#i thought about this the other day in school and i was like... wait i need to control my piss stream to make it quieter right

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

SO WHY DO GOOD GIRLS LIKE BAD GUYS ?! - the biker's route ☆ !

synopsis : leather jackets, motorcycles, a nasty attitude—and a smart ass mouth !! but it's just somethin' about him, y'know ??

an. route 3 is here after making yall wait !!! sorry yall exams r comin up but i hope yall enjoy this part >_<!! also i make a sneaky lil aphmau reference his here bc im very unfunny, enjoy!

when you wake up today, it takes you about 5 minutes to actually get up.

you look to your left and your right, half expecting to be met with another katsuki; maybe this one would be a merman or something?! and yet, nothing.

so you stare at your ceiling and wait. maybe this one will come blast through your bedroom wall like the dragon again..!

nothing, nothing and a whole lotta nothing.

so you finally decide to get up and start your day, things were actually back to normal today. you decide to ignore the slightest twinge of disappointment in your gut but you cheer up a bit when you remember the study date your boyfriend had not so graciously promised you.

you're just about done dressing up, about to tie your uniform tie when there's a knock on your door. katsuki is here to pick you up (despite saying he wouldn't anymore like two days ago, typical.) early and on time as usual, or maybe just a bit too early.

"coming !" you call out, pulling up your socks to line them up comfortably, hobbling towards the door to let your boyfriend in.

you swing the door open, already anticipating to be met with your boyfriend, "you're here ear..ly ?"

you stand corrected, it is him. no horns, no ears or tails..but still...a bit different.

first of all, he's not wearing his uniform, no book bag either. instead he's decked out in a black leather biker jacket, baggy black ripped jeans and silver jewellery around his neck, you catch some rings (and bandages) on his fingers when he reaches up to place a hand against his neck, groaning when it pops. and black combat boots. basically, the whole nine yards for a school day.

"oh." is all you can say, part impressed and partly, mostly, confused.

"thought you were gonna keep me waitin' forever." katsuki said, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. he leans in, tugging you forward by your tie to finish tying it for you.

"wha—i—you just got here." you stuttered "and also, not that i mind, but shouldn't you get dressed for class ?"

your boyfriend looks you up and down, tightly pulling the knot of your tie up properly. you can't help but feel a bit shy at how he's so openly scanning over you.

"nah, fuck that." he shrugs.

okay, now this was strange.

your katsuki with the perfect grades, the stickler, the secret goodie two shoes with perfect attendance wants to skip class?? something was very wrong.

he stands back like nothing happened, shoving his hands in his pockets "anyway, you ready to get outta here or what ?"

"huh ? where are we going ?"

"wherever we wanna, you got anything in mind ?" and he's already turning around, grabbing you by the arm with a smirk.

huh ?

"...is something—"

you can't even finish your question before you hear your name being called loudly, by katsuki. your katsuki, ready for school, book bag and everything just on time to pick you up.

ah, you knew he'd gotten here too damn early.

"dude, this is so creepy."

"how'd this even happen ?!"

"i wonder what type of quirk did this...."

you can catch the beginning of midoriya starting up on his nerdy rambling before sighing. you try tuning your classmates out with a sigh and turn your music up louder in your earbuds.

your homeroom teacher, who had clearly had enough of the surge of bakugou's appearing before him, had allowed this new edgy katsuki (as denki called him, somehow it managed to stick) to attend class. he looked normal enough and didn't look like he'd cause too much trouble, as long as he was attended to, that attendant being you, of course.

"there's another one ?!" you hear mineta cry, surely still traumatised from his experience with the wolfish katsuki almost having him as his early morning snack. the thought makes you laugh. you turn to look at the crowd of your classmates gathered around the twin katsuki's.

kaminari is the first to try and cause mischief, taking his chances since your homeroom teacher was taking a while, and had started a "spot the real bakugou!" contest. the contest was a bit flawed since they were both convinced they were the real original, but you decide not to step in on their fun. (and you have to admit it was a bit entertaining.)

"okay, everyone quiet down please! let's get back on track! " kaminari bellowed, wrapping his hands around his mouth to project his voice.

"gentlemen, whoever can answer this next question will receive..." he sings, drumming his hands on his desk in anticipation, neither katsuki's seem very amused.

kaminari jumps up, dramatically revealing a snickers bar "ta-daaaaa!! a free snickers bar from yours truly! though it's been sitting in my bag for a couple days.." he mutters quietly.

"i don't want that shit." both katsuki's say at the same time.

your entire class errupts into laughter and chaos. you shake your head in amusement and decide to scoot a bit closer to keep listening.

"um..could i request a question ?" midoriya pipes up, raising a hand.

"mister midoriya wishes to request a question ! what do you say, kacchan ?" kaminari the announcer encourages.

"fuck off, nerd!" both katsuki's say again, it's really starting to look like some kind of circus act now. you can't help but laugh along with your classmates.

"midoriya, you have the floor." kaminari giggles, leaning his makeshift fist microphone to your green-haired friends lips.

"how do you feel about having a clone of you ? is it scary ? do you feel connected in a way ? is it—"

kaminari interrupts before midoriya can go full blown geek "please, keep the questions to a minimum, sir !" he energetically spins back around, his chair squeaking loudly as he turns back to your boyfriend and edgysuki. "well, your response ?"

your boyfriend pipes up first with a scoff "like i care, i'm not scared of shit, let alone this dickbag. and no, i don't feel connected to this creep—don't ask me these weird fuckin' questions !"

your boyfriend almost takes this like a real interview, yelling at his childhood friend but diligently staying close to kaminari's fist like it was an actual mic. edgy katsuki seems to think the most important part had been said and doesn't add anything else, although once he spots you in the 'crowd', he makes sure to keep his eyes fixed on you. you quickly look away, your ears burn when you hear him chuckle.

soon after his response your classmates pipe up with more and more questions "oh, oh me ! i have a question !" and "can i go next ?!"s sound inside your class. you're just about to request a random question when sero beats you to it. you kick your legs excitedly, knowing he was always the first one to mess with your boyfriend.

"my question's for both the baku's, actually." he drawls, smirking lazily. he leans back in his chair like he knows he's about to start some shit.

"out of the both of you; who do you think likes yn the most ?"

....

huh.

"wha.." you wheeze, the noise stays stuck in your throat . you feel your ears burn, and it's most definitely intensified by the chorus of "ooooo's" overtaking your class. your class rep tries to save the situation, stating it was surely against the rules to ask such an inappropriate question. you nod to him in appreciation.

"i checked the rule book and this type of question is totally fine actually !" kaminari says.

"what rulebook ?!" you pipe up, embarrassed.

he grins at you, pointing to himself "this rulebook."

fuck, you should've seen that one coming.

"now, an answer if you may..." kaminari snickered bouncing on his chair excitedly, barely able to keep his excitement in check.

your boyfriend's eyes flit to you, likely sensing your embarrassment, his ears turn pink and he scoffs. crossing his arms and readjusting in his chair he grumbles. "this is stupid. m'not answerin' that—"

"—i do, obviously."

....

silence. pure silence after the other katsuki speaks.

"i obviously like her more." he repeats, this time making sure he looks at you while he speaks. he's so sure of himself, arms crossed as well and leaned back so casually with a smirk panting his face.

"...hah?" your boyfriend growls in warning "the fuck you just say..?"

"you got a hearin' problem or somethin' ? quit making me repeat myself, dick cheese." the other katsuki sneers back.

"ya think you like my girl more than me, jackass ?!"

"i know i like my girl more than some extra, shit stain!"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLIN' AN EXTRA, YOU PIECE OF SHIT ?!"

"WHO ELSE WOULD I BE TALKIN' TO BUT YOU, YOU FUCKING MORON ?!"

it's chaos. shouting and howling and absolute chaos. but before things can break out into an all out fist fight, your homeroom teacher finally walks in. barely sparing any of you a glance and setting up his sleeping bag on the floor. until—

"you better all get in your seats by the time i'm finished or so help me..."

you have never moved faster in your life. you're sure you unlocked a hyper speed quirk with the way you zoomed back to your seat, head fixed down on your desk. your homeroom teacher sighs in exasperation, introducing the new katsuki you'd all managed to get very familiar in the span of a few minutes. he makes sure to warn you all with a "behave yourselves." kaminari gulps as he feels the teachers eyes very obviously fixed on him.

safe to say the lesson goes on without a hitch, everyone afraid to breath a little too loud.

you quietly scribbling in your notebook. you hope your teacher can't hear the way your heart hammers against your ribs.

you'd managed to survive your class day under the watchful eye of three people;

mister aizawa, who was already in a bad mood from your earlier predicament with your classmates.

your boyfriend who kept glancing back at you...

...probably because of the third hawk carefully watching you, bad boysuki,( or should you probably call him bullysuki) who was very subtle in chucking paper balls at you while the teachers were looking away. the entire day.

he was seated behind you in the back of the classroom, which gave him plenty of opportunities to kick the back of your chair and look oh, so innocent when you turned around to glare at him. during present mic's english class, he'd dropped his pencil inside the collar of your shirt and barely covered his snort when you shrieked in surprise.

truly, a fucking nuisance. too bad for him, you'd been dating said nuisance for more than a year now and this couldn't phase you in the least.

—before you can reach for your bag, you're brought out of your thoughts by katsuki, the all black one, snatching your bag and throwing it behind his shoulder casually. "you ready to blow this joint or what ?"

"i'm not blowing anything with you, jerk. m'starting to think being insufferable is how you breathe."

"aww. you mad at me, sweetheart ?" he coos, leaning down closer to you. you try not to show your surprise, curling your lip up and rolling your eyes at him. his eyes flit down to your mouth for a short moment. "m'just messin' with you a bit. s'all in good fun."

"it's not funny if you're the only one laughing." you counter. he rolls his eyes playfully. pulling you closer by your arm and leaning in way closer than he needed to.

"fine, s'my bad or whatever. how bout i make it up to you by takin' you out, hm ? got someplace in mind ?"

before you can speak, you're interrupted by your boyfriend snatching you back, causing a surprised noise to clog in your throat.

"she's not going anywhere with you, weirdo." katsuki readjusts his grip on your arm, his palms slightly sweaty. you can already feel he's whole body practically heating up.

bad boy katsuki's smirk is immediately replaced with a scowl, tilting his head back to mean mug your boyfriend. he has a few piercings in his ear too, you notice.

"hah?! s'far as i'm concerned, she hasn't said she was gonna go with anywhere with you."

"she doesn't need to tell you anything. besides, we already have plans. so, fuck. off." katsuki growls, putting extra strain on the fact you and him had a study session planned. the other katsuki doesn't seem to take the news well, cracking his bandages knuckles with a scowl.

"huh, that reminds me. we got interrupted before i got to kick your ass, huh?"

"if you wanna go all you gotta do is say when, pussy—"

before the both of them could start trading blows in the middle of your classroom, you stretch your arms, putting distance between the both of them and surprising them both.

"okay, boys. let's cut it out and use our big boy words okay ?" you sigh, irritated. "since, apparently, you're both toddlers, how about i call the shots here, yeah ?

i'm not going anywhere with either of you if you can't behave yourselves." you turn to look at edgysuki "i had a study date planned, so i unfortunately won't be going out with you. if you wanna come along, be my guest. i have a test coming up so if you test me, i will fuck your life up."

"and you," you turn back to your boyfriend, who's wide eyes are fixed on you "behave, okay ?" you warn, swatting at his chest. he jumps like the action snapped him out of his trance, and looks away with a scoff.

he grunts in agreement but grumbles about it, "should tell that other bastard that..."

that was more than enough for you. "alright, off we go." you usher the boys towards the hallway. your boyfriend moves with quickness, snatching your hand and pulling you away before the other katsuki can get a word in. while walking though, the other katsuki leans in to whisper hotly in your ear.

"that was hot as hell, sweets."

"be quiet." you whine.

"of course you'd get us kicked out of the library—of course of cou—how could i not have known ?!"

currently, you're trying your best to not lose your mind.

the difference between a half human hybrid katsuki and a shoujo bad boy male lead katsuki ? one was wild and untameable and it was definitely not the one you're thinking of.

you're honestly surprised the fucking wolf and dragon were easier to deal with than a biker jacket wearing delinquent.

it had started..okay ? maybe ? then again with any amount of katsuki's, going from 0 to 100 wasn't a hard task. you think maybe bad boysuki had started teasing you too much for your boyfriends liking. as protective as he was, and it sort of would've been flattering(you've always had a think for the delinquent type, okay ?!) if they hadn't started trying to have a showdown for your affection in the middle of a library.

and with the way they'd acted, it wouldn't be a big surprise if you were banned for life.

"i didn't even do shit but he—"

"he swung at me fi—"

"both of you shut the fuck up or so help me..." you groan, rubbing your temples. "i love both of you very much, unfortunately, but i'm only human and right now i'm having to hold back the very human urge of wringing your necks out like geese !" you shriek.

your boyfriend looks at the ground, kicking the toe of his shoe against some rocks, he never liked getting scolded after all. you'd almost feel bad, almost. (you still feel a little bad.)

"he—"

"quiet."

"yeah, quiet, loser." bad boy pipes up.

"you be quiet, too." you point, eyes wide. "you know what ? do whatever you want. fight to the death in the middle of the road like buffoons all you want, i do not care. do not come talk to me until you figure it out or...!" you splutter, trying to think of a fitting punishment "no smoochies for a month!"

your boyfriend's head shoots up, looking at you like you'd just admitted to torching his precious signed all might card "w-what the hell ?! that's basically only punishment for me!"

"figure. it. out." you conclude, turning your nose up and walking away and ignoring your boyfriends calling out for you. god, it was like dealing with two big baby's, and dealing with one was already more than enough!

but even if you are pissed off, your katsuki does have an extremely kissable face, and you don't know if you could hold up your end of the punishment.

you're sitting in your room now absentmindedly thinking about your predicament, study sheets splayed out around you. when you hear a knock at the door. you quickly get up, eager to leave your notes behind and stretch your legs. you're greeted with bad boy katsuki, looking down at the ground clutching something in his hand.

"you left this in the library..." he mutters, looking away and handing you your pencil case. you blink in surprise—you had no idea that you'd left it—but you manage to keep calm.

you clear your throat before responding "oh, thanks."

"should thank that other guy. he's the one that found it an' told me to bring it to you." he admits "even though i was gonna do it too, fuckin' bastard ordering me around..." he grits out, bitter.

your heart warms, your boyfriend was an idiot after all.

"where is katsuki anyway? well, my katsuki that is."

katsuki scoffs a laugh, finally looking back at you "m'right here, sweetheart."

wow, talk about déjà vu.

"but if you're looking for him he went off somewhere, said i should go see you first or whatever."

you sigh in relief "well, i'm glad you guys managed to get along."

"tch. i ain't getting along with that bastard. don't lump me in with him."

"kinda hard to do considering you are the same perso—."

"yeah, whatever���just—look." he steps closer, walking in your space and closing your door behind you. he backs you up until your knees hit the bed and you slump backwards with an "oof!". he has you where he wants you now. quickly shrugging off his jacket, revealing a tight short sleeved shirt (perfectly accentuating his muscles, mind you) his arms placing themselves on either side of your head. you lay there looking up at him speechless, wide eyed.

"it's stuffy in here. should open a window." he explains, eyes locking with yours.

"right..." you gulp.

"your room's a mess, too."

"okay, you can get it out if it bothers you." you snarked, squinting at him.

his eyes soften and he looks down at you seriously again. "look," he repeats"i don't—i'm not good at shit like this. but..." he looks off to the sound, grumbling. you catch how his ears bleed pink.

"i don't like you being mad..or whatever." he knocks his forehead to yours "...so stop it."

you snort "wow, so smooth." you chuckle when he shifts to shove his head into your shoulder with a quick "shut up."

his hands search and feel around until they get to yours, intertwining them. "don't..." the rest of his sentence is muffled into your shirt. "i can't hear you." you say curiously, he groans loudly.

"s-stop making me say embarrassing shit." he pulls his head out to look at you, your noses bump against each other. his lips oh, so close to yours.

"don't go...thinking that other guy likes you more than i do, got it..? and don't go liking him..more than me..." he trails off. eyes locked to yours, he waits for your response. you swallow harshly. you want to lick your lips, but he's so close you're worried they'll touch.

"well, i like the both of you just the same. so you don't need to worry about that." you say, managing to gather your thoughts you wrap your arms around him to pull him into a hug. he grunts, surprised, but melts into you quickly enough.

"guess that's good enough..." he whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck. he laughs when you squeal in surprise.

"i still like you more than him though."

and then, as soon as you blink, he was gone.

katsuki let's out a high pitched gasp when you surprise him in the common room kitchen, wrapping your arms around him.

"bwu—wh—what the hell?! don't just sneak up on me like that, dumbass !" he splutters, trying to make up from the cute little noise he let out. you giggle, squeezing his waist while he groans. he can't pull you off him as he's doing the dishes and that'd cause one big mess. (and since he's already on thin ice and doesn't wanna get his boyfriend privileges revoked, he'll stick this one out.)

he sighs, defeated "did that fucker fuck off yet ?" he asks.

"potty mouth," you laugh "and yeah, he's gone now. thanks for finding my pencil case for me, by the way."

he reaches to pinch you and you groan at the wet feeling on your skin, wiping your arm on his shirt. " keep having to pick up after your forgetful ass. should be more careful instead of having a hissy fit at me."

"don't start with me right now, katsuki."

he chuckles and shrugs, resigned. "you still mad ?"

"i wasn't anymore, but your little remark just made me re-mad at you."

your boyfriend stiffens and whips back to look at you, frowning. he squints, you squint back. after a heated stare down match he concedes and rolls his eyes.

"...sorry."

"meh. 2 points."

"what the hell?!" he groans, his hands splash around in the water causing soap bubbles to fly. you laugh and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. his mouth closes abruptly, surprise filling his features.

"well, i won't be taking away your smoochie privileges, at least."

"don't sneak up on me like that.." he scowls "and you better not. would've become your worst fuckin' nightmare till you gave in."

you snort "yeah, right. more like you'd become the whiniest baby."

"fuck off." he scoffs.

you giggle to yourself quietly. swaying lightly as your boyfriend silently does his job, the clinking of the dishes filling in the silence.

until katsuki decides to speak up. "hey."

"hm?"

"love ya."

your heart jumps, looking up at him as he keeps his back to you. your face heats and katsuki shows no sign of being bothered by your silence, if only the way he slows down just slightly in his washing.

smiling, you press a kiss to his back "i love you, too."

he stands straighter, almost electrocuted by your words. he huffs, shifting on his feet.

"hmph...i win, then."

curious, you look up at him again "what are you talking about ?"

he finally looks back at you, a feral grin forms on his face "that face stealing bastard can like ya all he wants, but i still love you more!" he snickers evilly.

your boyfriend was, truly, the biggest idiot.

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[piastriprincess]

diamond  bright  ,  kiss  me  right ⸻  lando  norris  x  reader  .

featuring  lando  norris  ,  new(ish) relationship , love  confession  ,  reader  is  dramatic  as  hell  but  we  love  her word  count  1.8k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  !  i  have  basically  thought  about  nothing  but  law  school  for  the  past  two  days  but  i  was  missing  being  creative  and  wanted  to  give  you  all  something  fun  .  as  a  number  one  lando  defender  i  LOVED  writing  this  .  i  firmly  believe  he’s  a  little  bit  of  a  simp  when  he  really  likes  someone  …  very  precious  TO  ME  !  as  always  come  tell  me  what  you  think  or  send  me  a  request  !  okay  now  back  to  my  finals  studying  cave  .  love  you  all  <3  title  is  from  claws  by  charli  xcx  !

It was never supposed to be serious. 

You knew Lando Norris. The party-boy reputation, the DJ sets, a different girl at every circuit. When he sidled up to you at a bar in Monaco with that charming grin on his face, those blue-green eyes sparkling like the Mediterranean behind him, you didn’t expect much. An evening of harmless flirting, maybe. He’d buy you drinks. You might go home with him, if he wasn’t unbearably cocky. (You had a feeling he might be.) He was a player — you’d written him off in your mind before he even opened his mouth.

Turns out, you didn’t know Lando Norris at all. 

You didn’t know he would talk to you that entire night, looking ridiculously pleased every time he made you laugh, like he’d won a prize he hadn’t dared to hope for and couldn’t believe his luck. You didn’t know he would walk you home, and instead of asking to be invited up, asking if he could take you to dinner, hands stuck in his pockets so you couldn’t see the way they trembled. You didn’t know that one date would turn into nearly six months of good-morning texts, of coming home to bouquets of flowers on your doorstep just-because, of slow kisses that burned you up from the inside. 

It was like trying on a dress that looked ugly on the hanger and finding it fit you so well you never wanted to take it off again. To make a long story short, dating Lando was kind of your favorite thing. You liked everything about him. And lately, when you lay tangled in his sheets at night, his arms wrapped around your waist and his mouth pressed softly to your shoulder, breathing in his clean, boyish scent, you thought maybe your feelings were more than simply liking him. 

You couldn’t tell him, though, not yet. You cringed at the thought of the awkward silence that would stretch between you if he didn’t say it back. You trusted Lando — he was sweet to you in a way that made your chest ache sometimes, in a way that you couldn’t imagine being fake. But what if the thrill for him was all in the chase, the reckless desire to get something he thought he couldn’t have? What if now that he had you, now that he really knew you, the shine had worn off?

So you kept it to yourself. Let him slow dance with you in his kitchen to a song you’d never heard, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at you. Let him text you stupid jokes and ridiculous strings of emojis in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. Let him scrape his teeth over your collarbone and whisper your name like a prayer into the darkness. Loved him quietly, secretly, in the private corner of your heart he hadn’t quite found yet. 

You told yourself it was fine. Things were good between you. Great, even. You weren’t going to mess it up by saying it first. You would wait until he did. 

If he ever did. 

—

The most embarrassing moment of your life starts with a phone call. 

You’re weaving through the aisles of the grocery store, looking for the pasta. Lando’s had a long day of sponsor meetings and media, but insisted that he wanted to see you anyway for your regular date night. You agreed, on the condition you could make him dinner; you like the idea of taking care of him for once, instead of the other way around.  

Your phone starts buzzing, and you pull it out of your pocket, greeted with Lando’s face — some ridiculous photo he’d taken of the two of you early on, your cheeks pressed together like two halves of a heart. You answer without hesitating, shifting the basket of groceries onto your hip. “Hey, you.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” His voice is light, but you can hear the weariness underneath he’s trying to cover up. “Just checking what time you were thinking of coming over. Zak added a last-minute meeting to the calendar, but I should be done by 7.”

You prop the phone between your shoulder and your ear, grabbing a carton of eggs. “That’s fine. I’m just picking up the stuff now, I’ll stop at home and then come to yours.” You lo- You like the domesticity of the conversation. You wonder if someday, you’ll make grocery lists together, wander through the aisles side-by-side.

“My little chef,” he says, warmth in his voice. “Give me a sneak preview of the menu. What are you making me?” 

“Oh, I thought I’d whip up some sushi,” you tease, grin on your face. You can imagine him on the other end of the phone, crinkling his nose in disgust, and the thought lodges in your chest with a far-too-familiar fond ache. 

“Right, I actually have plans. Can’t have you over anymore,” he deadpans, like clockwork. 

You let out a bark of laughter, throwing a box of pasta into your basket. “I’m kidding. Do you think I don’t remember your freakish aversion to fish?”

“Wow. My own girlfriend, bullying me,” Lando sniffs. “Might just die now. Wasting away, starving and alone, with no one to comfort me.” 

“I’m making carbonara, you big baby,” you snort, pressing the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you inspect two different wedges of Parmesan. “And maybe cookies, for dessert.” You place the cheese in the basket, heading for the checkout lane. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Oh, you’re a goner. It does something stupid to your heart. 

“Guess the universe knew you needed me,” you reply, unpacking your basket onto the conveyor belt. You’re moving a little slowly; you only have one hand to unpack while the other holds the phone.

He laughs. “Score one for the universe.” His voice drops a little lower, a little softer. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too,” you reply, fumbling for your wallet as the cashier eyes you with increasing impatience, tapping at the card reader. A line has grown behind you, you realize. “Shit. Lan, I gotta go. I love you, bye.” Click.

You slide your sunglasses over your eyes as you step out of the air-conditioned grocery store. The weather as you walk home is warm. The late-afternoon sun hangs low and golden in the sky, and— 

You nearly drop the bag you’re carrying, catching it just before the eggs shatter over the Monaco sidewalk.

You told Lando you loved him. And you didn’t even realize it. 

—

By the time you get home, you’re seriously considering faking your own death.

You stand slumped against the wall of the elevator, cheeks burning with humiliation. You’ve spent the entire walk thinking up what feels like a thousand different ways to play it off — jokes, sarcasm, pretending you were talking to the cashier instead of him. They’re all stupid, all equally unlikely to work on Lando. Maybe the best option is to cancel tonight in favor of lying facedown on your carpet and never moving again. 

The elevator doors ding and slide open. You step off, turn the corner down your apartment hallway, and there’s Lando’s standing on your doorstep. 

For a minute, you think it’s a hallucination, because he can’t actually be in your hallway. He lives on the other side of Monaco, practically, and there’s always traffic. You stare at him, taking in the ruddy cheeks, the way the sweat beads at his temples, how he’s still trying to catch his breath.

He ran here, you realize, heart thudding wildly in your chest. He ran. 

The silence is terrifying, stretching between the two of you like a chasm. Then:

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“You’re supposed to be in a meeting,” you blurt, eyes wide. 

“Fuck the meeting,” he rasps, gaze trained on you. “Did you mean it?”

You have an out, now. You could lie, say it was unthinking, a force of habit from calling your mother, your friends. You could stay where you are, with those three little words rattling around your head every second of every day, and pretend it doesn’t kill you to hold them back now that you know what it feels like on your tongue. 

Or you could tell the truth, and take the chance that you’ll lose something, because there’s a possibility you could get everything. 

You look at the wild-eyed boy in front of you, who ran across Monaco just to see your face, and you already have your answer. 

