between us. Just end it quickly and get it over with so I can get out of here with the little dignity I have left. I can’t keep doing-”

“Stop, stop.” Lip waves his hands in the air. “I definitely don’t want to end this.” He steps closer to you. Your face softens as he reaches for your hands, his fingers playing with yours as he lightly pulls you towards him. “I definitely do not want to end whatever this is between us.”

“Oh.” Is all you can manage as you stare into his soft eyes. Your chest moving heavily again as you are finally able to breathe at his words. A small laugh is shared between you two as you realized you may have gotten ahead of the situation.

“So are you really going to tell me how your weekend was?” His voice is a gentle whisper, making your head float and your stomach sink.

Eyes shifting downwards where the tips of your shoes meet his. “Lip…”

“Because I was finger deep in a super hot chick.” He says it so plainly, so easily. The words dripped like liquid off of his tongue. 

“Lip…” You whine, your voice bouncing around the empty walls. 

His forehead rests on yours, taking in a sharp breath. Your name hangs gently on his tongue, pulling his lips into a slight smile, “Do you know what you do to me when you say my name like that?” He carefully guides you by your belt loops to lean against the lockers, the cold metal mixed with the heat of Lip raises goosebumps under your skin. He clears his throat, regains his composure, continuing to close the gap between the two of you, “Did anything like that happen to you this weekend?” 

Your heart is beating so fast you swear Lip is able to feel it. His hot fingers dust lightly underneath your shirt hem as he just stares into your eyes, into your soul. You grow easily insecure as you stumble over your words, unsure what you’re supposed to say.  “You know I’m not good at this dirty talk stuff.”

This answer prompts a deep laugh from Lip. His right up reaches to push some hair behind your ear, taking his time to savor this moment. This moment of complete silence, like the world is waiting for him to continue. 

He finally fills the empty void, his voice more even than before, “Honestly, I didn't think I’d be able to control myself around you today. Almost had to skip completely just to process what’s been happening,” His fingers trail your jaw line, finally stopping when his thumb comes in contact with your bottom lip. 

He gulps as his eyes are only fixated on your mouth, “Have you ever been kissed before?” His eyes finally flicker to meet yours. 

The heat rises to your cheeks in shame. Of course you’ve never been kissed before. Unlike sex though, you have thought about kissing before. You’ve definitely thought about kissing Lip, wondering how it would be. Your shifting gaze is answer enough for him. 

“Would you like to?” His question is so sweet and sincere. He wants to be the first one to kiss you. He wants to be the only one you ever kiss. He so desperately wants you to say yes, so badly wants to pull you close and take your breath away. He wants to explain everything that he is feeling with this kiss. Wants you to know how badly he needs this.  

God, yes you want Lip to kiss you. But you’re scared, scared of what may happen when you two finally do. Kissing someone and being this close to Lip somehow seems so much more intimate than the other night when you were at his house. 

You can tell he wants to kiss you right now, the way his tongue licks his bottom lip. The way his bedroom eyes shift from your gaze to your pillowy lips. All motion has stopped from him as he just waits for you to give him the green light.

“What if I’m not good.” You manage to speak quietly, not knowing how to tell him that you’re scared.

“I’ll teach you.” He half smiles.

You begin to stumble over any and all words, “You-you’ve just been with so many girls.”

“And yet none of them make me as fucking crazy like you do.” His confession pushes all the air from your lungs, making you audibly gasp. But instead of wanting to air, you desperately want him. 

He starts to move slowly towards you, his nose brushing against yours. The twirling of your breaths mixing together. He’s gentle, which is a weird word to be using for Lip Gallagher. You’ve seen the way he kisses and he’s anything but gentle.

But he stops just inches from your mouth, hot air coating your lips, “Just tell me you want me.” His words turn you into a mess. You can feel your panties starting to soak through. The effect that this man has on you is too great.

“I want you.”

Those three small words are music to Lip as he doesn’t waste another second to close the gap between the two of you. Capturing your mouth in his, your bodies pressed together as you deepen into him. The taste of Lip Gallagher is sweet and intoxicating. 

But he is anything but gentle, the kiss is overwhelming as if he needs you to breathe. As if he cannot get enough of the way you taste, of the way you feel, of the way you smell. 

