#launch is pretty important after all

[anime-scarves]

A new set of TFT is out and that means it's time to stream! Come stop on by and watch for a bit.

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[desigal-26]

Because I believe that no one acknowledges the fact that Oscar has won such beautiful trophies

Pretty Trophies

Oscar Piastri x Female!Reader

He had pretty trophies, but none compares to her

‘“You’re the best prize I’ve ever gotten,” he whispered, like it was a secret just for her. “For all the years I’ve struggled. For the pressure, the sacrifices, the doubt. For the late nights, the empty airports, the near-misses. You are the thing I never saw coming. And nothing I’ll ever win on track will feel as important as winning you.”’

Warnings: Reader gets a bit insecure—but no worries, our Osc is there to handle everything. Just Fluff.

Word Count: 1.2K (I know, it’s short)

Oscar sighed contentedly, pressing his back against the hotel room door as it clicked shut behind him. For a moment, he let his eyes fall closed, allowing the events of the past few hours to settle around him like soft, triumphant waves.

He was leading the World Driver’s Championship.

The first Australian to do so since his own mentor — and now manager — Mark Webber.

Five wins in eight races had earned him 186 points and a ten-point lead over his teammate. The numbers were surreal. Clean. Ruthless. Beautiful.

But for tonight, Oscar didn’t care about standings, margins, or strategy. Not now. Not after a day like this — a day that had meant more than just a P1.

This win had been personal.

His young sister, Eddie, had flown in for the race, her bright grin beaming down from the garage. And sitting in the paddock, heart in her hands and eyes full of pride, was the woman he loved — attending her first race of the season.

He had made sure to sign the champagne bottle in both of their names, a quiet little gesture captured on camera — though it took fans a while to decipher what it meant. And by the time they had… it was already making the rounds on Twitter, Instagram, and F1 Tumblr edits with captions like “soft launch of the century.”

But none of that mattered as much as the woman sitting on the bed in front of him now.

He opened his eyes, and the moment he did, the tired, composed exterior of a race-winning driver melted into something far more vulnerable. Something real.

There she was — his girl — perched cross-legged in one of his shirts, her gaze soft as she studied the newly acquired trophy resting in her lap. Her fingers traced the sharp, intricate lines of the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya like it was something sacred.

Oscar’s breath caught a little. Not because of the win. But because of the look on her face.

That reverent little smile.

The shine in her eyes.

The faint pink in her cheeks from when Lando had teased her about being “Oscar’s Lady Luck” in the media pen.

She was his calm in a storm, the quiet balance in his fast-paced world. Before her, he didn’t believe in luck — only in precision, data, and consistency. But then she arrived like a quiet miracle — a soft summer breeze across his sunburnt skin, a snowfall that whispered instead of screamed. Something divine choosing to belong in his world of rubber and fire.

The bed dipped slightly as he settled beside her. He didn’t speak — he just watched. Not the trophy. But her.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on the curves of the trophy.

“You’re staring too,” he countered, voice low.

“At an inanimate object,” she said with a shrug, finally glancing up — her lips curved in a smile that made his chest ache in the best way.

With a sigh, she gently placed the trophy on the bedside table, her eyes flicking back to his. “I’ve got what I really came for anyway,” she whispered, voice playful, and edged closer to him with a mischievous twinkle in her gaze.

“You’re thinking something,” Oscar observed, eyebrow raised.

“Am I?” she whispered back, nose brushing his as she pressed a featherlight kiss against its tip.

He immediately scrunched his face, caught off guard, which made her burst into a giggle — full, warm, and alive.

“You love doing that,” he groaned, though the corners of his mouth curled helplessly into a smile.

“I just love your nose scrunches,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice all sweetness and mischief. “They make you look like a golden retriever.”

He rolled his eyes, but his hands had already moved — one sliding around her waist to pull her against him. She yelped in surprise, half-laughing, half-gasping as she landed in his lap, hands pressed to his chest.

“Careful,” she warned, voice breathless. “You’re still a national treasure right now. Must protect the asset.”

“I’ll risk it,” Oscar murmured, brushing her hair gently off her face. “Besides… pretty sure you’re the one who brought me luck today.”

She tilted her head, smiling softly, eyes locked on his. “Then I guess you’ll have to keep me around till Abu Dhabi, huh?”

He didn’t even blink.

“Long after that,” he promised.

She giggled softly, still caught in his embrace, before her eyes flickered toward the gleaming silver resting on the bedside table.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “You love collecting pretty trophies, don’t you?”

The question caught him mid-movement. His fingers paused where they’d been brushing the curve of her back, his brows knitting in faint confusion. He tilted his head to the side, an amused quirk in his lips.

“What?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

She grinned and gestured lazily toward the Spanish Grand Prix trophy. “I mean, just look at that. And the rest of them. Last year’s Hungarian GP, this year’s Chinese, Saudi Arabia…” She wrinkled her nose in mock frustration. “And I know I’m forgetting a few. Maybe Bahrain?”

Oscar chuckled under his breath. “You’re not wrong,” he murmured, his eyes warm as they studied her.

She shifted just enough to rest her chin against his chest, her voice still playful but quieter now — edged with something she didn’t name.

“You like collecting beautiful things. Earning them.”

Oscar didn’t speak at first. He just looked at her, really looked — the way her lashes fluttered, the way her mouth tilted into a half-smile even as her eyes held something a little more fragile. A little unsure.

And then he gently tilted her chin up so her gaze met his completely.

“I do like collecting beautiful things,” he said softly, voice slow and certain. “But those trophies? They’re just metal. Stats. Symbols.”

His thumb brushed against her cheek, the gesture unbearably tender.

“You’re the best prize I’ve ever gotten,” he whispered, like it was a secret just for her. “For all the years I’ve struggled. For the pressure, the sacrifices, the doubt. For the late nights, the empty airports, the near-misses. You are the thing I never saw coming. And nothing I’ll ever win on track will feel as important as winning you.”

Her eyes widened slightly, the air catching in her throat.

Oscar smiled gently, forehead brushing against hers.

“I’d give up every podium for you. No hesitation.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty — it was full. Of meaning. Of weight. Of promises unsaid but deeply understood.

She opened her mouth to say something, but emotion clogged her voice, and instead, she leaned in — pressing her lips softly to his. It wasn’t rushed or fiery, but reverent, like she was answering with everything she couldn’t put into words.

When they pulled apart, she whispered against his mouth, “You make it very hard to stay composed, Piastri.”

He smirked. “Good. Because I’ve been completely ruined for composure since the moment I saw you in that bloody paddock sundress.”

She laughed, her face buried in the crook of his neck now, and he held her tighter, as if the world could melt around them and he’d still be exactly where he wanted to be.

With her.

His real victory.

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ REWIND TO YOU 　　────　ᅠ ( myung jaehyun )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your reunion with one of the most important people in your life, myung jaehyun, was not like what you hoped for at all. instead of a heartwarming session of two best friends meeting each other after a decade of lost contact, you’re facing a person who seemed to forget a meaningful childhood spent together, like it meant nothing at all.

　　　ᅠ 명재현 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 shy!reader ⠀wc 14.6k ⠀ genre fluff angst childhood friends to lovers high school au ⠀ contains mentions of food skinship random ocs some bnd members and shinyu ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net , @onedoornet

　　　ᅠ 　　　ᅠ BEST ENJOYED WITH .. l i f e i s c o o l by boynextdoor, amnesia by boynextdoor, in bloom by zerobaseone, teenage dream by stephen dawes, unfinished business by neriah, if i say i love you by boynextdoor, old with you by grentperez, but you by ikon & serenade by boynextdoor

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ i hope all of you enjoy this spin i made out of the usual childhood friends to lovers trope! and soph.. i dedicate this to you (Pls Spare me), and if you ask, yes i will dedicate every single leehan and myungjae fic to my wifey!

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

 “I HATE YOU, MYUNG JAEHYUN!”

Your screams echoed through the playground, accompanied by Jaehyun’s loud giggles. You took a deep breath as you chased him around, your hair flying behind you. Jaehyun had ‘cheated’ when the two of you were playing hide and seek a few minutes ago—he went on asking around the other kids if they had seen you. And one of the stupider kids did tell him that he saw you inside the slide. 

Jaehyun was quickly out of breath as he was laughing his heart out while running, and you caught up to him pretty quickly. You launched yourself at him, tackling him to the ground. You hit his chest several times, pouting. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Jaehyun said, blocking your hits. His laughter died down, but that insufferable grin was still glued to his face. He was obviously loving all the attention he’s getting from his best friend—even though she’s sitting on top of him, sulkily pinning him to the ground. 

“It’s unfair,” you huffed. You eventually stopped hitting him, but you were still a little upset. How could Jaehyun win, especially by cheating?

“I’m sorry, Sunshine,” he said, his dreadful smirk morphing into a small yet soft smile. “You’re just too good at hide-and-seek.”

“That doesn’t mean you can cheat,” you replied, a pout still evident in your expressions. 

Jaehyun pursed his lips, and for a while, he stayed silent—the gears in his brain working to think of a solution for you. “What about this—let’s go to the convenience store and buy some Pepero or whatever you want. It’s on me!”

You couldn’t stop a smile from erupting on your face. The key to your heart was the simplest thing in the entire world: food, and Jaehyun knew this—and he often used this fact to its fullest potential. It didn’t really help that he’s your best friend, too, so he clearly knew what your favourites were. You weren’t exactly complaining, though. Jaehyun liked to tease you, and as compensation for making you a little pouty, he’d buy or offer you some food.

A win-win situation for seven-year-olds.

“Okay!” you agreed cheerfully. 

And that’s how you found yourself, happily munching on Pepero and chocolate churro chips on the way back to the playground from the store. Jaehyun walked next to you, holding a bunch of candy in his hands. 

You were munching on your snacks, and were just about to thank him for the Pepero when Jaehyun leaned in, stealing a big bite of the Pepero from your hand. 

You shrieked in shock, pouting after realising what had happened. 

“Jaehyun!” you whined, hitting his arm.

Jaehyun giggled. “You snooze, you lose,” he teased with a stupid grin. 

You crossed your arms, huffing. “Some best friend you are.”

Jaehyun’s grin immediately faltered. He quickly broke the chocolate chip cookie he was nibbling on in half, handing you the bigger piece. “Here. Best friends share, right?”

You eyed him rather suspiciously before taking it. “Fine. But you owe me for life.”

“How does that work?” Jaehyun asked, tilting his head slightly. 

“We’d have to be best friends forever,” you replied. The look on your face was enough to tell how serious you meant your words, even for a first grader. “That way, you can always buy me food every day.”

“What if… I won’t be here tomorrow?” Jaehyun asked. You immediately turned to him, confused. That wasn’t what you expected from him as an answer. 

You took a minute of munching through your chips for you to analyse Jaehyun’s doubtful expression. “What are you talking about? Don’t be silly,” you shoved his shoulder. “You’re always here.”

Jaehyun smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then, promise me—let’s be best friends,  no matter what happens.”

You paused, staring right into his eyes.  

Jaehyun looked at you, his face mixed with some kind of fondness and amusement. “Promise me, Sunshine?” he asked, holding out his pinky in a solemn promise. “Best friends forever.”

You returned his gaze, a smile forming on your face as you linked your pinky with his, sealing the promise without a second of hesitation. “Always.”

The words echoed in the air, and from the way the winds caressed your skin, it’s like the universe had taken note of your promise to each other. 

However, you were completely unaware that this would be the last day you’d spend with him. 

The next afternoon, after completing tasks that your mother had told you to do, you rushed to Jaehyun’s house—a few mere blocks away—with a bag of homemade cookies in hand. A big smile was painted across your face, you were excited to surprise Jaehyun with the sweet treats that you had baked with your mother last night. 

But something was wrong. 

The front yard, usually scattered with Jaehyun’s soccer balls and bicycles, was oddly empty. The windows were shut tight, and the driveway—where his father’s car was always parked—was vacant. 

You felt your heart thump hard against your chest. Your grip on the paper bag tightened, and you approached the front door. 

You knocked. 

Nothing. 

“Jaehyun?” 

You knocked again, harder this time. 

“Myungjae? It’s me, Y/N–”

“Sweetheart? Who are you looking for?” 

You turned towards the voice straight away. It was the old lady who lived next door, the one who always made sure to give you and Jaehyun a popsicle whenever you two passed by her house. She had a gentle yet unreadable smile on her face. You ran up to her, head spinning with a dozen questions. 

“Where’s Jaehyun?” you asked her. 

“My dear…” she began, her voice soft. “Jaehyun left early this morning.”

You blinked. The words were heavy, but you couldn’t understand what they meant. “Left? Where?”

“They moved away.”

Nothing made sense. Jaehyun moved? No one had said anything about moving. 

You looked back towards Jaehyun’s house, hoping that the door would swing open and that he would come running towards you, grinning like he always did. 

But he didn’t come. 

The house was quiet, empty. 

Your throat tightened. “But he promised to play. He said he would… stay.”

The lady kneeled in front of you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

You bit your lips, and you didn’t realise you were crying until you tasted salt on your lips. 

Later that evening, you had found yourself wandering back to the playground, the noisy chatter of kids playing around fading into the background. The paper bag still in hand, you walked around aimlessly. You could still hear Jaehyun’s laughter ringing in your ears, the sound of your footsteps blending with his as you two ran around. 

Jaehyun was gone.

And he didn’t even say goodbye. 

You sat down at a bench overlooking the playground where the two of you always played, staring at the place where you both had linked pinkies and made a promise. A promise you had believed in with all your heart.

A promise that, it seemed, only you remembered.

“I’LL see you after school, sweetie,” your father says into your hair. You set your lips into a line, nodding timidly. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” your mother asks, appearing from behind your father. “We can always accompany you to school–”

“Darling,” your father reminds your mother by putting a gentle hand on her arm. “Our Y/N will be fine. She’s almost eighteen now, I’m sure she can handle it all.” 

You give your parents a reassuring smile before walking away, each step bringing you uncomfortably away from home.

The morning felt weird, anyway. You’re here, in a new school, in a state you’ve never set foot to before. The air here feels like a heavy fog, clinging to your chest as you stand in front of the towering school building. You could feel the weight of an agonising unknown pressing down on you. It’s a sensation that you could never get used to, despite the sun peeking through the clouds, and the bustling cacophony of students around you. You stand at the gates, fingers tightly grasping the straps of your backpack. You take a deep breath, remembering your mother’s advice to help overcome your nerves. 

You walk into your new school, the new feeling of being somewhere so unfamiliar enveloping you. It feels different from the school you left behind—the campus is bigger here, the hallways seemed endless and much wider, and each turn made you feel like you’re lost in a looping maze. They even have a separate building for the library.

You find your footsteps slowing down as you reach the middle of the common area, unsure of where you should go. Your eyes dart here and there, desperately trying to find some kind of clue that could help you. 

You had always been the quiet one, preferring to keep to yourself, listening more than you talked, the one that often found herself slipping to the background of a party and corner of classrooms. Currently surrounded by boisterous students, each seeming to know what they’re doing, you feel slightly overwhelmed. The school map you opened on your phone suddenly feels too complicated for you to understand. 

Suddenly, something solid crashes against the back of your head, causing you to stumble forward, the impact hard enough to make the books you’re holding fall to the ground. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!”

You turn to reply, but find your words stuck in your throat. 

A tall guy in a basketball jersey stands before you, his hair tousled in an athletic tangle. He picks up the ball—the solid object that hit the back of your head a moment ago—and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. He gives you a sheepish smile, trying his best to convey how sorry he is—but you’re too focused on his sharp features and messy brown hair. It’s all too familiar. 

Myung Jaehyun. 

Before you could say anything, he leans down and picks up your books. He hands them to you, a charming smile replacing whatever backward expression he had earlier. “Careful there, newbie,” he says, teasing. “Wouldn’t want to be trampled on your first day here, no?”

You take your books from him, dazed. 

He doesn’t recognise you. 

You watch as he jogs back to his friends, spinning the orange ball in his hands. You stand there, exactly where he left you, unsure of what to do next. 

YOU’RE sitting alone at lunch, perfectly at peace with your packed lunchbox. You sit quietly, not wanting to stand out. This is your first day at a completely new school, and the last thing you want is to make yourself the centre of attention. 

Unfortunately, fate had written that this was your first mistake. 

You’re about to enjoy your lunch in the comfort of solitude, a figure that you didn’t expect to see, again, slips into the seat in front of you.

“Hey, newbie,” you hear Jaehyun say as he takes a seat. “Eating alone?”

You simply nod, not knowing what to say. 

“So, um,” Jaehyun finds himself stuttering after not receiving a reply from you. “You’re the new student, right? That explains the self-introduction in class just now.”

You nod again. Seeing the pitiful look on his face, masked poorly by a confident demeanor, you decide to reply. “Yes. I just moved here.”

Jaehyun’s face lights up like a lightbulb. 

“I’m Jaehyun, if you didn’t know that,” he grins. “I’m in your homeroom! My seat is behind you.”

You noticed that, of course. Who wouldn’t recognise someone whose laugh echoed throughout the room, brightening the atmosphere like the rays of a bright spring morning?

You give him a small smile. 

“Your seatmate, Sanghyeok, is my friend! He told me you seemed… er, lonely,” he hesitates for a while, “so I came up with a genius plan,” Jaehyun reveals with a grin that you’re a bit too familiar with. 

He’d always flash that big smile towards you whenever he wanted to propose a plan, but didn’t really want to take credit for it, in case it was a little too ridiculous. 

“What is it?” you reply. 

“We should be friends,” Jaehyun responds, and your eyes widen almost immediately. 

What does he mean by that?

Your heart begins to race, not just because you’re shocked to see Jaehyun, who was once the most important person in your life, after so many years—but from the fact that he naturally is taking charge, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it came to him with no hesitation. 

“It’s all good! I talked to my friends—Sanghyeok, Sungho, Yoona and Minji—about this, and they all seem pretty cool about it.”

“Oh,” is all you’re able to manage. Everything is moving a little too briskly, and you’re feeling a bit dizzy from how fast things are escalating. 

You feel your brain short-circuiting. 

Just like that?

No hesitation? No ‘wait, Y/N? Is that you?’? No recognition?

You swallow hard. 

“Thank you?” you say, wary. You take a small bite of your sandwich. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Jaehyun beams, and as if on cue, he waves towards a group of people behind you. You turn around, eyes slightly bulging at the way Jaehyun’s friends are quickly approaching your table. You recognise Sanghyeok, naturally, and the girl with a bubbly smile that you assume would be Yoona, but the rest of his friends are new faces for you. 

Jaehyun barely left any room for you to process anything. 

As quickly as they came, the air begins to smell like snacks and sports equipment—a strangely uplifting scent. 

“Guys, meet Y/N!” Jaehyun announces as soon as his friends arrive, putting away their things. “She’s the new kid I told you guys about.”

You look at him for a few seconds. 

Jaehyun is beaming with a smile, and the way he introduced you with such confidence, like you’ve been best friends since forever, makes your heart thump in a weird way.

“Wow, that was fast,” the tall, broad shouldered boy comments, whistling playfully. “Already claiming her as one of us?”

Jaehyun puffs his chest out. “Of course, I have a talent for spotting good people–”

“Hi, nice to meet you, Y/N,” Yoona quickly says, rolling her eyes at Jaehyun. She takes the empty seat next to you. “We’re in the same homeroom. My name is Im Yoona.”

You give her a polite smile. 

A girl with sharp eyes and an amused smile displayed on her face slips into the seat next to Yoona. “So, did he actually ask if you’d like us to sit with you, or did he have you sit here unwillingly?”

You hesitate. “Unwillingly…?”

“Shut up, Minji,” Jaehyun grumbles as the entire group bursts into laughter. 

“That’s Jaehyun for you,” Sanghyeok, your desk mate, says to you. He then gives you a warm smile, just like earlier. “Do you like how KOZ Academy is so far?”

You take a little bite out of your sandwich. “It’s fine. I like how big the campus is.”

“That’s what I always brag about this school,” Minji, who’s been quiet for a while, adds in. The smile on her face is relaxed. “I’ve been here since freshman year, and I still can’t fathom the way we have a swimming pool and tennis courts.”

You nod enthusiastically, recalling how you did see the facilities she mentioned in the school map. 

“Speaking of that, should we give the newbie a tour of the school?” Jaehyun suggests, his face lightening up with excitement. He barely swallows his food as he’s giving you a bright, friendly grin. 

“You speak of her like she’s not in front of you,” the tall boy sighs. He turns to you, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry. Y/N, isn’t it? I’m Sungho.”

You nod. “Yeah. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you want us to give you a tour of the school?” Yoona asks. She gestures to Jaehyun. “Don’t worry, this dumbass won’t be in charge of it.”

“Hey!” Jaehyun exclaims. 

“You’ll just show her the boring parts of school,” Minji chimes in. 

Jaehyun makes a bewildered expression. “I will not–!”

“Remember the time when Sanghyeok first came to this school? You showed him all the unnecessary classrooms that you didn’t have time to show him where the lunch card machine is,” Sungho adds, laughing.  

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. He passes you a snack. “You’re all so dramatic. Anyway,” he says, shifting his gaze to you. “Don’t mind them, Y/N. You’re welcome here—just sit back and relax.”

You nod, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that it’s the only reaction you’re able to give them so far. You’re not so sure that you’re able to relax when all these new faces have their eyes on you, but surprisingly, their energy isn’t too bad. It’s welcoming, bustling with a friendly spirit. It’s uncomfortable, sure, but it’s not unkind. 

Jaehyun passes you another snack he grabbed from Sanghyeok’s stash, and something in your chest begins to warm. 

Maybe it’s not too bad at all. 

THE next day feels like a dream. 

You arrive at school pretty early, and much to your surprise, you’re greeted warmly by Yoona, who also happens to arrive at the same time as you. She hops off the bus and jogs towards you, catching up to you as soon as you park your bicycle. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” she smiles at you. 

You mirror her expression. “Good morning.”

“It’s still early… Do you want to go to the common area?” Yoona suggests. “I’m sure the rest will already be there.”

You simply nod. “Cool. Let’s go.”

Yoona links her arm with yours, and together, you walk towards the common area. It’s bustling and loud despite it being only half past seven. Most of the energy radiates from Jaehyun and his group of friends: the boys are tossing a basketball up and down—even though they’re clearly indoors, and they shouldn’t be playing with a ball inside. Minji sits on the sofa nearby, leaning back as she lazily reads through a novel, completely unbothered with the ruckus around her. 

As soon as you arrive, Yoona puts her bag down, sitting down next to Minji and they both begin chatting about whatever topic that comes to mind. You, however, aren’t used to this kind of energy—fast-paced, full of jokes and friendly banter. You sit at the edge of the sofa, unsure of how you’d insert yourself into the conversation. 

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is thriving. As always. 

“Bet I can make the shot from here,” he brags, crumpling a snack wrapper in his hands. He gestures to the trash can, located at the far corner of the room. 

“No way,” Sungho scoffs. “That’s, like, ten feet away.”

“You’re all talk, MJ,” Sanghyeok chimes in, laughing. 

Jaehyun smirks, turning to you. “Yo, new kid. Believe in me?”

You meet his eyes, blinking profusely. “Uh…” 

The group laughs, and Jaehyun gives you an exaggerated gasp. He puts a hand over his chest in a dramatic manner. “Wow. The hesitation? I’m hurt.”

