#if you don't understand it just accept that you do not understand

[argonautsoul]

“Oh, to be able to be admired, cared for, loved, without needing to do any other thing than existing. No need to fight. Just to care, and nourish one and each other...”

Love isn’t something you feel, though. It’s something you do. And so,

loving someone is loving who they are.

When people feel that they are not understood, it frequently is due to not enough empathy going both ways...

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

Here, one is actually saying: “I was in love with the fantasy relationship I wanted him/her to give me, but s/he wasn't offering me that; (I didn't like the way s/he was treating me)”.

Whatever you understand about your partner is your perspective. It is not what s/he really is. Whatever you attribute to your partner is in relation to you.

True love is based on accepting each other as they are... and you can't love something that you actually don't like... you can't love the other one if you don't actually enjoy the way s/he makes you feel.

Preferences are more about us than the other person, so first, try to give yourself what you are seeking from your date or partner.

Love isn't about trying to change someone to fit our idea of perfect.

What's more,

Forever, one can not fully understand the other one at all. This is the beauty of how they were created. Therefore, there is conflict between them.

Even within ourselves, there are/can be some deep-seated subconscious behaviours and beliefs that we don’t understand.

It is about accepting the whole person, even the parts you don't fully understand or agree with.

People's personalities change and grow over time. As you go through life together, you'll see new sides of each other. True love allows for that growth and accepts the ever-changing nature of your partner, even as their outer personality shifts. 

Any relationship is in a state of change, part of which is continuous knowledge of the other.

“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.”

 — Fred Rogers

And hence, constant effort is needed to accept and adjust themselves to keep up with the changing lifestyles along the way with the changing society.

It takes time to grow together. And we want the maturity in a relationship that comes with time, the emotional connect that develops over years, that sense of belonging when we barely even know the other person... Apparently, nothing is worth our time, effort, and patience. Not even love. Relationships, however, require energy and participation.

Cognitive biases can be particularly damaging because they distort our perceptions and interpretations of our partners' actions and motives.

Cognitive bias is so difficult to acknowledge, understand, or be aware of within ourselves because we actively protect our beliefs. Sometimes, this means denying truth or new information that comes to us (a la cognitive dissonance).

In addition,

Depressed people don’t have the energy, and if they are caught up in the very common mode of isolation because of their depression they are definitely not participating... sometimes, there is an element of mental illness involved in this arena in general.

Lastly,

We don't really need an intellectual twin who can finish our sentences.

And that level of interconnection isn’t necessary. As long as they treat you appropriately, even if they don’t understand you completely, you can still have a very fulfilling relationship.

Love is a commitment, not about the mushy gushy feelings.

Let the commitment be the beginning of understanding. 

══════☸☸☸══════

Too often, in this culture, we cloud the picture, overanalyze, fear those conscious efforts, and insist that love means something very definable and ultimately acceptable — don’t get sucked into the madness, stay in your true path and please, please find a partner who is similar to you (i.e., hold similar values), who cares about your thoughts and feelings, and genuinely enjoys your company.

And read “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. It’s eye-opening to realize that someone may be figuratively shouting their love from the rooftops — but you aren’t “hearing” it. Communication is key, as long as you understand your partner’s language.

.

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

[genderqueerdykes]

btw 'syscourse' and plural infighting isn't accomplishing anything. back in the late 90s and early 2000s, the only communities and resources for plurals that were widely available were for and by non-traumagenic systems. the only people who were advocating for normalizing and accepting plurality on a large scale were non-traumagenic systems. if you did research into plurality 10 - 15 years ago, most of the results that came up would have been experiences written by spiritual and natural plurals.

many people at the time were expressing their dislike of forcing every single plural to identify as if they had trauma- many found this insulting to themselves, and rightfully so! no one should be forced to identify in a way they don't agree with just to rightfully be a part of a community they already occupy. this obsession with "you can only be plural if you have trauma" has only come about extremely recently. i found out about plurality through the otherkin community. i was actually told about DID by someone in the spiritual plurality community. people don't seem to understand that most non-traumagenic systems have respect for traumagenic systems and don't gatekeep their spaces to prevent us from entering.

older plural spaces on the web like healthymultiplicity accepted all plurals. the goal of the community was to show that you can live as plural and not have it be a tragedy or something to "fix". if anything, folks with dissociative disorders owe a LOT to non-traumagenic systems for pushing to normalize plurality without implying that we HAVE to integrate our headmates and try to stop being plural. a huge part of the early online plural community was there to push that plurals can and do live happy lives and shouldn't view their plurality as a bad thing

it's not going to make singlet society see us in a better light. it's not going to get people to understand plurality better. it's not going to get us better mental health resources. it's not going to improve the quality of care for dissociative and traumagenic systems. all you're doing is bullying someone else that you don't understand simply because you don't agree with them.

you're not going to recover from your trauma or understand your own plurality better by denying the existence of other types of plurality. you're not "making the community safer" by gatekeeping. telling other people how their brains work is policing their identities. whether or not you want to accept it, if you forcefully kick endos out of plural spaces, you are the cop you claim to hate.

fighting with people on your own team will never net you a victory. to every other dissociative and traumagenic system: endos are on your side. you are wearing the same jersey. you are made of the same flesh and blood. enough. come together to share your similarities instead of fighting over differences. celebrate the diversity that plurality offers. don't take someone else's identity personally. someone can share the space with you without having to match exactly how you identify. diversity is what makes a community thrive.

[orcasoul]

The Plus One

Summery: You and Pedro have been in a relationship for a while but for some reason he'd stopped inviting you to social events. Has he grown tired of you...?

Warnings: swearing, angst (because I liiive for it!), mental health issues, low self esteem from reader, caring Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

This is inspired by the video of Pedro dancing his arse off at Sarah Paulsons 50th birthday party. God bless this man for randomly inspiring us when he's not even trying to lol.

Word Count: 3,516

It's a quiet evening at home. The living room fireplace is softy blazing, the crackling red and orange flames along with the Christmas tree lights and low lamp light bathes the room in a reposeful ambience. You're snuggled up on the settee in your favourite fluffy Oodie, sipping a hot chocolate as you finish reading a Christmas rom com by one of your favourite authors. And while this is something that usually helps you to unwind at the end of the day, you can't seem to shift that gutting feeling deep down in your stomach. You should have been with Pedro tonight at Sarah's party instead of here alone. With the book finished you're about to check Kindle for your next read but before opening the app, you'd decided to check your notifications on facebook.

Now you wish you hadn't. Of course the first thing to pop up would be a video of Pedro having the time of his life at the party. Not that that is the real issue here. You're not the controlling or possessive type who wants to keep their partner all for yourself and deny them any kind of social life; quite the opposit, in fact. The thing that really hurts, that makes your heart physically ache is that you're never included in Pedro's social events anymore. You would have loved to have been his date to Sarah's party and make memories with him like normal couples do. You've met Sarah on several occasions and the two of you had always got along really well, so why would he rather go alone than bring you?

You've been together for six months now, so it's not like you're in the early stages where you're both yet to meet the others' family and friends. It just doesn't make sense. You had attended a few ceremonies and promotional events for Pedro's movies with him before now and even though they had been quite intense environments to be in, you were just thrilled to be there with him, to support him and show the world how proud you are of him. And you'd like to think that you were adept at hiding the effects that your social anxiety had on you during these occasions. You'd smile, engage in chit chat and if it became too overwhelming you'd always secretly resort to your special coping technique to calm your nerves; stroking slow circles on the palm of your hand.

But it had been months since you'd last attended any events with him and as time goes on it just hurts more and more. You'd hoped time would have made it easier to accept, but truthfully it makes you feel abandoned, insignificant, like you don't belong in his world. Is that it? Is he embarrassed by you? It's true you're both from very different worlds, having met through friends of friends and not through working together in the film industry. Sometimes you still can't understand why he'd chose to be with a nobody like you when he could literally have any woman he wanted. As your mind continues to spiral, taking you to dark places, tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

To love him so much, only to feel it's not enough for him to want you around is... soul crushing. You'd been trying for so long to ignore that niggling little voice in the back of your mind; the one telling you that you aren't good enough for him and there has been times when you'd been able to mute it, especially when you're together and he looks at you with pure adoration in his eyes, or the times he would come home to LA between filming, even if it was just for a couple of days to see you or if he couldn't make it he'd fly you out to the set. No matter what he always made time for your relationship, but only out of the public eye. Pedro has always been a private person, especially when it comes to romantic involvements, but it feels like he's trying to hide you.

And now, this latest video has turned that niggling little voice into a full on megaphone, screaming an endless barrage of ugly truths at you; you're not enough for him. He's bored of you. You're an embarrassment, a stone around his neck. It was only a matter of time. You clutch at your chest as your heart shatters into a thousand pieces, sobs wracking your body. It's over! How could you have not seen it sooner?! He doesn't need you in his life. He's bloody Pedro Pascal for heavens' sake.

You were a delusional fool to ever believe you had anything to offer him. Maybe this is his way of subtly telling you it wasn't working for him anymore. Maybe he'd hoped showing you the stark differences between you both would have made you realise it couldn't continue, and being the kind and gentle man he is, he didn't want to outright dump you and hurt you, so this was the best strategy.

Now your sorrow is tinged with anger. If he wanted to end it all this time he damn well should have had the balls to tell you instead of dragging it out. So, it's down to you now; if he won't do it, you'll have to. Your tablet screen is now shining with your tears. You wipe it dry with your sleeve and throw it down beside you, Knidle well and truly forgotton. Fluffing up a cushion, you curl up on the settee while your broken heart mourns and weeps.

As the party came to an end Pedro couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He'd had a great time and wouldn't have missed one of his best friends' milestone birthdays for the world, but he missed you like hell tonight. He especially felt the sting of your absence when he would see couples dancing or sitting together, hand in hand or snuggling up. He feels selfish, but he wishes you could have been here tonight. And not just tonight, but to all his recent public appearances like the premiers for The Wild Robot and Gladiator 2, but he won't put you through that again.

The guilt still eats away at him when he casts his mind back to the last couple of times you'd attended high profile events with him, even low key and private ones where there isn't a constant blinding flash of cameras. He knows of your struggles with your mental health, in particular with social anxiety (something he can absolutely relate to) and even through your obvious facade he could see what the pressure was doing to you, often feeling a slight tremble in your hand while laced with his. He could see the difference between your forced smile and your genuine smile; the one that would make your eyes sparkle and he could lose himself in them completely.

But the worst thing was when you start rubbing the palm of your hand over and over when you'd thought he wasn't watching. He knew then it was all becoming too much for you and that's when he'd decided that he won't be selfish anymore, that he had to prioritise your well being and comfort before his own and if that meant attending ceremonies and large gatherings alone, so be it. Of course, he always felt incomplete without you at his side, but your needs far outweigh his own as far as he's concerned. Knowing he can shield you from even a fraction of discomfort makes the sacrifice worth it.

After slipping into his jacket, Pedro found Sarah at the front door of her house, waving some guests off. Wrapping her in a big hug, he said, "Happy birthday again, sweetie and thanks for inviting me." Sarah returned the hug. "I'm so glad you came, but I missed seeing Y/N tonight. How is she?" Pedro couldn't hold back the grin that broke out across his face at the mention of your name. "She's great. I wanted to bring her tonight, but I think the crowd would have been too much for her." Sarah smiled endearingly at her friend. "You really do love her, don't you?" Pedro chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh no reason..." she smirked. " Only that I've never seen you so smitten and protective over any other woman in all the years I've known you. You've got it bad." Pedro rolled his eyes, playfully. "Yeah, I guess I do." "So, what are you waiting for?" Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?" Pedro asked, knowing exactly what she meant. "You've been carrying that ring around with you for weeks now and still haven't asked her. What's holding you back?" Pedro shifted uncomfortably, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Just worried about her, that's all. The moment word gets out of an engagement, paparazzi will be circling like vultures. I don't just want her overwhelmed." "I think you underestimate her," Sarah began, "I don't think she'd ever let her anxiety get in the way of being with you. It's obvious how much she loves you. In fact when I'm around you two for too long, the sweetness gives me temporary diabetes." Pedro let out a deep belly laugh at that, drawing one from Sarah in return.

"Just do it..." she urged, gently. "You know she'll say yes." Pedro smiled and nodded, "I know." "Well..." Sarah yawned, "Get out of here. I'm fifty now and need my beauty sleep." She gave Pedro another hug. "So, I'll see you and Y/N for lunch next week?" "Sure," Pedro replied, "Goodnight, sweetie." He waved as he walked to his car. "Night," Sarah called out before closing the door.

Settling in his car, Pedro connected his phone to the car speaker and rang your phone. He promised he'd call after the party to say goodnight and couldn't wait to hear your voice. But as soon as you answered, he knew something was wrong. "Hey baby, everything okay?" he asked, worridly. His worry only increased when you cleared your throat, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. "Yeah um... I'm fine." You most definitely aren't fine! "You're a shit liar, you know that?" Pedro says, lightheartedly to help put you at ease. Now his tone turns more serious. "Tell me what's wrong." Silence... "Y/N? You're starting to scare me now." "I told you I'm fine. I'm just... tired." You tried to sound convincing but failed, spectacularly.

"I'm coming over -" "No!" Your abrupt outburst silenced Pedro. You've never turned him away in all the months you've been together. "It's... uh... it's late. You should just get home safe." Pedro sighed. "I know something's wrong and if you won't tell me on the phone I'm coming over." At that, you burst into tears. A pang shot straight through Pedro's heart at the sound of you crying. "Hey, baby, talk to me!" he pled. "What happened?" In between the the sniffling your voice became strained. "I didn't want to do this over the phone." Pedro suddenly had a sinking feeling in his gut, not liking the tone of this conversation. "Do what?" he asked, hesitantly. "Its..." sniffle, "It's over."

If Pedro hadn't already been sitting in the car his legs would have given out on him! "W- what?!" he stuttered in disbelief. "What do you mean it's over?!" His hands gripped the steering wheel for support. Where the fuck did this come from all of a sudden?! "Please..." you whispered, sounding mentally drained. "Don't pretend you didn't know this was coming. If you don't want me anymore you should have said something sooner." Pdero jerked his head back, blinking in shock. "What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" You are full on sobbing now, your words just an unintelligible jumble. "I'm coming over, right now!" "No, please-" "I'm coming over!" he cut you off bluntly and hung up the phone.

His hands shook as he started up the engine and it took all of his willpower to not floor it to your house. Getting pulled over for speeding is the last thing he needs right now. The whole way over, his mind was a frantic mess. What could have happened between the last time he saw you (which was only yesterday) and now? Did he say something? Do something? When he got to your house, he practically flew from the car, his fist pounding on your front door almost as hard as his heart was pounding behind his ribs. "Baby open up, please. I'm not leaving until you talk to me." A few moments later the door cracked open and there you stood, puffy eyed and blotchy faced. Your lips had swollen and your nose shone red from crying.

Pedro could have cried himself from the state you're in. Without a second thought he pushed his way through the door and swept you into his arms, cupping the back of your head to his chest. To his relief, instead of pushing him away, you encircled your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He reached back to close the door behind him, then guided you to the setee, sitting beside you. "Now, what's all this about, hmm? I know this isn't what you really want." You shook your head, a small humourless laugh escaping you. "Of course it's not, but deep down I think it's what you want."

Pedro's forefinger gently tipped your chin up so you were looking into his eyes; big puppy dog eyes filled hurt, confusion and fear. "What I want?" His bottom lip twitched as if he was lost for words. You nod, wiping your cheeks. "W- why would you ever think something like that, sweetheart?" Pedro's shocked expression now has you doubting yourself. Were you wrong? But how could you be? For a while, you've been trying to ignore the feeling that he was slipping away but looking at him now... It's like he'd never even entertained the idea of leaving you. All this uncertainty is giving you whiplash and you can't hold it in anymore. You need to get everything off your chest.

"I..." you trail off as you feel more tears gathering, ready to pour out along with all your insecurities. "...I feel like you don't want me around anymore..." you begin, chest shuddering with nerves and hiccups. "You never invite me to anything, whether it's to do with your public life or even your social life. I'm never included like a partner should be. I need you to be honest... Are you ashamed of me? Because sometimes I feel like you don't want to be seen with me and that you've been pulling away..." You're rambling now, but you just can't stop. "I know I'm not on the same level as you and there are so many beautiful women out there throwing themselves at your feet. Maybe I don't belong in your world. Maybe I'm not enough for you-" Pedro's hands on either side of your face stops your self deprecating tirade.

"Baby, don't you ever put yourself down like that again, you hear me?" You're shocked to see Pedro's cheeks are now wet too. "I'm sorry. Fucking hell! I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I thought I was protecting you this whole time." "Protecting me?" you ask in bewilderment. Pedro gave you a sad smile. "I Know from years of experience that being in the spotlight is tough. It can be draining and I could see how hard it was for you." Pedro took one of your hands and turned it over, rubbing slow circles into your palm. When you realised what he meant by that action, he nodded and kissed your forehead.

"I know you tried to hide it from me, but I noticed every time." "I'm sorry," you mumbled, shame burning your cheeks. "No." Pedro squeezed your hand. "You never apologise for that. I'm the one who's sorry. I was afraid if I mentioned it, you deny it for my sake, so I stopped asking you to come with me thinking it was the best thing for you." Pedro exhaled and your heart ached for him, seeing the guilt and remorse crushing him. "I didn't think it would have looked like I never want you around, 'cause the truth is I miss you, EVERY GODDAMN TIME I have to attend these things without you. I want you with me, now and forever. I'll tell you what..." he looked to be carefully considering his next words. "if you feel up for it, come with me to the next event and if you feel overwhelmed at any point, you tell me and we'll take some time out or even leave."

More tears fall, but this time from sheer relief. You hadn't realised you'd dropped your head again until Pedro, once again, lifted your chin. He looked into your eyes with a fierce and passionate determination. "Now, I'll say this only once; I'm not ashamed of you, we are on the same level, you are more than enough for me and you ARE my world. I love you, so much!" You couldn't fight the beaming smile that practically split your face and you grabbed Pedro by the collar of his jacket, crashing your lips against his.

A surprised "Oomph!" came from his throat and you felt him smile against your mouth. His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you flush to his upper body. His tongue licked your lips and you opened them, allowing him to deepen then kiss; a kiss filled with love, reassurance and a promise of forever. Pedro then broke the kiss, pulling you into a hug. "I love you too," you whispered into his ear. "And I'm sorry, I should have told you how I was feeling instead of keeping it from you." Pedro cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear. "I'm sorry too, for making that decision for you instead of talking to you."

You let out a lighthearted chuckle, Pedro's frown softening at the sound. "I guess it was just bad communication on both our parts." "Yeah..." he agreed. "Let's make a promise to each other, right now; that we'll always be open and honest with each other and not keep things bottled up." "I promise," you smile and kiss the tip of his nose. "And I promise, too," he returned the kiss. With all the tension drained from your body, you suddenly feel exhausted and can't stop the big yawn taking over you. Pedro smiled at you, adoringly. "I think we should get you to bed, sweetheart." He stood up, picking you up off the setee and made his way to your bedroom.

"Will you stay tonight?" You whisper as you snuggle into his neck, inhaling the scent you love so much. "Of course I will." He kissed the crown of your head. While you used the bathroom, pedro changed into a pair of PJ bottoms and an old T-shirt he'd left here for when he'd stay over. He used the bathroom after you, rushing through brushing his teeth just so he could return to you sooner. Walking into the bedroom, he laughed to himself when all could see was your eyes peeking at him from the edge of the quilt, which was pulled up to cover your nose. God, you look adorable. Your eyes creased in the corners as you laughed under the cover, then pulled it away for him to settle in next to you.

Pedro laid on his back, lifting his arm for you to snuggle into him. Sighing happily, you lay your head on his broad chest and lace a leg over his hips, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body soothing you instantly. "I love you." You tipped your head up to kiss him softly on his lips. "I love you too," he purred, tightening his arms around you. It didn't take you more than ten minutes to drop off, judging by your slow breaths. Pedro, on the other hand, stayed awake long after you'd dropped off, just relishing the feeling of holding you in his arms. He feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how close he came to losing you tonight, and all because of a misunderstanding.

He thinks of the ring he's been carrying around, how he almost lost the opportunity to give it to you. Well, he won't wait any longer. If tonight has taught him anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed in life and, even though he never once doubted you'd say yes, just your devastated reaction to believing you'd lost him proves that you love and need him as much as he does you. Tomorrow he'll ask you; He'll wine and dine you at your favourite restaurant, take you on a stroll along the beach and then, he'll get down on one knee and invite you to share the rest of your life with him.

@greenwitchfromthewoods @picketniffler @liciafonseca @misscornelia13 @missadangel @southernbe

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: dilf!Han Jisung x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers

words: 26.8k. summary: jisung is a father, y/n is desperate for a job and Seyeon likes her too much.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  . Spotify playlist .

warnings: dirty talks, soft!dom jisung, unprotected sex (be mindful), breeding, oral (fem receiving.)

Seyeon it's a papa's girl. She took the Jisung's cheeks, and her mother's eyes, the kindness of her father but the attitude of her mom. She always tell when she doesn't want something.

"I don't like the zoo!" Jisung sigh, at the yet another attempt to take her daughter to the big gate of the zoo, the colours of the funny animals all over the signs, making every kids gasp in happiness. On the other hand, Seyeon hates the zoo.

"why sweet cheeks? you were so happy to come here with daddy," Jisung knee down in front of her little girl, both of them pouting softly, both of them don't want to hurt the other. "it reminds me of mommy, I wanna go with mommy!”

After the separation of the two parents the situation always been really hard, Seyeon never wanted to stay with Jisung for more than two days, she doesn’t like the small bit luxurious apartment that jisung as in Seoul, she loves Mom’s house right in front of the ocean Incheon. She doesn’t like the fact that her father as a cat, the mother as a dog. She doesn’t like going around with her daddy in his studio because she can’t play, she loves passing time with her mom in her painting room. They are just in two different worlds.

That’s why it never worked out. Jisung been always busy with his career as the most successful kpop artist in his group, when he met the mother in Japan, he thought right the way that she was the one. For years they kept the relationship private, for the amount of fanbase that Jisung was having, was making the girl uncomfortable. But they end up married. A beautiful marriage that everyone was loving, the parents accepted and the fans not totally supportive. As soon as Seyeon born, he knows something between him and her wife was breaking apart.

They started with a separation, living in two different places, and then the divorce was imminent. Seyeon at the age of five years old saw her father just twice a month, but after jisung retired from the band to start his career as a producer, he wanted to pass more time with her daughter.

That’s why they are at the zoo, because jisung remember that when she was three the zoo was her favourite place ever. “sweet cheeks, it’s.. just me and you today. a seyeonnie and daddy day!” He try to cheers up the little girl, making her pout just growing, but she start to walk. At the end, she’s still a papa’s girl. And she doesn't want him to report her bad attitude to her mother.