Heavy pants fill the space between you as he pulls back, a small whine escaping you as you don’t want this to stop. You never want it to stop. 

His thumb trails over your bottom swollen lip as your mouth pulls into a smile. Your heart is beating so quickly and you are floating, never wanting to crash down, wishing so deeply that you weren’t at school right now. 

“We should probably get back before someone gets suspicious,” You say.

Lip audibly groans out of frustration as he shares the same thoughts as you. “Yeah,” he finally replies. “But you are definitely coming over later.” 

You smile, “Definitely.”

He kisses you one last time, deeply. Your lips still tingle even moments after he is gone and the two of you are walking back to class together. The sweet taste of Lip is forever ingrained in your memory. 

I hope you liked it!! Let me know what you think in the comments!! Love you <3

[gothicxreylover]

Good day! I have another scenario in mind that I'd like to request: the Hashira (+ the Uzui wives), Kanao & Aoi with a foreign y/n. I actually have a couple of foreign reader scenarios so this is probably the 1st one 😄

Okay, so foreign y/n is doing their best to learn Japanese diligently the way we do irl. Since Kanji characters are a big challenge, y/n has to practice writing them numerous times. However, being a fast learner, they quickly proceed to tackle more complex Kanji. And the good way to do start is to write people's names.

In y/n's notebook, there are full names of their friends written repeatedly. Prior to that, y/n went around asking their friends how their names were written in both Kanji and Hiragana, and asked them to show how to correctly write the Kanji characters. So I lowkey think that y/n's s/o might get jealous of seeing other people's names aside from THEIRS written with sm care and precision.

P.S: I feel quite bad for keeping sending you these requests the past few days as I'm concerned that you might have a lot on your plate atm. I'd hate for you to feel the pressure of having to rush to finish our requests asap. But your writing is great and I keep wanting to read more (or I'm just overthinking 🥲)

As always, take your time and have a great day!

The Hashira (+ Uzui’s Wives, Kanao & Aoi) React to Their Foreign S/O Practicing Kanji with Everyone’s Names

I HOPE YOU ENJOY SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT❤️

You had been studying Kanji tirelessly, dedicating yourself to learning the complex characters that made up the names of your friends and loved ones. Your notebook was filled with page after page of carefully written characters, each stroke placed with precision as you committed them to memory. Since names were an important part of learning, you had gone around asking everyone how theirs was written in both Kanji and Hiragana, then had them demonstrate the correct stroke order.

Of course, you thought nothing of it—until your significant other happened to see your notebook… and noticed whose names you had written most frequently.

Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu had never been the type to hover or pry, so when he happened to pass by as you were practicing, he simply glanced at your notebook.

“You’ve been working hard,” he murmured, his voice as quiet and steady as always.

You smiled up at him. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of stroke order. Kanji is still difficult, though.”

He nodded, watching as your hand moved smoothly across the page. His gaze softened at the way you carefully traced each character, your dedication evident in every mark of ink. However, as his eyes drifted down the page, his expression changed ever so slightly.

Kocho Shinobu.

The name was written over and over, each iteration just as meticulous as the last. He noticed other names, too—Mitsuri Kanroji, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Tengen Uzui—but what stuck out to him the most was the sheer number of times you had written Shinobu’s name compared to the others.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve written Kocho’s name… quite a lot.”

You glanced at the page, blinking. “Oh, yeah. She was helping me with stroke order, so I practiced with hers first.”

Giyuu was quiet for a moment. He knew there was no real reason to be bothered, but for some reason, the idea that you had spent so much time carefully writing someone else’s name made something stir uncomfortably in his chest.

He wasn’t going to say it outright, but you could tell. The way his gaze lingered, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side—it was subtle, but you’d learned to read him well.

You smiled, setting down your brush. “You know, I was just about to dedicate a whole page to you.”

Giyuu blinked, his blue eyes widening slightly. “You were?”

“Mhm. Want to help me write it?”