“Well–” you say, pausing. You’re unsure if you should say what your thoughts really are, or if you should play it safe. You bit your lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious of the way you’re sitting.

“You’ll miss, definitely,” you quietly mumble. 

For a second—one that felt way too long—Jaehyun stares. 

Then, he throws his head back, laughing his lungs out. “Yo, she’s got a bite! I like her.”

You gape at him, not knowing what to respond to the grin he flashed at you amidst his loud laughter. Your face begins to burn, but the others are nodding in approval.

“Good job,” Minji pats your shoulder. “You’re keeping him humble.”

Sanghyeok hands you a juice box, grinning like his gesture is a kind of initiation. “You’re officially one of us.”

You hesitate, but eventually accept it. 

“Told you you’d fit right in,” Jaehyun says, nudging your side as he grins. 

And just like that, you find yourself smiling back. 

YOU’RE not sure if it’s just you, or it’s that Jaehyun does not remember you at all. It has been quite a long time, you admit that, but you don’t think that it’s reasonable for someone to completely forget someone so important, no matter how long you’ve been without them.

So, for the following weeks, you decided to test the waters, to see if Jaehyun truly did forget you, that if you’re just a passing memory in his childhood. 

“Jaehyun!” you exclaim, running up to the soccer court. The boy perks up, his eyes lightening up as he watches you jog up to him. He was scrolling animatedly on his phone, but when he heard his name being called by you, whatever that he was interested in was tossed aside. 

“Are you done with soccer?” you ask, panting slightly. 

Jaehyun nods. 

“What’s up, newbie?” he then grins, wiping off his sweat using the towel hanging around his neck. 

You cringe slightly at the nickname. “I have a name, you know.”

Jaehyun laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Y/N. What’s wrong though?”

“Nothing,” you reply. You then rummage through your backpack, bringing out a bunch of strawberry fruit roll-ups. You give Jaehyun a small smile before handing them to him. “Here, I thought you’d want them after practice.”

Jaehyun beams, delightfully grabbing the candies. He opens one of them, and when he’s about to put it in his mouth, he pauses mid-action. His eyes turn straight to you, looking fixedly into your gaze. “Wait.” 

You bite the bottom of your lips, trying to contain yourself. 

“What?”

“How’d you know I like these?”

Your eyes bulge slightly, and you quickly purse your lips together to mask a smile. You knew Jaehyun liked these—ever since you started being friends with him, he had made it clear that he liked everything and anything that tastes like strawberries. You remember spending a lot of time in your childhood, trying the various breeds of strawberry, as well as strawberry candies and snacks that Jaehyun had shared with you; and over time, you just naturally knew specifically what he liked.

And turns out, the five foot seven inches high school senior that’s standing in front of you with a baffled expression on his face still does like strawberry flavoured things. 

He is the Myung Jaehyun that your heart holds dear, even after so many years. 

You shrug. “Just a feeling.”

Jaehyun places the fruit roll-up in his mouth, his gaze still trained on you. In his eyes, you can see that he’s questioning your words. But as the candy melts in his mouth, the doubt begins to dissipate, and his charming smile reappears. 

“Thank you,” Jaehyun’s grin twinkles. He grabs another candy and pops it into his mouth.

“These things are crazy—I can’t get enough of how good they taste!” he begins to chatter as he packs his things, his movement as swift as the speed of the words coming out of his mouth. When he’s done, he stands up straight and looks towards you, the expression in his eyes cheerful and full of energy. 

“Let’s go?” Jaehyun prompts. 

You adjust your backpack’s straps on your shoulders. “Go… where?”

“Home?” Jaehyun replies, perching up his eyebrow. He looks at you like you’ve asked the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “You live in my neighbourhood, don’t you? I always see you cycling home from the grocery store on Saturdays.” 

You hesitate. 

The fact that you do live in the same neighbourhood as Jaehyun does is bothering you in ways you’d never thought it would. It reminds you of the painful separation you faced in your early years of life, and to be hit with such a strong déjà vu years later, you’re not sure if you can handle it. 

Seeing you waver, Jaehyun wears his bag on one shoulder, putting his other arm around you. Your shoulder tense, feeling weird at how he’s so completely at ease with you, like he’s grown up with you for years. 

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he says, his voice oddly absent from the cocky confidence he usually wears. Instead, his voice is comfortingly firm. “C’mon, let’s walk home together.”

As he walks with you to the school gate, the warmth of him being close to you makes your heart ache in ways that are alarmingly familiar. 

IT’S been a few weeks of you trying to execute your attempts at making Jaehyun remember you. But, of course, your efforts decided to fail you. It’s annoying—the way he’s obviously out there treating you like you’re the greatest friend he’s ever had, yet whenever you bring up an old joke or an old nickname that you used to call him, he puts on this confused face that makes you want to slap him and yourself. 

One day, during an afternoon study session, you and your friends had pushed your desks together to mug up upon your studies. You were seated between Yoona and Sanghyeok, and directly in front of you was Jaehyun. 

Tired of solving math problems, you began watching Jaehyun solve a math problem, leaning over his desk. His brows were furrowed deeply, showing how tricky the math problem was. And you notice one thing. 

He was subconsciously sticking out the tip of his tongue slightly. It clicked inside your head, and a roll of memories came playing into your sight. His habit is still the same—exactly like he used to when the two of you were playing jigsaw puzzles. 

You snorted to yourself. “You still do that?” you whispered to yourself. 

However, your whisper was loud enough for your friends to catch. “Do what?” Yoona asked, perking up from her physics homework. 

Her question pulled the entirety of Jaehyun’s attention, and his eyes were locking with yours at once. He had a questioning look on his face, and he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to answer. 

Your eyes widened, and you immediately shook your head. “Nothing,” you stammered, looking away as you bit the inner corner of your cheek.

A few days after that, you were sitting on the bleachers of your school’s soccer field, your homework sprawled over your lap. Jaehyun had made you and the girls come over to watch him, Sungho, and Sanghyeok play soccer at the field. You and Minji didn’t want to at first, but Yoona saw it with a positive note—you were sick of studying at the library every afternoon, so studying at the field could be a nice change. 

It was a windy November afternoon, and autumn was giving way to winter, so every single gush of wind felt like a harsh bite to the skin. You squinted, trying to do your homework as you fought with the wind and the coldness it brought along. You’re not too interested in sports, and it didn’t help that you got there when the match was already halfway through, so you didn’t understand a thing that was going on. 

One thing for sure is that it was quite an intense match. 

“I’m not sure if this was a good idea,” Minji muttered. She shoved her hair into her coat, zipping it up. “My hair is flying everywhere and I can’t even see Sanghyeok. How am I supposed to do anything?”

“Sanghyeok, huh?” Yoona laughed. “You can see them a bit—see, look!” she exclaimed, pointing at the slightly smaller figure of the boys, fiercely in their game. “Sungho and Jaehyun’s about to score!”

Hearing that, you immediately looked up from your homework, your attention officially snatched away from the assignment. You watched intently as the game progressed: Sungho, with the ball in his control, dodged a tackle, swiftly running through the field before powerfully passing the ball towards Jaehyun, who effortlessly scores their winning goal. 

It’s a friendly match between your school’s soccer team and another school, but the celebration that roared through was something else. 

Sanghyeok pulled Jaehyun and Sungho into a bear hug, ruffling both their heads. You heard Jaehyun’s victorious laughs and screams echoing around the air. You smiled.

Soccer has always been one of his passions, and seeing him flourish in it makes your heart bloom in ways you never imagine it would. 

You were proud of him, and it’s a refreshing feeling that you never got to feel years ago, when seven-year-old Jaehyun was telling you all about his soccer dreams. 

After freeing himself from Sanghyeok, Jaehyun ran up to the bleachers. Much to your surprise, he was headed straight to you. He came up to you with a pleasant grin, his face flushed with sweat. 

“Hey, I did it,” he said, breathless. He brought his hand out for a high-five. 

And before you could even think, you stood up and clasped his hand in the old secret handshake from your childhood with him. It came to you like second nature—you couldn’t even stop yourself. 

Jaehyun stiffened, his hand still clasped around yours. 

You were equally as shocked as he is. 

Why did you even do that? 

And what was that reaction?

However, Jaehyun was quick to react—he laughed it off, quickly redoing it into a normal high-five. He gave you another grin before turning away to chug water, leaving you confused and unconvinced. 

Now, you’re not too sure that Myung Jaehyun actually forgot you. 

This theory was drilled into your head even more after another incident or two. 

It was a random Tuesday, where Jaehyun had dragged you and the girls to accompany him to do soccer drills at the field with his team. 

“Remind me why we need to do this again,” Minji grumbled, slumping against the seat. 

Yoona sighed, stifling back a grin. “Because MJ said so.”

“I don’t understand! Why can’t we just wait for them at the library? We need to study anyway,” Minji complained, stomping her feet in frustration a few times. 

“They probably just need some moral support,” you chimed in, watching absentmindedly as Jaehyun is making his team run around the field. 

“They’re seniors already, they should be done with all this,” Minji huffed. 

Yoona shrugged. “You know how they are with soccer.”

“Absolute maniacs,” Minji commented, shaking her head. 

You simply nodded and chuckled along to their conversation, eyes trained on Jaehyun coordinating his teammates in soccer training. The actions then became repetitive, and you quickly got bored. You stared off into space, zoning out. Then, without you realising, a soccer ball from a group of freshmen that were practicing near your seats came flying directly towards you. 

Before you could react, Jaehyun instinctively stepped in front of you, shielding you from the ball with his body. 

The ball bounced off him with a thud, and you gasped. You rushed towards him, Minji and Yoona following you from behind. 

“Jaehyun, are you okay?” you asked frantically. 

Jaehyun picked up the ball, turning slightly to give you a grin that tells you that he’s okay. “I’m okay!” he answered, flexing his bicep. “See?” 

And the memory hitted you like a truck—all this reminded you of the time when the two of you were kids, when Jaehyun would always stand in front of you during dodgeball insisting “you’re too small to get hit!”

A quiet gasp escaped between your lips. “You always do this,” you muttered. 

Jaehyun, who was about to walk back to his teammates after tossing the ball back to them, turned to you. “Do what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. Your eyes narrowed—you could tell that he was feigning innocence. 

“Never mind,” you said, giving him a tight smile. Jaehyun nodded, and you watched him jog back to his teammates, carrying out the practice like usual, a million thoughts racing through your mind. 

He remembers. 

The next week, on a Thursday, you had just gotten back home from your after school Chemistry class—Jaehyun and his mother had dropped you off. After cleaning yourself up and changing into your pyjamas, you sat down at your desk, wanting to get some homework done before you ate dinner. 

Then, your phone pinged with a text notification from Jaehyun. 

hey sunshine

Are u done with the english hw? i wanna see how u did it

Sunshine. 

The nickname that Jaehyun used to love calling you when the two of you were kids, and used to live only a few houses away from each other back in your old neighbourhood. He used to call you that because, quoting him, your smile was as precious as the sunshine on a winter morning. You didn’t—and still don’t—genuinely smile often, but Jaehyun was one of the only people who could trigger it out of you with not too much effort. 

The nickname meant a lot to you. 

You stared at the message in a daze, and when you finally were about to reply, the text was gone. 

y/n, i meant

sorry

You held your hand against your chest, heart pounding like crazy. 

“What the hell was that?” you whispered to yourself. 

So he does remember. 

IT’S a Friday, and you’re sitting down at your desk, unable to focus your brain into another set of math problems. Instead, you sit there, pretending to read through your completed English essay while sneaking glances at Jaehyun. He’s laughing about something with Minji and Sungho, effortlessly conforming with his friends, flashing that same stupid grin that you’ve always remembered from your childhood. 

Your fingers curl around the edges of your desk. 

How could he look so familiar yet feels so distant like a stranger?

You desperately want to believe that he’s forgotten—too much time has passed. But deep down, you know that it doesn’t make sense. He’s too comfortable around you, too quick to include you too. He’s too at ease around you, especially for someone who’s apparently just met you for around two months. 

And the worst part? Your heart is still skipping a beat every time you look at him. Your heart still reacts the same way it did when you were kids—probably even more defined now—cheeks turning pink at his gestures, heart warming at his voice. 

This isn’t fair. Nothing is.

You watch as he ruffles Minji’s hair, annoying her by ruining her hair that she spent an entire morning trying to perfect. He laughs as she swats his hand away, hissing curses at his face. 

He used to do that to you. 

Your grip tightens. 

Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe he really did forget, after all. 

But you can’t just get it out of your head—the way Jaehyun treats you, the small, fleeting glances and the way he easily includes you in every conversation he has and everything he does. It makes you doubt yourself. 

And why do you even care so much?

You turn away, biting your lip. It’s stupid. Everything is just so dumb—you shouldn’t be jealous or feeling worked up about some boy that happened to still be the most important part of your life even after so many years. You shouldn’t even bother yourself with something that happened years ago. You know you shouldn’t hold on to memories that you’re not even sure he still held. 

But you are.

And that fact alone is making you despise everything.

BY the end of the day, you’re lazily packing your bag after the last bell rang. You’re drained after an entire week of classes and endless assignments, and you don’t know if you can survive your after school Math class. Beside you, Sanghyeok is also packing his bag—but he’s doing so at a much faster pace than you are. He gives you an acknowledging smile, a piece of bread in his mouth, before walking out of the classroom. 

“MJ, are we going to the extra football practice coach said we’d have earlier?” Sungho asks, stacking his books into an organised pile before sliding them into his bag. 

Jaehyun looks up from his phone, humming. “Yeah, I’ll go. I’m the captain—can’t miss any sessions, can I?”

Sungho nods in agreement, but before he could say anything in return, Jaehyun’s focus is already shifted to you. 

You’re packing your bag slowly, as if by doing that, you’re able to avoid going to your after school class. You zip your backpack close, feeling someone’s gaze boring into you. You look up, turning towards the source of the tingling sensation. 

“Going home already?” Jaehyun asks, an idle grin displayed on his face. 

You slip your arms into your puffed coat. “Yeah,” you nod, “I have extra class.”

“Let me walk you home,” Jaehyun says, zipping his bag shut smoothly. He swings it over his back. 

“Jaehyun, we have practice,” Sungho reminds. He’s already at the door, gesturing with his chin. 

Jaehyun swats his hand, without even looking at his friend. “It’s fine—you can go first.”

As Sungho leaves with a sigh, Jaehyun grins at you. “C’mon. Let’s stop for some tteok skewers while we’re at it too.”

You stare at him, eyes unblinking. 

Is he being serious? Why is he always insisting on walking you home? Doesn’t he realise what his actions are doing to you? 

Your frown begins to deepen as you recall Jaehyun’s treatment of you ever since you transferred to KOZ Academy: always next to you, effortlessly handing you snacks and drinks—specifically the ones you always preferred, always seeming to prioritise you over everything else that he has; walking you home, buying you food as often as possible, and all the other little things that made your heart somersault. 

You don’t want any of this. 

You don’t like how conscious you are of yourself whenever he’s around. You don’t like how he makes you feel like you’re the most important person in this world. You don’t like how he makes you all smiles—you despise the way he easily brings you out of your shell. 

You clench your fists. 

This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous. 

Jaehyun has been nothing but very kind and welcoming to you since you first came here. He has included you, so naturally nothing seemed awkward or forced. He introduced you to his friends, and they were all so welcoming you feel like you’ve been friends for ages. He treated you like any other classmate, normal and friendly. 

And that is the problem. 

Because you know that, to Jaehyun, you’re just like any other person here. You’re just a normal classmate. Not the girl who used to braid flowers into his hair as the two of you talked under the shade of the oak tree, chatting your afternoon away. Not the girl that he used to enthusiastically greet every day, eager to share his strawberries. Not the girl that he swore he’d never leave behind. 

You know you mean as much to him as much as his other friends do. You know that his stomach doesn’t do this funny dance whenever you’re around. You know that his cheeks don’t become warm whenever he hears your voice. You know he doesn’t look forward to seeing you every day, like it’s one of the only things that keep him going. 

Your throat burns with this feeling. It’s stupid. You hate whatever’s going on—the faint sliver of hope that Jaehyun just might remember you after all. Maybe he was just pretending. 

But for what?

Because everytime you look into his eyes, you don’t see the Jaehyun you cherished with your entire heart. All you see is someone, still the same Myung Jaehyun, who had long since moved on. 

You’re fine on your own. You know that. You’ve always been. 

You’ve always been by yourself, you didn’t realise how fun and fulfilling it’d be when there’s a special someone in your life. 

When Jaehyun left with no warning ten years ago, you had thought it was the end of the world. You had put yourself through the painful process of moving on, of finally accepting that maybe Jaehyun wasn’t meant to be yours forever all along. 

But then, Jaehyun reappeared. He made his way back into your life, a decade later, as smoothly as the way he first introduced himself to you as a four year old. 

Yet he had the audacity to treat you like you’re a new friend. 

You close your eyes for a quick moment, trying to suppress all the memories that are rushing back into your head. 

“C’mon, Y/N, you’ll be late for your class,” Jaehyun says, tapping your shoulder. It brings you back to reality, and without realising, you’re staring sharply at him with that alarming sensation of tears collecting in your eyes. 

Jaehyun, of course, is quick to notice this. His grin fades into a frown. “What’s wrong? A-are you sick?”

You inhale sharply, taking your bag. “No,” you say, slowly shaking your head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay,” you hear Jaehyun quietly responding as you walk past him. You walk out of the classroom and into the hallways, too tired to even stop Jaehyun from following you. You let him accompany you to the after school tuition centre in town, silently waving him goodbye as you watch him cycle back to school. 

You turn around, sighing. 

YOU know you’re about to hit the end of your patience. 

Your school is hosting a winter festival, organised by juniors and sophomores, a few days before winter break. It’s fun when you think about it, but not as much when you’re paired with Jaehyun for a game. 

The school courtyard is bustling with students, all bundled up in wooly scarves, mittens and puffy jackets, gathered together at the booths set up for your school’s winter festival. The ground is carpeted with white, fresh snow, and a large part of it had transferred into a battlefield for snowball fights, complete with stacks of hay, snowbanks, and random objects as forts. 

“Sorry Y/N,” Yoona says, setting her lips into an apologetic line. 

You shook your head, sighing. Everyone is already paired up with each other—Minji with Sanghyeok, Yoona with Sungho—and you’re left with Jaehyun for the snowball game. You look at Jaehyun, who looks very eager. 

“You’re with me, Y/N!” he exclaims, sliding his arm around your shoulders. His smile is bright and, as much as you didn’t like it, it makes you smile too. 

“So we’re going to draw some sticks and see which teams are going to go against each other,” Jihyeon, one of the juniors in charge of the snowball game booth, says as she comes up to you and your friends. 

“You can go first,” you say to Minji, and she nods. 

She reaches her hand in the cup Jihyeon is holding out, and pulls out a random popsicle stick. The edge of it is coloured red. 

“It’s red?” she asks, a little confused. 

Jihyeon smiles. “That means you’ll be competing against another team who pulled out a red stick!”

“That’s us!” Jaehyun, who’s standing next to you, suddenly exclaims. He holds a red popsicle stick in his hand. You turn to him, slightly surprised. You didn’t even realise he had been picking a popsicle stick for the two of you. 

“You don’t mind me picking for us… Do you?” he whispers to you. You give him a small smile before shaking your head. 

“I don’t mind.”

You and Jaehyun are going against Minji and Sanghyeok for the snowball game, while Yoona and Sungho are fighting against another pair of seniors. Jihyeon gave each team five minutes to make as many snowballs as possible. You and Jaehyun worked your best to form the snowballs—you weren’t too good at handling cold snow, but Jaehyun seemed to be the best at it. 

“We’ll win this,” Jaehyun says to you, crouching down behind your side of the area. You crouch down next to him, awkwardly nodding. 

He smiles at you in reassurance, and some kind of positive energy fills you up. 

And before you could even process any of it, Jihyeon blows the whistle, indicating the start of your snowball fight. A chaos, made out of crazed giggles and snowballs crashing against bodies, begins to erupt, and you lose sight of Jaehyun in the middle of it.

Jaehyun is immediately in his element—his snickering laughter ringing through the school courtyard as he hurls snowballs at Minji and Sanghyeok. He ducks and dodges behind a snowbank, his chequered brown and red scarf flying behind him like a flag. 

You’re standing awkwardly behind a stack of hay tall enough to cover you, holding a snowball with both of your hands.  Jaehyun suddenly lands next to you, and as soon as he sees you, he tilts his head with a smirk. “Y/N,” he says loudly against the frenzy, “you’re supposed to throw the snowball, Sunshine, not hold on to it like a favourite teddy bear.” 

Jaehyun gives you a teasing grin before dashing off to hurl more snowballs towards Sanghyeok, triple the amount he just threw to his face moments ago.

You remain there, standing still. 

Sunshine? What was that? 

Your cheeks turn pink underneath your knitted scarf, and it’s hard to tell whether that was caused by the cold or from the way that Jaehyun’s grin made your heart flip. 

You watch as Jaehyun plays around in the snow, his giggles resonating around the air. You stand there, your heart thumping loudly in confusion. 

He definitely remembers. 

You absentmindedly take a step back, clutching the snowball in your hands harder, the stinging cold no longer bothering you. 

A second later, Jaehyun arrives next to you, almost slipping. He pants, and despite that, he’s still grinning joyfully. He locks his gaze with yours, and upon noticing your expression, his smile falters a little.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun asks, “are you okay? Why aren’t you playing?”

“‘Sunshine’,” you state plainly, eyes unblinking. “What was… that?”

Jaehyun freezes. He opens his mouth, but for a while, nothing comes out. He stares at you, something unreadable clouding his eyes. The wind blows at his messy hair, flopping against his forehead. 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, chuckling rather sheepishly. 

You narrow your eyes. You’re not letting this go. “Jaehyun,” you press on. “Answer me, Myungjae.”

Upon the nickname, his eyes widens.

Jaehyun hesitates, and for a while, it looked like he was about to give you the answer you desperately wanted. However, your hopes were crushed as a snowball from Minji came hurling towards your direction, crumbling upon impact against your hair. Jaehyun’s eyes widens, and his focus turns back to the snowball match.

“We have a minute left,” he says, rushingly grabbing several snowballs. He’s about to turn to Minji and Sanghyeok, wanting to throw more snowballs at them—but he pauses. He leans close, brushing snow out of your hair with his free hand. 

Your breath catches in your throat. A rush of warmth goes up your cheeks, despite the raging emotions and thoughts in your head. 

He’s too close. 

Jaehyun chuckles. After making sure all of the snow is gone, he ruffles your hair, trying his best to make it look okay again. “There,” he says, his voice low and comforting. “All good.”

You watch him turn his focus back to the snowball frenzy, unable to utter a word. You stare at him, his grin decorating his already handsome face. Your heart claws against your chest as you try your best to pull your eyes away from Myung Jaehyun, who looks too gorgeous with his brown hair adorned with sparkly snowflakes. 

You know he’s lying. You know he remembers. 

But why is he doing all this?

THE last bell of the day rings, the entire school erupts in a chatter of celebration. Students run out of their classrooms, walking out with their friends as they chat the rest of the day away. Several student council members are doing several of their last duties of the day, making sure that everything is perfect before leaving the school for a month. 