“Yeah,” you say, voice small and heart in your throat. “Yeah, I meant it.”

He closes the distance between you in two steps, cups your cheeks in his hands, and smashes his lips to yours. It’s desperate, wild — your teeth knock together, and when you gasp against his mouth, he slides his tongue against yours in a way that makes your knees buckle. You pull him closer, closer, hands fisting into his shirt like he might disappear if you let go. 

“I love you too,” he gasps when you finally break apart, like it’s paining him to hold the words back. “Fuck. Been wanting to tell you for weeks, but I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You laugh wetly, forehead pressed against his. “I love you,” you say, and his whole face cracks into a smile so bright it’s like you’re looking at the sun. 

“Say it again,” he breathes. The look on his face is so obvious, all soft and awestruck. You wonder, distantly how you ever thought he didn’t feel the same.

“I love you,” you repeat, every syllable deliberate, and his arms wrap around you so fiercely it knocks the air out of your lungs. You yelp as he lifts you off your feet, laughing against his neck, your legs kicking uselessly for a second before you just give up and cling to him instead. He carries you to your door like that, arms steady and warm around you, and for one dizzying moment you think you could stay like this — weightless and safe and stupidly, overwhelmingly in love — forever. 

Maybe it was never supposed to be serious. But when he hugs you from behind while you stir the pasta, whispering I love you into your ear for the hundredth time that night like a promise he intends to keep, you seriously don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

[twotwofroote]

When I was a kid, I wanted to break a bone. It happened often enough to other kids and I saw how people treated them. They'd excitedly sign your cast, offer to carry your books, bring you your lunch, etc. I wanted so badly to be looked after like that; to be thought about like that.

I tried to break my bones often. I would hear how someone else did it and try to replicate it. It never worked. Breaking a bone is surprisingly difficult but oh so easy at the same time.

I broke my wrist two years ago. I had stopped trying or actively wanting that over a decade prior. It was simply an accident - a fall when rollerblading. But it was nothing like I'd imagined as a kid.

TLDR: Being sick or injured doesn't give you what you want. It's a fantasy. The reality is painful and scary. I have a support system but it's just that, support. They can't be there 24/7. At the end of the day, I can be alone with my good health or alone with bad health. I'd much rather have the former.

(more context after the break)

For starters, I live in Japan. I had been for 3 years at that point but I'd never had significant medical problems. I had to learn so much while dealing with so much.

When it happened, it felt like a cartoon crunch at first. Like that scene in Teen Titans when Robin breaks his arm. But immediately after was a blinding pain I've never experienced before. I was crying and screaming for my friend but it took him a minute to come back and see what had happened. He was sweet. Trying to comfort me and make jokes. I'm glad I wasn't alone.

But when the Japanese staff came, I had to answer questions in Japanese. I can speak Japanese well enough but that pain. My god that pain. I could hardly breathe, let alone think in another language.

My friend called a Japanese friend to come get us. I stupidly thought we'd go right to the hospital and get me patched up. But it was a Thursday. Silly me breaking my wrist on a Thursday! I quickly learned that hospitals are "closed" on Thursdays. The staff kept saying "it's a bad day for this to happen. You can't go to the hospital on Thursdays. You should be more careful."

I couldn't believe it! What do you mean they're CLOSED? It's a hospital! I found out later that of course they will accept people but only if they go by ambulance. I knew that an American ambulance cost so I thought I had lucked out not going that route in hindsight. Then, I found out an ambulance here is only like $80. Live and learn.

Instead, my Japanese friend drove me to a clinic for x-rays. And boy howdy was it bad. That gave me a temporary cast/splint situation, set up an appointment at the hospital for the next day, and sent me on my way.

At the hospital appointment, I had more imaging to see just how bad it was. The doctor said I needed surgery... but that the schedule was booked up for a week. So, I went home and I waited.

It was so lonely. Nothing like I'd imagined as a kid. As a kid, I thought people could help me 24/7 and honestly I think it might have been like that. Friends and teachers to help you at school and parents to help you at home. But as an adult? My friends have jobs. They couldn't help me for 8+ hours a day. I couldn't go to work so I couldn't get help from coworkers. My family was thousands of miles away. I was so desperately alone.

I sat on my couch for a week. Scratching at my itchy splint, struggling to shower, struggling to eat. I thought surely that was going to be the worst of it. But then the surgery day came.

For better or worse, I was naively unaware of what was in store for me. I knew I was going to have to be awake which worried me at first. But then I figured, if they keep you awake, it must not be that bad, right? So I downloaded music and books on my phone. I pictured it like a tattoo - laying on a bed, one arm stretched out. I listen to some stuff, an hour or so later and boom I'm an fixed up! Like I said, naive.

The nurses were surprised when I said I wasn't nervous or scared. I thought it was silly they thought I would be. This sucked but it was still kind of interesting. Seeing an OR and being in a Japanese hospital! It was going to be such a good story to tell!

But then it was time for surgery. They strapped me down to a table - arms, legs, torso. Covered me in blankets which I thought was odd, it was August after all. I was starting to get nervous. This isn't what I expected after all. But it'd probably still be fine!

It was not fine. It was like torture. That's an hour and a half of my life that I'll never forget. It started well enough. My arm was numb so I couldn't feel anything and there were x ray cameras that I could see showing what they were doing. That was fine, I could just close my eyes after all but the sounds? I couldn't avoid the sounds. Then, idk how long in, I started to feel pain. The numbing was wearing off and I could FEEL them digging around in there. But I'd forgotten how to speak. The doctors didn't know English and I couldn't remember any Japanese. The pain was too much, I was so cold, and I couldn't move. I started to panic. I was scratching at the bed with my good hand and twisting. I tried to speak but I didn't know how to explain what I was feeling. Everyone was panicking trying to understand what this wounded animal wanted to convey. Eventually I got out the word for "hurt" and the doctor started asking me questions. It was easy to say yes or no from there. They gave me more medicine and the pain went away but the fear didn't.

The surgery took longer than estimated but eventually it was done. They took me off the table, sweating but freezing, and put me in a wheelchair. My whole arm was red and purple. I'd never seen anything like it. It didn't belong to me. The nurse went to adjust my sling but the arm escaped, hitting the table with surprising force. They apologized but I couldn't understand why. That wasn't mine after all.

I thought the worst was over. Now I could just go to sleep and when I woke the pain would be much more manageable. But I couldn't sleep. My arm was on fire. It felt like I was clutching the sun to myself. It radiated heat. The night nurse gave me an ice pack and some medicine but it didn't help. What is an ice pack to the sun?

Eventually morning came and I was discharged. The worst was behind me now but there was so so much more ahead of me that I hadn't considered. I had to go to the doctor once a month for x-rays. I had to go to rehab for 3 months, 2/3x a week. All of the doctors were friendly and I got better little by little. But I was so depressed. I just wanted my life back, my time back.

I had friends, doctors, and coworkers to help me but at the end of the day, I was at home alone. That wasn't new, of course, but the pain was, the scar was, the lack of control in my body was. I realized that the desire I had as a kid was so misplaced.

Being sick or injured doesn't give you what you want. It's a fantasy. The reality is painful and scary. I have a support system but it's just that, support. They can't be there 24/7. At the end of the day, I can be alone with my good health or alone with bad health. I'd much rather have the former.

Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?

Everybody, apparently: No?

[bullet-prooflove]

You Should See Me In A Crown: John Shen x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @fadeinsol @nommingonfood

Companion piece to:

The Choice - In the wake of his brother's suicide John goes against his parents' wishes and makes a choice about his residency.

Prequel to:

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

Tiger, Tiger - John reveals the truth between his engagement and his history.

Jack - John's mother opens up old wounds by giving John a copy of your DCFS file.

Bare (NSFW) - John and you commit to each other in a special way.

The Shirt - Jack realises that you're wearing a boyfriend shirt.

Tradition - Mrs Shen makes a decision regarding the wedding.

Daywalker - You and John discuss something that could cause a big change in your relationship.

John didn’t know his brother Michael was an artist, not until he finds the portraits he painted in the attic of the house he’s cleaning out. Their stunning, bold, contemporary pieces that reflect a side of Michael he never knew existed until this moment. He studies the dates on the back, organising them into order and discovers the painting stopped just shy of his 18th birthday.

He understands the significance. His parents had forced Michael to attend business school, he’d spent his evenings and weekends shadowing their father in his own company. There had been no time, no energy for his passions.

He sets them aside the pocket sketch book he found downstairs in the office and takes them with him to Pittsburgh when he moves a week later for his residency. He gives them pride of place in his living room above the battered sofa in his townhouse apartment he rents only a couple of blocks away from the hospital.

It’s later that night he finds himself flicking through the sketchbook. After business school Michael’s taste had became monochrome it seems, all clean lines and geometric shapes. John flicks to the last image he ever drew, dated the week before his death.

It’s five triangles, each with their own unique personalisation. Michael’s written what they represent in a margin he’s created.

Mind, body, spirit, soul and heart.

The characters for John’s Chinese name are written in the bottom left corner and he realises that in his final days, his brother’s thoughts were of him.

The next day he takes it to the tattoo shop on the corner and books out their afternoon slot. He finds himself straddling the tattooist’s chair, his shirt off, waiting for them to print out the stencil of the design.

“First one?” A voice asks and he raises his eyes to meet those of the girl sitting across from him. She’s seated in the same position as he is, her chin resting on her forearms as the artist inks a design between her shoulder blades. She wearing a black sports bra that fits her just right over black running leggings, her tied up into a messy bun.

It takes John a minute to speak because she’s just so fucking pretty.

“Yea.” He says, his voice rough as he watches the artist dip the needle into the gold ink cup. “What about you?”

“My third.” She says, her gaze locked on his with an intensity he admires. “I won my first belt last night so I’m commemorating the occasion.”

“Belt?” He questions, drinking in her physique. Small, athletic. He would have pegged her as a runner or a swimmer, not the kind of girl ready to throw down.

“I’m an amateur boxer.” She informs him with a smile he’s sure lights up the whole city of Pittsburgh.

“So a certified badass then.” He complements, making her laugh before he gestures to her tattoo that’s now being wiped down by the artist. “You got any advice for a first timer?”

“How long have they recommended?” She asks as the cellophane is placed over the fresh ink, the medical tape fixing it into place.

“Three hours.” John tells her as she thanks the artist before raising to her feet.

“You need snacks.” She informs him, reaching for the light, powder blue shirt she’d left hanging up alongside her purse and folding it over her arm. “Getting a tattoo can create a stress response which expands energy and can cause your blood sugar to drop. It can make you faint. Did you bring any?”

He shake his head, feeling like an idiot.

“Don’t worry, I got you covered.” She says kindly as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a pack of Peanut M&M and a bottle of coke. She places them on the stool beside him. “Trust me these will stop you feeling lightheaded.”

“Thanks.” He says before she turns around to show him the tattoo she’s just had etched into her skin.

It’s a stunning piece of artwork. A simple gold crown with sharp points and a delicate flourish, it looks both regal and dangerous. Perfect for the woman standing in front of him.

“How does it look?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder.

“Like you’re a fucking queen.” He tells her and she gives him that smile again before she begins to tug on her shirt.

“Just what I wanted to hear.” She says, heading towards the counter to pay her bill. “Good luck with that tattoo…”

“John.” He supplies, the edges of his mouth tipping up as she tucks an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, while swiping her card.

“Cici.” She says, collecting her receipt. “Maybe I’ll see you around soon sometime.”

“Yea.” He says, the bell above the door jingling as she lets herself out. “I’m sure you will.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[cbeargyu]

hi! can i request a story with nct Mark like the movie Flipped, I just love the "she fell first, he fell harder" trope. Y/n is so persistent about showing Mark how much she likes him. Since everyone knows her crush on Mark, the others tease him, which annoys him at some point & told y/n off. Hurt, Y/n kind of distanced herself for a while. During those times she got closer to another member (maybe jeno or haechan), which then makes Mark even more annoyed, not realizing he's actually jealous. Angst slow burn w/ a happy ending. I'm sorry if it's too detailed 😅 -☕️ anon

the years that I loved you

summary: you've been secretly in love with mark for years, but he's always kept his distance, even though you've grown closer over time. after a failed attempt to move on with jeno, you realize you can’t forget mark. slowly, mark starts to notice his own feelings for you.

pairing: mark x fem!reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn romance, angst, one-sided love, fluff, college au, drama, confessions of love, she fell first but he fell harder trope.

warnings: mentions of unrequited love, emotional tension and angst, heartbreak, love triangle, public embarrassment/confessions, self-discovery and emotional growth.

wc: 12,9k

notes: anon, did you read my drafts or what? because i had this exact idea written down, even with jeno as the romantic interest omg hahaha but i never finished it because i got lazy lol, i'm not really into watching movies, so when i searched for the one you mentioned, i thought i’d have to research it to be able to write about it, but then i remembered i watched it about two years ago haha, looking for inspiration exactly, what a nice coincidence anon, i hope you like what i write <3

you were thirteen when you realized mark lee wasn’t just your brother’s best friend.

he was the boy with soft eyes who always greeted your mom with a polite smile, the one who helped your dad carry groceries without being asked, the one who laughed with jaemin until their stomachs hurt and then turned to you—quiet, awkward you—and asked if you wanted to join them at the convenience store.

he noticed you. always.

and god, that was dangerous.

you kept your secret like it was sacred. folded it between pages of your diary, whispered it into the pillow late at night when your chest hurt with the weight of wanting someone who would never be yours. he was two years older. already shining, already so good.

you thought maybe—just maybe—he was too good to break your heart.

you waited until his last day of middle school. you had written the letter three times, burned one, hid another. the final version trembled in your hands as you gave it to him behind the school gate.

“please don’t read it here,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

“i won’t,” he promised, gentle as ever. “don’t worry, okay?”

and you believed him. you always believed him.

but the next afternoon, he asked to meet you behind the gym.

it was quiet. too quiet.

you remember the way he scratched the back of his neck, the way he couldn’t quite look at you when he said, “you’re really important to me. like a little sister, you know?”

you smiled, because you didn’t know what else to do. you smiled as your eyes blurred.

and then you cried—ugly, shaking, childlike sobs you couldn’t hold back.

he tried to hug you, but it made it worse.

he said, “i’m sorry.”

he said, “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

he said everything right.

but it didn’t matter.

because you were thirteen, and he was mark lee, and you had just learned that love doesn’t always mean something back.

high school didn’t make it easier. if anything, it made everything worse.

you tried. god, you really tried to move on—swallowed the ache, buried it deep under textbooks, sketchbooks, extracurriculars. you learned to walk past him in the hallways without letting your gaze linger too long, learned to smile politely when he said “hi” like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t held your broken heart in his hands behind the gym that day and handed it back to you gently, still cracked.

but the problem was: mark never changed.

he was still that boy—soft-spoken, warm, radiant. the kind of person who made you want to be better just by existing near him. and worse, he was always there.

your house, once a quiet place of safety, had become a second home for jaemin’s band of loud, chaotic friends. most days, the living room was full of snacks, game controllers, and laughter. renjun’s sarcasm echoing through the hall, haechan draped across the couch like he owned the place, chenle’s laugh piercing through every door, jisung awkwardly trailing behind them with his phone glued to his hand. and of course, mark. always mark.

sometimes he’d be in the backyard with your brother, their laughter drifting through the window while you did homework at the kitchen table, pencil trembling slightly every time he called your name to offer you a slice of pizza or a bottle of soda. sometimes he’d walk past you in the hallway and lightly ruffle your hair like he used to when you were twelve, before he knew how deeply you felt for him. before you knew what it meant to love someone who couldn’t love you back.

he still smiled at you like you were made of sunlight. still hugged you during holidays, still handed you wrapped presents on your birthday with that same soft voice: “happy birthday. i hope you like it.”

you hated how much you always did.

you hated how his scent lingered on the gifts long after you’d hidden them at the back of your closet. you hated how you still looked forward to seeing him, how your chest still fluttered when he said your name, how you felt thirteen and stupid every single time he was near.

but the worst was that he didn’t seem affected at all.

to him, nothing had changed. to you, everything had.

one rainy afternoon, you came home early to find the living room empty for once—blissfully silent. you kicked off your shoes, soaked to the ankle, hair damp and cheeks flushed from running back from school before the storm broke harder. you turned the corner to grab a towel from the laundry room when you saw him.

mark was there.

he stood by the window, alone, watching the rain. his hands were in the pockets of his black hoodie, hair slightly messy, lips parted in thought. he looked older. softer. like the kind of boy who belonged in a novel, not real life.

he turned when he heard your footsteps and smiled without hesitation. “hey,” he said, like it didn’t hurt, like your heart didn’t still beat for him in every goddamn way.

“hi,” you managed, holding the towel tighter against your chest.

“you’re drenched,” he said, walking toward you. “you’ll catch a cold.”

he was too close. you could smell the citrus of his shampoo, the faint vanilla of his cologne. when he reached out to brush a wet strand of hair from your cheek, you flinched—not visibly, just enough for him to stop, hand frozen mid-air.

“sorry,” he said, withdrawing. “force of habit.”

you shook your head, stepping back. “it’s fine.”

but it wasn’t. nothing ever was.

you escaped upstairs before your voice could betray you.

two weeks later, you found yourself sitting in the second row of the school auditorium, knees bouncing under the dim lights, your palms cold against the fabric of your skirt.

mark was playing romeo.

you’d heard about it from jaemin, of course—how their teacher insisted he was perfect for the role, how he’d been rehearsing every afternoon, how the girl playing juliet had been a little too eager during practice.

and now, here you were. watching him on stage under golden light, speaking lines you knew he barely even had to memorize—his voice calm, lyrical, achingly beautiful. his every movement was precise, full of emotion. he touched juliet’s face like it was made of glass, like she was something sacred.

you hated her.

she smiled when he held her hand. she leaned into him during the balcony scene. you saw her lips part just before the final act, the tension thick in the air as mark cupped her face. and then—slowly, tragically—he leaned in.

his lips brushed hers. soft. slow. real.

your throat closed.

your chest twisted so violently you thought you might get up and run. but your body stayed rooted in place, forced to watch as they collapsed together on the floor in a mock death, fingers intertwined, her head resting on his shoulder.

the applause was thunderous. everyone stood.

you did not.

you waited until after the show to find him. your feet carried you to the back hallway of the auditorium like they had minds of their own. your heart was a drum, wild and panicked.

he smiled when he saw you—still dressed in costume, hair tousled, sweat glistening on his brow.

“did you like it?” he asked, laughing softly. “i was so nervous.”

you looked at him. really looked.

“i still like you,” you said.

just like that.

no warning. no buildup. no sugarcoated version.

you were tired of pretending.

he froze. his smile dropped.

“i thought… i thought you were over it,” he said quietly.

“i wanted to be,” you whispered. “but i’m not. and watching you up there—watching her kiss you—i couldn’t pretend anymore.”

he looked down. exhaled slowly. ran a hand through his hair.

“you know i care about you,” he said gently, “but not like that. i’m sorry...”

same words.

same ache.

different year.

his hands lowered slowly, as if he suddenly didn’t know what to do with them. his breath grew deeper, slower. he was about to say something. you were going to let him speak. but before he could, you stepped forward, close enough that he had no choice but to truly see you, to hear you, to feel the heat of your words.

“i don’t accept it.”

mark blinked. “what?”

you were trembling on the inside, but you didn’t back down. “i won’t accept a no. not yet. i’ve been in love with you for as long as i can remember, mark. and yeah, maybe you’ll never see me the way i see you. maybe you’ll never feel the same. but i’m not giving up. because i can’t. even if you ignore me, even if you keep looking at me like i’m just jaemin’s little sister… my feelings for you aren’t going anywhere.”

the silence was a wall between you. thick. breathless. mark didn’t know where to look. his jaw clenched slightly. but you saw it—how hard he swallowed, the way his throat bobbed like your words had tied a knot in it. and then… that little flush, that faint blush coloring his cheeks.

he didn’t respond. he just dropped his eyes and muttered something you couldn’t quite catch before saying he had to get back to the guys.

you stayed behind, again. but this time, something was different.

you weren’t broken.

you were alive.

the days after that were… strange.

you didn’t hide anymore. you didn’t avoid looking at him, didn’t steer away when he came into your house, didn’t pretend it didn’t still ache. if you saw him, you greeted him with a soft smile. if he made a comment, you replied with one slightly sweeter. if you were near, you allowed yourself to lean in ever so slightly, as if pulled by something invisible.

mark said nothing.

but he noticed.

and everyone else did too.

renjun was the first to ask—just a casual afternoon in the backyard, you laying on a blanket with a book, the boys talking nonsense as usual. it happened right after mark came back from the kitchen and handed you a water bottle without you asking, like he already knew you’d need it.

“are you guys, like… a thing?” renjun asked, half-joking, half-serious.

mark laughed awkwardly. “what? no. of course not.”

but you looked up from your book, calm, almost proud.

“i like mark,” you said. not shy, not hesitant.

the silence was immediate.

haechan stopped chewing his gum. jisung stared at you like you’d grown horns. chenle let out a choked “wait—seriously?” and jaemin… jaemin looked at you like he’d just uncovered a secret that had always been in plain sight.

mark tensed. his hand around the empty bottle clenched slightly. he didn’t look at you. but you looked at him.

“i like him,” you repeated, voice steady. “i don’t know if that’ll ever change. for now, it hasn’t.”

the air shifted, thick with something unspoken. jaemin cleared his throat.

“wow… okay, didn’t see that coming.”

mark let out a nervous chuckle. “seriously, there’s nothing going on.”

you smiled softly. “not yet.”

and that was that.

they tried to go back to talking about something else, but the topic hung in the air like perfume—sweet, heavy, impossible to ignore.

after that day, the looks between you and mark carried weight. not just because of what you felt, but because now everyone knew. his behavior became more cautious, measured, like every move might be misread, like every glance might be taken the wrong way.

but he still looked at you.

he still smiled.

sometimes, he still sought you out without realizing it.

and you…

you kept loving him, even when it wasn’t a secret anymore.

valentine’s day hit the school like a storm.

the halls were dripping in pink and red, balloons bumping against lockers, the air thick with the scent of cheap chocolate and desperation. you weren’t immune to it—if anything, you were worse.

you had spent the night before in your kitchen, standing over a counter covered in baking disasters, painstakingly melting chocolate, shaping little hearts by hand, writing stupid tiny notes on colorful slips of paper. you stayed up until almost three in the morning, ignoring your mother’s concerned looks, all for one boy.

mark lee.

you didn’t half-ass it either. no. you went full force.

you woke up at five a.m. on valentine’s day, backpack bursting with gifts, heart pounding with something between excitement and fear. the moment you got to school, you made a beeline for his locker. you stuffed it full—letter after letter, pink and red envelopes practically exploding out of the sides. every letter started the same way, "dear mark, i really really like you," and got progressively more unhinged as you got sleepier. one of them ended with a doodle of you two riding off into the sunset on a giant gummy bear. you didn’t even regret it.

and then, the chocolates. you had them in a heart-shaped box you decorated yourself, glitter peeling off the sides. you snuck into his classroom early, your hands shaking, and dumped them right on top of his desk—pile after pile of messy, misshapen chocolate hearts, each one lovingly wrapped in plastic and tied with curly red ribbon.

it wasn’t subtle. it wasn’t graceful.

but it was you.

when mark walked into class later, you watched from behind the doorframe like some kind of deranged cupid. he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the mountain of candy and cards like it might explode. his friends started laughing—haechan howling loud enough to draw attention from other classrooms, renjun pretending to cry from how beautiful it was, jisung muttering “bro’s got a stalker” under his breath while chenle recorded everything on his phone.

mark didn’t get mad.

he didn’t yell.

he just... looked so painfully polite about the whole thing, his bright smile twitching at the corners, his ears turning an adorable shade of pink. he stood there, awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes scanning for an escape route.

you chose that exact moment to spring.

you practically bounced up to him, heart hammering, face on fire, and blurted out in front of everyone, “mark! i like you! a lot! like, a lot a lot! like, marry-me-under-a-rainbow kind of a lot!”

you didn’t know where that last part came from. you regretted it immediately.

mark laughed. this soft, helpless little sound that made your chest ache. he looked at you—really looked at you—and for a second, you could almost believe he was touched. or maybe just very, very overwhelmed.

"thank you," he said gently, voice a little strained. "you’re really sweet. but—uh—i think... we should just stay friends, yeah?"

you nodded furiously, tears pricking at the back of your eyes, but you smiled through it because you were determined not to make it worse.

"friends! sure! but, like, if you change your mind... i'm available. permanently."

haechan choked. chenle dropped his phone from laughing too hard. renjun whispered “oh my god, she’s serious,” like he was witnessing a car crash in slow motion.

mark gave you a look, half grateful, half pleading, like he was begging the universe to save him from this situation without hurting you. he patted your head—your actual head, like you were a golden retriever—and hurried to clean up the mess you’d left.

the rest of the day, every time you crossed paths, you beamed at him and chirped "i like you!" like it was a greeting. he’d flinch slightly every time, force that damn brilliant smile, and respond with a tiny nod or a mumbled "thank you..." before speed-walking away like his life depended on it.

it became a running joke. teachers started asking him about his “secret admirer.” students left fake valentines in his locker just to mess with him. he took it all in stride, patient and painfully kind, but you knew deep down it was wearing him out.

still, you couldn’t help it. you were in too deep.

when the final bell rang, and you caught him stuffing all your letters into his bag like he was trying to hide contraband, you grinned so wide your cheeks hurt.

maybe, you thought, love didn’t have to be perfect to be real.

even if it was one-sided. even if it was a little ridiculous.

your heart still beat for him. and for now, that was enough.

you followed him to university without a second thought.

not because you were obsessed. not because you were desperate.

maybe it sounded crazier when you said it out loud, like some reckless teenage daydream you should have outgrown by now, but in your heart, it had always been simple. wherever mark went, you wanted to go too. so when he decided to major in literature at a university two cities away, you didn’t hesitate—you applied to the same program, you studied harder than you ever had in your life, and when that acceptance letter came, you clutched it to your chest and cried, thinking it was fate smiling at you.

you convinced yourself that it was a new beginning, that maybe, somehow, away from the crowded hallways of high school and the well-worn patterns of rejection and affection, things could be different. you could be different. you could be the kind of girl he might actually look at twice.

but reality wasn’t a fairytale, and no amount of shared classes or accidental brushings of hands across desks could change the fact that mark had drawn a line in the sand years ago—and he wasn’t about to cross it.

still, you stayed close, orbiting him like a stubborn, quiet moon, your love for him woven into every choice you made, every dream you dared to have.

he was still kind. still soft-spoken and careful with your heart. he’d pull out chairs for you in lecture halls, lend you his notes when you were sick, laugh at your dry jokes when no one else did. he still bought you birthday gifts—carefully wrapped, always with a little handwritten note in his neat handwriting. still hugged you every christmas. still remembered your favorite snacks and left them on your desk when you were cramming.

but he never crossed the line.

mark lee was a boy of boundaries. polite, good, respectful. especially with you.

especially because of jaemin.

the others —haechan, chenle, renjun, even jisung—had started making comments. light teasing when mark waited for you outside your dorm. when your fingers brushed as you passed him a pen. when he remembered things you said in passing and brought them up weeks later.