He hesitated for only a moment before sitting beside you. His fingers lightly rested on yours as he guided you through each stroke of Tomioka Giyuu. Though his expression remained neutral, you could see the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

Later, when you weren’t looking, he carefully tore out one of the pages with his name and tucked it into his uniform.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro was absolutely thrilled to see how dedicated you were to learning. The moment he saw you practicing, he beamed with pride.

“Splendid! You are making great progress!” he declared, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as he leaned over your shoulder to inspect your work.

You grinned at his energy, always appreciating the way he encouraged you. “It’s still a little hard, but I think I’m improving.”

“I have no doubt! Your diligence is inspiring!”

However, as his eyes drifted across the page, his usual radiant expression faltered just a little. He wasn’t one to get jealous easily, but when he noticed that Sanemi’s name was written significantly more than his, something inside him stiffened.

“Oh?” His voice remained steady, but the slight pause before he spoke was uncharacteristic. “You have written Shinazugawa’s name many times, I see.”

You glanced at your notebook, completely oblivious to his change in demeanor. “Oh! Yeah, he helped me with some radicals, so I practiced using his name.”

“I see, I see…” Kyojuro nodded, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his golden eyes. He wasn’t necessarily upset—he knew it was just practice—but still…

He suddenly clapped a hand on your shoulder. “In that case, I believe you should practice with a true challenge! My name, written in the boldest, most flame-like strokes imaginable!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics, but the way his eyes gleamed told you he was completely serious.

And so, you dedicated an entire page to Rengoku Kyojuro, each character written with the fiery energy he deserved.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu had been the one to teach you stroke order in the first place, so she was already aware of your diligent practice. However, what she hadn’t expected was to see Mitsuri’s name written so many times in your notebook.

She had just been passing by when she caught sight of the page filled with careful repetitions of Kanroji Mitsuri. Her ever-present smile didn’t waver, but something in her golden eyes sharpened.

“My, my,” she murmured, her voice light as ever. “It seems you’ve taken quite an interest in Kanroji’s name.”

You looked up at her, blinking in surprise. “Oh, well, Mitsuri’s name was really fun to write. The strokes flow really well.”

Shinobu tilted her head, the same sweet smile still gracing her lips. “Is that so?”

There was something in her tone that made you pause. It wasn’t quite jealousy—no, Shinobu was too composed for that. But there was a teasing edge, a subtle warning hidden beneath her usual playful demeanor.

You set your brush down, smiling at her. “Would you like me to practice yours next?”

Her smile widened, and she hummed in approval. “Oh, only if you want to, of course.”

(You had a strong feeling that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.)

And so, you spent the next hour writing Kocho Shinobu over and over, while she sat beside you, very pleased with herself.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi wasn’t one to pay attention to things like handwriting or study materials, so when he passed by your workspace and saw you scribbling in your notebook, he barely gave it a glance.

At first.

But then something caught his eye, making him pause. His sharp gaze honed in on the page filled with carefully written names—some in delicate, practiced strokes, others a little rougher as you worked to perfect them.

And there, right in the middle of the page, was Himejima Gyomei’s name.

Not just once. Not twice. But over and over again.

Sanemi’s brow twitched. “Oi.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on your writing.

“The hell is this?” He snatched the notebook off the table before you could react, flipping through the pages with a deepening scowl. “Why is Himejima’s name all over this thing?”

You blinked at him. “Oh! He was helping me with proper stroke balance, so I practiced with his name for a while.”

Sanemi’s frown deepened. His grip on your notebook tightened slightly. “You practiced with his name?” His voice had that low, dangerous edge to it. “What, my name too damn hard for you?”

You let out a laugh, reaching for the notebook, but he yanked it just out of reach. “No, actually, yours is really complicated. I was saving it for later.”

“Tch.” Sanemi still looked irritated, but there was the faintest hint of red on his ears. His thumb ran over the edge of the paper as he stared at your careful penmanship, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

After a moment, he dropped the notebook back onto the table and crossed his arms. “Write mine.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Oh? You want me to—”

“Just do it.” He muttered, gaze averted.

With a chuckle, you dipped your brush into the ink and started writing Shinazugawa Sanemi over and over again. The entire time, he stood behind you, watching intently—arms still crossed, lips pressed in a firm line, but his posture just a little less tense.