You’re at your locker, double-checking everything. You make sure to stuff your bag with things that you’re not too confident at leaving at school for a month—your chemistry textbook, the mirror that your old friends got you. You also made sure to replace the tape that’s holding up the polaroid pictures of you and your family, hoping that it’d stay up for longer this time. 

Your eyes linger around the polaroid of you and Jaehyun—taken at the young age of six. It was the first day of school, you vividly remembered. 

You used to look at that picture with a bittersweet, reminiscent feeling. You always used to look at that picture with some kind of hope that you’d meet Jaehyun one day. 

But now, you can’t do that anymore. 

You glance at Jaehyun’s direction, a few metres away from you. He’s at his locker with his friends, Ricky and Sungho. He’s laughing, as always, and he’s effortlessly blending in like he always did. He’s enjoying his time with his friends, like he didn’t just spend the last few months unknowingly ripping you into pieces. 

How could he be so carefree when you’re feeling like this?

You hate it. So much. 

Too much.

You hate how your chest aches whenever you catch Jaehyun looking at you, the way he looked at you like any other classmate, betraying the years you spent together. You hate how he seemed to have easily erased you from his past, like you meant absolutely nothing to him. You hate how he seemed to have forgotten you so heartlessly, when you have spent years holding onto him. 

But now, you can’t hold it in anymore. 

Jaehyun had finished his conversation with his friends, and now he’s walking towards you, tossing his ball up and down, flashing that same easygoing smile that had captured your heart—and something inside you snaps.

“Do you really not remember me?”

Jaehyun pauses, his eyes bulging and his footsteps halting. 

You didn’t mean to say it. 

You had spent weeks bottling it all up, second-guessing yourself amidst all the mixed signals. You constantly told yourself that it didn’t matter, that Jaehyun truly did forget you, and that it had been too long for him to even remember you as much as you remember him. 

You can’t just bottle it in any longer. 

Jaehyun blinks, clearly taken aback. “What?”

You exhale sharply. You can’t take it back anymore. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

JAEHYUN bangs his head against his bedroom door, regretting every single thing he’s done. 

Why did he even do that?

After he said goodbye to Ricky, who was going on a winter vacation to Italy, he turned to you. He approached you, subconsciously having that same stupid lovesick grin that his lips somehow form whenever he’s around you. He’s walking towards you, like how he does it every other day.

Usually, you’d greet him with that adorable little smile of yours. 

But today, he was smothered with a menacing glare and a question that he doesn’t expect instead. 

“What are you talking about?” Jaehyun said, trying his best to sound innocent. He was unable to pry his gaze away from you, but he hoped that you didn’t catch the quiver in his eyes. 

You didn’t say anything for a while, and he watched as whatever emotions you had swirling in your beautiful eyes changed into a solid look of hurt and betrayal. 

Jaehyun felt his heart drop to the floor. 

It’s like everything stopped, and his stomach began to twist, the memories rushing back as they played through his mind like a broken film tape that he couldn’t stop from playing. 

“You really, really don’t remember me,” you said, quiet with a humongous amount of hurt. Your voice cracked, and Jaehyun’s heart began to crumble because of it. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jaehyun replied, forcing out the words as firmly as he possibly could. 

His words felt like acid on his tongue. Jaehyun had told this lie many times before, but today, it felt more painful than the others. But Jaehyun did it anyway, over and over again.

Because it’s easier than admitting the truth to you. It’s easier than having to acknowledge the feeling that’s twisting his heart, hurting his chest. 

You exhaled shakily, and for a second, Jaehyun swore that he could see through you—your eyes searching him, like you were finding the real Jaehyun, who had been the one that promised he’d be your rock until the end of time. 

And the fact that you still had that effect on him—making him feel like he’s on Cloud 9—after all these years, only made it worse for him. 

“You’re lying,” you snapped, your eyes starting to sparkle with unshed tears. Your voice began to rise with every word you uttered. “You do remember me. You remember everything. Don’t you?”

His heart began to thump loudly against his ribs. He had never seen you so worked up like this, he had never heard you raise your voice like this. 

Jaehyun stared into your eyes, the truth burning at the back of his throat. He hesitated, almost spitting it out. 

But in the end, he swallowed it. 

“I don’t get it, Y/N,” he countered, trying to sound confused. Though, it didn’t sound convincing, even to him. “Maybe we’ve met before, in-in the past, but I truly don’t remember anything.”

Your gaze stiffened, and the desperation in your expression faded. Jaehyun kept his guard strong—he couldn’t let you see him crack, even though the weight of your disappointment was heavy on him. 

Then, after a minute of silence that felt too long, you gave him a straight smile. 

“Okay,” you whispered. You slammed your locker close and immediately walked away, not giving Jaehyun a chance to say anything else. 

He wanted to chase after you. But he couldn’t. 

He watched you turn away, and as the doors closed behind you, he felt the loss crumbling upon him, heavy and unbearable. 

YOU’RE not even sure why you’re feeling like this, but you are angry. Upset. 

Who wouldn’t be, especially after witnessing the only person who made you feel truly understood shun you out, saying that he doesn’t remember you?

You didn’t really like leaving your messages unread and unreplied, but for the first time, you let your text channel with Jaehyun clog up. 

It’s the morning of Christmas, and you wake up to almost fifty new texts from Jaehyun alone. You don’t open any of them, but you couldn’t help but read some of it from the notifications bar. 

y/n, did i do something wrong?

y/n, are u okay?

y/n, i can’t believe u declined to go snowboarding 2gether yesterday. we had so much fun!!!

okay fine. i shouldn’t have used that tone

honestly it kinda sucked to not have u around

i know u’d like seeing the sunset from on top of the mountain

y/n i hope u’re eating well

y/n, did u go see the big christmas tree in the city centre? i’m in front of it rn. 

y/n. merry christmas. 

enjoy your day

You sigh, turning off your phone. It pained you, probably just a little bit, to ignore all of Jaehyun’s attempts to reach out to you. You did feel a bit sad that you’re missing out on fun plans that he wanted to do with you—but what could you possibly do? You know you’re not ready to face him without baring your teeth at him. 

You enjoy the day with your family, happy to see them after a long time, especially your cousins and grandparents. You ate a lot of good food, took a lot of pictures, played a lot of games with your nieces and nephews, and of course—exchanged many memorable moments and laughter with your family members. 

You were playing in the snow with your little cousins, your heart stinging a little. Not from the cold, but from the memory that you have associated with snowball fights—Jaehyun. There was something warm about hurling cold balls of snow that made the tips of your fingers red. Maybe it was because you were fond of the person smiling at you during that time, or maybe because the way snowball fights produce heartwarming laughter reminds you of the person that you’ve cherished for so long and how his laughter fills your heart with joy.

Your mother called you inside, and after shaking off all the snow from your coat, you joined everyone else for the gift unboxing time. You got many gifts from your family and friends alike, but when it came to the largest box addressed to you, you can’t help but feel a little pang in your heart. 

Who was it from? 

You flip the card attached to the gift, the world going completely silent for a second. Your eyes widen at the sight of Jaehyun’s name scribbled onto it, along with a short message. 

Merry Christmas. I hope you enjoy this.

“When… how did this get here?” the question escapes your mouth almost instantly, but you know that’s not what you really wanted to ask. 

“A boy came off to drop this just now, when you were playing in the backyard with the kids,” your aunt replies, handing you a piece of brownies. You put it in your mouth, chewing slowly as you try to process her words. “I asked him if he wanted to come in and talk to you, but he refused and ran away so quickly I didn’t have time to stop him.”

You merely nod, unable to say anything due to the heavy feeling pressing down your chest. Slowly, you rip the wrapping paper open, holding in a breath you know wasn’t necessary. 

You didn’t know what you expected. 

An apology letter, maybe. 

Or something that he remembered that you always liked. 

But instead of that, your hands are holding a gingerbread house kit and a store-bought Christmas card taped to it. 

Whatever hope you still had remaining for Jaehyun fades, and your jaw clenches. 

It’s time to stop. 

“LOOK, it’s Shinyu,” Yoona nudges you, giggling rather uncontrollably. You glance at his direction, a little wide eyed from how blatant her statement was. 

You’re walking with Yoona and Minji to your school’s library, located in the middle of campus grounds. You’re almost there, when you spot Junghwan—or more famously known as Shinyu, and his group of friends walking in the opposite direction. 

“Shush,” you whisper. “Why are you making this such a big deal?”

“‘Cause he’s such a gentleman, duh,” Yoona replies, deadpanned. Though, that kind of expression on her face lasts only a second. As you and Shinyu’s steps grow closer to each other, and heat begins to rise up to your cheeks, Yoona couldn’t hold her smile back. 

“We’re just friends,” you state, dismissing whatever she’s about to say. You shove your hands deep into the pockets of your puffed jacket, and you set your gaze straight ahead. 

Yoona gives you a raised brow. “I never said you guys weren’t. Are you saying that you guys are more than that?” she asks, the octave of her voice going higher. 

“Someone’s excited,” you mumble. You quickly turn to Minji, desperate. You’re going to walk past Shinyu and his friends anytime now. 

“Min, help,” you plead between gritted teeth. 

To your surprise, Minji laughs, putting her hands up. “I’ll always defend you, but this time, I can’t—you and Shinyu are too cute for me to prevent it.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your mouth is agape. Though, before you could say anything to counter Minji’s remark—that’s already making her and Yoona laugh—Shinyu is already next to you. 

“Hello,” he says, his voice sweet like honey. 

You freeze in your steps, and you quickly turn to him. Shinyu, standing much taller than you, has a fresh smile plastered on his face–the sincerity of it feels like it’s only for you. Though, you don’t want to get your hopes up for anything. You and Shinyu had recently started becoming friends, right after winter break ended a few weeks before this: he’s in your English and PE class, and he often sits near you when you’re studying in the library. You always see him playing basketball after school, too. 

You give him a small smile. “Hi, Shinyu.”

“Where are you going?” Shinyu asks. He nods in acknowledgement to Yoona and Minji. 

“Library,” Minji replies, looping her arm with yours. “Do you wanna come with us?”

Shinyu glances towards his friends, who’s talking amongst themselves.

“I promised my friends I’d come to study with them in the common room,” he says, before shifting his gaze back to you, and there’s some kind of determination shining through. “But you know what?”

Flustered, you blurt out. “What?”

“Yo, guys, I’ll be studying in the library,” he announces to his friends. Some of them roll their eyes, but eventually, they all agree to meet up after school. 

“Let’s go then?” he says, flashing you a smile. 

Yoona clears her throat, and even though muffled, you can clearly hear her giggling. You press your lips together, nodding. You’re feeling shy for no reason. “Okay. Let’s… go.”

Shinyu grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

The four of you walk to the library—Yoona and Minji, to your right, are giggling their hearts at the way Shinyu’s walking to your pace, his position perfectly shielding you from the sun. 

You force yourself to look forward the entire time, Shinyu’s presence suddenly making you feel beet red. Unknowingly, you’re smiling to yourself—Shinyu is well-known amongst your peers for his good manners, and undoubtedly, he’s one of the nicer people you’ve met. You lost count of the amount of times he’s taken care of you, especially when you’re studying. 

You chuckle. 

Shinyu’s not bad. 

“Someone’s in love, huh?” Yoona jests, pushing the library door open. You jolt back to reality, scowling at her. 

“I’m not in love,” you whisper sharply. “Also, shut up, he’s next to me.”

Yoona throws her head back, unable to contain her amusement anymore. You ignore her snickering in the back, and you walk inside the library, clutching the straps of your backpack as you try to find a table with enough seats for all of you. 

As you’re looking, a familiar voice pulls your attention towards its owner. 

“Y/N!” you hear Sungho call you, his voice quiet but loud enough for you to catch. He motions for you and the rest to come over. Yoona and Minji notice this, and they immediately jog over, delighted to see the boys. 

However, you’re a little sceptical. 

Your eyes meet with Jaehyun, who looks rather wide-eyed to see you. You hesitate, your footsteps heavier than before. You haven’t been really talking to him ever since school reopened after winter break, and this is the first time you’re facing him directly. 

Shinyu notices your mood drop. He leans to whisper, “are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, and as far as I know, ghosts don’t really appear in the day.”

You almost burst out laughing at Shinyu’s wooden remark. You bit the bottom of your lips before tugging Shinyu’s sleeve. “Let’s go sit with them?”

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice suddenly shaky. 

You nod. “I’m sure they’ll be okay with it!”

You’re not too sure what made you feel so brave to do so—but you pull Shinyu towards the table that all your friends are sitting at, gesturing for him to sit next to you. Jaehyun, who happened to sit directly in front of the seat that you’re claiming as yours for the day, watched with a dumbfounded expression on his face, his jaw dropped. Yoona and Minji smirked, seeming to know what you’re doing, but  Sungho and Sanghyeok looked a little hesitant. 

Other than the sharp gaze that Jaehyun gave you, lingering a little longer than you’d like, you notice nothing wrong with him. 

Not until an hour into studying together. 

Shinyu, Sungho and Sanghyeok had gotten along quite well, and you often find yourself trying to stifle your laughter at their jokes. You also saw Minji, who was quite hard to impress, laughing along as well. 

You’re mid-laugh when you notice it—Jaehyun’s easygoing demeanour has disappeared. He no longer had that grin that rose higher on one side of his face, one that he displayed when he was amused at something. 

Instead, he’s staring. 

Not at you, but right at Shinyu, who’s sitting next to you, chatting animatedly about a variety show he watched last night with his sisters. You couldn’t help but observe the boy sitting in front of you—his jaw tight, his fingers obnoxiously tapping against the table. It’s obvious that something is bothering him, given that his bright energy had dimmed. 

Normally, Jaehyun would add in to the conversation, spicing things up with a joke here and there, lighting up the atmosphere with his contagious laughter.

You were about to ask Jaehyun about it, but Shinyu is quicker than you thought. He leans in to show you a video on his phone, something related to the funny moment in the variety show that he watched last night.

Your attention is almost immediately pulled towards Shinyu and his phone, but Jaehyun’s actions tugs you back to him harder. 

He pushes back his chair with a loud, audible scrape. 

“What the hell, man?” Minji hisses. 

“Y/N,” Jaehyun says, not even looking at anyone else. “We need to talk.”

“Huh?” you splutter. You thought you made it clear that you don’t want to talk to him.

Jaehyun stomps towards you, and before you could say anything to counter, he grabs your wrist and pulls you away to a far corner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, as soon as Jaehyun stops in his steps. You’re more confused than angry, the entire incident that happened before winter break pushed to the back of your mind. 

Jaehyun mumbles something, but you can’t hear him at all. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I said nothing,” Jaehyun replies, his eyes narrowing. 

His reply, rather sharp, startles you a little.

And that makes you a bit worked up. “What’s up with you?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

Jaehyun doesn’t reply. Instead, he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, muttering to himself. His eyes dart here and there, as if he’s trying to find some kind of answer. You stand there, silent as you watch him do his thing, not knowing what to do as a response. 

After a while, Jaehyun does something that wasn’t even in the list of things you guessed he’d do—he unzips the hoodie he’s wearing and places it on your shoulders. You stare at him with bulging eyes, mouth agape.

What is he doing?

Before you can even do or say anything to stop him, Jaehyun guides your arms into its sleeves, zipping the hoodie up for you. He takes a step closer to you, leaning close to grab the hood behind your head. 

You feel your breath stuck in your throat. 

He’s. Too. Close.

Jaehyun, his gaze showing how focused he is at this, pulls the hood over your head, tugging it slightly so that it’s secured. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, the world around the two of you freezes. 

You clear your throat, and Jaehyun’s brought out of his trance. 

A fake cough escapes him, and he shoves his hands into his pocket, acting cool before he starts walking back to the table. 

“Jaehyun?” you call after him. “What’s this?”

Jaehyun looks back at you. “Nothing. Just keep it on. You get cold easily, don’t you?”

You go back to your seat, feeling extremely weirded out. What’s up with this guy? 

A part of you tells you that he’s trying to mark you as yours. 

You grimace, shutting up that tiny part of you. 

He doesn’t even bother to remember me, so why would he do that?

JAEHYUN’S behaviour just keeps on getting weirder and weirder. You really tried your best to tell yourself that it’s not a big deal—but at this point, nothing can convince you that Jaehyun’s not being weird. 

You could recall quite a few moments of him being rather significantly bitter, for a reason that you’re not even aware of: one of them being a free period before lunch on a Wednesday, where Shinyu came over to you to ask you a few questions about Math. 

You had barely even managed to reply to Shinyu’s request before Jaehyun suddenly got up from his seat, clapping his hand on your shoulder. 

You turned sharply towards him, shocked at both the impact and the unexpected gesture. “Jaehyun, what—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, loudly, “I just remembered! I owed—I mean, you owe me something! An answer. About… about something!”

“What thing?” you frowned. From what your memory serves you, there’s no such thing—

“The, uh—” Jaehyun waved his hand vaguely, glancing at Shinyu, who raised a brow at him. “You know? The thing we talked about yesterday. Super important. Can’t wait. Urgent. Like, right now.”

Before you can even open your mouth, Jaehyun grabbed your hand and pulled you a few steps away. 

Shinyu, grabbing his papers, shook his head. “At least be subtle, dude.”

Jaehyun, hand still clasped around yours, narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Shinyu chuckles. 

You looked back and forth between the two guys, sighing heavily. Just what is going on?

Another similar moment occurred the next week, at lunch on a random Friday, where Jaehyun was annoying the living daylights of Shinyu for some stupid reason that you’re not too sure of. Shinyu, being the absolute angel he is, completely dodged Jaehyun’s attempts. He remained next to you, chatting about whatever topic that came to mind. He also made sure to include the rest of your friends, and to give you any part of his lunch that he noticed you liked—that extra crispy chicken or the cream cheese bun that he hadn’t touched yet. 

Shinyu had to leave a bit early because his basketball coach had something to discuss with him. He bid you farewell, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Jaehyun immediately perked up, smiling like none of his attempts at making Shinyu pissed off ever happened. 

Tired of the same kind of thing happening each day, you decided to confront him about it. At first, you didn’t want to—afraid that you’re just imagining things, but after discussing it with Yoona and Minji, you knew it’s for the best. 

“You’re acting weird,” you finally said, eyes pointed straight at Jaehyun. 

Jaehyun paused midaction, his noodles slipping down from his chopsticks. “Are you talking to… me?”

Minji punched his shoulder. “Stop being so dense, idiot.”

You nod in Minji’s direction, before turning back to Jaehyun. “Yes, you.”

“Me?” Jaehyun scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not being weird.”

Sungho snorted in his drink, and Sanghyeok shook his head. You bit back a smile—you’re definitely not imagining this. 

“You glared at Shinyu for five minutes. Did not blink.”

“I did not.”

“And you interrupted every time he spoke.”

“Coincidence.”

You gave him a deadpanned look. “You literally dragged me away mid sentence more than two times.”

The falter in Jaehyun’s cocky gaze tells you that you’re right. 

Jaehyun groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe I’m acting weird. But it’s not because of him. Not because of Shinyu. I just—” 

He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

You stared at him, more confused than ever. 

Jaehyun avoided you gaze, and that confirms everything you’re questioning

“...Right.”

He’s definitely acting weird. 

JAEHYUN is in a mess. He doesn’t know what he’s doing—and he definitely doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do either. 

He knew, from the moment you stopped even reading his messages over the winter break, that he’s truly messed up. But he doesn’t really know what to do, and the only logical solution in his head is the option that he wants to avoid the most. 

Jaehyun is dragging his feet through the hallways, dodging noisy students chatting and huddling in groups at the lockers, when he hears a familiar voice talking as he’s passing by. 

Shinyu. 

The guy that gets on Jaehyun’s nerves whenever he’s around you—the audacity that he has to be flirting openly with you, to show off the fact that he might have a bigger chance with you than Jaehyun ever will. 

He wasn’t paying attention at first, and had his foot out to step away already.

“I think I’ll do it in the courtyard,” he hears Shinyu say, “it’s the most perfect spot. Besides, Y/N likes the marigolds there.”

Jaehyun feels his heart stop, his body freezing mid-step. 

He barely registers the students passing him, hitting his shoulders multiple times. Shinyu’s words sink in, heavy and dangerous. 

“Damn,” another voice speaks, “so you’re really confessing? On Valentine’s day?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shinyu replies confidently. “I mean, Y/N’s amazing. I’d be an idiot not to try.”

“Doesn’t she see you as just a friend?” a voice points out. 

Shinyu sighs. “I know, but what’s the harm in trying?”

“She’s quiet, though, isn’t… she?” another voice asks. 

Shinyu shrugs. “I don’t mind, she’s perfect in my eyes anyway.”

Jaehyun’s stomach twists. His fingers are clenched into fists at his sides, and he knows he should just walk away. 

But his feet won’t move.

Jaehyun stands there, his heart hammering violently against his chest. He frowns, pretending that whatever he heard didn’t get under his skin at all. 

Shinyu is confessing. To you.

And the worst part is Jaehyun has hardly any idea what to do about it.

JUST as he thought his day couldn’t get worse, Jaehyun spots Shinyu running up to you after the last bell rang, a bunch of snacks in hand. He intercepted you from Jaehyun, who was on his way to you, a box of Pepero in his hand. 

It slips from his hand, falling on the ground.

Jaehyun knew. 

From the way your eyes begin to light up whenever you see Shinyu, and the way your smile is just so bright whenever he’s near. The way you talk more and more, prompted so effortlessly by Shinyu. The way you look like you’re glowing when you’re with him… it hits Jaehyun.

He’s going to lose you. 

His vision becomes blurry as he stands in the middle of the courtyard, as still as stone. Jaehyun can’t ignore this any longer. 

He can’t ignore the way his heart is eager whenever he sees you. He can’t ignore the way the world seems a little less gloomy, a lot less lonely when you’re around. He can’t ignore the way his chest hurts, like it’s about to burst, whenever he sees you flashing that adorable, rare smile around anyone else. He can’t ignore the fact that he feels like he’s about to throw up flowers everytime he sees you with Shinyu, all giggly from whatever he says to you. 

He just can’t disregard the fact that he has obvious feelings for you, that he still loves you after all these years. 

Jaehyun had always known those feelings, pushed away deep in his stomach, but these past few weeks—it keeps on growing larger and larger, more urgent and more consuming. The small flutter in his chest when he watched you laugh, the feeling that settled comfortably around him whenever you look at him with those warm eyes, and the overwhelming ache when you’re around Shinyu. 

Jaehyun had tried his absolute best to ignore it. 

But now, watching you interact with Shinyu—sharing snacks, smiling so shyly with him—it made Jaehyun extremely aware of himself. Shinyu, your fellow classmate who seemed to know exactly what to say, the one who made you giggle and smile the way Jaehyun used to always do… the feeling hits Jaehyun differently. 

Jaehyun felt like the ground underneath him was about to crumble, and the earth was about to eat him alive. His heart twists so painfully it makes him feel like he wants to run and hide from the shattering realisation that you might never look at him the same way he has always looked at you. 

He wishes that he had been more courageous, more brave to admit to you that you’re his world, and he’s orbiting you—that you hadn’t left his mind, ever since he left ten years ago. Not even once. He wishes that he had been more valiant, and that he told you, the first time he bumped into you, after a decade of not seeing his favourite person—that he missed you dearly. Your laughter, your smile, and the way that it’s reserved only for him to see—he wishes he said that to you the first time. 