"what do you wanna see first, princess?" Seyeon mumble an answer, that jisung doesn't understand but her little hand guide his to the big spot for the lions. The man get lost in the moment, the beautiful creatures are playing around and he grabs his phone to take some pictures of it, just as a memory.

He let his daughter's hand for a second, "do you want to take a picture for mommy babygirl?"

Jisung turns to look at his side and he can't see his little girl, he's panicking at this point. He's shouting her name, trying to find her in every spot that the little girl could hide, he's so close to grab the phone and call the police when she hear her little laugh.

Her adorable laugh. He turns so quickly to get the dizziness from it, but he doesn't care, he totally lost his daughter in the zoo. When he lands his eyes on the girl she see her playing some hand-game with another woman, Seyeon it's laughing and giggling for the mistakes that they are making and you are holding her on your lap.

"Seyeon!" He calls her out as he start to get closer to them, with a speedy walk, he almost trip as you look up at him with a surprised look. "baby, I am so sorry." Copious tears dropping from his eyes, making his puffy cheeks turning red, he lift his daughter from your lap, hugging her tight. "daddy is so sorry sweet cheeks."

"don't worry daddy! I was with y/n! she's sooo nice!" The little girl squeak in a giggle, making jisung turn his head to you, an awkward smile on your face. "hi?"

You smile softly at Jisung's awkward greeting, your eyes meeting his as the moment hangs in the air. Seyeon clings to Jisung tightly, her arms wrapping around his neck while she keeps giggling, completely unfazed by the earlier scare.

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Seyeon murmurs, her small voice soothing him. “y/nie is nice. I had fun with her.”

Jisung’s breath hitches as he holds her close. “I shouldn’t have let go of your hand. I was so scared, baby.” His voice cracks slightly, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his chest.

You shift uncomfortably, unsure of how to navigate the situation. "She’s a really special little girl," you say softly, trying to keep the mood light. "And it’s not every day you get to see lions this close." Your words are genuine, but there’s an unspoken tension between you and Jisung.

Seyeon glances between you both, her small fingers twirling a lock of Jisung’s hair absentmindedly. “Daddy, I like y/n,” she says matter-of-factly, her bright eyes shining with innocence. “She paints really pretty pictures like mommy.”

Oh great, another artist, jisung thinks.

Jisung chuckles lightly, a soft smile pulling at his lips despite his earlier panic. “You’re quite the little artist yourself, princess.” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head before turning to you again. “Thank you for keeping her safe... and for being kind to her.”

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease despite the weight of the situation. “It’s nothing, really. She’s a sweet kid.”

Seyeon leans back, resting her head on Jisung’s shoulder, her little hand still firmly entwined with his. The moment feels fleeting, like something precious they don’t want to let go of too soon.

“Well, I should let you two get back to your day,” you say, stepping back slightly. “She clearly enjoys her time with you..?”

"Jisung, I'm Han Jisung," he watches you carefully, his gaze softening. “Would you... like to join us for lunch? a little reward to kept safe my little girl.”

You hesitate for a second, the offer catching you off guard, but Seyeon’s excited nod makes the decision easier. “Okay. Just for lunch.”

Seyeon claps her hands together, excited once more. “Yay! I love lunch with Daddy and y/nie!”

The three of you settle at a cozy corner table in a quiet café inside the zoo. The warm glow of the late afternoon sun filters through the large windows, casting a peaceful ambiance over the scene. Seyeon sits between you and Jisung, her small hands clutching a juice box as she eagerly looks between you both.

Jisung takes a deep breath, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the table. “I never wanted to scare you, y/n,” he says softly. His voice is quieter now, more introspective. “You didn’t have to come with us, but… I’m glad you did.”

You smile softly, watching Seyeon as she drinks her juice, her little hands messy with excitement. “She’s a bright little girl. It was hard to say no.”

Jisung chuckles quietly, his eyes lingering on his daughter. “She gets that from her mother,” he says with a bittersweet smile. “And from me… the stubborn part.”

Seyeon giggles, her head tilting as she looks up at him. “Daddy, can we go to the park later?”

“We’ll see how you’re feeling,” Jisung replies with a wink. “You’ve had quite the adventure today already.”

Seyeon pout a little looking at you like you're in charge for this kind of things, "can you come too? please?" Jisung's eyes wide open, looking at you two before gasping a laugh, "baby I think y/n has her own things to do, don't you think?"

"What things daddy?" Her big doe eyes staring at his soul, he's always been bad at saying no to his daughter.

You watch them interact, their bond so natural, yet it’s clear there’s a depth to Jisung’s love for Seyeon that runs deeper than mere words. It’s the kind of love that only a parent can understand—protective, tender, and sometimes fragile.

“You don’t have to explain,” you say softly. “I understand what you’re trying to do. Being there for her. You’re doing your best, even if it’s hard.”

Jisung’s gaze flickers to yours, holding for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s not just about being her dad. It’s about being someone she can rely on, someone who won’t let go, even when things get messy. I’ve failed her before—too often, honestly. But I want to get it right now.”

Seyeon reaches out, her tiny hand resting on his arm. “You’re the best daddy, though.”

He laughs softly, brushing his fingers through her hair. “You’re the best daughter.”

You take a sip of your drink, the atmosphere soft and unburdened. Seyeon seems to sense the moment, her energy mellowing as she quietly munches on a pastry.

Jisung finally shifts his gaze back to you, his smile fading slightly as he leans in a little closer. “I wanted to apologize for everything—how things ended between me and her mother, the times I wasn’t there for Seyeon the way I should have been. It’s been a journey.”

You nod gently, your expression compassionate. “No need to apologize. Life happens, and we all do the best we can with what we have. You’ve clearly tried.”

There’s a long pause, the quiet hum of the café filling the space between your words. Seyeon’s light laughter bubbles up again as she tries to balance her juice box on her nose, her playful antics bringing a refreshing lift to the moment.

Seyeon suddenly pipes up, cutting through the quiet moment. “Can we get ice cream now?”

Jisung’s eyes sparkle as he glances at you. “Ice cream sounds good, doesn’t it?”

You laugh softly, nodding. “Ice cream is always a good idea.”

The ice cream stand is a lively hub of chatter and sweet aromas. Seyeon giggles as she holds her cone tightly, a swirl of pastel colors already melting down the sides and onto her small hands. Jisung grabs a handful of napkins, gently wiping her sticky fingers with a chuckle. You watch the scene with a warm smile, enjoying how natural and effortless their bond is despite the challenges Jisung hinted at earlier.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the streets, Jisung glances over at you. “Y/n, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks softly, nodding toward a quieter corner near a park bench.

Seyeon is too engrossed in her ice cream to notice as you nod, following Jisung to the side. His expression is serious yet gentle, the kind of look that tells you he’s been mulling over something important.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” he starts, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “About struggling to find work and trying to figure things out.”

You nod, slightly apprehensive about where this is going. “It’s been tough, yeah. But I’ll figure something out eventually.”

He looks down briefly, then back up at you, his dark eyes steady. “What if you didn’t have to figure it out alone? What if you gave being Seyeon’s nanny a try? Just for a day to start. See how it feels.”

The suggestion catches you off guard. “Me? Her nanny?”

Jisung nods, his expression hopeful but measured. “She adores you already, also she basically asked you. I mean, it’s not like I’ve got a huge list of options, but even if I did… I trust you. And clearly, Seyeon does too.”

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. “Jisung, I don’t know… I’ve never worked as a nanny before.”

He smiles softly, leaning back against the bench. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to care, and you already do. Plus, I’d be close by if you needed anything. My studio’s right in the area – also I would never leave you alone the first time with her only, she can be pretty pissed off the first time.”

You glance back at Seyeon, who’s sitting on a nearby bench, happily licking her ice cream and humming a tune to herself. The sight of her carefree joy tugs at your heartstrings.

“She does seem pretty attached already,” you admit with a small laugh. “But are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to step into something that’s too personal—”

“It’s not like that,” Jisung interrupts gently. “This isn’t just about convenience. I see how you are with her. She lights up around you in a way that makes me think... maybe this could work.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, weighing the idea. It’s unconventional, sure, but the sincerity in Jisung’s voice is undeniable. And the truth is, you could use the job, even if it’s temporary.

“I guess I could try it for a day,” you finally say, your voice cautious but open. “See how it goes.”

A relieved smile spreads across Jisung’s face. “That’s all I’m asking. If it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. But…thank you, y/n. Really.”

Before you can reply, Seyeon bounces over, her ice cream cone now just a sticky napkin and a smile. “What are you guys talking about?” she asks, her big eyes darting between the two of you.

Jisung crouches down to her level, a playful grin on his face. “y/n might spend more time with us soon. Would you like that, princess?”

Seyeon gasps, her face lighting up like fireworks. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Please, y/nie!”

You laugh, her enthusiasm infectious. “Okay, okay, calm down. Let’s try it out first and see if you don’t get tired of me.”

“Never!” Seyeon exclaims, throwing her arms around your legs in a tight hug.

Jisung straightens up, his smile softening. “Guess we’ll figure out the details tomorrow? Her mother is out for a couple days and I have her in my apartment.”

“Yeah,” you reply, ruffling Seyeon’s hair as she clings to you. “Tomorrow.”

The three of you start walking again, the sun dipping below the horizon as the city lights flicker on. It’s not the future you imagined for yourself, but maybe—just maybe—it’s a step toward something brighter.

The next morning arrives faster than expected, and you find yourself standing outside Jisung’s apartment, clutching your bag nervously. The sleek, modern building looms above you, its pristine facade reflecting the pale morning light. You take a deep breath, adjusting your jacket as you summon the courage to ring the doorbell.

Within seconds, the door swings open, revealing Jisung, who’s already dressed in casual yet stylish clothes—a hoodie layered under a lightweight jacket, paired with black joggers – you would never tell that he’s in his 30s. His signature round glasses sit on his nose, giving him a surprisingly approachable look despite his celebrity status.

“Morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “Right on time.”

“Yeah,” you reply, forcing a small laugh. “Didn’t want to be late for my… trial run.”

Jisung chuckles, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in. Seyeon’s been asking about you since she woke up.”

The apartment is as modern and stylish as you’d expect—minimalist furniture, neutral tones, and an impressive wall of windows that offer a panoramic view of Seoul. But despite the sleek design, there are signs of Seyeon’s presence everywhere, even if she doesn’t go there that often. A small table in the corner is covered in crayons and paper, her drawings pinned to the wall above it. A stuffed bunny sits on the couch, one of its ears slightly chewed on, and a trail of tiny sneakers leads toward her bedroom.

“She’s in her room getting dressed,” Jisung explains, closing the door behind you. “It’s her version of a fashion show, so… good luck getting her out anytime soon.”

You laugh, already feeling some of your nerves dissipate. “Sounds like a diva in the making.”

“She gets it from her mom,” Jisung says with a fond smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in his tone. Even if they are not together anymore he really loved her, things moved really slow in their relationship and after her he just had some casual hook ups around – nothing too deep. He’s scared of getting too into a relationship with someone. He clears his throat quickly, motioning toward the kitchen. “Want some coffee? I was just making a pot.”

“Sure, thanks,” you reply, following him into the open kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as Jisung pours two cups, sliding one across the counter to you.

As you sip your coffee, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind. “So… how do you want this to go today? Any specific rules or routines I should know about?”

Jisung leans against the counter, his hands wrapped around his mug. “Honestly, just be yourself. Seyeon’s pretty easygoing once she warms up to someone, and she already seems to adore you. She loves arts and crafts, playing dress-up, and reading, so you’ll probably spend a lot of time doing those things.”

You nod, making mental notes. “Got it. Anything I should avoid?”

He hesitates for a moment, his expression softening. “She might bring up her mom. It’s still a sensitive topic for her, so just… be patient if she does. I try not to push her too much, but sometimes she needs to talk about it.”

“Of course,” you say, your tone reassuring. “I’ll be careful.”

Before Jisung can respond, a loud “Tada!” echoes from the hallway, and Seyeon bursts into the room, twirling in a bright pink tutu over her striped pajamas. Her hair is an adorable mess, with a sparkly headband perched crookedly on top, a grey cat following behind her. The cat’s meowing toward them and it jump on top of the iland of the kitchen, you pass the fingers through the furr.

“What do you think, y/n?” she asks, striking a dramatic pose. “Am I a princess?”

“You’re the most fabulous princess I’ve ever seen,” you reply with a grin, the little girl’s laugh fill the room, at the excited sound the cat runs away making jisung lightly giggle – his pet friend still getting used by the presence of the loud daughter.

Seyeon beams, running over to grab your hand. “Come on! Let’s play dress-up!”

Jisung laughs as she drags you toward her room, her enthusiasm infectious. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, shaking his head with amusement. “I’ll be in the studio if you need me, just down the hallway.”

You’re barely able to wave goodbye before Seyeon pulls you into her room—a whirlwind of color and chaos. The walls are painted a soft lavender, and every surface is covered in toys, books, and more clothes than any five-year-old could possibly wear. She immediately begins pulling out tiaras, feather boas, and glittery shoes, chattering excitedly as she explains the “rules” of dress-up.

The morning passes in a blur of laughter and imagination. You and Seyeon transform into royalty, superheroes, and even pirates, complete with cardboard swords and eye patches. Her giggles are contagious, and for a while, you forget all about your nerves or the fact that this is technically a trial job.

When lunchtime rolls around, you head back to the kitchen, where Jisung is already preparing a simple meal of sandwiches and fruit. He glances up as you enter, his face lighting up at the sight of Seyeon riding on your back like a knight on a trusty steed.

“Looks like you two are having fun,” he says, setting the plates on the table.

“The best fun ever!” Seyeon declares, sliding off your back and plopping into a chair.

You smile, taking a seat across from her. “She’s got quite the imagination.”

Jisung watches the two of you with a thoughtful expression, his gaze lingering on how naturally you interact with his daughter. As you help Seyeon with her sandwich, he leans back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks for today,” he says quietly, meeting your eyes. “I know it’s just one day, but… I think this could really work.”

You glance at Seyeon, who’s happily munching away, then back at Jisung. A sense of warmth fills your chest as you realize you’re starting to feel at home in this little corner of their world.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. “I think it could too.”

After lunch, Seyeon insists on showing you her favorite books. She pulls you into the living room, climbing onto the plush couch with a stack of brightly colored storybooks in her arms. You settle in beside her as she excitedly flips through the pages, pointing out her favorite characters and scenes.

“This one’s about a bunny who gets lost but finds his way home,” she says, holding up a book with a soft pastel cover. “Mommy reads it to me all the time.”

Her mention of her mother comes so naturally that it catches you off guard, but you remember Jisung’s advice to let Seyeon talk about it if she wants to. “It sounds like a beautiful story,” you say gently. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

Seyeon nods enthusiastically, scooting closer to you. As you read, she leans against your side, her small hand clutching your arm. By the time you finish the book, she’s curled up next to you, her eyes drooping with sleep.

Jisung steps out of his studio, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. He pauses when he sees the two of you on the couch, a smile spreading across his face. “She’s out, huh?”

“Almost,” you whisper, glancing down at her. “She had a big morning.”

He nods, walking over to lift her gently into his arms. She stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling against his shoulder. Jisung looks at you with a mix of gratitude and something else—something warmer, deeper.

“You’re a natural,” he says quietly as he carries Seyeon to her room.

You follow him to the hallway, leaning against the doorframe as he tucks her into bed. He moves with such care, brushing a strand of hair from her face and placing her stuffed bunny next to her. Watching him, you realize just how deeply he loves his daughter, how much he’s trying to give her the stability she needs.

When he steps back into the hallway, he closes Seyeon’s door with a soft click and turns to you. “Thanks for being so patient with her,” he says. “She’s… well, she’s been through a lot. More than a five-year-old should.”

“She’s a wonderful kid,” you reply honestly. “And she clearly adores you.”

Jisung leans against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to do right by her, you know? After the divorce… I don’t want her to feel like she’s missing out on anything.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his words. “You’re doing your best, Jisung. And it shows. She’s happy, and that’s what matters.”

He looks at you, his gaze steady. “I meant what I said earlier. I think this could work. You and Seyeon—it’s like you’ve known each other forever.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “She’s easy to love.”

Jisung’s eyes soften. “She thinks the same about you.”

There’s a pause, a quiet moment where the weight of the conversation hangs in the air. Jisung seems to be considering something, his expression thoughtful.

“If you’re willing,” he says after a moment, “I’d like to make this more than just a trial run. I know it’s only been a day, but… I feel like this is the right fit. For her, and for you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his sincerity. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s a big responsibility.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice firm yet kind. “And I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But more than that… I trust you. And so does Seyeon.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of his words settling in your chest. It’s not just a job—it’s a chance to be part of something meaningful, to help this little family heal and grow.

“Okay,” you say finally, a small smile forming. “I’ll do it.”

Jisung’s face lights up with relief and gratitude. “Thank you, y/n. Really.”

Just then, Seyeon’s soft voice calls out from her room, breaking the moment. “Daddy? Y/n?”

Jisung chuckles, pushing off the wall. “Looks like someone’s not quite asleep yet.”

You laugh, following him back to Seyeon’s room. As you step inside, you see her sitting up in bed, her bunny clutched tightly to her chest.

“Did you say yes, y/n?” she asks, her voice laced with sleepiness and hope.

You walk over to her, crouching down so you’re at eye level. “I did. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Seyeon’s face lights up, and she throws her arms around your neck. “Yay! I love you, y/n.”

Your heart swells at her words, and you glance up at Jisung, who’s watching with a soft smile. In that moment, you realize you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were looking for—a place where you truly belong.

The days quickly settle into a new rhythm. The mornings when Seyeon is at his apartment, you arrive at Jisung’s apartment to find Seyeon waiting for you with excitement bubbling in her tiny frame. Her favorite game is to guess what you’re wearing before you come in—a little ritual she made up—and she squeals with delight when she’s right.

“Pink sweater today! I knew it!” she announces one morning, hopping from foot to foot as you step inside.

“You’re getting too good at this,” you reply, laughing as you hang your bag by the door.

Jisung, already sipping his coffee at the kitchen counter, greets you with a relaxed smile. “She’s been talking about you since she woke up.”

“It’s mutual,” you tease, giving him a mock-serious look. “She’s got me wrapped around her little finger.”

Seyeon beams, running off to grab her crayons and sketchbook. While she sets up at the living room table, Jisung leans against the counter, his gaze warm but thoughtful.

“She really does adore you,” he says softly. “I’ve never seen her take to someone like this before.”

You shrug, a little flustered by his sincerity. “She’s easy to love.”

“So are you,” he replies without thinking, and the words hang in the air for a moment. His eyes widen slightly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud, and he quickly turns back to his coffee. “I mean—uh—you’re great with her. That’s all I meant.”

You chuckle, letting him off the hook. “Relax, Jisung. I’ll take the compliment.”

As the weeks pass, your bond with Seyeon grows stronger. You spend hours doing crafts, reading stories, and exploring the nearby parks. She introduces you to her favorite playground and insists on teaching you how to climb the jungle gym, which ends with her laughing hysterically as you awkwardly navigate the narrow bars.

One evening, as you’re helping Seyeon clean up her paints after an afternoon of finger painting, she pauses and looks up at you with her big, expressive eyes.

“Y/n,” she says, her voice small and serious. “Do you think Mommy would like you?”

The question catches you off guard, and you glance over at Jisung, who’s working at the kitchen table. He’s heard her too, his posture stiffening slightly as he waits for your response.

You crouch down to Seyeon’s level, meeting her gaze. “I don’t know, sweetie,” you say honestly. “But I hope so.”

Seyeon seems to think about this for a moment, then nods as if she’s made up her mind. “I think she would. You’re nice. And you make Daddy smile.”

Your breath catches at her words, and you glance at Jisung again. He’s looking at you now, his expression unreadable but soft. There’s something unspoken in the way his gaze lingers, something that makes your heart race.

“Thank you, Seyeon,” you whisper, giving her a gentle hug. “That means a lot.”

It’s a stormy afternoon, the kind where the rain drums against the windows in a steady rhythm, casting a gray haze over the city. You’re busy tidying up Seyeon’s play area when you notice she’s unusually quiet. Normally, she’d be coloring or arranging her toys into elaborate scenes, but today, she’s sitting on the couch, hugging her stuffed bunny with a somber expression.

“Hey, sweetie,” you say gently, walking over to her. “What’s wrong? You’ve been so quiet today.”

Seyeon doesn’t answer right away. She shifts slightly, burying her face in her bunny. After a moment, she mumbles, “I want Mommy.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water. Seyeon has mentioned missing her mom before is not a new, in these cases you would play a song for making her feel better or just asking her to do something to keep her mind away from the hard times when she is away from her mother - even for just a couple days like their divorce's papers mention. But this time, there’s a weight to her voice that makes your chest ache.

“Of course you do,” you say, crouching down to her level. “It’s okay to miss her, Seyeon.”

She finally looks up at you, her big eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Mommy and Daddy were yelling,” she says, her voice trembling. “I heard them on the phone. Mommy was crying. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

You pause, your heart breaking for the little girl. It doesn’t take much to piece together what must have happened—Jisung and his ex-wife must have had an argument, and Seyeon overheard it. You don’t know the details, but it’s clear it’s left her feeling hurt and confused.

“I’m so sorry you heard that, sweetie,” you say softly. “That must have been really hard.”

Seyeon nods, her lip trembling. “It was scary. I don’t want Daddy to be mad at Mommy.”

You sit down beside her, giving her space but staying close enough that she knows you’re there. “Sometimes grown-ups get upset with each other, and they say things they don’t mean,” you explain. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t love you. Your mommy and daddy both love you so much, Seyeon. That’s the most important thing.”

“I still want Mommy,” she whispers, clutching her bunny tighter.

You’re about to respond when Jisung walks in from the hallway. He must have heard part of the conversation because his expression is filled with a mix of guilt and concern. He kneels beside you and reaches out for Seyeon, but she shrinks away, clutching her bunny even tighter.

“Seyeonnie, baby,” Jisung says softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry you heard that. Daddy didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Seyeon shakes her head, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “You were mean to Mommy! I don’t want to stay here! I want her!”

The words hit Jisung hard, and you can see the pain in his eyes. He glances at you, silently asking for help.

“Seyeon,” you say gently, shifting closer to her. “It’s okay to feel upset. But maybe we can talk about it together. Would you like to tell Daddy how you’re feeling?”

She sniffles, her tiny body trembling with emotion. “I don’t want to talk to Daddy,” she says quietly. Then, looking at you, she adds, “And I don’t want to talk to you either. I just want Mommy.”

The rejection stings, but you remind yourself that this isn’t about you. It’s about Seyeon needing to process her feelings in her own way. It's a part of your current job: being able to tell when their feelings are real or just overwhelming by things around her.

Jisung sits back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, I’ll call Mommy, and we can figure out a time for you to see her soon, okay? But right now, we’re here for you. Me and y/n both.”