And later, when he thought you weren’t looking, he ripped out the page and tucked it into his uniform.

Obanai Iguro

Obanai wasn’t the type to get openly jealous, but he was exceptionally observant. And right now, as he stood silently behind you, watching you scribble Kanji with intense concentration, his mismatched eyes caught something that made his muscles stiffen.

You had written Rengoku Kyojuro’s name.

Over and over.

The deliberate care in each stroke, the repeated precision, the sheer amount—it all gnawed at something deep inside him.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, staring at the page. Then, finally, his voice came out cool and controlled.

“You’ve written Rengoku’s name quite a lot.”

You nearly jumped, not realizing he was standing so close. “Oh! Obanai, you scared me.”

He didn’t respond to that. His gaze remained fixed on the notebook.

You followed his line of sight before giving him a sheepish smile. “Ah… yeah. Kyojuro has a fun name to write. He also taught me a good technique for balanced strokes.”

Obanai’s jaw clenched ever so slightly, though his voice remained neutral. “I see.”

You could feel the shift in his demeanor—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way Kaburamaru coiled a little tighter around his neck.

You sighed, setting your brush down. “Would you like me to practice yours now?”

A pause. Then, a quiet, “Yes.”

You hid your grin as you flipped to a fresh page. “Alright then.”

As you carefully wrote Iguro Obanai over and over, he watched closely, his gaze never leaving your hands. When you were done, he reached out and gently took the page between his fingers, examining it in silence.

Satisfied, he gave a small nod. “Keep this one.”

You chuckled. “Why?”

His gaze flickered to you. “Because your strokes are finally precise enough.”

(But really, you knew he just wanted to keep it for himself.)

Tengen Uzui & His Wives

Tengen prided himself on being flashy, confident, and above all, the most important person in your life. So when he casually glanced at your notebook and saw Tokito Muichiro’s name written more times than his, he audibly gasped.

“You’ve written Muichiro’s name more than mine?!” He clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back as if you had just personally wounded him. “How unbelievably unflashy!”

Before you could even respond, Makio stomped over and snatched the notebook from the table. “Hold on—why isn’t my name here at all?!”

Suma, already in tears, wailed, “Do you love Aoi more than me?!”

Hinatsuru, ever the voice of reason, simply chuckled and patted your shoulder. “You should probably write ours next, dear.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Guys, I haven’t even gotten to your names yet—”

“No excuses!” Tengen interrupted, flipping the notebook open to a blank page. He grabbed a brush and practically shoved it into your hand. “Right now. Write Uzui Tengen in the largest, flashiest script possible.”

Makio huffed. “Mine too. And make it just as big as his.”

Suma sniffled. “And—and mine with little hearts next to it—”

Hinatsuru smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind a few elegant flourishes on mine.”

You groaned in defeat, but secretly, you were amused by how deeply invested they all were. And so, for the next hour, you meticulously wrote each of their names in the most extravagant calligraphy you could manage.

By the end of it, your hand was cramping, your ink supply was nearly depleted, and Tengen was holding up the notebook like a prized work of art.

“Now this is proper dedication!” he declared proudly.

Makio nodded in satisfaction. “Much better.”

Suma threw herself into your arms, sobbing dramatically. “I forgive youuuu!”

Hinatsuru just chuckled, kissing your cheek. “We really do appreciate it, sweetheart.”

You let out a tired laugh. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Tengen grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “And yet, you love us anyway.”

And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.

Mitsuri Kanr oji

Mitsuri was delighted when she first saw you practicing Kanji. She thought it was so cute how dedicated you were, and she showered you with praise the moment she saw your notebook.

“Wow! You’re amazing, Y/N-chan! You’ve written so much!” she gushed, leaning over your shoulder with sparkling eyes.

You beamed at her enthusiasm. “I still have a long way to go, but I think I’m improving!”

She giggled. “Oh, I’m sure you are! Let’s see what you’ve been practicing—”

And then, she saw it.

Right there, in the middle of the page, over and over again, was Iguro Obanai.

Her expression didn’t immediately change, but you noticed the way her cheerful energy faltered just slightly.

“You’ve been practicing Iguro-san’s name a lot,” she murmured, her voice still sweet, but with the slightest hint of something… off.