Honestly, Jaehyun wasn’t even really sure why he lied to you. Sure, he was scared, afraid that you might not remember him at first. But after a while, he just didn’t want his feelings for you to be out in the open. He knew you remember him—but he was simply terrified. 

What if you didn’t like him the way he did? 

What if he’s the only one that’s feeling like you’re the most important person in life?

Jaehyun was too afraid of you rejecting him to stop lying. 

Though, he thought that his way of showing his feelings, rather subtly in his opinion, through little acts of service could make you notice. 

Even so, Jaehyun knew that it only made you more confused. 

He really wanted to be happy for you—he really does. You deserve all the goodness in this world, and you deserve to be happy with someone who looks at you the way Jaehyun looked at you all this while, but his chest twists with a blazing jealousy: an emotion he never thought he’d feel when it comes to you. 

It’s not fair. 

Not to you, not to him. 

How could he be so stupid? How could he be such a loser, a coward? 

Jaehyun takes a shaky breath in. He could tell, from the way you looked at him, and from the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, that you had no idea. No absolute idea about the chokehold you have on him—the way every shared moment, every glance and every smile is carved into his soul. 

You have no idea how much he’s hurting, from the way you’re clearly upset with him, the way you’re growing closer to Shinyu, and the way you’re slipping away from his reach with every passing moment.

But then, something clicks in him. He’s not going to let the ache, the jealousy and the frustration take the reins—he’s no longer going to shrink back into the shadows. 

This is going to be his moment. His time to shine. Jaehyun could feel the determination settle firmly in his chest, and his mind begins to come up with a plan. The fear and the doubt is burned to ashes, and it’s no longer going to hold him back. 

He had been such a fool. 

This time, no more hesitating. No more waiting. No more wondering what if. 

If he wants you, he’s going to fight for it. 

He’s not going to let himself lose you to anyone else. Not now. Not ever. You’re his best friend, his rock, his confidante. You understand him in ways others don’t, and he knows you more than you even know yourself, even after all these years. And if anyone is going to make you realise that, it’s him. 

JAEHYUN hadn’t meant to walk this way. 

It’s the night before Valentine’s day, and somehow, his feet had brought him to your house, a couple blocks away from his own. He’s in a new neighbourhood, and the house he’s approaching is new, but the feeling is familiar. 

He slows to a stop, staring at your house—remembering how it used to be some kind of second home to him. It’s a new house in a new state, but Jaehyun could still remember sitting on the front steps with you, munching the afternoon away with your mother’s homemade snacks. He still remembers doing homework with you on the porch, laughing at the way you huffily grumbled under your breath when it came to difficult questions you couldn’t solve. He still remembers building a pillow fort in your living room, calling it your ‘secret base’. 

His fingers curl around the strap of his guitar. 

Have you ever realised how much you mean to him? How much do you always mean to him?

A gust of wind blows through the quiet street. 

Jaehyun stares at your window, the warm glow radiating from inside. He swallows hard. 

It’s now or never. 

Taking a deep breath, he takes a step forward and begins picking his guitar. 

YOU shove your headphones down your neck, heart thumping fast. 

What’s the noise outside?

You walk towards your window, nervous upon hearing the melodious guitar and the singing muffled by the bricks in your walls. 

“Man, I'm so nervous to death

I relax my stiff lips

I might fail miserably like this

I might mess up

Hi, the weather's nice. Wanna take a walk?

My shy voice is just for you!

Ah, please, don't say no

Oh, I won’t beat around the bush

From my head to toe

No, even my heart’s under pressure…”

You recognise that voice. 

Jaehyun. 

What’s he doing here, in the middle of the night? 

You peek through the curtains—and your assumption is correct. There he is, Jaehyun, standing rather awkwardly in front of your driveway with his guitar. 

Your eyes widen. He’s singing. 

Or more accurately, screaming. 

“I love you, baby, baby, baby

I’ve been screaming the whole neighborhood knows 

I like you!

My neighbors go, yah, yah, yah

Let's get some sleep, yoo-ooh, oh-oh

I swear you'll like it.”

You close the curtains sharply, turning your back to the wall. Your face begins to feel hot, and your breaths turn to short, ragged gasps. 

You close your eyes, trying to drown Jaehyun’s voice out, but you can’t. 

Slowly, you open your eyes again, letting yourself to hear him out.

And soon enough, you realise the meaning behind the words he’s singing. 

“Ah, please, don't say no

Oh, I don't want to be just friends

From my head to toe

No, even my heart's under pressure!”

You push your curtains aside, taking in the view. You expect him to be singing rather calmly, but instead, you’re greeted with Jaehyun, kneeling on the road as he’s serenading you. 

“I love you, baby, baby, baby

I've been screaming the whole neighborhood knows 

I like you!”

You barely processed what he just sang. 

One second, you were in your room, standing frozen as your breath hitched at the sound and sight of Jaehyun’s singing echoing through the neighbourhood. 

Next, you’re running out of the house. 

You didn’t think—you just ran. 

Your parents, who were alarmed by Jaehyun’s singing, didn’t even have time to react. You flew past them, socks sliding across the wooden porch, nearly tripping down the slippery steps. 

“Y/N! Your coat—”

Too late. 

“I love you, baby, baby, baby

I've been screaming𑁋”

You bolt towards Jaehyun, crashing into him with so much force he barely had time to catch his guitar. 

“𑁋the whole neighborhood knows 

I like you𑁋oof!”

From the door, your dad raises a brow. “...did we miss something?”

Your mother merely chuckles, smiling knowingly. 

“You really—” you gasp, your breath visible in the air, “—had to do this in front of everyone?”

Jaehyun grins, entirely unbothered. “Of course.”

You cover your face with your hands—you were embarrassed, at first, but now it’s not even about all that. Your body is trembling, not from the cold nor embarrassment, but from the overwhelming warmth that is engulfing you. 

Jaehyun gently pries your hand away. “Hey,” he says softly, his grin now a gentle smile, “did it work?”

Your lips part. “What? Did what work?”

“Making you fall for me.”

Jaehyun barely had time to flash you another of his smirks before you fling yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. 

He lets out a startled laugh, stumbling back slightly. “Whoa—hey, what’s–”

“You’re so embarrassing,” you say against his jacket, your grip tightening. “And loud. And ridiculous.”

And just so, so cute. 

Jaehyun giggles, running a hand through his hair. “So,” he says, and you pull away to look at him. “How was it?”

You look at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “How was what?”

“I just serenaded you. That basically means you have to date me now, right?”

You gasp, hitting his chest. “Jaehyun–!”

“I mean, that’s like, a rule or something. I put in all this effort, to sing to you on a very cold winter night—made myself look completely ridiculous, and now you have no choice but to fall for me. That’s how it works,” Jaehyun continues, a smug look on his face.

You roll your eyes, to hide the obvious flush in your cheeks. “You’re unbelievable–”

“Unbelievably charming?” he cuts you off, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No. Unbelievably embarrassing.”

Jaehyun dramatically gasps. “Excuse me, that was romantic. I even practiced the song! Twice!”

You swat your hand, face burning, but he catches it. 

You stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart dangerously racing. 

“Y/N, listen… I know I can be a lot,” Jaehyun begins, his voice softer and more serious now. His grip on your hand tightens. “And you’re quiet and reserved, but I think we fit perfectly. With each other.”

You want to say something, but you keep your silence—you don’t really trust yourself to say anything in the state you’re in. 

“You know why?” Jaehyun continues rambling, his grin morphing into one of the most lovesick smiles you’ve seen, and you find yourself mirroring it. “I love making you smile, and I want to always keep on making you smile until, like, forever—”

Your heart makes a backflip, or something, but you feel your face flushing even more. “Jaehyun, stop–”

“And if you don’t like me back, that’s fine. That… is… totally okay! I will totally accept rejection gracefully, I’ll just be heartbroken for like, ten years—”

“Oh my god—”

“—but if you do like me, please tell me before I make a bigger fool of myself.”

Jaehyun pauses, catching his breath. His eyes find their way back to you, and in the silence he’s left between the two of you, you can’t hold yourself back anymore. 

You grab the front of his jacket and yank him forward.

“Shut up, Myung Jaehyun.”

And you kiss him. 

Jaehyun lets out a startled sound, but it isn’t long before he melts into you, his hands gripping your waist as he kisses you back, deep and eager. 

It isn’t shy. Nor is it soft. 

It’s everything—messy, desperate, and full of all of the things you couldn’t say to him.

By the time you pull away, Jaehyun is a breathless mess. He blinks at you like you had just punched him square in the face. 

It’s certainly out of character for you, you know that, but you didn’t expect Jaehyun to look absolutely smitten. 

“...Well.”

You pant, glaring up at him. “There, you finally shut up,” you mumble. 

Jaehyun licked his lips, his grin slow and teasing. “…You can do that anytime.”

You gasp, shoving him. 

Jaehyun giggles, grabbing your hand before you could run back inside. He pulls you close, and places your arms around his waist, in the warmth of his jacket. 

He rests his forehead against yours, your noses brushing. 

“So, are we official now, or do I need to sing another song?”

You look at him, your heart beating with a certain answer. 

I love you.

Though, of course, you’re too embarrassed to say that to him. You smack him before hiding your face in his chest. 

“Shut up, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun only laughs, and a warm feeling fills you up. He pulls you closer, hugging you tight. “Okay, sweetie, I think that’s enough singing for tonight.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

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

[sunrizef1]

August Part 2 - September

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader, Mason Mount x Reader

Warnings: none

Requested: Yes!/No

Authors Note: part 1 was supposed to be the only part but damn y'all rly wanted a part 2 | Charles is winning the poll as I post this I will provide proof don't fight me

Part 1

——

ynln

🎵Superglue - ROLE MODEL

liked by lando sabrinacarpenter and 3,777,101 others

ynln a lil bit of superglue, stick by my side

tagged: zendaya masonmount championsleague judebellingham liverpoolfc rolemodel & carmenmundt

load comments…

user1 cute asf

rolemodel its crazy how ur just so obsessed with me

ynln I'm deleting that picture

rolemodel :(

user2 all my favs in one post

lando this is a photo dump and I've seen you in the past two weeks how am I not in this

user3 missing the f1 days 😔✊

user4 Jude!!!!!

user5 amazing how Tucker is just everywhere

user6 love this aesthetic

user7 sorry???? Can we talk about Carmen being tagged on the last slide????

user8 right like what does that mean

user9 these divas

judebellingham if Madrid isn't ur favourite why am I in every post

liked by author

user10 why does every person she takes a picture of look at her like they're in love with her

user11 id be in love with her too tf

user12 sue me but I prefer Yn with football than f1

user13 this is so adorable

load more comments…

——

ynln added to their story

liverpoolfc liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

rolemodel liked your story ♥️

dualipa liked your story ♥️

lando liked your story ♥️

maxfewtrell liked your story ♥️

masonmount liked your story ♥️

trentarnold66 liked your story ♥️

judebellingham liked your story ♥️

charles_leclerc liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 the one - Taylor Swift

liked by carmenmundt lando and 3,444,879 others

ynln I'm doin’ good I'm on some new shit

tagged: judebellingham logansargeant masonmount & lewishamilton

load comments…

user14 oh this is adorable

user15 the song????

user16 it would've been fun if you would've been the one????

rolemodel why am I not in this

ynln get out of my comments

user17 LEWIS??????

user18 is that Logan???? What the hell????

user19 soft launch???

user20 the flowers wrapped in newspaper…. Oh someone is into herrrrr

lewishamilton that's a damn good picture of me

liked by author

user21 the Polaroids are so cute

user22 bf core 🤩

user23 her friends are so fun and they have such a cute bond wth

judebellingham ew why does it look like I'm in love with you delete this

ynln delete yourself that's the nicest you've ever been to me

user24 can we revisit the Logan mention????

user25 is this her reconnecting with f1….

user26 Lewis 🤩

user27 this is a soft launch! 🤔

user28 so do we all agree that Charles is the person yn was talking about in the roundtable

user29 had to have been him

user29 he was definitely August boy as well

user30 right cuz the vacations and soft launches being at the exact same time and with the aesthetics

user30 and the fact that Charles got right back with his gf after summer and yn keeps posting August by Ts.… ik what this is

——

charles_leclerc added to their story

ynln liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 August - Taylor Swift

liked by charles_leclerc masonmount and 4,555,077 others

ynln its august again

load comments…

user31 this feels important

user32 ooh aesthetic

user33 Europe?? In August??? I'm getting flashbacks

user34 ohhh I'm getting memories of this time last year

user35 August is slipping back

rolemodel i know what this is

ynln if the comments on this post go away just know it was your fault

user36 who took slide two.

user37 that third picture is so pretty

user38 personally I'm looking at the second one 🤩

user39 her including the song that she took lyrics from after her and Charles broke up is so important to me

user40 love that we've just decided that that's what happened

user41 god the lighting in these pics is insane 😫🫶

masonmount 🫶🏻

liked by author

user42 her saying that's its August again which means she's back to what last August was like with Charles 😫

user43 how are the comments still on 😭

lando text me back

ynln no

user44 I can't handle this

user45 I'm going to lose it 🤩

zendaya 😚

liked by author

user46 Charles liked this

sabrinacarpenter I'm in love with you

ynln 😫🫶

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

charles_leclerc liked your story ♥️

lando liked your story ♥️

maxverstappen1 liked your story ♥️

maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

maxverstappen1

come interview me 😁

ynln

Fine lol

maxverstappen1 loved a message ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 September - Earth, Wind, and Fire

liked by charles_leclerc zendaya and 6,578,999 others

ynln do you remember? The 21st night of September?

tagged: charles_leclerc

load comments…

user47 OMG?????!!!!

rolemodel thank GOD!

liked by author

user47 Charles?????

judebellingham FINALLY

liked by author

user48 I've never been so happy

lando took you long enough

liked by author

user49 we used to pray for times like this

zendaya only took 13 whole months

liked by author

user50 omg just a hard launch now

user51 no more of that vague-posting bs

maxverstappen1 oh yay

liked by author

user52 max being nonchalant I cant

carmenmundt congratulations!

liked by author

ynln love you 🫶

user53 do you remember….? The 21st (7th) night of September?

user54 using September (a song about love) after using August (a song about lost love) ooh what if I go insane

lewishamilton 🫶

liked by author

ynln 🫶

user55 even the hard launch is aesthetic

user56 this post is so pretty

user57 the red piano 😭

dualipa happy for you 💕

liked by author

user58 yn!!!!!!

charles_leclerc only blue talk and love, remember

ynln how we knew love was here to stay…

charles_leclerc ❤️

liked by author

ynln ❤️💋

——

Tags: @star73807-blog @leclerc16s @jkoooooooookie @imagine-it-was-us @weekendlusting @linnygirl09 @sarah-thatstings-ann @putherup @meadhbhcavanagh @luvrrish @suns3treading @lightdragonrayne @mxm47max @casperlikej @evie-119

[cheriladycl01]

Bags Under our Eyes - Lando Norris x MakeupArtist! Reader

Plot: You work as a makeup artist and hairstylist and end up having to do Lando’s before he goes to the O2

It wasn't like you werent familiar with Lando Norris, you'd actually met him a few times. You were sort of hired, freelance, by McLaren as his stylist for events he went too. You were a makeup-artist primarily but there was a few times where the stylist had cancelled last minute so after that one time they trusted you with it all.

Hair Makeup and Clothes.

You were the pure definition of freelance, you didn't have a set place you worked and just worked purley when work came to you.

You started off, fresh out of sixth form working in the newest Sephora in London. And from there you started to do your own work, wedding makeup, birthday makeup, and just whatever took your fancy.

Then you picked up something last minute for the BBC when they were interviewing Lando. It was pretty last minute and you'd been in France only 12 hours before getting the call but after the last eurostar back to London St Pancreas and no sleep you were with Lando.

Pretty much whenever you saw him you were on lots of caffeine and practically crawling through your day.

But this was the biggest job you think you'd ever had. You were doing Lando's makeup for the F1-75 launch at the o2 and being invited there to watch the whole thing.

You werent reallhy into cars, or racing for that matter and you felt bad accepting the ticket but there was part of you was desperate to see your work up on stage.

But you didny know how it was actually Lando who kept asking Mclaren to ask for you and give you these opportunities as he wanted an excuse to see you!

"Hey!" you smile at the team that was setting up to get both Lando and Oscar ready.

"Hey girl! Are you ready for tonight? Heard there's going to be live music and Jack Whitehall is commentating the whole show!" one of the stylists for Oscar exclaims.

"Y/N!" A voice exclaims and you turn to look at the intrusion to see Lando poking his head round the door Oscar sauntering in next to him, a placid and nonchalant look on his face.

"Long time no see!" you grin at him, showing him into the seat he needed to be sat in. You face him to the mirror away from you with a roll of your eyes as he refused to turn himself around just staring up at you.

"So, excited for tonight?" you as running fingers through his hair to which he closes his eyes.

"Not really, big crowds and events arent really my thing" he offers.

"Mmmmm, well im sure it will be over before you know it" you grin. You start to position his head looking at the curls and the shape they were already and debating if you should wash it.

"When did you last wash you hair" you ask pulling at his curls a little.

"Damn, didn't kow we were like that Y/N" he says and your eyes roll as you face him to the mirror.

"You've used to much gel, were going to have to wash it!" you complain before taking him to the basin to rince and wash his hair. After about half and hour of putting in product and later diffusing to get his natural fluffy curls you send him back to the chair.

Oscar went off with his team to go choose some clothes which left you and Lando alone in the room.

"So, we've known each other for a while when will you let me add you on literally any social media?" he asks looking at you in the mirror trying to catch your eyes that are on your makeup that your placing out next to him.

"Hmmm and why would you want that, I'm just your makeup artist" you chide, coming to the front of him and starting to add a little bit of concealer under the dark circles forming.

"You need more sleep" you say as if it was nothing. Not even glancing at him, just using the brush to cover up his lack off sleep.

"Mmmm been practicing on the sim for the new season. New car and all that" he smiles happy that your noticing these things about him.

"Work life balance is important for an athlete you know!" you tell him as you brush through his eyebrows, pulling tweezer up seeing a few out of place ones.

"Mmmm says you, thats your third coffee! You always tired or is it just on your job?" he laughs and you once again roll your eyes too him.

"Look ill give you my number if the next time im asked to do this," you gesture to his face. "I dont need so much concealer to cover up the bags" you offer and his face lights up in a smile.

"Done! Are you free next week its my cousins, uncles mothers friends neighbours birthday" he grins cheekily and you laugh shaking your head.

"You are impossible Lando" you laugh.

"Mmmmm impossible to resist" he winks and again you laugh. You did find him funny, and handsome, he always made sure you were alright ... what was the issue? You thought to yourself.

Liked by lando and others

y/user: this was by far the best event I’ve done in a while! Thank you so much for @ McLaren for inviting me to the launch and letting me style @ lando for the night!

Tagged 3 People

View all comments

lando: Ah always love seeing my biggest fan :)

-> y/user: since when did Carlos and Zac Brown get here?

-> lando: haha, blocked 🚫

-> y/user: but the clout! Jk jk don’t cancel me

fan1: will never skip a Lando/ Y/N post!

-> y/user: neither will I

->lando: neither will i

fan2: they’re so funny I swear to god!

McLaren: We hope to see you at the MTC soon! 🧡🍊���

Oscar Piastri: where did you get those flowers? 🌹

-> y/user: shhh 🤫

Instagram Story Caption:

After a Long Day at the o2 🫶🏼

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[scarletwinterxx]

Every second from now I'm gonna love you completely - dad jaehyun scenario

helloooo ~ maybe i've been missing jaehyun a bit more these past few days so i wrote this. if you're new here or been here for a while🤣 my first ever series i wrote was a dad jaehyun au, it's like my first born. when i wrote that i was still trying to find my writing style, all i know was i wanted to write it. so excuse my mistakes there haha but in case you haven't read it or want to re-read it, click here !!

sooo yea, i have a few more stories lined up. thank you all sooooo much for the love🤍

my x acc - niniramyeonie 😊💛

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025. Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re sitting on the couch, flipping through a book, when Jaeyoon, your husband’s carbon copy, plops down beside you with a loud sigh.

You glance at him. “What’s up, baby?”

Jaeyoon props his chin on his hands. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

You smile knowingly. “You’re always asking me something, Jaeyoon.”

He grins, then immediately launches into his first question. “If a fish gets thirsty, does it drink water?”

You blink. “Uh… technically, yes. But freshwater fish absorb water through their skin, and saltwater fish drink water through their mouths.”

Jaeyoon’s eyes widen. “Woah. So fishes are just drinking and absorbing all the time?”

You chuckle. “Pretty much.”

He nods like he’s processing something groundbreaking. Then—“Okay, next question.”

You raise an eyebrow. “There’s more?”

“Do clouds get tired from floating all day?”

You stare at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “Jaeyoon, where do you come up with these?”

Jaeyoon shrugs, completely serious. “I just think about them.”

You shake your head, pulling him into your arms. Your once little newborn now here having the most random conversions with but you won’t have it any other way.

“You have the biggest brain.” you mumble against his hair

Jaeyoon grins, cuddling into your side. “And I have one more question.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Last one?”

“Last one,” he promises. Then, looking up at you with those big, curious eyes, he asks

“Why do you love me so much?”

Your heart melts on the spot. You hug him even tighter, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Because you’re you, Jaeyoon. You and your sister is my heart beating outside my chest, you’re the best parts of mom and dad”

Jaeyoon sighs happily, snuggling closer. “That’s a good answer, Mom”

You smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He yawns. “Okay, I’m done asking for now.”

You smirk, stroking his hair. “For now?”

But Jaeyoon doesn’t answer—he’s already drifting off, safe and warm in your arms. And you know that tomorrow, and every day after that, there will be a million more questions.

A few hours later, the sky is darker outside. Jaehyun is sitting in his home office, fingers gliding over his laptop keyboard as he reviews a contract. It’s the weekend but he’s trying to catch up on some work after taking a family vacation. The room is quiet except for the occasional clicking of his mouse—until the door swings open without a knock.

Jaeyoon, his youngest who is now 5, marches in “Appa, what are you doing?”

Jaehyun doesn’t even look up. “Working.”

The little man who looks just like him pads closer, tilting his head. “What kind of working?”

Jaehyun sighs, glancing at his mini me. It’s like whenever he looks at his son he sees himself, something you always say is unfair but still love completely

“CEO work.”

Jaeyoon gasps dramatically. “Woah. That sounds so important.”

“It is.” he chuckles at his son’s amusement at such a mundane adult thing. 

Instead of leaving, Jaeyoon clambers onto Jaehyun’s lap, making himself very comfortable. Jaehyun automatically moves his arm to keep the documents from getting messed up, but he doesn’t protest.

Jaeyoon peers at the screen. “What’s that?”

“A contract.”

“What’s a contract?”

“A business agreement.”

“What’s an agreement?”

Jaehyun sighs through a chuckle. “When two people decide on something together.”

Jaeyoon nods like that makes total sense. Then, after a beat he speaks again “Can I type?”

Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow. “Depends. Are you going to send my company into chaos?”

Jaeyoon beams. “Maybe!”