Seyeon doesn’t respond, turning away and curling up on the couch. Jisung looks at you again, his expression helpless.

You stand up and gently place a hand on his arm. “Let’s give her a little space,” you whisper.

He nods reluctantly, and the two of you step into the kitchen. Once you’re out of earshot, Jisung leans against the counter, his shoulders slumping. “I messed up,” he mutters. “I never should have let her hear that.”

“It’s not your fault, Jisung,” you say quietly. “These things happen. She’s just overwhelmed right now.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with worry. “What do I do? She doesn’t even want to look at me.”

“Give her time,” you suggest. “Let her know you’re here when she’s ready to talk. And maybe call her mom—just hearing her voice might help Seyeon feel better. She will swing around jisung don't worry.”

He nods, pulling out his phone. As he dials, you glance back at the living room. Seyeon is still curled up on the couch, her bunny held close, but something tells you she’s listening.

A little later, after Jisung has arranged a call between Seyeon and her mom, you bring over a small plate of cookies and a glass of milk. You don’t say anything, just set it on the table near her and sit down in a chair a few feet away. Slowly, Seyeon uncurls, reaching for a cookie.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers after a few moments, her voice barely audible.

You smile softly, your heart aching with tenderness. “You don’t have to be sorry, sweetie. It’s okay to feel sad or mad. We all feel that way sometimes.”

Seyeon nods, nibbling on the cookie. Then, tentatively, she scoots closer to you. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” you say, your voice steady and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, that’s enough. And as Seyeon leans her head against your arm, you glance over at Jisung, who gives you a small, grateful smile. Together, you’ll help Seyeon through this—one step at a time.

It’s late evening when your phone buzzes with a message from Jisung. You’re already home, curled up on your couch, replaying the events of the day in your mind. You studied all day for the upcoming exams, all day in that for walls of your apartment.

Jisung: Hey, are you free tonight? Could you come over? Seyeon’s not here, but… I’d really like to talk.

You stare at the message for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. It’s unusual for him to ask for your company when Seyeon isn’t around. That makes you slightly nervous but after a moment of hesitation, you reply.

You: Sure. I’ll be there in 20. You: should I be worried?

You chew your nail lightly, three dots moving on the screen as you start to get really agitated about what could actually mean. Does he want to end up things? does he think it's not necessary for him to have a nanny?

Jisung: silly, no, just wanna talk :)

When you arrive at Jisung’s apartment, he greets you at the door, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion. He’s dressed casually in a hoodie and sweatpants, his hair slightly disheveled, and you can tell immediately that he’s been overthinking.

“Thanks for coming,” he says softly, stepping aside to let you in.

“Of course,” you reply, setting your bag down by the door. “How’s Seyeon?”

“She’s with her mom this week, as usual,” he explains, leading you to the couch. “I thought it might be better for her to spend some time there, especially after what happened last Sunday. But she's coming tomorrow morning so, you come to work like always.”

You nod, sitting down beside him. “That makes sense. How are you holding up?”

He exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? Not great. I feel like I let her down. She heard things she shouldn’t have, and now she doesn’t even want to be around me.”

“She’s a little girl, Jisung,” you say gently. “She’s still figuring out how to handle her emotions. It's not easy to be a parent and it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “I know you’re right, but it’s hard not to feel like I’m failing her. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

You place a reassuring hand on his arm. “No parent has it all figured out. The fact that you care so much about her shows what a great dad you are. And she knows that, even if she’s upset right now.”

Jisung leans back against the couch, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about that day—about how you handled everything. You were so patient with her, even when she pushed you away. You’re amazing with her, y/n.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words. “I just want what’s best for her. She’s a wonderful kid.”

He turns his head to look at you, his expression soft. “You’re wonderful too. I don’t know what I would’ve done today without you. Since the day we met at the zoo, everything with you seems to.. find the right place.”

There’s a long pause, the weight of his words settling between you. Finally, he sits up straighter, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Y/n, I didn’t ask you over just to vent,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been thinking… Seyeon’s been through so much with the divorce, and I know I can’t fix everything for her. But having you around—it’s made such a difference. For her and for me.”

You blink, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze. “Jisung…”

“I don’t just mean as her nanny,” he continues quickly, his words tumbling out. “I mean… as someone I can rely on. Someone who’s already become such an important part of our lives. I don’t want to cross any boundaries or make things weird, but—”

“You’re not,” you interrupt gently, placing a hand on his knee to calm his rambling. “I understand what you’re trying to say.”

His shoulders relax slightly, but his eyes remain fixed on yours. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re more than just Seyeon’s nanny to me. And I don’t know where this could go, but I’d like to find out. If you’re willing.”

The room feels suddenly smaller, the air charged with unspoken possibilities. You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest, his eyes so big and soft makes you shivers.

“I care about you too, Jisung,” you admit softly. “And I care about Seyeon. I want to be here for both of you, but… we need to be careful. For her sake.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I agree. She comes first, always. But I don’t want to let this—whatever this is—slip away.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” you say gently.

Jisung nods, relief and hope flickering in his eyes. “One step at a time,” he agrees.

The next morning, you arrive at Jisung’s apartment right on time, ready to start your day with Seyeon. As you step inside, you’re greeted by the familiar hum of activity—the soft sound of music playing from the speakers, the faint smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen, and Seyeon’s little voice drifting from her play area.

She’s sitting on the floor in her pajamas, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. When she spots you, her face lights up in a way that makes your heart swell.

“y/n!” she exclaims, running over to you with her bunny clutched in one hand. “Look! I made a picnic for my friends!”

You crouch down to her level, admiring the intricate arrangement of plates, cups, and plastic food. “This looks amazing, Seyeon! Did you set this all up by yourself?”

She nods proudly, her curls bouncing. “Uh-huh! But you’re late, so we already ate the sandwiches.”

You gasp playfully. “Oh no! I missed the sandwiches? What am I going to eat now?”

Seyeon giggles, pulling you by the hand to sit down with her. “You can have dessert! We have cake and cookies.”

Jisung walks in at that moment, a mug of coffee in his hand. He leans against the doorway, watching the two of you with a soft smile. “Looks like you’ve been invited to the fanciest picnic in town,” he teases.

A blush spread on your face, remembering about the conversation that you had with Jisung the night before, “Only the best for me,” you reply with a grin, pretending to nibble on an invisible cookie. Seyeon bursts into another fit of giggles, clearly delighted by the attention.

The morning passes in a blur of laughter and playtime. You and Seyeon build a towering castle out of blocks, only for her to gleefully knock it down moments later. She insists on showing you her latest drawings, and you listen intently as she explains the story behind each one.

But it’s during her naptime that the moment when jisung is casually off work on his productions session.. After reading her favourite bedtime story, you tuck her in, smoothing the blanket over her small frame. Her eyes are heavy with sleep, but just as you’re about to leave, she reaches out and grabs your hand.

“y/n?” she whispers, her voice small and drowsy.

“Yes, sweetie?”

She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Do you think Daddy loves Mommy still?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. You kneel down beside her bed, meeting her wide, searching eyes.

“I think your daddy loves you more than anything in the whole world,” you say gently. “And sometimes, grown-ups love each other in different ways. But no matter what, he and your mommy will always work together to make sure you’re happy and loved.”

She seems to mull over your words, her eyelids fluttering as sleep begins to take over. “Do you love Daddy?” she mumbles, her words slurring slightly.

Your breath catches in your throat. “I think your daddy is a very special person,” you say carefully. “And I’m really happy I get to spend time with you and him.”

Seyeon hums in acknowledgment, her grip on your hand loosening as she finally drifts off. You sit there for a moment longer, brushing a stray curl from her forehead before quietly slipping out of the room. The realisation hits hard, she asked you a question that really makes you in difficulty, your hands are lightly sweaty after the careful words that you let hanging in her room.

You walk out closing the door behind you, as you’re cleaning up in the living room, Jisung comes in from his studio. He’s wearing his headphones around his neck and looks a little more relaxed than he did yesterday.

“She’s asleep?” he asks, leaning against the couch.

“Out like a light,” you reply with a smile. “She was so busy today, she didn’t stand a chance.”

Jisung chuckles, his eyes softening. “Thank you for being so patient with her. I know she can be a handful sometimes.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” you say, brushing off his praise. “And she adores you, Jisung. You’re doing a great job, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”

There’s a pause, the air between you warm and comfortable. Jisung sits down beside you, his gaze flickering to the kitchen before settling back on you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he starts, his voice quieter now. “About taking things one step at a time. I just want you to know how much it means to me that you’re here. Not just for Seyeon, but for me too.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. “I’m happy to be here,” you admit softly.

The days pass, and your bond with Seyeon—and with Jisung—deepens. Seyeon grows more comfortable around you, often seeking you out for everything from help with her drawings to impromptu dance performances in the living room. Jisung, in turn, seems to relax more in your presence, his usual walls lowering bit by bit.

One afternoon, after a particularly lively dance session with Seyeon that left you both giggling on the carpet, Jisung calls you into the kitchen. He’s preparing a snack for Seyeon, but the way he keeps glancing at you suggests he has something on his mind.

“y/n, can we talk for a second?” he asks, his voice cautious but kind.

“Of course,” you reply, leaning against the counter. “What’s up?”

He sets down the knife he’s been using to slice fruit and turns to face you fully. “I’ve been thinking about how much things have changed since you started working with us. You’ve brought so much stability into Seyeon’s life. And mine.”

You feel a mix of pride and nervousness at his words. “I’m glad I’ve been able to help,” you say sincerely. “She’s such a special little girl. And you’re doing an amazing job as her dad.”

“I know we agreed to take things slow,” he continues, his gaze steady but vulnerable. “But I can’t ignore how much you mean to both of us. I care about you, y/n. A lot. And I want to know if you feel the same.”

For a moment, the room feels impossibly still. Then, you nod, a small, shy smile spreading across your face.

“I do, Jisung,” you admit. “But I’ve been trying to be careful—for Seyeon’s sake.”

He nods, his expression softening. “I know. And I appreciate that more than you know. I just… I don’t want to let this slip away. I want us to figure this out—together.”

Before you can respond, a small voice interrupts from the doorway.

“Daddy?”

Both of you turn to see Seyeon standing there, her bunny clutched to her chest. Her hair is a little messy from her earlier playtime, and her wide eyes dart between the two of you.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” Jisung says gently, crouching down to her level. “What’s wrong?”

Seyeon hesitates, then shuffles over to him. “Can y/n stay for dinner? And maybe… can we all watch a movie after?" The innocence of her request tugs at your heart, and Jisung glances up at you with a smile.

“What do you say?” he asks.

You kneel down beside them, matching Seyeon’s level. “I’d love to stay. But only if I get to pick the movie,” you tease, earning a giggle from the little girl.

As Seyeon throws her arms around both of you, pulling you into a spontaneous group hug, you realize how much this little family means to you—and how much you’re starting to mean to them.

Dinner that evening feels warm and lively, the kind of atmosphere that wraps around you like a cozy blanket. Jisung insists on cooking, and though the meal is simple—grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup—it feels perfect. Seyeon sits at the table, swinging her legs beneath her chair as she chatters about her favorite animals and what movie she thinks you should all watch.

“I think we should watch Moana!” Seyeon declares, her cheeks puffing as she takes a bite of her sandwich.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just watch that last weekend?”

“But y/n hasn’t watched it with us!” Seyeon protests, her pout making you chuckle.

“I’d love to watch Moana,” you say, playfully nudging her. “But only if you promise to sing the songs with me.”

Her face lights up, and she practically bounces in her seat. “Okay! I’ll sing the Maui parts, and you can be Moana!”

Jisung laughs, shaking his head. “Guess I’m stuck being the chicken, huh?”

Seyeon giggles, and the sound fills the room, light and contagious. You catch Jisung’s eye across the table, and for a moment, the two of you share a look—one that feels like a silent agreement, a shared understanding that this little moment is something special.

After dinner, you all settle into the living room. Seyeon grabs her favorite blanket and curls up between you and Jisung on the couch. The lights are dimmed, the opening scene of Moana playing on the TV.

Seyeon sings along enthusiastically, her little voice bright and unrestrained. You join in at her insistence, your laughter mingling with hers as you both belt out the lyrics. Jisung, true to his word, adds exaggerated squawks whenever Hei Hei, the chicken, is on screen, earning peals of laughter from his daughter.

At one point, Seyeon leans her head against your arm, her tiny hand resting on your lap. The gesture is small but significant, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. When you glance over at Jisung, you notice he’s watching the two of you with a soft expression, his smile tinged with something deeper. His hand moves over your shoulder behind the couch, tracing pattern on your skin; shivers running down your spine.

As the movie progresses, Seyeon’s energy begins to wane. By the time Moana reaches Te Fiti, she’s fast asleep, her head now resting on your shoulder. You glance down at her peaceful face, her bunny tucked securely in her arms.

“She’s out,” you whisper, careful not to wake her.

Jisung nods, a fond smile on his lips. “She had a big day. And I think all that singing wore her out.”

You laugh softly, shifting slightly to make sure Seyeon is comfortable. “Do you want me to move her to her bed?”

Jisung shakes his head. “No, let her stay for a bit. She looks comfortable.”

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the credits of the movie rolling on the screen. Seyeon’s gentle breathing fills the room, a steady rhythm that feels grounding.

“Thank you for staying tonight,” Jisung says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look over at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the TV. “I’m happy to be here,” you reply honestly.

Jisung hesitates for a moment before reaching out, his hand brushing against yours on the couch. The touch is light, tentative, but it sends a wave of warmth through you. When you don’t pull away, he intertwines his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You smile at him, your heart full as you glance down at Seyeon. In this moment, surrounded by quiet warmth and the soft hum of contentment, you feel like you’ve found a place where you truly belong.

Jisung carefully scoops Seyeon into his arms, her bunny still clutched tightly to her chest. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her little face peaceful as she nestles closer to her father. He glances at you with a small smile before carrying her to her room.

You stay on the couch, tidying up the throw blankets and pillows, unsure if you should take your leave or wait for him to return. The quiet hum of the apartment makes you feel strangely calm, and yet, there’s a nervous energy lingering in the air.

A few minutes later, Jisung emerges from Seyeon’s room, shutting the door softly behind him. He looks tired but content, his hands resting on his hips as he walks back toward you.

“Is she okay?” you ask softly.

“Out like a light,” he replies with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “She didn’t even let go of that bunny.”

You smile, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Well, I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

Jisung’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of hesitation and something deeper flashing across his face. “Wait,” he says, his voice quiet but urgent. “Can you… stay a little longer? Just me and you?”

His request catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. But the trill of being alone with him keeps you rooted in place.

“Okay,” you say softly, setting your bag back down. “I can stay.”

The room feels quieter, the hum of conversation and laughter from earlier fading into a gentle stillness. Jisung steps closer, his gaze searching yours, as if trying to find the words that have been building between you both. His hand brushes against yours lightly, a soft touch that lingers a moment too long to be innocent.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper against the space between you. There’s a hesitation in his eyes, a vulnerability that pulls at your heart. You feel an electric spark, a tender moment that feels like it belongs only to you both.

“You didn’t have to ask,” you respond quietly, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. “I wanted to stay.”

He smiles faintly, his lips parting just slightly as if savoring the words you’ve given him. The air shifts, thick with unspoken desires and a quiet understanding that needs no elaboration. Your heart beats faster, anticipation making every breath feel heavier.

“Good,” he says simply, his voice smooth and low, a melody in itself. His hand slides fully into yours, fingers intertwining in a way that feels natural, almost inevitable. “Just you and me.”

Jisung move even closer, the space between you vanishing as his confidence grows. His gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes holding yours with a quiet intensity that sends shivers down your spine. Without a word, he lifts a hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a thrill through you. His breath brushes against your skin, warm and inviting. “Because I don’t want to rush this.”

You nod gently, heart fluttering as your fingers tighten around his. The world around you feels distant, every sense focused solely on him—on the way he looks at you, the way his presence consumes the room. His smile deepens, a playful glint lighting up his expression as he leans in just a bit more, the space between you almost nonexistent.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs, his lips a breath away from yours. “I don’t want to waste another second.”

Your breath catches, the heat in the room intensifying. His gaze is captivating, his touch electric, and the way he holds you makes every moment feel like something sacred. You tilt your head slightly, allowing him to close the distance. His lips press softly against yours, a tender kiss that speaks of patience and desire—a perfect balance of softness and passion. His lips barely brushing against yours. He can feel you gasp slightly at the sudden action, but he holds your chin with one hand and keeps you close, prolonging the kiss for a few more seconds before pulling away, a smirk on his face. "Not so talkative now, are we?"

You giggles, blushing in face as you cover your mouth a little, "you just kissed me! what you wanted me to say? kiss me more?"

His smirk grows bigger, "that doesn't sounds so bad-" you grabs lightly the sides of his hoodie, clenching your fingers as you is breathless. Pulling him for another kiss, he lets out a small gasp of surprise, but then melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. His arms wrapping around your waist, bringing you flush against his body. This time the kiss is more intense, deeper, hungrier.

You ends up on his lap, straddling it and his hands vanishing on your curves, the arch of your back to groping your ass gently, his hands makes you shivers.

A little gasp leaving your lips when his fingers digs on your rear, "u-uhm jisung.." you mumble, your lips for how badly you want to move away to stop the passionate moments, they keeps asking for more from jisung.

“Hm?” He hums as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his so needy, so messy, and you’re loving every second of it, even if you cannot stop thinking about his daughter being just in the room down the hallway. 

You move your lips apart letting his tongue meeting his in need, his hands pressing down your hips against his lap, you can feel his hardness through his clothes and it’s so damn sexy that your pussy start to pulse. “Seyeon.. she might.. wake up..”

Gasps between kisses, your lips are locked with him as he suck gently your tongue making you moan under your breath, he’s such a good kisser.

Before either of you can say more, the sound of a tiny voice cuts through the moment.

“Daddy! I need you!”

Seyeon’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, drifts out from her bedroom down the hall.

Both of you freeze in place, eyes wide and suddenly aware of the situation, you’re still on his lap, he’s still hard as hell and his hands are holding your ass.

“Oh no,” Jisung mutters, glancing toward her room. “Not now.”

You giggle softly, a nervous laugh that’s quickly overtaken by a chuckle. “You have to go,” you whisper, trying to hold back the laughter bubbling up. “She’s calling for you.”

Jisung groans dramatically, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before shaking his head. “She couldn’t have waited just five more minutes?”

“I think those five minutes would’ve take us in another situation,” you respond with a smirk, you move from his lap, standing up and fixing your clothes at the best. “Duty calls.”

He sighs, turning toward her room. “I’ll be right there, sweet cheeks!”

You make a beeline for the front door, grabbing your bag in a hurry, trying to stifle your laughter as you hear Seyeon giggling softly through the wall.

You poke your head back into the living room just as Jisung kneels beside her bed, trying his best to soothe her back to sleep. His expression is slightly flustered, and you can’t help but laugh one last time at the sheer comical timing.

“Goodnight, Jisung!” you call out with a wink. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” he replies with a sheepish grin, though his voice carries a touch of relief when you finally step out the door.

As the door clicks shut behind you, the sound of Seyeon’s laughter and Jisung’s soothing voice floats into the night, and you can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Maybe next time, there will be fewer interruptions. But for tonight, the memory of that unexpected moment will stay with you.

It’s been almost seven months that you work for Jisung, since that day at the zoo you’re life almost switched. You passed almost every day waiting for the Saturday morning to see that little girl and her, very hot, daddy. Dawns with a quiet stillness in Jisung’s apartment. You arrive early to find Seyeon still curled up in bed, her little face flushed with fever and her bunny clutched tightly in her arms. Her soft coughs echo through the room, and it’s clear she’s not feeling her usual energetic self.

He told you by text that she was not feeling very well but the mother had to go on a business trip and she had to crash at his place for the rest of the weekend. Jisung is already in the kitchen, his own expression worn with worry, a damp towel pressed to his forehead. His hair is slightly messy, and his usually sharp eyes are dulled with fatigue. He turns when he hears your footsteps, his smile tired but appreciative.

“Good morning,” he greets you softly. “Sorry you had to see me like this.”

You step into the kitchen and take the towel from his hand, gently replacing it with a fresh one. “You look worse than Seyeon,” you tease lightly, though your concern is genuine. “Are you okay?”

He chuckles weakly, leaning against the counter. “Not exactly the most glamorous morning, huh?”

“No, but someone has to be the adult,” you say with a grin, though you glance over at Seyeon with a frown. “Let me handle her. You rest.”

“I would kiss you if I could,” He pout lightly toward you, almost playfully trying to steal a breif kiss from your lips.

Your giggles making him feel lightly better, “Don’t even try.”

Jisung sighs, grateful for your presence, and moves toward the couch. He collapses onto it with a sigh, his breathing steady but slow, clearly feeling the effects of whatever sickness has taken hold of both him and his daughter.

You walk softly into Seyeon’s room, pulling back the curtains to let the morning light in gently. She blinks up at you, her little face pale but her bright eyes still wide with curiosity.

“Hi, sweet cheeks,” you murmur, sitting down beside her bed. “How are you feeling?”

She sniffles, hugging her bunny tighter. “Daddy’s not feeling good either.”

You glance toward the living room, where Jisung lies sprawled out, looking almost worse than she does. “Yeah, well, Daddy might need some extra care too.” You ruffle her hair gently, trying to lift her spirits. “Let’s get you some breakfast, okay?”

Seyeon nods softly, her tiny hand wrapping around yours as you help her sit up. Her fever is still high, but her energy, though subdued, is still there. You prepare a light breakfast—warm soup, soft toast, and water—and sit with her at the dining table.

Meanwhile, Jisung has managed to find the strength to make his way to the kitchen, his movements slow but determined. He leans against the doorway, watching you with a quiet admiration, a small smile touching his lips as you care for his daughter.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from his own illness.

You glance up, offering him a reassuring smile. “You’re not alone in this, Jisung. She needs both of you right now.”

He breathes out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing at your words. “Thank you, y/n. For everything.”

“It’s what friends do,” you reply, though your heart aches a little at how fragile the moment feels. Taking care of them both—so sick and vulnerable—is more than just a task. It feels personal. It feels like family.

Also the fact that you called him ‘friend’ makes a fool out of you.

As the day stretches on, you find yourself handling both Jisung and Seyeon with gentle care, managing meals, administering medicine, and even tucking them into bed for naps. They may be ill, but there’s a quiet warmth that fills the apartment, a sense of support and togetherness that feels like a foundation for something more.

When the evening arrives, Seyeon is finally asleep in her room, and Jisung, though still weak, sits upright on the couch. You’re back in the kitchen, making tea for the both of you, the space calming and steady amidst the chaos of the day.

Jisung watches you from the doorway again, his eyes filled with gratitude and something softer—something you recognize as something deeper.

“y/n,” he starts softly, “You didn’t have to stay this long.”

You glance over your shoulder with a small smile. “I wanted to. And I’ll stay as long as you both need me.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful, and then softly says, “You’re incredible.”

You shake your head, pouring the tea. “Not really. Just doing what anyone would.”

But deep down, you know that’s not true. What you’re doing is more than just helping. It’s being there, fully present in a way that neither Jisung nor Seyeon seem to take for granted. And as you set the tea in front of him, watching him take a slow sip, you realize that even amidst sickness, something beautiful is quietly blooming between the three of you.

The evening has settled in a quiet calm after the whirlwind of the day. Seyeon is tucked into her bed, her fever finally lowering thanks to the care and attention she received. You sit beside Jisung on the couch, his body still warm, though not as feverish as earlier.

“I should probably get going soon,” you say softly, your voice gentle as you glance toward him. “You need rest too.”

Jisung leans back against the couch cushions, his eyes closing for a moment. “Just... a little longer,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “Please?”

You hesitate, he looks so exhausted, so desperately in need of comfort, that you can’t bring yourself to leave just yet. “Okay,” you whisper, settling beside him on his bed again. “Just for a bit.”

His room is quite big for the apartment that he has, he has a beautiful window that gives the view to the city, a walk-in wardrobe that you can bet filled with crazy outfits that he used for his idol’s life, so many guitars on the wall. And a picture of him, his little girl and probably the ex-wife under a cottage, he’s playing the guitar looking lovely at the mother of Seyeon with her on her lap – they look so.. happy to you.

He lets out a breath, visibly relaxing as you stay close. The warmth of your presence is grounding for him, a welcome relief from the chaos of the past few days.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice softer than before. “For everything.”

You reach out instinctively, brushing a hand against his forehead to check his temperature again. “Still a bit warm,” you note, though it’s not dangerously high anymore. “But at least your fever’s coming down.”

Jisung hums in agreement, his hand instinctively finding yours. His fingers lace with yours, squeezing gently as if grounding himself in your touch. He doesn’t let go this time, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he leans into you, his head resting on your shoulder.

“It’s nice,” he murmurs softly. “Having you here.”

The simple admission surprises you, but it doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Instead, it feels natural, like two people seeking comfort in each other’s presence without the need for words.

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence stretches for a few moments, the world outside fading into the background. You run your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, soothing him in a way that feels effortless. His breathing slows, the warmth of his body against yours steadying with each passing second.

“Stay with me tonight?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but the request is clear.

Your heart skips a beat, and though you’d considered leaving earlier, now the thought feels impossible. The tender moment shared between you, his vulnerability, the way he clings to you… it creates a sense of intimacy that feels more profound than anything you’ve experienced before.

“What if Seyeon finds out that I am here? I don’t want to hurt her,” you answer softly.

His arms moves around your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap, your hands still between his curls as his sick eyes find yours, “she doesn’t have to know, we will tell her that you came earlier than usual.”

His grip tightens just a little more. You lay back with him, your arm draped around his waist, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

It’s quiet again, except for the occasional sound of his breathing slowing into a peaceful rhythm. You stay like that, cradling him in your care, the weight of the moment grounding and beautiful.

Jisung shifts slightly, his body instinctively seeking more comfort in the warmth of your presence. His head dips, and before you realize it, he’s nestled against your chest, his cheek pressed to the soft fabric of your shirt. His breathing is steady but heavy with exhaustion, the fever leaving him unusually vulnerable.

You stiffen for a moment, caught off guard by the intimacy of the gesture. But when you glance down and see his peaceful expression—eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his lashes casting delicate shadows against his flushed cheeks—you feel your heart soften.

“Jisung,” you whisper gently, brushing your fingers through his hair to see if his fever has spiked again. His temperature is still warm but manageable, the worst of it seemingly passed for now.

Instead of waking, he hums softly, his hand gripping the fabric of your shirt as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. The gesture tugs at your heartstrings, his vulnerability clear in the way he clings to you, seeking solace even in his sleep.

You sigh softly, wrapping your arms around him with a tenderness you didn’t know you could offer so easily. “You’re really something else,” you murmur, your lips curving into a gentle smile as you stroke his hair rhythmically.

His breathing evens out further, and the weight of his body against yours becomes a grounding comfort. As the moments pass, you lean your head back against the pillow, letting the quiet intimacy of the situation settle over you.

It’s not what you expected when you agreed to stay, but now, with Jisung pressed close, his warmth radiating against you, it feels like exactly where you’re meant to be. You close your eyes, resting your chin lightly on the top of his head, and let the stillness carry you both into a rare and cherished peace.

The first rays of sunlight seep through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the room. You stir slightly, the ache in your back and the unfamiliar weight on your chest bringing you back to consciousness. Blinking a few times, you glance down and freeze.

Jisung is still draped over you, his head nestled against your chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His soft, even breaths tickle your skin, and his tousled hair brushes against your chin. It’s a startlingly intimate position, and your cheeks flush as the reality of the situation sets in.

You try to move subtly, hoping not to wake him, but the slight shift causes him to stir. He groans softly, his face nuzzling against you like a contented cat seeking more warmth.

“Jisung,” you whisper, your voice a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. “You’re… still on top of me.”

He hums in response, clearly not fully awake. “Hmm… comfy,” he mutters, his voice muffled against you.

You suppress a laugh, shaking your head as you gently pat his shoulder. “Come on, sleepyhead. You’re crushing me.”

His eyes flutter open slowly, his gaze hazy and unfocused as he registers where he is—and more importantly, where you are. His face turns crimson in an instant, and he bolts upright, his disheveled hair only adding to the hilarity of the moment.

“Oh my God,” he blurts out, his voice hoarse with lingering sleep. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

You sit up too, waving a hand to stop him before he spirals into full-blown panic. “It’s fine, Jisung. You were sick, and we must’ve fallen asleep like that.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, his ears still red. “Still… I should’ve been more aware. That’s so—”

“Unexpected? Sure. But it’s not the end of the world,” you interrupt, giving him a teasing grin. “Besides, you were pretty cute all snuggled up like that.”

His jaw drops slightly, and he stares at you, completely flustered. “Cute?! I—no—I mean—”

You laugh, the sound breaking through the awkward tension. “Relax, Jisung. It’s not a big deal.”

Just then, a small voice calls out from down the hall.

“Daddy? Where are you?”

The two of you exchange wide-eyed looks before scrambling off the bed. Jisung fumbles to fix his hair and grab his hoodie while you quickly smooth down your clothes, both of you rushing to look presentable.

“I’ll get her,” Jisung says, his voice still tinged with embarrassment, as he heads out of the room.

As you follow him, you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of the situation. Despite the awkwardness, there’s an undeniable warmth that lingers between you—a connection that feels stronger than before. And as Seyeon’s giggles echo through the apartment, you realize that, awkward or not, this is exactly where you want to be.

As Jisung steps into the hallway, he quickly motions for you to follow him into the living room. His expression is one of barely concealed panic.

"Okay but," he whispers, running a hand through his messy hair. "We need a story. Seyeon can’t know we both slept in my room. She’ll definitely tell her mom, and... yeah, let’s avoid that."

You stifle a laugh, appreciating the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Jisung glances toward Seyeon’s room, where her little voice is calling out again, a clear mix of curiosity and impatience. He thinks for a moment before his eyes light up. “We’ll say you arrived really early to check on her, and I was still half-asleep when you got here.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Half-asleep and on top of me?”

He groans, his ears turning red. “Details she doesn’t need to know!” He waves his hands, flustered. “Just... sit on the couch and act like you just got here. I’ll handle the rest.”

Rolling your eyes but unable to resist the humor of the moment, you grab your bag from where it had been discarded the night before and plop yourself on the couch. You pull out your phone to make it look like you’ve been sitting there for a while.

“Daddy?” Seyeon’s voice is louder now as she pads into the living room in her pajamas, her bunny clutched in her arms. Her sleepy eyes widen slightly when she spots you. “y/nie! You’re here!”

You give her a warm smile, waving as if this is the most normal morning ever. “Morning, sweet cheeks. I came early to check on you and Daddy. How are you feeling?”

Seyeon blinks at you, her expression curious. “But I didn’t hear the doorbell…”

Jisung swoops in at that exact moment, his hoodie slightly askew and his hair still a mess. “That’s because Daddy let y/n in while you were still asleep, princess,” he says smoothly, crouching down to give her a hug. “She wanted to make sure you were feeling better.”

Seyeon narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, her tiny hands on her hips. “Why is your hair so messy, Daddy?”

Jisung freezes for a split second before letting out an overly dramatic yawn. “Oh, that’s because I just woke up too! I was soooo tired after yesterday, remember?” He ruffles her hair playfully, distracting her as he stands. “But look at you—still the cutest little bean even when you’re sick.”

Seyeon giggles, her suspicions forgotten for the moment as she climbs onto the couch beside you. “Are you gonna stay with us today, y/n?”

You glance at Jisung, who gives you a grateful look over Seyeon’s head. “Of course,” you reply with a smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You and Daddy need someone to take care of you, don’t you?”

Seyeon nods eagerly, her little hands clutching yours. “Yes! Daddy is really bad at making soup.”

“Hey!” Jisung protests, but his playful tone makes you laugh.

As the three of you settle into the morning routine, the chaos of the earlier situation melts away. Jisung catches your eye every now and then, a mix of gratitude and amusement in his expression. And though the morning started with a flurry of awkwardness and quick thinking, it’s clear that neither of you would trade this for anything.

“y/n,” she says after a moment, her little voice breaking the quiet. “Do you know how to make pancakes?”

You glance over your shoulder with a smile. “I do, but I think soup is better for you today, sweet cheeks. Pancakes can wait until you’re all better.”

Seyeon pouts, but it’s short-lived as Jisung shuffles in, still looking half-asleep despite his attempt to pull himself together. He leans against the counter, his hoodie slightly crooked, and watches you with a soft, almost shy smile.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmurs as you stir the soup.

You wave him off. “I told you, you’re both sick. Somebody has to take care of you.”

Seyeon pipes up from the table. “y/n is the best at taking care of people, Daddy. You should hire her forever!”

Jisung chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll see, princess. For now, I think we’re lucky she’s here at all.”

You finish the soup and serve it up, sitting beside Seyeon to make sure she eats slowly. She chatters between spoonfuls, her energy already bouncing back, though she still has a telltale flush on her cheeks from the fever.

After breakfast, Jisung retreats to the couch, looking utterly exhausted but refusing to admit it. You catch him trying to sit up and work on his laptop, which you promptly take away from him.

“Absolutely not,” you scold, folding your arms. “Back to bed, Mr. Producer. You’re supposed to be resting, not working.”

“But—”

“No buts.” You place your hands on your hips, glaring down at him. “You’re lucky I don’t confiscate your phone too.”

Seyeon comes from behind her legs with a smirk and a playful voice, “ohoh, Daddy’s in trouble.”

Jisung gives you a sheepish smile, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. You win.”

He stands, but his movements are sluggish, his fever still lingering. You guide him back to his bedroom, where he collapses onto the bed with a dramatic groan.

“This feels like a punishment,” he grumbles, though there’s no real bite in his tone.

“It’s for your own good,” you reply, pulling the blanket over him. “Now stay put.”

As you turn to leave, he reaches out, his fingers lightly catching your wrist. “y/n,” he says softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Thank you. Really.”

You smile down at him, your heart softening at the sight of his tired but grateful expression. “Get some rest, Jisung. That’s all the thanks I need.”

When you leave the room, you find Seyeon curled up on the couch, already half-asleep with her bunny tucked under her chin. You drape a blanket over her and settle into the armchair nearby, the apartment finally quiet and peaceful.

The rest of the day passes quietly, with Seyeon resting on the couch and Jisung finally succumbing to sleep in his room. You tidy up the kitchen, check on both of them periodically, and eventually find a moment to sit and relax yourself. As you scroll absentmindedly on your phone, a text notification pops up.

Jisung: Hey. Are you still here, or did you head out while I was knocked out?

You smile, shaking your head as you type back.

You: Still here. Seyeon’s asleep on the couch. I’ll head out soon.

A minute later, another text buzzes in.

Jisung: You’ve been amazing today. Seriously, I don’t even know how to thank you.

You: I told you, no thanks needed. Just get better, both of you.

There’s a longer pause this time, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep again. But then your phone buzzes once more.

Jisung: What if I wanted to thank you by taking you out? Like... on a date.

Your heart skips a beat, your thumb hovering over the keyboard as you reread the message. Is he serious? Judging by the second text that quickly follows, he’s just as nervous as you are.

Jisung: Unless that’s weird. Is that weird? I feel like I’m making this weird. Forget I said anything.

You can’t help but laugh, imagining his flustered expression.

You: It’s not weird. I’d like that.

The three dots indicating his reply appear almost immediately.

Jisung: Really? Okay. Great. When?

You glance toward the couch where Seyeon is still snoozing and back at your phone.

You: Let’s wait until you’re fully recovered, okay? I don’t want to be on a date with a guy who can’t keep his head up.

Jisung: Fair point. But it’s a deal. As soon as I’m better.

A week later, Jisung texts you with a time and location. He insists on keeping it a surprise, though he assures you it won’t be anything too fancy. When the evening arrives, you find yourself standing outside a cozy, tucked-away bistro in Seoul. The warm glow of fairy lights strung above the outdoor seating area adds a touch of magic to the atmosphere.

Jisung is already waiting for you, looking much healthier—and much more nervous. He’s dressed casually but thoughtfully, his hoodie swapped for a well-fitted sweater and jeans. His smile when he spots you is enough to make your heart skip.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes softening as he takes you in.

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “You look pretty great yourself.”

He opens the door for you, leading you inside where the smell of freshly baked bread and herbs fills the air. The restaurant is intimate, with only a handful of tables and soft jazz playing in the background.

As you and Jisung settle at your table, the restaurant's warm ambiance makes you feel at ease. A candle flickers between you, its soft glow casting gentle shadows across his face. He looks relaxed, his posture leaning slightly forward as he glances at the menu.

“This place is beautiful,” you remark, taking in the quaint decor—exposed brick walls, wooden beams, and vintage artwork.

Jisung smiles, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I thought you’d like it. It’s one of my favorite spots, but I haven’t had a reason to come here in a while.”

A waiter arrives, pouring water into delicate glasses and handing you menus. Jisung grins as he watches you scan the options. “What are you thinking of getting?”

“Hm, probably the pasta,” you say, biting your lip as you deliberate. “What about you?”

“The steak,” he says without hesitation, then chuckles. “Seyeon would roll her eyes if she saw me order it. She keeps trying to convince me to go vegetarian.”

You laugh at the thought. “She’s quite the little advocate. How’s that going for you?”

“Let’s just say I’ve perfected the art of sneaking bacon into my meals when she’s not looking,” he admits with a mischievous grin.

You’re both laughing when the waiter returns to take your orders, and as the night unfolds, the conversation deepens.

Jisung leans on his hand, watching you with a softness that makes your cheeks warm. “So, what made you want to work with kids?”

You shrug, swirling your water glass idly. “I’ve always liked working with kids. They’re honest in a way adults sometimes aren’t, you know? And they remind me to find joy in little things.”

His gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, you feel a little self-conscious under his attention. “That’s exactly what Seyeon needed,” he says. “She’s been through so much for someone her age, and I’ve worried about her losing that joy. You’ve brought it back.”

You smile softly. “She’s a great kid, Jisung. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”

He shakes his head, his expression a mix of humility and gratitude. “I’ve tried, but there’s always this part of me that worries I’m not enough for her. Especially with everything between her mom and me.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “You’re more than enough. Seyeon adores you. And the fact that you care so much says everything.”

He looks at you for a long moment, then smiles, a quiet kind of relief in his eyes.

The dishes arrive, breaking the tender atmosphere, and you both dive into your meals. The food is incredible, and the easy banter resumes. Jisung insists you try a bite of his steak, holding a piece out on his fork with an exaggerated flourish.

“Fine,” you say, laughing as you lean forward to take it. The steak practically melts in your mouth. “Okay, that’s ridiculously good.”

“Told you,” he says with a wink, taking a triumphant bite.

You share stories from your past, from embarrassing childhood moments to your favorite memories, and Jisung counters with tales from his idol days.

“Wait, you seriously tripped on stage during a live broadcast?” you ask, trying and failing to hold back your laughter.

“Oh, not just tripped,” he says, groaning dramatically. “I wiped out. Full face-plant. The members wouldn’t let me live it down for months.”

By the time dessert rolls around—an indulgent chocolate lava cake you decide to split—you feel like you’ve known him forever.

“Okay, honest question,” Jisung says, wiping a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

You think for a moment before answering. “Somewhere quiet, with a lot of nature. Maybe near the ocean. What about you?”

He pauses, his gaze thoughtful. “Honestly? Wherever Seyeon is. She’s my world.” Then, after a beat, he adds, “But having someone like you there wouldn’t hurt either.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat again.

The conversation lingers even after the plates are cleared, neither of you in a hurry to end the night. When the check arrives, Jisung snatches it before you can protest, giving you a playful glare.

“Don’t even try,” he says. “This is my treat.”

By the time dinner is over, the warmth between you feels almost tangible. Jisung insists on walking you home, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stroll side by side.

When you reach your door, he hesitates, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I had a really great time tonight,” he says, his voice soft.

“Me too,” you reply, smiling up at him.

There’s a brief pause, and then he steps closer, his gaze flicking to your lips.  “Is it okay if I—”

Before he can finish the question, you lean in, closing the distance. His lips are warm and soft against yours, the kiss sweet and unhurried, a perfect culmination of the night.

When you pull back, his cheeks are pink, but the smile on his face is radiant.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice full of promise.

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you reply, already looking forward to what’s to come.

A few days after your magical date with Jisung, your phone buzzes while you’re at home. It’s a text from him.

Jisung: Hey, no pressure, but the guys are getting together for dinner this weekend. I’d love for you to come along.

You read the message a couple of times, your heart fluttering.

You: Are you sure? I mean, isn’t that like…a big deal?

Jisung: It’s not a big deal! Well, okay, maybe it is a little, but only because I want them to meet you. They’re like family to me.

You: And you’re sure they won’t think it’s weird?

Jisung: baby, they’re going to love you. Trust me. Besides, it’ll be fun. Casual. No pressure.

You: Okay. Let’s do it.

The evening of the dinner, Jisung picks you up, visibly excited. “You look amazing,” he says, grinning as you slide into his car. “You’re going to fit right in.”

The dinner is at a trendy Korean BBQ restaurant, and the private room is already lively when you arrive. The other members of Jisung’s former group greet you warmly, their energy filling the space.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Jisung says, his arm resting lightly on your back. Then, with a small but unmistakable smile, he adds, “My girlfriend.”

You feel a collective shift in the room as all eyes turn to you, surprise quickly morphing into grins and playful teasing.

“Girlfriend?” Chan, the leader, says, raising an eyebrow at Jisung. “Since when?”

“Since recently,” Jisung replies, his tone casual but his expression soft as he looks at you.

“Wow, finally! I thought this day would never come,” Changbin teases, earning a laugh from everyone, including you.

“Okay, okay, don’t scare her off,” Jisung says, laughing as he guides you to a seat beside him.

As the night goes on, the atmosphere grows more relaxed. The members share hilarious stories from their time as a group, complete with impressions and exaggerated reenactments.

“Did he tell you about the time he lost his pants on stage?” Hyunjin asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hyunjin!” Jisung protests, his face turning bright red.

“Oh, please, you have to tell me now,” you say, laughing.

Jisung groans dramatically, covering his face as Hyunjin dives into the story, complete with theatrical flair.

When it’s your turn to share something about yourself, they listen intently, occasionally throwing in jokes that make everyone laugh. You can tell how much they care for Jisung, and their approval feels like a warm embrace.

“You’re really good for him,” Chan says quietly as the others are distracted grilling meat. His kind smile reassures you. “He’s been happier lately. Thank you for that.”

You glance at Jisung, who’s laughing at something Seungmin just said, and feel a wave of affection. “He makes me happy too,” you reply honestly.

The teasing began almost as soon as Changbin noticed how attentive Jisung was being to you throughout the dinner. Whether it was making sure you had enough food or leaning in to whisper something funny in your ear, it was clear Jisung was smitten—and Changbin wasn’t going to let that slide unnoticed.

As the group grilled meat and exchanged banter, Changbin raised an eyebrow at Jisung, smirking. “You know, Jisung, it’s funny…” he began, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.

Jisung immediately tensed, a cautious look flashing across his face. “What’s funny?” he asked warily.

Changbin gestured toward you with his chopsticks. “Just how different y/n is from your ex. I mean, not to stir the pot or anything—”

“Then don’t,” Jisung interjected, though his tone lacked bite.

But Changbin wasn’t stopping. “—but seriously! Like night and day. y/n’s relaxed, fun, down-to-earth…” He trailed off with a playful shrug, his grin growing.

The table erupted in laughter, though you felt a little heat creep into your cheeks. You glanced at Jisung, who was glaring at Changbin with mock annoyance, his ears turning red.

“Yah, Changbin-hyung,” Jisung said, pointing his chopsticks at him. “You don’t have to point it out like that.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a compliment,” Changbin said with a laugh, raising his hands in mock defense. “I’m just saying you clearly upgraded. Don’t act like you don’t know it.”

“Hyung’s glowing,” Felix chimed in with a cheeky grin, piling on the teasing.

“Don’t make me regret inviting you all,” Jisung muttered, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement.

You decided to jump in, hoping to lighten the moment. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or slightly concerned about how much you’re comparing me to her,” you joked, earning more laughter from the group.

Changbin laughed the hardest. “No, no, you should definitely be flattered. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in years.”

Jisung sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Seungmin replied with his trademark deadpan humor, making everyone laugh again.

Despite the teasing, you could feel the warmth in the room, the genuine affection Jisung’s friends had for him—and, by extension, for you. As Jisung reached under the table to squeeze your hand, his shy smile told you he didn’t mind the jokes as much as he let on.

Later, as you were leaving, Jisung shook his head, muttering, “Changbin’s never going to let me live that down.”

The car ride back to Jisung’s apartment was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. The earlier teasing and laughter had dimmed, replaced by a thoughtful silence that neither of you rushed to break.

Finally, you glanced over at him. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you started softly, your voice gentle. “But… how did things end with your ex?”

Jisung’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. He looked straight ahead, his expression unreadable for a moment before speaking. “It wasn’t easy,” he said quietly. “Nothing about it was.”

You gave him a moment, waiting patiently. “We were young when we met. Fell in love quickly. For a while, it was perfect. We supported each other through everything—the good and the bad. But… the more I focused on my career, the more she felt like she was losing herself.”

You could see the pain flicker in his eyes as he said it, the weight of those words hanging between you.

“It’s hard, when two people are going in different directions,” he continued, his voice a little hoarse. “The distance, the misunderstandings—it felt like the walls were closing in. Eventually, we stopped talking as much. Stopped seeing each other the way we once did.”