“just date already.”

“you’d make such a cute couple.”

“jaemin would murder you, but worth it.”

but jaemin never laughed. he’d stare straight ahead, jaw clenched, eyes hard.

“it’s not happening,” he’d say flatly. “drop it.”

and mark—mark would just smile and shake his head.

“we’re just friends.”

always the same line. always gentle. always final.

and still, you stayed. because a piece of you still hoped. still wondered if maybe, maybe, something would shift.

until summer.

that was when everything changed.

it started small.

mark smiling at his phone when he thought no one was looking. mark turning down movie nights, saying he was “tired” or “busy.” mark humming under his breath as he walked across campus, like he couldn’t help it.

he looked… lighter.

brighter.

and he wasn’t looking at you.

you found out by accident.

a lazy sunday. mark had left his phone on the coffee table in the shared dorm lounge while he went to grab snacks. a message popped up, screen lighting briefly.

“can’t wait to see you again 💛” from: yerim 🍒

kim yerim.

a girl from another department. bright, confident, everything you weren’t.

you blinked at the message like it was written in another language. your throat tightened. your hands went cold. you couldn’t look away.

when mark came back into the room, smiling like he always did, you could barely breathe. he didn’t notice the way your gaze dropped. or maybe he did, but he didn’t say anything. just offered you a packet of chips like nothing had changed.

but everything had.

by the time the others found out, mark and yerim had been quietly seeing each other for nearly two months.

the teasing stopped.

no more jokes. no more comments. just a strange, heavy silence.

even haechan kept quiet. only once, after a long night out, he said it in a low voice—when mark had gone off to call her, when everyone else was half-asleep on the floor.

“you’d be better for him.”

you looked up. your eyes were wet. you hadn’t even noticed.

haechan’s gaze softened. “but he’s not ready to see that, huh?”

you didn’t answer.

because what was there to say?

you’d loved mark for so long it had become a part of your identity. it was in the way you walked, the way you chose your classes, the way your heart lit up every time you saw him laugh.

but he was never yours.

and now, there was someone else who made him laugh. someone he looked at like that. and the worst part?

he looked happy.

genuinely, radiantly happy. the kind of happy that couldn’t be faked.

so you smiled too. you congratulated him. you listened to him talk about yerim with soft eyes and careful words.

and when you were alone, you cried into your pillow, biting down hard to keep the sound in.

because this wasn’t betrayal. this wasn’t a lie. this was just love—one-sided, unchanging, and devastating.

you didn’t blame him.

you just didn’t know how to stop loving him.

you weren’t sure when yerim began to notice.

maybe it was the way you went quiet whenever mark entered the room. maybe it was how your eyes never quite met his anymore. or maybe it was something deeper—something only another woman could sense. a kind of residual ache, the ghost of something that used to be almost something.

she never confronted you. never threw it in your face.

but her gaze lingered.

a little longer than necessary. a little too perceptive. especially when mark spoke your name.

and mark—he started choosing his words more carefully. his laughter dimmed around you, like he didn’t know how to act anymore. like being near you was stepping into a room still filled with the scent of a fire long gone out.

you weren’t mad. you were exhausted.

your chest carried the weight of every second you’d spent wishing for something that never existed outside your imagination. you’d painted a fantasy in your mind and clung to it like a lifeline, and for what? he never promised you anything. never kissed you. never called you “mine.”

he was just… kind. and you were just stupid.

so when you met lee jeno, it was like inhaling after drowning.

he was part of the sports science department—tall, tan, always wearing that damned sleeveless hoodie like he knew the effect it had on people. he had this cocky little smile and a voice that made you pause. and god, he was smooth. but not in a sleazy way.

jeno was bright in a way mark never was. he didn’t hesitate. he didn’t overthink.

he noticed you from the first time you sat across from him in a shared elective. you were sketching half-distractedly, and he leaned over with that grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"you always draw like the world’s ending tomorrow?"

you blinked up at him, startled. "excuse me?"

he just laughed. “you’re good. i like intense girls.”

you rolled your eyes. but he didn’t stop talking to you after that. he’d walk you to class, show up with energy drinks during finals, and compliment the color of your nails like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

and one day, without drama or overthinking, he just asked:

“go out with me.”

no hidden meanings. no caution. just jeno, smiling, offering you something real.

you hesitated.

you thought of mark. of his careful hands, his lingering warmth, the smile he used to give you before it all got awkward. but that was the thing—it had gotten awkward. broken. distant. he belonged to someone else now. he never belonged to you.

so you said yes.

after weeks of holding onto a secret that was slowly tearing you apart, you finally decided to give jeno a chance. you couldn’t keep pretending like mark didn’t already have your heart in his hands, even if he didn’t want it. you couldn’t keep letting your feelings for him dictate everything, so when jeno, the charming and confident guy from your physical education class, asked you out one day, you hesitated.

you hesitated for a long time, thinking of how many times mark had walked right past you, never once acknowledging your heart, never once looking at you in a way that made you feel more than just his friend’s younger sister.

but this time, it was different. jeno was persistent, and there was a spark in his smile that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could move on. so, after a long conversation with yourself and an even longer discussion with your heart, you said yes. but you weren’t going to drag jeno into something he wasn’t prepared for, so before you agreed to anything, you told him the truth.

“i’ve been in love with someone else for so long,” you admitted, your voice soft, vulnerable. “and i don’t know if i can just let go of that... but i want to try. i want to try with you.”

jeno smiled at you, and his eyes softened, like he understood. “i know,” he said, his voice steady. “i’ve seen it. but i’ll do my best to make you forget about him. i’ll do everything i can so that you only look at me the way you looked at him.”

it wasn’t a promise of forever, but it was a promise to try. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could start anew. so you accepted, feeling a little lighter, but still carrying the weight of what had once been.

the first few days were like walking on air. jeno was easy to be around—funny, charming, the kind of guy who made you feel like you mattered. when you walked around campus together, everyone noticed. people were happy for you, the long-lost couple that everyone was rooting for. but mark? mark looked like he had swallowed something bitter.

mark had never been good at hiding his feelings, and even if he tried, yerim saw right through him. it had been a few weeks since you and jeno started dating, and mark’s behavior was becoming more noticeable by the day. his lingering stares, the way he would look at you and jeno when you walked into a room together—yerim had seen enough. she had been patient with him, but there was only so much a person could tolerate.

you caught him looking at you and jeno one too many times, his eyes narrowed and his lips set in a firm line. it made you uncomfortable, the way he would glance at you, then at jeno, like he was calculating something, weighing something in his mind. but you didn’t think much of it until the day he pulled you aside after a class, his face clouded with something unreadable.

“hey,” he started, his voice softer than usual, though there was still a bite to it. “i don’t think jeno is good for you.”

you blinked, startled. “what do you mean?” you asked, confused, but also feeling a knot tighten in your chest. why was he saying this now? after all this time?

mark rubbed the back of his neck, looking uneasy. “i mean... you’re my friend, and i care about you. i just don’t think he’s the right person for you. you deserve better than him.”

you could feel your heart racing. “what do you know about what’s good for me or not?” you replied, your tone sharp. “you’re not my... you’re not my anything, mark. i don’t need you to tell me what’s best for me.”

he frowned, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but he didn’t apologize. instead, he sighed. “i’m just looking out for you, okay? you’re... important to me.”

the words stung more than they should have. important to him. you let out a bitter laugh. “important to you? you’ve barely noticed me for years, mark. don’t try to pull that with me now.”

his face shifted, caught somewhere between frustration and something else that you couldn’t quite place. “i’m serious, okay? just... be careful with jeno.”

before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling more confused than ever.

but things didn’t stop there.

it wasn’t just that mark had said what he said—it was the way he started acting afterward. jeno was around, and whenever jeno was around, mark seemed to get this look in his eyes, like he was watching you two, trying to figure out something that wasn’t adding up. he started showing up more, always offering you little things, always asking if you needed anything. he would bring you your favorite coffee between classes, or linger a little longer than usual when he saw you and jeno walking together.

you noticed it. everyone noticed it. especially yerim.

it was one afternoon in the student lounge when yerim couldn’t hold it in any longer. “mark,” she said, voice tight, “you’re doing it again. you’ve been acting like this... like you’re in love with her.”

mark froze, caught in the act of watching you laugh with jeno. he opened his mouth to deny it, but yerim didn’t let him. “don’t even try to deny it,” she continued. “you’re constantly around her, always looking at her like you want something more. you’re jealous every time jeno is near her.”

mark looked at her, eyes wide with shock. “i’m not—i mean, no, that’s not it.”

“really?” yerim’s voice was sharp now. “because it looks like it. you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

the words hung in the air like a weight neither of them could lift. mark’s face went pale. he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. then, slowly, he shook his head, almost as if to convince himself.

“no,” he muttered. “i’m not.”

yerim stared at him for a long moment, her expression a mix of disbelief and something more profound. “mark... you can’t just keep pretending you don’t care about her. you’ve been doing it for years, and now you’re pushing jeno away like this. stop lying to yourself.”

he didn’t say anything. he just stood there, looking at you as you laughed with jeno, the smile on your face not quite reaching his eyes anymore.

it was the last straw when mark once again casually mentioned your name while they were eating lunch together, and yerim couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

“mark,” yerim began, her voice quiet but firm. “i can’t keep doing this.”

mark looked up from his phone, confused. “what do you mean?” he asked, trying to mask the tension in his voice.

“this,” she motioned between the two of them, the table between them feeling like a chasm. “your obsession with her. it’s becoming impossible to ignore, and frankly, i’m tired of it.”

he blinked, shocked by her bluntness. “what are you talking about? i’m not obsessed with anyone.”

“oh, really?” yerim’s eyes narrowed, her tone ice-cold now. “because every time i bring something up, you somehow find a way to tie it back to her. last week, we were talking about your plans for the summer, and you—” she paused, shaking her head as if in disbelief, “you brought her up. again. you’re not fooling me, mark. it’s always about her. i’m starting to think you’re not really here with me.”

mark opened his mouth to argue, but yerim held up her hand, stopping him mid-sentence. “no. don’t try to lie to me. you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

the words hit him like a punch to the gut. he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. a flash of memories flashed in his mind—those moments when your name slipped out of his mouth without even thinking, how he’d catch himself whenever he accidentally mentioned you during their time together.

he remembered the time they were having a casual dinner at a restaurant and he had jokingly said, “y/n would love this dish.” yerim had paused, her fork mid-air, her eyes narrowing. but mark quickly covered it up, offering a distracted smile, as if it didn’t mean anything. another time, they were walking through the campus, and he had said, “this place reminds me of something y/n and i used to do.” yerim had looked at him, confusion and hurt crossing her face, but mark had just shrugged it off. it wasn’t anything, he assured her. just memories of a friendship.

but yerim wasn’t stupid. and she was done pretending she didn’t see it.

“you’ve been so distracted, mark. and i’m over it,” yerim’s voice grew stronger now, the anger finally coming through. “you don’t have the right to string me along while you’re still hung up on someone else.”

mark’s heart raced in his chest, the weight of her words sinking in. he couldn’t deny it anymore. yerim wasn’t wrong, and he hated himself for it. “i didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just... y/n... i never meant to hurt you.”

but yerim wasn’t having it. she was proud, and she recognized her worth. her eyes flashed with frustration as she stood up from the table, throwing her napkin down with a sharp motion. “it doesn’t matter what you meant, mark. what matters is that you’ve been leading me on, and i’m done. i’m not going to sit here and pretend everything’s fine when you clearly can’t even give me your full attention.”

mark stood up too, his voice soft, almost pleading. “yerim, please don’t—”

“no, mark. i’ve had enough. i need someone who’s here for me, not for someone else.” she turned to leave, but stopped at the door, her back still to him. “think about it, mark. because if you’re not careful, you’re going to lose both of us.”

the door slammed shut behind her, and mark stood there in silence, feeling the weight of her words settle in. but before he could process what had just happened, his phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, and there it was again—your name, flashing on the screen.

a flood of memories hit him all at once—the late-night talks with you, the way he had always put you on a pedestal, and how, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. he couldn’t stop caring about you. yerim had been right. it had been you, always you.

but that wasn’t all. as he sat there, the memories of his time with yerim also came flooding back. the times she’d gotten upset with him for talking about you too much. he had brushed it off, saying it was nothing, just casual references. but deep down, he knew he was never really there for her. not the way she deserved.

a sharp pain twisted in his chest, and he realized something—yerim had always been more than just a girlfriend to him. she was a distraction, a way to cover up the hole in his heart that he refused to acknowledge. but now, everything felt different.

it was supposed to be a day of fun, something to make you forget. jeno had planned a trip to the amusement park, hoping that the laughter, the rides, and the sweet cotton candy would distract you from everything that had been weighing heavily on your heart. he was always there for you, attentive and sweet, trying his best to make you feel special. his hand never left yours, and he had a way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even though you weren't sure it ever would be.

but as the day went on, the fun rides, the silly carnival games, and even jeno’s bright smile couldn’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to mark. you tried so hard to push them away, to focus on the moment, on the person beside you who was giving you his all. jeno was perfect. he was patient, kind, charming in ways that made you laugh without even trying. but no matter how much he tried to pull you out of the hole you’d fallen into, mark was still there, lingering in your heart like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

it wasn’t until you were sitting on a bench near the Ferris wheel, looking out at the glowing lights of the park, that the dam finally broke. tears blurred your vision, and for the first time in a long while, you let them fall. jeno’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb wiping away the first tear, and then another, as his soft voice reached your ears.

“hey,” he murmured, his eyes filled with concern and something deeper, like he already knew what was happening. “what’s going on?”

you shook your head, struggling to find the right words. “i... i’m so sorry, jeno. i thought i could... but i can’t. i can’t stop thinking about him.” your voice cracked, and the sobs you had been holding back spilled out. “it’s not fair to you. i feel like i’m using you, but i can’t... i can’t let go of mark.”

jeno stayed quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on your cheek, tender and warm. he didn’t look hurt, not the way you expected him to. instead, his eyes were filled with understanding, the kind of understanding that made your chest ache even more.

“you don’t have to apologize,” he said softly, his voice steady and calm. “you can’t force yourself to move on, y/n. you can’t just push those feelings aside because you want them to go away. i know that. i won’t ask you to stop thinking about him, or to stop loving him. but you need to realize that you’re only hurting yourself by holding onto something that might never be.” he paused, giving you a moment to absorb his words, his thumb tracing your cheek slowly. “if you’re not ready for this, if you’re not ready for me, then it’s okay. we can stop here.”

his words cut deeper than you expected. you looked at him, and in his eyes, you saw nothing but kindness, the kind of person who would never push you, who would never force you to be someone you weren’t. but that only made it harder to bear. jeno was giving you his everything, and yet, your heart was somewhere else.

“jeno...” you whispered, your voice shaking, “i’m so sorry. i wish i could just... let go. but i’m not ready for this. for us. i thought maybe... maybe i could love you. but i can’t stop thinking about him. and it’s not fair to you. you deserve someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

jeno smiled at you, but it wasn’t the smile of someone who was happy. it was a smile tinged with sadness, a resignation that seemed to come from a place of understanding rather than disappointment. he took your hand in his and held it firmly, as if to reassure you that it was okay.

“i knew,” he said quietly, his voice soft but sure. “i knew this wasn’t going to be easy. and i’m not mad at you, y/n. i’m just... i’m just glad you’re being honest with me.” he gave your hand a squeeze. “you don’t have to force anything. if you want to keep holding onto mark, then do it. if that’s what you need to do to move on, then i won’t stop you. i want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

you blinked back more tears, unable to find the right words. jeno’s face was full of hurt, but also full of understanding, and you hated yourself for not being able to give him what he deserved. you loved jeno, you really did, but your heart was still anchored to mark, and nothing was going to change that just because you wanted it to.

“i don’t deserve you,” you said through a broken sob, the guilt overwhelming. “i’m sorry, jeno. i’m so sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” he said again, his voice steady and soothing, despite the sadness that lingered there. “just think about it, okay? take your time. but don’t stay in this place forever. don’t let yourself be stuck on someone who can’t give you the love you deserve.”

you nodded, unable to speak, and jeno, ever patient and kind, pulled you into a gentle embrace. his warmth was comforting, but it also reminded you of the hole in your heart that mark had left behind.

you could feel the weight of his words, the truth in them sinking deeper than anything you had ever felt. he wasn’t going to hold you to something that wasn’t real, and you hated the fact that it took you this long to realize it. jeno wasn’t just someone you could use to fill the gap mark had left. he was someone who deserved to be loved completely, and you weren’t capable of giving him that.

as you pulled away, you could see the understanding in jeno’s eyes, and it was that very understanding that made the pain in your chest grow even stronger. jeno wasn’t going to hold onto something that wasn’t meant to be. and maybe, just maybe, that was the hardest thing for you to accept.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice small, broken. “but i think i need to try with mark. maybe... maybe he’s the one i’m meant to be with.”

jeno smiled again, but this time, it was bittersweet. “then go for it, y/n. do what you need to do. i’m not going anywhere.”

and just like that, you knew. you had your answer. but the question now was whether mark would ever feel the same way.

the days at university dragged on, each one more suffocating than the last. you had your friends around you, and yet, you felt like you were drowning in the same sea of unresolved feelings. it was a strange comfort to be surrounded by people, but their presence didn’t erase the emptiness you felt inside. mark’s presence lingered everywhere, like a ghost. even in the cafeteria, you couldn’t escape the feeling that something was missing. his silence, his avoidance, it was all becoming too much to bear.

one morning, as you sat at a table with your friends, a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. mark had arrived late, as usual, and took a seat at the opposite end of the table, his gaze distant, his face blank. the usual chatter buzzed around you, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air. the others seemed to sense it too, noticing how quiet everything had become since the both of you had entered the room.

haechan, always the one to try and lighten the mood, leaned back in his chair, his grin wide and teasing. “so guys, what’s going on here? someone want to spill the tea?” his tone was playful, but there was an edge to it that made it clear he wasn’t fully joking.

you felt your stomach twist, but before you could respond, mark shifted in his seat, his fork tapping against his plate. the room grew unnaturally quiet, the teasing atmosphere fading into something more uncomfortable. mark’s voice broke through the silence, his tone so flat it was almost impossible to read.

“yerim… she broke up with me,” mark said, the words coming out without any emotion, almost like he was just stating a fact. it wasn’t a confession or a cry for sympathy, just an acknowledgment of something that had happened.

the table fell completely silent. everyone, even haechan, froze, unsure of what to say. it was as if the air had thickened, and no one dared to move or speak for a moment. you kept your eyes fixed on your tray, unable to meet anyone’s gaze, though you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at mark from the corner of your eye.

he was eating his breakfast now, like it was just another normal morning, his face emotionless. but you could see the small, almost imperceptible signs of tension in his posture. his shoulders were a little more rigid, and his hand gripped his fork a little tighter than usual. but he said nothing more, and the others didn’t press him for details.

renjun, ever the curious one, broke the silence by shifting in his seat and looking directly at you. “what about jeno?” he asked, his voice soft but probing.

the question hit you harder than expected. it was like everyone had just been waiting for you to talk about it, to explain what had happened between you and jeno. you hesitated, biting your lip as you considered how to respond.

“i… i ended things with jeno,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

chenle raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. what? you were just starting to get into it. why would you stop now?”

you shrugged, feeling a lump form in your throat. “i wasn’t prepared for what he needed.”

another silence filled the room, heavier this time. you could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look up. the tension in the air was suffocating, and you could feel it building up around you like a thick fog. it wasn’t just the conversation that was uncomfortable—it was everything that had been left unsaid. the way mark kept his distance, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, the way you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were never going to be as simple as they once were.

you stole another glance at mark, your heart tightening at the sight of him. he was still eating, his movements slow and deliberate, but you could tell he was aware of the conversation. the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flicked toward you for a fraction of a second—it all spoke volumes. but he said nothing more. he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. he wasn’t going to chase you or beg for your attention. it was always like this with him, wasn’t it? he had this way of making you feel like you were the only one who cared, while he remained distant, unreachable.

as you sat there, feeling the weight of the silence press down on you, you realized that maybe you weren’t the only one who had been avoiding the truth. maybe mark was doing the same thing. maybe he, too, had been holding back, pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

and then, as if on cue, mark glanced up at you. his eyes met yours for just a moment, and for the briefest of seconds, you saw something in them—something raw, something vulnerable. but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the same mask of indifference he wore so often.

you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling the ache in your chest, the pain of wanting something that wasn’t yours to have. you didn’t know what this meant, what the silence between the two of you meant. but it hurt. it hurt in ways you couldn’t explain.

suddenly, mark stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, and without a word, he grabbed his tray and walked away, leaving the table in stunned silence once again. you didn’t know if it was his way of shutting everyone out or if he was simply tired of pretending that everything was fine.

haechan glanced at you, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. “well, that was... something,” he muttered.

but you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. all you could do was sit there, surrounded by your friends, but feeling more alone than ever before. you didn’t know what would happen next.

but you did know one thing: nothing was going to be the same again.

mark never liked to admit it, but the words yerim had said earlier echoed in his mind like a loud, unwanted reminder. "you're in love with her, aren't you?" he couldn't shake it. the way she confronted him, the certainty in her voice, it felt like she was peeling back layers of something he didn’t even know he was hiding. he tried to brush it off, told himself he wasn’t like that—he couldn’t be. you were his friend, his best friend’s sister, and he had always kept a distance for a reason.

but the more he thought about it, the more it hit him. the way his heart reacted when you gave him those letters, when you filled his locker with chocolates you’d made yourself, and when you said "i like you" so casually, so boldly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. mark could still feel the warmth in his chest when he read your letters. he could still picture the way you’d smile at him, your eyes shining with a hope that made him feel both uneasy and... strangely content. it made him feel things he couldn’t quite name.

he had always kept his distance, tried to maintain the line between friendship and something else, because he knew it was wrong. but what if it wasn’t? what if everything he’d told himself about not crossing that line was just an excuse to avoid the truth? there were moments, fleeting but intense, when he felt your gaze on him, when he felt you watching him more than anyone else, and it made him ache in ways he didn’t understand. it was subtle, but it was there—your attention, your small gestures that spoke louder than words.

and mark... mark had never been one to ignore someone he cared about. he would remember the smallest things about you—your favorite color, how you liked your coffee, the way you hated the cold but still insisted on walking with him outside when it was freezing, just because you liked the fresh air. he noticed these things, even when he told himself it was just concern, just the instincts of a friend. but now, in the silence of his own thoughts, it became clear: he was lying to himself.

it had never been just friendship. he was always there when you needed him, always paying attention to the little things that mattered to you. he didn’t know when it started, but somewhere along the way, those small acts of kindness had shifted into something deeper, something more complicated. and now that yerim had pointed it out, it was impossible to ignore.

the worst part? he didn’t want to. he didn’t want to admit that he was falling for you, that the thought of seeing you with someone else—a guy like jeno, someone who actually understood you in ways he never could—made him feel this... discomfort, this jealousy that gnawed at him, something he hadn’t ever expected to feel. it wasn’t like he hated jeno—no, he didn’t. he was a good guy. but the idea of him being close to you, of him holding your hand, of him kissing you... it made mark want to break something, even if he didn’t understand why.

he remembered the first time you told him you liked him. it had been so simple, so direct, and yet, it had left him shaken. "i like you, mark," you had said, and his chest had tightened. it wasn’t the confession itself—it was the way you said it, the sincerity in your eyes, the lack of hesitation. you made it sound so effortless, like it was no big deal. but to him, it felt like the world was shifting beneath his feet. he had tried to laugh it off, tried to brush it aside, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

and now, as he sat there, the realization hit him full force. yerim had been right. he was in love with you. and it scared the hell out of him.

he had always tried to convince himself that it wasn’t anything more than friendship, but the truth was staring him in the face now. this—his attention to you, the way he always found a reason to be near you, the way he knew things about you that no one else did—it wasn’t friendship. it was something else. and as much as he hated to admit it, it was something he couldn’t control anymore.

mark let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment. he didn’t know what to do with this feeling. he didn’t know how to face you, knowing this now. he had tried so hard to keep things uncomplicated, to keep the walls up, but somewhere along the way, they had crumbled without him even realizing it.

and then he thought about the way you’d looked at him this morning, about the way you’d still found time to check in on him, even though you were moving on with jeno. he hated it. he hated how much it hurt to see you with him, how it felt like he was losing you to someone else. but what could he do? he couldn’t just throw away the bond he’d spent years building with you. and yet, now that he had started to realize the truth—that he, maybe, maybe... loved you—it felt like everything he did was too little, too late.

mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration rising in his chest. he was an idiot. he always had been. and now... now you were slipping away from him. and maybe it was for the best. maybe he didn’t deserve you.

but god, did he wish he could change everything.

the professor of your writing class, a serious man with a gaze that seemed to read the minds of his students, made an unexpected announcement at the start of the class. there was a new activity, a group project where you had to work with a "superior," as he called it, to learn more about the challenges and demands that came with quality writing. as if it wasn’t enough, the professor began mentioning names, and when he got to yours, it wasn’t just any name.