Jaehyun shakes his head but moves his laptop slightly so Jaeyoon can reach the keyboard. “Okay, go ahead.”

Jaeyoon excitedly taps a few random letters: hgfldj.

“Wow,” Jaehyun says, nodding seriously. “That’s some next-level business strategy.”

Jaeyoon grins. “I’m a CEO too now.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun leans back. “What’s your company called?”

Jaeyoon thinks for a moment, then dramatically announces, “Jaeyoon’s Snack Empire!”

Jaehyun laughs. “Sounds like a profitable business.”

“Yep. We sell ice cream, barbecue and cookies.”

“Smart.” Jaehyun grins. “I’d invest.”

Jaeyoon gasps. “Really?”

“But I want 50% of the company.”

Jaeyoon narrows his eyes. “Appa, that’s too much!”

Jaehyun smirks “Negotiation. That’s part of being a CEO too.”

Jaeyoon groans dramatically, sliding off Jaehyun’s lap and climbing onto his desk instead. “This is so hard.”

Jaehyun just chuckles, adjusting his laptop. “Welcome to my world, buddy.”

Jaeyoon sighs but doesn’t leave, now playing with a paperweight on the desk. Jaehyun lets him, continuing to work as his little boy fidgets and chats about everything. And even though Jaehyun is busy, he doesn’t mind at all because no matter how important his work is—his little CEO-in-training will always be more important.

Chaeyoon bursts through the front door, kicking off her sneakers without much care. Her backpack slides off her shoulder as she yells, “Mom! You won’t believe what happened today!”

You glance up from the kitchen counter, where you’re slicing fruit for Jaeyoon’s afternoon snack. Your five-year-old son is sitting on a stool, swinging his legs while munching on a cookie.

“What happened, sweetheart?” you ask, wiping your hands on a towel.

Chaeyoon drops her backpack with a thud, walking over with wide eyes, as if she’s about to share the most shocking news of the year. “A boy—Mom, a boy—asked me to get ice cream with him after school.”

You blink, taking a second to process. “Oh?”

Jaeyoon gasps dramatically beside you. “Noona, are you getting married?!”

Chaeyoon groans. “Jaeyoon, no! It’s just ice cream!”

You bite back a smile, setting the knife down. “So, who is this boy?” you ask, keeping your tone light

Chaeyoon sighs, pushing her hair back. “His name is Minho. He’s in my class. We sit next to each other in science, and I guess we’re kinda friends?” She pauses, then adds, “But I didn’t say yes yet.”

“Why not?” you ask curiously.

She frowns. “I dunno. It felt... weird?”

Jaeyoon leans closer, eyes shining. “Did he say you’re pretty?”

Chaeyoon glares at him. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

You chuckle, running a hand through her hair despite her protests. “Well, I think it’s sweet that he asked. Do you want to go?”

She hesitates. “Maybe? But also... I don’t know what Dad would say.”

Ah. There it is.

Jaehyun, your loving but sometimes very overprotective husband, has always been a little sensitive when it comes to his little girl growing up.

And you can already imagine his reaction.

You smile, wiping your hands on a dish towel as you watch your daughter shift nervously. “Well,” you say casually, “if you want to go, then you can tell your dad. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

Chaeyoon’s eyes widen in pure betrayal. “Mom!”

Jaeyoon giggles beside you. “Appa is gonna explode!”

You laugh, ruffling your son’s hair before turning back to Chaeyoon. “Sweetheart, your dad never says no to you. If you tell him, I bet he’ll—” you pause, thinking of Jaehyun’s usual soft spot for his kids, “—well, I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”

The truth is, even you aren’t entirely sure how Jaehyun will react to this one. He can’t say no when Chaeyoon asks for another bedtime story or when Jaeyoon wants to sleep in your bed after a nightmare. He folds instantly when they give him their puppy-dog eyes.

But this? His little girl being asked out for ice cream by a boy? This might be the one thing that actually shakes him.

Chaeyoon huffs, crossing her arms. “You just want to see what he says.”

You grin, leaning on the counter. “Maybe a little.”

Jaeyoon claps excitedly. “I wanna tell Appa! I wanna see his face!”

Chaeyoon groans, but she’s laughing, too. “I should just say no and avoid this whole thing.”

You tilt your head. “Is that what you want?”

She hesitates, then sighs. “No. I think I wanna go.”

“Then you should tell your dad,” you say simply, enjoying this way more than you should

Just as you say that, the front door opens, and Jaehyun walks in, loosening his tie with one hand. “I’m home,” he calls out, his voice warm but tired from the workday.

Jaeyoon immediately jumps down from his stool and runs to him. “Appa! Noona has big news!”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Chaeyoon groans again. “Jaeyoon!”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of them before his eyes land on you. “Big news?” he repeats, stepping further inside.

You give Chaeyoon a small smile. “Go on, sweetheart. Tell him.”

And as she shifts nervously, you watch Jaehyun. He’s completely unaware that his world is about to be shaken.

Jaehyun’s brows furrow slightly as he looks at Chaeyoon. “What’s going on?”

Chaeyoon groans, shifting on her feet. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing…” She glances at you for help, but you simply smile and motion for her to go on.

Jaeyoon, impatient as ever, blurts out, “A boy asked Noona to eat ice cream with him!”

Silence.

Jaehyun blinks. Once. Twice.

Then, very slowly, he turns to Chaeyoon. “What?”

Chaeyoon groans again, covering her face. “Ugh, I knew this was going to be a thing.”

Jaehyun stays completely still, processing. You watch as his jaw tenses ever so slightly, and you swear you see his fingers twitch like he’s fighting the urge to tighten his tie again. You bite your lip, thoroughly enjoying this.

Jaehyun clears his throat. “So… a boy.”

Chaeyoon nods reluctantly.

Jaehyun continues, “And he asked you to get ice cream?”

Another slow nod. Jaehyun blinks again, still looking like his brain is buffering. Then, he shifts his gaze to you, as if asking for backup.

You shrug innocently. “I told her if she wants to go, she should ask you.”

His eyes narrow slightly. He knows exactly what you’re doing.

Jaeyoon tugs at Jaehyun’s sleeve. “Appa, are you okay? Your face looks weird.”

Jaehyun exhales slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, after a long pause, he looks at Chaeyoon again. “Who is this boy?”

“Minho,” she mutters.

“Minho,” Jaehyun repeats, like he’s committing the name to memory for later investigation. “How old is he?”

“He’s in my class, Dad.”

Jaehyun nods, still processing. Then, in a very calm but very careful voice, he asks, “And why does he want to take you out for ice cream?”

Chaeyoon shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe because we’re friends? And he likes ice cream?”

Jaehyun exhales again, then finally looks at you. Help me, his eyes plead.

But you just smile sweetly. “So? Can she go?”

His lips part like he wants to say no. You know he wants to say no. But this is Chaeyoon, his baby girl. The same baby girl who used to sit on his lap and call him her prince. The same one who still kisses his cheek before bed. And as much as he wants to protest, Jaehyun has never been able to say no to her.

He sighs, finally dropping his shoulders. “Is he coming here?”

Chaeyoon shakes her head. “We were just gonna meet there after school.”

Jaehyun nods slowly. “Fine. But—” he raises a finger, his CEO voice slipping through, “—I want to meet him first.”

Chaeyoon groans but smiles. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

Jaeyoon pumps his fists. “Noona’s going on a date!”

“It’s not a date!”

Jaehyun mutters under his breath, “It better not be.”

And as you watch him struggle between being a protective dad and trying to respect Chaeyoon’s growing independence, you can’t help but laugh.

Jaehyun shoots you a look. “You set me up.”

You grin. “Maybe a little.”

Later that night, after the kids are asleep, you and Jaehyun finally crawl into bed. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the walls.

Jaehyun lets out a deep sigh as he sinks into the mattress, rubbing a hand down his face. “Today was… a lot.”

You chuckle, turning to your side to face him. “Oh, you mean finding out your baby girl is growing up and might actually hang out with a boy?”

Jaehyun groans dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

You laugh, scooting closer and resting your head against his shoulder. “You survived.”

“Barely,” he mutters.

You trail a finger along his arm, feeling the tension still lingering in his muscles. “You know, you are going to have to deal with this eventually. She’s not always going to be your little girl.”

Jaehyun removes his arm from his face, turning his head to look at you. “She’ll always be my little girl.”

You smile softly. “I know, but she’s also getting older. And you can’t scare away every boy who looks at her.”

He smirks. “Wanna bet?”

You laugh, swatting at his arm. “Jae”

He sighs again, rolling onto his side so he’s facing you. “I just… I know she’s smart, and I trust her. But the thought of some boy liking her—of her liking him back—it makes me insane.”

You gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Because you don’t want to let her go.”

Jaehyun exhales, his eyes softening. “Yeah.”

You press a kiss to his forehead. “You don’t have to. She’ll always need you, just in different ways.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “You always know what to say.”

You grin. “That’s why you married me.”

Jaehyun chuckles, his grip tightening slightly. “One day, some boy is going to look at Chaeyoon the way I look at you.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you also see the slight panic in his eyes. You press your palm against his cheek, making him meet your gaze. “And when that day comes, you’ll be okay. Because you’ve shown her what real love looks like.”

He stares at you for a moment before exhaling and burying his face in your neck. “You’re too good at this.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “I just know my husband.”

Jaehyun hums against your skin. “Remind me to keep Jaeyoon small forever. I can’t handle two of them growing up.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Good luck with that.”

He tightens his hold around you, as if holding onto this moment—onto you, onto the family you’ve built together. And even though you know he’ll always be a little overprotective, a little reluctant to let go, you also know that no matter what, Jaehyun will always, always be the best dad to your kids.

You’re still wrapped up in Jaehyun’s arms, the warmth of his body keeping you perfectly comfortable, when you suddenly feel something or someone climbing onto the bed.

A small hand pats your cheek. “Mom.”

You groan softly, burying your face into Jaehyun’s chest. “Mm… too early, baby.”

Jaeyoon isn’t deterred. He pats your cheek again, more insistent this time. “Mom. Appa.”

Jaehyun grumbles lowly, his grip on you tightening as he tries to stay asleep. “Five more minutes, buddy.”

Jaeyoon ignores him completely. “Noona is going on a date today.”

Both you and Jaehyun immediately open your eyes.

Jaehyun sits up so fast that Jaeyoon nearly topples over. “It’s not a date!” he says, voice still groggy but fully alert now.

Jaeyoon giggles, climbing onto his lap. “But Appa, they’re getting ice cream.”

Jaehyun exhales, running a hand down his face. “Why does this feel worse when you say it like that?”

You stifle a laugh, sitting up as well. “Sweetheart, did you come in here just to remind us?”

Jaeyoon nods enthusiastically. ��Uh-huh. And also because I’m hungry.”

Jaehyun groans, flopping back onto the bed. “This family is going to be the death of me.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning to Jaeyoon. “Alright, let’s get you some breakfast.”

Jaeyoon claps happily and slides off the bed. But before he leaves, he turns to Jaehyun with a mischievous grin. “Appa, what if Noona kisses Minho?”

Jaehyun sits up again. “That’s not happening!”

Jaeyoon giggles and sprints out of the room before Jaehyun can say anything else.

You shake your head, laughing as you reach for Jaehyun’s hand. “You okay, babe?”

He groans, throwing himself back onto the pillows. “No. I need coffee. And maybe therapy.”

You chuckle, tugging him up. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get through today first.”

Jaehyun sighs dramatically, but when he looks at you, there’s warmth in his eyes. “Only because you’re here.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Always.”

Later after school, you’re in the living room with Jaeyoon who’s sprawled out on the floor, coloring in his favorite book. He hums a little tune as he draws, completely unbothered by the fact that his Noona isn’t home yet.

You, on the other hand, are very aware of the time. Not because you’re worried but because you know who will be. Right on cue, the front door opens. Jaehyun steps inside, immediately loosening his tie and checking his watch. Again.

You don’t even get the chance to greet him before he says, “What time did you say Chaeyoon was coming home?”

You smirk. “I didn’t say.”

Jaehyun lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes. “It’s already past five.”

Jaeyoon looks up from his coloring. “Appa, you checked your watch like a hundred times.”

Jaehyun ignores him, turning to you instead. “Have you heard from her?”

You shake your head, amused. “She texted when she left school. She’s probably still with Minho.”

Jaehyun visibly clenches his jaw. “Still?”

You chuckle, patting the couch beside you. “Babe, relax.”

Jaehyun does not relax. Instead, he pulls out his phone, scrolling as if that will somehow make Chaeyoon text faster. “I should’ve picked her up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And then what? Sat between them at the ice cream shop?”

Jaeyoon bursts into giggles. “Appa would’ve stared at Minho like this.” He scrunches up his face, narrowing his eyes into an intense glare.

You laugh. “That’s exactly how he’d look.”

Jaehyun groans, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t funny.”

You reach over, tugging him down to sit beside you. “It’s a little funny.”

Jaehyun grumbles but lets you pull him close. He leans back against the couch, checking his watch again.

“She’ll be home soon,” you assure him. “And when she gets here, you can interrogate her all you want.”

Jaeyoon gasps dramatically. “Appa’s gonna use his CEO voice!”

Jaehyun huffs. “I am not.”

Jaeyoon grins. “Are too.”

Jaehyun doesn’t argue because maybe he is. Just a little. Just as Jaehyun is admiring Jaeyoon’s latest masterpiece, a crayon drawing of your family with an extra large version of himself. There’s the sound of the front door unlocking.

Jaehyun immediately checks his watch again.

You smirk. “See? She’s home at a perfectly reasonable time.” Jaehyun doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands up, crosses his arms, and waits.

Chaeyoon steps inside, setting her backpack down before kicking off her shoes. “I’m home!” she calls out casually.

Jaeyoon runs up to her, arms flailing. “Noona! Did you have your date?”

Chaeyoon groans. “It wasn’t a date, Jaeyoon.”

Jaehyun clears his throat. Loudly. Chaeyoon turns her head and there’s her dad. Standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, looking exactly how she expected him to.

She sighs, dragging her feet toward the couch. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Get what over with?”

“The interrogation.” She plops onto the couch, throwing her arms over the backrest. “Go ahead, Appa. Ask your many questions.”

Jaehyun doesn’t waste a second. “How long have you known him?”

“Like a year, we’re classmates”

“Why haven’t I heard about him before?”

She sighs. “Because you’re like this.”

Jaehyun ignores that. “Does he have good grades?”

Chaeyoon blinks. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I need to know if he’s responsible.”

Chaeyoon groans. “Yes, Appa, he has good grades.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes. “What did you talk about?”

“Ice cream. School. Normal stuff.”

“Did he—” Jaehyun’s expression turns even more serious. “—hold the door for you?”

Chaeyoon stares. “…Yes?”

Jaehyun exhales, nodding slowly. “Okay. That’s a start.”

You shake your head, fully entertained by this. Jaeyoon climbs onto the couch beside Chaeyoon. “Did you hold hands?”

Jaehyun immediately looks at her.

Chaeyoon gags. “EW. No.”

Jaehyun nods approvingly. “Good.”

Chaeyoon groans again. “Ugh, Appa, you’re so dramatic. It was just ice cream.”

Jaehyun eyes her for a moment before finally sighing, sitting down beside her. His posture softens a little. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Chaeyoon leans against him with a small smile. “I know. And I promise, Minho is just a friend.”

Jaehyun lets out another deep breath, wrapping an arm around her. “Okay. But next time, I want to meet him.”

Chaeyoon pulls away, eyes wide. “Appa. No.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “I need to make sure he understands that you have a very intimidating father.”

Chaeyoon groans dramatically, flopping onto the couch. “You’re impossible.”

Jaeyoon grins, climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap. “Appa, when I get a girlfriend, you can meet her, okay?”

Jaehyun blinks. “What?”

You burst out laughing as Jaehyun looks like he’s about to have an entire crisis.

Chaeyoon smirks. “Yeah, Appa. You have two kids to worry about.”

Jaehyun groans, rubbing his temples. “I need another coffee.”

And as the kids giggle, and you lean into him with an affectionate smile, you realize you wouldn’t trade this chaotic, loving family for anything.

The call from Jaeyoon’s school comes in the middle of the afternoon. You answer, and the moment you hear the words "Jaeyoon had a little accident during an activity," your heart skips a beat. The teacher quickly reassures you that he’s okay ust a scraped knee and a little bump but you’re already grabbing your bag.

Jaehyun, who had just gotten home early from a meeting, notices the shift in your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You exhale. “Jaeyoon tripped at school. He’s hurt, but they said it’s not too bad.”

Jaehyun’s face hardens. “Let’s go.”

Within minutes, the two of you are in the car, driving to the school. Jaehyun grips the steering wheel tightly, jaw clenched. He doesn’t say much, but you can tell his mind is racing.

When you arrive at the nurse’s office, Jaeyoon is sitting on the little cot, his legs swinging as he stares down at his bandaged knee. His face is scrunched up in frustration. The moment he sees the both of you, his lips press together in a thin line, and he immediately sits up straighter.

“Hey, buddy,” Jaehyun says softly, crouching down to his level. “What happened?”

Jaeyoon crosses his arms. “I tripped during the race.” His voice is a little wobbly, but he clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “But I’m okay. I didn’t cry.”

You exchange a glance with Jaehyun before sitting beside Jaeyoon. “It’s okay if you want to, sweetheart.”

Jaeyoon shakes his head stubbornly. “Big boys don’t cry.”

Jaehyun sighs, reaching out to pull Jaeyoon into his arms. And the moment he does, Jaeyoon completely melts  He buries his face in Jaehyun’s chest, his small fingers gripping onto his father’s shirt. A choked little sob escapes him, and then, suddenly, he’s really crying.

Jaehyun just holds him tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head. “It’s okay, buddy. You can cry.”

Jaeyoon sniffles, his tiny shoulders trembling. “I tried so hard, Appa.”

“I know,” Jaehyun whispers, rubbing his back. “And you’re still the bravest boy I know.”

Jaeyoon clings to him, sobbing softly. Jaehyun doesn’t rush him, doesn’t tell him to stop he just lets him feel everything, lets him be small in this moment.

You stroke Jaeyoon’s hair gently. “You know… being strong doesn’t mean not crying. It means getting back up even when you’re hurt.”

Jaeyoon sniffles, pulling back slightly to look up at Jaehyun. “Really?”

Jaehyun nods, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “Really. And you did get back up, didn’t you?”

Jaeyoon nods hesitantly. “Yeah…”

Jaehyun smiles, kissing the top of his head. “Then you’re the strongest boy I know.”

Jaeyoon lets out a little hiccup, then slowly finally smiles. “Okay.”

You and Jaehyun exchange a soft look, hearts swelling with love for your little boy.

And as Jaehyun lifts Jaeyoon into his arms, holding him close all the way to the car, you know no matter how big he gets, Jaeyoon will always have a place to feel safe.

The drive home is peaceful, the soft hum of the car engine filling the quiet night. Jaeyoon and Chaeyoon are completely knocked out in the backseat, their heads tilted at awkward angles, mouths slightly open.

Jaehyun glances at them through the rearview mirror and smirks. “Didn’t even last five minutes.”

You chuckle, watching Jaeyoon’s little chest rise and fall steadily. “I knew Jaeyoon would fall asleep fast, but Chaeyoon too? She must’ve been really full.”

Jaehyun shakes his head fondly. “She tried to act like she wasn’t, but I saw her struggling with that last piece of meat.”

You laugh softly, resting your head against the car window. The streetlights blur past, casting a warm glow over the quiet city. The moment feels so calm—just the two of you, with your babies fast asleep in the back.

Jaehyun exhales, one hand still on the wheel, the other casually resting on his lap. “Feels like just yesterday they were tiny.”

You smile, your heart swelling at the memories. “I know… Remember when Chaeyoon was born? We had no idea what we were doing.”

Jaehyun lets out a low chuckle. “You figured things out fast. I was freaking out every five seconds.”

“You were not.”

“I was.” He shakes his head, eyes still on the road. “I was scared to even hold her at first. She was so small.”

You glance back at your daughter, now twelve, long legs curled up on the seat. “She’s not so small anymore.”

Jaehyun sighs. “No, she’s not.”

There’s a beat of silence before he smiles softly. “Jaeyoon, though… That boy came into this world yelling.”

You laugh, covering your mouth to keep quiet. “Oh, God, he was so loud. The nurse literally said, ‘Wow, this one has a lot to say.’”

Jaehyun grins. “And she was right. He hasn’t stopped talking since.”

You sigh, glancing out the window. “Sometimes I wish we could go back. Just for a little while. Hold them when they were tiny again.”

Jaehyun reaches over, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “I know.” His voice is soft, full of understanding. “But we’re still here. Still watching them grow.”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his. “And freaking out over ice cream dates.”

Jaehyun groans, tilting his head back. “Don’t remind me.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’ll survive, babe.”

He glances at you with a smirk. “Will I?”

You grin, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Of course.”

Jaehyun chuckles, eyes crinkling as he pulls into your driveway. “As long as I have you.”

And as you sit there, watching your babies sleep peacefully in the backseat, you realize—these moments, the quiet ones, the ordinary ones—are the ones that make life so beautiful.

[crushpunky]

actress!reader gets asked about drew

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based on this ask. a sort of compilation of y/n telling cute stories <3

Y/n settled in the chair opposite the podcast’s host, Claire, adjusting the mic as the interview began.

“Hello and welcome to another episode of Chit-Chat with me, your host, Claire Hale!” Claire said cheerfully before turning to face y/n. “Today we are going to be talking with the wonderfully talented y/n y/ln. Welcome!”

“Hi, thank you so much for having me.” Y/n smiled, smoothing a hand along her pants as the two of them launched into casual conversation, ranging in topics from y/n’s childhood to her favorite movies and her morning routine.

“So, I think the people are dying to know, how is married life?” Claire said, dropping her jaw open exaggeratedly. Y/n laughed, absentmindedly fidgeting with the diamond ring adorning her finger.

“It is great.” Y/n smiled. “I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, y’know? Like I thought that I was happy before we got engaged, but actually being married is a whole other level.”

“Ugh, that’s so cute.” Claire swooned, causing y/n’s cheeks to warm as she thought back to the memory of waking up this morning in Drew’s arms. It was something that happened nearly every morning, but each time it made her heart flutter and fall impossibly more in love with him.

“I’m not even trying to over exaggerate or put on an act, I am just genuinely so happy right now.” Y/n continued, folding her hands in her lap as she smiled to herself.

“I think we are all so happy to hear that.” Claire nodded. “You and Drew have been together for such a long time, it’s so nice to just see two people who truly love and care for their work and each other. Speaking of, how do you guys sort of find that balance between work life and personal life, with both of you spending so much time away acting or away on projects?”

“It’s taken a lot of practice,” y/n chuckled. “Lots of hours of late night FaceTime calls and missed dinners until we both kind of decided that we needed to set up some boundaries and some of what we call ‘no excusers’.”

“‘No excusers’?” Claire asked, leaning in intently with a quirk of her brow. Y/n nodded, thinking back to when Drew and her had originally come up with the term. It had been after Drew missed a dinner with y/n’s parents, a dinner he had promised to be at amidst his busy schedule, just a day after y/n had to cancel on one of their preplanned coffee dates.

“Yeah, Drew and I sort of set up this system where we have certain things that we call ‘no excusers’.” Y/n explained. “They are things that the other person has to be at, or at least help to reschedule to be at, no excuses.”