You reached out, lightly placing a hand on his knee. “That must’ve been really painful,” you said softly. “To watch something you both built fall apart.”

Jisung let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing under your touch. “It was. Still is, sometimes. But… we weren’t right for each other. And Seyeon deserved more stability, more love than we could give her when we were barely holding on ourselves.”

The honesty in his voice cut through the tension in the car, and you felt a deep sympathy for the man who had carried so much weight for so long. “You’re doing your best,” you said gently. “For both of them.”

He glanced at you, offering a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I try.”

You gave his knee a squeeze, the touch offering comfort, though the quiet that followed was heavier now. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but you felt like you understood a little more of Jisung—the man behind the laughter, behind the fame.

After a while, he spoke again, softer this time. “I don’t talk about her often. Seyeon means everything to me. She’s my world now. And I don’t regret how things turned out, even if it hurt.”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “But it’s okay to talk about it. You don’t have to carry it all alone.”

He nodded slightly, his fingers drumming softly against the steering wheel. “It’s just… hard sometimes. Seeing how happy Seyeon is now, and knowing that the woman who helped create her is still part of the equation. It’s not simple.”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. “But you’re doing better than you think.”

The rest of the drive was quieter, the words exchanged grounding but still heavy with emotion. You didn’t need to fill the silence. Just being there was enough.

When you arrived at his apartment, Jisung reached for your hand, holding it tightly as you both stepped out of the car. The weight of the conversation lingered, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you.

The door to Jisung’s apartment creaked open slowly, and your heart immediately sank when you stepped inside. The tension in the air was thick, palpable even before you saw them. Voices—raised, angry—echoed from down the hall.

“No, Jisung! You can’t just bring her into our lives like this!”

It was her, you could’ve tell by the long thick brown hair and her slim body. Seyeon’s mother. Her voice sharp, filled with frustration, and a trace of betrayal.

Jisung’s voice followed, equally firm and unyielding. “She’s part of Seyeon’s life. She’s part of mine now too. You don’t get to control that anymore.”

You froze by the entrance, uncertainty washing over you. You could hear Seyeon’s soft cries from her room, the sound barely audible through the tense exchange. She must’ve heard everything.

This isn’t how I wanted it to start, you thought, your grip tightening on your bag.

The apartment felt suffocating. Every word was a blow, a crack in something fragile. They had been separated for years, and yet the wounds still ran deep.

“You’re being selfish!” her voice snapped. “You didn’t even consult me! She’s a nanny, Jisung! A stranger! You’re bringing her into her life without thinking—without even telling me!”

“I did think about it!” Jisung shouted back, his voice raising with every word. “I thought about what’s best for Seyeon. And if that means bringing y/n into our world, then so be it. I’m not going to hide who she is anymore.”

The tension in the room crackled, a storm brewing that neither of them seemed ready to weather.

You felt like an intruder, standing there in the doorway, unable to move, unable to escape the weight of it all. This wasn’t supposed to be your role—caught between two parents who were struggling to put their differences aside.

Finally, Jisung’s voice lowered, softer but no less fierce. “This isn’t about me or you anymore. It’s about her. About Seyeon. And she deserves to be happy, to feel safe—whether that’s with me or with you.”

A heavy silence fell over the apartment, the kind that left no room for words. You could hear the trembling breaths of both Jisung and Seyeon’s mother, neither one backing down, neither one willing to compromise.

“I’m not here to take her place,” you said softly, stepping forward into the hallway. “I’m here for Seyeon. She needs stability, and I want to be a part of that. But I’m not here to replace anyone.”

Both their eyes snapped to you, the weight of your words landing between them.

Jisung’s mother softened slightly at your presence, though her gaze was still sharp. “And what happens when this… arrangement falls apart? You’ll leave too? Like everyone else?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, holding her gaze steadily. “I’m here as long as Seyeon needs me. And if that’s what Jisung and I decide, then I’ll be here. It’s not about me; it’s about her.”

Another beat of silence followed. Jisung stepped closer to you, his hand briefly finding yours in a gesture of quiet support.

Seyeon’s mother exhaled slowly, her anger subdued but not gone. “You have no idea how complicated this is,” she finally said, her voice low and weary. “And maybe… maybe you’re right. Maybe Seyeon does need more than just a father or a mother. But this isn’t what I imagined for her. Not this.”

Jisung nodded solemnly, his jaw tight. “I know. But we don’t always get to choose how life turns out. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. That’s all.”

Seyeon’s soft sniffles turned into quiet whimpers from her room, and Jisung’s mother’s face softened slightly at the sound. “She’s scared,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “She’s hearing all of this. She doesn’t understand.”

Jisung’s eyes closed for a moment, his breath hitching slightly. “I know. I know. And I hate this more than anything. But she’ll get through it. We’ll get through it.”

A final, heavy pause hung in the air before Seyeon’s mother spoke again. “You’d better hope this works, Jisung. Because if it doesn’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “I know.”

She turned, walking toward Seyeon’s room, knocking softly on the door. “Seyeon, it’s mommy,” she said gently, her voice wavering. “Can I come in?”

The little girl’s hesitant voice responded from behind the door, but it was barely audible. “No, mommy. I wanna stay with daddy…”

Jisung’s face tightened, the raw pain evident as he looked toward the door. Without another word, Seyeon’s mother left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her. The silence that followed was deafening.

Jisung leaned against the wall, his breath shaky, and you approached him carefully. “She didn’t mean what she said,” you said softly, your hand resting on his arm. “She’s just scared.”

“I know,” Jisung murmured, pressing his forehead against the cool wall, his voice hoarse. “But it hurts. More than I ever thought it would.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, holding him close, letting him feel the comfort you could give, even if it wasn’t enough. “You’re doing everything you can. For both of them.”

Together, you stood there, the weight of the moment pressing down on you both. Seyeon’s cries continued softly from her room, and you knew that healing would be a long, painful journey—one neither of you could rush.

The night was long and heavy. Jisung sat by Seyeon’s room, occasionally knocking softly to check on her, but she never answered. The pain of her confusion and fear was palpable, even from the other side of the door.

You stood quietly in the living room, watching him from a distance. The man who had always seemed so composed, so in control, was unraveling. His shoulders sagged, his head hanging low as he struggled with the weight of the situation. You knew how much Seyeon meant to him, and seeing him like this, broken yet determined, tugged at your heart.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he broke the silence. “She doesn’t want me to go in,” Jisung said, his voice low and strained. “She doesn’t want to see me.”

You walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can’t force her, Jisung. She needs time.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. I just—” His voice cracked, and for a moment, he couldn’t finish his thought. “I feel helpless.”

“You’re not,” you assured him quietly. “You’re doing everything right. She knows you love her.”

Jisung let out a breath, leaning back against the wall. “I keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently—what I should’ve done. Maybe if we hadn’t fought like that, she wouldn’t be so scared.”

You knelt down in front of him, forcing him to look at you. “No one’s perfect, Jisung. You’re doing everything you can. And that’s enough.”

A small smile broke through his pain, though it was bittersweet. “You’re too good to me.”

You squeezed his hand softly, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes without words. “Because you deserve it.”

His hands moves on your cheeks gently, cupping your face and bring it close to his, his lips ghosting yours for a moment before his mouth collide against you gently - but fill with passion. He's in a pure need of attention and gentle touches. You kiss him back with the same feeling because you are slowly realising how much you are in love with this man.

As the kiss continue, as your lips keeps going for his, his hands slips on the back pocket of your jeans making you squirm a little against his lips, "J-jisung.."

"Please."

"Not now okay?" you coo as your thumb brush against his bottom lip gently, for how badly you want his hands on you, the moment is not the best. He press his lips together before pressing them gently against your thumb. "Okay, you're right."

The night dragged on, the quiet moments shared between you filled with unspoken understanding. You sat together in the dim glow of the living room lamp, sharing stories and reminiscing about simpler times, anything to ease the tension between you.

As the sky began to lighten with the first rays of dawn, Jisung finally spoke again. “She still doesn’t want to see me. But maybe… if she sees you here with me, she’ll feel safe enough to come out.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “I’ll be here. For both of you.”

He nodded slowly, a sense of peace washing over him at your words. Even in the quiet of the morning, the weight of the previous night hadn’t completely lifted, but it was a step forward—however small.

Just as the sun started to rise, a soft shuffle came from Seyeon’s room. Her small voice called out quietly, unsure yet hopeful. “Daddy?”

Jisung’s breath hitched, and without thinking, he moved toward the door. “Sweetcheeks?”

Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a timid, tear-streaked face. Her mother’s protective instincts were evident, but her little eyes searched for something familiar—something safe.

“Come here, sweet girl,” Jisung whispered, his voice gentle and full of love. He knelt down, opening his arms wide, and Seyeon stepped into them hesitantly. He wrapped her up in a tight embrace, her tiny arms clinging to him like a lifeline.

“I was scared,” she murmured against his shoulder, her voice barely audible.

“I know, baby,” Jisung said softly, rocking her gently. “But you’re safe now. You’re with me.”

You watched from a distance, your heart swelling with emotion. Watching Jisung finally connect with his daughter after the turmoil gave you a sense of purpose that was hard to explain. He deserved to be her rock, just as she deserved to lean on him.

After a few moments, Seyeon lifted her head, her tear-streaked face searching for yours. “y/n,” she said softly, her small voice tinged with curiosity. “You stayed?”

You smiled warmly, crouching down to her level. “Of course I did, sweetie. I told you, I’m here for both of you.”

It’s almost midnight of a random Wednesday when your phone buzz with a jisung’s text asking you to come to his apartment for a small stay in date, you’re over the edge. You missed him, you missed your boyfriend because the last week you couldn’t see him – he was too busy working, Seyeon stayed with her mother an addictional weekend and your essays were one on top of the other in your desk. So when he asked you to be there in 10 minutes, you were already taking the bus to his house. You didn’t dressed up, you just casually put a comfortable sweater on and a skirt just how he seems to like you.

When you knock at the door his happy smile makes you feel immidiately at home. “Hey, beautiful,” Jisung greets, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk. His messy hair and soft hoodie make him look effortlessly perfect, and the way his eyes rake over you sends a shiver down your spine. “You didn’t make me wait long, did you?”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not everyone has the luxury of teleporting, Sungie. The bus takes time.”

He chuckles, stepping aside to let you in. “You could’ve run here. I would’ve been worth it.”

His teasing tone is matched with a flirtatious glance, and before you can come up with a witty reply, his hands find your waist as soon as the door closes. He pulls you in, the familiar warmth of his touch melting away the stress of your week. His lips brush your temple, then your cheek, lingering just enough to make your heartbeat quicken.

“You smell like heaven,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. His lips find your ear, and you swear you can feel his smile. “And you look even better than I imagined.”

Your face heats up as you lightly shove his chest. “you’re saying this knowing damn well how I loove.”

He catches your hands and holds them against his chest, his grin widening. “maybe yes, maybe no. That’s up to you.”

The warmth in his eyes makes your knees weak, but before you can drown in his gaze, he tugs you further inside. The living room is dimly lit, fairy lights draped across the walls casting a soft glow over the space. A cozy blanket is spread across the couch, and the coffee table holds a bottle of soda – because he knows you don’t like to drink and he secretly appreciate that, two glasses, and a bowl of popcorn.

Jisung notices your eyes scanning the setup and tugs at your hand to pull you closer. “Nothing fancy,” he says, feigning nonchalance, “but I figured you deserve a little break. Just us, we didn’t had that many dates due my schedules and your exams.”

Your heart swells as he leads you to the couch. The air between you is thick with anticipation, his hand lingering on yours as you sit. He leans in close, his knee brushing against yours. “So,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave, “how much did you miss me?”

You try to stay composed, but his proximity and the mischievous glint in his eye make it impossible. “Enough to take the bus at almost midnight,” you reply, meeting his gaze.

His smile turns sly as he shifts even closer, his lips mere inches from yours. “Only enough for that?” he teases, his voice a breathy whisper. “Guess I’ll have to work harder to make you miss me more.”

Before you can answer, his hand cups your cheek, and he closes the distance between you. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a tenderness that quickly turns intoxicating. The world outside fades away as you lose yourself in him—his touch, his scent, the way he tastes like home.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice is husky. “You’re mine tonight. No essays, no kids, no stress—just us. Deal?”

You nod, breathless, already sinking into the haven he’s created. “Deal.”

Jisung smiles against your lips as you kiss him again, his hands still cradling your face like you’re the most delicate thing in the world. He pulls back just far enough to see your flushed cheeks and dazed expression, his own grin soft and full of affection.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

He leads you to the couch, settling you into the corner where the blankets are piled. He sits down beside you and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as if he’s trying to shield you from the rest of the world. The faint hum of the fairy lights fills the air, along with the soft rustle of the blanket as he tucks it over both of you.

You relax against him, your head naturally finding its place on his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, and the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with his own warmth makes you sigh in contentment. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the outside world a distant memory. Jisung shifts slightly, adjusting the blanket and pulling you closer, his fingers now absentmindedly running through your hair.

“What are we watching?” you ask eventually, your voice muffled against his chest.

He chuckles softly, his chest vibrating against you. “Nothing yet. I got too distracted by you.”

You playfully swat his side, but he only laughs, pulling you even closer. “Alright, alright,” he relents, reaching for the remote. “Let’s pick something cozy. You’re the boss tonight.”

You glance at the screen as he scrolls through the options, his free hand never leaving your waist. After some debate, you settle on a rom-com, one of your favorites that he insists he’s never seen but secretly knows by heart.

As the movie plays, Jisung’s commentary is both endearing and hilarious, his whispered quips earning giggles from you that he seems determined to keep coming. When you laugh too hard, he presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he whispers, “I love that sound.”

His lips find your neck, leaving soft pecks long the way, your hands instinctively clutch at his hoodie as his lips find your neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that make your heart race. He takes his time, his touch unhurried, as if savoring every second. When he reaches the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, he lingers, his lips brushing over your skin with maddening gentleness.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice a low rasp that sends a thrill down your spine. His teeth graze your skin lightly, and your grip on his hoodie tightens.

“Jisung,” you say again, your voice a mix of a plea and a warning. He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your neck.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence as his lips press another kiss just below your collarbone. “I’m just making up for lost time.”

You tilt your head slightly, giving him more access despite yourself. His hands slide to your waist, steadying you as he continues to kiss and nuzzle your neck. Each press of his lips feels like fire and electricity, sending sparks through your entire body.

“Missed you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. The tenderness in his words is enough to make your heart clench, and you can’t help but pull him closer.

“I missed you too,” you admit, your fingers tangling in his hair. He lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with affection—and something more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he leans in to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It’s slow and deliberate, a kiss that feels like a promise. 

Your hands slips on the elm of his hoodie, removing it from his body and you canno’t stop looking. The tattoos on his torso are incredibly attractive, broad shoulders, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, you’re fingers are itching to touch his toned skin, “damn.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “are you that surprised?”

“well yeah for your age-“ You smirk causing him to pout. “hey!”

His arms moves around your waist, lifting you from the ground and placing your stomach against his shoulder, you kicks lightly your legs in the air, “Jisung you better put me down!”

Giggles fills the apartment as he hold you with an arm around your waist and the other patting playfully your ass, “nah, I can carry you easily like this.”

“But—“

“No buts, you’re not a kid and tonight you’re my girl to pleasure.” His words are warm and they make you blush when you step into his room, a smile growing in your lips and another laugh left your lungs when he kindly let you lay on the bed, your back against the sheets that smells like him.

“You are—“ he swallow lightly, his fingers tracing the elm of your shorts, “beautiful. Breathtaking.” 

Your clothes end up quickly on the floor, his hands roaming all over your body, tracing your skin and trying to get every single part touched by him, he wants you to forget about the past partners and remember only him. Him and his smile, him and his giggles, his soft and kind voice. 

The arch of your back makes him shiver, it’s a scene of a movie, his index trace from between your breasts to the sweet roll of your tummy, making you chuckle, “are you having fun?”

“Very. And you?” His eyes looks for confirm, your nods is enough for his finger to run over your belly button. He’s teasing you, you can tell. It tickles you. “Jisung don’t tease me.”

“What they say? waiting increases desire,” You roll his eyes at your boyfriend’s smirk.

“You say that to your kid,” he squeeze his eyes a little, shaking his head quickly almost to remove a thought from his mind, “don’t.. don’t say that!”

A small noise of surprise falls from your lips, just as he lean to kiss you softly to shut you up — he need more. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and at the same time, he presses his lips harder against yours. His lips mold into yours, spit gathering in his mouth from hunger. 

His hands spread apart your legs wide, making you squeak at the sudden action, his hands grips your hips raising them enough for his dick to rub against your folds, “you’re teasing me again.”

Your purrs makes his skin shivers, “do you want me that bad?” he bend over you, his nose nudge against yours gently as you smile, the intimacy of the moment makes your pussy get wetter.  

His hands grip your waist tightly as he feels your wet heat taking him inch by inch, “Fuuuuck, how many times have I dreamt about this?” He hiss, you’re absolutely enjoying this. 

Jisung is stretching you out so good, as his cock is rubbing over that sweet spot inside you. He’s enjoying the view, you’re hidden eyes, the way your tits are bouncing when he push deeper in you. It’s been a while since he fucked someone and it felt this good, it’s really hard for him to not come yet.

“I’m so close.. jisung.” You’re moans filled his room, your head moved backward making him grunt under his breath, he pulls out stroking his shaft in a rough manner, “no.. no cum inside.”

“A-are you sure?” Your hand reach for his tip gently, brushing the tip with his thumb making his hips moving forward for his touch, you guide his cock back inside you, your walls squeezing him again as he start to thrust into you faster than before, rougher, raw. It’s a feeling that makes your feel full, the light bulge in your low stomach makes him with a cocky smirk, “oh look how deep I am.”

He brushes his fingers over your skin, making you whimper, your legs tight around his waist, “o-oh God— Jisung..” Your legs shakes in pleasure as he cums deep in you, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

He slowly moves to lay beside you, trying to catch some breath after the intensity of your love making. The room is bathed in a warm, golden glow from the bedside lamp as you and Jisung lay tangled together beneath the covers. His arm is draped lazily around your waist, his fingers drawing absentminded circles on your skin. You feel utterly at peace, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your ear.

But then, he breaks the silence with a dramatic sigh.

“Y/n,” he says, his voice filled with mock seriousness. “I need to tell you something. Something big.”

You tilt your head to look up at him, his expression so over-the-top that you can’t help but giggle. “What is it, Sungie? Did you run out of snacks again?”

“No,” he groans, throwing his free hand over his forehead like a tragic hero in a melodrama. “It’s worse. Much worse.”

You raise an eyebrow, biting back another laugh. “Worse than running out of snacks? Now I’m worried.”

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow and staring down at you with wide, comically serious eyes. “I’m not ready to be a dad again,” he declares, his voice filled with mock despair. “I barely survived the first time.”

It takes you a second to process his words, and then you burst into laughter. “What are you even talking about? You’re an amazing dad to Seyeon!”

“That’s not the point!” he retorts, wagging a finger at you like a professor giving a lecture. “Seyeon’s a literal angel. She eats her vegetables, brushes her teeth without a fight, and even says please and thank you. Do you know how rare that is?”

You nod, still laughing. “So what’s the problem?”

He flops back down onto the pillows, groaning dramatically. “The problem is, I’ve been spoiled! What if the next kid is a little gremlin? What if they refuse to eat anything except chicken nuggets and demand a bedtime story and a TED Talk every night before bed?”

You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as he continues, his arms flailing for emphasis. “And don’t even get me started on the diapers. Do you have any idea how many diapers I changed with Seyeon? Enough to build a small fortress! I could’ve gone pro in diaper-changing.”

You snuggle closer, resting your chin on his chest as you grin up at him. “So what I’m hearing is... you’re scared of tiny humans.”

“Terrified,” he says, nodding solemnly. “Tiny humans are unpredictable. One minute they’re giggling at your funny faces, and the next, they’re crying because you didn’t let them eat crayons.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you tease, poking his side. “But for the record, I think you’d do just fine if we ever had another one. You’re kind, patient, and you have a way of making even the most boring things fun.”

He blinks at you, his dramatic persona melting away for a moment as he smiles softly. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest.

He sighs, his smile turning playful again. “Okay.”

“but why did we started to talk about kids all of the sudden?”

“i.. cummed inside,” you laugh, pulling him into a hug.

As he wraps his arms around you, his voice softens. “Don’t tease me! It’s serious, I don’t.. I don’t think we can be pregnant yet. Seyeon barely know that we are together.”

“Agreed,” you murmur, resting your head against his chest again. His hand resumes its lazy circles on your back, and soon, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your shared laughter and steady breathing. “And for the record, I take the pill.”

He sigh in relief, making you laugh louder.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning, and the three of you—Jisung, Seyeon, and you—are sitting in the living room. Seyeon is sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a sea of coloring books and crayons, her little tongue sticking out in concentration as she carefully colors a unicorn. Jisung is on the couch, his legs stretched out lazily, while you sit beside him, close enough that your knees occasionally bump.

“Daddy,” Seyeon says, not looking up from her masterpiece, “what’s your favorite color?”

Jisung leans forward, pretending to ponder the question deeply. “Hmm, that’s a tough one. I like... whatever color y/n likes.”

You look at him in surprise, your cheeks heating up. “What?” you ask, laughing nervously. “Why?”

“Because,” he says with a playful shrug, “it’s always a safe bet to like what y/n likes. She has excellent taste.”

Seyeon looks up at him, her crayon paused mid-stroke. “What if she likes rainbow? That’s all the colors, Daddy.”

“Then I like rainbow,” Jisung declares confidently, shooting you a wink.

A few minutes later, Seyeon holds up her finished unicorn drawing, beaming with pride. “Look, Daddy! Look, y/nie!”

“Wow!” Jisung exclaims, clapping his hands dramatically. “That’s amazing, sweetheart. y/n, don’t you think Seyeon’s got the best artistic talent ever?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Absolutely. She’s a little Picasso.”

Seyeon grins, clearly pleased with the praise. Then Jisung leans down toward her, his tone suddenly conspiratorial. “You know,” he says, “Y/n has been helping you so much lately. I think she deserves a big thank-you, don’t you?”

Seyeon nods eagerly. “Thank you, y/n!”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetie,” you say, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

Jisung isn’t done, though. “But,” he adds, his voice taking on a teasing tone, “don’t you think y/n is super nice and pretty, too? Like, the best nanny ever?”

Seyeon blinks up at him, then looks at you, her face scrunching in thought. “Yeah, y/n is really pretty. And she makes the best sandwiches. Daddy, do you like her?”

The room goes still for a moment, and you feel your face heat up. Jisung, however, takes it in stride, a sly smile spreading across his lips. “Of course I like her,” he says, leaning back casually. “She’s amazing. Don’t you think it’d be nice if she stayed with us forever?”

Seyeon tilts her head, her tiny brows furrowing. “Like... forever forever?”

Jisung nods, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Forever forever.”

You clear your throat, trying to suppress a laugh. “Okay, let’s not confuse her,” you say, shooting him a look.

Seyeon, ever the perceptive child, turns her gaze to you. “Do you want to stay forever, y/n?”

Caught off guard, you stammer, “Well, I—I mean, I really like being here with you and your daddy. But—”

“She does,” Jisung interrupts smoothly, cutting you off with a grin. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Daddy,” Seyeon says matter-of-factly, “you’re being weird.”

Jisung laughs, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Maybe. But I’m also right.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as Seyeon goes back to her coloring. Jisung catches your eye, his grin softening into something more sincere. It’s a moment that lingers just a little too long, and when you look away, you can still feel his gaze on you.

The morning slips into the soft, lazy hum of afternoon, with Seyeon bouncing between coloring, her favorite cartoons, and occasionally running to grab snacks from the kitchen. You and Jisung remain in the living room, comfortably settled on the couch, though his occasional remarks keep you on edge—playfully, of course.

As Seyeon gets engrossed in her show, Jisung leans toward you, his voice dropping low enough so only you can hear. “You know,” he starts, his tone light and teasing, “I wasn’t kidding earlier.”

You glance at him, narrowing your eyes. “About what?”

“About you staying forever.” His grin is playful, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

“Jisung,” you whisper, glancing nervously at Seyeon, who’s still focused on the TV. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he asks, leaning his chin on his hand as if you’re having the most casual conversation in the world. “It’s true. I mean, Seyeon already loves you, you make the best sandwiches, and—let’s be honest—I think I’d be a little lost without you around.”

You try to play it off, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks heat up. “You’re being dramatic again.”

“I’m not!” he protests, his voice a little louder now. Seyeon turns briefly to look at him, and he quickly softens his tone. “I’m just saying... this house feels a lot warmer when you’re in it.”

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Before you can think of something, Seyeon pipes up from her spot on the floor, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

“Daddy, can we have pancakes tomorrow?” she asks, twisting around to look at him.

“Of course, sweetie,” Jisung says with a bright smile. Then, without missing a beat, he adds, “Maybe y/n will help me make them. Or, you know, we could have y/n  make all the pancakes forever.”

“Forever pancakes!” Seyeon cheers, throwing her hands in the air. She doesn’t fully understand what he’s implying, but she giggles anyway, clearly enjoying the idea.

Before you can respond, she climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between the two of you with all the confidence of a child who knows she’s the center of your world. She looks up at Jisung with big, curious eyes.

“Daddy, do you love y/n?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel like your heart has stopped. Jisung, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He glances at you, a playful twinkle in his eye, before turning to his daughter.

“Of course I love y/n,” he says, his tone warm and sincere. “She’s very special to us, don’t you think?”

Seyeon nods seriously. “Yeah, she’s the best.”

Your heart melts at the sight of her little face lit up with pure affection. Jisung, ever the opportunist, takes the moment to slide an arm around both you and Seyeon, pulling you closer.

“See?” he murmurs, his voice dropping just for you. “I think it’s unanimous. You’re stuck with us.”

Seyeon claps her hands. “Y/n forever!” she declares, leaning against you with a contented sigh. Jisung winks at you over her head, and you can’t help but laugh. Maybe staying forever isn’t such a bad idea after all.

You’re folding laundry on a quiet Sunday afternoon when Jisung walks into the room, Seyeon bouncing happily on his hip. His face lights up when he sees you, and you smile back instinctively. Moments like these—the easy rhythm of life in their home—always warm your heart, even as they sometimes leave you wondering if you truly belong here in the way Jisung’s lingering glances suggest.

“Hey, y/n,” Jisung says casually, though there’s a certain energy to his tone that immediately puts you on alert. “I was thinking...”

“That’s always dangerous,” you tease, setting down the shirt you were folding.

He grins, undeterred. “Ha ha, very funny. No, seriously. We’re heading out of town for the holidays, just a little cabin getaway. Me, Seyeon... her mom.” He pauses, gauging your reaction. “And I thought it’d be really nice if you came with us.”

You freeze mid-fold, your mind racing. Did he just—?

Seyeon perks up at the mention of you. “Y/n’s coming? Yay! You’ll build snowmen with me, right?”

Your heart clenches at her excitement, but your nerves are quick to set in. “Oh, um... I don’t know,” you say hesitantly, glancing at Jisung. “I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Intrude?” Jisung repeats, laughing softly. “Y/n, you’re family. You’re basically Seyeon’s favorite person in the world—after me, of course,” he adds with a wink.

“And Mommy,” Seyeon chimes in cheerfully, her little voice oblivious to the awkward undercurrent her words create.

You force a smile, your anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. The idea of spending the holidays with Jisung, Seyeon, and her mother feels... complicated. What if it’s awkward? What if her mom doesn’t like the idea of you being there? What if you misread all of Jisung’s hints and you’re overstepping your place in their lives?

“I don’t know, Jisung,” you say softly, busying yourself with folding another shirt. “It sounds like a family thing. I don’t want to get in the way.”

He sets Seyeon down, and she scampers off to find her crayons. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Jisung steps closer, his expression softening. “Y/n, listen. I know it might feel... weird. But it’s not like that, I promise. Seyeon adores you, and I want you there because—well, because I want you there. You make everything better, even the holidays.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, and you look up at him, your cheeks warming. “Are you sure her mom will be okay with it? I don’t want to cause any tension.”

Jisung waves off your concern with a casual shrug. “She’s fine with it. We’ve talked about it already. Things between us are purely about co-parenting now, nothing else. She knows how important you are to Seyeon—and to me.”

Your heart skips a beat at the way he says those last words, but you still hesitate. “It’s just... a lot. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

Jisung steps closer, his hand brushing yours. “Y/N,” he says softly, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re not just Seyeon’s nanny. You’re part of this family, whether you realize it or not. The holidays wouldn’t feel right without you there.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, melting away some of your anxiety. You glance toward the living room, where Seyeon is happily humming to herself as she colors. She’s so excited about the idea of you coming, and Jisung’s earnestness is hard to resist.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Jisung’s face lights up with a smile that makes your heart flutter. “That’s my girl,” he says, squeezing your hand briefly before pulling away.

As you watch him walk back to Seyeon, your nerves remain, but they’re tempered by something else—something warmer. Maybe this holiday won’t be as daunting as you think. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll be exactly what you need to feel like you truly belong.

Oh, if only you knew how bad the things were turning to.

The cabin was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace. Seyeon had just fallen asleep after an evening of snow angels and hot chocolate, and you were in your room, giving Jisung and his ex some space to talk. They hadn’t had a real conversation in a long time, and tonight seemed like the right time—at least that’s what Jisung had said.

But now, standing in the dimly lit living room, he wasn’t so sure.

“So,” she started, her arms crossed defensively as she leaned against the mantle. “What’s this really about, Jisung? You’re acting like everything’s fine, like we can play happy families for Seyeon’s sake, but we both know it’s not that simple.”

Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about playing happy families. It’s about doing what’s best for her. She deserves stability, and I thought we were finally in a place where we could at least pretend to get along.”

“Pretend,” she repeated bitterly, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. “Right. Because pretending fixes everything. Like it fixed us?”

“This isn’t about us,” Jisung snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. He softened his tone, taking a step closer. “It’s about Seyeon. She’s happy. She feels safe. Isn’t that what matters?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she straightened up, her posture rigid. “Don’t act like you’re the only one thinking about her, Jisung. I’ve been doing this alone for years while you were too busy chasing your career. You’re lucky she even knows you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and his jaw clenched. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly, his voice laced with hurt. “I’ve done everything I can to be here for her. I love her.”

“And yet you weren’t there when she needed you the most,” she shot back, her voice cracking. “When she had her first fever, when she started school, when she cried herself to sleep asking why Daddy wasn’t home.”

Jisung flinched, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. “I know I made mistakes. I wasn’t there as much as I should have been, and I’ll regret that forever. But I’m here now. Doesn’t that count for something?”

She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “You think you can just walk back in and fix everything with your charm and your promises, but life doesn’t work that way. You can’t undo the past, Jisung. And you can’t expect me to forget it, either.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, his voice trembling with frustration. “I’m asking you to see that I’m trying. For her. For all of us.”

“All of us?” she scoffed, bitterness dripping from her words. “Let’s not pretend this is about ‘us.’ You’ve already moved on, haven’t you? Bringing her here, parading her around like she’s some kind of replacement.”

“Y/n isn’t a replacement,” Jisung said firmly, his eyes blazing. “She’s a part of Seyeon’s life, and she’s been nothing but good for her.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “But you don’t get to rewrite history, Jisung. You don’t get to act like the perfect father now and expect me to just go along with it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Jisung looked at her, his expression a mix of anger and heartbreak.

“I’m not trying to rewrite history,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m just trying to be better. For Seyeon. If you can’t see that... then I don’t know what else to say.”

She turned away, her back to him as she stared into the flickering flames. “Maybe there’s nothing left to say,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jisung stood there for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides, before he turned and walked away, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a storm cloud.

The air between them was thick with unresolved tension, and as he disappeared down the hallway, she didn’t call after him.

In the quiet of the cabin, the distance between them felt more insurmountable than ever.

The first couple of days passed in relative peace, but by the third morning, it was clear something was off.

It started small: Seyeon’s mother, would “accidentally” leave you out of conversations, her voice dropping to a whisper with Jisung whenever you walked into the room. She rearranged the kitchen supplies you’d neatly organized to prepare breakfast, then acted oblivious when you couldn’t find anything. Once, she even laughed and said, “Oh, you must not spend much time in kitchens,” with a pointed glance at Jisung.

You brushed it off at first. This was her time with Seyeon, too, and you didn’t want to stir up unnecessary drama. But her passive-aggressive behavior only escalated.

When you offered to take Seyeon sledding, she suddenly announced that they’d already planned to go without you. You stayed behind, feeling awkward and unsure of your place. When they returned, her mother made a point of loudly recounting how much fun they’d had, conveniently forgetting to include Jisung’s praise about how Seyeon wouldn’t stop asking for you while they were out.

At dinner one evening, she served everyone but you. When you politely got up to grab your own plate, she laughed. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize you were joining us for every meal.”

You bit your tongue, plastering on a smile. “I didn’t mean to impose.”

Jisung, oblivious, simply passed you the serving spoon with a wink. “Y/n’s practically family,” he said, not noticing the way her jaw tightened.

That night, as you tucked Seyeon into bed, she wrapped her little arms around your neck and whispered, “Mommy says you’re just visiting. But I want you to stay forever.”

Her words made your heart ache, but you only smiled, brushing her hair back gently. “I’ll always be here for you, sweetie.”

The next morning, the mother pulled out all the stops. She insisted on decorating Christmas cookies with Seyeon, making a big show of asking Jisung for help. “It’s our little family tradition,” she said sweetly, her eyes flicking to you as she emphasized the word family.

You excused yourself, claiming you needed to catch up on reading. But as you sat on the couch with an open book in your lap, you couldn’t concentrate. You could hear their laughter from the kitchen, and every time her voice rang out, you felt smaller and smaller.

Jisung seemed none the wiser, though you couldn’t blame him. she moves were subtle, designed to push you out of the picture without outright confrontation. And you didn’t want to ruin the holidays for him or Seyeon by bringing it up.

But by the time Christmas Eve rolled around, your patience was wearing thin. You were helping Jisung set the table for dinner when she walked in, holding a tray of desserts she’d made with Seyeon.

“Oh, Jisung,” she said in a syrupy tone, “remember the first Christmas we spent together? You couldn’t stop eating my cookies.”

Jisung chuckled, not catching the tension in the room. “Yeah, you always did make great cookies.”

She smirked, turning to you. “Did you try baking with Seyeon yet? It’s a bit of a skill, you know.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Jisung beat you to it. “Y/n’s amazing with Seyeon,” he said, smiling warmly. “She doesn’t need to bake to prove that.”

For the first time, his ex faltered, her expression slipping before she covered it with a tight smile. “Of course,” she said, turning back to the tray.

But as the evening wore on, her petty jabs continued, each one chipping away at your resolve. You kept your head high, smiling and nodding through it all, but when the night ended and you finally retreated to your room, you felt exhausted.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling with the weight of it all. You wanted to tell Jisung—desperately—but the thought of burdening him during the holidays, or worse, causing tension between him and her, kept you silent.

Christmas morning dawned bright and snowy, the cabin blanketed in a pristine layer of white. You could hear Seyeon’s excited voice echoing through the halls as she begged Jisung to wake up and open presents. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and despite the tension brewing under the surface, you pulled yourself out of bed and resolved to make the day as joyful as possible for her.

By the time you made it to the living room, the mother was already there, sitting cross-legged by the tree and sipping her coffee. Her gaze flicked to you briefly before she turned her attention back to Seyeon, who was bouncing on Jisung’s lap.

“Good morning,” you said softly, offering a polite smile.

The older girl raised her mug in response but didn’t say anything. Jisung, oblivious to the exchange, grinned at you. “Morning, sleepyhead. Coffee’s in the kitchen.”

You nodded and slipped into the kitchen to pour yourself a cup. When you returned, Seyeon was already tearing into the first of her presents, her delighted squeals filling the room. You took a seat on the couch, watching her with a warm smile as Jisung handed her another brightly wrapped package.

“This one’s from y/n,” he said, holding the gift out to her.

Seyeon’s eyes lit up, and she practically lunged for it. “From y/n?” she asked, tearing into the wrapping paper. “Yay!”

As she pulled out the set of art supplies you’d chosen for her, her face lit up with pure joy. “Thank you, y/n!” she cried, running over to throw her arms around you.

You hugged her tightly, your heart swelling. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I hope you make lots of beautiful pictures with them.”

“Of course I will!” she said, running back to show Jisung and her mother her new treasures.

Jisung’s ex smile was tight, but she said nothing, instead turning her attention to the next present.

As the morning went on, the tension simmered just beneath the surface. Her comments were subtle but pointed, from joking about Jisung’s taste in gifts to making unnecessary remarks about your relationship with Seyeon.

When you offered to help clean up the wrapping paper, she waved you off with an overly sweet smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it, y/n. I’m sure you’re used to tidying up after Seyeon, but this is a family tradition.”

You swallowed the retort rising in your throat and busied yourself picking up stray ribbons instead. Jisung was too preoccupied with helping Seyeon assemble a toy to notice the slight, and you decided not to draw attention to it.

Later, during lunch, his ex decided to needle further.

“So, y/n,” she began, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “What are your plans for the new year? I imagine you’ll be looking for other opportunities soon, right?”

Jisung frowned, looking up from his plate. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said with a shrug, taking a sip of her wine. “It’s just that being a nanny isn’t exactly a long-term career, is it? How long is that girl working for you now? 9, 10 months?”

You felt your cheeks flush, and you opened your mouth to respond, but Jisung beat you to it.

“Y/n’s not just Seyeon’s nanny,” he said firmly, his tone laced with irritation. “She’s part of this family. And she’s not going anywhere.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Of course not,” she said smoothly, though her eyes betrayed her displeasure.

You busied yourself with your food, your appetite gone. Jisung’s words were kind, but they only seemed to add fuel to Mirae’s passive-aggressive fire.

By the time the day wound down, you were emotionally drained. Seyeon had fallen asleep on the couch, clutching one of her new toys, and Jisung had carried her off to bed. Mirae was sitting by the fire, scrolling through her phone, when you finally decided to head to your room.

As you passed her, she spoke without looking up. “You know,” she said, her tone casual, “Jisung’s always been good at seeing the best in people. But that doesn’t mean everyone belongs in his life forever.”

You stopped, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, you considered responding, but you quickly decided against it. Instead, you turned and walked away, her words echoing in your mind.

Lying in bed that night, you stared at the ceiling, your heart heavy. No matter how much Jisung reassured you, her actions had a way of making you feel like an outsider. And while you didn’t want to let her win, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she was right—maybe you didn’t belong here after all.

The days after Christmas continued to weigh heavily on you. You kept your distance from her, as much for your own sanity as to avoid any further confrontations. But the further away you emotionally distanced yourself from her, the more distant you became from Jisung too.

You saw the way he looked at you, the concerned glances he gave when you withdrew into yourself during meals or stayed behind while he and Seyeon went outside to play in the snow. He was starting to notice the quietness, the way you didn’t laugh as easily anymore, how you seemed to put distance between yourself and everything they shared.

“Hey,” Jisung said softly one evening, after Seyeon had gone to bed. You were sitting by the window, watching the snow fall in silence. He sat down beside you, his hand gently brushing yours. “What’s going on with you?”

You looked away, your fingers tightening around the edge of your sweater. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together in concern. “baby, come on. You’ve been like this all week. I know something’s bothering you.”

You let out a breath, your gaze fixed on the snow falling in the distance. “It’s just... Seyeon’s mother.”

Jisung sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I should’ve known. I told you, I’ll handle her. You don’t have to deal with her alone.”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just her. She’s been trying to make me feel like an outsider. And it’s working.”

Jisung’s expression softened, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “She doesn’t get to dictate how we feel, love. You’re important to us. To Seyeon and me.”

“I know that,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “But it doesn’t feel that way when she keeps pushing me away.”

“I see it too,” he admitted, his hand squeezing yours gently. “She’s been petty, and it’s not right. But you can’t let her win by pulling away from me too.”

You glanced at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you said softly, your voice breaking. “But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

He let out a breath, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re not pretending. I can see it. And it hurts me too.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Jisung said firmly. “But you can’t shut me out. Not when I’m trying to make things better for you.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the weight of everything pressing down on your chest. “That no matter how much you try, it won’t ever be enough.”

Jisung cupped your face in his hands, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “Then let me try harder. Please angel.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you, and you finally let the tears fall, your body trembling against his embrace. “I want to trust you,” you said, your voice a whisper. “But she makes it so hard.”

He held you tighter, his warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of love and comfort. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered against your hair. “I promise.”

The next morning, the cabin was quiet. Seyeon and her mother had gone for an early walk through the snowy woods, leaving the house blissfully empty. Jisung had spent the night thinking about how to make things right, how to remind you that he cared—truly cared—and that nothing his ex said could take that away.

When he found you sitting by the window, staring out into the snowy landscape with a distant look in your eyes, he knew it was time.

“Hey,” he said softly, gently nudging your shoulder. “What do you say we spend the day together? Just us.”

You glanced at him, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Just us?”

“Just us,” he confirmed, his eyes sincere. “Seyeon and her mom are out all day. It’ll just be you and me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the quiet tension in the air between you making it hard to let go of your worries. But then his hand reached for yours, steady and warm, and you felt your resolve soften.

“I’d like that,” you said softly.

The day was crisp and clear, the snow untouched, and the silence between you and Jisung was comfortable. You walked hand in hand through the frosted woods, your breath forming tiny clouds in the cold air.

“You don’t have to worry about her you know,” Jisung said quietly, breaking the silence. “Not today. Today is just about us.”

You nodded, letting his words settle into your heart. “It’s hard, though. Hard not to think about everything.”

“I know,” he murmured, pulling you a little closer. “But we don’t have to carry that weight right now. Let’s just be us.”

You both kept walking, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound between you. The crisp air stung your cheeks, but Jisung’s warmth radiating from his coat and his hand in yours made you feel grounded.

After a while, he stopped walking, tugging you gently to a nearby bench tucked between the trees. You sat down together, the snow falling softly around you.

“This is nice,” you said, leaning into him slightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, brushing a snowflake from your hair. “It’s perfect.”

For a while, you just sat in comfortable silence, the world around you feeling far away. Eventually, Jisung broke the quiet with a soft, playful nudge.

“So, what do you want to do next?” he asked with a smile, his voice teasing. “Snowball fight? Sledding?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re not going to win a snowball fight, Jisung.”

“Oh, you don’t know that,” he said with mock confidence. “I was a champion in school.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving his shoulder. “You’re delusional.”

He laughed, his entire face lighting up. “Okay, fine. We’ll skip the snowball fight. But you owe me something fun.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at how easy it felt to be with him, to simply enjoy each other’s company. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“And you’re lucky you’re stuck with me,” he teased, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

Jisung held you close, his arm draped comfortably around you, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, knowing that even if the world around you wasn’t perfect, this— him—was.

He drags you in the deep woods, making you giggle with a confused expression, “What are we doing now?”

Jisung’s smirk grows bigger when he grabs your waist gently, pushing you gently against a tree, his lips meeting yours. The sudden touch of his cold hands for the snow makes your skin tingle under his touch, “u-um..”

You don’t realise how much you missed your boyfriend’s attention until you are under him, in bed in the empty cabin in his room, with his head between your thighs. 

He sucks hard on your nub, feeling your writhe beneath him.

Jisung moans into your pussy as you pulls him closer, your taste filling his senses. He licks and sucks at your folds, his tongue delving deep inside your tight heat. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread open for his mouth.

His tongue flicks against your swollen bud, his fingers slipping inside you to curl up and stroke that spot that drives you wild.  “Mmm, you taste amazing baby...”

Jisung's skilled tongue explores every inch of your glistening folds, lapping at your sweet nectar like a man starved. He focuses on your sensitive bud, flicking and circling it rapidly before sucking it between his lips.

“i-i’m so close...” You gasp as you cover your mouth with your hand, your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Feeling your walls starting to flutter around his fingers, Jisung doubles his efforts. He seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, his tongue vibrating against the sensitive nub as he pumps two fingers deep inside your, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

It doesn’t take you long after to cum, his tongue happy to clean you, his eyes meeting yours after that—it was the best head someone gave to you. He stands up between your thighs, looking down to your happy and now relaxed figure, “that’s my girl, all happy and smily.”

A few months had passed since that quiet trip, and life had settled back into its routine. Seyeon had grown closer to you, her attachment deepening as you spent more time with her, nurturing her and becoming a significant part of her life. The bond between the three of you felt natural, but you knew it wasn’t sustainable to keep your relationship with Jisung a secret from her forever.

One evening, after tucking Seyeon into bed, you found Jisung sitting by the fire with a tired smile on his face. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over him. You approached slowly, sitting down beside him with a soft sigh.

“I think it’s time,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Jisung’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a question. “Time for what?”

“For Seyeon to know about us,” you continued quietly. “About us as more than just... you know, me being her nanny.”

He inhaled deeply, considering your words. “You think she’s ready?”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I do. She talks about you all the time. She knows you’re important to me, but I think it’s time she understands what that means. Fully.”

Jisung reached for your hand, threading his fingers gently with yours. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “It’s not just about us. It’s about Seyeon feeling secure and knowing that you love her, and that we love her together.”

He smiled softly, leaning in just slightly. “You’re right. She deserves to know. And I don’t want her to feel confused about what we mean to each other.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, squeezing his hand again. “We’ve built something special with her, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Jisung leaned back into his chair, his gaze thoughtful as he considered your words. “It might be a bit overwhelming at first,” he admitted. “But I trust you. We’ll figure it out together.”

You smiled softly, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “I just want her to know that it’s okay to love both of us.”

He gave you a tender look, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “She’ll understand. You’ve been there for her in a way that goes beyond what anyone else could. And I couldn’t have asked for a better person to be by her side.”

The warmth of his words settled into your heart, and for the first time in a long while, you felt peace.

“We’ll tell her soon,” you said quietly, feeling a new sense of certainty. “Maybe even tomorrow.”

Jisung nodded, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Tomorrow it is.”

The next day, after breakfast, you and Jisung sat down with Seyeon in the living room. She was playing with her dolls on the carpet, her little giggles filling the space. You and Jisung exchanged a glance, both of you ready for the conversation that was about to change things.

“Seyeon,” Jisung began softly, settling beside her on the floor, “there’s something important we want to talk to you about.”

Seyeon paused, looking up at both of you with wide, curious eyes. “What is it, Daddy?”

You sat down next to Jisung, a gentle smile on your face. “Well, Seyeon, you know y/n, right?”

She nodded eagerly, her small hands clutching a doll close to her chest. “Yeah! y/n takes care of me and plays with me. I love her.”

Jisung smiled warmly. “We love you too, sweetheart. But there’s something else you should know. Y/n isn’t just here to take care of you. She’s a very important person in our lives. She’s someone we care about a lot, someone who loves us just like we love her.”

Seyeon blinked up at him, her little brows furrowing. “So… y/n is more than just my friend?”

You nodded. “That’s right. Jisung and I, we’re all like a family. And we want you to know that it’s okay to love all of us, even if it’s a little different from what you’re used to.”

The room grew quiet for a moment as Seyeon absorbed what you were saying. She stared at you both, her expression thoughtful, before breaking into a small smile. “I already love both of you. So, that’s okay, right?”

Jisung and you exchanged relieved glances, sharing a quiet laugh. “Yes, sweetheart,” Jisung said softly. “That’s more than okay.”

Seyeon clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. “Then I don’t have to worry! I’m happy. I like having both of you.”

You and Jisung embraced her in a hug, the three of you tangled together in the warmth of love. “We’re happy too, Seyeon,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

Later that evening, Jisung held you close on the couch, Seyeon nestled between you both as a Disney movie played quietly in the background. She giggled at a funny scene, her little fingers clutching the popcorn bowl, as Jisung’s arm tightened around your shoulders.

“I thought she might not understand,” you admitted softly, feeling Jisung’s warmth seep into your bones.

“She’s smart,” Jisung replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And you made it easy for her. She loves you more than you know.”

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “She loves both of us.”

“And that’s perfect,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

For the first time, the weight of uncertainty seemed to lift. Together, you and Jisung had built a family—one that was unique, imperfect, but full of love and understanding. And that was all that mattered.

The sun set gently over the quiet cabin, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. The sound of a crackling fire filled the room, its warmth spreading through the space as you sat together with Jisung and Seyeon. She sat between you both, her small hands clasped tightly as she listened to a bedtime story Jisung was reading.

“And then, the prince and princess lived happily ever after,” Jisung finished, his voice smooth and comforting. He closed the book gently and kissed Seyeon’s forehead.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Seyeon whispered sleepily, her eyelids fluttering closed.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Jisung murmured, tucking a blanket around her.

You watched quietly, a soft smile on your face as you ran your fingers through Seyeon’s hair. She was fast asleep in no time, her little breaths steady and peaceful. Jisung carefully carried her to her bed, placing her down gently and pulling the covers up to her chin.

Once she was tucked in, he returned to you, sitting beside you on the couch with a sigh of contentment. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as the fire continued to burn warmly in the hearth.

“I think she finally understands,” Jisung said softly, his voice low and affectionate.

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Yeah, she does. She loves us both so easily.”

“She’s lucky,” he said quietly, his arm wrapping around you. “Having two people who care about her like this. You’ve been amazing with her, baby.”

You gave him a small laugh. “Well, she makes it easy. How could I not love her?”

“She’s lucky,” he repeated, pulling you closer. “But so am I.”

The room settled into a peaceful stillness. Outside, the snow continued to fall gently, blanketing the world in white. Inside, it was warm and cozy, the only sounds being the crackling fire and the soft hum of your shared presence.

You and Jisung sat in comfortable silence, lost in the little moments of your own little family. This, right here—this calm, this love—was enough.

No matter what came next, you knew you had each other. And that was everything.

@chancloud8 @hanji-coffee .

[grinchdelia]

In principle I agree with some of the points made above but nonetheless, I do feel the wounds. Funny thing is I don't think you need any ecological training to see it, most laypeople are just conditioned to accept extractivist murder machine as normal. Remembering a certain place where a couple years after the clear cut, they went back and burned all the old snags that had been decomposing and providing habitat since before the loggers came. Thinking of the grasslands in the CA central valley and OR Willamette valley and how much is left. And that little is still hurt, not what once was.

Yeah these places were so full of life specifically because of human care, the thousands of years of tending by the indigenous nations who lived there. Yeah these places never existed in a state of permanence. And the difference on those landscapes before settler diseases and colonization, vs now, could not possibly be any starker. That is a wound. Look at a map of the great prairie. What's left? That is an ONGOING murder. No, they haven't wiped out the entire ecosystem. Indigenous people are still here, fighting for what's left. Restoration is make believe, it's not possible or desirable to set everything back the way it was. But we desperately need to get to work on healing. To heal, we need to acknowledge that what has happened in the last few hundred years is not just "change". It is in fact harm. It's hard to overstate how serious the harm is. I'm not going to look it up now but there's some pretty interesting charts comparing the biomass of humans and our domesticated animals, vs all other vertebrates. If you can't go out for a walk and see the bleeding, those charts are worth looking up and thinking about. Humans are just one type of being on this shared earth and we've seized control over most of the land to put in our fuckind death machine.

Got emotional at the end there but this should be an emotional topic. I'm in grief and I don't understand how other people aren't?

[ozzgin]

I'm not sure if you do angst... but I'll ask anyways. Ignore if you don't wanna answer, I'll understand.

What would the gorgon host do if his darling accepts the 2nd season after choosing him in the first and then they just don't choose him in the end of the second season?

Would he just be happy with the views no matter what (because it would be a viral scandal if darling does so), ignoring darling or would he try to take them back with him by any means necessary?

Oh, he would absolutely try to win you back. He'd claim it's a business choice: what about future seasons? What about spinoffs? Are you going to settle for one monster, when you could win the hearts of thousands?

In truth, he really did like having you around. He's not immune to the human charms, you see. He quickly discovered his awards and record-breaking views were not as satisfying as returning home to his human partner.

So, as pathetic as it is, he'll swallow the truth and turn on the waterworks. Come on, don't do this to him. You had something special. He'll officially cancel the series; no more dating, no more games. Please.

If you decide to take him back, you'll skeptically wonder if he can truly stay away from the fame and attention. Well, he can't. Don't fret, he's not going to break his promise. No one said anything about different kinds of shows, however.

"My life with a human spouse", coming out next year. Follow the mundane and cozy adventures of a flamboyant, charismatic monster and his cute little human partner.

[secriden]

This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

[pretend-i-don-t-exist]

ok back to my sy as yang yixuan au bc the brainrot refuses to leave

Luo Binghe's shixiong and shijie do not like him. This is a fact.

Qing Jing Peak and Bai Zhan Peak have long-standing animosity with each other. This is also a fact.

Those two facts are the root cause of why Luo Binghe is desperately running away, ducking and weaving through the bamboo as four Bai Zhan disciples hunt him down during their raid.

He yelps when he trips over a portruding stone, landing harshly on his elbows. He's already scrambling away when one of the disciples grabs his arm, and punches him on the cheek.

Luo Binghe, with all the force he can muster, pushes him away and resumes running. It doesn't take long before he's cornered to a dead end, and he backs away, trying to find an exit.

He does not need to plan his escape any further when a boy– dressed in Bai Zhan blues and blacks, lands down silently in front of the disciples, and proceeds to solidly beat each and every one of them up.

He has them all giving up in just a few minutes.

"Ah, seriously..." this new boy— older than Luo Binghe, stronger and smarter, too— sighs, placing his hands on his hips. "None of you really listen, don't you?"

With one swift, practiced motion, he swings the four rambunctious disciples over his shoulder, looking unamused. "All of you are to present at the Hall of Reflection and copy down the scriptures fifty times, and I will personally oversee your training for the next two months," the boy says, authority dripping off of every inch of his body. "Seriously, you're lucky you haven't injured anyone or else you'll be facing a worse punish–"

The boy's eyes catch Luo Binghe's. Luo Binghe shrinks away, all too aware of the livid bruise on his cheek and the blood from his nose.

There is silence. Then there is a thud, and all the Bai Zhan disciples who came for the raid groan in unison. There are footsteps, and the boy is suddenly kneeling in front of him, his hands inexplicably tender and gentle.

The boy hisses at the sight of the bruise. "I apologize for my shidi and shimei," he says, soft. His hands are marred with callouses, strong and firm and powerful, but they are gentle when they touch Luo Binghe. "They are rowdy and a little feral after being left uncontrolled for too long. May I ask for shixiong's understanding?"

Shixiong? Luo Binghe nods, a little wide-eyed. The boy softens, perceptibly, and begins threading qi to his meridians. "This is to quicken your body's natural healing," he explains. "You should get it looked better, however– I can accompany you to Qian Cao Pe–"

"No!" Luo Binghe blurts out, cringing away. Da-shixiong's friends warned him against going to Qian Cao. He doesn't want to know what they'd do if he does go there.

A pause. "Very well." The boy stops his qi, finding the bruise to be sufficiently healed. He pulls out medicine from his sleeve, just like how his Shizun does. "This is for bruises, and this one for small cuts. All topical– externally applied on skin, not ingested. No, please don't worry, this is the least I can do."

Luo Binghe accepts the medicine under the boy's insistence. He cannot say anything, tongue heavy in his mouth, not to even ask for the boy's name or why he is helping him.

The boy rises to his feet. "Well," he says, hesitantly laying a hand on Luo Binghe's hair. Either he doesn't seem to notice the flinch or he ignores it, but that doesn't matter because the boy is– patting his head. Gently and softly, like he has not the power to defeat all of the disciples here in this clearing on Qing Jing Peak.

"We'll have to get going now," the boy says. "Don't worry, they will be reflecting on their actions and will be sincerely apologizing for them. Take care, shixiong."

With two disciples over his shoulder and two under his arm, the boy flies away on his spiritual sword. Luo Binghe clutches the medicine in his hands tighter, feeling the warmth of the boy's gentle hands lingering on his own, and tries to carve every line of the boy's face into his memory.

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

I was never fully pro-TQ. Around the same time I was introduced to second-wave feminism, I learned about the concept of "transgender" people.

Even in my wokest days, it never made any sense to me, but my mentality was "I don't understand it, but you do you".

I read works by feminists like Dworkin, Lorde, and Friedan in college, and joined social media like Tumblr for the first time. I saw a lot of what I was taught reflected in the rhetoric on here.

Until I didn't.

It almost seemed to happen overnight. Basic feminist rhetoric, especially anything positive about women and our bodies, was suddenly demonized as "TERF rhetoric".

My tumblr was a fandom blog back then, and I kept seeing these posts about those awful "TERFs". When I'd go look at them to see just how awful they were, I realized they held similar beliefs to me. They were still preaching what had been considered acceptable feminism not that long ago.

That's when I realized all these self-proclaimed leftists and progressives had been faking their "social justice" the entire time. Same-sex marriage, women's rights - those were all trends to them, a pet causes to champion until the next fad came along. But trans activism was different in that, unlike feminism and gay rights, it gave them the opportunity to become the bullies they always wanted to be. They could finally express their hatred for those dumb bimbos and those icky homos and it would be condoned, not condemned, with the "correct" language!

Every year, "trans" people and their allies get worse and worse. I've watched it happen. They've become more misogynistic, more homophobic, more racist, more ableist, more ageist. Dumber by the day, and so fucking violent.

But if you dare call them out, especially if you're a woman, they show you no mercy. They de-person you. They threaten you. They make it their pathetic life's mission to ruin yours for your disobedience.

These people pretended to be my ally, then stabbed me in the back with phony smiles and speeches about how it's for my own good.

That's what changed me.

wanted to add this to a post but i'm blocked so i'll just post it on its own for the millionth time

[warblogs17282]

I'm loving all the discussions we're having about Octavia and I will not accept any Octavia slander on this profile, but ngl, the amount of people I've seen justify her behaviors and actions with purely 'she's 17' kinda icks me ngl.

Don't get me wrong, I completely understand why Octavia behaved and acted the way she did during the episode, and her being 17 is also part of that reason why as well, but it's always been more complicated than 'she's 17'.

Like, people do grow and mature differently, and well, Octavia literally grew up in an incredibly toxic and abusive arranged marriage, with her also not knowing about the situation regarding the arranged marriage much/at all as well, which while I'm sparing the details here, contributed heavily to Octavia's growth as a person, with this being one of the main factors as to why Octavia behaved and acted the way she did this episode.

So, instead of just saying 'she's 17' and nothing else at all, can you all please remember the toxic circumstances she grew up in also heavily contributed to her growth as a person as well? Thanks.

[arkadijxpancakes]

There are a couple of angles you can take:

1) Remember that "No" is a full sentence. You can just decline, without elaborating further. As she is your friend, you might want to cushion it a little bit, but you don't have to give any reasoning for not wanting to watch that show. You could try to offer some alternative, too. (Example: "Hey friend, I know you are interested in that new HP series everyone is talking about. Personally, It's just not for me. Therefore, I won't watch it. How about we watch/play/read [other thing] instead?")

If she keeps pushing after that, just redirect her to your "No". If she refuses to accept your boundary, it might be time to reevaluate (parts of) that friendship.

The other angles kind of depend on who your friend is, what she does and doesn't know about Rowling and on what she values. If you want to discuss this with her, try to make it personal. If she is passionate about something (trans rights, workers rights, etc.) focus on that. Avoid arguments she isn't interested in/doesn't care about. You can mix and match as needed, but try to stick to one or two main arguments. (That way, it's easier to keep the discussion on track. It's easy to get sidetracked or derailed, if there are too many arguments floating around. It could also cause her to get overwhelmed - and someone who is overwhelmed is unlikely to listen.)

But lets look at the different angles:

2) Focus on Rowling and her bigotry. She has (and, in a lot of cases, still does):

spread misinformation about transness and trans people. She constantly tries to stir up moral panics about trans women in public bathrooms, prisons and sports.

refused to accept the results of scientific research. She is just as anti-science as many climate change deniers.

used ableist and infantilizing language against autistic people. (This usually boils down to the idea that autistic people do not understand how the world works and should not be allowed to make divisions about themselves and their own bodies.)

supported involuntary conversion therapy. (She also named one of her pseudonyms after Robert Galbraith Heath, a pioneer of conversion therapy. When called out on this, she refused knowing about Robert Galbraith Heath. Apparently, she just really likes the names Robert and Galbraith and had to mash them together without doing a quick google search. She did not change the pseudonym and is still publishing books under that name.)

used her wealth and reputation to influence British politics and lobby against trans rights. (For example, the right to self-ID and the right to trans inclusive healthcare.)

caused and participated in multiple harassment campaigns against women of color, by claiming they were men. One of her targets is Imane Khelif, a female boxer who participated in the Olympic Games 2024. Rowling targeted her, after she won a match against an Italian boxer. She also targeted Lin Yu-ting, another boxer.

She is on record for denying crimes committed by the Nazis. In particular, she called the fact that trans people were targeted by the Nazis as a "fever dream". When called out on this, she doubled down and tried to hide behind semantics. She also allowed literal Neo Nazis to support her on this. Note: When people talk about this, they often use the term "Holocaust Denial" - which it totally is. However, I would refrain from using that term, because it could allow your friend to derail the discussion by focussing on semantics instead of on what Rowling did. Many transphobes and Rowling apologists love to claim that it isn't Holocaust denial, because the Holocaust was about the genocide against Jews and trans people aren't Jews. They will also claim, that it isn't Holocaust denial, because she isn't denying that the Holocaust happened. You really don't want to get swamped with that bullshit, so don't say "Rowling has committed Holocaust denial." Instead, try to be specific. (Example: Rowling called the idea, that trans people were persecuted by the Nazis during the Third Reich, a "fewer dream". This includes her denying the fact that the Nazis raided the Insitut für Sexualwissenschaft and burned its library. (At that time, the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft was the leading research institution for gay, transgender and intersex topics.)

3) Focus on the bigotry in the books. The books just don't have aged well. If the series sticks to the books, there will be a lot of questionable stuff in there. This includes in no particular order:

The houself-plotline that Rowling introduces in Goblet of Fire depicts an enslaved fantasy species that loves working for their masters and sees payment as an insult. They also react with mental health issues and alcoholism, when freed. When Hermione starts to advocate for them, her activism is treated as a joke. Her contemporaries laugh at her, the house elves resent her and the lesson she learns from all of this is "They like it that way!"

There is no fucking progress. At the end of the books, the house elves are still enslaved, Hermione has stopped her activism and “All was well.”

The way, female characters are portrayed in the books, is pretty misogynistic. Firstly, there is just a lack of important female characters in general. (Most characters, especially when it comes to important characters, are male.) Secondly, the female characters that do exist, tend to fall into iffy tropes. Hermione and Ginny fall into the “not like other girls” trope. Adult female characters are often reduced to their roles as wives and mothers. Female characters, who perform femininity wrong, get criticized and condemned by the narrative. (This includes feminine characters who are too feminine, characters who are too masculine and characters who refuse to be good little wives and mothers. Examples are Fleur Delacour, Lavender Brown, Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange.)

There is a lot of colonialist thinking in the books. You can see this in how characters from other countries get stereotyped a lot. It’s also reflected in the way non-wizards are treated.

The teaching methods that are depicted in the books are just awful. Most teachers we see, simply shouldn’t be put into a classroom full of kids. And it’s not just Snape, either. (At least, his teaching “skills” get criticized in the books.) McGonagall plays favorites, while pretending to be fair, Dumbledore regularly endangers the kids in his care (and it’s not just Harry either) and let’s not even try to talk about Hagrid.

There is a lot of fatphobia in the books. It’s mostly reserved for characters who are bad or evil. (Just look at how Dudley is treated, for example.)

There is a lot of ableism in the books.

There is a lot of black-and-white-thinking in the books. Stuff the good guys do, is usually depicted as good, Stuff the bad guys do, is usually depicted as bad and evil. Even if they do the same thing. (Snape or the Slytherins bully Neville? How could they! Outright evil, all of them! Harry or other good Gryffindor characters bully Neville? Oh, that’s just a little bit of fun and comic relief. No big deal.)

In addition the black-and-white-thinking, there is also a lot of mean-spiritedness in the books. On a fundamental level, most characters are pretty mean. And it’s not just the bad/evil characters, either. At times, Harry, Ron and Hermione are pretty mean to other characters and each other. As are good characters like McGonagall and Molly Weasley, and lovely old Hagrid is even worse. Then there are all the bullies on the Gryffindor-side of the good-vs-evil divide. (Mostly the Marauders, but also Fred and George.)

4) Focus on the series itself. It’s very likely, that this series will be nothing but a cash grab. You can point at Fantastic Beasts. It might have started with a pretty solid film, but after that the quality of the films fell down a steep cliff. The films got canceled after film 3. It is very likely that the TV series will suffer the same fate. Because it’s not about revisiting the books and making a high-quality series about them. There are already movie adaptations of the books and they are good enough and new enough. There is no need for another adaptation. So no, it’s not about making a good adaptation. Warner is simply trying to milk their cash cow.

If you are a marauders fan/ you support or are in the queer community then do Not watch the upcoming Harry Potter show! Do not support it! Do not interact with posts in support of it! We do not need anymore content from jkr! Buy the books second hand! Don’t buy official merch! Stop giving your money to her! Stop being transphobic!

Edit: I have a reply in the reblogs to those mentioning to pirate the show

[velvetvexations]

So weird question, but I've been seeing posts going around in transfeminist(and transradfeminist) spaces talking about how there's this huge problem in the queer community of people not agreeing rhst trans women are women, and like claims of people responding to the question of "would you stand up to defend trans women and argue that they are in fact women?" by saying "yeah, of course, gender is whatever you want it to be :)" and how that's a huge problem because it shows they don't actually agree that trans women are women, and insisting that "it only makes sense to categorize trans women as women and nothing else and if you won't accept that you're a bigot" and I'm just getting the feeling I'm missing something?

Cuz like yeah, trans women are obviously women, that's. That's obvious? And I don't think I've seen anyone on any side of trans discourse or theory or whatever state that they don't think trans women are women, or that any trans person isn't the gender they say they are(except for like people who are against afab transfems or argue for why it's okay to use theyfab, I guess) but I think that's something we all agree on overall, kinda the foundational stance of trans rights, but it's being said like this gotcha?? But I have no idea what the hell it's supposed to be a gotcha against??

The only thing I can possibly see this being about is like, people saying transphobes and our transphobic society don't fully view trans people as the gender they are, which they don't, that is also obvious and it doesn't mean trans women aren't women, just that society puts them more in the broken pervert faggot freak category and occasionally moves them between the woman and man categories based on whatever will hurt said trans women the most in any given situation, but if that's what it's about then how does people talking about how gender can be fluid have anything to do with that? It's honestly kinda weird to see people get so focused on like proving without a shadow of a doubt that trans women are women in all aspects and saying that acknowledging that gender is fluid and complicated and not easily defined is transmisognistic like...it feels a little transmed-ish to me?? And like also I thought we as a community were moving away from slogans like "trans men/woman are men/women" and on to like "trans liberation" because arguing that we are the gender we say we are with bigots breaks down into pedantic nonsense that detracts from the real issues like bathroom bills and anti-drag laws and HTR bans??

I just keep seeing these posts all over and it's making me feel like...idk like I'm in middle school and people are teasing me by asking me questions that I don't have the full context for and then calling me a freak when I answer wrong, but I'm worried if I ask any of them "what's this really about" I'm going to get insulted and called a transmisognist for suggesting it's not just about trans women being women even though I really am getting the feeling it's not actually just about trans women being women.

Anyway if you don't know that's fine, I just thought you might have some insight since you seem to understand these people and their talking points pretty well and you're also a trans woman so I trust and value your input on this stuff.

the entire point of trans radical feminism is basically that it soothes dysphoria a bit to imagine that Christofascists do actually think trans women are women and trans men are men and treat them like the cis equivalent so they've abandoned gender anarchy because it's not validating enough

they don't care about liberation they just want to tell themselves that other people see them as what they identify as and that is literally their only priority

"trans women are women taxonomically because we're oppressed" Emily that's how radfems define womanhood they just think the oppression is based on sex rather than self-identification

[ladyloveandjustice]

so like I saw this entire argument for the first time when someone reblogged this post a few weeks ago, and was like "well it was two years ago, it's cleary a reach but i'm not that invested, they clearly just REALLY want to yell about this issue of Batgirl rather than go with the most obvious interpretation that was clearly intended, whatever, it's fine" (If they had Jordanna bring up "are you poor" after Steph talked about "her own issues" it is supposed to imply she was poor, whether Steph answers or not (and why would she answer that), otherwise why would the comic bring it up, it's not deep)

but then i was looking at one of my old amvs and

Stephanie's house looks kind of rough there. Yet this was a flashback? No earthquake?

man looks rough there too and this was way before the earthquake. weird that doing-well middle class people wouldn't repair a cracked wall and window.

As I said, that there are plenty of other comics that show Stephanie's house looking run down, this is exhibit A that I just happened to run across. I didn't really have the energy to actually look but turns out I didn't have to.

Steph's dad put the family in a financial hole. That is stated in this very comic. "Using all their money" every time he comes back means a bunch of stuff will pile up and you have to dig yourself out of it. Including the house being in disrepair. In-universe, it's only been like what, a year? less? since the last time he did that in most comics she's in. People don't just automatically recover from that. And that was most of Steph's childhood, Arthur doing that. This is a comic where "we have financial issues" is directly bought up. Steph's Mom likely has very little savings.

That's all I say. Comics are inconsistent. The writers are not as thoughtful about finances as the fans sometimes. It's often hard to nail down a single interpretation. But people think Steph has financial issues because there's more than one comic where her house looks rough, because it's directly stated, it's not out of nowhere.

Like I said, not super invested, I'm not going to say else anything past this post. Steph isn't obviously in danger of being thrown out on the streets, there's miles of difference between her and someone who was literally homeless like Jason, but "struggling" isn't a reach. It's been accepted as a fact for 15 years, since the first time I got into comics, with every fan I talked to, and this is the first time I've seen it so hotly contested, even by people who were following my series of scans on scans_daily (liking it or disliking it), having bits from almost every comic Steph was in right in front of them.

(OH. oh. You don't like Stephanie. that explains the amount of passion here that was confusing for me, I didn't understand why it seemed you were so invested in refuting this. it's like a moral thing now whether she's poor? or a 'financially-concious middle class white girl" is that why white was bought up despite not being relevant to the current conversation about finances? or something? idk what's going on in fandom anymore. anyway.)

If you ever have the time/interest, would you break down the canon surrounding Stephanie’s economic circumstances/home life? It seems like a lot of people have chosen to take it a specific way so I’d love to see your reasoning

Sure. Thanks for asking, it’s honestly a fun topic.

Y’know it’s funny—I actually happen to own something that I think most people, even most Steph fans, haven’t seen: Steph’s first appearance. Not her Robin first appearance, her Detective Comics first appearance, her actual introduction. I happened to pick them up by accident at a con a few years ago because they’re also some of Tim’s first cover appearances. 

Other people might disagree with me on this, but I like to go back to the characters’ origins whenever I can to find the baseline of what they were originally intended to be and try to bring later interpretations in line with that. I like to think of retcons as new revelations, new plot twists in an ongoing story, and not a way to reset aspects of the past just to fit your story. It works especially well for this because Steph’s socio-economic status doesn’t actually change, there’s just kind of a game of telephone that happens across the decades that leads people to misunderstand. 

One thing worth noting in these early issues is just how much Steph, a 16-year-old girl, has at her disposal before she ever even glimpses Batman and Robin. Literally the first shot we ever see of the Spoiler is this: 

And because I am, in fact, that kind of nerd, I have gone in a couple of times and dug out old era-appropriate electronics magazines to figure out what that piece of equipment would cost you in 1992. Baseline for a parabolic microphone is $600, and that price is for much larger, more delicate pieces of equipment meant to be used for like, outdoor nature shoots, which wouldn’t be able to hear through glass. Steph probably dropped $1,000 on that microphone alone. 

Remember also that her costume is homemade—she doesn’t have any other way of getting it. She’s also shown using some pretty elaborate climbing and painting gear, with no indication that they were stolen or borrowed or anything, and you can see that she’s got a pretty well-stocked utility belt there.

Again, for some reason people tend to forget or overlook this but, right up until she demanded Bruce make her Robin, Steph operated as Spoiler with zero Bat support. She got some hand-to-hand training from Cass late in the game and tagged along on some of Tim’s assignments, but was otherwise being actively discouraged from vigilantism for most of her career. She made her own costume, bought her own equipment, and maintained her own motorcycle, all without the financial support of either Batman or her parents. 

So right off the bat we know she’s a teenage girl with a not-insignificant amount of personal disposable income, the only hinted source of which is the implication she works a part-time job somewhere—which I don’t think is ever brought up again when she reappears in Robin. 

We all know minimum wage went further in 1992 than it does now, but it didn’t go that much further. So it’s reasonable to assume that Steph has access to at least some money from her parents to support her vigilante habit, whether that’s in the form of an allowance, gifts that she carefully manages between Christmas and birthdays, or money that she’s able to just, take from Crystal without her noticing. 

But this page is more important to our current interests because it’s also when we see Steph’s neighborhood for the first time. We’re told here that Steph and her mother (who is called Mrs. Agnes Bellinger in this comic, although it’s possible she was using a fake name to visit her ex in prison) live in what is described as “115 South Holden Street, in Manchester.” 

Now keep in mind, the Gotham City map can be extremely fluid and tends to change depending on the needs of the story. But there have been attempts to map it, and “Manchester” has never been on any of those maps, so we have to do some extrapolation. At the very least, we can tell the neighborhood is clearly not in the city, given the very deliberate angle there in the first panel to show that they’re well away from the crowded downtown Gotham skyline.

This implies that Manchester is intended to be one of the mainland suburbs that feeds the island city of Gotham, similar to Bristol Township where the Wayne and Drake Manors are located. It’s not nearly as nice a neighborhood as Bristol—note the fenced-in front lawns, the broken shutters on the neighboring houses, and the vaguely racist lawn ornament on the Brown’s property—but it’s also not some rundown slum. People aren’t afraid to let kids play in their front yards or leave their garage doors standing open. And you’ll note those aren’t trailers, either, they’re decently-sized suburban homes.

Also worth noting: Crystal seems to keep this house perfectly fine on her own as a single mother. Arthur doesn’t live with them; when he’s shown having residences it tends to be apartments in the city by himself, and it’s not like he could support them from prison or with his ill-gotten criminal gains. And yet, we don’t see Steph or Crystal worrying at all about bills or mortgages or anything like that throughout any of their appearances. We see the interior of their house on several occasions and, while it’s often messy, it’s not in disrepair or neglect.

This is a constant portrayal throughout all of Steph’s appearances, from Robin through even her run as Batgirl. So, with that in mind, where does the idea that Steph is poor come from? Well, I’ve got a couple of theories.

One is the usual comics fandom problem: canon is huge, nobody can keep up with all of it, and some people go out of their way to be assholes about it, so misinformation gets spread like wildfire, in no small part because Steph is a character that a lot of people use as a self-insert and therefore she must be the misunderstood underdog in all things.

But on the more-interesting-to-talk-about front… I don’t think it’s controversial to say that Steph’s first big storyline was her pregnancy. Yeah? Like, it’s the first story involving her that really started getting critical attention. Whether it deserves that attention is more open to debate—personally, since reading Icon & Rocket for the first time, I’ve come to view it as Dixon pulling the comic book equivalent of white guys repackaging black music and watering it down—but the important thing right now is that it’s the first time people would’ve been specifically reading the Robin comics for Stephanie Brown. And in those comics, Steph’s house is shown as visibly run-down, covered in cracks and disrepair.

Thing is, there’s a context that people miss if you’re reading for the baby storyline and nothing else: this storyline plays out over the last days of “Aftershock” and early months of “No Man’s Land,” the storyline where Gotham is racked by a destructive earthquake that nearly levels the city and is abandoned by the federal government.

Again, we get the reinforced confirmation that Steph’s house isn’t actually in Gotham because it’s not destroyed in the quake—the neighborhood is damaged and briefly evacuated due to a gas line rupture in the immediate aftermath, but once that’s cleared up they’re free to return home, and their suburb is not part of the federal government’s evacuation. Nearly every building in Gotham is shown with similar damage during this time, including Drake Manor. 

This storyline also plays into, I think, the stereotypes that people jump on when it comes to Steph’s socioeconomic status. Like I’ve mentioned before: Arthur is a criminal, Crystal is a drug addict, and Steph is a teen mom. Therefore, they must be poor, right? Because good middle class families supposedly don’t have those kinds of problems.

But, as I’ve mentioned before, that’s an inaccurate stereotype that ignores reality: plenty of drug addicts, criminals and teen moms live in the suburbs. And the Browns’ specific circumstances are distinctly atypical of the stereotype—Arthur’s not some down-on-his-luck thief pushed to crime by economic hardship, he’s an arrogant former gameshow host who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else and resents the world for not handing him the success he feels entitled to. Crystal’s not some crack addict, she’s a working nurse who used to get her doctor friends to write her scripts for prescription painkillers. And Steph is just a teenage girl who slept with a boy and got pregnant, with the costs of prenatal care and/or childrearing never seeming to be a factor in her decision to bring the child to term and give it up for adoption. 

I could go on but that’s pretty much the long and short of it: Steph is simply not shown as being poor in the comics. Ever. She’s not rich, she does clearly rely on her fists much more than any gadgets or fancy gear and lives with her mother rather than moving out on her own for college, but she’s also never shown worrying about student loans and can apparently pay for all her classes with some government assistance and a part-time job alone.

People just assume that she’s poor because they’re misinformed, or they’re projecting, or they’ve got biases they haven’t examined, or they need her to be an underdog to justify their argument against one of the other characters, or they really want her to be buddy-buds with Jason for some reason. 

Or, y’know, they just don’t want to acknowledge that they’re rooting for a middle-class white girl from the suburbs who commutes into the inner city to pick fights for fun. 

[holnnetd]

No rejection under my roof

Tbh, I saw a silly little tiktok and I was like, damn. Me too. So anyway, I'm projecting (it fucking took me ChatGPT to figure out what that word was again) and I truly believe the men are just like that.

So have some silly headcanons:

(I haven't proofread it yet, so sorry for everyone reading this!)

This is only fiction, please remember.

Jonathan Price is... oddly okay with it. You need to work on your career you say? He's sure he could pull some strings. Well, only if you go out with him to that new coffee shop down town. Just to discuss the opportunities of your future. Of course. He's pretty sure he'd look great with a successful lad next to him. He'd show you off, proudly telling that you don't only look godly and make the best spaghetti, but you're also a badass that's hardworking.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick smiles as you deny him, telling you that it's fine and he understands. Until he shows up to your family home one day, chatting up your relatives like they are old friends? You smile kindly, confused as to why he's here and you just hear your family say what a nice boy he is and that he helped them carry groceries one day. Even helped them cook that dish they'd only eat for special occasions. Really, what s weird coincidence. Oh and they want you guys to know eachother? Maybe date? Huh... Really suspicious.

Simon "Ghost" Riley would stand stumped before you, feeling slightly confused and embarrassed at being rejected. Why would you... Reject him? He can't go back to the team after they told him to go for it. He'd stare at you in silence, believing you straight up just didn't hear him. So with a gruff expression he asks again, "would you want to date me?", just to make sure you hear him right.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish is absolutely convinced that "I'm freshly after a break up" means "Please make me forget about him" and he takes it as his personal challenge. Without knowing the reason of Saud breakup, he will blame to ex, saying that he should have watched out better for such a beautiful lad like yourself! What batter way to get on your annoying, bad ex then to send him a video of you getting absolutely fucked into next week by a bigger dick then he could have hoped to have? Really, that would crash anyone's ego.

Alejandro Vargas would be pretty persistent. He's a man of passion and I cannot accentuate it enough, but he would do so much for anyone he likes. He knows that maybe he's about to destroy a 7 year friendship with you, but he really can't stop himself from physically kissing up your hands to pepper your pretty, pretty face with every bit of love. You're precious! Please let him shower you with his love. He might start showing up at your house every day if you don't!

Rodolfo Parra listens carefully as you tell him that you have too much on your plate right now to accept. Really it's too much. And he just smiles awkwardly, handing you the bouquet, "we can eat together if it's that much. Two heads is more then one" he says and if you're not swooned, you don't deserve him. He is by your side to help you out with any problem you might have. Too much to chew? Well, only metaphorically speaking, give some to him. (Please don't literally, I swear it's just a metaphor) There is nothing he can't handle with a little bit of stubbornes and persuasion.

Valeria Garza wouldn't take it to heart. She understands being in any shape of form tied to the mafia has huge risks and maybe not everyone's preference, but she stays open for you to come back. Talking you that she will always help out if there is a problem. And problems did came surely. Someone framed you for stealing? The cops were being awfully rude, gave you a speeding ticket and then someone broke into your house? Bad luck, huh? You can't stay in your house after it being demolished, but you really don't want to risk your family with had luck. So the only way out is to grab the hand and become a mafia bosses spouse. Don't worry, she made sure no one else dared to touch you anymore.

Philip Graves wouldn't take no for an answer. No matter your argument. You have a boyfriend? Doesn't matter, dump him. Philip is better. He has money, a charming smile, even more money, and lawyers that could sweep one dead body under the rug. Maybe 3, if you are as stubborn as he is. But when there is no man in your life? Oh, he's so guilt tripping you with his money into dating. He brought you so many gifts, how can you say no while there is a fresh bouquet of flowers in front of your door with a box of jewellery with his initials somewhere engraved on them?

Farrah Karim. Nah, just why would you reject her, really? Don't. No one would. She's sweet.

Alex Keller doesn't understand what you mean. You see him as family? Good, he's a family man! It sounds to him like you want a family with him, and hell who is he to deny his beautiful girlfriend a family. You want a kid? Sure! You don't want one? You two can settle with a dog for the time being, really. He's an open guy, not really wanting to accept denial. It's not really denial at this point. Family loves eachother! So you two have to do that too. And maybe love eachother in bed.

Vladimir Makarov wouldn't even ask to be dating. He'd send not so vague threats and straight up demand of you to be his spouse. You were kidnapped and threatened with a gun to your head to marry him. Yeah. That's... How it went. Very romantic. It's either a, you die now or you die later with me. And hopefully not being stupid you'd rather live with a terrorist for a while, not having to worry about working until you two die. Maybe separately, maybe if you stay loyal and nice to him he will hold you while either of you dies. That's the most romance you will get from this power driven man.

Now come the fake ahh characters that I especially love:

"König" (of course) would be devastated to hear that you cannot date someone like him. Why is that? Is it the amount of dead bodies he had touched with his hands?? He will wear gloves whenever touching you, of course! Maybe it's because of the scars on his body? Don't worry, he will get tattoos over them so you don't have to see any! Maybe it's how he looks??? He swears he will shave his arms and legs and cut his hair- No! It's because if his height, right Schatz? He's to tall, of course... Well don't worry your head, he doesn't mind staying on his knees. Actually he's quite fond to stay there, as long as your legs are on his shoulders and he gets to press his lips into your flesh. Poor overthinking puppy.

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin is looking at you with a raised brow as you tell him you can't stand him. Well then sit down. He drags a chair over to you, forcing you to sit down on it. You will sit, until you can stand him again. And then you will go on a date. Tired of him? Take a nap, it's not that deep. Hell, maybe a good cuddle session in his bed is what you need! He will drag you to his bed, in uniform or not, force you to lay down before plopping on top of you, making sure you're not tired anymore. Tsk, escaping from the tiger? Please.

[yanderenightmare]

Do you normally get any 'ew, you're disgusting' shit in your inbox? I just now posted my first incest fic and got one like 'i hope you don't have any siblings lalala'. Prior to that, I was like "how do these authors go untouched by antis?" but then I realised that it was a tad bit naive of me lol. I was going to respond with a taunt but decided to just delete it because it wasn't worth the effort.

Are they frequent and are they easy to ignore?

Good question! I was actually going to make a post on this, as others have asked me the same thing, so here we go!

♡ Personal experience!

I get my fair share of hate from time to time—more often when I publish things that are more taboo than other excepted things—for example, like you say, incest, as well as bestiality, wide age gap, born-sexy-yesterday readers, etc.

It's an odd thing, as haters will often accept the fact that I write rape for titillation but will take issue with these other tropes. But anyway, we can talk about the nonsensical opinions of haters all day, but it wouldn't really do us any good.

So, here's my advice.

♡ First off, accept that haters are gonna hate!

Some people won't like what you write. And that's fine. The problem is that they feel the need to tell you that—at which point, you'll just have to console yourself by telling yourself that no decent person would be rude to a total stranger whom they don't know the first thing about and, therefore, whatever they have to say warrants neither second thought nor reply.

With that being said, however...

♡ You gotta do what feels right!

Engage or don't engage, do what you need to feel at peace. Sure, you can be the so-called bigger man and ignore all the meanies, but you absolutely don't have to!

Of course, we can be cool as cucumbers and say, "Not worth the effort," but who are we kidding? This is Tumblr, and you're allowed to rant when you want in whatever manner you want!

So, if you feel you gotta bite back to maintain your sanity, then that's what you should!

However, I do believe there's a way to go about it!

♡ Never go to bed angry!

This is my personal advice, but if you ever choose to acknowledge hate or critique, do so with tact and with based and factual arguments instead of slinging heated insults in return.

This way, you walk away from the fight feeling good about what you've said and not worse off than before. In other words, don't stoop down to their level.

I actually feel in many ways that answering hate can be rather therapeutic this way, as you've succesfully turned something negative into soemthing positive!

♡ The difference between hate and critique!

Actually doesn't matter. You're not really obligated to answer either if you don't want to.

But for the sake of differentiating the two: "Ew, you're disgusting" is hateful slander, but "Incest is wrong, and you're actively condoning it by writing what you write" is a genuine critique.

And it bears repeating, you don't have to address either because you don't owe anyone anything.

People are entiteld to their opnions just as much as you're free to disagree, and ignore if you want!

But something I've found is that explaining it to those who don't understand why we write such things, and furthermore why people want to read it without being interested in such things in real life, is actually quite a rewarding thing to do!

And by that, I mean it might make your critics and haters understand and rethink their comments, but it can also help your existing fans deal with their own similar self-loathing, and lastly, it's even great for your own mental health for when you yourself doubt your own mental standing!

Personally, in regard to the example I used above, when I get hit with the "you're condoning this and that" I just play the argument that those who play violent videogames aren't condoning the killing carried out by their avatar. Naturally, when roleplaying a fictional version of ourselves, we're not actually playing as ourselves.

Some people have a very hard time understanding this for some reason.

But anyway, moving on.

♡ Final advice!

Ignore and delete any and all the dumb, off-handed comments you feel like. If and when you want, return their rudeness with a cheeky smile and a slap on their ass. Be as cordial as you can be but as sassy as you feel you must—like an aged Queen who drinks her fair share of likewise wine.

But whatever you do, don't ever make things personal!

Though that's also my personal advice. I think, by making personal attacks, you're not being factual anymore, and you'll only feel worse for it. And by personal attacks, I mean calling people ignorant, dumb, awful, etc. You can, of course, say that their chosen words were in ill taste, but going after them themselves won't make you feel better. So, I'd suggest avoiding it.

Anyway, hope this helps!

[radioactiverats]

Mistletoe: Ratchet x reader

Ratchet's brows furrow when he sees the haphazardly taped sprig of nature taped to the doorway. It must be a human custom, but he has no idea how a human would have managed to tape it to the top of an autobot-sized doorframe... unless, there was help. What was this about, anyway? As far as he knew, "Christmas" was when humans gathered together with their family. What did a sprig of their planet's natural flora have to do with it?

"Ratchet!" he hears you call, some time later. He turns round from his desk to acknowledge you, and sees you're wearing that customary red hat and a beaming grin, cheeks flushed red with cheer and mulled wine.

"Merry Christmas!" you greet, and even though he doesn't quite understand the festival just yet, it seems polite to return your greeting, since you've come all the way across the base, away from the party, to share the spirit of the festival with him. At the very least, seeing you so happy warms his spark - it's a nice change after a period of watching you struggle with work, with life, constant dark circles and that vacant look in your eyes.

You sway a little, tipsy from the wine, catching yourself on the doorframe. "Ep, ep, ep," Ratchet scolds, even if it's more out of concern than anything. Already, he's striding over to steady you in his warm servos, and you flop into them without a second thought. When had you become so comfortable around each other?

You gaze unabashedly at him from where you're lying upside down in his servos, silly grin still on your face. Ratchet brings you level with his faceplate to ex-vent exasperatedly at you, but the look in his optics is fond.

"I missed you, Ratchet," you say, shifting clumsily to sit upright in his cupped servos. "Won't you join the party?"

His optics widen for a nanoklik - you've never been this honest about your feelings with him. Sure, it was you he spent the most time with, and he'd privately allowed himself to bask in every second of it. But he'd assumed that there was an unspoken boundary that could not be crossed, and the fact that you showed up every day and the fact that his optics softened when he saw you spoke for itself. You missed him? You miss him?

"Yes, well," Ratchet says gruffly. He's never been good at this. "I had some work to finish."

"Always so hardworking," you scold, even if you admire him for it. "In that case, I'll just have to stay here with you, won't I?"

The atmosphere around the both of you can only be described as warm - you looking cheekily up at him, and a small but genuine smile on his faceplate. You flop back again, preparing to be carried to his desk - and Ratchet sees your eyes suddenly lock on something above you.

He glances up as well, and - ah. He'd forgotten about that sprig of flora taped above the doorway. "What is that?" he asks, curious after all. It's a surprise, though, to look down and see you blushing bright red - humans do that when they're embarrassed, don't they?

"It's mistletoe," you answer. You sheepishly glance away as you fumble through the rest of your explanation. "There's a custom where whoever gets caught under the mistletoe at the same time has to kiss."

You've long accepted that you have a raging crush on the autobot medic, just as you've long accepted that he probably would never reciprocate your feelings.

"Is that so?" Ratchet hums. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to partake in human traditions this once."

Your head shoots up at that. Did you hear that correctly? Maybe he was just indulging you, unaware of the implications. But you meet his optics, and the look on his faceplate is so soft, gazing at you like... like he wants this too.

You scramble up onto your knees, closer to him. "Are you sure?" you can't help but ask, not daring to believe that there might be a chance.

"Why don't you show me how this tradition of yours works?" is what Ratchet says in response, and that's your cue to lean forwards and gently press your mouth to his intake in a chaste but sweet kiss.

Ratchet makes a noise, as if surprised by how soft your lips were - and then he's bringing you closer to initiate another kiss, spark warming at how you laugh breathlessly against his intake and respond in kind.

"Merry Christmas, Ratchet," you breathe, as you press your forehead to his helm. There will be a lot to talk about, but for now, your hearts are united under the mistletoe.