"y/n," he said, his eyes locking with yours for a moment. "i know you all know mark lee. so, he'll be your partner for this task. i’m sure you'll learn a lot from him."

the entire class turned to look at you, and the blush immediately crept up your neck. they all knew you liked mark. it was obvious to everyone. a murmur spread across the tables, and a small ripple of laughter echoed in the air. your heart raced, and you could feel the tension building. you froze for a moment before quickly trying to compose yourself.

"after this class, i’ll be heading to mark’s group. so, i’ll let him know," the professor added, barely noticing your discomfort. it was as if he had done this before, pairing you two without a second thought.

the rest of the day felt like it was dragging, and even though you tried to distract yourself with the usual distractions of university life, everything felt off. your thoughts were heavy with mark. you had been in the same place so many times before, but now, it felt different. this wasn’t just any task; this was going to force you and mark into the same space, the same moments, and you didn’t know how to handle it.

later, as you met him in the university library, the tension was palpable. everything felt too familiar yet too strange. you hadn't been so close in so long, and now you were working on something that required your attention.

at first, there were small, careful interactions. you would look at him briefly, and he’d turn away, pretending to focus on the task. but soon, those little moments started to build.

one evening, you were sitting together at a table in the library. you were writing, trying to focus on the task in front of you, but mark was watching you, the air around you both charged. the quiet hum of the library didn’t help the feeling building between the two of you.

without realizing it, your hand brushed his as you reached for the same book. your heart jumped in your chest, and you both froze. he looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. when none came, he slowly took your hand into his, his fingers curling gently around yours. you didn’t pull away.

you continued to write, trying to act like nothing had changed, but every single brush of his fingers against yours made your heart race. mark, in his usual composed way, didn’t say a word. he just adjusted in his seat, took a deep breath, and continued flipping through a book with his free hand.

but you couldn’t ignore the feeling. your heart was pounding, and every moment felt too intense.

mark’s touch, his attention, was starting to feel different. the physical closeness, the subtle interactions, they were all making you feel things you didn’t know how to process.

one night, as you worked late on an essay, you were sitting in the university’s shared house, with mark next to you. the house was quiet, but the air between you two was anything but.

as you wrote the final paragraphs of your essay, mark casually placed his hand over yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. you froze for a second, then continued writing with your other hand. he didn’t let go of your hand, though. he just sat there, quietly turning the pages of his book, but his attention was completely on you.

you could feel the warmth of his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the back of yours. you were trying to focus, but everything inside you was screaming. 

what was happening between you two?

the moment felt like it would last forever. your heart raced, and your stomach twisted with nerves. the way his hand felt against yours, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him—it was all becoming too real. slowly, as if testing the waters, mark squeezed your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment that you were still there, together.

you tried to act normal, but the intensity of the moment was almost too much. you didn’t know what this was, but it felt like it was something more than you’d ever expected.

and as the days went by, you found that you were no longer just working with mark. you were starting to feel something again, something that wasn’t just based on your past feelings, but something that was growing stronger every time he smiled at you, every time he reached for your hand, every time his voice got just a little bit softer when he spoke to you.

you were starting to realize that you were falling for him all over again.

mark sat alone in his room that night, the moonlight spilling through the window as he stared at the pages of his book without really seeing them. his mind kept drifting back to the moments he had shared with you—those small touches, those fleeting glances that made his heart skip a beat. it was impossible to ignore the feelings that were starting to bubble up inside him.

why does it feel like this? he thought. this wasn’t supposed to happen.

he remembered when you first started writing him those letters, how you didn’t care that others saw, how you openly told him you liked him. at first, it made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how to react. but now, looking back, he realized it had always been more than just a casual thing for him. you had always been more.

mark sighed as he recalled those moments when he would catch himself thinking about you in class, or how his eyes would follow you around the room. it’s not just concern, is it? he thought. i care about you more than i ever wanted to admit.

he thought about how he would remember the little things—like how you always smelled like lavender, how you would always bite your lip when you were concentrating, how you’d laugh at the smallest jokes. he knew you so well. but why hadn’t he realized it before?

mark leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. it’s not just worry... it’s something more. his heart ached as he realized the truth, and it was almost too much to bear.

he was falling for you.

the days passed in a soft, almost imperceptible way, but mark could feel the change. it wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was there, lingering between you two like a quiet hum. at first, the moments were small — a brush of your fingers as you passed him the pen, a shared smile when the professor made an awkward joke, the way he always seemed to look for you in the crowded hallways. you had grown so accustomed to each other's presence that it felt almost natural to be together, even in silence. but there was a difference now.

he was aware.

mark noticed the way you would glance at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, the soft curl of your smile when he said something funny, or the way you always tried to be near him. he noticed the little things, things that before he might have brushed aside. it was easy to pretend that it was nothing, but deep down, he couldn’t ignore it anymore. you were changing something inside him, something he wasn’t sure how to handle.

they started to get closer, working together more than the project required, as if there was something magnetic pulling them together. late nights in the library, sharing the quiet, with nothing but the sound of papers shuffling and soft footsteps on the floor. the way mark would sneak glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, the way his hand would linger near yours when you passed the pencil over to him. it was simple, tender. there was no rush, no hurry — just a slow, steady burn.

one evening, as you both sat at the same table in the house, the quiet between you two felt charged with something unspoken. mark had just handed you a book you’d asked for, his fingers brushing yours for a moment too long. you felt it, and so did he.

"you’ve been quiet," mark said, his voice low, almost thoughtful. "thinking about the project, or… something else?"

you glanced at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken. "maybe both," you replied, your voice soft.

mark raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "you know, it’s funny. we’ve spent all this time together, but i still don’t think i know everything about you."

you smiled, trying to play it cool, but inside, you were nervous. "what do you want to know?"

he didn’t answer immediately. instead, he leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "i guess… i just want to know how you see the world. the little things that make you… well, you."

you blinked, taken aback by the question. it felt oddly intimate, like he was asking to know you on a deeper level, not just as a classmate or a friend, but as something more.

"that’s… a lot to ask," you murmured, your cheeks flushing.

mark smiled, his gaze softening. "maybe," he said quietly. "but i think… i think you’re worth the effort."

the way his voice sounded made something tighten in your chest. 

you didn’t know what it was, but you felt it — that spark, that connection.

and so it continued, these quiet, intimate moments between the two of you. each one made the feelings grow stronger, but neither of you acknowledged it outright. there was no rush. this wasn’t about forcing something, it was just about being together, in whatever way it worked. a slow, steady love building like a quiet storm.

finally, the day came for you to present your project. everyone had gathered in the lecture hall, seniors and juniors alike. the professor was setting up the papers, his usual stern expression softened by the anticipation in the room. the seniors were all whispering among themselves, and you couldn’t help but notice how mark sat just a little too still in his chair, his eyes occasionally glancing over at you.

the professor cleared his throat, signaling that it was time. "alright, y/n, mark — it’s your turn. please come up and present."

you stood up, your heart beating a little faster as you walked up to the front, your palms sweaty. mark was beside you, his presence oddly comforting, though you could feel the tension between you two. you weren’t sure what to expect, but you knew that something was about to change.

mark didn’t speak right away. instead, he took your project, carefully setting it down on the desk in front of the class. you watched as he stood behind it, adjusting his posture and looking around at the gathered group. for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, then he cleared his throat.

"before i present this," he began, his voice steady but with a certain softness that made you pause, "i think i should talk about something else."

your stomach dropped. what was he doing?

the professor, who had been prepared to listen to a formal presentation, now looked intrigued. "mark?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

mark’s gaze shifted to you for a moment, then back to the class. he was taking his time, choosing his words carefully."this is a story about someone i came to know. at first, i didn’t think much of it. she was just someone i worked with, just another student. but as time went on, i began to notice little things. the way she always smiled, even when she was exhausted. the way she laughed at things that most people would have ignored. the way she always tried to be better, even when she didn’t have to."

mark paused, and you felt your heart race as your eyes locked with his. his voice had a strange warmth to it, and the room seemed to hold its breath as he continued.

"i don’t know when it happened, exactly. it wasn’t a moment — it wasn’t like i suddenly realized. but i know that one day, i found myself thinking about her when she wasn’t around. and when i looked at her, it felt like i was seeing something… something that was more than just a person. it felt like i was seeing a world, a life. and i wanted to know more, to be close to her, to understand who she was."

mark looked at you then, his gaze soft and steady. "this person… she’s not just anyone. she’s someone who changed the way i see things, who made me realize what it means to care about someone. and i think, somewhere along the way, i realized… i was falling for her."

you felt your breath catch in your throat. 

he was talking about you.

there was a stunned silence in the room. even the professor looked taken aback for a moment, his mouth slightly agape. mark continued, the words flowing from him almost effortlessly.

"this might not be the most professional presentation," he said, his voice now more playful, "but it’s the truth. and i think… that’s the most important part of any story."

the professor, still recovering from the surprise, gave a small chuckle, but quickly regained his composure. "well, mark," he said, "that was… certainly unexpected. but if after all that, you don’t present the real work," he said, raising an eyebrow, "i’ll have no choice but to fail you. and your partner."

mark smiled, but you could see the playfulness in his eyes fade. "don’t worry," he said softly, "the real work is here." he turned, pulling the actual project from under the desk and placing it in front of you. "y/n, it’s all yours."

you couldn’t help but blush, your heart still racing from his words. the class was silent, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. mark’s confession had left an unexpected warmth in the room, and for a moment, it felt like everything had shifted. everything felt different.

the rest of the room buzzed with whispers, the air thick with the lingering tension. you felt the weight of the moment heavy in your chest, but you were frozen, unable to move. mark’s words had completely caught you off guard, and now, as he stood there, his usual confident demeanor had softened — there was a vulnerability in his posture, a quiet but undeniable sincerity in the way his eyes met yours.

for a second, everything felt out of place, like time had slowed down just for you two. your heart was pounding in your ears, and yet, there was a part of you that was oddly calm. 

this was real.

this moment, this confession — it wasn’t just a dream.

you glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of your classmates. some of them looked just as stunned as you, others had the tiniest smirk tugging at the corners of their lips, and the professor, still slightly in shock, was scribbling something on his notepad, probably to process what had just transpired.

mark cleared his throat, his eyes still on you, waiting for a response. but you were too overwhelmed to speak. you just looked at him, taking in the moment, trying to find the words that seemed to be stuck in your throat.

the warmth from his words, the honesty in his voice, left a tingling sensation in the air. but as much as you wanted to hold it together, the words he said, the way he looked at you — it was too much. the feelings you had buried so deep, the longing you had hidden, began to spill out uncontrollably.

your hands shook as the tears began to well up. you couldn’t stop them. they fell freely, a mix of relief, sadness, and love all at once. the room fell silent, everyone staring at you. and you knew. they all knew. but now it was your turn to finally say it out loud, to let go of the fear of rejection.

"i’ve always loved you, mark," you whispered, your voice shaky, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "i’ve been in love with you for so long, thinking i was just some fool. but... i can’t hide it anymore."

you looked up, your vision blurry with tears, and there he was. mark, standing before you, a mixture of surprise and something softer in his eyes. he didn’t seem shocked, but there was something in his gaze that said he knew. it wasn’t a revelation to him — he had always known.

“i— i don’t know what to say, but... thank you,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “thank you for loving me all this time. for waiting. for staying. i... i had no idea. i didn’t want to admit it to myself.” he paused for a moment, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "but now... i get it. i’m starting to understand what i feel, and it’s... you. it’s always been you."

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might fall apart. but mark’s steady presence kept you grounded. he was here, and he was saying things you had longed to hear for so long.

“i’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out,” he continued, his voice quiet but filled with so much emotion. "i’ve been... holding back. afraid. but now, i can’t hide it anymore. i like you. i like you so much. i’ve been trying to pretend it was something else, but it’s you. it’s always been you."

your heart raced, your chest tight, as his words sank in. this wasn’t just a confession from you anymore. it wasn’t just about what you had been feeling. mark felt the same way.

“thank you for loving me,” he whispered, his hand reaching out slowly to take yours. his fingers brushed over your skin, sending a wave of warmth through your body. “it’s my turn now, to love you back. for real.”

you blinked, a soft gasp escaping you, and the tears came again, this time in a different way. not from sadness, but from the overwhelming emotion of knowing that after all this time, mark was finally letting himself feel the same. finally.

“you don’t have to thank me,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath, but your chest felt full, the emotions swirling inside you, making it impossible to think clearly. "i just needed you to know how i felt. i... i never thought you’d feel the same."

mark smiled softly, stepping closer until his chest was almost pressed against yours. “i do. i really do. and i’m not going anywhere. i want to be with you, if you’ll let me. no more hiding. no more pretending."

your heart soared as you looked at him, standing so close, his eyes full of honesty. you had waited so long for this, and now it was happening.

“i want that too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "i want to be with you, mark. always."

mark nodded slowly, his hand resting gently on the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. "then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice warm and soft, a promise in the words.

the world outside seemed to disappear as you stood there, together, finally on the same page. no more hiding, no more pretending. just the two of you, taking the first step toward what you both knew could be something real.

days passed, and the universe seemed to shift around you. mark and you were no longer just two people who shared silent glances and unsaid words. now, you were together, the air around you both full of something new, something beautiful. but not everyone understood it right away.

you and mark sat together in the cafeteria, just the two of you, laughing quietly. the others were around you, but it was as if the world had faded, and it was just the two of you in that small bubble. you could feel it—the connection, stronger than ever.

haechan, sitting across the table with jisung and jaemin, eyed you both with an exaggerated glance. his expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement. he leaned toward jaemin and sighed.

"i never thought i'd see mark being all... cheesy and love-struck like that," ahechan chuckled, nudging jaemin with his elbow. "i swear, he's practically glowing."

jaemin, who had been quietly observing, just shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "yeah, well, mark's always been that way when it comes to her," he muttered, already knowing what was coming. "took him long enough, though."

meanwhile, jisung, still looking grumpy about something, crossed his arms over his chest and shot a look at chenle. "you know what this means, right? i’m gonna have to give you 100,000 won now."

chenle grinned like he had won the lottery. "told you they'd get together eventually," he said with a teasing wink, clearly proud of his bet-winning skills.

jisung grumbled, staring at his half-eaten sandwich. "i hate you. i can’t believe i lost this bet."

"it’s not like you had much of a chance, anyway," chenle teased, laughing.

jaemin just sighed, shaking his head as if he already knew what was coming. "this was inevitable," he muttered under his breath. "mark was always going to fall for her. he just took his time."

you glanced at mark, your hand casually resting in his as you both shared a quiet smile. it was the kind of smile that said everything without saying a word.

renjun’s voice broke the moment. "so, when's the wedding?" he joked, but there was warmth in his eyes. "mark's acting like he's already head over heels. never thought i'd see the day."

mark’s cheeks flushed, but he squeezed your hand gently, his eyes soft. "i’m just taking my time with her," he said, his voice full of affection.

you laughed, your heart soaring. it felt right. this was real.

and though everyone around you may have teased and joked, you knew deep down that this was only the beginning. you and mark had found something special. something that, despite the slow burn, had bloomed into something beautiful and undeniable.

“so,” ahechan continued, looking at the two of you with a teasing grin, “when do we get to hear about your first official date?”

you turned to mark, your heart racing in your chest. "maybe you should wait for that one," you said with a wink, “but... it’s gonna be worth it.”

the group burst into laughter, and mark’s hand tightened around yours, his smile the brightest thing in the room. because no matter what anyone else said, you and mark had finally found each other, and nothing else mattered.

[bloodybunniprincess]

simon helping your aching heart with his aching cock !

{mdni} {wc : 2k} simon is a bit of a meani :(

it wasn’t a surprise, not a shock to your core that you had expected. not the same overbearing despair of when your mother left the ground, or even when your first puppy came to join her. more of a relief. fresh breath of air that your lungs had been begging your weak body for. he was gone, down in the ground, six feet deep, hands finally releasing its tight grip on the glass bottle.

the funeral was a breeze. it felt nice. relatives sobbed like they were close with him. they didn’t know how he charged towards you behind closed doors—how you would be on your bruised knees, desperately trying to clean up the broken shards of glass that he had broken. having to look over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure he hadn’t risen off the floorboards he had passed out on.

yet, despite your fathers antics—you visited. you gracefully set down flowers on his grave that were supposed to be a bouquet you would carry down the isle, arm hooked with his. soon they would be shriveled up and you’d come around like you had to—like it was your duty, making another delivery to his headstone. if no one else did it, he’d be forgotten, and you couldn’t come to terms with whether you’d want that or not.

“still bringing posies i see.” it’s gruff, and you recognize it easily. his voice was reassuring, but you wouldn’t let yourself be pliant in it, to bask in it. you were bowed in front of your fathers name, as if he deserved the treatment. simon wanted to take that from your father. you being a good pup for him instead. “it’s not gonna go away easily just because you act like you don’t give a shit.” the grass next to you withers underneath the weight of his heavy knees, but to you it felt like the earth shook.

you let out a breath. “you don’t know that.” your tone is sharp, words eager to leave your mouth and you don’t care to control the anger in them. you’re closed in, shoulders crunching together solemnly, a shield to protect yourself. it was built nicely and with care, took years to get to its full potential.

sooner or later you’d crack, realizing your deadbeat dad was set out in the ground and left to rot. and simon was sure of that. dark eyes peering over you, you felt them. he could easily get under your skin and plant himself there, but he never took that advantage to his use yet. it’s been thought about, resting in the crook of his brain that dark memories settled coldly.

“never taught ya how to ride a bicycle, how to tie your own shoes, how to do your math homework. did he?” you waited for his words to go in one ear and out the other but it stuck right in the center of your brain. mocking. and simon did it well.

“wasn’t there for ya first day of middle school. wasn’t there when you got your first car. didn’t give a shit about prom, or your first boyfriend and when the scumbag left when the pureness was fucked right out of you.” you flinch.

simon watches you like you’re his prey, to see how you would fold. how you would crumble and roll over into his arms, away from the man below them. watching as your tightly knit shell unraveled and laid out for him to tear apart even more—and then sew it back together again. to become that new higher figure for you to go to. that shoulder to lean on.

your mouth is wired shut, teeth running across the fronts, waiting to be pried open and let out some harsh thoughts, to prove he was wrong—defend your father who had nothing worth defending. but you had none to give. you couldn’t. simon was there for all those events. the special ones that should’ve been photographed. when you’re dad was knocked out cold on the couch, simon was on the front porch watching you like you were his own. simon acted as that overprotective father when your prom date arrived, eyes low and prowling, ready to rip of the boys head if he dared touch you the wrong way.

“your father sure is somethin.” you didn’t make the move to correct your date that he wasn’t your father—you two weren’t even related. but it didn’t feel necessary to tell that fact. would it really be all that untrue? simon was that father figure you needed. he was gentle. firm but encouraging. all he wanted was the best for you—make you come out a bit better than you would if he wasn’t around.

that or maybe he wanted to be the owner of you. make you bow down to him just like you were now at your fathers grave. make you need him. and in return he could lick up your tears and kiss down on your cheeks with mock care. cooing sweetly before managing to press his lips against your soft, pouty ones just to be able to stick his tongue down deep and rough later. he didn’t care about your well-being, just how far he could make you go until you caved in, to let him indulge in his cravings.

the tears that refused to come out at the ceremony ran loose as it all settled into the nook of your skull. simon knew he had you now. his lips tighten in a straight line in a way to seem distressed by your behavior, eyes holding mock pity but you saw it as sympathy. saw a person that cared, that was willing to take you under his wing—like he always had. simon kept you safe and tucked in his arms, to comfort you from both the situation and the cold that started to creep up your arms as night settled in. you had caved. pliant in his strong arms scarred from stories he swore to never tell you—and he was firm on that. to keep you unaware of the harm he could do. to keep you thinking he was your savior, the only one you could rely on.

the cloth of his black t was stained with your salty tears, he knew what they would taste like. he’d imagine countless times before—darting his tongue out to draaag the roughness down your cheek, receiving a pathetic whine of displeasure from you. maybe even a little shove to get him away, only for him to drive you back into his bulk, forcing you to let him clean you up.

he’d like to see you squirm—propping you up in his lap so you could feel his very noteworthy bulge resting against the skin of your thigh. get you all warm and comfortable with his hard, make you wet enough—that you would give into the intensity of the throbbing sensation in between your legs. make you needy. not for some silly boy—or even the need to be comforted by your father. but for him. for his comfort. for his body, for his cock. have you mewling for it, foaming at the mouth like a little puppy dog. scratching against his chest, as if it would hurt him. as if it could make him give in.

he was trained to not give into his desires, his dirty fantasies he’d been having since you were in highschool. he was able to wait—and he’d wait until you were begging, sobbing for some sort of relief. make you grieve over it, your cunt soppy from ceaselessly grinding against the clothed bulge, already imagining it stuffing you full. keep you from needing any kind of meal.

and now he wouldn’t have to imagine.

his cock was wrapped snuggly in your tight hole, warm and just so pleasant. the warmth of your pussy making him go a bit hazy, eyes barley open but the smug look on his lips was clear. though, you couldn’t see it for your face was buried deep, deep into the crook of his neck. hiding your face, the shame of being seated on your father’s friends lap. right in front of his grave. ashamed that it felt so good—but so disgusting.

your tears were hot. simon found them hot. falling on his neck making him grip your hips with an unknown amount of pressure you had ever felt before—it made you squeak. your tears made him hard—making him want to fuck you hard, enough for you to loose consciousness, enough to make you sob, to cum right into that tight little hole that had only been fucked once.

simon saw the guilt—chagrin on your face. god he loved it. “dirty girl.” he purred, mouth pressed against your ear, breathing heavily into it. “sittin on my cock—right next to daddy, huh? and just so worked up for me.” your pussy quenched around him, sucking him into your sloppy folds.

you shook your head—trying to defend yourself. make a practical excuse that you wanted to make yourself believe. “please—please don’t s-say that.” you’re shaking, hands trembling as they grab his wide shoulders for some sort of support.

“why, afraid he’s listening?” his laugh his predatory—mocking. he got you on his cock so comfort was needed no more from his part. though, he couldn’t help his thumbs from rubbing small circles on the sides of your hips, the slightest bit of comfort in the pain you were facing.

simon was huge, thick and girthy, more than enough to fill you up to the brim, leaving his oozing, pink tip brushing against that sweet spot that hadn’t been touched effectively before.

he sighs deeply, “ya know…he probably is listenin. looking down—or may i say up—at us. cursing me, cursing you for being such a filthy, nasty girl. a whore as his daughter.” his mouth his pressed firmly on your cheek as he speaks, forcing you to listen and take it. “thinking where he went wrong. alcoholic tendencies is my guess.”

you couldn’t help but feel your slick run down your thigh, bouncing with little strength you had with moans that made him chuckle lowly. his words were so cruel, hitting your heart but hitting your cunt deeper. “come on darling. gotta apologize to daddy for being such a dirty whore.” he muffles. a sharp spank to your ass makes you jump with a whimper, pussy quivering around him.

“i…i’m sorry, daddy!” you squeal. tears rolling down your eyes like a little babi. so cute. you feel his hands grip you tighter if it was even possible—slamming you down on his cock, making you cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “i said i was sorry! i’m so, so sorry.”

simon’s heavy pointer lazily circles down to your clit, his movements softer but anxiously slow. “sorry about what? be specific, darling.” he feels your hips jerk forward in attempt to get more out of him, causing another sharp spank to your other ass cheek, and gently massaging the reddened skin afterward.

“i’m sorry for being—being a d-dirty, whore! i’m sorry for disappointing daddy.” your plea is whiny, your clit aching for more stimulation. eyes are strained—everything is. tight and wanting permission to let loose.

“don’t just say it to me. say it to him.” his chin nods to the headstone just a few feet away. you could practically smell his rotting corpse melting in the dirt, making you queasy. mortified, eyes shaking from left to right. you wanted to ask if it was necessary—to lock eyes with something that would make you feel so much more than shame. but the look on simons face was firm.

your head turns and locks eyes with your father name engraved on the stone, barely visible from the lack of light left in the sky. “i am so sorry daddy. im sorry for being a filthy whore—for sitting on s-simons cock.” the words are slurred and easily fall from your lips. and you’re rewarded with his fingers moving the slightest bit faster on your clit, simultaneously moving you up and down his cock.

“there ya go, sweetheart.” he drawls quietly, lips pressing a soft, sticky kiss to your forehead and then to your collarbone. “thats a good girl, ain’t it?” his brows are furrowed, breaths a bit ragged now. your movements hasty, grinding to get his dick to hit just the right spot. “gonna fuck you nasty right on my cock—don’t worry, i’m sure daddy will understand.”

➽───────❥

[magical-awesome-kid]

I looked at the councilwoman in disbelief.

I was now twenty, having spent most of my life studying and learning, practicing, mastering magic. I could now down a young dragon, though my parents and teachers had always said that was barely the standard for a student my age.

And here I was, applying for the Master’s exam, and the magistrate had to tell me this.

“I’m… the youngest?”

“By a long shot.” She said, her smile confused. She was in her mid thirties, maybe a little later. I’d honed my senses to detect the faintest signs of illusion magic, so this was how she actually looked.

“Why, yes. Most people don’t take this exam until they’re in their thirties.” She nodded. “I only took mine five years ago, when I was forty-five.”

“Wait, you’re fifty??? I thought you were thirty-five!”

“Oh! You’re a charmer.” She waved her hand. “Good genes and a few good skin potions for the wrinkles, but, yes, and I was considered quite young for my time then. Most mages your age are applying for schools and discovering their specialties, after all.”

Specialties? I’d taken the coursework at seven.

Because that is what it takes to be a good wizard. My mother had tutted.

Not even good. Just basic. My teachers had added.

“So, hypothetically, when do most people start studying magic…?”

She hummed. “I think most teenagers begin to dabble, but most people do not seriously commit until they are in their twenties. Magic has a way of extending one’s life, after all, and life experience often is a large part of discovery and Magic.”