“Both of us have such busy schedules, so it can just be super easy to retreat into yourself and just say ‘oh I’m too busy’ or ‘I can’t’, but we both knew that we wanted to be there for the other person when they needed it most, even if it was hard.” Y/n continued. “So, with the ‘no excusers’ we are sort of making a promise to the other person that we can count on them to be there for us, no excuses.”

“Really making sure to set aside time for you guys and your relationship and what’s important to that relationship.” Claire clarified.

“Yes.” Y/n agreed. “Neither of us had really been in a relationship with another actor or person in the industry, so we knew we had to make time for each other in our busy schedules if we wanted to keep this relationship.”

“That’s really sweet.” Claire grinned. “So, speaking of busy schedules, how did you guys find time out of yours to get married? I mean both of you had such huge and busy years last year, so I think everyone was pretty shocked to hear that you guys got married.”

“I think we were pretty shocked that we found the time too.” Y/n joked, causing Claire to laugh. Y/n remembered back to all the hectic planning on sets and over FaceTimes, getting dresses tried on between meetings with producers, tasting different cakes from the comfort of their home, pajamas on.

“No, but in all seriousness, I think we were both just so excited to get married that we were going to find time for it no matter how busy our schedules were.” Y/n said. “Both of us could barely wait a minute longer, like I remember that we had a countdown on the whiteboard in our kitchen, ‘Days Until We’re Married’, and we just made a huge deal of it each day counting down. Music, dancing, cheering, the whole shabang.”

“Stop, that’s so funny.” Claire chuckled.

“Our neighbors probably hated us, but we didn’t care.” Y/n giggled. “Like, did you expect me to not be excited to marry the love of my life?”

“No, you’re right, I can only imagine how excited you guys were.” Claire nodded. “I mean, you’ve been together for so long, like, four years?”

“Publically, yes, but privately about five.” Y/n giggled as Claire’s eyes widened.

“How did you guys even manage that?” Claire asked incredulously. “I mean, Outer Banks, like, blew up during that time, you must’ve had so many eyes on you.”

“Ha ha, yeah, that was certainly a very interesting time.” Y/n chuckled, remembering how the two of them would try and sneak around downtown Charleston, ducking into darkened allies to kiss like teenagers.

“It was during COVID, so for a while we just stayed inside. There weren’t very many opportunities to catch us, aside from the occasional social media post or livestream, but I think that we kept it pretty lowkey. I mean we already lived together, so we weren’t going back and forth between each other's places or anything like that.” Y/n continued. “But when things kinda started going back to normal, and we were going out more and more eyes were on us, it certainly became a lot harder.”

Y/n thought about a particular time in which a fan had snuck a picture of the two of them sitting on a bench just off the beach. The two of them shared AirPods, chatting casually. They hadn’t even realized that y/n had ended up perched in Drew’s lap, his hands resting on her hips as their faces sat just inches away from each other. They were too caught up in the moment, and in each other, to realize they were in public until they saw the photos later that afternoon.

“There were… multiple times where people pointed out something or noticed something that we hadn’t even thought about and we thought like ‘oh shit, we’ve been caught’, but we always managed to sorta weasel our way out of it.” Y/n giggled, brushing a bit of hair away from her face. “It was hard, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“Yeah,” Claire nodded. “That sort of situation definitely helps you guys to keep the relationship real, y’know? How did you guys decide to keep it private for so long? Was that a mutual decision?”

“Yes, yes it was definitely something we both agreed upon.” Y/n said. “I think we both wanted to make sure that our relationship was authentic and real, not just something shaped by other peoples’ perspectives or opinions. I really do think that that time where we kept things between ourselves helped to shape our relationship.”

“I know you said you kept it between yourselves, but other people definitely knew, right? They had to.” Claire asked.

“I honestly think that some of them knew before we knew ourselves.” Y/n laughed. There were so many moments and stares shared by the people around them who recognized the very obvious feelings between y/n and Drew. So many friends and family members would comment on the almost magnetic attraction the two exhibited, practically unable to go anywhere without the other. 

“But in all seriousness, yes people knew.” Y/n continued. “We kept it just between us for like… a month, month and a half maybe? But then we shared it with our friends, the Outer Banks cast, but they kinda already knew since we were all living together. Then a little after that we told our parents on FaceTime— because of COVID— and they also kinda had their suspicions.”

“That’s so funny.” Claire grinned. “Well, y/n, I really appreciate you taking the time to Chit-Chat with us! It was so much fun!”

“Thank you so much!” Y/n grinned. “Thank you for having me, it was a lot of fun.”

“Once again, thank you for watching and thank you for Chit-Chatting with us!” Claire said, her and y/n waving goodbye to the video and listeners at home.

[thesimstree]

Clear Sims 4 Cache: Fix Lags, Errors & Slow Loading (Windows & macOS)

Sometimes The Sims 4 starts acting weird: little bugs pop up, thumbnails don't display right, and loading times get a bit longer than usual. These are all pretty normal signs that it's time to clear your game cache. Deleting temporary files is a good habit for any player – it helps keep things tidy and makes everything run a little smoother. Let's figure out together what cache is, why you need to clear it, and how to do it properly and safely.

What is cache and where does it come from?  

In The Sims 4, cache means temporary files and folders that the game creates to speed up loading, store thumbnails, save mod info, log errors, and handle various in-game processes.  

Every time you start or play the game, it generates or updates some of these files. Cache is there so the game “remembers” which thumbnails and objects you’ve used lately, finds things quickly, and saves certain settings and operational data.

The cache includes:  

— Images (thumbnails) of Sims, lots, and objects;  

— Temporary settings and launch data;  

— Working data from mods and scripts;  

— Logs about errors, crashes, memory limit overflows, etc.

Why do you need to clear the cache?  

If you don’t clear the cache regularly, it builds up old or corrupted data – which can lead to all sorts of problems:

Lags and long loading times because of excess or broken files;

Errors and crashes, especially after removing or updating mods or the game itself;

Wrong thumbnails showing: for example, an item is deleted but its thumbnail is still there;

Mod and script bugs due to leftover data;

Endless loading screens, crashes, or even corrupted saves;

Overall drop in performance.

This happens especially often if you use a lot of custom content or actively add/remove mods.

How often should you clear your cache?

1. After every game update.

2. Whenever you make changes to the Mods folder (adding, deleting, or updating mods).

3. If you notice weird bugs, really long loads, crashes, or errors.

How to clear Sims 4 cache (Windows and macOS)  

Step 1  

Exit the game. Never clear cache while the application is running.

Step 2  

Open The Sims 4 folder:  

Documents — Electronic Arts — The Sims 4

Step 3  

Delete the following files and folders (important – not all of the folders or files listed below will always be in your The Sims 4 folder, and that's totally normal):

General cache  

— cache (folder): holds temporary data (mostly image previews from the Gallery); this folder gets filled only while the game is running, so you can safely clear it between sessions  

— cachestr (folder): cache for script mods  

— onlinethumbnailcache (folder): thumbnails of Gallery items  

— avatarcache.package: used mainly to fix Gallery errors on Mac, but can grow quite large  

— localsimtexturecache.package: cache of composite sim textures (max size – 100 MB); deleting helps solve character display issues  

— localthumbcache.package: thumbnail file; it’s useful to delete this from time to time, and absolutely after adding, deleting or updating mods  

— UserData.lock: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up  

— ReticulatedSplinesView: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up (deleting this file will cause all your packs to register as "new" again, this means pop-ups on the main menu and all content will have the "new" gold star highlight again)  

— notify.glob: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up  

— ConnectionStatus.txt: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up  

Error logs  

— lastCrash.txt (all files)  

— lastException.txt (all files)  

— lastUIException.txt (all files)  

These log crashes and game errors. Most players don’t need these, but if you’re having constant errors you can show them on forums for troubleshooting. Old ones (with numbers) can always be deleted.

Auxiliary folders (delete only if empty)  

— ConfigOverride

— Recorded Videos  

— Screenshots  

Step 4 (optional)  

You can take it a step further and clear cache files built up by certain mods:  

— BE-ExceptionReport.html (all files)  

— BE-UIExceptionReport.html (all files)  

— WickedWhimsInfoLog.log / WonderfulWhimsInfoLog.log  

Important: Don’t delete the Saves, Tray, or Mods folders – these are your games and custom content.

Step 5  

Restart the game. Sims 4 will automatically recreate all the necessary files from scratch. You may need to re-enable mods and CC in the game settings after clearing the cache.

You can make it easier  

For players who want to cut down on the routine, there’s an automated solution – a Cleanup Script for Windows by @andirz-mods. This is a special one-click utility that automatically deletes all recommended temporary files and error logs, without touching your mods or save files.

It automates the cleanup, but you’ll need a Patreon subscription to the author for access.  

So, to make sure you can always tidy things up quickly on your own (without scripts or third-party programs), keep this guide handy:

🌱 Create your family tree with TheSimsTree

❓ Support 🌸 Our Blog

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain.

this one was kind of short, but heres part two! smut and rosie lore to come soon!

series masterlist here

part two: you ought’a wear sunscreen, lovie

Simon lay in the large cold bed of the guest room he had been provided about a week after his arrival to the cabin, wide awake. The sun was just starting to come up and he hadn’t yet slept, hadn’t even tried. How could he when you were in the room next to him snuggled up into your mound of blankets on the bed? He cursed John out when he had called him after his arrival. How had he left you out of the details when he’d coaxed him into coming to the cabin? ‘Forgoht ‘bout her, pretty little one, ain’t she?’ He had chuckled into the other end of the phone. ‘S’only for a couple o’months, LT, s’long as you’re nice to ‘er she’ll keep your belly full and your clothes clean.’ He hung up after that, and hadn’t picked up any of Simon’s calls or answered a message since.  

Forgot about her, Simon scoffed just thinking about it. He didn’t believe it for a second. How could Price possibly forget about the shy, beautifully curvy, unmated, impossibly adorable Omega he paid to be a live-in housekeeper for the cabin he conveniently sent his unmated, typically uncontrollable problem Alpha to vacation in? He smelled matchmaking all over it and he hated it. 

‘But it’s working.’ Simon grunted, rolling onto his side in hopes that his inner monologue would get the memo to shut up. ‘It’s working and you know it’ And goddess, he did. It was working. She was beautiful, and so deliciously plump and he wanted to kick himself for being an ass when he first spoke to her. He wanted to kick himself for wanting nothing more than to mark her, rub his scent all over her, keep her barefoot and fat and round with his pups. He wanted to kick himself for the way he felt his cock grow hard at just the thought of putting his pups in her. He was better than that, wasn’t he? 

He wanted to kick himself for the way that he already felt protective over her, as if he had already mated and impregnated her. As if they were already married. He felt himself wanting to be no more than an arms length away from her and he barely spoke to her. She dropped a knife while she was loading the dishwasher after supper the night before and he could have cried when he heard her mumble and ‘ow’ and bend down to rub her foot. ‘Should’ve been me, should’ve been me, should’ve been me’ He had heard his wolf chant over and over in his head and he had to really work to remember that he was an extremely disciplined man because without barely a thought he almost launched himself over the kitchen island to make sure you were okay. His fist clenched at just the memory of it. 

He could’ve cried when he heard your soft moan filter through the thin walls of the cabin, you were waking up and he would be subject to another day of breathing in your scent, of wanting to protect and hold you and not being able to.. ‘And why aren’t we able to? What’s stopping you?!” That voice again. That stupid stupid wolf trying to take over his rational sided mind. 

What was stopping him?

Nothing physically, he presumed. Aside from himself…it was always himself. The memories of watching his Alpha father and how he treated his Omega mother..of not feeling like a good enough Alpha himself because he couldn’t always protect her. Couldn’t always stop him..how could he possibly be good enough to protect this sweet little thing that was being dangled in front of him? You didn’t deserve inadequacy. He doesn’t deserve you. You want to bury your ugly mug between her legs..she made you a fucking pot roast and homemade desserts and you don’t deserve her? He’d never wanted to shut the wolf up more. 

You moved as quietly as you could, not wanting to disturb Simon in the room next door as you shuffled through the room, gathering fresh panties and a pretty little sundress for the day before making your way to the bathroom across the hall. The shower head spits out hot water almost immediately and you sigh, dropping your overly large sleep shirt to the floor as you step in, moaning as the steamy water rolls over your tense shoulders. You hadn’t been sleeping very well, images of your Papa floating behind your eyelids every time you closed them, causing you to toss and turn or wake up in a fright if you had managed to even fall asleep. 

You hum as you wet your head, massaging shampoo into it as you try to scrub the images and dreams from your mind, leaving you in a better mood by the time you’re done. 

By the time you step out it had been nearly an hour since you’d stepped in, your skin exfoliated and smooth, shining even. Your hair washed and conditioned, soft and silky and wrapped in a towel above your head where it would stay until you were ready to blow dry it in your bedroom, sat in front of your vanity. You take the time to lather your body in lotion, a cozy smelling one that moisturized your already smooth and shining skin before you slipped into your panties and tightened the little corset on the back of your sundress. 

It was a white number, with little roses on it that fell to just above your ankles and showed off plenty of cleavage. The skin of your chest was already red from the sun the other day when you were out in the garden, tending to the vegetables while Simon lounged in the living room (though unbeknownst to you he had spent the whole time watching your every move out of the window next to the plush armchair he had taken post in, waiting for something to happen so he could jump to your rescue), you had forgotten your sunblock again and the hat you wore atop your head did nothing to help protect your delicate skin from the blistering rays of the summer sun. 

A part of you wondered what Simon would think of the dress, and as you thought it your cheeks flushed, making you hurry across the hall back to your room to finish getting ready before he caught you, you could hear him rumbling around the other guest room, you were sure he’d be wanting the bathroom any moment now. 

Another hour passes before you decide that you’re ready to leave the sanctuary of your room, hair braided and tied with a cream colored ribbon, glasses on your face instead of your normal contacts (your eyes were bugging you, your head pounding - which in hindsight probably was a warning that your heat was coming) and a bit of makeup splattered across your face, presentable to the public..to Simon..

He’s already in the kitchen when you hit the stairs, you can smell the coffee starting to brew and hear the clumsy sound of him tinkering around in there, muttering to himself, though what he’s muttering about you’re unsure, not able to make out the words exactly. “Simon?” You question, stepping down off of the final stair, headed for the coat rack to grab your purse and your big sunhat. 

“Ye-” He choked on his own words and you turned to see if maybe he had burned himself with the coffee, not expecting to find him staring at you, wide eyed under his mask. You cock your head to the side, concerned, purse dangling from your hands as you make to step towards him. “You..uh..” He he clears his throat, closes his eyes for a second before looking at you again. “You look..pretty..” He says, and almost as soon as the words leave his mouth you feel your cheeks begin to heat, averting your eyes as you fidget with your skirt. “Did you need somethin’, Lovie?” 

It’s your turn to stutter and choke now, and you do, opening and closing your mouth a couple of times before you remember what you had begun to say in the first place. “I was just going to see if you wanted to go into town with me?” He thinks we’re pretty! He thinks we’re pretty! Your wolf howls in your already aching head, causing you to wince just the littlest of bits. “I need to grab a few things from the market..thought maybe you might want to get out..” When he doesn’t respond right away you panic, and word vomit starts to come out, not even realizing you’ve cut him off from speaking. “I mean of course, only if you want to..it’s stupid of me to assume that you even want to leave, i guess you’re technically on vacation right? How silly to think that you’d want to leave the house..anyway i’ll just be gone a few hours..” 

He’s got his back turned to you by the time you’re finished, fishing for something in a drawer. You dumb ditzy bitch! You’ve ruined it! Ruined! “You outght’a put on some sunscreen, lovie..” He says, turning around with a tube of it in his large hand. Oh! He’s so thoughtful! He’s so sweet! Providing for us like a good alpha! Can we thank him? Can we kiss him? Please, please, please!!! “S’long walk into town, s’awful sunny out..” Before you know it, his large palm is smathering a layer of the thick lotion onto your bare skin, grazing the top of your breasts. Your face is on fire, heat rushing to it, though you can’t look away from him, his brown eyes on yours as he works it in. “There ye’go, can’t have this delicate skin puckering up out there, can we?” His touch is lingering, caressing even, and you open your mouth to say something but before anything can even come out he’s opened the door, sun shining down as he ushers you out, hand going to your lower back as he steps out after you. 

The walk into town was a long one, and while you typically didn’t mind it, it felt even longer with the presence of him by your side. A tall, silent shadow right next to you, and if you stood on the right side of him he did more sun blocking than your hat ever did. You talked enough for the both of you though, and though you were sure you were annoying him with your endless babbling about the things you needed to buy and why, he was kind enough to grunt and throw in the occasional ‘yeah’ or ‘wow’ in where it seemed needed. You didn’t mind, though you were finally slowing down on the word vomit once you neared town, you found yourself instinctually moving closer to his side, wanting nothing more than to just cling on for dear life as townfolk began watching the two of you. 

You were familiar with most of them, you were an usual face having made many trips into the village since you’d been here, but something about the way some of the men stared at you was making your skin crawl. Was it because you were with Simon? Were they jealous? Or were they just being cautious because this was an Alpha they hadn’t seen before? They were used to you coming into town every now and then with John, but mostly by yourself, it was rare to see you with someone else, let alone another man. Your head pounded, and sweat began dripping down your face under the brim of your sunhat. 

Your belly cramped, a low grunt coming from your chest as it did and suddenly, you have a revelation. 

Heat, heat, heat, heat. You pouted, your wolf louder in your mind. No wonder she was reacting this way to him, you thought. It was just because you were due for your heat. You felt silly for not having tracked your cycle or paid attention to the dates well enough to realize it was time. Pups! Oh he could fill us with his litter! I bet his cock is nice and fat, get us nice and full! Your cheeks flushed as you tried to decipher the difference between your thoughts and hers, unsure of who thought what at that moment. 

“Okay there?” He asks, bumping your shoulder with his elbow. 

You look up and he’s already staring at you, eyes drawn tight under that damn mask. How was he not hot? “Just fine.” You smile, looking at him. “I have a few things to grab at the market..it’s just the next street over, can we go there first?”

He follows you silently, if he’s not right next to you, he’s trailing behind and in all honesty his strong, silent presence makes you feel safe and comfortable, at ease. You know you don’t have to watch your surroundings constantly while you’re out, he’s an Alpha, his natural instinct is to protect and he seems to do it just oh so naturally, holding his arm out to stop you when you’re about to cross a busy street, holding your hand gently once he deems it safe enough, ushering you to the part of the sidewalk farthest from the bustling street, his body shielding you if something were to happen..

He opened the doors of the market for you, got you a little buggy and though you insisted on pushing it, he refused, keeping your cute little purse safe in the childs seat once you had set it down. Simon followed along the aisles, watching you pout down at your little list and then stare up at the shelves, your frown deepening when they didn’t have a certain item and you had to settle for an alternative. You didn’t see his fists clenching around the mental handle of the buggy as he watched you, didn’t hear the internal battle he was having with his wolf about leveling the entire store because you were unhappy at their lack of a certain product. 

It was when you were waiting in line for the butcher that he finally spoke again. You just wanted some chicken cutlets, and a couple of good steaks but your body seemingly had other ideas. Your heat was coming strong and fast, evident in the way that you whimper and nearly double over out of nowhere, grabbing Simon’s hand as you grab your lower belly, lips puckered and eyebrow furrowed. 

“Al’righ, Rosie?” He asks softly, worried, looking down at you, his big hand is on the middle of your back, the other on your shoulder as he crouches down slightly, as if to bring himself closer to your level. He’d smelled you since about the time you had first whimpered walking through town, your scent making his mouth water more than it normally did, his wolf trying harder and harder to take control of him, now that you were clearly in pain though, his wolf was whining, crying for him to do something and he couldn’t just ignore it. You nod meekly, trying to suppress a sniffle, to discreetly wipe away the tears welling in your eyes. “No, you’re not.” His voice is gruff, and he cringes as it reaches his own ears. “Wots wrong, lovie?” He asks, gentler this time, quieter. 

You look up at him, lips quivering and eyes watery and his body just wants to sag. Fix it, fix it, fix it, fix it, she’s sad, she’s sad i dont like it! What’s wrong with you? Why are you letting her be sad? Why is she in pain? If he could tell himself to shut up and it actually work, he would have, but dammit the beast was right. Why wasn’t he fixing it? 

“Heat..” 

It was whispered, but it was all he needed. “Okay, lovie, lets get the rest of the groceries and get you home.” Home. Not just his boss’s cabin. Home. A meek nod in response. He tucks you into his side, dropping his big beefy arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side tightly as he gives a long hard glare to the staring Beta’s and Alpha’s lingering around, even the one behind the meat counter. Your face is buried in his rib cage, just under his armpit as you breathe in his scent to calm yourself down, but also to protect yourself from the stares of the other people. Other unmated omegas, even some of the mated ones staring you down as you burrowed into the side of the giant man, your scent marking the whole store. Why wouldn’t they stare? You were the stupid one who couldn’t keep track of your own cycles. 

Simon does the rest of the shopping for you, slapping your list down onto the meat counter as he glares at the butcher, tells the man to make it snappy. “Need t’get this one ‘ome.” He says, his arm still wrapped tightly around your body, his voice just as tight as his grip as he talks to the grocers. You’re still clinging to his side, now shaking as the pain is coming quicker and quicker, when he makes it to the check out. He’s polite as he can be when you squeeze his hand, pouting at his gruff words and demands to hurry as he unloads the buggy, hands the cashier a wad of cash from his wallet while the bag boy works as fast as he can. 

You can barely fathom the walk back home, can barely stand on your own two feet as the light of day shines down on you when Simon helps you step out onto the street some more. He’s kind enough to think ahead, hails a taxi that the town is just barely big enough to justify having and ushers you in, giving gruff instructions to the driver as he plops down into the seat next to you, grocery bags at your feet as you curl into his side. 

“S’alright, Lovie,” He murmurs into our hair, hand rubbing up and down your bicep soothingly as you whimper again. “Get you home and into a hot bath in no time, okay? Get your nest all built up for you..”

This was going to be a long, long week. 

taglist:

@wise-owl

[microtheory]

If the Nuremberg Laws were Applied…

-Noam Chomsky

Delivered around 1990

If the Nuremberg laws were applied, then every post-war American president would have been hanged. By violation of the Nuremberg laws I mean the same kind of crimes for which people were hanged in Nuremberg. And Nuremberg means Nuremberg and Tokyo. So first of all you’ve got to think back as to what people were hanged for at Nuremberg and Tokyo. And once you think back, the question doesn’t even require a moment’s waste of time. For example, one general at the Tokyo trials, which were the worst, General Yamashita, was hanged on the grounds that troops in the Philippines, which were technically under his command (though it was so late in the war that he had no contact with them — it was the very end of the war and there were some troops running around the Philippines who he had no contact with), had carried out atrocities, so he was hanged. Well, try that one out and you’ve already wiped out everybody.