You blinked, glancing at the page. “Oh! Yeah, he helped me with stroke order, so I used his name for a while.”

Mitsuri’s lips pursed, her usual pout appearing. “I see…”

You turned to look at her fully and immediately recognized the signs. The tiny pout. The slightly puffed cheeks. The way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

Mitsuri Kanroji was pouting.

You chuckled, setting your brush down. “Mitsuri, are you jealous?”

Her eyes widened. “Wha—no! Of course not! I mean—” She fidgeted even more, her cheeks turning pink. “I just thought maybe you would’ve practiced with my name first, that’s all…”

Your heart melted at how adorable she was. You reached out, taking her hand. “Do you want me to write yours now?”

She perked up immediately. “Really?! You’d do that?!”

“Of course.” You flipped to a new page and carefully wrote Kanroji Mitsuri in the neatest script possible. Mitsuri watched with a lovestruck expression, swaying happily beside you.

And later, when she thought you weren’t looking, she carefully tore out the page and tucked it into her sleeve, pressing it to her chest with a dreamy sigh.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro was passing by when he caught sight of your notebook, his curiosity piqued when he saw all the careful Kanji written on the page.

“You’re practicing?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been working on stroke order.”

Muichiro hummed, scanning the page absentmindedly. His mind tended to drift, but when his eyes landed on a particular name, something inside him snapped into focus.

Kyojuro Rengoku.

It was written multiple times, each character precise and elegant.

Muichiro stared at it, his usual sleepy expression unreadable. “You wrote Rengoku’s name a lot.”

You barely glanced up. “Oh, yeah. He helped me with balance techniques, so I practiced with his name for a while.”

Muichiro said nothing, but his presence suddenly felt much heavier. His usual cloud-like demeanor darkened slightly, and his teal eyes sharpened in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, he plucked the brush from your hand.

“…Write mine,” he said flatly.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

“My name,” he repeated, his voice eerily calm. “Write it now.”

You gulped. Why did this suddenly feel like an order?

Without questioning further, you quickly flipped to a new page and began writing Tokito Muichiro as neatly as possible.

Muichiro’s intense stare never wavered. He watched each stroke carefully, nodding in silent approval as you filled the page. Once you were finished, he picked up the notebook, flipped back to the page with Rengoku’s name, and—

Tore it out.

You gawked at him. “Muichiro—”

“It’s fine,” he said, slipping the paper into his sleeve as if nothing had happened. “You don’t need this anymore.”

And with that, he wandered off, looking completely unbothered.

Meanwhile, you sat there, gaping at the missing page.

Did… did Muichiro just erase Kyojuro from your practice records???

Kanao Tsuyuri

Kanao had been quietly observing your progress, always fascinated by how determined you were to learn. She admired your dedication, though she never voiced it aloud.

One day, as she passed by, she saw you practicing again and leaned in curiously.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice her at first. But when she suddenly spoke, you nearly jumped.

“You’ve written Aoi’s name a lot,” she murmured.

You looked at the page. Indeed, Aoi’s name was scribbled multiple times.

“Oh, yeah! She helped me a lot, so I used her name for practice,” you explained.

Kanao stared at the page, then at you. There was no immediate shift in her expression, but something about the way she clutched her coin told you she was thinking.

After a few moments, she held out her hand. “Write mine.”

You smiled, flipping to a fresh page. “Of course.”

As you wrote Tsuyuri Kanao over and over, she watched with the slightest glimmer of satisfaction in her violet eyes. And once you were done, she took the page for herself, slipping it into her sleeve without a word.

Aoi Kanzaki

Aoi sighed when she saw your notebook, hands on her hips. “You’re still practicing? Don’t overwork yourself.”

You chuckled. “I’m okay. I want to get better.”

She peered over your shoulder—and then, her eye twitched.

Because right there, in painstakingly neat handwriting, was Shinobu Kocho.

Multiple times.

Aoi immediately narrowed her eyes. “Why is Kocho’s name written so much?”

You blinked, confused by her sudden shift. “Huh? Oh, she helped me a lot, so I practiced with her name.”

Aoi huffed, crossing her arms. “I see…”

Her usual sharp tone masked her emotions well, but you knew better. You smirked. “You’re jealous.”

“Wha—I am not!” She turned away, cheeks turning pink. “It’s just… If you’re practicing, you should’ve used mine first!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, flipping to a fresh page. “Alright, alright. Aoi Kanzaki, coming up.”

As you wrote her name, she muttered something under her breath—but you caught it.

“…Make it better than Kocho’s.”

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei had been quietly observing your progress for a while, always patient and supportive.

One day, he approached you as you practiced and knelt beside you. “You are doing well, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Gyomei-san.”

Then, he felt your notebook, his large hands tracing over the pages. “May I?”

You handed it to him, and he carefully flipped through the pages, his blind eyes scanning the indentations of ink.

After a moment, he sighed deeply. “…You have written many names.”

You tilted your head. “Yes?”

His lips pressed together. “But mine is not here.”

Your eyes widened. Oh no.

He exhaled, his massive shoulders sagging slightly. “Am I… not important to you?”

Panicked, you immediately grabbed your brush and filled an entire page with Himejima Gyomei, each stroke filled with pure dedication.

Gyomei felt the fresh ink and nodded solemnly.

“…I will keep this safe,” he murmured, tucking it inside his robes.

(You were pretty sure he was smiling.)

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ Ellie loves you ✞⛧

Warnings: self-deprecation, emotional vulnerability, insecurity, body image issues, comforting dialogue, fluff, tender moments, slight teasing, soft angst, college au Ellie

Word count: 1.3k

You were sitting on the edge of your dorm bed, fingers mindlessly flipping through a worn-out notebook, your gaze unfocused. It wasn’t like you were actively trying to be in a bad mood, but everything seemed off today. Maybe it was the mess in the room or the annoying guy who knocked into you on the way to class. Maybe it was that stupid argument with your roommate about laundry. Either way, the frustration was building, and you could feel it in your chest. It made your skin crawl with irritation, and before you knew it, the muttering started.

You weren’t even aware that you were speaking out loud, but the words came anyway.

“I hate my hair. It’s always so flat and messy. Why can’t I just—ugh, why do I even bother? I hate how I look in these jeans. They’re too tight, and I feel like a damn sausage. And why is my face always breaking out? It’s like, what’s even the point of skincare? I’m so bad at everything, always…”

You trailed off, taking a breath, not even realizing how much you had spiraled in such a short amount of time. You’d been so caught up in your own head, you hadn’t noticed Ellie standing in the doorway of your room. The soft sound of her voice broke the silence, and you froze mid-rant.

“You know, I didn’t realize I was dating a comedian.”

You blinked, lifting your gaze to see her leaning against the doorframe. She had that damn smirk on her face, the one that always got to you. Her green eyes twinkled, but there was something more behind them—something that made you feel like she could see right through the tough exterior you’d put up.

“You’re really gonna sit there and complain about yourself when I’m trying to tell you how amazing you are?”

You frowned, your shoulders slumping as you looked away. “I’m not amazing, Ellie. I’m just… me. And I don’t like it.”

Ellie pushed herself off the doorframe, moving toward you with that lazy confidence she always carried, like she was ready to prove you wrong. You tried to avoid eye contact, but she wasn’t having any of it.

Before you could respond, she sat next to you on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them, her messy brown hair falling over her forehead as she gave you that familiar sideways grin.

“Alright,” she started, leaning in a little closer. “If you’re gonna go on and on about what you don’t like about yourself, then I’m gonna hit you with a list of what I do like about you.”

You raised an eyebrow, still not looking at her. “You’re gonna try to cheer me up? I’m not sure that’s gonna work.”

Ellie’s grin only grew wider. “Oh, trust me, babe. This is gonna work. You ready?”

You shot her a half-hearted glance. She looked so damn sure of herself, and despite your mood, you couldn’t help but feel a little curiosity rise. You sighed, folding your arms across your chest.

“Go ahead,” you muttered.

Ellie leaned back slightly, as if preparing for a long, epic speech. She took a deep breath, her expression shifting from playful to earnest. And then she started, her voice steady and warm, almost like she was reciting poetry.

“First of all, I love how your eyes light up when you’re passionate about something. Like when you talk about the books you’re reading, or when you’re telling me about some random fact you learned and can’t wait to share with me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how easily the words flowed from her. You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, though the tension in your chest began to ease.

Ellie kept going, her eyes focused on you now, as if she could see everything beneath your tough exterior.

“I love how you’re always so kind, even when you think you’re being hard on yourself. You make everyone feel welcome, you know? I’ve seen you with people who are struggling, and you always know exactly what to say to make them feel better. It’s something I could never do.”

Her voice softened a little, like the words were making her vulnerable too. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. But Ellie didn’t notice, or maybe she just didn’t care.

“And your hair?” Ellie said, scooting a little closer, her voice teasing now. “That messy, wild hair of yours? It’s my favorite thing. Every time I see you with it in that stupid ponytail, I think to myself, ‘Damn, she’s perfect just like that.’”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at that, shaking your head despite yourself.

Ellie nudged you with her shoulder, a playful grin crossing her face. “And those jeans you’re complaining about?” She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a half-smirk. “Honestly, they look damn good on you. Like, really good. Trust me, I notice these things.”

You rolled your eyes, but the blush creeping across your face made you look away, your heart skipping a beat.

Ellie wasn’t done yet. She had a lot more to say, and it wasn’t all about your appearance.

“And your brain? You’re so smart. Like, I don’t even know how you manage to fit all that knowledge in there without your head exploding. I’m not talking about school stuff either; I’m talking about life. You’re sharp, you get things in a way that most people don’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just let her words sit in the air, feeling that weight of honesty settle in your chest.

“And I haven’t even gotten to your heart,” Ellie continued, her voice quieter now, more sincere. She placed a hand on your shoulder, and for a moment, everything felt still, like the world outside didn’t exist.

“You’re one of the most caring people I know, even if you don’t show it all the time. When you care about something or someone, you go all in. You’re there for the people who need you. You’re always ready to fight for them. And that’s not something you see every day.”

You felt something in your chest tighten at her words. You didn’t know how she could see all of this in you when all you saw was your own flaws. But somehow, Ellie saw something else. Something you didn’t even know how to recognize in yourself.

“You get me, you know that?” Ellie added softly, her voice tinged with something softer than usual. “You make me feel like I’m not the screw-up I always think I am. You make me feel like I’m worth something. So don’t go beating yourself up for stupid stuff, okay?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and for the first time all day, the tight knot of frustration inside of you began to loosen. You turned to Ellie, meeting her gaze for the first time since she started her rant. She was staring at you with a mix of tenderness and determination, her green eyes full of warmth.

“You’ve got no idea how much I needed to hear that,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Ellie smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. I’m just doing my job as your girlfriend, babe. But seriously, stop being so hard on yourself.”

You finally let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, the weight of her words lifting you. Maybe you weren’t perfect. Maybe you had your flaws. But the way Ellie saw you—really saw you—made it feel like none of that mattered.

You shifted closer to her, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. “Thanks, Ellie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ellie chuckled, hugging you back with that same quiet confidence. “You’ll never have to find out.”

[blackcatxmagic]

Nodding, Winter agreed, "Yeah, especially me. I mean...I always have honey here. It's sort of my thing. But I need different ways to enjoy it or else I'll...well, stop enjoying it, you know? And I don't want that because..." Winter trailed off; he knew what he was about to say, but he also knew it might sound stupid. Still, he said it anyway, telling Stoker, "It's so much a part of who I am, beekeeping and selling my honey and all of that, and I kind of don't know who I would be without it." There was one thing though that Winter didn't say out loud: that his bees brought him so much comfort because sometimes it felt like they were the only ones to truly understand him. Their bond was unexplainable and deep, and Winter truly loved them. But he thought that might be too much for Stoker. It seemed like the other understood Winter's point though, and that made him smile. Yes, he was glad the two of them had met.

Upon giving the honey to his new friend, Winter saw his reaction, which made him smile even more in turn. It always felt good to him to make other people happy, and he already knew he'd be giving Stoker another free jar of honey at some point. "It's no big deal," he said, still grinning at them. "I mean...I've got more honey than I can manage sometimes." Right now he didn't have quite as much because it was winter, but he still had more than enough to sell at the markets for the next couple of months. And besides, that wasn't Winter's livelihood anyway - he'd only ever done this because he loved it, not as a job. "I wanted to do something nice for you," he said softly. "I just...I always appreciate when people like me." Winter felt himself getting a little vulnerable now, and he blushed slightly, but still he continued. "Sometimes people think I'm weird or are put-off by the fact that my memory is so terrible," Winter explained further, "so I just...I'm glad you're not one of those people." His cheeks were just a little redder now, but Winter didn't feel embarrassed; he felt like Stoker would understand.

And that was why Winter found himself talking further about the memory issues - he could tell that Stoker wouldn't judge him or make an excuse to leave or something (at least he hoped not). "It's...it's been hard," Winter explained. "I don't even remember how to drive. You know that car in the driveway? That's mine, but it's pretty useless to me. And...and it's not just like a couple of notes." He walked over to a drawer nearby and pulled it open, taking out a stack of notes and holding them up to show Stoker. "See what I mean?" He didn't want to dwell on it too much, but it just felt nice being able to open up about this. There were some things Winter didn't say though, like how he was afraid to even try learning how to drive again because he was worried he wouldn't be able to retain anything he learned. This felt too personal to reveal though, at least for right now. Stoker had nothing but positive and encouraging things to say, and their support made Winter smile, feeling a little less self-conscious. "I'm getting by," he replied, "I am. It's just...it's hard sometimes, and it's embarrassing too." His cheeks were just a little red now, but mostly Winter felt safe and comfortable with his new friend, and he appreciated that greatly.

After the pair had made their tea, Winter sat at the counter with Stoker, taking a sip. "Another way I like honey is on toast," he told Stoker. "Just like drizzled on. If you haven't tried it, well..." He trailed off, nodding toward the jar of honey he'd given the other, a smile on his face. For a couple more minutes, they sat there enjoying their tea, and Winter asked, "So what do you like to do in your free time, Stoker? I guess we still don't know a ton about each other, do we?" Winter felt like Stoker could end up being a good friend, but he wanted to know them more. He removed a small notebook from his pocket as well as a pen, blushing slightly once more. "Is it okay if I take notes?" Winter asked the other.

Stoker laughed. "I am a tea person, yeah. I'm a bit of an avid drinker in general, so I'm a big fan of a lot of drinks, but tea has always been up there with my favourites," they explained, giving a completely unnecessary long winded answer, not unlike Stoker. "I think that's a perfectly acceptable reason to be a tea drinker," Stoker shrugged. "I mean, if you stuck to straight honey all the time I feel like you'd be more likely to get sick of it by now," which definitely wouldn't be a very good thing for someone who was so involved with the making of honey.

"For me?" Stoker confirmed, the smile already on his face growing larger. While he knew that Winter was kind and generous, he didn't expect a whole bottle from his best batch of the year, and that oddly touched Stoker. "Thank you very much, Winter. I'll treat it like liquid gold," he chuckled. He already knew that Silas would be benefitting from the gift too, which made Stoker feel hopeful that he could pay Winter back by sending Silas and his thick wallet his way with some business.

The switch up in conversation to the topic of Winter's accident was one that surprised Stoker so very much, but it wasn't unwelcome. If anything, Stoker valued honesty, particularly when it was honesty regarding something so vulnerable. "You haven't told me this before," Stoker reassured him. "I think the notes are a great way of managing that, that's a really smart use of resources," Stoker's words were completely honest, and his tone was relatively stable; he didn't want to come across like he was pitying Winter in a way that would make him feel less than other's without issues similar. "I know my words are just, well, words, but you don't need to hide them from me." Stoker didn't know how deep Winter's embarrassment went, but he truly did want his friend to know that there was no reason to be ashamed.

"Thank you," Stoker was more than happy to busy himself by putting honey into his tea and moving on to a conversation about it instead. While he meant what he said when speaking of Winter's accident, seeing the way that the other reacted to having left a note out, Stoker didn't want to force him to ruminate on the subject. "This smells amazing with the honey in it," he commented, smile as bright as his sparkling, friendly eyes.