I felt my soul shatter in my chest. All the years of lies. Of telling me that only the wealthy could have magic, and therefore the most powerful must hone their magic young, lest they lose it.

I’d never gotten to just be because they’d expected me to be a magnificent wizard.

They used me.

Something trailed down my face.

I reached up and found tears on my cheeks. I hadn’t cried in front of someone in so long…

“Oh, oh no, honey….”

The interview changed very rapidly after.

From the long desk and hard chair, we’d moved to a small side room with squishy chairs, walls of books, and a warm atmosphere that welcomed someone in. The woman dried my eyes and handed me water, allowing me to collect myself.

I told her of what I’d been told. Of what I experienced.

Her face darkened.

“I must admit, I had heard of your family.” She admitted. “Your parents always painted you as a naturally gifted child, that you mastered magic like it was breathing.”

It hadn’t been. It was gruesome work.

By the end, I just felt disgusted. They expected me to take the exam and take a place in the Magical Ministry, rise the ranks, just as a half-way decent wizard was expected to.

And I wanted nothing more than to crawl back in time and shake my younger self, tell them to use that Fly spell and escape out the window, go play with the town children instead of being locked in the tower.

I spilled my guts because I didn’t know what else to do.

“If I may.” The councilwoman, Grace, said as she set her coffee to the side. “For all that magic is grand, Chronomancy has always been finicky at best.” She joked, and my lips perked some at that. “While we can’t turn back the clock, we can do something going forward.”

“Like what?”

She waved her hand, and a folder flew off the shelf and flew to her. “You are the same age as someone in University, and I happen to know quite a few school professors who wouldn’t mind adding a student to their ranks. Meet people your own age, explore your interests both in and outside of the magical sciences.

“And, if you are worried about being known, I do have one other option.” She pulled out a small slip, handing it over.

It was a posting from the Adventurer’s Guild.

“I spent my latter twenties traveling with a crew of Adventurers.” She admitted. “It was like nothing I’d done before, and it was the kind of time I needed to find who I wanted to be. I’m still friends with many of them to this day. I can help you find a guild, a team, whatever you want to do. Most level E adventurers are in their teens, but I think I can get you in as a D or C without revealing too much about your magical past. Anyone there would accept you just as what you want to present.”

I took the slip. There was a crude drawing on it of a warrior, a cleric, a rogue, and a mage. The note has a call for new adventurers.

Adventuring had always been a field of tight contention among the wealthy and powerful. Adventurers were largely civilians to start, and, while they generally followed the rules of the land, they rarely bowed unless it was warranted to their morals. Powerful adventurers would rise to attend events amongst nobility, and they oft stepped on every unsaid rule without worry.

My own parents had often spoken of Adventurers as annoyances, only being polite because it was a means to an end, and even then, some Adventurers just did not care.

If nothing else, it would absolutely piss them off.

“Can you tell me more about Adventuring?”

Learning magic is an arduous journey, requiring sacrifice and dedication. Your parents made you give up your childhood to study magic—only after completing your studies do you learn that most other mages actually choose to start in adulthood.

[lcvejjoong]

never liked you

pairing : playboy! wooyoung x nerd! fem! reader

synopsis : You thought he was different. But when the truth unraveled, so did everything you believed about love.

genre : fluff, angst

warnings : none

author’s note : ngl i crashed out somewhere near the end but it was fun to write ig 🥹

word count : 4.5k

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Does love ever last?

You didn’t know.

You never really tried to find out. Having many exams to ace and projects to finish, it didn’t really help in your love life.

Come on, just give him a try. You never know, maybe he’s the one!

You were willing at first, thinking that nothing will go wrong. But when your classmate ran into class bawling her eyes out after her boyfriend dumped her, you hesitated.

After a few days of thinking, you told the boy that you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment yet. That resulted in an awkward moment for him, considering the fact that he had a bunch of flowers in his hand.

You felt bad. Really bad. You liked him, yes, but you were afraid that whatever happened to your classmate will happen to you.

You never really thought about it after. Several boys put letters and gifts in your locker on Valentines, but they all went unanswered, courtesy of you cooped up in your dorm, furiously reading through your notes and pulling all-nighters for exams.

Your friends had begged you to try again, saying that your life will be ‘boring’ and ‘lonely’. You brushed them off, saying that studying is your life. “Plus, I have you guys,” you added, nudging them while laughing.

But then again, life has other plans for you.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

Love.

The teacher’s sharp voice brought you back from your daydreaming.

You looked up to see her standing by the door with a student, saying something about being late. Although you were seated at the far back of the room, you could make out the tall figure and the long black hair of the boy.

His eyes met yours, and he gave you a smirk with a playful wink.

You turned away, rolling your eyes.

Jung Wooyoung. The school’s playboy, known for breaking girl’s hearts.

For fun.

And though you have zero interest in him, you found your cheeks feeling a little hot. Luckily, the teacher didn’t notice, ushering Wooyoung back to his seat before beginning the lesson.

Once again, you were drifting off, staring outside the window thinking about what to eat during your break.

Suddenly, you heard : “Jung Wooyoung and Kang Y/N.”

You whipped your head to board, finding a big ‘Research Project’ written on it. “This project will be 50% of your final grade, so please take it seriously. If you have any questions, feel free to email me.” The teacher continued, stacking up her books and preparing to leave the classroom.

You hurriedly packed your bag, ignoring the calls of your classmates. Your head was a mess. There was no way this was happening.

“Y/N!” Wooyoung’s voice cut through the hallway, causing you to walk faster.

He jogged up in front of you, waving several pieces of paper in your face.

“You forgot to take the project paper. Luckily, I got you,” he winked.

You scoffed, snatching the paper and continuing your walk to your dorm to reflect on what you did to deserve this.

His fingers closed around your wrist, bringing you to a sudden stop and forcing you to face him.

You tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

“Let go of my hand,” you said, your voice low and threatening.

He held your gaze and said, “Look, I don’t care what you think about me — I need this grade.”

You pulled back slightly, startled. “I thought you didn’t care about grades.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t risk being kicked out of school, so I’ll have to make do.” He smiled a little, releasing your hand. “So, your place? Mine’s a little messy.”

You let out a breath. “Alright. 1 p.m. tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

He did a little salute and said, “Can’t wait!” before running off.

“Don’t forget to bring your books!” you yelled, earning a faint “Yes, madam” in return.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

You didn’t know if you were anxious or excited.

Staring at the cookies baking in the oven, you were leaning on the small table top in your kitchenette. Brushing your fingers against your wrist, you remember the gentle but firm grip of his hand.

There was just something about him that made you constantly think about…

The sharp doorbell interrupted your train of thought. Hurriedly, you opened the door to find Wooyoung standing outside, books on one hand and a plastic bag on the other.

“Hey,” he smiled, lifting the bag he was holding, “I brought us some drinks.”

“Come in.” you replied, offering him a small smile, stepping aside to make way for him.

He took in a breath and asked, “Are you baking cookies?” You nodded, “Yea, I was bored so I figured I’d bake while waiting for you.”

“Well it must be a sign because I love cookies,” he grinned, helping himself on the couch. He took the plastic bag and pulled out 2 drinks, handing one over.

You took it tentatively, looking at it with an unsure expression.

Noticing your hesitance, he chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t poison it.” You looked at him with utter disbelief. “It’s not that. This is actually my favourite drink. Only my closest friends know that.”

“Then I must be destined to be your friend.” He joked. You rolled your eyes, muttering a ‘whatever’.

But what you didn’t realise was that you were smiling.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

After a few hours of reading, writing, joking around and munching on cookies, you were finally done with a section of the project. You let out a huge yawn, stretching your arms while briefly closing your eyes.

When you opened them, you found Wooyoung staring at you.

“Is there something on my face?” You panicked, hurriedly wiping at whatever unknown particle on your skin.

He didn’t say anything, only standing up from where he sat. You quickly stood up, thinking he was going to leave already.

But instead of going towards the door, he made his way towards you.

He took a step closer, then stopped, just inches from you, his body trembling slightly.

His hand hovered, uncertain, near your cheek. His fingers twitched, just a fraction of a movement, as if they wanted to reach out.

Your breath hitched, waiting. He leaned in, lips hovering right above yours. You could feel the heat in the air, making your heart race, the beat quick and erratic, like it was trying to escape from your chest. You could feel his breath hitting your nose, shallow and fast.

You wanted to pull away. But a part of you made you stay where you were. Your mouth went dry as you watched him licked his lips, and unknowingly, you leaned in closer.

“Are you sure…?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if asking for your permission.

You didn’t answer, your mind not responding. Slowly, almost painfully so, he closed the gap. His hand moved to your jaw, finally touching your skin, the warmth of his face grounding you in the moment.

Then, with a hesitation that stretched out like an eternity, he kissed you.

And without thinking, you kissed him back.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t forceful. It was gentle, tentative, as though he were testing the waters, feeling you out. It was the kiss of someone who had wanted this for a long time but was too afraid to make the first move.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, his hand lingered against your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin. You didn’t say anything, heart pounding in your chest, still racing from the kiss, but your mind was slow to catch up.

He didn’t move, didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he just stared at you, his lips still slightly parted, eyes wide, like he was processing it too. And that uncertainty… it made you feel even more exposed. Was he playing you? Or was he waiting for you to say something? Your mouth felt dry again.

“I…” he started, the expectancy growing in your heart. But his words trailed off, and the panic rushed back into you.

“I’m sorry, did…did I scare you?” he asked. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His hand dropped from your cheek. He straightened, shuffling back.

“Uhm…I should probably get going. It’s pretty late.” You didn’t trust yourself to say anything, so you just nodded. Picking up his bag and making his way to the door, he gave you a soft smile and said “Thanks for today, y/n,” before stepping out of your dorm.

That night, you lay in bed, tangled in blankets, staring up at the ceiling as if you could find the answers to your questions hidden in the cracks of the paint, before falling into a dreamless sleep.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

“Y/n!”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Your head jerked toward the front of the room.

Your teacher was staring right at you, arms crossed. The rest of the class turned in unison, a wave of curious glances and stifled snickers.

“You want to join us back on Earth?” she said, voice laced with just enough sarcasm to make your cheeks flush.

You looked down, embarrassed, from all the stares of the classroom, especially from Wooyoung, who was sitting a few tables away.

You purposely came earlier to avoid seeing him at his usual spot against the lockers, and ignored the texts he sent.

You couldn’t stop replaying it. Every detail was etched in your memory: the way his hand had brushed your cheek, the way his breath had felt against your skin, the quiet after the kiss when neither of you spoke. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you tried to ignore the warmth spreading over your cheeks.

Stop thinking about it, you told yourself. There was no reason to. No reason to replay that moment over and over again, imagining how it would feel, how it might change everything. You clenched your fist around your sleeve. Wooyoung was a playboy. It didn’t mean anything to him. It didn’t mean anything to you.

But part of you wanted to believe that it did. You weren’t sure what it meant, or why it made you feel so… unsteady.

You sighed, rubbing your temples, attempting to calm yourself down. Glancing at the clock, you were relieved to find the class ending in a minute. Great, I won’t see him for another two days after this. You hurriedly shoved your books in your bag, waiting for the signal to leave from your teacher. Once you heard ‘that’s all for today’, you bolted out of the classroom.

You turned the corner of the hallway, turning back to check if anyone had followed you. You let out a small breath of relief, straightening your clothes before walking away calmly.

“Y/n.”

You turned on your heel, attempting to run. You didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see what was written all over his face—regret? Confusion? Or worse… nothing at all.

But you didn’t get far.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but gentle, halting you in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned halfway, refusing to meet his eyes.

You didn’t answer, still not meeting his gaze. “Why are you avoiding me?” You didn’t answer, still not meeting his gaze. “Is it because of yesterday?”

You kept your gaze down. Your free hand clenched.

“It was a mistake,” you said. He let out a short breath, almost like a laugh but not quite. “Then why are you running?”

You flinched at that. Not enough for anyone to notice, but he did.

He was still holding your wrist, but not pulling you back. Just waiting.

“I’m not running,” you said, still not facing him.

“Right.” A pause. “Then look at me.”

You didn’t. Couldn’t.

You shook your head. “I’ve got class.”

“Say that, then,” he said, quiet but certain. “But don’t stand there and pretend that kiss meant nothing. Not when you’re shaking like that.”

You hated that he could feel it—how your wrist trembled ever so slightly in his hand.

Slowly, you turned to face him. Your expression was guarded, eyes hard. The kind of look you give someone when you're trying not to fall apart in front of them.

“Did it even mean anything to you?” you asked.

His jaw tensed slightly, like he hadn’t expected the question. Like he’d been preparing for a fight—not honesty. But he didn’t answer.

Your heart sank. You had expected it, but it still hurt more than you thought it would. You shook your head, “Like I thought, it didn’t. Another fling for the playboy.” You attempted to yank your hand from his grip, but it only got tighter.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t say it like that.” You shook your head, “But it’s true, isn’t it. I’m just a fling to you, another random girl for you to kiss.”

“But you're not.” He said. “I…I wanted it to mean something. I just thought that you didn’t want it to be anything.”

You froze. Did you hear him correctly?

He looked down. “I like you. I really do. But if you don’t want to, I understand.” He dropped your hand and sighed. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” He was about to walk away but you stopped him.

“Do you mean it? Do you actually like me?” You questioned. He paused, turning around. “I do. I asked the teacher for tuition and used it as an excuse to be paired with you.”

Then, unexpectedly, you smiled.

Not big. Not dramatic. Just this small, sideways grin tugging at the corner of your mouth, the kind that betrayed everything you’d been trying to hide.

“I like you too,” you said, turning to face him fully now. “I was confused at first. But I think…” you paused, looking up at him, “I think I acted by my feelings.”

“You really thought I kissed you just to run away forever?” you asked, not even bothering to hide the laugh in your voice.

His mouth parted, like he wanted to say something, maybe even smile back. You looked at him, and something in his face shifted. The hesitation was gone, replaced by this slow, surprised softness.

“I didn’t know you could talk like that.” You laughed, and he grinned. “Does that make you my girlfriend now?” Your eyes lit up, and you gave him a small nod. He opened his arms and you naturally sank into them, wrapping your arms around him as he embraced you. “I won’t be going anywhere,” he whispered.

And for once, you believed him.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

It’s been a few months now.

And somehow, it still catches you off guard sometimes—like when he grabs your hand without thinking, or says something under his breath in class that makes you laugh when you were supposed to be paying attention. Or when he looks at you like you were the only person in the room, even when the hallway was packed.

You never made a big deal out of it. No announcements, no labels screamed into the void. Just you and him. Quiet moments. Shared playlists. Fingers brushing across notebooks. Late-night calls where you don’t even say much, just listen to each other breathe.

And it’s easy. Easier than you expected. No games. No second-guessing. Just someone who makes you feel like you can show up exactly as you are—and he’ll still look at you like you matter.

Your friends had been skeptical at first, given his reputation in school. But after seeing how happy you were with him, they didn’t say anything.

After all, they were the ones who had asked you to get a boyfriend.

Maybe you can finally answer your own question. Maybe love does last forever.

But then again, life isn’t always that easy.

It was a typical Friday evening, and you were seated on Wooyoung’s couch, fidgeting with his hoodie on your lap.

You two will usually meet at his place to watch a movie every week, but today he texted you, saying that he would be late due to a hold up in class, telling you to make yourself comfortable and pick a movie while waiting for him.

Putting the controller down on the table, you got up to prepare some snacks to eat during the movie. Bringing the bowl to the small table in front of the couch, you were about to take a bite of the chocolate when your phone buzzed. Thinking it was Wooyoung, you quickly picked up your phone to reply to him, only to see an unknown number pop up on your screen.

At first you thought it was a scam. But when you unlocked your phone to block it, you found a shirt video followed by a “I’m sorry.” after. Curiosity got the better of you and you tapped into the chat.

The video was taken at an awkward angle, suggesting that the person was recording in secret. You turned your head to getting a better view of the people in it.

There were three boys gathered around a hooded guy leaning against the lockers and they were talking about something. The recorder moved closer, opening a locker to make him or her less suspicious. The guy leaning on the locker turned his head, revealing the unmistakable dark hair of Wooyoung. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him, eyes darting towards the bowl of chocolates waiting on the table.

You snapped your focus back to the video when the guy with a perfect slim nose asked, “So, you gonna target any girls this term?” Wooyoung shrugged, “I don’t know man. There’s no more fun girls anymore.” “That’s because you got them all already.” The guy with long silver hair and feminine features joked, nudging Wooyoung with his shoulder. “Now you’re just flattering me.” Wooyoung laughed.

The guy that looked like a giant puppy then said, “Isn’t there a girl in your class called Y/n?” “You mean Kang Y/n?” Wooyoung mused, “She’s a nerd in my literature class.” The silver-haired guy commented, “The girl sitting at the back of your class? She’s cute. You should try her.”

The guy with the slim nose shook his head. “She’s known for being obsessed with her studies. Her friends say she’s impossible to get to.” He sighed, “Poor Jongho wasted his money on the bouquet of flowers and got rejected. He really liked her.”

The giant puppy guy turned to Wooyoung and said, “If you can make her fall for you in a week's time, I’ll buy you new strings and a strap for your guitar.” Wooyoung straightened from his position, “Add in a new stand and I’ll do it.” The puppy guy smirked, “Done.” They shook hands and the screen turned black.

It then switched to another scene. Wooyoung and his friends appeared to be at a bench in the schoolyard, and you recalled the outfit he was wearing after sending you to class.

“So, how did you do it?” The silver-haired dude asked. Wooyoung took a sip of his soda, “The literature teacher loves to pair us according to the alphabetical order. Persuading her to meet at her house was a piece of cake. I didn’t really do anything much. ” The puppy guy chuckled, “Now you’re just flexing.”

“While you wait for your prize to come, you should be worried about how to get rid of the girl,” the slim nosed guy smirked.

Wooyoung laughed. “Real. I never liked her anyways. She was so easy to fool.” he says, taking another sip from his can before the screen pauses, marking the end of the video.

You sat still, knees pulled to your chest, phone resting loosely in your hand. The video played again—you didn’t mean to hit replay, but maybe a part of you needed to hear it twice. Needed to be sure.

His voice, once warm and familiar, felt foreign now. Sharp in ways it had never been with you.

Every word peeled something away. A layer of trust. A piece of the girl who thought she knew him. Your chest felt hollow, like someone had carved out everything good and left only silence.

You didn’t know what to think. Right now, you just felt small. Embarrassed. Like you’ve been the only one playing a role in a story you thought was real.

The signs were so obvious. The way he suddenly showed a random interest in you. You knew the teacher for 2 years. You knew that she loved to pair students by the alphabet. Not only that, but the obvious fact that he was a playboy. Your friends had warned you many times, but you had ignored them, saying that he had changed for you.

You didn’t cry right away. It wasn’t sadness at first—it was numbness. A quiet dissociation from the version of yourself that had believed in him so completely.

And somewhere underneath all that numbness, a quiet seed of anger started to grow. Not for him, not yet. But at yourself—for not seeing it sooner.

You loved him loudly, unafraid, thinking that he really changed. But in the end, it only resulted in his betrayal and your heartbreak.

Keys jingled, and the door creaked open.

“Baby! I’m back!” The sound of his voice cracked something in you. It sounded so sincere. Unlike what the video suggested.

Wooyoung appeared in front of you, giving you a soft smile and pecking your cheek. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, sitting down beside you, “the teacher couldn’t stop talking.” He picked up a piece of chocolate, taking a bite. “Where did you buy this? It tastes so good.”

When you didn't reply, he stopped. Putting the chocolate down, he reached for your hand, resting it on yours. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” he asked, face scrunched up with worry.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you pulled out your phone, found the video again, and placed it face up between you.

His smile faltered, face going pale. His hand twitched on the table. “Where.. did you get this?”

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, struggling to get the words out. “That was a long time ago. It isn’t like that anymore, y/n. I do love y- ”.

You looked at him, shifting back a little. “Do you really?” You gestured to your phone, “Because it shows that you're just playing me. Like the playboy people warned me about.”

“Y/n, please listen. It was just a stupid bet- ”

“Is that all I am to you? A stupid bet?” You questioned, tears slowly forming at the bed of your eyes.

“I should have known,” you said. Your voice broke a little on the last word, but you swallowed it down. “you would never change. You’re a liar, a player. You are a coward.”

He reached across the table, but you pulled your hands back, folding them tightly in your lap.

“I trusted you,” you whispered. “I loved you.”

“I know,” his voice shaking, “I know. It wasn’t true at first. But over time, you made me feel nothing like I’ve never felt before. I fell for you instead.” You turned away, unable to stop the tears flowing down your face.

He kneeled down before you. “Please Y/n…give me another chance. I’ll treat you better.”

He said your name like it was a prayer, like it could undo what he’d done. But prayers are for the desperate, and you weren't desperate anymore.

You stood up, wiped your tears, and gathered your things. Your movements were careful, deliberate. You didn’t rush, didn’t stumble — you refused to show that you were devastated.

You didn’t look back as you ran out the door, the cold night air hitting your face like a slap. You wrapped your arms around yourself and kept running, each step feeling impossibly heavy.

You could hear Wooyoung running after you, calling your name over and over again. But you didn’t falter, not until you reached the familiar door in front of you, pushing it open and steeping inside.

You collapsed onto the cold floor, your knees giving out as the weight of it all finally caught up to you. The silence around you felt heavy, like even the walls were holding their breath. Tears streamed down your face, hot and fast, leaving damp trails on your cheeks as you pressed your hands into the ground, trying to steady yourself against the shaking in your chest.

Your sobs were broken and uneven, small gasps of pain you couldn’t hold back anymore. It wasn’t just sadness—it was frustration, fear, loneliness all tangled together. And in that moment, sitting there with nothing but the sound of your own heartbreak, you let yourself fall apart, because you couldn’t pretend to be strong any longer.

In your head, you replayed everything—every small look, every inside joke, every moment that once made you believe you two were unbreakable. You thought about your first date, awkward and sweet, and about all the times he made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

You pressed your face into your hands, breathing in slow, shaky gulps of air, calming yourself down. You laid on the floor, curled up until sleep overtook you.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

After that night, you decided to take a break from your studies.

You spend most of your time in bed, sometimes shedding tears, rethinking your days with him. Otherwise you were just staring into your ceiling, mind empty.

You had received several texts from Wooyoung, asking about your wellbeing or saying that he was sorry, wanting to meet up and talk it out. But you ignored him, putting your phone on do not disturb.

2 weeks went by, and you decided that you were not going to fall behind on your studies just because of some stupid break up.

When you walked into class, you were greeted by some of your friends, answering questions and assuring them that you were fine.

As you were talking out your books for class, the door opened, and you heard your teacher nagging. You looked up, and your breath instantly stopped. Standing at the classroom door, Wooyoung looked up at you, eyes wide. He had cut his hair short and dyed it blonde, enhancing his facial features.

You looked down, avoiding his gaze, and started to chat with your friend. At the corner of your eye, you could see him bowing to the teacher, walking towards his seat. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before sitting down.

You could constantly feel his eyes on you during the lesson, but you ignored him, acting like you have never talked to him before.

When the class ended, you didn’t bother to rush out of class. Packing your bag slowly, you could feel Wooyoung deciding to approach you. But after a few seconds, he turned away, following his friends out of the classroom. You breathed a sigh of relief, slinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way out.

You entered the schoolyard, a drink in your hand, and sat down on a bench.

And you realised you finally had an answer to your question.

Does love ever last?

No, it doesn’t.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2025

[sturnsblogs]

MITTENS

Nerd!Chris X Mean!Girl!Reader

—

Chris was a HUGE cat lover—every time he saw a cat he flipped out. And well… guess who had a cat? You.

Today you were packing for a three-day weekend to go visit your parents. Of course, Chris was coming too. Your parents really liked him, although they hadn’t seen him since like 2023, back when you and Chris were still in high school. He was going to see them—and your cat—again. He was way too excited. Like bouncing-on-the-bed excited.

“Mittens is gonna remember me,” he said confidently, tossing a pair of socks into his bag like he was packing for the Emmys. “She’s literally gonna sprint to me the second we walk in.”

You snorted from across the room, holding up your travel bag. “Chris, she’s a cat. She’s gonna hiss and hide under the couch.”

“She loved me.”

“She tolerated you.”

Chris spun around dramatically. “You just don’t get us.”

You rolled your eyes, zipping up the last of your toiletries. “Do you have your toothbrush?”

He blinked. “…You didn’t pack one for me?”

“Christopher.”

“What?! I thought you were packing for both of us!”

“Why would I—? You’re a grown man!”

“I got distracted!”

“By what?!”

He grinned, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “The thought of Mittens’ little pink toe beans.”

You covered your face with your hands. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“Okay, but you love it.”

“No, I tolerate it. Like Mittens.”

“Wow. Okay. Betrayal from both my girls.”

You tried to hide your smile as you tossed a spare toothbrush in his direction. “You’re lucky I did pack an extra.”

Chris caught it with a triumphant grin. “See? That’s why we work. You handle the essentials, I bring the vibes.”

“And the chaos.”

He leaned back on the bed and sighed dramatically. “This is gonna be the best weekend ever.”

“You say that now… wait until my dad makes you help him clean the grill.”

Chris sat up instantly, wide-eyed. “I’m suddenly remembering a dentist appointment.”

You smirked. “Too late. Mittens is waiting.”

He groaned, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I hope she remembers my face. I hope she still loves me.”

“She’s a cat, Chris.”

He held a hand to his chest. “She’s my soulmate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Good. Then you can share a bed with her.”

“Perfect. As long as you’re on the other side.”

You threw a hoodie at his face. “Pack. Now.”

The car ride was only supposed to be a little over two hours, but you were already questioning your life choices twenty minutes in.

Chris hadn’t shut up about Mittens once.

“I just know she’s gonna hear the door and come sprinting down the hallway,” he said, practically bouncing in his seat, turned halfway toward you. “Like she’s gonna skid across the hardwood floor and everything. Like paws slipping and sliding type of running.”

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “She’s probably gonna hiss and run away.”

Chris gasped like you slapped him. “You take that back.”

“I’m serious,” you said, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel. “She’s dramatic. Like someone else I know.”

Chris leaned closer. “No. She loves me. I’m like… her favorite uncle. She probably thinks about me every day.”

You let out a loud sigh, already feeling a headache coming on. “Chris, she doesn’t even think about me every day and I’m her owner.”

“But we had a bond,” he whined, like a little kid. “I scratched her behind the ears exactly how she likes it. I even gave her that little fish toy! You think she forgot?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you leaned forward and cranked the volume of the music all the way up, drowning him out instantly.

Chris gave you a betrayed look, mouthing dramatically: RUDE! before crossing his arms and dramatically sulking in the passenger seat.

He even tilted his head against the window like he was in a sad music video.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

After a second, you reached over and patted his knee without looking.

Still, you heard him mutter under the music: “Mittens would never treat me like this…”

You rolled your eyes and turned the music up even louder.

You finally pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching over the gravel as you threw the car into park. Chris practically ripped his seatbelt off, vibrating with excitement. You barely had time to open your door before he was already halfway up the front porch steps, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder.

“Chris!” you called, grabbing your own bag and slamming the car door. “Could you at least pretend you’re excited to see my parents first and not just the cat?”

He grinned over his shoulder. “I’m multitasking, babe!”

The front door swung open before either of you could even knock, and there stood your mom, arms spread wide and already tearing up.

“Oh my gosh,” she gushed, pulling you into a huge hug immediately. “You’ve gotten so big, sweetheart. Let me look at you!” She held you out at arm’s length and beamed. “Prettier every time I see you.”

You laughed a little, cheeks burning, but before you could say anything, your younger siblings barreled through the door, squealing.

“CHRIS!” your little brother shouted, practically launching himself at Chris.

Chris stumbled back a step with a big laugh, catching him easily and ruffling his hair. “What’s up, dude!”

Your younger sister wasn’t far behind, clinging onto Chris’s arm like he was some superhero. “I missed you so much!” she whined.

Chris bent down to hug both of them at once, his face lighting up in a way that made your chest ache a little. You forgot how much your family adored him — it wasn’t just you who missed him when he left for college.

Your dad came into view next, shaking Chris’s hand and clapping him on the back warmly. “Glad you could make it, son. House hasn’t been the same without you eating all our snacks.”

Chris grinned sheepishly. “Gotta keep the tradition alive, Mr. Y/L/N.”

You just stood there watching, warmth blooming deep in your chest.

And from somewhere in the house, a loud meow echoed down the hall.

Chris’s eyes lit up immediately. “MITTENS!” he gasped, shoving your backpack into your arms and sprinting inside.

You groaned loudly, following behind him with a muttered, “traitor.”

You trudged upstairs behind Chris, still lugging both of your backpacks since he had totally abandoned you in favor of your cat.

When you made it into your old bedroom, you found him already sprawled out on your bed, Mittens cradled lovingly against his chest like a literal baby. He was scratching under her chin, whispering sweet little nothings to her like she was the love of his life.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he cooed softly, rubbing behind her ears. Mittens purred so loudly you could hear it from the doorway. “I missed you so much, didn’t I?”

You stood there for a second, arms crossed, just watching.

And waiting.

And… waiting.

Chris didn’t even notice you. His entire world was currently a fluffy gray ball of fur.

You cleared your throat loudly.

Nothing.

You dropped your backpack onto the floor dramatically.

Still nothing.

He was now pressing tiny kisses to the top of Mittens’ head, whispering, “You’re the cutest thing in the whole world. I love you so much, Mitty.”

Your eye twitched.

“Hey, Chris,” you said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Remember me? Your girlfriend?”

He blinked up at you, completely oblivious. “Huh? Oh—yeah, babe, I know. I love you too,” he said distractedly, before going right back to baby-talking your cat.

You stood there fuming.

You crossed your arms tighter.

You tapped your foot against the floor.

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Finally, you snapped. “You know what? Maybe Mittens should pack your lunches and kiss you goodnight too!” you huffed, flopping dramatically onto the other side of the bed, turning away from him.

Chris’s head shot up at the sudden poutiness in your voice. He looked between you and Mittens, suddenly realizing how much he’d been ignoring you.

He bit his lip to hide a smile. “Are you… jealous of Mittens right now?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

You didn’t answer, only huffed and scooted further away.

Chris gently placed Mittens on a little blanket at the foot of the bed and immediately crawled over to you, pressing himself against your back. “Baby,” he whined, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “You’re my favorite girl, you know that.”

You stayed silent, pretending to be mad even as your heart fluttered.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world,” he mumbled against your skin, kissing just behind your ear. “I love you so much more than I love Mittens. I swear.”

“You didn’t look like it,” you muttered under your breath.

Chris chuckled and hugged you even tighter. “Mittens doesn’t kiss me like you do,” he whispered teasingly. “Mittens doesn’t smell like strawberries either.” He kissed along your jawline softly, trying to coax a smile out of you.

You finally turned around to face him, still pouting a little.

“Forgive me?” he asked sweetly, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll let you have the first cuddle spot tonight.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled despite yourself. “Fine. But if you even look at Mittens before you look at me again, we’re breaking up.”

Chris laughed and leaned in to kiss you softly. “Deal, princess.”

—

A/N- FINALLY I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING FOR THEM.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[writing-mlm]

saw u write for the pitt,,, anything w/ frank langdon i beg hes too pretty

Did they bet on this

Summary: Dr. Langdon and Dr. (L/n)’s favorite residents are oddly familiar, but that couldn’t mean anything. Right? Pairing: Frank Langdon x Male Reader Word count: 3.5k Tags/Warning: post-Pittfest, minor mentions of Frank’s addition, canon level medical discussions, implied autistic!reader, reader wears glasses, father/daughter jokes about Langdon/Santos and reader/Mel, corny jokes, ‘I need him’ jokes A/n: I’m surprised i’ve gotten tame Pitt request, would’ve thought people wanted abbott/robby eiffel tower LOLLL

Dr. Frank Langdon has two secrets, although the first secret certainly has sub-sections. 

Secret one. 

He wasn’t on medical leave or at some administrative level following him being extremely rude to Santos, like the others suspect. He was in rehab. And now he gets pulled to the side not to get consults but for random urine testing. And he’s stopped going out for drinks, not because he’s more aware of his liver but because it happens to fall on his N.A. meetings.

Secret two. 

He’s been divorced for a while now. Long before his issue with drugs had come to light and he was sent to rehab. It’s been, officially, three months, but it’s been a year and three months. Pittsburgh has a mandatory one-year separation law, and he spent that year trying to win his wife back. But… it clearly didn’t work. He sees his kids every other weekend, the judge said he should consider himself lucky. Between his hectic hours and the recorded drug abuse, he was going to lose his rights altogether. 

But he’s clean now. He’s been clean since the day after PittFest. Each of his random tests comes back negative. He doesn’t even take Tylenol or ibuprofen anymore. 

Okay, he lied a bit back there. 

It’s not two secrets, it’s three. 

Secret three. 

He’s bisexual. And he has a crush on his fellow resident— although that resident has finished his final year while Frank was in rehab and is now in a flexible fellowship. Two days in the OR followed by two days in the Pitt. That is totally not the point. 

“Hey, Don,” You call, slapping his shoulder on your way to the locker room. He flinches, his jaw tightening at the sudden contact before he relaxes. It’s just you. Just the man he had been thinking about. “Missed me?”

“Like I miss high school,” He gives a sarcastic smile, and you huff a laugh, pushing into the locker room. His eyes shift to the floor, there are two patients so far— one is waiting to have their tox screens, and another is being treated for a 30/70 burn. Neither of which he wants to handle. “McKay, any new patients?” Langdon asks, holding onto the counter and stretching, his head down to ease the tension in his body. 

“Not yet,” She shakes her head, pulling her lips into her mouth. She grabs the clipboard and flips through it. “About to call in Emily Cotton, bitten by her chihuahua. Want that?” Something good, that’s all he wants. 

“No, give it to Mohan.” 

“Alright.” 

“I think Dr. Langdon has it,” Robby steps into his line of view, arms crossed. He doesn’t look at Langdon, his eyes only on McKay. “Don’t you, Langdon?” 

“Yes,” He grits, ever so slightly shaking his head. “Yup, send her to me. I’ll be in 5,” McKay looks between the two of them but nods, sending Mateo to call Ms. Cotton into the ED. You’re leaving the locker room as Langdon walks by, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands, and his ears are a little red. 

“You alright?” You whisper, changing directions and following him into the room. 

“I’m fine,” He lies, lips pressed into a thin line. “Can you turn the light all the way on?” Someone had dimmed them earlier, something about a patient seeing white spots in their vision. Not exactly great for inspecting small dog-inflicted wounds. 

“Yup,” Stepping back, you flick the lights on and look Langdon over. He's upset, he usually is when Robby assigns him a case. They are always cases that Robby hates, boring— mundane cases that come and go a million times a day in the ED. “Anything else?”

“Uh, no.” He shakes his head as he turns to you. “Unless you want to take over?” Crossing your arms, you rock back and forth before shaking your head. 

“My favorite resident could use the experience,” You tease. 

“Excuse me?” He laughs, standing up from the small rolling stool. He crosses the room over to you, and you raise your eyebrows. “We were residents together.”

“That’s how the cookie crumbles,” You drag out. “God, that was corny.” Pinching your nose, you close your eyes and try to take back the past five seconds. 

“It was,” He agrees through a small laugh. “Your age is showing, Chip.” He whispers, trying desperately not to let his eyes wander. To not falter and give in to the urge to be closer to you. Closer than normal for a pair of colleagues— friends. 

“We’re the same age,” The door opens, and the professionalism slips onto the two of you. 

“Emily Cotton?” Langdon asks, and she nods, looking back at Whitaker, who’d walked to the room. “Have a seat, please. I’m Doctor Langdon, and I’ll be your doctor today.” Nodding, you leave the room without a word, softly closing the door behind you. 

“Anything for me?” You ask Dana, ever thankful that she hadn’t actually quit. She did take a needed vacation, though. It cleared her head and allowed her the space to reflect on the job. 

“We just got a call; a teenage girl accidentally shot herself in the stomach. They’re about two minutes out.” She relays, and you have to stop yourself from showing if you are excited or annoyed. 

“Alright, I’ll need Dr. King, Collins, Perlah, and Silva.”

“Wait, no!” Langdon calls, his head peering out of the room. “King is mine.” His eyes dart between you and his favorite resident. 

“Too bad, Don,” You call. “Take your twin, Santos.” Santos looks up from her current patient, someone who’s about to leave. Meanwhile, Langdon drops his head, his free fist balling for a second. He reaches out to you, but you ignore him. 

“Ha-ha, gimmie King,” With two fingers, he motions for Mel to head to him. She looks between the two of you, and you give her an apologetic look. 

“Don, Donnie, Ding-dong— you can go one hour without Mel. Scrub in, Dr. King. You can go back to Dr. Langdon after this surgery.” Pointing to the operating room, she gives four strong nods and rushes past with her head down. 

“You’re cruel,” He says before you can walk by. “Santos,” He whispers, looking at her over your shoulder. She quickly looks away before they can make eye contact. 

“You guys are the same person, just she’s younger and a woman.” You whisper back, your head close to his ear. “And it’s for like five minutes. You got this,” 

If Langdon is allowed to be honest, he didn’t hear a single word you’d said. He just blindly nods, watching as you pull away from him to help get the room prepped. He takes one last look out, watching as the girl is wheeled into the ED before he resigns himself to his task.

“Dr. Santos, come on!” 

— 

For reasons you will not divulge to anyone other than people you do not work with, Santos is your unofficial mentee. Robby has Mohan and Whitaker, Langdon has Mel, McKay has Javadi, and so on. It’s just how things had naturally clicked into place after the first couple of days of them working at PTMC. 

There’s usually some teachable moment with the manatees to their mentors. Whitaker allows Robby to relax, Mel shows Langdon his way isn’t always the right way- that he can be wrong, and Santos helps you in other ways. 

“He did mention you,” She spills as soon as the two of you enter a room. You’re waiting on a patient, not using an empty room to gossip. That would be ridiculous and unprofessional. “Three times.”

“Was it good?” You squint. “Was it about me taking Mel?”

“Once,” She nods. “The first time. The second time he said you should've called him into the OR, and the third time he asked me about my opinion of you.”

“And what did you say?” You squint harder, leaning back on the wall. She shrugs, putting her hands into her pockets. 

“You’re cool, you buy me lunch sometimes— I didn’t mention that you use me to get information on him when you’re gone.” The door opens, and Princess hands you the new patient's chart. The conversation is effectively over as you introduce yourself and Santos to the patient with…

“And how did you put a tube of Christmas ornaments up your rectum?” You ask, and Santos makes a face behind his back. The man grumbles as he tries to find a comfortable position, refusing to take a seat. 

“I fell on it,” He answers quite stiffly. “My wife wanted me to take them down, and when I was climbing down the attic ladder, I slipped.” Raising your eyebrow, he looks away and down at the bedsheet. It’s going to be one of those, then. 

“Alright, Mr. Franco. I’m going to ask you to take your bottoms off and then put your feet into the holders while we step out. Okay? The blanket is for your privacy.” He grunts a nod and you close the curtain as Santos wastes no time walking out of the room. 

“How did he look when he mentioned me?” You whisper, your back pressed to the door, while she has to mentally prepare herself for her first object removal. 

“He looked how he normally does, I guess,” She shrugs. “Do we need a local anesthetic?”

“Maybe,” Scratching your forehead, you think about what you’re going to need. You’ve done enough removals during your time as a doctor that you’re basically a pro at this. She lists the items and goes to retrieve them while you work on finding Langdon for a quick moment. 

“Wanna switch?” You ask, holding him by the crook of his elbow. He looks at you, eyebrows raised. “I take your child with a broken ankle, and you take my rectum removal.” The offer is horrible, you know that and, more importantly, he knows that. 

“You’re funny,” He laughs. “Good luck, Chip.” He pats your shoulder and enters his room. Groaning, you go back to your room and knock on the door. 

—

You need him. You need him carnally. You need him biblically. You need him in ways that are sacrilegious. You need to jump Frank Langdon’s bones. 

Splashing your face with water, you try to compose yourself. You just finished up another emergency surgery— a woman fell from her fifth-story window, her femur was completely out of the skin, her elbow was twisted in gnarly ways, the works. It was the usual crew in the operating room, plus you and Langdon. 

It was technically his; he had called dibs on surgery while you were finishing up with the ornaments guy, and he asked you to join. He just had this look on this stupid face, and you couldn’t say no. Not that you ever could to him. 

But— and HIPAA forgive you— but the way he looked, stitching that woman back up was… something. You won’t say what, in fear of coming off as too crass. But it was life-changing. Pants were changed and not just because they got blood on them. 

“You okay?” The man of the hour asks, pushing into the bathroom. 

“Yeah,” You breathe out, having drowned yourself for a little there. “Totally, ‘m fine.” He’s not totally convinced, every doctor in the Pitt knows that when there’s water splashed on a face, something is definitely not fine. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking you up and down. He licks his lips, just a little so that his tongue pokes out from between them as his eyes trail up your body. 

“Just a little in my head,” His eyes land on your face by the time you look at him. 

“King has these grounding exercises,” He starts and you smile, looking down at the wet sink. 

“I know, we go over them together sometimes.” He stops, making an oh face. 

“So, you and Dr. King are…close?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet. “You talk often?” Shaking your head as you grab some tissue, you press your back against the marble countertop. 

“We talk in passing, usually when we need a break. We both decompress on the same staircase, funnily enough.” There’s a small laugh in your tone and Langdon nods. 

“Yeah, she-she mentioned you that a couple of times.” Before you could respond, there were two sharp bangs on the door. Robby. 

“Langdon, your patient is coding. (L/n) your patient's parents are here.” He huffs and leaves in a hurry while you make the short walk to room 13 longer than it needed to be. The parents are completely disagreeing with the treatment of their daughter. The mother is for the treatment, while the father thinks the vaccines and medications are going to lead to autism or gayness in the future. 

“Fucking Qanon’s man,” You grumble before plastering a pleasant look on your face as you enter the room. 

—

“Oh, I get it,” Abbott whispers as he, Dana, and Robby lean against the workstations. They have a clear view of two of the on-call rooms. One with Langdon and King, and the other with you and Santos. 

“Get what?” Robby looks up, his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He follows Abbott's line of view and rolls his eyes. “Oh, those four. Yeah,”

“Surprised it took you this long,” Dana snickers, flipping through some paperwork. “Like father, like daughter,” She looks up, catching how you and Mel both make the same head motion as the patient says something undoubtedly stupid. And then, at the same time, Langdon and Santos look away to give an exasperated look. 

“It’s freaky,” Abbott leans forward, his chin on his fist. “Do they know?”

“Not a damn clue,” Robby responds. They watch for a little while, and there’s one breakthrough with each of your patients. You and Langdon nod and leave the room. You and Mel walk out first, fixing your glasses out of stress rather than necessity, and then Langdon and Santos walk out, both of them slapping the top of the doorframe. 

“Freaky as fuck,” Abbott has to hold back a laugh. “Oh my god, like father, like daughter.” He agrees. 

“I’m telling ya,” Robby shakes his head, waving at the four of you as you walk by. “They didn’t even do it on purpose.” He adds in a hushed tone. 

“It’s like they don’t know it’s legal yet,” Mohan comments as she walks up behind the group. They turn to her, and she holds her hands up before walking away. 

Langdon parks himself at a separate workstation, watching as you do the same with Santos across the floor. 

“They’re doing this on purpose,” Abbott shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

“Switch to the morning shift,” Robby offers. “You’ll see,” 

“It’s entertaining,” Dana agrees before she smirks. “Want in on the betting pool?”

“There’s a betting pool?” His eyes seem to sparkle with glee and mischief at the idea. 

“I already lost,” Robby leans back in his seat, running his hands down his face. “I gave them six months. It’s been two and a half years.” 

“I predicted a drunk confession,” Dana frowns. That can’t happen anymore, considering Langdon can’t touch any drug or alcohol until he’s off his probation. 

“I think King is going to tell (Y/n) or Santos is going to slip up and tell Langdon.”

“That’s already a bet, believe it or not,” Abbott claps his hands together as if that was proving his point. 

“Alright, guys, I’m off! See you!” You call, and their head snaps to the locker room entrance. As you’re walking out, you’re relief is right behind you, ready to start their shift. 

“Right, night shift time,” Langdon mutters, pushing off from the workstation. “Wait for me?” He’s not begging— he doesn’t beg, but he is gently asking as another relief enters the ED. 

“Sure,” You nod, messing with the straps of your bag. He thanks you and rushes to gather his stuff as Abbott quietly sighs. There goes his entertainment for the night. He wonders if he could get access to the parking lot cameras. 

“Okay,” You inhale the cold air as the two of you head towards the employee parking lot. “Don’t laugh—“

“I won’t,” He promises without hesitation.

“One of my patients made a joke that I didn’t understand. It was something like; Doctors always have band-aids. They’re wonderful.” He’s heard that one a handful of times and shakes his head, glancing up at the sky. 

“Wound-erfurl,” He corrects with a small smile while you squint. 

“Oh,” You groan as it clicks. “Wound. Fuck, I should’ve gotten that.” For a moment, just a singular moment, Langdon watches as you hide your smile behind your hand. You look almost annoyed with yourself, but you’re mostly embarrassed that you hadn’t gotten the joke. And had this been anyone else (save Mel, Robby, Abbott, Dana, or Gloria) he would’ve made fun of them in some way. 

“It’s a hard one,” He agrees through a simple shrug. 

—

“What do you see in him?” Santos asks as she hangs onto her stethoscope, watching as Langdon gets blood sprayed on his face. Rogue vein, apparently. 

“He’s pretty,” You grin. She scoffs and looks away, turning towards the TV, hoping there would be a case soon enough. There are a million people waiting, so why doesn’t she have a patient already?

“You’re not supposed to be down here,” Robby notes as he walks past you. He’s checking someone’s chart and he hasn’t looked up once, how he knew you were there is beyond yourself. 

“I’m on my lunch break,” You reply, holding up the empty apple juice carton as proof. Although he’s still not looking at you and you’re not looking at him. You’re watching as Langdon leaves the on-call room, his face has a clear expression of disgust on it. 

“I’ll get some new scrubs,” The offer makes his shoulders relax, and he looks at you, his expression softening. 

“Thank you,” While he heads to the bathroom, you head to the scrub exchange before remembering. Exchange. Walking into the bathroom, Langdon looks up from the sink, bloody water dripping from his face. 

“I need your old scrubs first,” You tell him and he grunts, he’d also forgotten that small detail. 

“Fuck, right, yeah.” He nods and scrubs his hands before grabbing the collar of his scrubs. He pulls it off in one motion, the grey short-sleeved shirt rising a little with the motion. Against your better judgment and perhaps morals, your eyes can’t help but wander to the exposed skin. Feeling like a Victorian child because you’ve never seen Langdon showing that much skin. 

‘That’ being below the naval, but above the V line. Barely three inches of skin and it’s like your brain shuts off. He neatly folds the blood-stained shirt and then looks at you, his thumbs under his waistbands. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks, to which you shake your head. 

“We’re doctors,” You mutter as he lowers his pants. “I’ve seen worse than a man in his boxers.” You continue. 

“Worse!” He shouts a laugh. “I-I like to think I look good in them, thank you very much.” He kicks the scrubs off and you look at him through the mirror. He’s looking at you already and you remember he’d been talking. 

“You do,” You reach to take the folded scrubs. “Your wife sure is lucky.” Cringing, you head out of the bathroom and to the scrub exchange. You know his employee ID and he knows yours, the two of you have worked nearly every patient together and run to get the others scrubs over a hundred times before. 

“You look strange,” Santos squints as you type in his PIN. Huffing, you shake your head before looking at her. 

“I don’t want to even think about it, Santos. Do you have any patients waiting?” 

“Uh, yes. Room nine. Twenty-one year twenty-one-year-old man with signs of testicular t. He also has mild asthma, and the caregiver is adamant that the man is faking.” Blinking, you nod and start your way back to the bathroom. 

“Alright, good luck with that one.. Start working on him, get McKay if you need an extra pair of eyes while you wait.” She nods and heads to the on-call room. 

“I’m back!” You call, pushing the bathroom door open with your shoulder. 

“I’m divorced.” Langdon says as soon as you do. You blink, handing him the fresh pair of scrubs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” God, you have horrible timing today. 

“Don’t be,” He shakes his head before scratching his eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out and thanks, for the scrubs.” 

“Anytime. Do you need anything else?” Checking your watch you have five minutes left on your break. 

“No, nope. I’m good.” You start to turn around when he calls your name. Pausing, you look at him and he presses his closed fist to his mouth. “Do you have plans after this?” He strains out and you smile, shaking your head. 

“I’m free unless I get called into an emergency surgery. I'm not reading this wrong, right?” You trail off, looking between his eyes. 

“Oh, I’m asking you on a date,” He nods and you promptly nod back. 

“Dr. Langdon, your patient is requesting an enema!” Whitaker says as he peers into the bathroom. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

“Scrub contamination,” You shake your head, slowly looking at Whitaker. “Good luck with your enema, Frank.”

[inkytoru]

gojo satoru stood in the middle of the arts and crafts aisle of the store, deep in thought, much like a child agonizing over what color to use in their masterpiece.

he held up two crayon boxes from different brands. but neither seemed to have the particular shade of blue he was seeking.

“may i help you, sir?” comes a polite and genial voice somewhere to his left. satoru looks down at the employee approaching him as he suppresses the tears that begin to sting at the back of his eyes.

the day gojo satoru met you was in kindergarten. you were quiet. shy. always trying to make yourself smaller.

and your big eyes would water with cries of “satoru stop!” every time he’d tug on one of your pigtails. all the other kids like him that came from higher-income families would laugh, poking fun at you for the hand-me-downs you’d wear, and for the way you were such a sensitive soul, crying over damn near every little thing.

“crybaby, crybaby, crybaby!” they would tease, satoru amongst them. but when another boy—who satoru can’t be assed to remember the name of anymore—tried to become your bully and take you away from him? he’d felt something he had never felt before: possession in its early, immature stages.

he didn’t like the way this snot-nosed kid would poke and prod at what was his; he’d clench his small fists and glare as hard as a kidnergartner could at who he was convinced was his first true enemy in life.

satoru learns how to vindictively use his jujutsu at the age of six. little would anyone know that the way the bully would have a basketball conveniently hurling at his head was not by chance, or the way his shoelaces would mysteriously be untied was of satoru’s doing. no one would believe this ghost of his that he swears followed him around and haunted him.

one day, at the end of recess while all the other children had filed inside, you were crossing the elementary school’s playground with your battered but beloved toy plush in hand. unbeknown to you, your bully lied in wait around the corner, only darting out to trip you before taking your most prized possession. from afar, satoru seethed to himself— the nerve this dummy had!

with his narrowed six eyes, he forced the kid to take a stumble to the asphalt himself, an even harder fall than the one he gave you. he’d burst into wails and fat tears that would attract the teacher, but while the fuss was on him, satoru discreetly flings your toy back to you with his technique. afterwards, he was going to head in himself until he freezes in place, feeling your curious eyes on him.

“you did that, didn’t you?” you half-whisper in awe.

satoru shrugs, feigning innocence.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

for the first time ever, you give him a toothy smile that he swears makes his heartbeat skip.

you give him a smile before running back inside. he stands there, staring after you.

the next day, you bashfully come up to him, and he could tell it was no easy feat. you averted his cerulean gaze as you handed him a crumpled piece of paper, mumbled something about the color of his eyes, and then scampered away. satoru looks down at it.

drawn on the paper were what looked like the both of you holding hands with wide drawn smiles on your faces. he took notice of how it was entirely and crudely drawn in striking blue crayon— a hue much similar to that of satoru’s eyes.

he could feel his heart swell at the crooked letters he could just about make out on the back that read:

“thank you toru!”

you’d warm up more and more, little by little to him in the coming days; but every time you brought up his good deed, he’d shake his head and continued denying any involvement. but you knew better.

by high school, you had both become the best of friends. satoru never really grew out of the crush had on you, and if you had any feelings for him back, you never showed it. but that was okay with satoru, because you two had come from different worlds— and he never wanted to drag you into his.

summer of your last year together in high school comes, and you finally reveal to him that you’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

satoru could feel his heart shatter and his world begin to crumble when you tell him.

he could never forgive the way you had hid this secret from him for years, nor the way your hospital trips and doctor visits would become more frequent in the following year, the last year he’d spend with you.

“thank you ‘toru… for all these years,” were your last words to him.

humanity’s strongest trembles as he holds that same crinkled, now time-worn paper in his hands. he quickly wipes the tears that spring forth from his eyes before they could splatter onto the scribbled lines and memory you had left him with.

he wishes he could’ve treated you better. he wished he could’ve been strong enough to confess. he wishes that being the honored one meant he could’ve saved you from something even he couldn’t have prevented.

satoru picks out the closest blue shade he had found to the one you used to draw you both. with shaky hands, he draws a halo and a pair of angel wings around your figure. a sob lodges itself in the back of his throat, somewhere between the what-if’s and should’ve’s.

it was a little far in color, and that reminded him of how far you were now, in a distant world where curses didn’t exist.

where gojo satoru didn’t exist.

[azulpitlane]

epilogue l fc43

epilogue for we can't be friends💘: in which you are coparenting with franco while he's still trying everything to prove his love for you

part one, part two

🔒yourusername

liked by francolapinto, alexpriv and 286 others

yourusername so in loveee

view all comments

user bring her to argentina already i wanna meet her😩

user too cute

francolapinto amazing, gorgeous, perfect😍 oh and lucia is there too

alexpriv ?!?!?! is this your version of your compliment

yourusername thank you for insulting our daughter

alexpriv get his ass

francolapinto WAIT NO THAT CAME OUT WRONG ARGGHHH

alexpriv so nice and peaceful like why would a man be there

francolapinto 😐

francolapinto

liked by alexpriv, lando and 1,639,027 others

view all comments

user no caption or anything like okay!

user idk why this being posted with no context is sending me

user OMG A Y/N SIGHTING

user i thought y/n went public for a second

alexpriv mine

francolapinto 😡

user how does she look so good postpartum omg

yourusername ?

francolapinto you just looked beautiful here

user awww this is actually soo cute (whens it gonna be my turn😔)

user franco's loverboy era, thought id never see the day

user does bro know the qatar grand prix is in less than a week

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yourusername posted a story

193 views

alexpriv WE MUST STAY FOCUSED BROTHERS WE MUST STAY FOCUSED

alexpriv REMEMBER ALL THE EVIL CRIMES HE COMMITTED

yourusername 😭😭😭

yourusername am i stupid to think hes actually sorry?

alexpriv you’re not stupid. you just have a really really really soft heart. especially for him🤢

yourusername i hate it here

alexpriv ill be honest and give him SOME credit (even though its physically hurting me) but i do think hes sorry too. that doesnt mean you have to forgive if you dont want to though

yourusername yeah i told him i cant promise anything just yet

alexpriv good. hes gotta earn it

yourusername then he proceeded to invite me to the abu dhabi gp😭

alexpriv um what

yourusername he said i deserved a small break and offered to fly me out, have someone watch lucia, and just let me relax. like we used to.

alexpriv ugh. thats actually really thoughtful. i hate thats hes being a decent human rn

yourusername same

alexpriv my first instinct was to tell you not to go. but if you do go…

alexpriv does that mean lucia will be mine for a whole weekend😍😍😍

yourusername obviously. who else?

alexpriv then that sounds like an amazing idea!

yourusername fake loyalty.

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francolapinto

liked by yourusername and 930,529 others

francolapinto p3. nice way to end the season🏆

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user don't ever get rid of y/n😭 she's your lucky charm liked by author

user bro knew he had to show out in front of his girl

user was this masterclass fueled by y/n's presence be honest

user love how all these comments are about y/n

user you guys are so cute, im following you home🤣

user do you guys need a nanny, i volunteer

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yourusername posted a story

382 views

alexpriv this looks like a date night outfit...

yourusername shut up😭 other people will be there

alexpriv whatever you sayyy

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🔒yourusername

liked by francolapinto and 238 others

yourusername chat i folded😔

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user I KNEW IT

user i honestly could tell since high school this was how it was gonna end

alexpriv NOOOOOOO

alexpriv i knew something was off when you came back home

yourusername i was gonna tell you i swear

alexpriv i feel like i just got shot

yourusername 😭

francolapinto mine forever hehehe liked by author

alexpriv girl whatever

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francolapinto

liked by yourusername, lando, and 1,392,329 others

francolapinto my favorite girls

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user arghaghfgh someone tell baby y/n and franco that they now have a baby of their own

user WAIT HE FINALLY CONFIRMED THE BABYS GENDER AWW

user future f1 academy champion lets gooo

user i love it when hot people date

yourusername you wanna do your favorite girl a favor and change your other favorite girl's diaper?😊

francolapinto fine...

user LMFAOO i love y/n

user my parasocial relationship with these two is getting out of hand cause why did i tear up of the thought of them raising a baby together

user the way it was suppose to end🥹 so cute

-

[slmcclsgirl]

"My Darling Girl" -Part Two! stalker! Charlie slimecicle x f! reader

TW// kidnapping, drugging, smut, fingering, horror, stockholm syndrome, Charlie has mood swings.. DDDNE

uh hi yeah this isn't as good as I wanted it to be. most likely this will end here?

im sorry if this wasn't as good as y'all hoped. I lost motivation for it midway through, so I apologize if it's not what you would have liked for this. I didn't proofread it either so- yeah.

Hi sweetheart, good morning, if you don't want to know what your pretty insides look like, go to these coordinates, midnight. Bring only yourself. I’ll know if you have anything with you.’ Was the text you woke up to that morning.

Charlie watched you on the hidden camera, the tears streaming down your pretty face. He knew it wouldn't be easy for you to cope with how your new life would be. “Don't cry my darling girl.. It’ll be clear to you soon..” he said out loud, comforting you through a screen. 

He watched you all day. Shakily going to your classes, telling your friends at school that you loved them, hugging them extra tight. Charlie almost felt sad that you had to say goodbye, but he knew it was for your benefit. He already had a plan for what to do when you missed them. He had made fake “leak” texts, shit talking you behind your back. Your naive ass would believe it too.. He went down to the basement, where you’d be staying the rest of your life. He made sure every nook and cranny was spotless.. The bathroom had all your favorite products. He put in a whole effort to keep you happy. That's all he really wanted, after all. He triple checked his new cameras down in the basement, and made sure it looked absolutely perfect. He grabbed two syringes of sedative, and got in his car, ready to finally go get you. .. You watched the clock. You didn't want to do this, but what other choice did you have? If it was a harmless prank, nothing would come of it, but the bone chilling feeling of being watched ate at you alive. The survival instincts in you told you to run away, leave the state, and never come back.. But you knew that wasn't an option. You thought about your friends.. Family, even though they could suck sometimes.. You still cared for them. You’d go to hell and back to protect them, even if they wronged you. You searched up the coordinates in your phone, and they led about a half a mile into the woods behind where you lived. You grabbed a pocket knife, slipping it into your long sleeve. There’s no way this person could have seen that.. Right?

Wrong.  You heard your phone ding.

‘You're smart my darling girl, leave the pocketknife on the table.’ Your hands shook out of fear, sliding the pocketknife out of your sleeve.

Another painful ding.

‘That's it, good girl’ You shivered, and left the knife on the table. It would take you a good 10-15 minutes to walk to the coordinates. You grabbed a jacket, and a flashlight, as it was only the moon that would guide you out there. Slipping the jacket on, you tried to control yourself, remembering you knew how to defend yourself with a punch, kicks.. All that. You slipped out the back door, feeling the cold air along your face, you turned on your flashlight. Despite your mind screaming at you not to do this.. Your legs moved, frantically shining the flashlight everywhere, looking for anything or anyone. About five minutes in, you heard a branch snap. You screamed and your blood ran cold. Slowly panning the light over, all you saw was a deer. “Keep it together, now.” you said to yourself, watching the deer run off. .. Charlie was hiding behind a tree, waiting for his moment to start his little introduction.. He heard the rustle of leaves, just around 12. You saw that you were at the coordinates he sent. The clock was exactly midnight, just as the anonymous number asked. “Well, well, well,” Charlie said, still behind a tree. He could see the movement of your flashlight, going every which way. “Who’s there! I’ll- fight you!” you said, letting your adrenaline take over. “Fight me? Baby, you wouldn't hurt a hair on anyone’s head, let alone me.” he said, laughing slowly. “Let me tell you a story. April 26th, 2022. Three years ago, today.” He started. You felt your thoughts screaming at you to run, but your body betrayed you. “You accidentally stumbled into me at the coffee place over on main” he said, smiling, remembering the moment he made eye contact with you. “You were in such a rush, weren't you?” he asked, and you didn't dare say anything back. “I looked into those pretty eyes, and knew you would be my wife one day.” he said, now looking at her. “You look awfully pretty when you're scared, my darling girl.” You heard a branch break, and you immediately took off. The interaction from all that time ago played in your head. You were 18, and needed to pick me up

coffee to get to work. You remembered what he looked like.. The crazed look.. That had stuck with you. “Running already? That's no fun!” he shouted, immediately following you. He had his sedative at the ready. He closed in on you and you could feel him behind you. “Please- don't hurt me please-” you said, in a broken.. Pleading tone. He could hear your tears, and he felt himself get hard. He pushed aside his thoughts, as he grabbed you by the neck from behind. “HELP!” you screamed for dear life. “The only one who can help you is me, my darling girl, shh, go to sleep baby, it’ll all be over soon” he said, kissing your temple, as he uncapped the needle with his fingers, and stuck it into your neck, carefully. It stung, as you felt it enter your bloodstream. You sobbed, fighting, struggling for your life, but your body once again betraying you, started to go limp. He watched as you struggled, holding you up, laughing to himself.  He picked you up, like the princess you were to him. He brought you home, and laid you on the bed he had. The door to the basement had three different types of locks on it, so there would be no way you got out, but he tied your hands together, just for fun. He made you something to drink, and a snack for when you woke up. He placed it by the bedside table, ready to give it to you when you woke up. The bed had a very soft blanket, in your favorite color. He made sure you were warm, and checked your pulse from time to time. He didn't leave your bedside, watching you sleep. His own heart rate went up when he saw your eyes start to flutter open. “Shh, don't scream baby, save your pretty voice.” he said, grabbing your wrists. “My name is charlie, and i'm here to love you for the rest of your life” You didn't even know what to say. He was cute, but he was also fucking crazy. 

“I know you have a lot of questions, my darling girl, and I have all the answers you need, as long as you're good. I won't hurt you, don't worry” he said, happy tears coming to his eyes. Finally.. He had you. He climbed onto the bed, sitting across from you. He saw your eyes well up with tears..but not like his happy ones. “Baby, no don't cry, it's okay, I promise on our life I wont hurt you, I'm so sorry I had to prick you with that needle. I cleaned it up right when I put you in my car” he said, putting your wrists to your neck, allowing you to feel a band-aid. “L-let me go” you stuttered out, finally. You saw his face fall a little. “That's one thing I can't do, my darling girl,” he said, grabbing your chin. “Here, why don't I show you around your new home?” he said, grabbing your wrists. “You’ll love what you’ll see, I promise.” he kissed your wrists. You shivered in disgust, and he saw your body shake in fear. “Shh, it's okay, lovely, calm down, I promise, anything you need, i’ll provide” he said, wiping your tears. “Let me help you up my darling” he said softly, helping you to your feet. He showed you a closet first. “See! New clothes, and similar clothes to the ones you had at home, all one’s i knew you’d love” he said, showing her some of the clothes he had. “I can always get you more if you want, okay?” he said, smiling, holding back a giddy laughter.

He saw your shocked eyes, and he took mental note of them, noting the fear. “And over here, behind this door, is your own bathroom! Look here baby!” he said, showing you all your favorite products. “I made sure i got every single one of your favorites, I want you to feel right at home with me” he grabbed  face. “I know you aren't used to it yet, but you will, I'll ease you right in” he said, showing you over to the small kitchen. “And here is where I'll make you all of your meals, or maybe soon you can help me?” he asked, looking at you lovingly.  “Speaking of which, I made you a snack and some water, I don't want you getting sick from the sedative” he continued to ramble. “It's your favorite, i promise i didnt drug it, or anything like that” he said this with sincerity, he truly didn't. He gave himself a second to breathe..

You felt torn. He had done so much for you, but in all the wrong ways..

“I- i can't stay here” you said, mentally figuring out how to get out of here.

Charlie’s eyes flickered with something darker, you could tell.

“Well, maybe, if you’re good, we can start going out more” he said, grabbing your face, wiping small tears from the corner of your eyes. “I love you so much, my darling girl and I would hate to see you out on your own again..” he said, his hand moving up to your hair. “I was fine on my own!” you retaliated, stepping backwards. “You could've done this in a better way!” He immediately grabbed you again, always needing to have a hand on you it seemed. “You must be confused, my dear.. Life with me, your future husband at that, will be so much better. I know what you need before you even know yourself.” he said, suddenly moving to your ear.. Whispering softly “Let me show you love, my darling, or things will get ugly, real fast. So choose wisely, my darling girl.” he said, immediately not giving you a chance to respond. He grabbed your neck, forcing your head to not let you push him away. He kissed you, sensually and slowly. It was utterly, beautifully entrancing.. He had just kidnapped you, but hell, you’d be lying if you didn't appreciate someone doing all of this just for you.. You kissed back.

 “That's it, my darling girl” he said, pulling away. “Let me make you feel good, sweetheart” he said, leading you over to the bed, laying you down softly, grabbing your thighs. You were turned on by this, he was so.. Surprisingly soft and gentle.. Compared to the mania you witnessed when he kidnapped you. “Why me?” you asked, attempting to sit up more, but he just pinned you down so you could see him when he spoke to you. “Oh why you?” he said, gazing into your eyes, the bit of mania showing through. “You, my love, are the very essence of perfection, love, and beauty, of course” he said, feeling up the side of your body with one hand. “From the moment I saw you, I knew that's what you were, mind, body, and soul” he praised, trailing a hand at the hem of your shirt. You blushed a deep shade of crimson, you shouldn't be feeling this way, for a man who had just kidnapped you from the woods. But you did. “You really mean that?” you asked, captivated by the way Charlie looked at you. He grabbed at your tits, gently feeling them up.. You whined just a bit. “Of course I do, my darling girl. I’d move heaven and earth just to see you smile” he said, watching your expression. “Let me make you feel good” he said, already moving to take your bottoms off.

“P-please” you found yourself stuttering, allowing him to do so. He let out a low groan, as he found your clit. “That's it, sweet girl, let yourself go” he said, watching your beautiful expressions, hearing your whimpers and small moans leave your lips. He felt his own cock throb in his pants, needing release. “You're so good for me, such a good girl” he praised, loving how your face heated up at simple praise.   You whined, feeling his finger speed up on your cunt, allowing yourself to feel good. He slowly slid two fingers in, pumping them, trying to find your spot. “Take my fingers baby, take them, I've got you, forever mine” he kept praising you, his words only making your cunt squeeze around his fingers more. You fully moaned his name when he found your g-spot, and started to relentlessly hit it, making your head spin. He leaned down to your neck, sucking and biting, making so many different marks on your skin. “Marking you as all mine, baby, doesnt it feel good to be mine?” he asked you into your neck, making you shiver. “Y-yeah- fuck!” you moaned, and he felt your cunt was close to orgasm. He sped up, his forehead on yours. “Cum for me, my darling girl, you're taking it so well, such a good girl for me” he praised, fighting his own groans watching  you drown in the pleasure he was giving you. ONLY he could give you. You came on his fingers, your body shaking as he finger fucked you through it, the praise going straight to your head. He pulled out, bringing his fingers to his lips, tasting you on them. “You taste so good, my darling girl” he said, cupping your face. “That’s it, baby.” he said, noting the tiredness in your eyes. “Thank you” is all you could say, as your body was so tired from that, granted it was your first time being fingered by someone. “You're so welcome, my darling girl, I have so much more to teach you about feeling good, but for now, just rest, sweetheart. Rest those pretty eyes, and i’ll take care of you” he praised, laying down next to you. He took you in his arms, and as you fell asleep softly, he played with your hair.. “We’re just getting started my love” 

this sucked lol im sorry chat

[trivialbob]

Sheila and I volunteered at our local brewery to help out at the Minnesota Craft Beer Festival in Minneapolis yesterday.

We helped some of the brewery employees set up their table and bring in four small kegs of beer. Sheila and I also took turns pouring samples, giving the employees a break.

In return we got free passes to the festival. We've been to beer fests before and always have a good time. This time was even better because I didn't have to buy a ticket!

I forgot to make a snack necklace—but not everyone was as forgetful as I was. Here are some good examples. The container of cheese sauce to accompany the giant pretzels was a nice touch.

There were about 75 vendors offering beer, seltzer or spirits. Everyone had at least two offerings—many had four or more. With a ticket or pass, you get a small cup. Then it's basically like trick-or-treating, but with beer.

You get a list for keeping track. The little circles reminded me of taking a machine-scored tests in high school. I took some notes too. I can tell which notes were written early in the day and which ones were scrawled later on.

Breweries often have some interesting names. I like Uncommon Loon, Hop Butcher, Gluek, and Belching Beaver.

Out of the many available beers, I tried about 20 samples. Some unusual names were Lupulin Fashion Mullet Hazy IPA, Ben's Minnesota Martini Lager with green olives and Nose Hair Bender NE IPA. You can decide for yourself whether those sound appetizing.

The strongest beer I tasted was Broken Clock French 75 Imperial Golden Ale which weighed in at 14% ABV. At the other end of the scale the Minnesota Martini Lager was a mere 4.3%.

Monkish brewery of California had a huge line all day. Their Foggy Window NE IPA has a Beer Advocate rating of 99. I didn't have the patience to wait in line to try it. I've tried some rated 100 beers in other places. I once had a serving of Pliny the Elder Imperial IPA when I visited the Russian River Brewing Company with some Tumblrs around 2015. My son gave me a four pack of Heddy Topper Imperial IPA when he was living in New Hampshire.

Here is the Minneapolis Convention Center while brewers were setting up and before ticketholders arrived.

I call BS on the "Do Not Pet - Service Animal" vest I saw on a dog It was an extremely happy pit bull which never stopped wagging its tail and would roll over on its back if it thought someone was going to rub her belly. It also walked behind her person, not beside him.

Your host, after several samples consumed.

[hiiiandbyeee]

Reo mikage

Rivals to lovers

when you first got into that school you were know This was a real rich school. You could tell from the cars at the entrance of the school, but you? You were coming to school on foot, You got into this school with your grades and your parents were proud of you, that was enough When you entered school you felt like you didn't belong here Because everyone around was so sparkly You didn't even want to look at yourself.

You entered your classroom and saw a crowd standing around a boy he looked so spoiled to you And oh my god Even his laughter was a rich laughter like ha ha ha You shook your head in despair.

At that moment, the teacher walked in, the crowd dispersed and you were left standing. And you probably looked very strange to them because you were not Japanese. You were British So you had a bit of an American high school cheerleader girlie vibe (don't question me) The teacher called you over and you stood right in front of the board.

The teacher spoke

"okay introduce yourself"

You turned to the classroom and adjusted your tone and started speaking.

"uhm I'm y-n l-n I'm from England Nice to meet y'all"

Okay, so what are you supposed to do now, bend over? The teacher pointed to an empty seat for you. The boy you saw Just a moment ago

You slowly approached and sat down, placing your bag on the floor The lesson started and you caught him looking at you every now and then. You thought this was weird like why are you looking at me you creepy bitch? You thought so but you didn't look at him instead you answered all the teacher's questions It was like you were competing with him in terms of answering the teacher's questions.

The bell rang and he turned to you, smiling but it wasn't a kind smile, it was more of a mocking smile. He spoke

"Soo you're so smart huh?"

You got angry at his words you wanted to say, yes, I'm very smart, what do you care? But you unfortunately said

"oh you think so?"

He chuckled lightly.

"You may be smart but not as smart as me"

"Oh we will see you purple puppy"

You suddenly heard everyone in the class making surprised noises when you called him like that, and frankly, it made you nervous.

"Ah ah don't call me that you can call me by my name my name is reo mikage"

He stood there like he was waiting for me to react when he said his name. I didn't understand why he was doing this

"So what?"

He made a surprised sound

"you don't know me?"

"Who are you? Beyonce?" You wanted to laugh as if you had just made a very funny joke.

he rolled his eyes

"I am the heir of the mikage company"

"What is mikage company?"

Everyone was looking at you like you were stupid.

"It's hard to talk to you"

You got bored and left. He looked at you until you left the classroom. There wasn't much going on in the next lessons, but your English was good. You were British after all But the Japanese English accent sounded very strange to your ears.

Everyone in the class, including the teacher, was very surprised by your accent, which was very satisfying. But at the end of the lesson you got bored and started reading your book.

Your book name was haunting Adeline and yeah you was knew what you were doing hehe spicy

Reo's eyes fell on your book as if he was trying to read secretly. When the teacher turned around, he looked at you and asked

"What are you reading?"

"Haunting Adeline"

"What is the book about?"

You felt your cheeks turn red but you didn't care.

"Uhm look there's a girl who named Adeline and she has a stalker that's all I can say"

"Hmm cool I'm gonna buy one when I got home"

You nodded like a spoiled brat.

"Yeah yeah If you want you can buy me the All the books of the book"

You said it as a joke, you didn't expect to see the box for the book set on your table the other day.

What the hell was happening?

Part 2?

Author note 💖

Guys I'm sorry about request but I'm trying to make it good and if y'all want part two please say it bc I want to do it with more ENEMİES TO LOVERS vibess whatever love ya

[nabi-unveiled]

Catching Up: Love for Love's Sake (Ep 4)

Other Reacts: Ep 1 Ep 2 Ep 3

Yes, it's 3:15 in the morning. Yes, I have to work tomorrow. No, I can't even sleep in because I have to interview a potential intern at 9 am. Plus, the kids will be home with me too since it's a school holiday. I don't care. I'm starting episode 4 anyways.

And yay! We've went back to the fight. I was hoping we would find out more about what happened.

Is this a new way for them to do the subtitle for "debuff/curse". I guess that's fine so that people who don't understand gaming get it. It feels a little late in the game for that though. Still, I loved this screenshot, because you can see the transition that's a bit gamified. And the purple aura energy is showing up on Yeowoon's arm.

We didn't have any debuffs last episode so I guess the debuff really does relate to affection of Myungha and not Yeowoon's personal affection. Fine. I'll exit my clown car theory about the debuffs....for now. Outside of my clown car, it makes sense that the debuff would show up now since Myungha's affection level just plummeted.

Myungha absorbs the debuff. Yeowoon is left in shock. He definitely is feeling rejected/slighted at this point.

Myungha is dragging Sangwon through the halls. Sangwon says "I'm not a kid." I'd be careful Sangwon. That line of thinking means he can hit you. I know Myungha knows how to fight, but I do wonder more and more every episode about "why" he fought. I'm already developing a lot of head canons on that score. Maybe we'll find out eventually though.

He's not going to hit him (not that I thought he ACTUALLY would anyways), because we now have a ringing sound. I'm guessing the debuff is having an effect. He absorbed all the bad purple energy, and it was STRONG this time base on his -99. Was the -99 in red last episode? If not, it should've been. Sorry, random thought.

Myungha falls down the stairs.

I've given up on the episode names being strictly related to missions. The gamer in me though is going to retranslate this as "progress". That feels better in gamification terms. Especially if it's talking about progress in the mission quest. I obviously have no clue whether that is right. Wait. Unless they're talking about aspects of the game being "in development" like new code/levels being written or the story being redeveloped/changed. Hmm. That actually feels likely. We'll stick with development.

KYUNGHOON! You're back. I missed you so much. I'm guessing they're having to skip class to go to the competition. Apparently, Myungha has hurt his leg. Kyunghoon struggles to get over the wall. Based on how Myungha hopped the wall, I'm guessing it's the right leg that's hurt. But Myungha's leg obviously wasn't THAT badly hurt. It didn't look like he tried to favor one leg more in the landing. Guess that could depend on the type of injury though. My perspective is probably skewed. I've dislocated kneecaps more times than I wish to recount. I definitely wouldn't have made it over the wall shortly after one of those times. My personality is such though that I'd have doubled down and probably hurt myself more while trying. Lol.

Sangwon is waiting on the other side of the wall. I loved his "hi". Kyunghoon asks if he was waiting. Myungha says it's a "disease". It works, but I wonder if there is a different translation of that word. They've used it several times. It was also used in a very similar way during Secret Relationships ("being nosy is a disease").

Sangwon says he was just late to school. It's coincidence that they met up. I love that he's somewhat "talking back" to Myungha. But I also have a very sarcastic/roast style sense of humor. These types of exchanges always make my day. I wish I had more of that energy in my life.

Kyunghoon asks about the shoes, and Sangwon realizes that he had made a mistake. I didn't mention it last episode as the post was already getting really long. But my guess is that Sangwon was upset about the shoes, because he thought that his mom gave them to Yeowoon. His mom had just been to the school after all, and it appears like they have a complicated relationship. I'm guessing there's a lack of affection there too based on Sangwon's reactions to Myungha's signs of care. This is all conjecture on my part. The show isn't really SAYING any of this at the moment.

But now he knows the shoes weren't from his mom. It's okay Sangwon. I made several bad calls in the last episode too. Sangwon decides to follow.

And just like that, we have a gaming party embarking on a quest.

Our trio notices that Yeowoon is standing instead of taking his place on the blocks. Is he wearing the blue shoes? It looks like it. Myungha is still outside of the love supremacy zone, but he yells Yeowoon's name. I'm taking note that his number is 251 just in case it pops back up at some point. I loved the sound effect as the camera circled around and Yeowoon realized his name was being called.

Yeowoon is recalculating his affection, and the number starts moving up fast. Lol. This feels very much like love indeed. Highs and lows and emotional turbulence. Some might say that's the fickle nature of teenage affection. I'd say that doesn't ever really change. But maybe that's just the nature of my personal relationship talking. Maybe it'd help if we had affection scores above our head so we'd both know when we screwed up. On second thought, I don't think I'd want to know my score. That feels like a recipe for disaster.

Yeowoon takes his place at the blocks with magic sparkles coming off of his blue shoes. The affection level keeps rising.

If this wasn't a "game", the new shoes would be disastrous in a competition. But as I've thought about it, I actually like that this feels like an equipment upgrade in a game. Higher tier equipment immediately leads to better outcomes in a game assuming you have the skills to use it.

The music reminds me of late 90s/early 2000s movies. I kind of love it since we're panning across Sangwon and Kyunghoon's faces, and it feels like a friend montage moment out of one of those types of "high school" movies. Ah nostalgia.

Affection level is back at 0. The subtitles say Yeowoon is second, but I'm guessing he's actually third. They announced two other names before him.

Yep, he's third place based on the next part of the dialogue. Myungha says he did well. Yeowoon is crying, but Myungha definitely doesn't understand the reason. Yeowoon is trying to figure out why Myungha is nice to him.

Poor boy is definitely dealing with romantic feelings now. I'm loving the romance driven emotional angst of it all. This is my cup of tea.

The coach interrupts. Yeowoon is still emotional, but Myungha says he'll wait. They can eat together afterwards. Yes, please do. I'm always going to be down for a shared meal.

Yay! Our whole crew is EATING together! And Yeowoon is smiling.

Yeowoon tells Myungha to eat too and gives him food. OMG - our affection level has crossed the zero threshold. We're now at 5. And it keeps climbing as he keeps giving Myungha food. Lol. Kyunghoon tells Myungha to eat slowly and Sangwon's face is priceless! He seems absolutely disgusted by Yeowoon's actions. We end on an affection level of 17 for now.

Sangwon and Yeowoon are bickering. I love it. so. much. Frenemy relationships are the best. I'm looking forward to seeing how this develops moving forward.

For those that like talks about linguistics, they said a bit about honorifics too. If I followed it correctly, Sangwon used more casual speech with Myungha and Yeowoon didn't like it. I could be mistaken though. Myungha really is the exasperated parent here. Lol. Cutie Kyunghoon helps Myungha out. He is worried that Yeowoon's feet might hurt since he ran with new shoes.

Yeowoon says he's fine, but he asks what happened to Myungha's leg.

🤣 This pout had me dying. For the game aspect, it really is like now that his "affection level" has went up, it's unlocked all kinds of new dialogue/expression options.

I wonder if Myungha realizes that his leg getting hurt was due to the purple energy. He's a smart cookie. I bet he's figured that out.

This whole scene just put me in a good mood.

Yeowoon offers to help "hold" Myungha. I'm betting there's a better translation of that. Kyunghoon used the term earlier too. I bet it has to do with letting Myungha lean on him or something like that rather than "hold" as I typically interpret. Myungha says he fine.

Yeowoon wants Myungha to rely on him too. This is a tricky situation. Yeowoon wants them to be EQUALS, but Myungha is definitely going to struggle with that. Myungha has taken on a caretaker role, and while those things aren't mutually exclusive, it can make things complex.

Yeowoon asks how Myungha knows his (shoe) size. Myungha says he let the fan (sis) pick it out, and that she wants to meet Yeowoon. Yeowoon doesn't seem happy about Myungha hanging out with her often, but he agrees to meet up with Si-a.

Yeowoon has essentially walked Myungha home. He tells him thank you which Myungha teases him about. But he says it again and leaves.

The entry light starts flickering and there are some jarring sounds. Ominous music plays, and Myungha's head is hurting.

OOOOOOH. It WAS development like "game in development". Exciting.

We're back at the bar from episode 1. Senior is asking Myungha questions.

I first noticed the three butterflies in the corner of the paper. It shouldn't be a surprise given my blog name that I'm likely to notice butterflies. They're a symbol of transformation and personal growth. Actually, they have different stages of development just like a game. A butterfly's development requires they insulate themselves from the world and focus on changing themselves before they can emerge in their final form. I don't know whether that has anything to do with this show or not though.

But these questions are interesting. Yes, I used my phone to translate. Though it kept giving slightly different translations depending on the angle I held it, I think I got the gist of it. One of the things says "like minded friends" which was what the quest said in episode 2. If I remember correctly, that was in Myungha's hand writing. So is senior having Myung-ha essentially write the game levels? I had said in an earlier episode that this was really a quest for Myungha's own happiness as well.

It WAS his writing. I love this shot. It feels like a magic dungeon with the candles and lighting. The shape of the glass is nice. I think it's a glencairn whiskey glass. Actually no. The base is wrong. It doesn't matter. The glass itself is probably not symbolic. I just find certain types of glassware pretty. As a fun side note, I used to drink everything (soda, milk, etc.) out of a red wine glass that I got while dumpster diving in college. I loved that beautiful glass. My roommate eventually broke it "on accident", but said it was "probably for the best" so that people didn't think I was drinking alcohol. Fun times 🙄.

It's late/early. I'm rambling. *Focus brain*

Senior is in white as the "heavenly" being with the power. Am I supposed to trust him? I don't. But it feels like he's God/angel coded.

"Will there be happiness to 29 year old Tae Myungha?"

"So the standard is very important." says Senior.

Myungha doesn't hear him clearly, and we can't hear his next line clearly either. He's muffled as if he's under water. It's the same sound as when he first entered the game world.

This feels important, and it feels mistranslated. Or at least like it was translated without the needed nuance. I need to pause anyways. I'm tired enough that I know I'll miss details if I keep going tonight.

(pause)

Ok. I've slept a few hours and hung out with the kids for a bit. I've mulled it over. I'm guessing that senior is really meaning that Myungha needs to be very careful about what goals/words he's using. Happy is a pretty vague term. I actually walked down the aisle to a song called "Different Kinds of Happy" from the movie Sweet Land. The idea/theme in that movie is that happiness can take different forms and mean different things to different people. In a game, if you don't have a clearly defined objective, then it's going to be difficult to meet it. So what does Myungha actually mean by "happy"?

But Myungha "can't hear" what senior is telling him. Myungha, and us by extension, are missing a critical piece of information. I'm guessing it has to do with the standard/clearer objective or that it's a warning of some kind.

We're back in the video game world. Myungha is looking at his notes.

AND OMG - YES! HOORAY! A time jump/alternate world that GETS how problematic it is for a 29 year old to be suddenly back in high school. The dialogue is clearly establishing that he IS 19 in this world. It's how I had resolved it mentally myself in episode 2. I love it when my head canons become actual canon.

Anyways, it's a good question. What CAN he do? Because "making someone happy" on a identity level scale really isn't easy. I would argue that it's not actually possible. That they have to strive for their own happiness as they accept themselves. It's not just circumstances that's driving Yeowoon's mental disdain for himself. New shoes are great, but they're not a long term solution. When you're dealing with suicidal ideation the other person has to "want" to live. A lot of times they don't even realize it until the moment. Yeah, it wasn't my grandfather's first attempt before he succeeded. My brother's neither. So far my brother has always decided he wanted to live and sought help in time.

I love that Myungha is being smart about this. He goes "What does he WANT me to do?" If you're playing a game, that's an important question. It's anticipating the game maker's design. I am noticing that the butterfly is on the journal paper here. But it's only one this time, and it's in the top right corner instead of the bottom corner.

Now THAT'S interesting. He doesn't remember "senior". There are a lot of fun implications in this development, but I'll have to stop for now. It looks like my husband has got off of work early today. It's a national holiday. I should've expected it. This will have to wait until after everyone is asleep tonight. I didn't get very far in this session, but it's fine. I really should've been working/writing anyways. I have five scripts due in the next two weeks.

(pause)

Well...the emoji tag game happened, and I got a wee bit carried away with it. I loved it so much. But then my brain was broke so it's taken a few days to get back here.

The fact that Myungha doesn't remember "senior" from his real life is a cool detail. I had said I thought it was in odd in episode 1 that he wasn't weirded out by the situation. It could mean that ONLY senior is obscured. Or it could mean that the facts of his "future" will slowly disappear as he creates a new story leaving him only with the 19 year old version of Myungha. There are a few other possibilities too, but I'll go with those two for now. I actually like the latter one in some ways. I don't remember if he recalled senior once he entered the video game during episode 1. That would provide evidence for which possible interpretations to keep moving forward. I might have to go back and check that out.

Regardless, we know this memory was jarring. The question is what triggered the memory.

We're down to 288 days left to complete our mission so a good bit of time has passed, and we're reminded that death is the penalty. We still don't know whose death we're talking about though.

We cut to Kyunghoon and Myungha walking down the hall together. Myungha is complaining that the teacher treats him like a thug. Kyunghoon proposes that they go to college together, drink together and have fun together in the future. I love the video game sound effects in the music/soundtrack.

OH! Random thought. I wonder if those sound effects show up at critical/specific moments. Is this like the rain drops in When It Rains or just a fun part of the soundtrack? Sound analysis is tricky for me, but it can add a lot to a show. And I LOVE it when sound is used symbolically. That would require an entire rewatch though as I'd have to focus just on the sound. I'll try to make note of it moving forward though to see if I can find a pattern. I can't promise I'll catch it every time though.

Hold up. We HAVE had a sound. The freaking water. I said before that it sounded like water when Myungha is shifting between worlds. That's definitely a specific sound at critical moments. Is that significant? Is it even water? Stop brain. You know your hearing can't be trusted. Move on.

Myungha is obviously uncomfortable here. Probably because he knows that he doesn't have that kind of time. He was just reminded of the countdown. It could also be because he didn't have that kind of life in the past. I don't know if he has those resources in the current videogame timeline either. Money isn't an obstacle for Kyunghoon. But it will be for Myungha and Yeowoon. But I figure it's that he feels like he's lying to Kyunghoon by agreeing to a future that may not exist. Yeowoon has already called him a liar after all.

Ah, the bullies are circling for blood. Frizzy blond guy asks Myungha if he's gay and is obviously intimidating Kyunghoon. Myungha says "I'm gay. So what." That's the confidence of someone who is very comfortable with themselves. I wonder if he was always that way, or if this is a manifestation of him already working through that part of his identity in the "real world".

Cutie Kyunghoon steps in between to protect Myungha 🙌🙌🙌. This is VERY important. Why? Because it's a dynamic shift. Myungha is collecting people in his life that care about him too and who will stand up for him even if it's risky. He's gathering "like minded friends" as well.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Myungha kisses the bully.

Should I be laughing? Probably not. This is a forced kiss. But AM I laughing? 100% yes. And all of the bully gang not knowing how to respond is epic.

Blond guy is rightfully angry, and Myungha just scolds him for swearing. What I love about this interaction is that it quickly and decidedly shifted who was the "victim" in this interaction.

Blond guy - Tak ...Joonho? It'll eventually stick with me. Anyways, he punches Myungha and we see Myungha deftly assert his dominance. He threatens to kiss him again.

This is the second interaction where Myungha has really shown this guy to be pretty pathetic. As he seems to be a leader in this "gang", he's probably not going to react to this well. He wouldn't be able to keep power over his bully gang if he ignored things like this. I'd expect backlash soon. He'll either take it out on his own members or start targeting people Myungha cares about (Yeowoon, Kyunghoon). Potentially both. If he comes after Myungha himself, it will be sneaky style. He can't (or shouldn't) risk another direct confrontation like this one. He's already lost twice.

Teacher intervenes. Apparently Myungha has got some type of cleaning duty punishment.

Yeowoon is on the other side of the window being cleaned. I'm trying to figure out if Yeowoon had heard about the fight or he just noticed Myungha's busted lip. Either way, his expressions here are KILLING me. They are so earnest and so different than what we had in previous episodes. The rise in affection level has definitely had an impact.

Myungha tries to brush it off, but Yeowoon won't let him. "Who hit you?" Myungha tells him he doesn't need to know.

Yeowoon gets very serious. Just like that earlier interaction with Kyunghoon, this is actually very important. Yeowoon is asking to be seen as an equal. As someone that Myungha can rely on. He's asking Myungha to trust him. Ooh interesting. Yeowoon dropped honorifics.

Yeowoon drags Myungha to the nurse's office. It's a reverse of care. Yeowoon taking care of Myungha. I mean, technically Yeowoon had intervened before. However, this is DIRECT care. Yeowoon asks if he's really not going to tell him. Myungha responds "What would you do if you knew?". Yeowoon - "I'll kill him". 🥹 Yes, I'm taking the threat as a squee worthy moment. There was no hesitation. Just a direct assertion of "you matter to me that much".

Myungha rubs his head.

I'm going to have to think about this one. Why is this man's physical affection so hard for me to interpret? This feels like a parent/child interaction to me. Which...is possible. Is he in guardian mode? Trying to calm Yeowoon down while acknowledging that he's grateful for Yeowoon caring about him? Or do other people see this as just a friendly interaction? Because things would not end well if my friend rubbed my head and used that tone with me. I'd see it as condescending for sure. But cultural differences could be in play here. I'm going with guardian mode.

Myungha says that rather than hit, it's more like we kissed. And Yeowoon's reaction is amazing.

Myungha is flustered by Yeowoon's reaction. Yeowoon has to be cycling through all kinds of feelings. One - this gives him hope. Two - Myungha was kissing someone besides him.

So many thoughts running through this boy's mind.

He says he should ask Tak Joonho. That means he DOES know who was involved, but he wanted Myungha to confide in him on his own. "Can men kiss too?" "I want to kiss him" while staring at Myungha's lips and putting on the ointment. Baby boy is down bad.

We cut to Sangwon coming towards the bully gang. There's the "hi" again. Love it. But it does feel like he's out of the loop. It feels more like he's invading their space. @dropthedemiurge I see what you meant now. He's not part of the hierarchy of this group. The uniforms vs. plain shirt is visually depicting that as well. That does make me have some questions about the earlier rooftop scene, but I'll hold them for now.

Did he come because he had heard about the fight? Or is this just part of his routine? He does seem to do whatever he wants. Case in point - he didn't come to class just because he didn't want to. Skipping seems to be a regular occurrence for him.

Tak Joonho says that he's going to teach Myungha/Kyunghoon a lesson. Sangwon is trying to put the pieces together. I do find it odd that Joonho is openly admitting that Myungha kissed him. I would've expected him to threaten the others and keep that quiet. Unless he's expecting Sangwon to commiserate with him and understand.

Not happening though. Sangwon is clearly on Myungha's side in this one. I figure he knows Tak Joonho enough to know he instigated whatever happened. The chuckling of the other students as Sangwon pushes back has got to raise Joonho's ire.

Tak Joonho thinks Sangwon is teasing him, but he's actually angry.

I'm rewording this line a little bit in my head to fit better with that sassy head tilt that just made me so happy. In some ways, it's a lot like Myungha earlier. "Yes. I am. What are you going to do about it?" It's a statement and a challenge.

Unlike Myungha, Sangwon does punch Joonho and IMMEDIATELY puts his hands back in his pockets. LMAO. That's a dominance signal right there. He knows Joonho isn't going to immediately punch back. He doesn't see him as a threat.

Joonho says he's holding back because he's rich. Sure you are. Keep telling yourself that. Kyunghoon seems to be pretty rich too, and you tease him just fine.

Note - I do realize that they've said that Sangwon can get away with everything due to his family. I'm sure it does play some role. But it's not everything. Sangwon is exuding dominance in this situation. He's even leaning in a mock little bow and saying "thank you" in a snarky tone. God, I love him and his self-confidence. He has grown on me so much, and I'm only halfway through this show.

Joonho asks if he can't see that he's outnumbered.

Sangwon (in other words): Bring it.

I'm sorry. I've tried to ignore that hideous wall color this entire show, but now we've added what has to be one of the ugliest arrangements known to mankind in front of it. I'm sure there are people who like that kind of thing, but it just makes me wonder why someone thought a feather duster was appealing. Normally I would be trying to figure out if the red meant something, but I just can't. It's an eyesore.

Is Si-a considered part of our gaming party now. I'm not sure. 🤔 They're collectively worrying about Sangwon though.

Si-a asks if Myungha wants to be a model for Swoony (the brand). The pay is better after all. Pay is always an enticing thing.

Myungha tells Si-a to buy him dinner. I'm confused. Why does he want Si-a to buy him dinner? 🤔 Myungha doesn't do things without a purpose. What's the catch?

LMAO. It's because Yeowoon is here. He's giving her the fangirl moment. Yes, she better buy the meal. A good one too.

Wait. Her name has an "h" sound? The subtitles now say "Shi-a". Did I miss that before? No. I'm pretty sure that's a change in subtitles.

Yeowoon looks ticked. My guess is that he thought he was going to get to eat with Myungha alone. He wouldn't be reacting like this if he had known it'd be a fangirl moment. Yeowoon is being very terse. Yes, he seems to be a more introverted, private person. But this is what you do when you're thrown for a loop. Myungha, you really need to give us introverts a heads up for these types of situations. Especially true if you gave us false expectations and now expect us to socialize with someone we are not comfortable around.

I'm still bitter over there being no food at the company meal that I drove two hours to yesterday. Don't promise me food and then give me a non-alcoholic beer instead. Shared meals are sacred. Oh...it's probably this kind of stuff that prompted the anon's "what's with you and food" question the other day. I get it now. Sorry anon. I didn't understand what you were asking.

I'm squirreling. None of that's really relevant. Yeowoon is just upset because he expected alone time with Myungha (pretty sure on that one), and he isn't getting it.

This conversation is awkward. Si-a signals Myungha to please help. Myungha asks Yeowoon if he has any questions. "Are you two close?" I've said all along that I love how direct Yeowoon is with Myungha. If he has questions, he is going to ask them. It's admirable, but lol. He's not looking at Si-a at all. Yeowoon is grilling Myungha.

Myungha responds playfully and tries to direct the conversation back to Si-a. I actually see that as a way of trying to include her in the conversation. He was trying to create a fan moment for her after all. Si-a says they're just colleagues which Yeowoon smiles about. But then Myungha protests that designation.

Yeowoon didn't like that at all. 🤣 "Are you closer to her than you are to me?" I love that Si-a can see this is important to Yeowoon. She's giving Myungha this look that's like "You idiot. Don't you dare make my blorbo upset!"

Myungha says "I only have Yeowoon in my heart" which makes Yeowoon beam. Si-a takes the opportunity to ask for an autograph. Si-a, I know I struggled with you in earlier episodes. I'm sorry. I can respect your non-toxic, supportive fangirl side.

"What do you think of when you run?" "I imagine there's a big crocodile chasing me." Well...that would be motivation I guess. I never imagined what was behind me when I ran. I was always focused on the finish line. Different things for different people I guess.

Ok Yeowoon. Let's not manifest that energy. There are too many trucks of doom in dramaland. And I've had two of my family members hit by vehicles. They survived, but they still have side effects. My brother got hit by a car while he was INSIDE a building.

Anyways, Yeowoon is saying that the vision has changed. He now imagines that someone is waiting for him at the finish line.

Sweet. I wish I knew what his personal affection was at this point though. We're seeing the impact of Myungha's affection level changing in his mannerisms and dialogue, but has it impacted how he sees himself?

Si-a says that's romantic, and Myungha breaks eye contact and visibly shifts. Lol. He felt that one.

We cut to them walking home. Yeowoon tries to ask Myungha about Joonho again, but Myungha says that Yeowoon isn't allowed to say kiss.

We got confirmation that Yeowoon thought it was going to be the two of them. Myungha chastises him a bit saying he needs friends. That's really not the point Myungha.

Yeowoon said that he's annoyed. Myungha says "he's been rude lately". Did he drop honorifics?

Yeowoon says "I want to go play with you". My kinky brain takes that line a completely different way that intended. But he's asking him out really. I LOVE this frame. There's a blinding light of love, but it's mostly over Yeowoon. Yeowoon knows he wants to kiss Myungha. He knows he wants to spend time with Myungha 1-1. Myungha still hasn't come to that realization yet.

It's an amusement park near the sea. Myungha seems hesitant, but he says yes. Wasn't Myungha's mom near the sea? I wonder if that's part of his hesitation. Yeah, there's definitely something there. This means something more to Myungha for some reason. But he's agreeing anyway.

Well hello. 👀 She's pretty. She was hidden initially in the frame, but they've now exposed her as she's asking Si-a for help. Who is she? Is this the person returned from abroad that Kyunghoon mentioned?

We're now in a dream sequence. 100%. "Do it with me too. The kiss."

Based on the game interface, this is Myungha's dream. Fun. Realization is coming. It's a bit of a kabedon moment with the tree. I'm enjoying it, because as confident as Myungha was when he kissed Joonho, he's not confident at all here. He's flustered.

Myungha wakes up.

Yeowoon has been sending him messages. Apparently he woke up early. If you get messages from me at 4 am, it means I haven't went to bed yet. Not unusual.

Myungha has a message from an unknown number. It's referencing children's day, mother's day, and teacher's day. Myungha isn't sure who it's from though. My immediate guess is his mom. But that doesn't make sense. He hasn't had contact with his mom since he was really little.

Is it the heavenly senior? We know information about the game comes to Myungha through his phone. "But no time for me to meet you." It's reminding me of the poem I wrote for my grandfather following his suicide. It wasn't about holidays/time, but about hiking trails. That was our thing. "But no trail that brings me to you." Crap. I'm crying again. This has been a week of tears in BL land. For the record, I cry very little in real life. But I bawl like a baby watching shows. It's cathartic in some ways. I can't analyze this properly. I'm going to read things into this that aren't there. I'm sure this will become a reoccurring event. I'll wait until the next message to figure it out.

Yeowoon came to pick Myungha up, and it looks like he paid for the bus fare for both of them. Cutie. Myungha may not realize it, but Yeowoon is definitely taking him on a date.

The mural next to the bus is of the sea. I could get a better angle this time. Phone keeps translating different based on angle, but it's better than last time. Something about sacred and beautiful love. Something about a lighthouse.

I love that Yeowoon quickly says "Look at the seagulls". There were birds on the mural too. Seagulls are a trip down memory lane for me. I got handed a bone during my oral qualification exams and asked what I could tell the professors about it. It was a seagull bone.

Seagulls have so many different symbolic meanings depending on culture. I know there are a few different takes in literature. There are also a lot of different meanings for them in Native American lore. Some positive, some negative. It depends on the tribe. A lot of it has to do with their ability to navigate in a storm and overcome obstacles if I remember correctly. There might have been something about the connection between physical and spiritual realms which would be interesting given the premise of this show. Like a bridge or messenger between the two. I don't know what they typically means in S. Korea though. I'll dive into that later.

Yeowoon says he should've brought shrimp chips. They're not my favorite, but my sous chef loves shrimp chips.

Oh. We're feeding them to the seagulls? I mean, they'll eat it. It's a fun experience for the human. It probably doesn't give them the nutrients they need.

Myungha asks if Yeowoon likes the sea. Yeowoon says he likes the mountains more. I love them both, but I live closer to the mountains. I've asked my kids this question before. One chose sea. One chose mountains. One chose "Wherever Uncle Zach is". Yeah, I'm not the only one who thinks my brother is awesome.

They're planning to climb mountains. Yeowoon wants to climb "Kongryung". Based on Myungha's reaction, that must be a hard climb. Based on Yeowoon's reaction, I'm guessing it's a long one. "I'm happy to be with you." Myungha doesn't seem sure how to process that.

Yeowoon asks if Myungha has been here before.

This feels like a lie. It's going to be interesting if lying becomes a thing for Myungha. Well-intentioned lies. But lies nonetheless. It might not be a lie though. That's just my gut talking.

They're planning on going to a clam kal-guksu place. I enjoy noodle soups, but I've never had clams in any capacity. They're not very common here. I have dissected one and done an experiment on heart rate for a class though. Not important.

Apparently, Yeowoon doesn't like seafood. And Myungha slips up. He's using information from the manuscript. Yeowoon is rightfully perplexed and then amused that Myungha knows this about him.

"Sometimes it feels like you're someone that knows me."

Yeah, that's probably going to hurt when he realizes Myungha has known about him all along.

All of Yeowoon's little smiles are killing me this episode.

Yeowoon says he now understands why Myungha likes the sea. Did Myungha say he liked the sea? I don't remember that. 🤔 It could be in an earlier episode, or I could have overlooked it. If he likes the sea though - is that why we have a water sound? Yes, I'm still stuck there. My brain is still obsessing over a sound that probably isn't even what I think it is. I curse my brain sometimes.

Yeowoon says "I've come to like it too". Cut away to them sitting on the stairs in their coordinating blue/green shirts.

There is so much I could say about that closing frame, but I know that I'm out of images. Anyways, we're halfway up the stairs. We're building the relationship. We're sitting side by side. We're equal...in this moment at least. There's no railings on this part. It'd be easy to fall off the sides.

The blue/green combo I find interesting, because it's a shift. These two characters have worn a lot of black & white. What does the shift mean? Is it part of their relationship developing or the changing levels of affection?

Is this show even color coded? I'll have to think about that. Because Sangwon also wears a white undershirt. He's definitely not a "heavenly human" type. Wait...is Myungha the ONLY one wearing a different color undershirt as part of their uniform? Is he the only one in black? I guess that makes senses. He's from a "different" world after all. But why black? Actually, Yeowoon's running outfit was in black too when he had the -100 value. So Myungha isn't the only one in black. Nevermind. I was overthinking again.

This was a fun episode. I'm loving that Yeowoon is so open and direct with his feelings. Myungha isn't there yet, but he's beginning to react. Now I just need to convince my brain that it's 4 am and it needs to just let the water sound go. IS IT WATER?!?

Don't tell me. Because if it is water, that means it's important. And if it's not water, I'll eventually realize it wasn't important.

For now, I'll just distract my brain with a more pressing question - what happened to Sangwon?