But getting closer to the sort of core of the Nuremberg-Tokyo tribunals, in Truman’s case at the Tokyo tribunal, there was one authentic, independent Asian justice, an Indian, who was also the one person in the court who had any background in international law [Radhabinod Pal], and he dissented from the whole judgment, dissented from the whole thing. He wrote a very interesting and important dissent, seven hundred pages — you can find it in the Harvard Law Library, that’s where I found it, maybe somewhere else, and it’s interesting reading. He goes through the trial record and shows, I think pretty convincingly, it was pretty farcical. He ends up by saying something like this: if there is any crime in the Pacific theater that compares with the crimes of the Nazis, for which they’re being hanged at Nuremberg, it was the dropping of the two atom bombs. And he says nothing of that sort can be attributed to the present accused. Well, that’s a plausible argument, I think, if you look at the background. Truman proceeded to organize a major counter-insurgency campaign in Greece which killed off about one hundred and sixty thousand people, sixty thousand refugees, another sixty thousand or so people tortured, political system dismantled, right-wing regime. American corporations came in and took it over. I think that’s a crime under Nuremberg.

Well, what about Eisenhower? You could argue over whether his overthrow of the government of Guatemala was a crime. There was a CIA-backed army, which went in under U.S. threats and bombing and so on to undermine that capitalist democracy. I think that’s a crime. The invasion of Lebanon in 1958, I don’t know, you could argue. A lot of people were killed. The overthrow of the government of Iran is another one — through a CIA-backed coup. But Guatemala suffices for Eisenhower and there’s plenty more.

Kennedy is easy. The invasion of Cuba was outright aggression. Eisenhower planned it, incidentally, so he was involved in a conspiracy to invade another country, which we can add to his score. After the invasion of Cuba, Kennedy launched a huge terrorist campaign against Cuba, which was very serious. No joke. Bombardment of industrial installations with killing of plenty of people, bombing hotels, sinking fishing boats, sabotage. Later, under Nixon, it even went as far as poisoning livestock and so on. Big affair. And then came Vietnam; he invaded Vietnam. He invaded South Vietnam in 1962. He sent the U.S. Air Force to start bombing. Okay. We took care of Kennedy.

Johnson is trivial. The Indochina war alone, forget the invasion of the Dominican Republic, was a major war crime.

Nixon the same. Nixon invaded Cambodia. The Nixon-Kissinger bombing of Cambodia in the early ’70’s was not all that different from the Khmer Rouge atrocities, in scale somewhat less, but not much less. Same was true in Laos. I could go on case after case with them, that’s easy.

Ford was only there for a very short time so he didn’t have time for a lot of crimes, but he managed one major one. He supported the Indonesian invasion of East Timor, which was near genocidal. I mean, it makes Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait look like a tea party. That was supported decisively by the United States, both the diplmatic and the necessary military support came primarily from the United States. This was picked up under Carter.

Carter was the least violent of American presidents but he did things which I think would certainly fall under Nuremberg provisions. As the Indonesian atrocities increased to a level of really near-genocide, the U.S. aid under Carter increased. It reached a peak in 1978 as the atrocities peaked. So we took care of Carter, even forgetting other things.

Reagan. It’s not a question. I mean, the stuff in Central America alone suffices. Support for the Israeli invasion of Lebanon also makes Saddam Hussein look pretty mild in terms of casualties and destruction. That suffices.

Bush. Well, need we talk on? In fact, in the Reagan period there’s even an International Court of Justice decision on what they call the “unlawful use of force” for which Reagan and Bush were condemned. I mean, you could argue about some of these people, but I think you could make a pretty strong case if you look at the Nuremberg decisions, Nuremberg and Tokyo, and you ask what people were condemned for. I think American presidents are well within the range.

Also, bear in mind, people ought to be pretty critical about the Nuremberg principles. I don’t mean to suggest they’re some kind of model of probity or anything. For one thing, they were ex post facto. These were determined to be crimes by the victors after they had won. Now, that already raises questions. In the case of the American presidents, they weren’t ex post facto. Furthermore, you have to ask yourself what was called a “war crime”? How did they decide what was a war crime at Nuremberg and Tokyo? And the answer is pretty simple. and not very pleasant. There was a criterion. Kind of like an operational criterion. If the enemy had done it and couldn’t show that we had done it, then it was a war crime. So like bombing of urban concentrations was not considered a war crime because we had done more of it than the Germans and the Japanese. So that wasn’t a war crime. You want to turn Tokyo into rubble? So much rubble you can’t even drop an atom bomb there because nobody will see anything if you do, which is the real reason they didn’t bomb Tokyo. That’s not a war crime because we did it. Bombing Dresden is not a war crime. We did it. German Admiral Gernetz — when he was brought to trial (he was a submarine commander or something) for sinking merchant vessels or whatever he did — he called as a defense witness American Admiral Nimitz who testified that the U.S. had done pretty much the same thing, so he was off, he didn’t get tried. And in fact if you run through the whole record, it turns out a war crime is any war crime that you can condemn them for but they can’t condemn us for. Well, you know, that raises some questions.

I should say, actually, that this, interestingly, is said pretty openly by the people involved and it’s regarded as a moral position. The chief prosecutor at Nuremberg was Telford Taylor. You know, a decent man. He wrote a book called Nuremberg and Vietnam. And in it he tries to consider whether there are crimes in Vietnam that fall under the Nuremberg principles. Predictably, he says not. But it’s interesting to see how he spells out the Nuremberg principles.

They’re just the way I said. In fact, I’m taking it from him, but he doesn’t regard that as a criticism. He says, well, that’s the way we did it, and should have done it that way. There’s an article on this in The Yale Law Journal [“Review Symposium: War Crimes, the Rule of Force in International Affairs,” The Yale Law Journal, Vol. 80, #7, June 1971] which is reprinted in a book [Chapter 3 of Chomsky’s For Reasons of State (Pantheon, 1973)] if you’re interested.

I think one ought to raise many questions about the Nuremberg tribunal, and especially the Tokyo tribunal. The Tokyo tribunal was in many ways farcical. The people condemned at Tokyo had done things for which plenty of people on the other side could be condemned. Furthermore, just as in the case of Saddam Hussein, many of their worst atrocities the U.S. didn’t care about. Like some of the worst atrocities of the Japanese were in the late ’30s, but the U.S. didn’t especially care about that. What the U.S. cared about was that Japan was moving to close off the China market. That was no good. But not the slaughter of a couple of hundred thousand people or whatever they did in Nanking. That’s not a big deal.

[p0orbaby]

In Vino Veritas

summary: you’re drunk, aitana is missing and whose house is this?

warnings: alcohol

a/n: this is cute, and it’s made me want to write for tana more

word count: 2.5k

-

The music pulses around the house, loud and relentless, like it has a personal vendetta against silence, and you feel it vibrating through your bones. It’s some mainstream electronic track, too cheerful for the kind of reflective mood tequila usually grants you. Everything around you is a little hazy, a bit too bright, and you’re squinting at it all, like you’re looking at the world through frosted glass.

The wallpaper here is too clean, too deliberately “vintage,” with little pink roses blooming in neat, identical rows. You imagine, briefly, peeling the wallpaper back, layer by layer, finding more roses, more decades of them, stacked on top of each other like memories no one wants to talk about. But that’s a thought for another time, another you, one not stumbling over someone’s overly expensive thrifter rug and nearly tripping on a pair of boots discarded in the hallway.

Where the hell is Aitana?

It’s around the fifth time you’ve drunkenly circled the house when you spot Sunglasses Guy, a figure that almost feels like a test placed here by some malevolent spirit—an obstacle on your journey. He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like he’s in a photoshoot, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Indoors, sunglasses on, even though it’s dark outside. He’s got that air of self-importance, like he’s convinced that sunglasses are mysterious, that people look at him and think, Wow, who’s that? In reality, they’re thinking, Why is this guy wearing sunglasses in the dark?

He nods at you, a slow, deliberate motion, clearly trying to make you feel “seen” in some profound way, as if this is a moment the two of you will remember forever. But all you remember is your drink, the way it sloshes precariously as you shift your weight, and the way he leans in, smelling faintly of something vaguely woody and way too expensive.

“Do you know what NFTs are?” he asks, his voice low, a little sultry, like he thinks NFTs are the new “what’s your sign?”

You stare at him, and the words that spring to mind are “sunglasses,” “pretentious,” and, inexplicably, “parsley.” You’ve no idea where “parsley” came from, but your mind clings to it like smoke on cotton. “NFTs,” you repeat, as though it’s the punchline to a joke he hasn’t told. He takes this as an invitation to launch into what sounds like a memorised TED Talk, and you wonder, briefly, if you could just interrupt him by throwing your drink on his shoes.

“Aitana!” you yell instead, desperate, cutting him off mid-monologue, which he handles with a slightly indignant flick of his eyebrow.

“Where’s my girlfriend? Have you seen her?”

The phrase my girlfriend makes you beam internally. There’s a glow that forms when you think of her, a warmth that starts in your chest and blooms outward. She is, after all, the reason you’re here. The reason you even pretend to tolerate these kinds of social gatherings, with their sunglasses indoors and their endless monologues about digital assets.

He blinks, trying to recover from the abrupt derailment. “Uh, blockchain—”

“Ugh,” you mutter, interrupting again, giving him a very distinct dismissive wave, the kind of wave that says Please stop talking or I will find a way to escape this dimension entirely.

A girl nearby spills beer on your shoes. She mumbles an apology, not that you’re in a state to care; you brush it off. Aitana is the focus, the centre. Shoes don’t matter when you’re looking for someone who does.

Then, finally—finally—you see her. She’s leaning against the far wall, her posture so casual, like she’s posed there on purpose, like she’s an ad for the kind of life you’re pretty sure only exists in those short films that play before foreign films at independent cinemas. She’s listening intently to some guy in an aggressively patterned shirt, nodding along like he’s actually saying something worthwhile, and you can’t help but marvel at the patience it takes to look interested when you’re not.

“Oh my god, she’s so beautiful.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, but it comes out loud enough that a girl nearby laughs. You’re only mildly mortified; who cares? Aitana has just noticed you across the room, and now she’s looking at you with that expression, the one that melts your insides, that says, There you are.

You start walking toward her, though “walking” might be generous. It’s more of a determined stumble, like a baby deer on its first attempt at standing. Your brain registers that you’re approaching her, but your legs aren’t quite sure if they’re fully on board. At some point, you even have to pause and grab a nearby chair for balance, flashing a sheepish grin at a couple nearby who look half-amused, half-concerned.

“Aitanaaaa,” you call, drawing her name out like you’re serenading her. She’s already moving toward you, though, weaving gracefully through the crowd like it’s easy, natural. You think, Of course she’d come to me. Of course she’d know that I need rescuing.

“Hi, cariño,” she says softly, her voice lilting with that soft Spanish accent that, even now, sends a thrill up your spine. And it’s so gentle, so warm, like she’s wrapping you up in some invisible blanket. You lean into it, the warmth, her presence, like a moth to a flame.

“You’re so pretty,” you blurt out, your words tumbling over each other in their eagerness. “Like, stupid pretty. Like, why are you even with me?” Your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the two of you are sharing a secret in a room filled with strangers. “I’m a disaster. I can’t even find the toilet in this place”

She laughs, this soft, lilting sound that feels like honey, thick and golden, spreading warmth from your chest to your fingertips. Her hand settles on your shoulder, steadying you, pulling you closer, and you realise how desperately you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and just exist there, where things are quiet, soft. She smells faintly floral, and you realise it’s that same perfume she always wears, the one you borrowed once and promptly drenched yourself in until she told you, with a smile, that subtlety might work better.

“Why am I with you?” she echoes, the question hanging there between you, laced with a smile, with that familiar mischief. “Because I love you. And because you’re funny. And because you make my life interesting”

“Interesting?” You narrow your eyes, leaning back slightly, pretending to be offended. “I thought I made your life amazing. Like, top-tier, VIP-section amazing.” You’re about to launch into a whole speech, but your brain hiccups, lost somewhere in a thought that doesn’t quite finish. You grin at her instead, and she just shakes her head, amused.

She grins, and it’s that cheeky, self-assured grin that makes you both melt and want to argue. “That too”

It’s at this moment, this little pause, that you get an idea. It’s not necessarily a good idea, but it’s there, persistent, because your tequila-fuelled brain won’t let it go. “If you were a sandwich,” you say seriously, “you’d be the kind with all the best fillings. Like, avocado and caramelised onions and, like, artisanal cheese. And I’d eat you every day and never get bored”

She laughs, that infectious, melodic sound, and you feel a swell of pride that you can make her laugh like that, even in your current state. Her eyes soften, that look of adoration flickering there, just for you, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair off your face. Her fingers are warm, soft, and your eyes flutter closed for a moment as they linger on your cheek.

“Come on, let’s get you some water,” she murmurs, her voice gentle as she takes your hand in hers, and there’s a comfort in that touch, in the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

As she guides you through the crowd, you find yourself staring at her hand in yours, marvelling at how naturally it fits, how perfect it feels, as though it’s always meant to be there. The thought makes you feel almost childlike in its simplicity, but you hold onto it.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you say as Aitana threads you through a crowd that’s moving with the sludgy, undulating rhythm of a creature with too many limbs. Faces pass by in flashes of laughing mouths and narrowed eyes, pupils blown wide by God knows what, maybe tequila, maybe… more. None of them matter, though. They’re simply the backdrop to this little tableau: you, lit up and fizzing, tethered to the only person in the world who’d think to take your hand and lead you to salvation (water) instead of just letting you unravel on the sticky floor of someone’s overpriced house.

She looks at you like you’re amusing, like she’s doing you this great favour by holding your hand in public. “I know,” she says, her mouth quirking in that way that makes your chest feel both hollow and unbearably full.

And then you stop—there’s an odd elegance to it, almost like a dance, because she half-turns, looking back at you as if she knew this was coming. Like she’s been expecting you to stop her and do something wild, something foolish. The patience in her eyes, well, it almost feels like she’s giving you permission to make an idiot of yourself. Again.

“I want to kiss you,” you announce, dead serious, as if declaring something truly revolutionary.

“We’re in the middle of a strangers house.” She says this lightly, but she’s already leaning in, her chin tilting, the light catching in her hair just so, like it’s the climax of some impossibly chic music video.

You want to tell her that kissing her here, now, with people everywhere and the taste of cheap tequila in your mouth, is the single most important thing in the world. That nothing in this moment matters, except her—your Aitana, who has somehow, against all reason and logic, decided to love you back.

So, when she presses her mouth to yours, soft, barely-there, like you’re made of fine china, you think you might just melt into the floor. The crowd around you recedes; they fade away, just shadows in the periphery, and it’s as if you and Aitana are standing in a bubble, suspended in time. You’re floating, really, an ethereal, drunk ghost of yourself. She’s kissed you like this a thousand times, but right now, it feels so outrageously perfect that you think, absurdly, that maybe you don’t deserve it. Like you’ve somehow won this cosmic lottery.

When she pulls back, you’re vaguely aware that your mouth is still open, probably looking ridiculous, but she’s smiling at you, all fondness and amusement, as if to say, “Yes, you’re a total disaster, but you’re my disaster.” It’s a little terrifying, if you think about it too long.

“See? This is why you’re the best,” you mumble, clutching her a little tighter, almost swaying in place.

She tilts her head, giving you this look that’s so completely Aitana, so fully her, it borders on cliché. “You’re a mess,” she says, but her eyes are bright, shimmering with something almost mischievous.

You shrug, proud, defiant. “I’m your mess”

“Yes,” she agrees, not even trying to hide her smile, “you are”

And with that, she’s tugging you along, moving with a fluidity that makes you wonder, briefly, if she’s choreographed this entire evening just for you. You’re half-convinced she’s orchestrated the entire universe to align with this moment—the sounds of people talking too loud, the stickiness of the floor, the faint scent of stale beer and expensive perfume all melding into a cocktail that feels uniquely yours. Aitana, your perfect Aitana, leading you through this mire like she’s guiding you through a rainforest or a canyon, somewhere treacherous and fraught with danger.

You stumble into what you desperately hope is the kitchen, but honestly, it could just as easily be a poorly-lit hallway or an oddly-configured living room. Someone has drawn a Sharpie mustache on a framed photo of a golden retriever; the countertop is littered with crumpled napkins and red Solo cups, each one bearing the lipstick marks of strangers.

“I’m gonna drink, like, four litres of water,” you declare, full of bravado, as she hands you a slightly dented plastic cup that smells faintly of gin.

“Good idea,” she replies, crossing her arms and watching you with that expression she gets sometimes, like she’s trying to contain her fondness, keep it manageable, as if loving you too much would somehow be irresponsible. Like her heart could actually explode if she indulged herself too much.

You take a sip, but you’re not really tasting the water. No, you’re watching her, the way she brushes a loose strand of hair out of her face with her pinky, the way her eyes are this exact shade of dark that you’ve spent hours trying to name in your head. Like burnt caramel, maybe, or wet soil. It’s frustratingly poetic, the way she looks at you, like she knows every ridiculous thing you’ve ever thought and loves you for it anyway.

“Aitana,” you say, fully serious, as if you’re about to impart some life-altering wisdom. “You’re my favourite person ever”

“I know,” she replies, but there’s something so gentle in her voice that you’re pretty sure she means it as much as you do. She reaches out, smoothing a stray hair behind your ear, a little gesture, the kind that’s both tender and practical, reminding you of the time she told you to cut your nails because you scratched her during a tickling fit. Practical, pragmatic Aitana, the girl who brings you plasters when you’ve tripped up the stairs and curses in Catalan when she stubs her toe but tries to blame the wall for it.

“No, but like…you don’t understand,” you say, stumbling over your words, the alcohol making you louder and sloppier than you’d like. You lean in closer, conspiratorially, like you’re about to reveal some great cosmic secret. “I’m so in love with you. It’s, like, a problem”

She laughs softly, the sound low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. She pulls you into her arms, your head pressing against her shoulder, and you breathe her in, that familiar scent that’s all her—floral and a little musky, layered with the faintest hint of some expensive perfume you’ve never bothered to learn the name of.

“It’s not a problem,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand down your back. “It’s perfect”

And it is. Perfect, that is. You’re here, tangled up in her, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic, messy cloud of tequila and love, and it’s perfect in this fragile, unsteady way. You’re her mess, her drunken mess, and there’s something so intensely beautiful about it, you think you might actually cry.

“I’m never letting you go,” you mumble, your words muffled against her shirt, which is soft and smells like laundry detergent.

“Good,” she replies, holding you a little tighter, as if she means it more than anything. “Because I’m not going anywhere”

[olderthannetfic]

would putting a fictional character through real life awful events (something on the news, an article, famous tragedy etc) "allowed" or would that be too far?

No disrespect at all, genuine question. Was curious to how these things work

--

Allowed? By whom? The fiction police?

This is a stupid way to frame this. Big names write distasteful Two White People Fall In Love Against A Backdrop of Brown Tragedy all the fucking time. Plenty of these things are critically acclaimed and/or financially successful.

Whether you personally should make art about a real life tragedy is a personal judgment call. It's about whether it's in good taste and whether it's kind, not whether it's allowed.

A common rule of thumb is to look at how recent something is. The more recent, the more tasteless. Another is to think about how much you "own" the real life events in question. If it's lockdown, lots of us experienced that. If you personally lost someone in tragedy X, you have something of a claim on it. Another way people look at this is to ask whether the art needs to be about that tragedy and whether it's doing something productive culturally and politically for the people most related to that tragedy.

It's fine to make art about horrible things from real life.

It's usually considered pretty rude to use horrible things from real life as a disposable backdrop for relationship angst between your blorbos.

--

To pick a real example, Memories of Murder launched Bong Joon Ho to international fame. It's directly about that famous unsolved (at the time) serial killer case that like 90% of Korean crime dramas are riffing off of. The film is all about police brutality and incompetence and the emotional devastation of everyone around the case, from the survivors to the police themselves. The sexual violence isn't shown on screen.

The director commented that he was partly addressing the film to the unknown murderer, and that's why it ends with that character looking into the screen.

This film is massively influential. I'm pretty sure half of the cinematography choices in Beyond Evil are lifted directly from it. People are generally cool with it because it was grappling with something significant to Korean culture, not just doing disaster tourism elsewhere, and because it wasn't luridly obsessed with filming the actual crimes.

Other Korean dramas and films tend to fictionalize the case. Having a similar but fictional set of crimes gives them more artistic latitude and less of a responsibility to the victims.

--

The Battle of Algiers was made by an Italian guy, but nobody cares. It's an unflinching look at French brutality and is pretty clearly on the side of the Algerians even if it also humanizes the French characters and some of the bystanders getting blown up in the quest for freedom. (The director claimed it was neutral, which it is, comparatively, but...)

It's shot in a highly realistic style and does not sensationalize. Many of the actors are non professionals who lived through the real events.

The upshot is that it is considered important political art with a right to tell that story.

--

On the other hand, The Last Face faced massive criticism for being about the feeeeelings of two foreign aid workers against a backdrop of African suffering that the film didn't really engage with or seem to care about. I've only seen part of one cut of the film, but what I saw was pretty dire in a noble savage way. Some white guy was talking about how ~inspirational~ this woman was for still dancing after gruesome sexual violence. She's barely a character. She's just there so he can be inspired. It's the kind of art that gets made by outsiders with their heads up their asses.

There have been several cases of contentious fanfics with a similar premise: The OTP falls in love while helping with the disaster in [Haiti/Africa/wherever].

The key ingredients for failing and getting yelled at vs. succeeding are:

How good are your art skills? The better the art, the easier it is to get a pass.

Was the art actually about the tragedy, or is the tragedy set dressing for a story that could have happened anywhere?

Is this story that could have happened anywhere also something frivolous and fun like a romance, albeit an angsty one? The lighter the subject matter and aim of the art, the harder it is to get away with a real world tragedy setting.

Is this your tragedy? Are you processing something that happened in your community or to you personally? (For example, if you lost someone in the Pulse shooting, I'd count that as your tragedy, but if you were one of the endless whiny US queer kids flailing about it for a year while ignoring a million other tragedies that happened to older, less hot people despite living across the country and knowing none of the victims, I would not.)

--

How these things work depends heavily on the cultural forces in play. Are you from a rich country and writing insensitively about a tragedy in a poor one? x1000 if you're from a country that formerly colonized the site of the tragedy. Do you actually understand the tragedy you're writing about? Are you a good enough writer that your writing feels nuanced when you mean it to?

I really cannot emphasize this enough: the better you are at your craft, the more likely that a terrible, never-do-this idea will work just fine. I fucking love The Ice House and ship the leads despite it starting with a douchebag male cop harassing a "lesbian". The book is 1. good and 2. by a woman. The TV version stars Daniel Craig at his most subtle. On paper, this cop character should not be able to come back from such an inauspicious start, but it works. Every friend I've recced it to is like "There is no way!" and then ends up shipping it too.

The "rules" work differently if you're just that good.

No one is "allowed" or "not allowed". It's more about whether you'll upset people with a closer tie to the bad real world thing you're using...

But even then, some people will always be over-sensitive princesses who think only they have a claim on some topic when you actually have every right to it too. There will always be an outlier who finds some art offensive that everyone else from their same demographic thinks is great.

--

As a general rule of thumb, I would not use a real and recent tragedy/natural disaster/etc. as the backdrop for a fanfic about the OTP getting together. Just make up a fake earthquake or plane crash.

This is not something you must do: it's just something that tends to be in better taste.

If you're writing historical fiction about events at least 300 years old, people generally do not care what you do as long as it isn't glaringly offensive about colonialism or something.

If you're making political art about the real world, you probably need the real event in there with all its connotations and nuance.

--

Everything is allowed, anon. But can you take the heat?

[solxamber]

Crisis Averted - Cater Diamond x reader

After a royal screw up, Cater is left scrambling trying to fix his mistake before you find out. Best part? You've known what he did from the start and you think it's hilarious.

It started out as a normal day. Sun shining, birds chirping, and Cater Diamond doing what Cater Diamond does best—being charming, taking selfies, and generally vibing. But today? Today was different. Today, something bad had happened. And Cater was in full-on crisis mode trying to fix it.

The problem? He’d accidentally erased an entire folder of your saved photos. Not just any folder, either—the one with all your most treasured memories. Birthday celebrations, vacations, goofy selfies of the two of you, everything. Gone. Deleted. Kaput.

Now, to most people, that might not seem like a big deal. But Cater knew better. Those pictures? They were important to you. You loved looking through them on rough days, getting lost in nostalgia, and reliving all those sweet moments. And now? Now they were digital dust, and he was freaking out.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…” Cater muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth in his room. He tugged at his hair, his phone in one hand as he furiously scrolled through every possible "how to recover deleted photos" forum. “I am so dead…”

What Cater didn’t realize, however, was that you already knew. In fact, you’d known from the start. He wasn’t exactly subtle, and after the fifth time he started texting you, only to delete the message before you could read it, you had a pretty good idea that something was up. Honestly? It was kind of… cute. Watching him scramble to fix things like that, his usual cool and carefree attitude unraveling right before your eyes.

You decided to sit back and let the chaos unfold.

Meanwhile, Cater was in full-blown panic mode. He had no idea how you hadn’t noticed yet. He'd been avoiding you all day, coming up with the most ridiculous excuses for why he couldn’t meet up. His messages were starting to get weirder, too.

Cater: Heyyyyy, babe! Can we talk? Wait, no. Scratch that. Uhm, are you free? Like, soon?

Cater: Actually, no. Never mind. I’m busy. Super busy. The busiest. TTYL!

You stared at your phone, a smirk playing on your lips. He was so bad at this. Deciding to mess with him a little, you shot him a casual reply.

You: Sure, I’m free! Wanna hang out?

There was a solid three minutes of radio silence before Cater’s reply came in.

Cater: Haha, maybe later? I’ve got, uh… stuff. Very important unbirthday stuff.

You could practically feel the anxiety radiating through the text. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Back in his room, Cater was biting his nails, sweat beading on his forehead. “Okay, okay, okay. Gotta fix this, gotta fix this now,” he whispered to himself, pacing like a madman. He quickly uses split card, and suddenly, there were three Cater Diamonds standing in front of him, all looking equally panicked.

“Alright, team,” the original Cater said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve got a mission. We need to recover those photos before they notice anything.”

One of the clones raised an eyebrow. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know!” Cater wailed. “That’s why we’re brainstorming!”

The clones exchanged a look before launching into a ridiculous plan. Clone One suggested hacking into your cloud account, while Clone Two thought maybe bribing one of your friends for a copy of the pictures might work. Neither idea was particularly realistic, but desperation was a powerful motivator.

“Alright, alright, calm down, me,” Cater said, rubbing his temples. “Let’s start with trying to recover the deleted files. If that doesn’t work, then we’ll… we’ll figure something out.”

The next few hours were a blur of Cater running around, trying every possible recovery trick in the book. He even roped his clones into checking your laptop, your external hard drives, and even the trash bin on your phone, all while sending you increasingly bizarre texts to keep you from getting suspicious.

Cater: Sooooo, what are you up to today? Got any fun plans? Not that I’m prying! Just curious!

You: Just chilling. You?

Cater: Oh, you know, vibing. Totally normal day here. Nothing weird happening.

You: Uh-huh. Sure.

By this point, you were just waiting for him to crack. And when he started sending his clones to “casually” check in on you—one pretending to drop by for a “totally innocent, nothing-to-see-here” visit—you had to bite back laughter.

The first clone showed up at your door, grinning nervously. “Hey! Just thought I’d swing by and say hi. You’re not, like, working on anything super important, are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not really. Why?”

The clone scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting around. “No reason! Just checking! Everything’s fine! Great! Haha, okay, bye!”

And he was gone just as quickly as he’d appeared.

You leaned back in your chair, shaking your head. Poor Cater was really losing it. And you… well, you were having the time of your life watching him squirm.

Finally, after what must’ve been hours of frantic searching, Cater hit his breaking point. All of his clones were gone, exhausted from their efforts, and he was alone in his room, slumped over his desk, completely defeated.

“I’m doomed,” he muttered to himself, face in his hands. “They’re going to hate me. I’ve ruined everything…”

That was your cue. You figured you’d let him off the hook before he spiraled into a full-on meltdown. Casually, you made your way over to his room and knocked on the door.

“Cater? You in there?”

There was a long pause, and then the door slowly creaked open. Cater peeked out, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Oh, hey…” His voice was weak, his usual enthusiasm completely drained.

You smiled softly, stepping inside. “You okay?”

He let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. Actually, no, I’m really not okay. I screwed up, and I didn’t know how to fix it, and now you’re going to be so mad at me, and I just—”

“Cater,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “I already know.”

He froze, eyes wide. “You… what?”

You chuckled. “I knew the second you started acting weird. You accidentally deleted my photos, right?”

Cater stared at you, completely dumbfounded. “You knew?”

“Yup,” you said, grinning. “And honestly? Watching you try to fix it has been hilarious.”

He gaped at you, his face a mix of relief, confusion, and a tiny bit of betrayal. “You… you knew? And you didn’t stop me?!” He whines "You're so, so mean!"

You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I thought it was kind of cute. Plus, I backed up the photos ages ago, so it’s not a big deal.”

Cater sagged against you, all the tension draining from his body. “Oh my Seven… I thought I was going to die from stress.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not off the hook, though. You still owe me for all the chaos you put me through today.”

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. “Fair. Totally fair. But… thanks. For not being mad.”

“Who could be mad at you?” you teased. “You were way too entertaining.”

Cater finally pulled back, his usual grin returning, though there was still a hint of sheepishness in his eyes. “Well, I guess if you enjoyed the show, then it wasn’t a total disaster.”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Diamond.”

He flashed you a wink, back to his old self again. “Oh, I know I am.”

And just like that, the crisis was averted.

Masterlist

[girlgenius1111]

might just love you 'til the end

post... that match. a bit of angst, mostly fluff. alexia is not pleased after her performance against chelsea. you aren't quite sure what she needs from you. you decide to give her space, but that isn't really what she needs. alexia tells you... eventually.

-------

It was a long day, a tiring and difficult match, and Alexia probably would have resorted to one of her coping mechanisms, if she hadn’t missed that last shot on goal. It seemed to take something out of her, and even from your place sitting on the bench, you could see how angry she was acting. Underneath that, though, you could tell that she was really just disappointed in herself. 

Watching her blink back tears as she made her way around the pitch was almost too much for you. You wanted nothing more than to grab her hand, pull her into the tunnel, and hug her until she wasn’t sad anymore. You knew better than to try to comfort her now, though. Alexia hated nothing more than seeming weak, especially in front of the team. Anything she needed or wanted from you would have to wait until you both got home. And even then, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sometimes she’d just shut down after a bad game, go to sleep, and wake up with a new passion the next morning. Sometimes she’d shut down, but her fury at herself would linger for days. Very rarely did she talk about it. Only when she really reached her breaking point, which was admittedly a lot harder to reach than other people’s were, would she let you make her feel better.  

It wasn’t necessarily a healthy array of options that she normally went with, but you couldn’t argue that it didn’t work. It worked for Alexia, and that was what was important. Even if giving her space until she asked for something else hurt, you knew it was what she needed. 

She acted pretty much how you expected her to as you both made your way into the locker room and headed for the showers. The blonde gave you nothing more than a high five and a weak smile, before she launched herself into her post match routine. You did the same, icing various parts of your body that hurt after a rather physical game. You kept your eyes on your girlfriend, though, watching the hollow way she brushed through her hair and the mechanical way she laced up her shoes. You were done before her, sitting in your locker looking at your phone, trying to figure out how bad the social media situation was going to be for her, when her white nikes appeared in front of you. You looked up at her with a smile, though it fell slightly when you took in the completely emotionless look on her face. She’d shut down, then, like you’d expected her to. You knew it was coming, but it didn’t make it easier that she wouldn’t let you help.

“¿Lista?” She asked roughly, not meeting your eyes. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” You replied, getting to your feet, grabbing your bag, and giving Mapi a reassuring look from where she sat waiting for Ingrid to be ready to go. You knew your girlfriend’s best friend worried about her, and that she had tried to talk to her after the match, but it hadn’t really gone anywhere. You were surprised when, as soon as you were out of the locker room and had walked a ways down the hall, Alexia dropped her bag to the ground and pulled you into a tight hug. 

You returned the hug, sighing into her shoulder, feeling her bury her face in your slightly damp hair. The hug was for you, you could tell. To make you feel better, even when Alexia wouldn’t allow you to do anything to make her feel better. She held herself a bit tensely, and when she pulled away, her eyes searched yours, her worry clear on her face. 

“Te amo,” she whispered, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “I am proud of you, always.” 

“I love you, Ale,” you replied, a thousand more words on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to tell her you were proud of her, too, that it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t need to deal with today all by herself, but you knew she wouldn’t accept it right now. Instead, you grabbed her hand in yours and squeezed tightly. 

The captain kept her hand in yours as you both walked to her car, and though you expected her to pull away from the contact, you were glad that she was letting herself have something to make herself feel better. The car ride home was silent, and you predicted the rest of the night to be the same.

------

You knew to let Alexia deal with it how she dealt with it, but you did put your foot down on a couple things. When she headed right for the couch, going to put the match replay on the TV and take notes, you shook your head, taking the remote out of her hand. 

“Not tonight. It won’t make you feel better.” 

“I have to watch,” she argued, but you cut her off. 

“You can watch tomorrow. Tonight we are going to watch a movie, order dinner, and go to bed early.” 

“Amor,” Alexia sighed, her brow furrowed, no doubt thinking about how she could convince you to let her do this. 

You switched tactics, knowing there was one sure way to get your girlfriend to agree with you. “Please? For me? I don’t want to watch that again right now.” 

The blonde softened, nodding her head at you. Satisfied, you flopped down on the couch next to her, grabbing her arm and draping it over your shoulder. 

Alexia smiled despite herself, leaving a soft kiss on the top of your head. She was still practically silent as you picked out a movie, but she pulled you close to her, slipping her hand up the front of your shirt and  running her thumb back and forth across your skin. 

Even if she was only letting this happen because she thought she was comforting you, it was still better than nothing. Better than the rare occasions that she’d sleep on the couch, almost as a punishment for herself when she didn’t perform the way she thought she should’ve. The blonde had gotten better since getting together with you, mostly because you pointed out the inconsistencies in how she treated you after a rough game, and how she treated herself. Some rough days sent her spiraling back to her bad habits, though, and you were glad you could pull her away from those, at least for today.

-------

“Cariño,” Alexia whispered, jostling you slightly. “Let’s go to bed, vale?” 

“Hmm?” You mumbled, barely opening your eyes. “‘M not asleep.” 

“Oh, sure. You are just watching the movie with your eyes closed?” 

“Sí,” you sighed, turning against her slightly until your head was laid on her chest. It vibrated under you as she laughed, and the sound woke you a bit more, glad to hear something even remotely joyful come out of your girlfriend’s mouth. 

“Venga, amor, it is time for bed.” She insisted, gently sitting up and easing you into an upright position. You pouted at her, wishing the smile on her face would reach her eyes. When it didn’t, you rose from the couch, grabbing Alexia’s hand, and pulling her towards the bedroom. 

You both made quick work of your nighttime routines, and you were glad to slide into the bed, undeniably exhausted from the physically and emotionally draining day. Alexia slipped in next to you, though she didn’t really get comfortable; she remained halfway sat up, staring at the ceiling above her. You tucked yourself into her side, burrowing under the covers until you were surrounded by soft fabric and Alexia’s sweatshirt. She seemed wide awake, and you laced your fingers with her, rubbing your thumb comfortingly along the back. 

“Sleep, baby. You need rest. Everything will feel better in the morning.” Alexia nodded mechanically, giving you a half smile that you didn’t buy for a second, before her eyes fluttered shut. “I love you. You’re my favorite person.” You whispered. 

She opened her eyes again at your words, softening slightly. She turned on her side and pulled you into her chest, wrapping you up tightly in her arms. “Te amo, mi niña, eres perfecta.” She whispered. 

-------

You fell asleep easily. Alexia, evidently, had not. You realized this when you rolled over in the middle of the night, seeking out your girlfriend to curl up against, and only felt cold sheets next to you. 

It woke you up, and you opened your eyes, in your sleepy haze worried Alexia had gotten sick or something. You looked around the room, and towards the bathroom, but no lights were on. You sat up in the bed, forcing yourself to wake up more. Once you had thought about it for a minute, you had a sneaking suspicion about where your girlfriend had disappeared to in the middle of the night. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, checking Alexia’s location, and sure enough, her little profile picture was at a park a few blocks away. It had a football pitch, and Alexia sometimes slipped away there when she wanted to clear her head, but not deal with seeing people she knew at the Barça training ground. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, even though you had half a mind to call Ale’s mom and get Eli to deal with her, knowing she could scold her daughter much more effectively than you could. It was the middle of the night, though, and you knew that Alexia may need a softer approach. You weren’t really sure what headspace she’d be in when you found her, and it was at this thought that you began to move faster, pulling on joggers and a shirt, and rushing down the stairs. You could visualize what she’d be doing, taking shot after shot on goal, but you couldn’t figure out how she’d be acting. Upset, or sad, or angry, or still completely blank. You grabbed your car keys, not really wanting to waste a second longer than possible by walking to where Alexia was, although it wasn’t far. 

It only took a few minutes to arrive, and you pulled into the parking lot with your attention completely fixed on the figure across the park, running down the pitch with a ball at her feet. As you got closer, you took in how exhausted Alexia looked, as if she’d been at this for hours.

“Ale?” You called, finally arriving at the pitch and trying to get your girlfriend’s attention from the sidelines. She didn’t look over at you, too caught up in her own thoughts, trying to angle her shot in just right. 

You moved closer, and finally she saw you, just out of the corner of her eye. She stopped what she was doing, turning to face you. “Amor?” She questioned. “What are you doing here?” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her question. “Really? You’re asking me what I’m doing here?” Your girlfriend had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “It’s the middle of the night, Alexia. What are you doing?”

“I could not fall asleep.” Alexia told you, walking over to you, her ball abandoned behind her. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You asked, brushing a few pieces of flyaway hair off her forehead. She melted into your touch, her body slouching down towards you, giving you even more of an idea of how exhausted she was. 

“I wanted you to rest.” She said quietly, and it was a perfectly believable explanation, but for some reason you had a feeling that there was more to it than that. You fixed her with a look, raising one eyebrow. The blonde sighed again, grabbing your hand in hers. “Can we go home?” 

“Only if you promise to talk to me when we get there. Otherwise I’ll make you stand in goal while I shoot.” You teased, happy to see a small smile on your girlfriend’s completely drained face. 

“Promise.” She said, giving your hand a squeeze as you both began to walk towards the park exit. 

-------

You sent Alexia to shower upon arriving home, sitting on the couch until she was done, absolutely sure that if you got back in bed, you’d instantly fall back asleep. Alexia very timidly walked out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, all bundled up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants even though it was rather warm out. 

Alexia looked weirdly nervous as she sat down next to you, her eyes everywhere but on yours. She reached for your hand very hesitantly, relaxing slightly when you intertwined your fingers with hers easily. 

“What’s wrong, Ale?” You asked. 

“I am sorry about today. Really sorry, amor.” 

You opened your mouth, prepared to tell her that you forgave her for sneaking away in the middle of the night instead of waking you up, but you stopped when you looked at her closer, and found tears in her eyes. Something about the way she’d phrased it, too, that she was sorry about ‘today,’ didn’t sit right with you. 

“What are you sorry about?” You asked, frowning when Alexia chewed on her lower lip instead of answering. 

“I disappointed you today.” She said finally. 

“Alexia,” you rushed to contradict her, but she cut you off. 

“No, I know I did. I am sorry, I will do better, mi amor, I promise.” 

“Love, you did not disappoint me.” You insisted, cradling your girlfriend’s cheek and wiping away a stray tear. She shrugged, like she didn’t believe you. “You could never disappoint me, Alexia, especially not by missing a shot. Why do you think that?” 

Her eyes flicked up to yours, finding only sincerity there, as she took a deep breath, and spoke. “I told you I was proud of you.” Alexia mumbled, her cheeks flushing. “You did not say it back. And you normally give me a hug after matches in the locker room, but you did not, not until I hugged you.” 

You were sure you felt your heart crack in two. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” You said, reaching to pull her into a hug. She shrugged out of your grasp, though, and you were furious with yourself in that moment. 

“You do not need to be sorry, I understand.” She said, albeit rather miserably, looking so angry and upset with herself, when she really should have been directing that at you. 

“No, Alexia, look at me.” You insisted, gently tilting her head to look at you. She was barely holding back tears, her lip wavering sadly. “Oh, my love. I didn’t say it back because I didn’t think you’d want to hear it. You never listen after rough games, I was trying to let you have your feelings for the night, and then try to make you feel better tomorrow. I didn’t think you’d want comfort, Alexia, not today. I am so proud of you, Alexia. Every day, I am proud of you, especially today. You did everything you could do, I know that. It just wasn’t our day. Estoy tan orgullosa de ti.” You emphasized. 

Alexia nodded slowly, but you could tell she didn’t fully believe you. 

“Would you ever be disappointed with me for missing a shot?” You asked, slightly amused when the blonde whipped her head up to look at you, a frown set on her features. 

“No. Never.” Alexia said quickly, appalled at even the idea.

You smiled at her sadly. “Can you not imagine that I feel the same way about you, Ale? That I love you just as much as you love me? 

Your girlfriend swallowed roughly, reaching to pull you into her lap, and into a hug. You let her manhandle you the way she wanted, wrapping your arms around her and kissing the side of her head repeatedly once she grabbed on to you. 

“It is hard to believe sometimes. It is… too good to be true. That you love me like I love you. I do not always feel like I deserve it. Especially when I am grumpy all day after we lose, and I sneak out of our bed, and make you come find me in the middle of the night.” Alexia said, her voice dripping with insecurity. 

You pulled back just slightly, pressing your forehead to Alexia’s, threading your fingers through her hair. “You always deserve it. Always, Alexia. And I would get out of bed in the middle of the night to come find you every day if you needed me too. I’d get on a plane in the middle of the night and fly halfway across the world to find you, if that’s what you needed.” You whispered, leaning forward to press your lips to Alexia’s. 

She kissed you back, hard, trying to tell you how much everything you’d said meant to her. 

“I’d rather not, but I’d do it.” You mumbled against her mouth, feeling her smile against your own lips. 

“Okay.” She said finally, and it was clear to you that she believed you a bit more now, and that she’d believe you even more tomorrow. “I will keep my fleeing of the country to a minimum.” 

You laughed. “Good. Because I want to go to bed.” 

Alexia nodded enthusiastically, rising up off the couch with you held securely in her arms. “Me too.” 

She carried you towards the bedroom, already physically more relaxed than she’d been all day. 

“If you set an alarm for the morning, I will make you sleep at the park tomorrow night.” You told her, letting out a rather undignified squeak when she gently threw you down on the bed. 

She smiled at you mischievously, her bad day completely forgotten. How could she think about her performance when you were so perfect, and so pretty, and she was so tired.

“No alarm.” She promised, turning her light off and collapsing onto the bed next to you. It had been a mistake, not waking you up before. Because when you pulled her into you and began to scratch lightly at her back, she went completely limp, and she knew you were all she needed to fall asleep. Alexia didn’t need to practice her shots until her legs were numb. She just needed to lay her head on your chest and hear your heartbeat in her ear, and she’d remember that everything would be okay. 

------

hope you enjoyed :)

[wonryllis]

ENHYPEN REVEALING THEIR NON!IDOL S/O.

────────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽.

CONTAINS. idol!enhypen showing you GENRE. fluff, fem!reader, requested WORDCOUNT. 727 LIB?

𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 everyone knows okay everyone just does. it's in his eyes, it's in the way he speaks, it's in his body language, it's in the way he dresses, it's in the little advice and messages he leaves on weverse, it's in the pictures he posts. just everything exudes that he's a taken man desperately in love. his reveal is normal, an official announcement from the company the day after their contractual dating ban is over. appearing on a talk show after all excited to tell everyone about you to be hit by the realization that people actually did have idea just not that you are non celeb.

𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he does not give a fuck about anyone but you. would reveal it so nonchalantly like he's on a live and fans accidentally spot you moving around in the background and he's like,"oh yeah that's my girl, would y'all like to say hi?" he'd call you over and have you sit on his lap the entire time, though not showing your face he doesn't want your privacy getting taken away. you both would laugh and interact with the comments and answer fan questions like you've been public for years. talking about first impressions, who's more clingy, why you chose him yk.

𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 he's scared, not for himself but for you. baby doesn't want his baby getting those hates and threats. he takes a little safer side, writing a personal note addressing the love of his life and asking to be respected and given privacy. monitors the response and as soon as everyone seems accepting he's showing you off everywhere he can, from talking about you on lives and interviews and shows to posting little tmis on social media. fans even grow to tease him with your name challenging him to things he wouldn't otherwise do. cutesy and hot alike.

𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 he has no intentions of revealing it like until he has a baby with you or something. but poor guy is so bad at concealing his feelings like he's on a show to give advice on fans queries and there's this specific question about how do you know you love someone and hoon is just K.O. ed rambles on about how there's this internal feeling and you just know it when you look at them, they're the best in the entire world and everything. then later on panics when articles surface about it, "oh my god baby they know! they know!" and he ends up confirming the rumours.

𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 this guy can't wait to let the world know about you, his special person, his home. takes every chance he gets to reveal y'all but the manager jumps in every single time telling him it's not the 'right time' yet. he's so annoyed now, he's taking it the dispatch way. sneakily going places without cover, not necessarily to you and then when the articles are out jumping at the first opportunity to introduce his lovely partner through a message to his fans. talking about how long he's been waiting to let them know this important person and how much he loves you.

𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 my boy is soft launching it. he's posting these random ass pictures of succulents and cardigans and hairpins and lipgloss and everyone is so confused until he starts with pictures of hands that are too pretty to be his, skirts with thighs that couldn't be him and lastly a picture of him twirling around someone with the caption,"everyone meet my baby! :))" and after that he's making everyone sick with lovey dovey pictures of you everyday everywhere, twitter, instagram, weverse you name it, everywhere! fans be getting every little update of your love life.

𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 leaves little hints and tricks here and there to get the fans crazy with suspicions but at the same time not enough to expose y'all. plays at it for about a year before he gets impatient and unsatisfied with just little bits and pieces wants to upload full on vlogs about his days with you. wanting to post things like 'dance challenge with my beloved' literally has it on the tip of his mouth "i love my girlfriend," begs the company to let him reveal it and they're like we never stopped you?? so he does talking about it with fans- my girlfriend does that too! my girlfriend would love that!

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @nanabbg @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly