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nevernonline · 2 days ago

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✧.* secret love story; hjs

synopsis: the city has a way of weaving lives together, even when it feels like it's tearing them apart. joshua, the son of a powerful and conservative politician, and Y/N, a passionate artist pursuing her dream, find their paths entwined in the most unexpected way. despite their connection, their worlds could not be further apart.

paring: joshua x fem! reader.

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) , swearing (? lol ), some nsfw stuff but not in grand details.

word count: 17k

content: . non-idol idolings.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo.

The streets were alive that evening, thrumming with energy as crowds poured into the city’s arts district. The gallery’s entrance was understated, almost hidden among a row of boutique stores and cafes. Inside, warm light illuminated canvases that stretched across stark white walls. Each piece was a portal into a world of raw emotion—anger, love, despair, and hope.

Y/N stood near the back of the room, dressed simply but elegantly in a flowy black dress, her hands clasped nervously. Tonight was important; her first big showcase had attracted more guests than she expected, and among them were critics, buyers, and fellow artists. She felt both exhilarated and overwhelmed.

Joshua had no intention of being there. He wasn’t the art-gallery type. The night had started with a stiff political dinner where his father delivered a speech on preserving “traditional values.” Desperate for an escape, he wandered the streets until the flicker of light and soft murmur of voices and sounds of champagne bottles opening from the gallery caught his attention.

The moment Joshua stepped inside, he felt like he had entered a new world. The hum of conversation was softer here, the clinking of glasses muted against the depth of the paintings. One in particular stopped him in his tracks—a portrait of two figures barely touching, their faces turned away from one another, as if trying to reach across an invisible barrier.

“That one’s called Longing,” came a voice behind him.

Joshua turned to see Y/N standing there, a faint smile on her face. He noticed the paint smudges on her fingers before he registered her striking presence.

“It’s sort of haunting,” he said, almost in a whisper, his eyes returning to the painting. “There’s so much emotion in it. Like they want something they can’t have.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, intrigued. Most visitors offered polite compliments, but this stranger seemed to feel the weight of her work.

“That’s exactly it,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s about the space between people. How it can feel like a canyon, even when you’re standing right next to someone.”

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the rest of the gallery seemed to fade.

“Did you paint this?” Joshua asked.

Y/N nodded. “I did.”

“You’ve captured something… I didn’t think anyone else understood.” His voice was laced with an honesty that caught her off guard.

As Y/N and Joshua wandered deeper into the gallery, their steps fell into an unspoken rhythm. The crowd ebbed and flowed around them, but it was as if they existed in their own pocket of space, where time slowed and words felt heavier.

They stopped in front of a painting that was dominated by shades of crimson and deep blues, abstract brushstrokes that swirled and collided. The image was chaotic, almost violent, but there was a strange harmony in the madness.

“This one’s intense,” Joshua murmured, tilting his head as he tried to decipher the emotions bleeding through the canvas.

“Yeah. It’s called Collision,” Y/N said, folding her arms loosely. “It’s about how love and destruction can feel like the same thing sometimes.”

Joshua’s eyes flicked to hers. “That’s a lot to admit.”

Y/N shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Art is honesty, right? Even when it hurts.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her longer than it should have. “And did it hurt when you painted it?”

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. It wasn’t a question most people would ask. She saw something in Joshua’s expression—a quiet understanding, as if he wasn’t just asking about the painting but about her.

“It did,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “But sometimes you have to let life hurt. Otherwise, you never move past it.”

Joshua opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. Instead, he turned back to the painting, his hands sliding into his pockets.

“I get that,” he said after a moment. “I think most people spend their lives trying to avoid feeling too much. But you seem to embrace it.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. There was something disarming about the way he saw her, like he wasn’t just a passerby admiring her art but someone who wanted to understand the soul behind it.

They moved to the next piece, a softer, more intimate painting of two hands reaching for each other across a sea of golden light.

“This one’s different,” Joshua said, stepping closer. “It feels hopeful.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Seeing things that other people miss.”

Joshua chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m just looking for things I need to see.”

They lingered in front of the painting, their shoulders almost brushing. The conversation shifted, becoming lighter as they talked about their favorite colors, the books they loved, and the places they dreamed of visiting. Y/N told him about the inspiration behind her pieces—how they were often born from fleeting moments of emotion or memories she couldn’t shake. Joshua, in turn, shared small glimpses of his life, though he carefully avoided details that would reveal who he really was.

At one point, they reached a painting that was tucked into a quieter corner of the gallery. It was smaller than the others, almost an afterthought, but it drew Joshua’s attention immediately. The image was of a single, delicate flower growing through a crack in a concrete sidewalk.

“This one’s yours too?” he asked, leaning in to study the fine details.

Y/N nodded. “Resilience.”

Joshua smiled faintly. “I like it. There’s something defiant about it. Like it refuses to let the world crush it.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the depth of his observation. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the gallery melted away. The connection between them was palpable, a quiet understanding that neither of them could explain.

“You’ve got a gift,” Joshua said, his voice low.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, but she quickly deflected, unsure how to handle the intensity of his gaze. “Well, if this whole politics thing doesn’t work out for you, you’ve got a future as an art critic.”

Joshua laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Noted.”

As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin, but Joshua stayed by her side, moving from one painting to the next. Y/N found herself laughing more easily than she had in weeks, her initial nerves replaced by a sense of comfort she hadn’t expected.

By the time they reached the last piece, a large abstract mural filled with vibrant yellows and oranges, Y/N realized she didn’t want the night to end. But as she turned to Joshua, she noticed the way his smile faltered, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly.

Joshua nodded, but his eyes betrayed a storm of thoughts. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Sometimes you meet someone, and it feels like everything makes sense for a little while.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing, letting the moment stretch between them.

When they finally returned to the front of the gallery, Joshua paused at the door.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, his expression earnest. “Your work is incredible. And so are you.”

That night, as Y/N cleaned up the gallery, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just begun—something both exhilarating and dangerous. Meanwhile, Joshua walked aimlessly through the city streets, replaying their conversation in his mind, already yearning for the next time he might see her.

The days that followed their first meeting felt like a blur to Y/N. Her days were filled with painting, organizing new art shows, and dealing with the steady flow of clients who wanted to buy her work. But at night, when the city quieted and she was alone with her thoughts, all she could think about was her encounter with Joshua.

It wasn’t just his compliments or the way he seemed to understand her art so deeply. It was the unspoken connection between them—the way their conversations flowed, how easy it was to talk to him, even when they barely knew each other. She found herself replaying their last conversation in her head, especially the way he’d spoken about “making sense” in the brief moments they shared.

On the third evening after their gallery encounter, Y/N found herself standing in front of the window of her studio, staring out at the glittering skyline. It was late, past midnight, and the city hummed softly beneath the pale moonlight. She had just finished a new piece, but her mind kept returning to that last look Joshua had given her—the subtle sadness in his eyes, as if he had more to say but couldn’t.

Then, as if summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed.

It was a message from an unknown number.

“I can’t stop thinking about your work. About you. Would you like to meet again? I know a quiet spot where we can talk more.”

It took Y/N a moment to process it. The message was simple but deliberate. She didn’t even have to check the number; she already knew who it was. Joshua.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly typed a response:

“I’d like that. But how’d you get my number”

Just as quickly as she could put her phone down two quick messages pinged back.

“I have my ways. Haha.”

“Just kidding, I took one of your business cards.”

Later that night, Y/N made her way through the city streets, the cool air brushing against her skin. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but something about the idea of seeing him again felt right. It was like they were both caught in the same pull, a magnetic force neither could fully resist.

The place Joshua had mentioned was a small, dimly lit café tucked away on a side street—a hidden gem most people passed by without noticing. The sign outside read La Lune, a name that seemed to shimmer against the dark backdrop of the city.

When Y/N stepped inside, the soft scent of freshly brewed coffee, homemade spirits and pastries enveloped her. The café had a cozy, intimate feel, with small round tables lit by flickering candles. There was only one other couple in the corner, deep in conversation, leaving the rest of the space open and quiet.

Joshua was sitting near the window, a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked different from the last time she’d seen him—more relaxed, his usual guarded expression replaced by something warmer, more open. He looked up when she entered, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

“Hi,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, but she returned his smile, walking over to join him. “Hi,” she said, sitting down.

“You look different tonight,” he commented, his gaze flickering over her. There was something in his eyes that made her feel like he was seeing not just her face but the person she was, the one she usually kept hidden behind layers of quiet confidence and artistic passion.

“I could say the same about you,” Y/N replied, her voice low, almost shy. “There’s a kind of peace about you. Like you’re finally able to breathe. Maybe it’s also the jeans and the hoodie, a bit of both.”

Joshua chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “Maybe I am.” He paused, looking down at his coffee, as if unsure of how to continue. “Y/n..”

She looked at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said, his voice catching a little. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to steady his nerves. This wasn’t easy, not by any means. “I don’t want to hide from you. I don’t want you to feel like this is just some secret thing.”

She tilted her head, her gaze curious but understanding. “Joshua, you’re not making sense.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. He took a deep breath. “It’s just, the thing is, my family, my life—everything is so controlled, so planned. It’s like I’m not even my own person sometimes.”

Y/N stepped closer, her eyes softening. She knew that feeling all too well, the sense of being trapped by expectations.

Joshua’s hand clenched into a fist before he let it go, trying to calm himself. “My father. He’s a politician. A big one. He’s running for a major office, and everything about my life is about appearances. About what fits the image he wants to project. The last thing he would ever approve of is… well, us.” He paused, unsure how to say it without it sounding like an excuse. “My father’s life is a brand. And I’m just a part of that brand.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she listened. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he wrestled with the burden of his family’s expectations. It was as though every word he said about his father was another weight on his shoulders.

“But you’re not your father,” Y/N said softly, almost to herself. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch warm and steady. “You’re your own person, Joshua.”

He looked at her, his expression a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I know. But it’s hard to escape that. My dad… he doesn’t just want me to follow his path. He needs me to. Everything I do is calculated. Every relationship, every choice, every word. He has plans for me, for what he wants me to be.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice quieter now. “And that includes who I’m with.”

Y/N felt the depth of his confession like a weight on her own chest. She understood better now why he had been so reserved, why there had been that flicker of hesitation in his eyes when they first met. He wasn’t just trying to keep a secret about himself; he was trying to protect them both from a world that would never let them just be.

Joshua swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto hers. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m playing some kind of game with you. That this… what we have…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s complicated. But I can’t lie to you anymore.”

Y/N, for the first time since their first meeting, saw Joshua for who he truly was—someone who was desperately trying to hold on to a sliver of freedom in a world that demanded conformity. And yet, despite all of that, he had chosen to be with her.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m not asking you to choose, Joshua. I’m not asking you to tear apart your life or go against your father. But I want to know the truth. If this is something we’re going to do, then I want us to be honest. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

Joshua’s breath caught in his throat. He had never imagined someone could understand him like this—someone who saw the conflict within him and didn’t push him away.

“I want that too,” he whispered, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I just don’t know what it’ll mean for us. What it’ll cost.”

Y/N leaned in slightly, meeting his gaze. “But, what happens if we’re caught? What happens if the world finds out about us?”

Joshua’s eyes darkened, but there was no hesitation in his voice when he answered. “I don’t know. But I do know that right now, at this moment, none of that matters. We’re here. Together.”

And in that moment, as their gazes locked, the world outside seemed to fall away. The noise of the city, the looming pressures of their separate lives, all disappeared. There was only the soft light of the café, the shared silence between them, and the undeniable pull of something that was just beginning to blossom.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. “Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Joshua’s smile was the answer, and in that smile, she saw the promise of something neither of them could yet fully comprehend—but something they both wanted to explore.

They spent hours there, talking about everything and nothing. It wasn’t just the art anymore; it was their thoughts, their fears, their dreams. They didn’t have all the answers, but they were learning to trust each other, bit by bit.

And when the café began to empty, they stood together, reluctantly, as if the moment would stretch on forever.

As they parted outside the café, the night air was cool, but the warmth of their conversation lingered, a promise of what might come. Before parting Joshua bent down kissing her softly on her cheek before escaping around the corner to meet his driver leaving her again in silence. Bud somewhere deep inside, they both knew they had crossed an invisible line. There was no going back now.

Their third encounter wasn’t planned at all. It was late, nearing midnight, when Y/N was walking down the familiar streets near her studio. Her thoughts were still clouded with the conversation they'd shared, her heart torn between the feelings she was developing for Joshua and the practical realities of their situation. How much longer could they keep pretending that the world around them wasn’t watching?

As she passed by the park, her phone buzzed in her pocket. The message was from an unknown number again.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about our last conversation. Can we meet tonight? I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to you. Just for a while.”

It was Joshua, and though the request was simple, there was an urgency to his words that tugged at her heart.

Without a second thought, she typed back: “I’m on my way. Where should I meet you?”

A moment later, he replied: “The rooftop of the building on 7th and Broadway. I’ll be waiting.”

Y/N arrived at the address in less than ten minutes. She took the elevator to the top floor, stepping out into the cool, crisp night air. The building was tall, overlooking the city skyline with the faint hum of traffic far below. Joshua was standing near the edge, his silhouette outlined by the lights of the city, but his focus was on the stars above.

"Joshua?" she called out softly.

He turned, his face lighting up as he saw her approach. He looked different tonight—more vulnerable, his eyes were slightly red, as if he’d been awake for hours, lost in thought.

"Hey," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for coming." He stepped aside, allowing her to join him by the ledge. The cool breeze tousled his hair as he looked out over the city, his jaw tight.

Y/N could sense something was weighing heavily on him. "What’s going on, Josh?" Her voice was calm, but her heart beat a little faster, sensing the tension in the air.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I’m complicating things more than they need to be, but I can’t keep pretending. I’ve spent my entire life following orders, fitting into a role that was decided for me before I could even understand what it meant to be free. And all of that changed when I met you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned to face her. "I didn’t expect to care this much. I didn’t expect you to mean this much to me."

Y/N’s heart twisted as she listened to him, her chest aching with the weight of his words.

"Joshua," she began, her voice soft but steady, "I told you yesterday, I’m not asking you to choose between me and your family. I know it’s complicated. But I need you to be honest with me. Completely honest." She took a small step toward him, closing the distance. "What’s really going on?"

He looked at her, eyes searching hers for a moment, before his gaze fell. "My father… he’s pushing me to follow in his footsteps. To run for office. To become what he always wanted me to be—a political heir, someone who will represent his legacy. I’ve done everything for him, for years, without questioning it." He ran a shaky hand through his hair again, his frustration palpable. "And now that I’ve met you I can’t keep lying to myself. I don’t know how to balance the two, Y/N. My father’s expectations and what I feel when I’m with you. The life he’s created for me, and the life I want to build for myself."

Y/N felt the weight of his words, understanding the gravity of the decision that was looming over him. "So what does that mean for us?" Her voice cracked ever so slightly. She hated that question, but she had to ask it—because if this was something real, they couldn’t just ignore the obstacles.

Joshua looked at her, his expression one of both sorrow and determination. "It means that I’m torn, Y/N. It means that I can’t walk away from my family, no matter how much I want to. But it also means that I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want this, that I don’t want you."

For a long moment, the world felt like it stood still. The city lights shimmered below them, but the weight of their conversation filled the air between them. Y/N didn’t know what to say at first. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was going to be okay, but she didn’t know if it would be.

"You don’t have to choose right now," Y/N said finally, her voice steady but tender. "I won’t push you. But I need to know if you’re going to let me in. If you’re going to let this go somewhere."

Joshua reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. "I am. I want to. But I’m scared. If I choose this, I could lose everything. And I’m not sure I’m ready to lose it all."

Y/N squeezed his hand in return, looking up at the stars. "Then we’ll take it one step at a time. We’ll figure it out. But I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets."

Joshua’s eyes softened, a mixture of relief and apprehension in them. "I promise. No more secrets."

The night on the rooftop was heavy with unspoken emotions. The city beneath them seemed to hold its breath, the lights from the streets below flickering like distant stars. Y/N and Joshua sat closely together, wrapped in the shared weight of their conversation. The air between them was thick, but despite the tension, there was an undeniable connection—something that was only growing stronger with each passing moment.

Joshua’s hand remained in hers, a silent gesture of reassurance. He had opened up about the impossible choice between his father’s expectations and what he wanted for himself. But as they sat there, surrounded by the vastness of the night sky, he could feel the pull of both worlds, tugging at him in different directions.

Y/N, sensing the internal battle raging within him, looked at him with a soft, steady gaze. Her heart ached for him, but she knew this wasn’t just about her and him—it was about the life he had been forced to live for so long, the cage built by his family’s demands. It was a cage she couldn’t just break down for him. He had to find his way out.

"Josh," she began, her voice quiet but unwavering, "I don’t expect everything to be easy. I know there are things in your life you’re still figuring out. And I won’t pretend that it’s not complicated. But…" She paused, squeezing his hand gently, "I’m okay with us being a secret for now. I’m okay with whatever pace you need to go at."

He looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "Y/N, you don’t—"

"No," she interrupted softly, her voice firm but kind. "I know you didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for me to be a part of all this crazy ass mess." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "But I’m okay with it. I understand the pressure you’re under, the weight of your family and everything they expect from you. I know you can’t just throw all of that away, not yet. And if that means we need to keep this between us, just for a while, I’m okay with that."

Joshua stood there, struck by the calmness in her voice. The way she spoke, with such grace and understanding, made him feel both guilty and relieved at the same time. He had been so focused on what he might lose that he hadn’t considered what he could still gain. Y/N wasn’t pushing him. She wasn’t demanding him to choose between her and his family. She was simply giving him space to figure it out.

“I don’t want to drag you into something messy,” he said, his voice low. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who can be fully present with you. Not someone who has to hide, who can’t give you all of them.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes meeting him with such sincerity that it took his breath away. “I’m not asking for all of you right now. I’m asking for what you can give. And if that means a little distance, a little secrecy, I can handle that. I don’t need you to be perfect.. I just need you to be real. That’s all I want. And if it’s just us for now, at this moment, I’m okay with that.”

Her words were like a balm to his restless soul, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at him since they’d met. The weight of his father’s expectations, the pressure of his family’s desires, it had all been consuming. But here, with Y/N—this unexpected, complex, beautiful woman—he felt the possibility of something different. Something real.

Joshua’s throat tightened as he fought back the overwhelming rush of emotion. “I don’t deserve that,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Don’t say that,” Y/N replied, her voice gentle yet firm. “You don’t have to be perfect to deserve someone or something, Joshua. We all have our struggles, our burdens. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve the good things that come into our lives. I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. I just expect us to keep being honest with each other.”

The simplicity of her words struck him deep in his chest. He had been so afraid of losing everything—his family, his reputation, his future—that he hadn’t realized what was in front of him: someone who cared for him enough to give him time. Someone who wasn’t trying to force him into a corner but was willing to walk beside him, patiently, as he navigated the mess of his own life.

"You're willing to wait?" Joshua asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m willing to wait as long as it takes. But only if you’re being true to yourself. If you’re honest with me, with us. That’s the only condition. I can’t be a part of something where there’s no truth.”

Joshua took a deep breath, finally feeling the relief of not carrying this weight alone. He had spent so long living in the shadow of his family’s expectations, not daring to reach for anything of his own. But with Y/N, he could feel the space to breathe. To be himself. Even if it had to be in secret for now.

"Then I promise you, no more secrets," he said, his voice steady and determined. "I can’t promise when or how, but I’ll figure this out. I’ll do it for me… and for you."

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. “That’s all I need from you. And whatever happens, we’ll handle it together.”

For the first time since they had met, Joshua felt a spark of hope in his chest. The future was uncertain, yes, but with Y/N beside him—even if only in the quiet moments they shared in secret—he felt like he could face whatever came next.

The night stretched on, the soft wind blowing through their hair as they stood side by side on the rooftop, their hearts racing in tandem with the unspoken bond they were forming. There was no easy answer, no perfect solution to their complicated lives, but in that moment, under the stars, they both knew they were no longer alone.

The days following their rooftop conversation were a mixture of clarity and confusion. Joshua had promised to be true to himself and to her, and Y/N had given him the space to navigate his complicated life. The truth of their situation was clear—there were forces at play beyond their control, pulling them in different directions. But their bond was undeniable.

The world around them continued to churn, but in the small moments they shared, they found a sanctuary from the noise. Every secret phone call and text, every late night conversation, every touch held more meaning than any overt declaration. But as the days passed, Y/N began to feel the weight of their secret growing heavier, even if she hadn’t voiced it to him.

It was a Tuesday evening when Joshua reached out again. He hadn’t been as present the past few days, consumed by meetings with his father and the increasing pressure from his family. Y/N knew better than to demand answers right away. She had learned to let him come to her in his own time. But tonight, she felt a familiar pull—an invitation to meet, one that didn’t need to be spoken.

They agreed to meet at a quiet spot on the edge of town. The kind of place where no one would recognize them, and for a few stolen hours, they could pretend like the world wasn’t watching.

When Y/N walked in, she spotted him immediately. He was sitting at the back, his posture tense as usual, though his gaze softened when he saw her approach. As she slid into the seat opposite him, he reached out and took her hand, placing a kiss on her palm, his touch warm but reluctant, he feared she might disappear if he let go.

“I’m glad you came,” Joshua said quietly, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I needed to see you. Badly"

Y/N smiled back, though there was something in her chest that felt tight. "Of course. How’s everything going with your father?" she asked, trying to gauge where he was emotionally, where they stood.

Joshua’s smile faltered, and for the first time in days, he looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “It's really not great. The pressure’s getting worse. He’s set his sights on me running for office next year. I can't escape it, Y/N. Every conversation, every meeting, it all comes back to what he fucking wants for me, not what I want for myself."

Y/N’s heart sank. She knew how much he wanted to carve out his own path, to escape the shadow of his family’s empire. She had heard the desperation in his voice on the rooftop—he was battling not just his father’s expectations, but his own sense of who he was and what he was becoming.

"I can’t make that decision for you," she said, her voice steady. "But I do know this—you don’t have to figure it all out alone. I’m here, Joshua. I told you before that want you to be honest with me, but I also want to help you, however I can."

Joshua squeezed her hand, his eyes holding hers with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don’t know what you see in me, Y/N," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. You deserve someone who’s free to give you everything. But I can’t walk away from you. I can’t let you go."

The raw honesty in his words made Y/N’s chest tighten. She had never expected an easy journey, not with the weight of his world pressing on them both, but hearing his confession—his fears, his doubts—made her feel both helpless and resolved. She was willing to wait, to let him find his way, but it was hard, harder than she had anticipated. She wanted him to choose her, but she knew it wasn’t that simple.

"I’m not asking for all of you right now," she said softly. "I can handle that. But I can’t be invisible forever, Joshua. I need to know that when this all comes to a head, you’re choosing us."

Joshua’s eyes darkened as he heard the unspoken fear in her voice. “I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I feel like I’m suffocating in this life, in this expectation. And every time I try to make a choice for myself, for us, it feels like there’s something I’ll lose.” His hand, still holding hers, trembled slightly.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice firm. "I don’t expect you to give up everything. But I need to know that you’re willing to take the risk, Joshua. That when the time comes, you won’t let fear hold you back from what could be right in front of you."

He was silent for a long moment, lost in thought, before he spoke again, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please people, trying to be what everyone else wants me to be. But when I’m with you, I feel like I’m someone else. Someone I could be proud of. But then reality hits, and I realize how impossible it all seems."

Y/N’s heart ached. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the pull between his desire for freedom and the loyalty to a life that had been carved out for him long before he even understood the weight of it.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, Joshua,” she said gently.

Joshua’s eyes searched hers, as though trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. "Are you sure you can handle this? I’m not asking you to wait forever. I’m just asking for time."

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing over his hand, the small, tender gesture a stark contrast to the heaviness of the conversation. She could feel his fingers trembling, the silent weight of his uncertainty pressing down on them both. It was one of those moments where words felt both inadequate and necessary, where honesty, however painful, was the only thing that could bridge the distance between them.

"I’m not asking for forever, either," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her.

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze with an openness that seemed to both reassure and break her at the same time. “I’m not asking you to make any big decisions right now. All I want is for you to be true to yourself. And when the time comes—when you figure out what you really want—I’ll be ready for whatever decision you make. I just need you to be honest with me.”

Joshua’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of her words settling into his chest. He wanted to speak, to reassure her that he didn’t want to hurt her, but she pressed on, her tone still gentle, but her words cutting through the air with an edge of pain he hadn’t expected.

“But if it’s not me, let me down gently.” She paused, her lips pressing together as if the thought itself hurt too much to fully voice. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she continued, her hand still held tightly in his. “I don’t want any drama. I don’t want to fight or beg. Avoid me, ignore me, don’t contact me. Cut it off—no words needed. I can handle the silence. I just need to know that when you’re ready, when you’ve made up your mind, that you’ll walk away without dragging it out. No false hope. No lingering, no ‘maybe. Just... a clean break.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, the enormity of what she was saying sinking in. She wasn’t asking for him to promise her forever—just honesty. And in that moment, she realized how much she had come to depend on him, how much she had opened her heart to him, even if he hadn’t yet decided what to do with it.

Joshua felt his chest tighten as he listened, his heart twisting painfully. He had never heard her speak like this before—not with so much quiet strength, but also so much vulnerability. Her willingness to step back, to give him the space he needed to make his choices, was both a gift and a heart-wrenching challenge. She was preparing herself for the worst—*just in case*—and it cut him deeper than he expected. She wasn’t demanding anything of him. She wasn’t forcing him into a decision. She was just asking for his truth. And even though it broke her, she was willing to accept the reality of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N,” Joshua finally said, his voice cracking with the weight of the promise he wasn’t sure he could make. “I’ve never wanted to be the kind of man who causes pain especially after how my father treated me, but I don’t know how to give you the certainty you’re asking for. Not yet. Not until I’ve figured out what this all means.”

She squeezed his hand, a soft, understanding smile playing at her lips, though her heart ached at the uncertainty in his voice. “I know that. I know you're not trying to hurt me. And I’m not asking you to make it easy. I’m asking you to be honest. When you know, when you’re sure, I just need you to do it with respect, Joshua. To respect me enough to not leave me wondering, to not drag things out for both of us. That’s all I ask.”

There was a long pause, a silence that was heavy with the weight of their unspoken emotions. Joshua could feel the sincerity of her words, the depth of her understanding, but it only added to the guilt gnawing at him. He hadn’t made his decision yet—he wasn’t ready to. And the thought of cutting her out of his life, of hurting her, was something he couldn’t bear to think about.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of losing you. But I’m also scared that if I take this too fast, I’ll hurt you in a way I can’t undo. I don’t know what’s right, but I do know that I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s smile softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored his. She understood the weight of his fear—the fear of making the wrong choice, the fear of hurting her. But she also knew that sometimes, not making a choice was the worst thing of all.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “But you need to know that whatever decision you make, I’ll be okay. It will hurt, but I’ll be okay. And I’ll respect whatever choice you make. The way you make your decision, what I just said, let me down easy. That’s all I need from you.”

For a moment, the silence between them felt like an unspoken agreement. Y/N had laid her heart on the line—no strings attached, no demands beyond honesty. And Joshua, despite his own fear, felt a deep sense of gratitude for the space she was giving him, for the patience, even when it hurt.

As they sat there, their hands still entwined on the table between them, there was no grand declaration. There were no promises. But there was understanding.

Y/N was giving him the time he needed, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to stay in the dark forever. She had been clear: when the time came, she would let go. And as painful as it was, Joshua knew that she deserved that honesty.

“I won’t drag it out,” Joshua said quietly, the words heavy with meaning. “I promise. When I know, I’ll tell you. You deserve nothing less.”

Y/N nodded, her heart both lightened and heavy at once. “That’s all I can ask for.”

Joshua smiled, not wanting their secret rendezvous to end, “Can we go somewhere private? Just us tonight? No more parents and stress?”

Y/N’s smile deepened at the thought of giving them both an escape, a place to simply be. As much as they both craved answers, tonight wasn’t about decisions or heavy conversations—it was about being in the moment. Her heart ached for Joshua, for the burden he carried, but she also knew that moments like this—moments where they could simply exist together without outside pressures—were rare. She wasn’t sure how much longer they would have before life caught up to them again. But tonight, they were going to make it count.

“I have just the place,” Y/N replied, her voice soft yet certain, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

Joshua’s heart lifted at her words. The thought of being with her, completely alone, away from the prying eyes and expectations, filled him with relief.

Y/N stood up, reaching for her coat, the motion almost fluid. "It’s a little out of the way, but that’s the point," she explained, a teasing glint in her voice. "No distractions. Just us."

As they walked toward her car, the city seemed quieter than usual. The night was crisp, but there was an undeniable warmth in the way they moved together, side by side, as if the world beyond them could wait for just a few hours.

Joshua was still processing her words from earlier. The way she had calmly laid out her heart, vulnerable yet resolute, asking for nothing but honesty. He couldn’t help but admire her strength and grace, and yet it made him ache with the knowledge that, despite everything, he was still caught between two worlds.

But for tonight, that didn’t matter. Tonight was about creating a moment that was theirs, free from the weight of it all.

The drive took them through winding roads, the city’s lights fading as they ventured further out. Y/N didn’t say much along the way—she didn’t need to. She could tell Joshua was deep in thought his hand rested on her thigh as she pressed the gas pedal, and she was content to let him reflect.

Eventually, they arrived at a secluded cottage nestled at the edge of a wooded area. The house was small, but cozy, a soft glow spilling from the windows, suggesting warmth inside. The scent of wood and fresh air greeted them as Y/N led him to the door, pulling out a key from her pocket.

Joshua looked around, taking in the quiet surroundings. The cottage stood alone in the middle of a forested area, the trees surrounding them like old, protective sentinels. It was the perfect place to get away from everything.

“Is this your place?” Joshua asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

Y/N nodded, opening the door. "It’s my little sanctuary. I come here to clear my head, to escape when things get too overwhelming. Get inspired, all the good shit. I thought it might be nice for us to have somewhere to just be. No judgment."

As they stepped inside, the warmth wrapped around them. There was something calming about the space—dim lighting, a fire crackling softly in the hearth, and simple, comfortable furniture. The living room smelled of lavender and wood smoke, the air clean and fresh. A large window in the corner framed a peaceful view of the forest, its dark trees swaying gently in the breeze.

Y/N made her way to the kitchen area and quickly began preparing a small spread—cheese, crackers, some fruit, and a bottle of wine she’d bought earlier. “I thought we could just relax. Have something to eat, talk if we feel like it, or not. No pressure.”

Joshua couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind her gesture. There was something about the simplicity of the moment—no fancy dinner or grand gestures—just the two of them, in this quiet, serene space. He felt his shoulders relax for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He moved to her side as she set the table, gently brushing her hair from her face, his touch soft and affectionate. "This is perfect, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you for this."

She smiled at him, her eyes meeting him with a look of understanding and tenderness. "Anything for you. I also have some pajamas and extra stuff just in case, you know, you want to stay.”

As they settled into the small, cozy space with their food and drink, they spoke less, letting the comfort of being together speak for itself. The fire crackled in the background, and the only sounds were the occasional clink of a wine glass or the rustling of leaves outside. It was a soft kind of peace—a feeling neither of them had realized they were missing so deeply.

As the evening wore on, they moved to the couch by the fire. Y/N leaned her head against Joshua’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body beside hers, another opened bottle of wine resting on the coffee table. She could feel the tension slowly leave him, the constant hum of responsibility fading into the background.

Joshua draped an arm around her, pulling her closer, his voice low as he spoke. "You know, for a moment, I almost feel like everything’s going to be okay."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I’m not sure where all of this is heading, but I don’t feel as lost as I did before. Being here with you in this house which by the way I cannot believe you were holding out on me. It’s like I can breathe again.”

Her heart swelled, knowing how much those words meant to him. "You deserve to breathe, Josh. To find your way.. For tonight, for this moment, I’m happy just being here. Find some sanctuary in my sanctuary you know. The reason I didn’t show you yet is just because I wasn’t sure you’d want to come. I don’t know."

Joshua looked down at her, his eyes soft and full of unspoken gratitude. "Of course I’d want to come, I love being in nature, I don’t get much of it anymore. I don’t know how to thank you for this. For everything."

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. You’re here, with me. That’s more than enough."

And in that simple, perfect moment, they found something that transcended all the confusion, all the questions that loomed over them. It wasn’t answers they needed tonight—it was each other. They didn’t need to speak about the future or dwell on what came next. Tonight, there was just them—existing, breathing, and finding comfort in the shared silence.

The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow as the fire crackled quietly in the corner. Outside, the wind rustled the trees, but inside the cottage, it felt like time had slowed. Y/N and Joshua sat on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped around her waist, pulling her closer. There was no rush, no need to speak. The mere presence of each other felt like enough.

Y/N’s breath evened out as she relaxed further into his side, her fingers absently tracing the fabric of his shirt. The simplicity of the moment, their quiet togetherness, felt like a reprieve from the complexities of their lives. She was learning the art of just being with him—no expectations, no demands. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and warm, and it calmed her in a way nothing else could.

Joshua, for his part, had his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted as he allowed the quiet to fill the spaces where his mind had been racing just hours before. There was something about the softness of Y/N’s presence, the fact that she didn’t need anything from him but his company, that allowed him to drop the walls he often kept up. Her proximity, her stillness beside him, felt like an anchor—a place where he could feel like his old self. And for once, he didn’t feel the constant weight of his obligations pulling him in a thousand directions.

The firelight flickered across the room, casting shadows that danced on the walls, and there was an undeniable chemistry between them—a quiet, simmering tension that had been building ever since their first meeting. It wasn’t forceful. It was gentle, like the slow, inevitable pull of gravity. Neither of them spoke about it, but it was there, in the way their hands brushed together, in the way their breath seemed to sync as they sat together, their bodies unconsciously leaning closer, drawn by an invisible thread.

Joshua shifted slightly, turning his head to glance at her. His lips curved in a small, almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes were darker than usual, full of something unspoken—something that pulsed between them like a quiet storm. Y/N caught his gaze, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear.

Her fingers, still resting on his chest, curled into his shirt, her touch light but deliberate. She could feel the subtle tension in him, the way his breath caught slightly when her hand brushed over the soft skin at his collarbone. There was a pull, a magnetic force drawing them closer, but neither of them wanted to rush it. The silence between them grew thicker, more intimate, but it was safe.

Y/N felt the heat rising between them, but she stayed where she was, her head nestled against him, eyes closed, letting the moment stretch out. She didn’t want to overthink it. This wasn’t about the perfect timing or making a move—it was just about being in the moment with him, together, without needing anything else.

But then, after what felt like an eternity of quiet, Joshua’s hand moved, just a subtle shift, and before Y/N could even register it fully, his fingers gently brushed against her jaw, coaxing her to look up at him. The tenderness of his touch sent a shiver through her, and she lifted her eyes to meet him, finding the depth of something she hadn’t quite understood before—something that both scared and comforted her all at once.

His thumb lightly traced the line of her lower lip, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her mouth, as though he was trying to read her, trying to gauge whether the moment was right. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. There was no question now—they had crossed some unspoken boundary. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a heartbeat, the world outside was irrelevant. It was just the two of them, here, in this space.

“Y/N,” he murmured her name like a prayer, his voice low and raspy, filled with a need that neither of them could deny. The sound of her name on his lips felt like a promise, but it also held the weight of everything unspoken between them.

She lifted her hand to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. Her gaze softened as she studied his face, seeing the conflict there, the vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored her own. ‘Is this what we want?’ The question hung in the air, but neither of them dared to voice it. Instead, Y/N leaned in slightly, just enough to close the space between them, her breath mingling with his.

Joshua’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he felt the shift between them, the pull that neither of them could ignore. He exhaled slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, he found Y/N’s lips inches from his.

At that moment, everything else seemed to blur. There was no more thinking, no more hesitation. It wasn’t about the future, or the decisions they hadn’t yet made—it was about now. It was about feeling this connection, this undeniable chemistry, this quiet, intimate understanding between them.

He closed the distance between them then, his lips meeting hers in a soft, slow kiss—one that spoke of everything they hadn’t said, all the emotions they had buried deep inside. It was a kiss that was both tender and intense, full of quiet longing and unspoken promises. It was a kiss that asked for nothing more than the moment, the comfort, the closeness of shared space.

Y/N’s hand slid up to his neck, pulling him in closer, her body instinctively leaning into his as the kiss deepened. The heat between them grew, but it was still gentle—unhurried. It was a kiss that let them feel each other, without rushing toward anything. At that moment, they didn’t need words. They didn’t need answers.

Joshua’s hand slid from her face to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck. Y/N responded in kind, her body now in his lap, hand resting against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath as the kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. Yet, there was still a softness to it, a care, a respect for the vulnerability they were both sharing.

As they finally pulled away, breathless, their foreheads touched lightly, their breaths coming in soft gasps. The silence between them was no longer empty—it was full, rich with connection, understanding, and something deeper that neither of them had been ready to name.

“Are you okay?” Joshua asked, his voice low, his forehead still resting against hers. His hands rested gently on her waist, as if waiting for her to pull away or to say something that would break the tension.

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m more than okay,” she whispered.

Joshua’s chest tightened at her words, the weight of the unspoken between them finally easing. They didn’t need to know what came next. They didn’t need to define it. All that mattered was that, in this quiet moment, they had found something real—something beautiful and fragile, but something worth holding on to, even if only for tonight.

“I don’t want to rush it,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something tender. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “But I’m not going to lie, I don’t have enough strength right now to pull away from you.”

His words, so simple yet heavy with meaning, made her heart flutter. She nodded slowly, her fingers moving to trace the line of his jaw, her touch delicate, as if he were something fragile she didn’t want to break. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

The unspoken invitation hung in the air between them, thick with anticipation. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just looked at each other, as if silently questioning whether this moment was real, whether they could allow themselves to embrace it fully.

Joshua closed the distance between them then, his lips finding hers again, this time with more urgency, more purpose. The kiss was different now—not just tender, but hungry, as though the silence between them had been filled with all the words neither of them had said. There was an ache in it, a quiet, aching need to be closer, to erase the distance that had existed between them for far too long.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the kiss deepened. She responded with equal intensity, her hands moving to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. His hands, which had been resting on her waist, now slid to her back, pulling her even closer. The space between them evaporated as he cradled her against him, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both intimate and comforting.

Her pulse quickened as she felt the weight of him against her, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. The kiss grew more frantic, both of them caught in the whirlwind of emotions they had carefully held at bay. There were no more words, just the sensation of their lips moving together, the heat building between them.

Joshua’s hand slid down to her waist, then to the small of her back, gently urging her closer as he deepened the kiss even further. He could feel the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the way her body seemed to melt against his. Every inch of him wanted to be closer, to lose himself in the feeling of her. And yet, there was a part of him still holding back, still unsure, still afraid of what would happen once this moment ended.

But at that moment, Y/N seemed to read his hesitation. She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, her lips still tingling from the kiss. Her gaze was steady, but there was a question in her eyes—a silent invitation to continue, to let go of the fears they both carried.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice breathless but sure. “You don’t have to hold back. Not tonight.”

Joshua’s breath caught at her words, the weight of them sinking in. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes—the trust she was offering him, the understanding that whatever came next, they would navigate it together. There was no pressure. No expectations. Just the two of them, finding comfort in each other.

With a quiet exhale, Joshua nodded, his hand gently cupping her cheek as he leaned in once more, this time more slowly, more deliberately. He kissed her with a gentleness that was new, but that spoke volumes. He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was simply present, lost in the moment, in her.

Her hands slid to the collar of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as she tugged it from where it had come untucked, urging him to shed the layers between them. Joshua let her, his own hands moving to gently lift her shirt just enough to feel the soft curve of her back, the warmth of her skin. Neither of them said anything as the kiss broke, but their eyes met again—soft, full of desire, yet still respectful, still understanding.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly helped her out of her shirt, his hands moving with deliberate care, making sure every move was in sync with hers. Next unclasping the simple black bra she had placed under. They both needed this—needed to shed the layers that had kept them apart, to let their vulnerability, their need for one another, unfold in the safety of the quiet room.

Joshua pulled her closer again, feeling her body against his. There was no rush now, no need for words. The room was filled only with the sound of their breaths, the crackling of the fire, and the steady rhythm of their hearts beating in time with one another.

As their lips met once more, this time, it wasn’t just the heat of the kiss, the desire that had built between them—it was the deep, unspoken understanding that whatever came next, they were in it together. No barriers. No secrets.

Just the two of them, finally letting go.

The following morning, Y/N woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she just lay there, her eyes tracing the outline of Joshua’s figure beside her, the rise and fall of his chest a calming rhythm. She could feel his warmth, his steady presence beside her, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself forget about everything that still hung between them—his family, his obligations, the secret they both kept.

But it was all still there, quietly waiting in the shadows. Closer than either one of them knew.

Joshua stirred beside her, his hand instinctively reaching out to pull her closer, his fingers grazing over the curve of her back. He didn’t speak at first, just letting the warmth of the moment settle between them.

Joshua’s phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. The sudden interruption of their calm was a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy they had just shared. He reached for the phone, not thinking much of it at first, just expecting a message from his family or a reminder of the day’s busy schedule. But as he unlocked the screen, his heart dropped.

An email notification blinked up at him from his inbox, the sender name familiar—yet completely unexpected.

Subject: Exclusive: The Life of Joshua Hong and his Secret Love (The Untold Story)From: [email protected]

The words caught him off guard. His pulse quickened as he clicked open the email, fear prickling along his spine. The article was already live, complete with images—images that left no room for doubt. It was a professional expose, a journalist’s careful investigation into his hidden relationship with Y/N, revealing everything from the quiet, secret dates to the intimate moments they had shared in public spaces.

The headline alone felt like a betrayal, and the further he read, the worse it got. The article wasn’t just a casual mention. It was a detailed account of their time together, with quotes from “anonymous sources” and observations from people who had seen them around town, careful not to reveal their identities but piecing together a narrative that felt all too real.

Excerpt from the article:

"Joshua Hong, heir to Benet Enterprises, has been quietly involved with an undisclosed woman for several months now. Sources close to the couple say that their relationship has been marked by secrecy, with the couple often seen slipping in and out of exclusive venues. While the relationship appears to be purely romantic, the question remains: Will Hong continue to keep his personal life hidden, or is this the beginning of a much larger scandal?"

The article went on to speculate about the hidden layers of his family life, the pressure from his father to conform to a certain image, and the ramifications this secret relationship could have on both their futures.

Joshua froze, his mind reeling as his eyes flickered over the content. The carefully guarded life he had worked so hard to protect now felt like it was slipping through his fingers, exposed for the world to see. And worst of all, Y/N was wrapped up in this too, her privacy shattered by the sharp edge of a journalist’s pen.

He felt the weight of the world pressing down on him as he tried to make sense of the situation. He couldn’t help but glance at Y/N, fading back into sleep beside him, unaware of what was unfolding. She looked so peaceful, her hair splayed out across his chest, her face soft and free of worry.

But that peace was short-lived.

Joshua’s phone buzzed again, this time a call coming in. He saw the name on the screen and felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

Dad.

He inhaled sharply, still holding the phone, trying to steady his nerves. He didn’t want to wake Y/N—not like this. But he knew that the reality of their situation couldn’t stay hidden for long. His father had no doubt already read the article. The pressure of his family’s expectations would come crashing down soon enough.

“Y/N,” he whispered, gently nudging her awake. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, still groggy from sleep, but when she saw his expression, the concern in his gaze, her heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice soft but alert, her hand reaching for him as she sat up.

He handed her the phone without a word, watching as her expression changed from confusion to shock as she read the headline.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. The silence stretched between them for a moment, both of them absorbing the weight of what had just been thrust into their lives.

“I.. What the fuck?” Y/N said, her voice quiet, filled with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. She shook her head, still processing what was unfolding. “How did this happen? We were so careful…”

Joshua didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how the journalist had pieced it all together—maybe someone had seen them together in the park or overheard a conversation at the gallery. Or perhaps someone closer to his world had leaked the information, knowing that the his family was a story worth telling.

“I’m so sorry,” Joshua said, his voice tight with frustration. “I never wanted you to be dragged into this. I thought we could keep it private, at least for a little while longer.”

Y/N’s hand found his again, gripping it with quiet strength. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice steady. “It’s just... This is bigger than we thought.”

Joshua sighed heavily, looking down at the article again, but this time he saw it from a different angle. They could try to fight it, deny it, but the story was already out there. The public would talk, his father would demand answers, and the world would judge. There was no turning back.

“I need to talk to my dad,” he said quietly, standing up from the bed, his thoughts racing.

Y/N watched him with concern, but she didn’t try to stop him. She knew this was something he had to face. But she also knew that whatever happened next, things between them would never be the same. They had been living in a fragile world, hiding behind walls of secrecy. Now those walls were crumbling, and there was no escaping the fallout.

“I’ll be here,” Y/N said softly, watching him leave the room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The air was thick with tension as Joshua stood at the front of his father’s study, staring out the large window at the sprawling estate below. He had been here countless times before, but today it felt different—his father’s looming presence, the weight of his legacy hanging in the air, and the article still echoing in his mind.

The door opened behind him, and his father entered, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Well, it looks like you fucked up, Joshua. It was only a matter of time, really, I knew I couldn’t keep you away from disobeying me for long,” his father said, his tone devoid of surprise. “I didn’t expect it to come this way, but I suppose it was inevitable.”

Joshua turned slowly, meeting his father’s gaze. “I didn’t want it to come out like this. You know how important it is to me that our family stays out of the spotlight.”

His father raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room. “The world doesn’t care what you want, Joshua. They care about my name. You can’t play both sides of this game. You have to choose.”

Joshua’s stomach tightened. “I’m not asking for your approval. I’m not asking for anything. This is about me—and I’m not letting anyone control that anymore. Not even you.”

His father’s expression hardened. “You don’t understand the consequences of your actions. You think you can fucking have it all—a private life and the family business—but the truth is, Joshua, you can’t.”

Joshua stood tall, meeting his father’s gaze with the kind of determination he had never shown before. “I’m done living in your shadow. I’m done being what you want me to be.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of Joshua’s words hanging in the air.

Then his father spoke, his voice softer but still laced with authority. “You’ll learn soon enough, son. Life isn’t as simple as you think it is.”

Joshua stood face to face with his father, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The room felt colder than usual, the vast space echoing with silence and the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold.Joshua could sense the storm brewing, and it was a storm that had been building for years, slowly but surely.

The article was just the catalyst. This moment was inevitable.

“You’ve made a big fucking fool of yourself,” His dad’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. “The entire world now knows about your indiscretions. About the basic woman you’ve been hiding.” He emphasized the word woman, as though it was a crime just to care about someone outside of the image he had meticulously crafted for his son. “Do you think this is acceptable, Joshua? To air our family’s dirty laundry for the world to see?”

Joshua didn’t flinch. He’d expected his father’s anger. It was the only thing his father ever seemed capable of. Still, something within him hardened. This wasn’t the first time his father had made him feel small, but it would be the last.

“I never asked for any of this, Dad,” Joshua finally said, his voice firm but measured. There was no more backing down. “I never wanted this kind of life. You never gave me a choice. You’ve made it clear that the only thing that matters is your reputation, not my happiness.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, and the tension in the room thickened. “You think you have the luxury to choose what makes you happy? You’re the heir to my entire fortune, Joshua. This family, this company—this political legacy—is bigger than you or any of your personal whims. I’ve spent my entire life building this empire. And you—” Arthur’s voice grew venomous, “you’re jeopardizing it for a fleeting romance with someone who doesn’t give a damn about the cost of this life.”

Joshua felt the anger rising in him, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. He took a deep breath, but there was no holding back anymore.

“No. I’m not jeopardizing anything. You are,” he shot back, his voice rising now. “You’ve spent my fucking whole life telling me that the only thing that matters is business—status, money, power. And for what? So I can live a life that’s not even mine? So I can wake up every morning, knowing that I’m not allowed to make a choice for myself?” His voice cracked, frustration and emotion seeping through. “I’ve had enough.”

The elder of the two took a step toward him, his expression hardening into a mask of fury. “You think you can choose happiness over responsibility? You think you can turn your back on everything I’ve built, just for some bitch? You will regret this, Joshua. You can’t just walk away from this life. The consequences of your actions will destroy everything I’ve worked for.”

Joshua took a step forward to meet him, his chest tight with the weight of his words, but his eyes clear with resolve. “Bitch? Very mature. No, Dad. What will destroy everything is continuing down this path where nothing matters except power and control. I’ve tried to live up to your expectations, but all I’ve done is lose myself. And now I’m losing her too.”

Joshua’s dad’s eyes flickered with a flash of something—maybe disbelief, or perhaps a moment of realization. “You don’t understand. The world doesn’t give you the option to choose. People will use her to get to you. You think she’s different, but they’ll tear her apart, Joshua. She’s not the kind of woman you bring into our world.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, and the weight of his father’s words hit harder than expected. He knew his father wasn’t wrong in some ways—the world they lived in was brutal. But what he hadn’t realized until now was just how suffocating it all was. His father was trying to control him, trying to dictate not just his career, but his personal life as well.

“Maybe she isn’t the problem, Dad. Maybe it’s this life, maybe it’s you,” Joshua snapped, voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re so busy telling me how to live, telling me what’s best for me, but you’ve never once stopped to ask me what I want. I want something real, something that isn’t dictated by your empire. I want a future where I make the decisions for myself—where I’m not just living in your shadow, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Arthur’s face turned pale, his expression shifting between disbelief and fury. “You’re a fool, Joshua,” he spat, the words coming out like venom. “You’ll ruin everything. You’ll be fucking nothing without this family. Without me.”

Joshua could feel the weight of his father's words, but they no longer carried the same power they once did. He wasn’t the boy who had to apologize for his every move anymore. He wasn’t the man who had to silence his own desires for the sake of someone else’s expectations. Not anymore.

“No, sir,” Joshua’s voice was steady now, stronger than it had ever been. “I’m already something, with or without you. And I’m done letting you define who that is.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the air thick with the tension of a battle that had been simmering for years. Joshua felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the man who had been his father. He’d spent so long trying to please him, trying to be the son he thought he was supposed to be, but now it was clear: he couldn’t do it anymore.

He wasn’t going to let his father’s grip on his life define him any longer.

Turning on his heel, Joshua made his way to the door. He had made his choice. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but it was the only way forward. He stopped just before the door, his hand on the knob.

“I’m done living for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m in love with her so either you’ll have to accept that or stop fucking inserting yourself in my life.”

Without another word, he opened the door and left, not looking back.

Joshua’s heart raced as he slammed the door behind him, leaving his father’s cold, seething gaze in the past. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back now. His mind was a blur of anger, confusion, and relief, but through it all, one thought kept him moving forward.

Y/N.

He didn’t know what he expected when he stepped out of that house, but it felt like the first breath of fresh air he’d had in years. The weight of his father's influence was something Joshua had carried for far too long, and now, for the first time in his life, he could breathe without that looming pressure suffocating him.

He made his way to his car, his steps quick but purposeful. With the engine running he sent her a text asking her where she was and just to let her know he’s on his way back to her, the place he belongs. She didn’t say much back, just sending a pin to her location.

The drive to Y/N’s apartment felt like the longest of his life, the distance between them physically small but emotionally vast. With each turn of the wheels, each block closer, his pulse quickened, his thoughts consumed by her. He needed to tell her everything—the truth, his choice, what had just happened. There were no more secrets to keep.

As he parked in front of her building, the air outside felt charged with tension. He stepped out of the car, his hands shaking, but there was no turning back now. He couldn't run anymore. He’d faced his father, now it was time to face her.

He pressed the buzzer at the gate and waited for the familiar sound of her voice to come through the intercom.

“Hello?”

Her voice was soft, raspy, as if she had been crying and it took everything in him not to break at the sound of it. She had no idea what had just transpired, no idea of the storm brewing inside him. But he knew this was where he needed to be.

“It’s me, Joshua,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The gate buzzed open, and he made his way up to her apartment. Each step felt heavier than the last, but his resolve grew with every inch closer he got. As he reached her door, his hand hovered over the knob for a moment before he knocked softly.

The door opened to reveal Y/N standing there, looking every bit as beautiful as she had the night before, her eyes soft with concern slightly red from her tears, as she took in his disheveled appearance. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his hands, noticing the way he gripped the doorframe, like he needed something solid to keep him from falling apart.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice gentle yet knowing. She could see something was off, something had changed. And she didn’t need him to explain it yet. She just stepped aside, allowing him entry without pressing for more.

Joshua stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his mind still racing. He couldn’t bring himself to speak immediately. The words were lodged in his throat, heavy and sharp, but there was no turning back. He had to tell her.

“I went to see him,” Joshua finally said, his voice a little unsteady. “My father.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed with concern, her fingers reaching out to gently touch his arm. She didn’t need to ask what had happened—she already knew it couldn’t have gone well. But she didn’t rush him; she simply waited, giving him the space to find the words.

“I stood up to him,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in my fucking life, I stood up to him. I told him that I was done—done trying to be the son he wanted me to be. Done living under his control.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. She could see the weight of his words, feel the depth of the struggle he’d been carrying inside him for so long. She wanted to say something, to comfort him, but she knew better than to interrupt him when he was this vulnerable.

“I told him that I was in love with you,” Joshua continued, his eyes finding hers, his expression raw and open. “I told him that if he couldn’t accept that, then he needed to stay out of my life. I’m not living for him anymore. I’m living for me—and for us.”

The room seemed to freeze in that moment, the words hanging in the air between them. Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, her breath catching as she tried to process what he was saying. She had expected the conversation to go in a hundred different directions, but never this one. She had no idea what to say, how to respond to the sheer intensity of what he was telling her.

Joshua stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face, as if reassuring himself that she was real. “I want you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a little strained. “I want this—us—no matter the cost. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, not anymore. I’m not going to let anything stand in the way of what we have.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. The emotion that had built up between them, the weight of their shared secrets, the tension of waiting for something to finally give—it all came crashing down in that instant. She leaned into his touch, her hand reaching up to rest over his, holding him close.

“Joshua…” She couldn’t say anything else at first, too overwhelmed by everything he had just revealed. But then, the words came. “I’m so proud of you. This takes more strength than anything I could have ever imagined. I’m sorry you had to do it alone.” Her voice was thick with emotion, trembling with the weight of her feelings.

Joshua’s eyes softened as he wiped away the tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just—I was so afraid of losing everything that I kept hiding. I didn’t know how to be honest, even with myself.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and love. “But now… I can’t keep pretending that this—we—don’t matter. You matter, Y/N. And I’m ready to face whatever comes next, with you by my side.”

Y/N stepped back for a moment, looking up at him with a soft smile. “So what happens now?”

Joshua took a deep breath, his chest still tight with the remnants of the confrontation he had left behind, but something inside him felt lighter. “Now, we take this one day at a time. We live the life we want, not the one anyone else expects us to live. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us. We can go on trips, go bowling, good restaurants, all of it.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening with unspoken hope, and nodded. “Finally.”

And in that moment, everything felt like it was falling into place—like they were finally, truly, on the same side. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be challenges, both personal and external, but together, they were ready to face them. Together, they could finally have the life they’d always wanted, the life they deserved.

A few weeks had passed since that night—since Joshua had stood up to his father, told him the truth, and chosen Y/N. Their relationship, once clouded by secrecy and the weight of Joshua’s family legacy, had blossomed into something more genuine. They were finally able to breathe without the constant fear of being caught, of their love being hidden away. Joshua’s decision had been made, and for the first time, he felt free.

He had stayed away from his father, giving them both time to cool down, to let the emotions settle. Joshua had no illusions that his father would easily accept the change. Still, he couldn’t ignore the small part of him that held hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, his father would come around.

It was a Thursday afternoon when the knock came at the door. Y/N had just finished a late lunch, reading a book on the couch when she heard it. It was a knock that didn’t sound like any of their usual visitors—sharp, deliberate, as though someone had been waiting for the right moment to arrive.

When she opened the door, she wasn’t expecting to see him.

Mr. Hong stood in the doorway, his posture stiff, his face as impassive as it always was. His suit was immaculate, his presence commanding even in this simple setting. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She had only ever heard about him—his control over Joshua, his icy demeanor, his relentless pursuit of perfection. And here he was, standing in her doorway as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

She hesitated for only a moment before speaking, her voice steady but cautious. “Mr. Hong.”

The man looked down at her, his gaze assessing but not unkind. “May I come in?” he asked, his tone far more measured than she had expected.

Y/N stood aside, unsure of how to react but not wanting to be rude. “Of course.”

She led him into the living room, where they both took seats on opposite ends of the space. The air was thick with the weight of his presence. Y/N felt uneasy, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity that burned inside her. What could he possibly want? Why was he here, after everything that had happened?

His father cleared his throat before speaking, his voice softer than she had anticipated. “I’ve come to apologize.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, unsure whether she had heard him right. “Apologize?” she echoed.

“Yes,” Mr. Hong said, his gaze unwavering as he looked her in the eyes. “For everything I put Joshua through. For all the years of pressure and the things I said that drove him away.”

She frowned, unsure how to process his words. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He looked down for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts, before meeting her eyes again. “I thought I was doing what was best for him, for the family. I was wrong. I tried to control everything, everyone, and in the end, I nearly lost my son.” He paused, as though trying to comprehend the depth of what he was admitting. “When he left, when he told me he was choosing you over me… I realized something.”

Y/N said nothing, allowing him the space to speak.

He exhaled slowly. “I realized that I had been the one keeping him in the dark. I’d been so focused on legacy, on appearances, on control, that I didn’t see what I was doing to him. He was never happy. Not truly happy. And that’s on me.” His voice broke slightly, a crack in the carefully constructed armor that had defined him for so long. “I’m… I’m sorry for that. For everything.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She had never imagined a moment like this. She had heard about the man who had shaped Joshua’s life, the man who had made him feel small, inadequate, and forever beneath the weight of expectations. And now, here he was, apologizing—not just for his actions toward her, but for how he had hurt Joshua.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice soft, careful. “But you should really talk to him about all of this. He’s the one you hurt most.”

His father nodded, his eyes momentarily distant. “I know. I will. I need to.” He looked back at her, his expression more vulnerable than she had ever expected to see. “But I wanted to start with you. You’ve been the one to make him see that there’s more to life than what I’ve shown him. I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but I can see that you’ve given him something I never could: the courage to be himself.”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the rawness of his words. She had no doubt that Joshua’s father was trying—genuinely trying. But the scars of his actions weren’t easily erased. Still, she could see the man in front of her wasn’t just the villain in Joshua’s story anymore. He was someone who had been lost too, someone who was now confronting the reality of his mistakes.

“I don’t know what Joshua will say when he hears this,” she said, her voice tentative. “But I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that you understand.”

His expression softened, and for the first time in their interaction, he gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I hope so.”

Later that evening, after Mr. Hong had left, Y/N sat quietly, waiting for Joshua. She hadn’t told him about the visit yet, unsure of how he would react. Part of her knew that the conversation with his father—though a long time coming—might be more complicated than they both realized.

When Joshua finally arrived, looking tired but determined, Y/N didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around him as soon as he stepped through the door, needing the comfort of his presence.

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling back to look up at him. “I need to tell you something.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, his expression wary, but he didn’t say anything as she guided him to the couch.

“Your dad came by today,” she said, watching his reaction closely.

Joshua froze, his face hardening. “What did he want?”

“He came to apologize,” Y/N said carefully, gauging his reaction.

Joshua’s face was a mixture of disbelief and something else—reluctance, maybe? It was clear that he hadn’t expected this.

“Are you serious?” His voice was low, the emotion in it impossible to miss. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

Y/N nodded. “I understand. But I think you should hear him out. He seemed genuine.”

Joshua leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts clearly conflicted. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. After everything he put me through…”

“I know,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “But you’re not the same person you were before. You don’t have to accept anything right away, but maybe... just maybe, you can give him a chance to make things right.”

Joshua was silent for a moment, his eyes staring into the distance as he processed everything. Finally, he turned back to her, his gaze softer. “Maybe.”

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. “When you're ready. And I’ll be here.”

Joshua squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you. For everything.”

And in that moment, even with the uncertainty hanging in the air, he knew he wasn’t facing it alone. Whatever came next, he and Y/N would figure it out—together.

A few weeks had passed since His fathers unexpected visit to Y/N’s apartment. Joshua had spent that time in quiet contemplation, torn between the man his father had forced him to be and the man he was trying to become. The choice was clear now. He was ready to face his father, not as the son who had been molded by expectations, but as the man he had become—someone who had chosen his own path, his own love, and his own life.

He had talked it through with Y/N, who had been nothing but supportive, patient, and understanding. She knew the road to reconciliation with his father wouldn’t be easy. She had seen the scars of his childhood, the way his father’s love had always felt conditional, based on his achievements and his conformity to a perfect image. But she also knew Joshua needed to do this for himself, not for his father, and not for anyone else.

And so, the day came when Joshua, heart pounding in his chest, decided it was time.

Joshua stood in front of Y/N’s apartment, his knuckles lightly tapping the door before he opened it. She was sitting on the couch, the familiar soft light of the afternoon streaming through the windows. He could see the faint worry in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“I think it’s time,” he said simply, his voice steady but with an underlying current of nerves.

Y/N smiled, standing up and walking toward him. She could see it in his eyes, the determination but also the vulnerability. She nodded, her heart swelling with pride. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she said, her voice soothing yet firm. “But if you are, I’ll be right there with you.”

Joshua took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I’m ready. I need to do this. Not just for me, but for us.”

The drive to the Hong estate felt longer than it should have, each mile adding to Joshua’s uncertainty. Y/N sat next to him, her presence grounding him. Every now and then, she would reach over and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding him that this wasn’t something he had to face alone.

When they finally pulled up to the grand gates of the home, Joshua felt the weight of the past pressing down on him. He had never been this nervous in his life—not even on the first date with Y/N. But this wasn’t just about meeting someone new; this was about stepping into a world that had always made him feel small, inadequate, like he could never measure up.

Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him, and she didn’t say anything, just held his hand tighter as they made their way up the driveway. They both knew this wasn’t just a visit; it was a defining moment. The confrontation with his father had to happen, but this moment, right now, was the one that would decide if things could truly change between them.

They walked through the front door of the house, which felt strangely empty despite the grandness of the foyer. Everything in this house was cold, too pristine, too perfectly arranged. It was a place where emotions had always been kept at a distance, and Joshua had spent years trying to meet his father’s impossible standards.

Joshua’s father was sitting in the living room, an armchair that he always seemed to claim as his own. His expression was unreadable as he stood to greet them, but there was a visible tension in his posture. This wasn’t just the son he had known; this was a different Joshua—the Joshua who had learned to stand up for himself, the Joshua who had chosen a different life.

Y/N stood by Joshua’s side, her presence a quiet strength, something that made the room feel a little less suffocating.

“Joshua,” he said, his voice tight but respectful. “You’ve come.”

Joshua nodded, his heart racing. “Yes. I came to talk.”

His eyes flickered to Y/N before returning to his son. “Hello, y/n.” His voice was even, but there was an unfamiliar softness to it. “I didn’t expect her to want to join us.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression calm but firm. She wasn’t intimidated by him, but she could sense that this moment was as much about her as it was about Joshua. She understood that this was the first step toward something real—for them, as a family.

Joshua cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I wanted to be clear with you, Father. I’m not the person you always wanted me to be. I’ve tried, but I’ve realized I can’t be that person anymore. I’m in love with Y/N, and she’s part of my life now. I need you to understand that.”

The elders jaw tightened at the mention of Y/N’s name, but he said nothing for a long moment. His gaze softened slightly, and he let out a slow breath. “I never wanted to hurt you, Joshua. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I wanted you to have the life I never had, the life I thought you deserved. But I can see now that I’ve been blind.”

Joshua felt a flicker of something—a small spark of hope, perhaps. But he knew better than to get ahead of himself. His father’s apology wasn’t going to fix everything in one moment.

His father took a step closer, his eyes searching Joshua’s. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve tried to control you, to force you into something that wasn’t you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/N watched the exchange carefully, her hand still firmly in Joshua’s. She knew this was a big step for him, and it wasn’t about forgiving or forgetting. It was about opening the door to something new, to a different kind of relationship with his father, one built on respect instead of fear.

“Thank you,” Joshua said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “That means more than you know.”

There was a long pause before his dad spoke again. “I don’t expect things to change overnight. But I want to try, Joshua. I want to try to understand who you are now. Who you’ve become. And if you want her in your life, if she’s a part of your future, then… I’ll try to accept that too.”

Joshua didn’t know if his father’s words were enough to undo the years of strain between them, but they were a start. A step toward healing.

Y/N squeezed his hand, her presence a constant reassurance. “Thank you,” she said softly, offering a warm, genuine smile.

There was a long silence as the three of them stood there, the weight of the moment sinking in. It wasn’t perfect. There were still so many things unsaid, so much to be worked through. But for the first time in his life, Joshua felt a flicker of something he hadn’t thought was possible—hope. Maybe things between him and his father could be different, maybe they could find a way forward.

As they left the Hong estate later that evening, hand in hand, Joshua took a deep breath, feeling lighter than he had in years.

“I didn’t expect him to say that,” he admitted, his voice a mixture of disbelief and cautious optimism.

Y/N smiled softly, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. “I don’t think he expected it either. But it’s a start.”

Joshua looked down at her, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Thank you for coming with me. For everything.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Always, babe. I’m right here, no matter what.”

The weeks that followed the meeting with his father were filled with uncertainty, but also a quiet sense of relief. Joshua and Y/N had continued to grow closer, their bond stronger than ever. There were still conversations to be had, still moments of tension between him and his father, but Joshua could finally breathe, unburdened by the weight of his past.

His dad had made an effort—slowly, carefully—to rebuild his relationship with Joshua. They started talking more, and although their relationship wasn’t perfect, it was real. Joshua had learned that it wasn’t about erasing the past, but about creating a new path forward—one where he could be true to himself, without needing to seek approval from the person who had once held all the power over him.

One Saturday evening, just shy of a few months after that pivotal day, Joshua and Y/N found themselves in a small, cozy spot by the river. The sun was beginning to set, casting golden hues over the water as they sat in a quiet corner, far from the noise of the world.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” Joshua said, his voice light with amusement. He had a warm smile on his face, one that was genuine, carefree—the smile of a man who had finally found his place.

Y/N laughed softly, taking a sip of her tea. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... just us. No hiding. No pretending. It feels... good.”

She smiled, the warmth in her chest matching the feeling in her heart. “It does, doesn’t it?”

They had spent so much time in secret—dodging his family’s scrutiny, keeping their love hidden from the world—but now, things were different. They didn’t have to sneak around. They could hold hands in public, share quiet moments, and talk openly about their future. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t always easy, but it was theirs.

Joshua reached across the table, his hand finding hers. He looked at her, his gaze soft and full of affection. “You’ve made me believe in more than just surviving, Y/N. I thought for so long that I had to play by someone else’s rules... that I had to prove something to my father, to everyone. But with you, I’ve learned that I can just be. And that’s enough.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with love. “I never wanted you to be anyone but yourself, Joshua. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me.”

Joshua’s eyes shone with emotion, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself fully embrace the love they had—love that wasn’t about expectations or conditions, but about simply being there for one another.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For never giving up on me. For standing by me when I wasn’t sure who I was.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened, and she shook her head. “I didn’t give up on you. I believed in you, Shua. Always.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the gentle hum of the café surrounding them. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple. The world felt like it was slowing down, just for them.

Suddenly, Joshua pulled something from his pocket—something small, wrapped carefully in velvet. Y/N looked at him, curious, as he slid it across the table toward her.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and delight.

Joshua smiled softly, the same warmth in his eyes that she had come to love. “Just a little something for you.”

She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a delicate diamond engagement ring. The center stone sparkled brightly, a soft halo surrounding it, elegant and timeless—a reflection of everything they had been through, and everything they would face together in the future.

“What the.. Is this?” She said, her voice soft, filled with awe.

“I thought it was time,” Joshua said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not asking you to wait forever anymore, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you—no more hiding, no more uncertainty. I want you by my side, always.”

Y/N felt a rush of warmth flood her chest, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the ring. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice steady but full of love. “You’ve been my strength, my guide, my heart. I want this. I want you.”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Joshua gently took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. He looked at her with such intensity, his eyes soft with love and promise. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever known how to say.”

She smiled through the tears, her heart overflowing. “I love you too. I always have.”

And with that, they sat in the warmth of each other’s company, knowing that no matter what the future held, they would face it together—unapologetically, without fear, and with hearts that had finally found their home in each other.

Months later, the Hong estate had changed. It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but there was progress. Joshua had finally learned how to set boundaries with his father, and though there were still disagreements, there was a newfound respect between them. Joshua had come to terms with the fact that his father’s approval would never be unconditional, but he had also come to understand that he didn’t need it to be happy.

He was no longer defined by his father’s expectations or by the pressure of a legacy he had never chosen. He was his own man, with his own dreams—and he had Y/N by his side. They were no longer a secret. They were a couple, standing proudly in the light of the life they had chosen for themselves.

And when the time came for their wedding day, the simple, intimate ceremony was filled with love—not just from the two of them, but from their families and friends who had supported them along the way. It wasn’t about grand gestures or the approval of others; it was about their love, which had been forged in secret but had blossomed into something pure and real.

As they stood together at the altar, Joshua holding her hand, Y/N smiled up at him, knowing that this was only the beginning of their life together.

They had faced the darkness. They had fought for each other. And now, they were stepping into a future full of love, trust, and hope.

174 notes · View notes

explainslowly · 3 days ago

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I'll admit a lot about this conversation is weirding me out personally, but I am interested in approaching the call for comments and attention as like, call for connection - I think that's probably true for a lot of people who struggle with this stuff. Fandom is just much more fun if you find a group of like-minded sickos who share your approach to the material. And not having that feels lonely.

But like, there is a reason people keep this engagement to discords. Social media is not a friendly place - and while tumblr is firmly in it's twilight years, rawdogging tags and such is still a great way to piss yourself off or attract assholes. Not even speaking of social media that's much more open and vast - from what I've seen on Twitter, becoming the latest lolcow takes a literal single post to take off and land in front of the wrong kind of people.

So people do part of their fandom engagement in more private spaces. How is this new? I'll admit I skipped LJ in my fandom engagement, but it's not like forums were being indexed by google. Most I've ever been on only showed you posts when logged in. I used to be in places that were invite only. And plenty of old internet was deeply ephemeral. Unless people were saving logs or screenshotting, it's not like you could easily find discussion that happened on IRC or 4chan. That stuff came and went.

Why?? Don't get me wrong, again, I have skipped LJ but like, weren't there friendslocked posts and discussions? Don't tell me you were all blasting every single opinion about a work right into the authors ears? It's very strange to me when we treat private discussion of your work in some discord (where people are linking the fic, because how else would they discuss it) the same as when someone exploits your writing for tiktok views without permition or linkback.

feedback and fic in fandom (3 f's of our own)

This conversation about feedback on fic says everything I’ve been wanting to say better than I could say it. But I’ll go ahead and try anyway.

Over the last five years or so there have been some great discussions around the rise of commodification of fanworks and decline of fandom community. This commodification looks a bit like enshittification of the internet: a cool site exists; its popularity makes someone realize they can get money from it; it has more and more ads; the site adds features to drive engagement, including The Algorithm; the things that made the site cool start to fall away. The site exists now as a vehicle purely to get clicks, and the people on it are on it solely to get clicks—to make money, to be successful, for some kind of social cachet.

AO3 doesn’t have advertisements. It’s not making money. But what is happening to fandom is proof of concept that enshittification changes the way we as humans engage. A cool website in 2004 was often a community space where you could meet people, have conversations, find cool things, and make cool things. A cool website in 2024 is either a content farm that will continually feed you enough content to hold your attention, or a social media site where your participation will come with stats to show you whether you are holding the attention of others.

AO3 wasn’t built to be a community space. It doesn’t have great functions for meeting people and having conversations. The idea was that, because fandom community spaces already existed, AO3 would serve the part of that community where you can find the cool things and store the cool things you made. It was meant to be a library in a city, not the whole city itself.

But it was also never meant to be a website in 2024, a content farm constantly generating content solely for your clicks and eyeballs and ad revenue, or a social media site where the content creators themselves vie for your clicks and eyeballs.

The most common talking point when people discuss the enshittification of fandom is the folks out there who are treating AO3 as that first kind of enshittified website: the content farm. This discussion is about how people treat fanfic as a product for consumption.

The post that kicked off the discussion on @sitp-recs’s blog was about someone who wasn’t getting very many kudos or comments on their fic, and was feeling pretty demoralized about it, then joined a discord server and found an entire channel dedicated to people loving their fic. But those on that server had never come to share that love with the author, which the author found really discouraging.

There are more and more stories like this. Someone on tiktok pulls a quote from a fic on AO3 and makes a 10-second video with them staring at a wall, the quote pasted at the bottom, music playing over it. It has 100,000 hearts, and 100 comments with people gushing over the fic, which has 80 kudos on AO3. Overall, people notice more and more hits on their fics, but fewer and fewer comments or even kudos. Fewer and fewer people seem to feel the need to interact with the author, instead treating the fic like a product to be used and discarded—which the enshittified internet (a stunning feature of late-stage capitalism!) encourages. The fandom community is dying, these stories conclude.

I agree. 100%. Both of the stories above have happened to me—viral tiktoks about my fic, secret discord channels to follow and discuss my fic—and let me tell you, it fucking sucks.

But from these observations about fandom enshittification, the discussion continues in a very odd direction. The solution to the death of fandom community is our favorite enshittification buzzword: engagement. We should engage the authors. They’re producing these products for free. We consume them at no cost. We must demonstrate our gratitude by paying them back.

It’s as though the capitalist consumption that the enshittified web encourages is so ingrained within us that we must think in terms of payment, in terms of exchange, transaction. Or as though, by forgoing payment, authors are some kind of martyrs defying capitalism, and the only way to honor their great sacrifice is comments and kudos.

Indeed, the discourse around this sometimes does veer away from capitalist rhetoric into something that smells almost religious in desperation. Authors are gods who bestow us mere mortals with the fruits of their labor benevolently, through love; the least we can do is worship them. Meanwhile the authors adopt the groveling sentiment of starving artists: I produce great art; I only humbly ask that you feed me in return.

These kinds of entreaties make my skin crawl for a number of reasons. I’m not a god. I’m not writing because I love you. I don’t expect your worship or even your praise.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most about it is that it suggests that authors (or, if the OP is feeling generous fan work creators) are the most important people in fandom. I’ve even seen posts stating that without creators, fandom wouldn’t exist—as though readers aren’t just as important. As though conversations where people discuss characterizations and plot points and randomly spin out interpretations and ideas and thoughts related to canon are meaningless. I’ve even seen people scramble to include folks having these discussions as “creators,” as though realizing that these people are necessary and integral to fandom communities but unable to drop the idea that the producers are the ones who are important. As though that person who just lurks can never count.

Is this what community is? When you join the queer community, are you expected to produce a product of your queerness? If not, must you actively participate and give back to the queer community in order to be considered a part of it? Or is it enough that you are queer, that you exist as a queer person and want to be around others who are queer, you want to be a part of something? What is community, anyway?

The problem with people raising the authors above everyone else in the community and demanding that tribute be paid is that they are decrying the “content farm” style of 2024 website out of one side of their mouth, but out of the other side are instead demanding that AO3 become a 2024-style social media website. Authors are influencers. “Engagement” and clicks are the things that really matter. They are in fact suggesting that the way to solve the commodification of fanfic is by “paying authors back” with stats.

Before anyone comes at me with the idea that comments aren’t just “stats,” I will clarify what I mean. There are literally hundreds of posts on tumblr alone claiming that any comment “helps” the author. Someone replies that they are shy to comment. Someone else replies that incoherent keyboard smashes, a single emoji, or the comment “kudos” are all that is required to satisfy the author, all that is required as tribute—all that is required as payment to keep this economy healthy.

I’m not condemning the comments that are keyboard smashes or emojis or a single kind word. I receive them. They make me happy. If anyone wants to leave such a comment on my fics, I’m really grateful for it. But this is not community-building. This is a transaction. In @yiiiiiiiikes25’s excellent response in the post linked at the beginning, they point out that “you have a cool hat” is something that is “perfectly nice” to hear from someone—and it is! We all want to be told we have a cool hat! But as they go on to say, what builds community is interactions that are deep and specific, interactions that are rich in quality, not in quantity. A kudos or a comment that says only ❤️are lovely things to receive, but they don’t build community.

My reaction, when I see people begging for kudos and comments as the only means by which to keep fandom community alive, is very close to @eleadore's. I want to say, “No. Readers do not need to comment or kudos. Believe not these hucksters who claim to know the appropriate method of fandom participation. Participate as you feel able, or not at all; nothing is required of you.”

I’ve been told before (several times) that I’m not qualified to participate in such discussions because I am an established author who has some fics with very high stats. It doesn’t matter that I have also been a new writer with almost no one reading my fics. It doesn’t matter that I still write in new fandoms where no one in that fandom knows me. It doesn’t matter that I, like any human being, still care about receiving recognition and attention and praise.

And maybe that’s correct. I personally don’t think that billionaires have a place in deciding the direction of the economy, and--if we're really going to consider fandom an economy--in fandom terms, if I’m not a billionaire, or even a millionaire, I’m definitely in the infamous “one percent.” So, just as no one wants to hear Elon Musk say “money isn’t everything,” maybe it’s not my place to say “kudos isn’t required, actually.”

That said, I’m not the only one who has a problem with the stats-based discourse around fandom community. However, the main counter-response to this discussion I see goes something like this: you shouldn’t be writing fic for validation. If you’re writing for attention, you’re doing it for the wrong reason. Authors should write fic because they love it without any expectation of return.

This is, in my opinion, missing the point of what is meant by fandom community.

I wrote fanfic before I knew that fanfic, as a concept, existed. I read books; I wanted them to be different; I wrote little stories for myself with new endings, with self-inserts, with cross-overs, with alternate universes. I did it for myself in the 90s. It never occurred to me that anyone else would do this, much less that people would share.

As @faiell points out—creating and sharing are two different things. I created fics for myself, but I decided to share them in the early 2000s because other people might like them, too. And of course, I wanted to hear whether other people liked them. How could I not? I might decorate my home just for me and not for anyone else’s preferences, but when people come over and say my house is nice, how can I not enjoy that? And if a lot of people think my house is nice, which encourages me to post pictures of it online, isn’t it understandable I might do so with the hope that more people will say my house is nice? And, honestly, if no one is appreciating my pictures, I probably won’t continue to go through the trouble of taking them and posting them. I’ll just enjoy my house that I decorated without sharing, the end.

When I found out there were whole fannish communities where people discussed canon and tossed ideas around about it, made theories and prompts and insights into the characters, fics they had written and recs for other fics and analyses of fics and art based on fics and fics based on art—I wanted to be a part of that, too. Now, sometimes, I write fic not out of an internal need to do so but out of a desire to participate in that community.

The idea that we write fic only for the love of it, then post it only because we possess it, is a process entirely centered on the self. It’s fandom in a vacuum. The idea that we share this thing, that we feel pleasure if someone likes it but feel nothing at all if no one says anything about it, that it’s completely okay to be ignored and unseen—that’s not what a community is either. That’s some weird sort of self-aggrandizement through self-effacement—because yes, there is often a weird kind of virtue-signaling in this kind of discourse.

I say this as someone who has virtue-signaled in that way: “some people write for stats, but I write for myself.” It’s bullshit. Sure, I write for myself, but why post it on the internet? Honestly, said virtue has a whiff of the capitalist machine, which would like you to produce for the sake of production, work for the sake of work. The noblest among us expect no recompense for that which they give!

The reason that I’m bringing this back around to capitalism is that capitalism actively works to dismantle community. The reason that folks are out here pleading for “engagement” in order to “pay back” authors for the products they give us “for free” is because people no longer even have the language to discuss how to participate in meaningful community. And frankly, how to build back fandom community, in the face of enshittification, is getting harder and harder to see.

But I do think that if we value fanfic and the fanfic community, it’s really, really not constructive to judge whether someone’s reasons for writing fanfic are valid. It’s also weird to me that it would be considered wrong that someone’s reason for sharing fanfic is because they would like to receive some recognition for it, when in fact that seems to be the most natural reason in the world for sharing something so private and vulnerable with the world.

Let’s go back to that idea of how hurtful it is to find out your fanfic is trending on tiktok without anyone from tiktok saying anything to you about your fic, or how it can be painful to find out there’s a secret discord channel dedicated to your fic. The people who respond to that with, “Ah, but you shouldn’t be writing to get attention!” are missing the point. The fic did get attention. It got lots. Attention obviously wasn't why the writer was writing--they were writing to participate, and they didn't get to. At all.

However, if your conclusion is that the author was upset because these particular stats were not accruing under this author’s profile, thereby preventing them from achieving the vaunted status of BNF and influencer—I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But I don’t think that’s why I, personally, have been hurt by these things, and I doubt it’s what hurt the people in these posts either. They’re hurt because they want to participate, and they have been systematically excluded by the very people they thought were part of the community they thought they could participate in.

Sure, if those folks from tiktok and the discord server all came and showered the author with kudos and comments that said “kudos,” the author might have felt satisfied enough with the quantity of this recognition that they would continue writing. But in the end, this still does nothing to address the problem of fandom community, in which the deep, meaningful recognition, interactions, and relationships in fandom are getting harder and harder to have and to build, as a result of how people now expect to engage in online spaces.

So, how to address the problem of fandom community? You probably read this long, long post hoping that I had an answer, and for that I must apologize. I don’t have solutions. My intent was to be descriptive, rather than prescriptive. I wished to outline the problems that I’m seeing in what was hopefully a slightly new or at least thought-provoking way, rather than offer solutions.

But, now that I’m talking about being prescriptive, maybe I can offer one suggestion, which is—maybe the solution to this isn’t about prescribing behavior. I do understand the irony in writing a prescription saying we shouldn’t prescribe people, but I’m going to write it anyway:

Maybe we shouldn’t be telling anyone the appropriate reasons for writing fanfic or for sharing it. Maybe we shouldn’t be telling readers they need to kudos or need to comment. If we’re going to go pointing fingers, we should be pointing at the institutions of capitalism that have made the internet what it is today—but I don’t think that’s going to solve the problem either.

But I do think that describing this problem, understanding what it actually is, not blaming readers for it and not blaming authors for it—I do think that helps. The discussion I linked at the beginning of this post is what I think of as the fandom I miss, the fandom that's now harder and harder to access, the fandom that is dying. That fandom was a social space where people had opinions and disagreed and went back and forth and gazed at their navels and then talked about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

In the words of @yiiiiiiiikes25, it was a fuckin’ discussion about hats. And we’re hungry for it.

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ayamari-no-goshi · 2 days ago

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Okay, we gotta talk about Pit Madness in the comics.

I keep seeing a bunch of people saying it’s not real. Problem. It is. It’s just rarely brought up.

It might not be the earliest reference, but we have this panel with Talia talking about how madness seizes him after dipping in the Lazarus Pit

Batman #244 (1972)

But this isn’t the only time we get reference to this. The panel below also talks about lore of the Lazarus Pits and again mentions that madness.

Batman: Bane of the Demon. Issue 3 (1998)

This gets referenced again in Hush when Bruce is fighting who he thinks is someone pretending to be Jason having been resurrected in the Pits during Hush.

Bruce is thinking about how he almost out Jason in a Pit after his death, but due to the madness the Pit can cause and Jason’s injuries to the head, he thought against it.

Batman # 618 - I think it’s volume 11 in the Hush omnibus (2003)

We see a reference to it again regarding Jason in the Lost Days. What’s super interesting here is that Talia states the Pits did NOT drive Jason mad, but Ra’s warns her that it’s possible the madness can occur up to years after a person’s dip.

I find this particular one fascinating, simply because of the lore that Pit Madness can take hold decades after a dip in a Pit.

Red Hood: the Lost Days #2 (2010)

Now, regarding Jason. There has NEVER been any concrete proof he’s suffered from Pit Madness. It’s very popular as a head cannon simply because Jason’s characterization is so all over the place.

Edit: Please keep in mind Jason was calm, cool, collected, and conniving in Under the Red Hood. Saying he’s Pit Mad there takes away all of the impact and gets rid of his motivations. Please be aware of this.

Now, that’s not saying there’s not a connection between Jason and the Pits. There was an entire arc in Red Hood and the Outlaws (2010) regarding this which also deals with Jason’s time with the All-Caste.

I still haven’t gotten around to reading that part, but it’s where the permanent augmentation theories come from. Oh, and Jason can canonically make constructs from Lazarus Water. Ra’s can too, but yeah… it’s a thing.

Red Hood and the Outlaws 2010 #27 (Released in 2014)

But while there’s no confirmation Jason’s dealt with Pit Madness, you know who has? Cass

Batgirl 1 #72 or 73 (2006)

Cass was revived after taking a blow for someone. And Shiva revived her, but there’s no permanence to it. And to my knowledge, I could be wrong since I’m not as familiar with her runs, this is the only time it gets referenced with her.

But going back to my original point that started this: Pit Madness is real. It’s just rarely seen in the comics. And if you want to use it, that’s fine - just be careful about its use since you can ruin characterization with it.

Edit 2: while there isn’t much of Pit Madness seen in the comics, it does seem to wear off over time. We also know a dip in the Pit temporarily increases brain power and physical strength/ability.

We also know that there’s a Lazarus Pit under Gotham and that its waters leech into Gotham’s water supply.

That’s referenced in Teen Titans vol. 3 issues 40-41 (2007) - forgive me. I don’t feel like looking up those panels

#dc comics #batman #lazarus pit #Pit Madness #Jason Todd #Red Hood #cassandra cain #ra’s al ghul #I personally started using the idea the Lazarus pit amplifies negative emotions more #which is canon #but it allows for influence without ruining motivations

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mysticalserenity-tarot · 2 days ago

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ᰔᩚ🗝Where the connection with your person is headed? (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

♡ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ ♡

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support. It means a lot!

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll find out where the connection with your specific person (no matter who) is headed. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

♡ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ ♡

PILE 1 🔑

2 of Swords, Death Rx, Ace of Pentacles (9 of Wands)

Hello Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Whenever I see The Wheel card, I always think of karmic bonds or relationships. This card indicates an inevitable fate, which reminds me of karma and its lessons. But remember, karma can be positive too - and at the end, you'll be grateful for what you learned. Don't fear it, darling. Neither of you knows where this connection is headed, and for some of you, I sense a connection that's energetic. You may dream of each other. All the cards in your spread depict people with their eyes closed, which also tells me that some of you are trying to make sense of your connection with this person and asking yourself why you feel so drawn to them. Well, it's karmic, so you have unfinished business/unsolved debts with this person, and to move forward in life, you both have to solve them or let go of them and become a better version of yourself. Some of you are building a fence to protect your peace from this person if you have suffered in the past, you do not want to repeat the same 'mistake,' but deep down, I believe you're longing for them because, again, you may have unfinished business or unsolved karma. I'm not sure if we can escape karmic relationships, except by working on ourselves and including shadow work in our routines. That helps us free ourselves from past wounds. Your or your person, but I'm getting both of you, fear change and try to avoid it, holding tight to the past, even if it hurts. But this instead of helping, it blocks you and keeps you going in circles as if there's no way out when in reality there is - but you need to find it looking within you and trusting your gut.

However, nothing is lost because the rest of the cards show me a beautiful outcome for all of you in different ways, but still beautiful. I see material gains, prosperity, and new opportunities that bring abundance, an important step for soul growth and expansion. For some of you I see this connection finally "materializing" in the 3D, you'll reconcile or get in union with them. For others of you I see you resisting this connection, those strong feelings you're holding for long and finally let go of them, which is good as they may not have been for you.

This will lead you to an even better outcome that you may not expect, but that you'll feel grateful for once it comes, and you'll meet someone that is for you and fulfills your heart and soul. All of you will grow and feel inspired and passionate again, with sparkling creativity. It's a great time for growth for all of you. The two Ace's in your spread also tell me that this is just the beginning, and if you're going through a 'dark' period, it's going to be better! <3

Blue, Pink, and red colors may be significant for some of you. Whether is you, your person or both. As well as 1/11/111 and this is also Pile 1 😆

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading with me. All infos in my paid readings services. However, I also do donation based readings on my Kofi. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity.

PILE 2 🔑

7 of Pentacles, The Empress Rx, The Devil (6 of Swords, The Tower)

Hello Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Oh, my dear pile 2, I'm picking up some troubling energy here. As always, I strive to be as honest as possible, and I believe sugarcoating is not helpful for anyone, however as a positive person myself I love to give advices and encourage people specially in difficult situations.

I see the majority of you is feeling trapped in this connection and can't find the way out, whether confessing to this person or let go. Pretty similar to pile 1 (if you feel called to, please check it) but your group's energy feels a bit more troubled, worried for some reason and there's more emphasis on the 'letting go' part. One of you in this connection is more giving than the other so there's an imbalance and this applies to energetic connections as well, one of you is more invested than the other, hence the Devil card also indicating obsession and the need to let go or ease the feelings for your person. The Empress reversed is a confirmation that you're neglecting yourself and your needs because you're too focused and invested in your person. They're probably your first thought when you wake up and last thought when you go to sleep, occupying your mind almost 24/7 while they're more focused on their career rather than love. But for some of you, what I just picked up applies to both and both of you are obsessed with each other but for some reason, you cannot be together or at least for now. "Divine timing" I know you're fed up to hear this and I am too, but trust that the divine knows when is the right moment for anything and is not punishing you but helping you to not sabotage your connection.

If this connection downs you instead of lifting you up, this reading is a strong sign (my corrector typed "sigh" instead of sign, so I'd take it as a sign lol), from your intuition to let go even if it may be painful at first, trust that you're doing the right thing and better things are awaiting for you. Sometimes a 'difficult transition' is necessary for growth and healing. (6 of Swords and The Tower kept appearing in your reading) I see that you'll navigate successfully through those turbulent waters. With the 3 of Swords at the bottom of the deck, neither the outcome is positive, and if you keep up with this person, it may lead to a broken heart or disappointment.

I see also the color black being dominant which in Tarot is not a good omen as it alludes to hindrances and burdens. (black could be significant for some). As well as the two 3s which mean a need for cooperation if you really want this connection to work.

The message that I'm getting strongly is that you need to recognize your self-worth and be confident in your own skin, and not let anyone change you because you are worth it, my dear, today, tomorrow, and always. And for that, you deserve better, someone that truly loves and respects you and not just in Valentine's Day. But don't worry, because I sense that when you'll finally recognize your worth and power, you'll get that loving person who will love you for who you are, so don't be afraid to let go of this one that deep down may make you unhappy as you don't see any progress from their part. When someone is meant for us, we don't have to force anything, and the physical union will just happen naturally when the time is right. But remember, nothing is set in stone and energies can shift. I am nobody to dictate your life, I'm just reading cards and your energies. You do what you feel like.

Whatever you decide that feels right to your heart will bring you in this Queen of Wands energy: CONFIDENT, PASSIONATE, CREATIVE, and LEADER of yourself, and manifest the life that you want, because she's also a great manifestor!

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 2.

PILE 3 🔑

Knight of Wands, The World, 2 of Pentacles Rx (5 of Wands)

Hello Pile 3, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Compared to the other piles, this one feels more positive. (curiously my group 3's often have positive energies I love that!)

Despite some initial setbacks or obstacles, I see this connection working but not immediately; you both have to work for it. I see disharmony in this couple and overall conflicts that you both have to navigate through if you want your connection to thrive. It's crucial to be clear with each other about what you want from this connection, whether it's casual and short-term (like friends with benefits) or something more serious and long-term. Unless you want both the fun and the seriousness *wink wink* what matters is that you communicate with your person (or partner if you're already in a relationship with them). If you don't, it would be a pity as I see a beautiful connection between you both, but the choice is yours.

Indeed, the Ace of Swords appearing on top of the deck indicates a time for clarity and breakthrough, and confirms the need for open and honest communication between you and your person. My cards can't stress enough how important this is.

If you and your person are not yet in a relationship, they may be worried that you have many suitors or you think they have. However, I don't see them paying much attention to those suitors. One of you (I feel them) may be in a relationship with someone else, and you may think their partner is toxic and want them out of it. If you strongly feel within you that they are unhappy, try to communicate it to them. Communication isn't just for those already in a relationship.

The 10 of Cups and The Sun appearing while I was shuffling is a clear indication that your connection is meant to be or become something beautiful, as long as you and your person work for it.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #tarot blr #tarot blog #pick an image #tarot cards #collective reading #tarot readings #love tarot reading #love reading #spirituality #tarot deck #the light seer's tarot #mysticalserenity tarot #love reader #intuition #intuitive reader

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noxiwrites · 4 hours ago

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Forbidden

Synopsis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class. You’re not too bothered by him, he’s just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It’s every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

2.3k

Chatter mulls through the room as you sit quietly at your desk, reviewing some of the content for the final year of your class here. You can tell everyone is excited, the final year of this four year course upon you.

You, on the other hand, were less excited. The pressure of the material was very demanding already and you just wanted to get on top of it, keep it down to a minimum so it wouldn’t collapse your entire life.

A door opens at the back of the classroom and the chatter is suddenly gone, a stiff silence falling over the rest of your classmates as they take in someone who is definitely not your teacher, stood at the desk at the front of the class.

Immediately, you hear the hustles of chatter from all the girls in class as they take in the very obviously handsome man stood waiting. He grins, looking around the room and soaking up the attention. You roll your eyes and scoff, not bothered by his pretty face as you look down to review the material for what felt like the ten millionth time.

“Okay guys, enough chatter, let’s get started,” his voice scratches at the back of your brain, something about the way he sounds making you turn all mushy.

“So, you’re probably wondering where Dr.Mendez is, right?” A murmur of agreement washes the room and you glance upward, watching as his hands clasp around a book, stance all flexed as he leans against the edge of the desk. You can see him scanning the room and your eyes meet for a second, him flashing you a brief smile before you’re looking back down, again.

He’s hot. He’s making you all flustered, no doubt like all the other girls in the class- and it frustrated you. You’re just here to learn.

“Well he’s swamped with other classes this year so I’m stepping in to teach, you’re stuck with me,” you can hear the smugness in his tone, basking in the attention from the girls fawning over him.

“I’ll die a happy woman stuck with you, sir,” a whiny voice giggles from behind you and you already know it’s Kendra, a self centered bitch who has done nothing but make your life living hell while being in this class.

He laughs, thanking her, before moving on. You look up again, watching him as he strides around the desk to take a seat on the front of it and opening the book in his hands.

“I’m Rafe by the way. I’d prefer if you guys just called me that,” he looks around the room, thumbing the page he’s currently on as he takes in the entire class. Again, your eyes meet and he smiles again, something you don’t return as you expectantly wait for him to move on with the class.

“Right, so, I’ve been filled in on what you guys have been learning for the past three years, and this is your last year, yeah? Very important.” A chorus of further murmurs flow from the class and Rafe, now you know his name, nods. He slaps his knee, standing as he walks back to his laptop, clicking some buttons before it connects to the large projector.

“I won’t keep you waiting then, let’s get started shall we?”

By the end of the three hour class, you’re exhausted. You’re so ready to climb into your car and get home, climb into bed and have a fat nap. As usual, you’re one of the last to leave class, hating getting caught in the throngs of people all leaving with the same goal as you.

Kendra and her cronies are stood talking to Rafe at his desk as she giggles and twirls her hair around her finger about something he’s saying, and you roll your eyes as you shove your book bag further onto your shoulder and descend the steps down the the bottom of the class.

It really makes you want to scoff, how fucking sleazy she is- really, the guy has just started to teach the class and she’s already trying to get her claws into him. You wonder, sometimes, how she managed to get into an advanced class, but then you remember she was born into money, her perfectly bleached blonde hair and always perfectly manicured nails reminding you of that.

“See you later,” you hear Rafe say and you turn, to see his focus completely on you instead of Kendra. Her scowl could kill if it were possible, mad that his attention is on you rather than her. You smile and nod, waving goodbye before rushing for the door and leaving.

It’s cold out in the parking lot, and you regret parking your car at the far side this morning when you were in a better mood. You’re thankful, however, that this is your only class today and you can just go home and sleep.

The drive to your apartment only takes fifteen minutes, traffic light as a slight drizzle begins to fall on your windscreen, rolling your window down to scan your badge to get into your estate gate.

Your cat greets you through the window of your ground flat as you pull into the parking spot in front of it, turning the engine off and grabbing your stuff before rushing to the door, leaving down to greet whiskers as you close the door.

“Let’s go to bed, eh?” You ask, and he purrs, following you down the hall. When you’re finally relaxed in bed, you find yourself thinking of the new teaching assistant, wondering if he knows what he’s signed himself up for.

“Good morning guys, we ready to start?” Rafe asks the room, cup of something steamy in his left hand. You can hear Kendra giggle from behind you and you just know she’s twirling her hair in her fingers, which makes you sigh.

Today, your friend, Molly, had decided to turn up. You’re grateful, telling her about yesterdays events in a hushed tone as her eyes grow wider the further you tell.

You drop your eyes down to Rafe to see him setting up his PowerPoint again, clicking away on his keyboard.

“Yeah and he literally said goodbye to me, and she was all like grrrr and scowley like? I didn’t do anything,” you tell her, Molly flashing a frown over her shoulder to signify her displeasure. She hates Kendra just as much as the next person.

“To be fair, he is very attractive. I’d be mad if I put that much into my appearance and you stole his attention just like that,” she snaps her fingers to give you an idea of what she means and you blush. You definitely didn’t steal his attention, he was just saying goodbye. Right?

You both fall into silence as Rafe begins talking to the class about different formulas, all the basic stuff that you noticed at the beginning of the content paper. This class is shorter, only being an hour and a half, before you’ve got another class in the afternoon with another teacher.

As you work through the slides, you find yourself glancing at Rafe more and more. You had to give it to him, he was very attractive. Buzzed hair, sharp jawline and sparkly eyes that everytime they looked into your own, sent you dizzy.

Alas, he was your teacher. It begged the question in the back of your head of how old he was, because he didn’t look much older than you to be honest. The slides soon come to an end, Rafe clapping his hands as he thanked everyone for turning up today. Everyone grapples to leave, Kendra hanging by his desk as he lazily entertains her while typing away on his computer.

You bid Molly goodbye as she rushes off out the door, desperate to see her boyfriend before he goes to his next class, leaving you to pack your things as you earwig on what Kendra is saying.

“I think I could do with some extra tutoring, Rafe,” she twirls her hair around her finger again, eyes blazing down at him. Rafe grins, laughing up at her before going back to his computer.

“You’re fine Kendra, I reviewed your papers from last year. No tutoring needed,” you can practically hear the sarcasm from here, and you’re sure Kendra is one more comment away from bursting into tears and ringing her father because the teacher won’t fuck her.

“Oh, okay. If you say so Rafe, but I’m always free,” she scrapes her fingers along his desk, and act that makes you wince as you walk down the steps.

“See you next week, Rafe,” she drawls, before throwing you a scowl, leaving the classroom. You’re about to follow, not wanting to stop and chat, but Rafe does so anyway.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to speak to you, actually,”

You turn on the spot, swallowing despite suddenly having a dry mouth. You walk back, standing in front of his desk as he closes his laptop and smiles up at you.

“I uh, had a look at your papers from last year,” he begins, but you can’t help your mind from racing already.

“What? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?” You ask, words rushing out of your mouth like you’re spewing.

Rafe shakes his head, eyes never leaving yours. “No, no. I just think you’re lacking some certain aspects that could definitely help you be the top of the class,”

You breathe out, not realising you weren’t breathing at all. He grins, lazily, as he begins to toy with the edge of one of the books on his desk.

“I think I can help you be the best. I’d like to tutor you, if you’d like the help. You can say no and still pass the class but I think the extra help will get you to the top,” he concludes, fingers dancing along the edge of the book.

“I uh, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s very fair one other students,” you quip, pushing your bag up your shoulder. As you do, your skirt pulls up your legs a bit more and you see the brief second his eyes flicker down, before looking back up at you and gulping.

“I can see that, yes. I just think you have the most potential,” you eyes wander back down to his hand, now playing with the edge of the book, other moving up to rest under his chin.

He has nice hands, you think, and immediately want to slap yourself. He’s your teacher.

“Uh, thank you?” It comes out as more of a question and Rafe laughs, circling the edge of the book. You have to pry your eyes away from it.

“You can think. Let me know next Monday, after class. Have the rest of the week.” You nod meekly, smiling lightly at him as you bid him goodbye, heading for the door.

“Oh, and before I forget, make sure you read up on pages one hundred to one hundred and sixty for next week. I know you like to get ahead.”

“You’re going to say yes, right? I mean it’s a no brainer,” she continues, rambling. Truth is, the more you’ve thought about it, the more appealing it sounds. You’d love to be top of the class, make your dad proud, and rub it in Kendras face, like a reminder that money can’t buy grades.

“Like imagine? What if he tries to make a move on you, I mean look at you? Why would he not? Oh my god, this is perfect,” she almost yells, before taking a sip of her wine. You’d not actually thought about that part of it, choosing to mostly ignore it.

But then, if that were his motive, who would he ask you and not Kendra? She was the better option for something like that. You would like to think that it wasn’t one of those deals, that he actually wanted to help you, and that was the part that was convincing you.

“I think I’m gonna say yes, but just for the tutoring, I wanna get better grades,” you tell her, taking a sip of your own glass of wine. Whiskers jumps down from the windowsill next to you, fawning around in your lap before collapsing down and falling asleep. You scratch his head, looking over at your friend who wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“But you wouldn’t turn him down if he made a move, no?”

“I don’t know Mol, he’s just another pretty face to me,” you say, looking over at the tv. You were trying to watch twilight, until you got distracted by rambling Molly who only comes out after some wine.

“Cmon, he’s so totally into you! Turning down Kendra to then offer the exact same thing to you,” she declares, pushing your shoulder back. You have to admit, there may be some truth in her statement, because why would he do that for you but not her?

“I just hope I actually get taught what I’m missing,” you say, causing Molly to roll her eyes. “You’re not missing anything, you’re already one of the top in the class, he just likessss you,” she drawls the likes, making you giggle at her as you bite the edge of your wine glass, contemplating the pros and cons of letting Rafe be your tutor.

You’re going to do it.

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ Hello!! First series I’m actually excited to write ! Teacher Rafe is just 🤩 much love, let me know what you think <3

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inssertusernamehere · 1 day ago

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I’ve seen Grian’s loyalty talked about a lot, and how he views his ally-ships, and I’d like to give my own view on it.

I feel like the reason for his semi-aloofness can be connected all the way back to Third Life. In Third Life, Grian was Scar’s right hand man. They were very close. They killed for each other, died for each other, lived for each other. Their relationship did start as a debt, but it grew into something more. Even after Grian lost his life and was free from the shackles of their deal, he stayed. They cared for the other like no one else on the server, and where did it get them? One dead, by the other’s hand. So if you look at it from Grian’s perspective, even after he gave his all to Scar, he was still left alone at the top of that mountain. In Grian’s eyes, Scar suffered because of him, and left Grian heartbroken and in tragedy. This would be the start to Grian seeing allies as an inevitable road to misery. His Widow’s curse also doesn’t help this. In every season, each time, he kills or lives past his relationships, and that, plus the desert, taught him that no matter his intentions, he’s the problem. You can also see this in how he talks to and treats his allies. He’ll hold them at arms length, not daring to become too attached, yet he still wants that comfort. He wants to rely on someone, to have that bond. But he’s also terrified of the repercussions later on.

In Last Life he tried his best to hold the Southlands together, even starting the life-trade ritual, but it wasn’t enough. They disbanded, and Grian ended up killing two of the previous members.

In Double Life, Grian was paired with Scar, a bitter reminder of what they were in the desert, as well as what their fate was back then. Grian could see the beginnings of another cactus ring, of another relationship he’ll ruin. So he does what he does best, he pushes Scar away. He becomes secret soulmates with Big B, still searching for that connection even in his abandonment of another. But Grian still cares. He looks after Scar still, staying by his side and caring for him until their elimination.

In Limited Life Grian had the Bad Boys, obviously deeply enjoying their time together and the two other members. But once again it doesn’t last. Grian gave Jimmy the TNT minecart that killed him, and was also there to witness Joel’s death. After their deaths Grian tried to look for connection in the Nosy Neighbors, but it wasn’t the same.

In Secret Life Grian was desperate to find allies, even going far enough the ask the one man that started this whole mess of self destruction. But when Grian finally finds Etho and Cleo, he again tries to be aloof. He even states himself that he’s a wanderer, that he has no ally ties (I forget his exact wording). But he very obviously cares for both Etho and Cleo, again sticking by them until the end and ensuring their safety to the best of his abilities. But again, he outlives them and dies alone.

And finally, we have Wild Life. The Spanners were close, Grian desperately trying to get the other two kills in order to survive. No matter what though, the curse continues. Mumbo and Skizz die because of Grian’s tower, Mumbo exploding and Skizz falling. You can ever further see Grian’s desperation in allies when he is searching for more friends immediately after both of their deaths. Grian isn’t a completely loyal ally, but he wants to be. He wants to put his complete trust in a friend and be able to depend on them. But all his past experiences tell him that doing that will only get him hurt. In all his relationships, the Widow curse persists and leaves him with only regrets and tragedy. Grian can’t escape the curse, so all he can do is try and protect himself the best he can. He does this by keeping people at arms length, waiting for their untimely demise, even possibly dying by Grian himself. He builds walls around himself, even if he so desperately wants to take a sledge hammer to them.

#life series #desert duo #grian #gtwscar #third life #last life #double life #limited life #secret life #wild life smp #character analysis #wild life spoilers #watcher lore #hermitcraft #minecraft #Scarsbythecranewivestotallyreflecsthisbtw

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eternalguk · 10 hours ago

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Before Sunday Ends | jjk. (M)

I love you the first time, I love you the last time.

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : With scents of vanilla lingering in the air. With the comforting sound of Jungkook cooking. And, with a deep, unspoken connection that needs no words... you find yourself falling in love with Jungkook all over again.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, slice of life au, boyfriend.jk & teacher!reader (just slight references)

↠ Word count : 4.5k

↠ Warnings : flirting (you make cringe!), kissing, making out, mentions of shirtless Jungkook, mentions of food / cooking, making out, shower!sex (he fucks her from behind), unprotected!sex, a small spank for oc, mentions of hickey’s, Jungkook has a filthy mouth, Jungkook himself. (I think that’s everything, please let me know if I miss something).

↠ A/n : hi there ; happy Sunday 🤍 although it is not officially winter, the start of December usually is for me! So, as we roll into a month of wintery nights and frosty mornings, I hope that boyfriend!jungkook can bring you comfort 🫶🏻. Your feedback will be appreciated & happy reading 🦢!

The pale light of an early winter afternoon filters through the frosted windows, casting a cool, silvery glow across your cozy apartment. The faint rustle of an icy breeze stirs the heavy curtains, their edges lifting slightly to allow the crisp, earthy scent of the season to seep in.

It is a rare, lazy Sunday morning—perfectly quiet except for the sounds coming from the kitchen, where your boyfriend is busying himself.

Jungkooks back is to you as he moves about with casual grace, preparing something simple yet comforting. You haven’t even asked him what he is cheffing up, knowing he would insist it is a surprise.

The sizzle of food in the pan mixes with the occasional clink of dishes, but the atmosphere itself is quiet, serene. The kind of peace that only comes when two people are so deeply in tune with each other that words are unnecessary.

And that is exactly what life with Jungkook is.

You watch him from the couch, your heart swelling with a mixture of affection and contentment. The past feels like a distant memory, the scars that once felt so raw now healed by the warmth of his love. He had been patient with you. Gentle and understanding. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word had woven you back together, piece by piece, until you felt whole again.

You stretch out with your blanket, trying to relax, but the stack of unmarked essays on the coffee table keep catching your eye. With a resigned sigh, you reach forward, fingertips just brushing through the papers when Jungkook’s voice floats from the kitchen.

“Yah, don’t even think about it,” he calls out, not even bothering to turn around.

You still, knowing you’ve been caught, and huf out a laugh. “How did you even know?”

“Because it’s Sunday and you always try to sneak in grading,” he taunts, still facing the stove as he flips something in a sizzling pan.

What is he even cooking?

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he finishes off before cracking open another window.

“I am resting. I just thought I’d get a head start…” you reply. Though the defense is weak even to your own ears.

“Mhm,” he immediately acknowledges your defence, clearly unconvinced. “What happened to the deal we made a couple of nights ago? Sundays are for us. No grading, no lesson plans, no sneaking off to answer emails.”

Speaking of emails…

“Yah! I know what you’re thinking.”

You roll your eyes playfully, leaning back and propping your chin on your hand. “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk…” Your brain racks for something to taunt Jungkook about.

“Mr. Timer-for-Everything,” you teass, “Bet you’ve already set three timers for each step, haven’t you?”

You could’ve done better than this, but it’ll do.

“Excuse me, but this is a very precise art. Unlike someone, I don’t wing it.” You could almost hear Jungkook’s smile as he stirred the contents of his pan.

You grin yourself. “So precise that you can catch me reaching for my work without looking?”

Jungkook sets the spatula down and finally turns around, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

Oh, his beautiful face.

“I’m good like that, babe.” He wipes his hands on a towel and walks over, stopping just in front of the couch. “Now, hand over the papers.”

You hold them closer to your chest in mock defiance, eyes twinkling. “Make me.”

Jungkook shakes his head, amusement dancing in his gaze, as he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

The warmth of it had barely registered before he begins to pull away, but you quickly hook your arms around his neck, pulling him back down and deepening the kiss.

His mouth is warm and soft, and just as you feel him starting to reciprocate it with his usual energy, Jungkook pulls back with a reluctant laugh.

“Ah—wait, wait,” your boyfriend chuckles, breaking free as you frown. “My timer for the onions is about to go off.”

You snort as he scurries back to the stove, shaking your head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you time every single step. It’s like cooking is a military operation for you.”

Jungkook flashes a smile over his bare shoulder. You almost feel guilty for wearing his t-shirt, but the breathtaking view of his back makes you feel otherwise.

“Hey, it’s a form of respect for the ingredients, you know? Plus, this way I know it’ll taste good.” He glances at the sizzling onions with a contented look, before turning back to you, more serious. “Just like you know taking a break makes you a better teacher, so… no more work today, okay?”

If only your school cared this much about your wellbeing.

You bits back a smile at his soft, affectionate tone. “Okay, okay. You win.”

You were truly so blessed to have Jungkook in your life. A million reminders will never be enough.

Satisfied, Jungkook sends a boyish grin your way before returning his attention to the stove, a sense of warmth filling the room as the smell of caramelising onions and spices floated through the air. As you watch him, you feel your heart swell a little.

Sundays like this weren’t just a break—they were a reminder of everything you shared. And maybe, just maybe, that was worth more than any head start on grading.

An hour had passed and you had become bored of endlessly scrolling through TikTok. Having tried reading a book, browsing through Netflix and messaging your friends, you decided to settle for your favourite pastime. Ogling your beloved boyfriend.

Jungkook must have sensed your gaze because he turned around, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What?” he asks, his voice a low, affectionate rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Just admiring the view,” you respond, grinning as you stretched lazily on the couch. The sunset lamplight caught in your hair, giving you an ethereal glow that makes his heart skip a beat.

He chuckles, before putting away the last dish and making his way over to you. Jungkook had insisted that he would wash the dishes today as well, not letting you lift a finger.

“I think that’s my line,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. His kiss is slow, lingering, and filled with unspoken promises. Exactly what you needed before.

When he pulls back, his dark eyes search yours, as if he is still trying to comprehend how someone like you could love him so completely. You cup his soft face, thumb brushing lightly over the scar on his cheekbone. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know, baby,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “I love you more.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment, simply basking in each other’s presence, the world outside forgotten. Flirtatious gazes being exchanged, having an effect on both of you even years later.

Eventually, Jungkook slides onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his lap with a playful tug. You laugh, the sound bright and carefree, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you close.

You trace the tattoos on his arm with your fingertips, your touch feather-light. Each mark tells a story, and you loved how they were a part of him, just like you were now. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Desserts almost ready, but it can wait,” he mumbles, his voice thick with the lazy drawl of a man completely at ease.

Dessert. Yes, you heard that right. Jungkook had spoilt you so much. What had you done to deserve him?

You nod in agreement, turning your head just enough to catch his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more insistent, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt for you in that single moment. His hands move to your waist, holding you tight, and you feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, a comforting presence that grounds you.

The warmth of the fireplace fills the room, wrapping around you like a blanket, and the world outside faded even further. All that matters is the two of you, lost in the quiet rhythm of your breaths, the gentle hum of life moving around you.

Jungkook’s kisses grow more urgent, his hands wandering, exploring, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You feel a familiar warmth pool in your stomach, a spark igniting between you that has nothing to do with the setting sun. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft, ragged bursts.

“Stay with me?” he asks, his voice a soft plea, his eyes coloured with emotion.

“Always,” you whisper back, your heart racing in time with his. You now feel the early winter chill spilling from the cracks in your window sill, but it doesn’t matter. With Jungkook, every chill and every breeze feels like a form of comfort.

He kisses you again, and this time there is no mistaking the intent behind it. His hands moved with a newfound urgency, tugging gently at your clothes, (his t-shirt) and you feel yourself responding in kind, your body melting against his. There’s something intoxicating about the way Jungkook touches you, so reverent, and so completely in love.

Jungkook’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your back as he pulled you closer, his gaze warm and heavy-lidded. You were both tangled up in each other, basking in the soft glow of fireplace. He lets out a sigh, his hand pausing.

“I really, really want to keep this going…” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “But I keep smelling the onions from earlier.”

You blink, caught off-guard, and feel your face flush. “Then… well, go shower,” you reply, stumbling over your words. “It’s fine! There’s, um… the whole evening left.”

“Whole evening left for what?” Jungkook flirts.

“Yah~”

Jungkook laughs, giving you a look, before his lips curve up in that signature teasing smile of his. “Or…” he begins, voice laced with suggestion, “you can just join me?”

Your face heats even more, and you bite your lip, looking away. “I—uh—I mean…”

He laughs, tipping his head to the side to catch your eye. “Come on, jagi. You don’t have to be shy with me,” he says softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Besides, I think you need a break from that whole evening plan you’re making in your head.”

You let out a breathy laugh, finally meeting his gaze. “Oh, so you know my plans now?”

Jungkook nods, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “I can read you like a book,” he mutters, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss just below your jaw. “And right now, that book is saying… maybe a shower with my hot and sexy boyfriend wouldn’t be so bad.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at his goofiness, but you feel yourself melting under his gaze. His hand slips into yours as he sits up, pulling you with him to head upstairs.

“After all,” he says with a playful glint in his eye, “we do have the whole evening left.”

“Why is this still on?” Jungkook grunts, walking you backwards into the running shower as he practically rips off your t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

You gasp, the cold finally hitting you. Jungkook smirks seeing the shirt on the floor. He was in for a ride.

His hand tightly grips your jaw in place, noses touching as his hot, minty breath fans your face. His mouth captures yours in a fast, rhythmic movement as he undoes your red lace bra he chose himself earlier today.

All you had done was suggest there was a whole evening left. And now?

Now, you are watching your boyfriend hiss in delight as he feels the warm water run over his sore muscles. Jungkook throws his head back, groaning as he presses your naked self closer to his toned body.

He turns back to stare down at you, sending a wink your way before he dips his head into the junction of your head and shoulder, pressing slow and sensual kisses up your skin. You moan whilst craning your neck, craving more of his sinful mouth as his veiny hands wrap around you.

Jungkook unhurriedly drags his tongue up your pulse point, spontaneously biting down as you reel. He continues pressing gentle kisses until he reaches your ear.

“My baby’s enjoying this, isn’t she?” he whispers with his mellifluous voice, knowing how sensitive it makes you. It sends a shiver down your spine, eyes shutting tightly which only spurs Jungkook on further. “Guess I’ve found a better form of stress relief for you. I should’ve known.”

You purr when he takes your earlobe between his plush lips, suckling the soft flesh in his hot mouth. He doesn’t miss the chance to breathe into your ear again, knowing it’ll only arouse you further.

Jungkook grabs your ass, pulling you closer. His semi-hard cock rubs against your stomach, eliciting heat to run through your core. You reach for his hair, pulling at it as you yearn for more. He groans, backing away from your neck, hovering his lips against yours. He pecks you twice before taking both of your hands and pinning them against the steamy shower wall.

You glance up to your restrained hands, pouting at not being able to touch Jungkook. He notices your pursed lips, smiling to himself at your cuteness before letting them go and cascading his own down your body to your backside.

“Can we fuck?” he asks you shamelessly as he kneads your ass with his rough hands.

“You know it’s never a no from me, baby,” you tip-toe, whispering into his ear. About time you gave him the same energy back.

You run your fingers up and down his biceps with a knowing smirk.

“God, I missed this,” he rasps in his husky voice before reaching down to kiss you intensely. Jungkook touches you all over as he grinds his built, wet body against yours in the most seductive way. The scorch water cascades down his body making him look hotter than usual.

“We literally just had sex yesterday ,” you snort whilst pulling away from him.

Jungkook isn’t pleased with your comment and he shows this by diving for your neck and biting, making you moan indulgently in his hold. Your knees buckle, but his strong grip on your hips stops you from slipping.

“Fuck, babe,” you groan out as the sting spreads. You dig your nails into his toned arms, letting him know how good you feel. Jungkook removes his mouth from your pulse point, instead pressing soft kisses against your jawline, contradicting his previous ministrations.

“You always taste so good,” he hoarsely whispers, “I’ll never get enough of you,” he adds before he joins your lips again. Jungkook mouths at you sensually, kissing you with an insatiable force that leaves you breathless when you pull away.

You throw your head back, arching into him. Jungkook knows you need more and smirks at you falling into your usual state of submission around him.

“Wan’ more,” you whine. Jungkook reaches forward and presses kisses against the column of your throat. You drag your nails down his chest, evoking a playful growl from your boyfriend.

“More?” Jungkook teases you. You quickly nod, moaning his name, hoping it would provoke him to provide you with the relief you desperately need.

Jungkook brings his tattooed hand to cup your breast in his palm, eliciting another needy moan from you. He hisses pleasurably at your lewd sigh as you twitch in his hold.

“All mine to play with, huh?” he whispers in his low-pitched voice as he fondles your breast, dipping his head down to them to press open-mouthed kisses.

Jungkook decorates your skin with dark, flourishing hickies and you can only hope that they fade before you have to return to your responsibilities.

You feel Jungkook lightly smirk against you when you let out a sultry sound.

“My sensitive princess,” he says as his breath tickles your ear, leaving you to feel more aroused and dizzy.

You physically feel your pussy gush as your body buzzes due to the unmitigated affect your lover has on you.

“Kook, please,” you whine loudly, needing to feel him inside you before you combust untouched. You crave for this man as if you haven’t just been having sex from the moment he carried you inside your bathroom.

“Wanna turn around so I can fuck my princess how she deserves to be fucked?” he sighs out against your lips before joining them together for the umpteenth time that day.

You move your hands to cup Jungkook’s cheeks whilst you gaze at him with imploring eyes, showing him immediately that you’re extremely needy.

“You’re so fucking hot, babe,” he exhales wistfully, smothering his lips with yours again for an all too chaste kiss.

Jungkook tilts his head further to nibble on your plush lower lip, his skillful tongue.

“Want you in me, baby,” you prompt him urgently, “wan’ your big cock.”

Jungkook is quick to comply, hastily tightening his grip on your waist, “Go on then baby, turn around for me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, shifting so your face presses to the fogged wall of the shower. You glance over your shoulder fleetingly, admiring your boyfriend’s personable build.

His perfectly sculpted body that glistens underneath the water, jet black hair cut sexily short, beautifully tattooed arm and damn eyebrow piercing he got recently has you feeling giddy all over again, the same intoxicating effect from your college days together.

You can’t wait to marry this man.

Jungkook sweeps his wet hair back and you moan again, the heat of the shower water making him more delectable than before. The most erotic thoughts flood your mind and you grow more impatient, anticipating his next move.

He catches you staring at him and a mirthy smile graces his face as he grabs hold of his length, pumping himself a few times. His tip painfully glints a burning red and it leaves a heavy ache in your core, making you press your legs together to provide yourself with temporary relief.

Jungkook catches you off-guard, grabbing hold of your hips and yanking you back so your ass presses against him. You jump at his sudden attack, peeking behind only to see him wear a shit-eating grin on his face.

He drags the palm of his large hand down your smooth back, relishing in your silky smooth skin. “So fucking sexy,” he mutters, “and all mine.”

Reaching for your ass, he slaps it playfully, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

“Kook, please,” you groan out of frustration. He softly apologises before rubbing his hard-on against your ass, stepping closer to press the length of his girthy cock against your soaked folds. The sensation is strong enough to bring you back to reality.

Jungkook is going to fuck you and fuck you good.

Your legs part on their own as you arch your back, offering your ass to your husband shamelessly.

Jungkook curses at the salacious scene before him, pressing his cock further into you and somehow growing harder.

“Fucking incredible,” he rasps with his mellow voice, “ready?”

“Jus’ fuck me, Kook. You’ve got me all soaked.”

“Fuck, so hot,” Jungkook groans as he rubs the tip of his hard cock up and down your dripping pussy. He reaches your hole, teasing it as you moan for him to give you more.

“Gonna stretch you out so good, baby,” he mumbles more to himself, goading you with a gentle pressure that’s enough to rile you up.

“Quickly,” you urge him once again by arching more and wiggling your ass against him, tired of his unnecessary teasing.

Your boyfriend finally decides to push against you, sliding his cock past your folds, burying himself deep within you. The two of you groan at the lewd feeling.

Jungkook lets out a guttural moan as he watches the view of him entering your tight pussy. He hears you let out the most sinful sounds as you bask in the feeling of him filling you up whole.

“Jungkoook...”

“Fuck, the way you moan my name,” he breathes out as he buries himself to the hilt, hips rolling into you with the deepest of strokes.

Jungkook fits into you snuggly, grinding in you with small and precise thrusts. His fingers dig into your hips, his eyes fixated on the soft and plump swell of your ass.

He groans satisfyingly, watching his cock slip in and out of you easily, hard thighs rubbing against the back of yours in the most euphoric way.

“J-Jungkook, fuck, always so big.” You whimper, your entire body craving more of him.

“But my good girl takes it so well, doesn’t she?” he praises you, shutting his eyes underneath the hot, steamy water. Jungkook gasps, dipping his head into your shoulder and letting it rest there as he begins to smack his hips into yours relentlessly. He feels your walls flutter and tries hard to contain his load and not shoot it inside you just yet.

“Moree..” you plead, body shaking with utmost pleasure.

Jungkook complies, going deeper as he hits the best spots inside you. You press your temple against the tiled wall as he fucks you with languid, steady strokes. You feel his cock throb inside you, moaning his name again.

“Harder..” you mewl, compelling him to growl as he provides you with forceful thrusts, letting out the most animalistic of growls when he hears you cry out in delight. His tattooed arm reaches forward, veiny hand gripping your breast, pinching your hardened nipple as he presses sloppy kisses just behind your ear.

“Gonna fuck you so hard everyday,” Jungkook pants, thrusting with more fidelity as your walls pulse around him, “for your wellbeing of course,” he swears breathlessly.

You’re so caught up in being pleasured, you don’t even laugh at his joke.

He knows you are getting close and snakes his other hand down to your clit, rubbing vigorously as he drives you closer towards the edge, eliciting the most whiny moans out from you.

“Mmm, Koo’ you feel so, so good,” you cry out as he rams his cock further into your wet mess, groaning at the sensation. His delicious abuse on your engorged clit makes you hiss out in pleasure.

“Your wet pussy feels so good, baby,” Jungkook moans out as he continues his onslaught, pulling you back onto him.

“Holy shit, Jungkook,” you whine, knees buckling at the savouring drag of his appetising length.

“Right there, baby?”

“Oh God, yea..” you moan, nodding your head incessantly.

You mewl again, arousal spilling out of you, but Jungkook fucks it right back in. He pinches your nipple again whilst simultaneously teasing your clit. Jungkook sucks a hickey on your shoulder blade, cum aching his heavy balls as he pumps into your soaked walls.

You throw your head back onto his shoulder, stretching your hand to tug at the short tendrils of his hair. Jungkook knows exactly what you mean without you having said any words.

“Wann’ see you, baby,” you whimper, “need to feel you more..”

Jungkook groans at your neediness, pulling out of you fairly quickly, both of you wincing at the loss of warmth. He wastes no time in turning you around and lifting you up, deeply penetrating you again as he continues with the same, brisk pace as before. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you so your foreheads touch.

“All mine,” he growls, “only mine.”

“Only yours, baby,” you purr, “all yours to fuck.”

Jungkook moans deeper as you begin to grind against him, clinging onto him firmly as you attempt to alleviate the burning pressure that shoots through your core. He knows you’re closer than ever, hearing your moans turn into gasps.

“Fill me up first, babe,” you manage to whimper out of yourself. You crave to feel full of his cum, squeezing against him to urge him more.

“Ah shit!” he grunts, orgasm hitting him as his hot cum shoots inside you, painting your insides white, shoving his face in your shoulder.

Jungkook sneaks his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he repeatedly pecks your pulse point. He is mindful of your sensitivity, allowing you to relax before he picks up his pace again.

“Wanna ruin you, my love.”

You’re at a loss of words, the only thing on your mind being that you’re once again being fucked full of Jungkook’s cum. He reaches down to place more hickies on your neck as his eyes remain glued to where you both connect. He watches your stomach clench and relax with pleasure, throbbing hard he fears he might shoot his second load into you before you can have your first release.

You sob and wail, clutching onto him further. Jungkook snakes his hand back down to your clit, rubbing against it as he tries to urge you to squirt around his cock.

“Close?” he asks you as he grunts, rubbing your clit harder and faster. You inform him yes through quick nods, eyebrows furrowing as the pleasure overtakes you completely.

“Come all over me, angel. All over my cock,” he demands with a growl against your open mouth, rutting against you in a frantic manner.

You clench down on him as you release with a mix of your boyfriend’s names and curse words. You ride out your climax with him and he puts less pressure on your clit as he watches you in your throes of pleasure.

His confidence shoots up, smirking at the way you scream his name over and over whilst squirting out both his and your mess.

“Fuck, that was incredible.” You’re breathless as you carefully slip out of his hold, leaning against his broad chest for support.

Jungkook pulls you into him, pressing soft kisses against the crown of your head as he praises you for how good you were for him. Your chest swells with pride, feeling shy as you curve further into his warm body.

He reaches to turn the shower off, dipping his head down to litter soft kisses over the hickies he made. You pull him back to face you with his hair and he nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

You feel him still slightly hard against your stomach and chuckle to yourself.

“Wanna fuck me again, baby?” you ask him with suggestive eyes, “Bedroom though, I can’t stand here any longer.”

Jungkook gulps, nodding his head fervently.

“Fuck, you’re in for it, Mrs. Jeon,” is all that leaves his mouth. You become shy as you hear you favourite nickname.

Jungkook flashes you his signature smirk before abruptly lifting you and taking you towards your shared bedroom, whispering all he’s going to do to you.

The things you do before Sunday ends.

Thank you for reading 🦢! Please do leave me some feedback; it motivates me to write 🫶🏻. Have a lovely week ahead. Sundays can be so difficult for me, so I hope this makes you feel better if you also get the Sunday scaries :)

#bts fics #bts smut #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fanfics #bts fanfics #jeongguk smut

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starrieisdelusional · 2 days ago

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How the Paopu Fruit Relates to Sora and Riku

a Soriku Endgame KH4 prediction

This is part of my soriku endgame kh4 prediction series, a series where i'll try to dissect all of the arguments made about soriku, and what it means for future installments. In part 1, we will discuss about how the paopu fruit relates to sora and riku.

This started out as screaming at soriku twitter, and when i finally connected the dots, i can't help but make an analysis about it because i haven't really seen any blogs that discuss about the paopu fruit + soriku in depth.

I assumed you have somewhat a prior knowledge of soriku as I'll be taking a lot of arguments from theories and deep dives. I'll try to make this as brief as possible and try to make this easy to read for all of us who have ADHD (me).

But if you want the short version:

From the evidence given, the paopu fruit is a symbolism for riku-sora-kairi love triangle. However, this analysis argues that the context of the paopu fruit for sokai is platonic, while for soriku it is romantic.

Because of this, i believe that one day, soriku will share 1 paopu fruit with each other as sora's final answer to the love triangle.

With that being said, let's finally talk about the paopu fruit

Start of Theory

paopu in a platonic context

The paopu fruit, is a fruit that intertwines destiny if two person decides to share it. Kind of like a soulmate cheat.

" Selphie: Hey, Sora. Have you heard about the legendary power of the paopu fruit? They say if you share it with someone you really care for, it binds you together forever and ever, through eternity! (sighs) It's so romantic. I gotta try it sometime. "

The paopu fruit has somewhat been considered as the series staple for romance. However the paopu can be viewed as romantic or platonic depending on the situation. Kingdom Hearts never said that paopu is meant to be romantic-only.

An example of paopu being platonic, is when it was used by Aqua to metaphorically describe the wayfinder charm, that binds Terra-Ventus-Aqua together, just like how the paopu works.

Aqua: Somewhere out there, there's this tree with star-shaped fruit... and the fruit represents an unbreakable connection. So as long as you and your friends carry good luck charms shaped like it, nothing can ever drive you apart. You’ll always find your way back to each other. Technically, I think you’re supposed to make them with seashells, but I did the best I could with what I had.

important keywords

The paopu fruit is related to a few things which includes:

Desitny: a fruit that binds destiny (or fate)

Star: The paopu fruit is in the shape of a star, which can also symbolize destiny.

Promise: a reminder of the promise that you made with that person you share your destiny with

A good luck charm: to ensure that no matter what, you won’t ever be separated, because your destinies are intertwined

Sea: a fruit that is native to Destiny Islands, that can be replicated by thalassa shells to make a good luck charm

kairi's relation to paopu fruit

At face value, the fruit is obviously related to Kairi, given how Kairi’s character is related to destiny, the star symbol, a promise, a good luck charm, and her name that translates to sea (海). Further elaboration of kairi's relation to the fruit:

Kairi came to destiny island by a meteor shower (or shooting stars)

Sora and Kairi’s cave drawing (star crossed lovers)

Oathkeeper (the blade is the shape of a star) or 約束のお守り Yakusoku no Omamori Promise Charm

Destiny’s Embrace (the keychain is a paopu)

Thalassa Shell Charm (in the shape of a star)

Separation and the promise never forget

Wayfinder Trio (owns a charm inspired by the thalassa (star) and came from outside of Destiny Island)

And finally, does the act of sharing the paopu fruit with sora in kh3

sokai kh3 mistranslation scene

sora-kairi's relationship in the lens of a paopu fruit is considered to be platonic with the argument: The act of sharing the paopu between kairi and sora in kh3 if you take the scene in a japanese lense:

it is kairi who initiates the thing

if anything, Sora looks so taken aback when kairi shoved the fruit in front of his face (he was looking at riku), but calms down once Kairi assures him that this is just a good luck charm to ensure that they wont be separated in battle

TR What’s R*ku doing all by himself?; TR Here!

Serves as a wrap up to sora and kairi’s arc as the realization of sokai's cave drawing

There’s even a version where this doesn’t exist at all?! (based on an interview done with their VAs, nomura made them take two takes, one with paopu, one not with paopu)

speaking romantically, if this is considered as their tie the knot scene it feels like it came out of no where because why didn't they just follow it up after kh1? why wait about 20 years to do it when there's multiple instances to develop sokai's relationship over the years aside from good luck charm

Serves as a wrap up to sora and kairi’s arc as the realization of sokai's cave drawing

There’s even a version where this doesn’t exist at all?! (based on an interview done with their VAs, nomura made them take two takes, one with paopu, one not with paopu)

if you squint, the legend says when the person shares 1 paopu fruit, so why does sora and kairi shares 2 here?

the thalassa, the crown, and the paopu

Now, going back to kairi's strong relationship with the paopu. (Notice how i say kairi's strong relationship with the paopu? ) There are multiple instances of the paopu being related to just kairi, when sora is not present (see kairi's relation to paopu fruit above) Therefore, the paopu fruit is more of a representation of KAIRI ALONE, not sora and kairi.

If anything, SORA AND KAIRI is represented more by the variant of the paopu: the thalassa charm, that is unique to sora and kairi only, as the only time the thalassa shell appears is if a scene involves Sora, Kairi, Xion, and Roxas.

Which parallels SORA AND RIKU crown necklace 'good luck charm', that is exclusively unique to them (necklace theory). Which is why Oathkeeper has the thalassa charm, not a paopu fruit.

Unlike how the paopu fruit is treated (pluck, eat/throw), both the thalassa shell (that came from the sea) and the kingdom crown (that came from land, riku 陸 shore) has been carefully and uniquely modified to sora.

The paopu fruit also grows exclusively on destiny islands, on a beach, near the shores where water and land met. And unlike the thalassa shells and kingdom crown that can be made on their own area, paopu fruit cannot exist without water and land.

Both the thalassa shells and kingdom crown are either rarely appears or never mentioned (like at all...) outside of SORA AND KAIRI and SORA AND RIKU, the paopu fruit is used more frequently, appearing everywhere, anywhere, and is used by every person in the game... including riku.

See what I'm getting here? Paopu fruit is the embodiment of riku-sora-kairi love triangle. Not a symbol for Sora and Kairi. It is important to also note that the paopu's dynamic only reflects

riku->sora and kairi->sora.

Namine's fake charm also contributed to this (if we are going by the believe that she's trying to insert herself to kairi and riku's messy love triangle, pls necklace theory and aitsu). Namine turns sokai's thalassa charm into a fake paopu fruit. So this charm became a mutant variation of Kairi's thalassa and Riku's crown.

And now where I'll back up aitsu and necklace theory: Again the form that came up is a paopu fruit. if we were to delete those theories into our narrative (meaning that namine is only inserting herself as kairi), it does not make sense, because why would she conjured up a paopu that has a messy relation with sokai?? why not a variant of a thalassa shell?? why not a drawing? a painting? why the paopu specifically? where no one else can be involved other than riku->sora?

riku's relation to paopu fruit

Unlike kairi, the use of paopu fruit with riku is almost to none (which is probably the reason why no one had really talked in-depth about this) so here are a few instances that it appears:

Terra and Aqua just so happen to find SORA AND RIKU on Destiny Islands after interacting with paopu fruit back in BBS

Riku 'teasing' Sora about who gets to share the paopu with Kairi

Sora and Repliku's fake paopu charm

GaybladeTM COMBINED: Isn't it odd that the key chain turns to paopu fruit when sora and riku combine their hearts together?? even though Kairi had 0 thing to do with it?? Even though this is an exclusive SORA AND RIKU thing? Even though we agreed that the paopu rarely ever appeared alongside riku?

*presence of kingdom crown

Note that all of the instances that i've jotted down, always rarely occurred, and has only been present.... when SORA AND RIKU are around.

One reason alludes that paopu only appears whenever soriku are in sync, another is because of riku's forgotten VOW (chikai) (see necklace theory, chikai & don't think twice, to sum it up chikai or vow is riku's version of kairi's promise (yakusoku), chikai in another context is the kh3 music that came from riku POV to sora).

A third is because Riku is the opposite of paopu, his whole identity defies destiny. He is an oathbreaker (opposite of kairi's Oathkeeper). He litterally destroys destiny island, altering sora and kairi's fates. The opposite of sea...

So following that logic, the paopu should be viewed as romantic when viewing Riku->Sora

soriku and the paopu

we finally arrived to the final chapter of my lengthy analysis. so, how does this affect soriku in future installments?

i believe that one day, soriku will (either in KH5 or KH4) share 1 paopu fruit with each-other, and it will be Sora who offers the fruit to riku as his final say to the triangle. The reasons why are:

a nod to kairi who initiates the offer to sora in kh3, with sokai's case, sora is technically the first who propose the fruit via cave drawing that he done in secret at the beginning of KH1. It wasn't actually until the end of the game that kairi saw that drawing and realized: WOW! Sora wanted to share the fruit, with ME??? (because the drawing is hidden in a cave...?)

this parallels to how Riku 'jokingly', not so smoothly, try to rizz Sora at the beginning of KH1 (nearly identical timelines) and basically try to trap sora into sharing the paopu with him. Notice that in this period, soriku still aren't 100% in sync and are still dancing around / masking their feelings for the other(it isn't until kh2 that they started to re-bonded, being more affectionate and honest)

that scene is also an interpretation of how paopu should be viewed as romantic (following riku->sora = paopu romantic), notice how i always stressed riku->sora, kairi->sora, and never kairi<-sora, riku<-sora?

despite being the center of it all, sora's relationship with the paopu fruit is neutral to say, not really leaning torwards one or the other (maybe kairi but it slowly changes)

it's Sora's final answer to riku-sora-kairi love triangle war that had been going on for 20 years, sora had already rejected kairi's romantic advances, choosing to stay as friends, a slot for a gf is still available....

i have a theory this is soriku leaning because sora had been abusing the power of waking that he got to mess with reality, (check sleeping realm) so now he's leaning on the defier-of-destiny side

soriku sharing ONE NOT TWO fruit to finally do the legend as intended, because in sokai's beta-testing (the cave drawing), it's sora give kairi, kairi give sora.

Meanwhile in soriku's beta testing ('riku's pathetic attempt at rizzing')

riku: *yeets the fruit to sora*

sora: *throws fruit away*

(sokai 2 fruits soriku 1 fruit, sokai 2 fruits soriku 1 fruit, sokai 2 soriku 1, SOKAI 2 SORIKU 1)

THE END!!!!

Okay we have actually reach the end!!! great job sorikus!! tysm for listening to my ted-talk!! i hope you like it

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bl-bracket · 2 days ago

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Ok so I'm still in the process of making round 1 (got all the back end stuff done, just need to make the actual polls which can take a couple hours) but I've had yet ANOTHER idea for a kind of bl gimmick blog thing that I wanted to share

So have y'all heard of 6 Degrees of Separation? basically it's a whole concept of every person in the world being connected through 6 degrees of separation max (so a knows b who knows c who knows d etc). But then there was also a spin off that I remember hearing about a while back called 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon, where it was the claim that Kevin Bacon had worked with everyone in Hollywood within max 6 movies (so Kevin was in movie a which also featured actor z who was also in movie b which featured director y who was also in movie c etc). There was even a website

The idea is then to create a version of this for Thai dramas, cause like there is a ton of cast overlap in the ql world at least, and I feel like you can connect a lot of Thai dramas together within 6 degrees.

My original thought was like connecting it by dramas. So for example going from like Kinnporsche to Fish Upon the Sky and trying to find the most direct line of connection between the two shows. The other idea is to just connect it between actors themselves. So like Tor Thanapob to Jeff Satur.

What would this information accomplish? not much but it's fun for me to look up and cool to see how connected everything is

Anyways I already play this game a lot with myself when I need to search up stuff on mdl. Sometimes when I'm already on the page of a Thai drama, I hop around to try to get to the next one by doing this.

The idea then would be a blog where I would show the connections. I could randomize some but people could also request for me to find the connections between two dramas or actors.

The reason why I'd keep it to just Thai dramas is that other country's qls don't tend to draw from the same pool of actors as much, so it would require navigating through a lot of stuff blindly on my end. It could be done, but would require someone more familiar with that country's dramas/movies at large and not just their ql stuff (which is what I mainly know).

anyways does anyone else find this conceptually interesting or am I just alone in a sea of my particular brand of autism lol

#not a poll

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mxnsterbabe · 3 days ago

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Male Gargoyle/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 6,091 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist Part 1 (here), Part 2 (coming soon!)

You're a new volunteer at the halfway house and a dear friend of Esmeralda; you expected working here to be tough, but you didn’t expect to fall in love with one of the monsters seeking shelter here.

The halfway house loomed in front of you like something out of a gothic novel, all sprawling stone and ivy creeping up the walls. The rain had turned to a light drizzle, just enough to make the night feel colder than it should.

Tugging your jacket tighter, you glanced up at the carved arches of the doorway, wondering—not for the first time—if you were out of your depth. Then the door swung open, and there she was.

“Finally!” Esmeralda’s voice carried like a warm embrace. Her smile flashed sharp and bright, and even though you knew what she was, it still startled you to see her teeth. “You’re late.”

You laughed, stepping into her embrace without hesitation. Her arms were cool against you, but that was Esmeralda—cool to the touch, always warm in her way. “Blame the weather,” you said. “The train was slow, and so am I when it comes to resisting bakery stops.”

She pulled back and gave you a knowing look. “I told you to bring something. If you didn’t, I’ll be forced to scold you.”

You reached into your bag and produced a paper-wrapped box. “Raspberry tarts,” you said smugly. “Because I know you too well.”

Esmeralda’s grin widened as she plucked the box from your hands. “You do, darling. This is why we’re friends.”

Friends was a soft word for what you were. Not many humans knew what Esmeralda was, and even fewer stuck around once they did. You’d never cared. She had saved your life once, and you owed her for that. Besides, the world was far more interesting with a vampire for a best friend.

She stepped back and gestured for you to come inside. The house was just as impressive on the inside as it was on the outside. High ceilings, dark wood, and the kind of place that felt like it should come with a ghost or two.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” she said, leading you down the wide hallway. Her dark hair bounced as she walked. “The timing is perfect.”

“It always is. Sometimes, I think fate brings us together at just the right time. Every time.”

The place buzzed with quiet energy. You caught movement from the corner of your eye—something tall and shadowed slipping into another room.

Esmeralda waved a hand dismissively, either at your comment or whatever you thought you’d seen. “This time, it really is. I have some associates who could help us secure long-term funding, but they’re going to need convincing.” Her heels clicked against the floor, echoing through the hall as she stopped by an arched doorway and turned to face you. “That’s where you come in.”

“Me?” You blinked. “You want me to dazzle some vampires into handing over cash?”

“Not quite.” She smirked. “You’re a journalist. I need you to help record the residents’ stories. Show the work we do here—how important it is. You’re good at that, and the residents need to socialise with someone they don’t see day in, day out.”

You hesitated, looking around again. The house had a strange, quiet pull to it. “You think they’ll open up?”

“They will.” Her smile softened, just enough to feel genuine. “They just need a reason to.”

Esmeralda gestured for you to follow her further into the house, her heels clicking rhythmically on the wooden floor. “I think you’ll find the residents are more varied than you might expect,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. “This place doesn’t just offer shelter—it’s a second chance for some, a lifeline for others. If we’re going to convince my associates to fund us, they need to see the real impact we’ve had.”

You nodded, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “You think their stories will do the trick?”

“They will,” she replied firmly. “Though it depends on how well you can connect with them. Some are easy to talk to. Others... less so.”

Before you could ask what that meant, a blur of movement caught your eye. A small figure came rushing down the hallway towards you, barefoot and clutching something to her chest.

The girl skidded to a stop just inches from colliding with you, her mossy green hair clinging damply to her face. Wide, watery grey eyes darted between you and Esmeralda, her pale cheeks flushing an earthy pink.

“Oh! I-I’m sorry!” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifted nervously from foot to foot, clutching what looked like a shiny silver trinket against her chest. “I didn’t mean to... I wasn’t looking where I...”

“It’s alright,” you said, smiling to put her at ease. You crouched slightly, meeting her eye level. “No harm done. You all right?”

The girl nodded quickly but didn’t speak again. Esmeralda placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her tone soft. “Maisie, this is the friend I told you about. She’s here to help us tell our stories.” She turns to me. “I thought you might like to start with Maisie?”

Maisie’s mossy hair swayed as she shook her head rapidly, eyes wide with alarm. “Oh, no, no. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Maisie’s an open book,” Esmeralda said to you, ignoring the girl’s protest. “Shy, but sweet as they come. Or,” she added with a hum, “you could start with Laurent and Olivier. They’re the oldest residents, so they have the most history to record.”

“Oldest?” you asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

Esmeralda nodded. “And the most stubborn. Olivier can chat for hours, but good luck getting Laurent to open up.”

Before you could respond, heavy footsteps thudded from the opposite direction, drawing your attention. Two towering figures appeared at the end of the hallway, their presence as imposing as it was magnetic. One was slightly darker in tone, his grey-green skin like moss-covered stone, his massive frame a wall of muscle. The other was a shade lighter, with a more angular build and sharp amber eyes.

“Maisie,” the darker one rumbled, his voice low and steady. “Give it back.”

The lighter one sighed, crossing his arms. “You know stealing isn’t a game, right?”

Maisie squeaked, thrusting the trinket forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it!”

Esmeralda leaned in. “Meet Olivier,” she said, nodding towards the lighter figure, “and his twin, Laurent.”

They strode closer, the hallway seeming to shrink under their sheer size. They were massive, nearly seven feet tall, with broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the very definition of imposing. Their skin, textured like weathered stone, shimmered faintly in the dim light.

Your gaze caught on Laurent first, the larger of the two. His face was broad, with a wide, squashed nose, sharp, heavy brows, and tusks that curved slightly from his lower jaw. The glow of his amber eyes cut through the shadows, steady and unreadable, but there was something about the way he carried himself—stiff, upright, every movement deliberate—that made your chest tighten.

He looked like he’d been carved from stone itself, all strength and immovable purpose, and yet the detail of him was captivating: the faint cracks across his forearms, the way his massive wings, folded tightly against his back, curved with a natural grace.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. He was terrifying. He was magnificent.

He was staring right at you.

You forced yourself to focus on Olivier instead, who offered a crooked smile as he took the trinket from Maisie. His features were similar to Laurent’s—squashed and intimidating—but there was a softness to him, in the way his golden eyes glinted and the slight curve of his lips. “I hope we didn’t scare you too badly,” Olivier said, his tone teasing as he turned the trinket over in his claws.

You shook your head, managing a smile despite the fact that your pulse was still racing. “Not scared. Startled, maybe.”

Laurent’s low, rumbling voice cut in, deeper and rougher than Olivier’s. “You looked scared.”

The words hit like a challenge, his gaze boring into yours with a quiet intensity that made the air feel heavier. Your throat tightened as you tried to find your footing again. “First time meeting a gargoyle,” you said, keeping your tone light despite the unease creeping into your chest. “I wasn’t expecting statuesque giants in the hallway.”

Olivier’s laugh broke the tension, his grin widening. “Statuesque. We’ll take that as a compliment.”

Laurent’s expression didn’t shift, but something in the flicker of his eyes told you your attempt at humour had landed poorly. He glanced briefly at Esmeralda, then back at you. “We’re not statues, that’s a myth.”

It wasn’t quite defensive, but there was a weight to the statement, a quiet correction. Your cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, though you weren’t sure if it was embarrassment or something more disconcerting.

“Well,” Esmeralda interjected smoothly, her tone placating, “I think introductions are overdue. Laurent, Olivier, this is my friend. She’s here to help us with some important work.”

Laurent’s stare lingered for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to Maisie. “You need to stop taking our stuff.”

Maisie mumbled another apology, clutching her mossy hair nervously before darting down the hallway toward her room. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she vanished into the shadows. You watched her go, relieved that she seemed more embarrassed than upset.

Laurent and Olivier lingered for a moment longer. Olivier gave you a small, hesitant smile, the kind that seemed polite but guarded. “It was nice meeting you,” he said, his tone warm; but still laced with caution.

Laurent, on the other hand, didn’t bother with any pleasantries. His amber eyes flicked over you briefly, unreadable, before he turned and walked away. Olivier followed a moment later, the two of them moving in sync, their massive wings shifting slightly as they disappeared into the house.

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest easing now that they were gone.

“I’m sorry about Laurent,” Esmeralda said softly, drawing your attention back to her. Her dark eyes held a mix of amusement and sympathy. “He has... a way of putting people on edge.”

You crossed your arms, still feeling the weight of his gaze. “He’s intense - and intimidating. Is he always like that?”

Esmeralda tilted her head thoughtfully. “Most of the time, yes. Laurent is...” She paused, searching for the right words. “Complicated. Fiercely loyal, deeply protective, but also very guarded. He doesn’t trust easily, especially humans.” Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you—it’s everyone.”

You raised an eyebrow, still curious. “Olivier? He seemed... nicer.”

“More approachable, certainly,” Esmeralda agreed. “Don’t let his smile fool you. Olivier is just as wary as his brother. The two of them are inseparable. They’ve been through too much together to let anyone else in easily.”

“Oh?”

Her tone shifted slightly, quieter, more serious. “I could tell you more, but it’s not my story to share. That’s for them to decide.” She gestured down the hallway, as if to indicate the direction the gargoyles had gone. “If you want to understand them, you’ll need to hear it from them. Separately.”

You frowned, puzzled. “Separately?”

Esmeralda nodded. “Laurent and Olivier rely on each other. That’s not a bad thing, but it’s... limiting. They rarely speak to anyone else, and I think it would do them good to branch out. Even if it’s just for this project, talking to you individually could be important for both of them.”

You hesitated, unsure if Laurent’s gruff demeanor was something you could break through. Still, there was something about him—and Olivier—that intrigued you. You wanted to understand why they were here, why they stayed when so many others seemed to move on.

Esmeralda smiled, her sharp features softening. “Take your time. They’ll open up eventually. Just be patient… and persistent.”

You nodded slowly, already thinking of how to approach them. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” she said warmly, motioning for you to follow her further down the hallway. “Now, let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

***

The room Esmeralda had set aside for you was beautiful, in a way that felt almost too much. The ceilings were impossibly high, the bed large enough to swallow you whole, its dark wooden frame heavy and ornate. A tall wardrobe sat in the corner, its doors slightly ajar, revealing neatly folded blankets that you didn’t need.

The entire space was cold; not freezing, but just enough to keep you shifting under the covers.

Then there was the snoring. It rumbled low and steady through the wall, like some great beast slumbering on the other side. You guessed it might be one of the residents—a werewolf, maybe? Whoever it was, they were sleeping far more soundly than you.

Frustrated, you kicked the blankets aside and padded over to the tall windows that opened onto the balcony. The latch creaked faintly as you slid it open, stepping out into the night. A chill breeze hit you immediately, raising goosebumps along your arms, but it was a relief after the oppressive stillness of the room.

The view was eerie. Beautiful. The sprawling grounds of the halfway house stretched out below, dark shapes of trees swaying in the faint wind. Above, the moon hung bright and full, casting everything in a silvery glow.

There, perched on the roof like a gargoyle carved into the building itself, was Laurent.

Your breath caught. He was perched on the very edge of the roofline, his wings partially unfurled, silhouetted against the moonlight. His massive frame was still, his head tilted slightly as though he were watching the horizon. He looked like part of the house, his dark skin blending into the stone.

You took a quick step back, hoping he hadn’t seen you. The last thing you wanted was to disturb him—or worse, have another uncomfortable interaction like earlier.

The faintest movement of his head confirmed he’d already noticed you. His glowing amber eyes locked onto yours, even from a distance. There was no going back now.

After a moment’s hesitation, you decided to take a leap of faith—literally. Climbing up onto the roof seemed like a terrible idea, but staying silent felt worse. You couldn’t explain it, but something about Laurent’s presence pulled at you. You grabbed the nearest part of the latticework and started to climb.

The wind picked up as you scrambled higher, the cold biting at your fingers. The angle was steeper than you’d thought, and halfway up, your foot slipped.

A startled gasp escaped you as you lost your balance. Before you could fall, a massive hand closed around your arm, pulling you up with startling strength. Laurent’s grip was solid and unyielding, his claws barely brushing your skin as he steadied you.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his voice low and rough. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

Your legs trembled as you clung to the edge of the roof, heart racing more from the near fall than anything else. “I-I wasn’t—”

“You’re scared,” he interrupted, his gaze sharp, almost accusing. “You shouldn’t have come up here if you’re afraid of me.”

“Afraid of falling,” you snapped, your voice steadier than you expected. “Not you.”

His expression flickered, surprise flashing across his heavy features before settling into something unreadable. Slowly, he pulled you fully onto the roof, setting you down with more care than you’d expected.

“Hmm,” he muttered, his deep voice more thoughtful now. “You’re braver than you look.”

You sat smiled and carefully, legs crossed, and your hands braced behind you for balance. The roof slanted enough to make your stomach churn if you looked down too long, so you fixed your gaze straight ahead instead. The cold stone beneath you seeped through your clothes, sharp and uncomfortable, but Laurent’s steady presence made the discomfort bearable.

He hadn’t moved far, crouched on the edge of the roof like he belonged there, his wings partially spread to balance himself. The moonlight outlined him in silver, catching on the rough texture of his mossy-green skin and the faint cracks that ran across his arms. His claws flexed once, idly, before going still again, his focus still somewhere in the distance.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and unfamiliar. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way his sharp, angled features caught the light. His face was undeniably strange—his nose wide and squashed, his jaw prominent and square. His glowing eyes were the most striking, unblinking as they reflected the faint light of the moon.

Odd, you thought. Odd, but not unattractive. Certainly unconventional, but there was something compelling about the strength in his features, the way his stillness made him seem carved from the roof itself.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, the weight of his gaze knocked the breath from your chest. He wasn’t just watching you—he was studying you, those amber eyes sharp and expectant.

You fumbled, sitting up straighter. “I—uh...” The words caught in your throat as his expression remained unreadable. “Esmeralda thought I should talk to you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, one of his wings shifting closer to his body. “Why?”

You rubbed at the back of your neck, feeling the cold bite of the wind there. “She’s... She’s hoping to get funding for the house. She thought that if I recorded the residents’ stories, it might help convince the people she’s reaching out to.”

For a moment, Laurent didn’t respond, his gaze sweeping back over the horizon. You wondered if he was ignoring you entirely when he finally said, “I know she’s been struggling.”

His voice was low, rough, but there was something softer beneath it. You tilted your head, surprised by his honesty. “You do?”

He nodded, still watching the trees sway in the distance. “She tries to keep it quiet, but it’s obvious if you pay attention. Fixes that don’t get finished. Rooms that stay empty longer than they used to.”

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t wrong—Esmeralda’s determination to keep the house running sometimes masked just how precarious things had become.

“She thinks your story could help,” you said quietly.

Laurent’s jaw tightened at that, his claws flexing again. “I don’t tell my story.”

It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t exactly welcoming either. You braced yourself, determined not to retreat. “Maybe this time, you should.”

“No,” Laurent said flatly, his gaze cutting back to you.

The weight of the word hung in the air, as immovable as the gargoyle himself.

You hesitated, frustration bubbling under your skin. “I’m not asking you to bare your soul or anything,” you tried, keeping your tone even, calm. “It’s just—Esmeralda really believes this could help the house. You’re the oldest resident. Your story matters.”

“I said no.” His wings flared slightly, a restless motion that seemed involuntary, and his claws scraped faintly against the stone roof.

Your irritation flared, pushing past the unease in your chest. “Why; what are you so afraid of? Esmeralda has done so much for you, she deserves—”

“Enough!”

His voice cracked like thunder, louder than anything you’d heard from him before. It rolled over you, heavy and full of raw anger. Laurent turned toward you fully now, his massive frame towering in the moonlight.

“Do you ever shut up?” he growled, his tusks catching the faint light as his upper lip curled. “Take the hint and fuck off!”

The words hit like a slap, sharp and final. For the first time since arriving at the house, you felt real fear, a cold knot tightening in your stomach. The sheer size of him, his claws flexing at his sides, the tension radiating from every inch of him—it was overwhelming.

Your heart pounded as you scrambled to your feet, stepping back toward the edge of the roof. “I’m sorry,” you stammered, barely managing to get the words out. You turned, gripping the stone ledge as you clambered awkwardly down to the balcony.

When your feet finally hit solid ground, you turned back instinctively, catching sight of him still standing on the roof. The shadows draped over him like a second skin, his wings tucked tight against his back, but he didn’t look at you. He stared straight ahead, as if you’d already disappeared.

The knot in your stomach tightened further. You wanted to call up to him, to try again, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the flicker of guilt in his eyes, the one he tried to mask with cold indifference. Or maybe it was the sharp edge of your own fear.

You turned back to the hallway, your chest still tight as you opened the door quietly. You hadn’t made it far when a vaguely familiar voice stopped you.

“Are you alright?” Olivier stood just ahead, his expression a mix of concern and something softer. He glanced toward the balcony, his wings twitching faintly. “I was looking for Laurent. Did something happen?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “We talked. Or... tried to. He got angry. I pushed too hard, and he told me to leave.”

Olivier’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer, his broad shoulders hunched slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “My brother... he has his reasons for being the way he is. That’s not an excuse, but I hope you understand.”

You nodded, still rattled. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

Olivier gave you a faint, apologetic smile. “He knows. He just... needs time.”

You smile awkwardly, trying to stuff down the flicker of guilt growing in your stomach. “Yeah, I know.”

***

The next few days passed in a blur of activity. You kept yourself busy, determined to avoid crossing paths with Laurent. If he didn’t want to talk, fine. There were plenty of other residents willing to share their stories, and you threw yourself into listening to them.

Maisie was the first. The young kelpie was painfully shy, her mossy hair dripping faintly as she sat across from you in the sunlit sitting room, her knees drawn to her chest. She’d come from a small loch in the Scottish Highlands, the last of her kind in that area. Her voice wavered as she explained how the world had changed too much for her kind to survive, her watery grey eyes filled with a sadness that seemed far older than her youthful appearance.

“Humans don’t leave offerings anymore,” she murmured, twisting a strand of mossy hair between her fingers. “They drain the lochs... build over everything. There’s nowhere left for us.”

Her words stayed with you long after she returned to her room.

Lucas was a different story entirely. The boisterous werewolf cornered you in the kitchen as you were grabbing a drink, pulling you into a sprawling conversation over a shared pot of coffee. He was charming and open in a way that felt effortless, leaning against the counter as he recounted his life before the halfway house.

“I used to live in the city,” he said, stirring sugar into his cup. “Worked construction, went out on weekends, the usual. Then I met someone—human, obviously—and things got... complicated.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “Complicated how?”

Lucas’s grin faltered, his golden-brown eyes dimming slightly. “She found out. Couldn’t handle it. One night I shifted in front of her by accident, and that was that. She told people. I had to run.” He shrugged, a casual motion that didn’t quite mask the tension in his shoulders. “Esmeralda found me before things got worse.”

It struck you how casually he spoke about something that had likely upended his entire life. The ease in his tone felt practiced, a cover for something far deeper.

You wanted to press him further, to ask how he’d really felt when everything fell apart, but the slight twitch in his jaw warned you to tread lightly.

“Well,” you said instead, offering him a small smile. “It sounds like you’ve found a place here. Even if it’s... not what you planned.”

Lucas exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah, it’s not bad. Esmeralda runs a tight ship, and the residents aren’t half as scary as they look.” His grin returned, broader this time. “Most of them, anyway.”

He didn’t say it outright, but you could hear the unspoken Laurent in his words. The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, but even as Lucas returned to his usual charm, his story lingered with you.

Later that evening, as you wandered the hallways, you found yourself drawn to the little-used staircase that led to the third floor. You’d avoided it until now; Esmeralda had casually mentioned that only one resident stayed there, and even she hadn’t offered much detail.

The stairs creaked under your weight, the air growing cooler as you ascended. The third floor was darker, the faint scent of dust and something older curling in the still air. Shadows clung to the corners, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d imagined the faint movement flickering just out of sight.

Then a voice, low and whispery, broke the silence.

“You’re brave... or foolish.”

You froze, your breath catching. The shadows shifted ahead of you, curling and stretching until they coalesced into a shape—not quite solid, not quite human. A pair of faintly glowing eyes blinked into existence, and you realised you were face-to-face with something dark and shadowy.

“I heard you don’t like visitors,” you said carefully, your voice steady despite the prickling unease that crawled up your spine.

Rio’s shape rippled, his outline flickering like smoke caught in the wind. “Most of them don’t try to talk. They... avoid me.”

You took a tentative step closer, tilting your head. “Why’s that? You seem... well, intimidating, sure, but not terrible.”

A sound that might have been a chuckle escaped him, soft and dry like paper crumpling. “That’s... generous. What do you want?”

“I’m recording stories for Esmeralda,” you explained, watching the shadows shift around him. “About the residents, their lives. She said it might help the house.”

Rio was silent for a long moment, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “A human,” he murmured, almost to himself. “She sent a human.”

Despite the odd flicker of fear still clinging to your thoughts, you crossed your arms. “Are you going to let that stop you?”

His form seemed to grow taller, darker, before shrinking back again. “No. Ask.”

The exchange was brief, fragmented, but he answered you, his words drifting like smoke in the quiet hallway. When you eventually thanked him and left, you couldn’t shake the sense that you’d just glimpsed something rare, something no one else had seen.

Esmeralda’s delight later was almost infectious, but even as she praised you for managing to talk to Rio, your thoughts wandered. No matter how many stories you gathered, one glaring absence loomed in your mind.

Laurent still hadn’t spoken to you, and you were starting to wonder if he ever would.

***

Maisie sat cross-legged on the couch, her mossy hair draped over one shoulder as she carefully plaited it into thin, uneven braids. You were perched on the other end, notebook in hand, jotting down details of her story between her shy pauses.

“I suppose,” Maisie murmured, her voice as soft as the brush of water against stone, “I was lucky Esmeralda found me when she did. I didn’t... I didn’t know where to go.”

You glanced up, offering an encouraging smile. “You’ve been here a while now, though. Do you feel safe?”

Maisie nodded, her fingers still working through her damp hair. “Safe, aye, but it’s... different. Always worrying someone will notice something.” Her gaze dropped to her lap, her voice quieter now. “People don’t like what they don’t understand.”

Her words sat heavily between you, both of you lost in thought until the murmur of voices from the next room pulled you back.

Esmeralda’s voice, low and sharp, carried through the doorway. “You don’t think they’ve figured it out, do you?”

Maisie froze mid-braid, her watery grey eyes snapping to yours. You shook your head slightly, motioning for her to stay quiet as Lucas’s reply drifted through the air.

“It’s just talk, Esme,” Lucas said, his tone calm but edged with unease. “People in small towns gossip. It doesn’t mean they know anything.”

“What if they do?” Esmeralda shot back, her usual poise slipping. “What if someone’s realised what we are? You’ve heard the rumours as much as I have. Strange sounds. Lights at night. The halfway house full of strangers. They’re putting things together.”

Maisie’s hands trembled, her braid forgotten as she leaned closer to you, her voice a whisper. “Are they talking about us?”

You pressed a finger to your lips, trying to focus on the conversation.

“They’re always going to talk,” Lucas replied, though his voice sounded strained now, the usual easy charm missing. “It doesn’t mean we’re in danger. We’ve dealt with this kind of thing before.”

“This is different,” Esmeralda insisted. “I know when someone’s watching. I know when someone’s looking too closely.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with things unsaid. Then Lucas spoke again, softer this time. “If someone’s onto us, we’ll deal with it. We always do. You’ve been keeping this place running too long to let a few nosy villagers bring it down.”

The tension in Esmeralda’s voice didn’t ease. “I won’t let them hurt anyone. Not again.”

Your stomach tightened at her words, and you could see Maisie clutching her knees, her knuckles pale against her mossy skin. You wanted to tell her everything was fine, that it was just paranoia, but the edge in Esmeralda’s tone made it hard to believe even yourself.

Maisie’s whisper barely broke the silence. “Do you think... they’ll come here?”

You didn’t have an answer. Instead, you closed your notebook and gave her a reassuring smile you didn’t quite feel. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” you said softly, though the uneasy knot in your chest told you you’d both heard enough to worry.

Maisie’s fingers fidgeted with her braid, unravelling it as quickly as she’d plaited it. Her watery grey eyes darted toward the doorway where Esmeralda and Lucas’s voices had been, their absence now replaced by an uncomfortable stillness.

“Maisie,” you said gently, closing your notebook and setting it aside. “We can pick this up another time, yeah?”

She blinked, her mouth forming a small o of surprise before she nodded quickly, her mossy hair swaying. “Aye, I—thank you,” she mumbled, standing so quickly that the hem of her long skirt caught on the couch. She tugged it free and all but darted out of the room, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floors.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stood. You didn’t blame her. Whatever Esmeralda and Lucas had been talking about had set both your nerves and hers on edge. There was no use pushing her now.

Stepping into the hall, you nearly collided with someone solid—someone massive. Your heart skipped as you looked up to find both twins standing there, blocking most of the narrow hallway with their combined size.

Laurent, as always, looked like he’d been carved directly from the walls—stoic and unmoving—while Olivier’s brows rose slightly, his expression more open but just as unreadable.

“Sorry,” you said, stepping back and trying to gauge whether they’d heard the conversation too. From the way Olivier’s amber eyes flicked toward the sitting room door, it was clear they had. Neither of them said anything, and you felt the awkwardness thicken around you.

“So, uh,” you started, fumbling for something to say. “What brings you to this end of the house?”

Olivier gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just stretching our legs.”

Laurent, on the other hand, didn’t so much as blink. He stood there, his wings tucked close, a hulking silhouette against the dim light of the hallway.

You cleared your throat, glancing between them. “Well, nice to, um, bump into you. Again.”

Olivier’s smile widened just a fraction, but Laurent simply turned, his massive frame moving further down the hall. Olivier followed without another word.

Later, when sleep refused to come, you found yourself wandering into the kitchen. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound at first, until a low, familiar voice startled you.

“You’re up late.”

Laurent was standing near the counter, his hulking frame somehow looking out of place amidst the cosy clutter of the kitchen. His wings shifted slightly as he turned, glancing at you with those glowing amber eyes.

“So are you,” you replied, leaning against the doorway.

For a moment, you thought that was the end of it. Then, awkwardly, he gestured toward the kettle. “Tea?”

The word was stilted, almost uncertain, and you blinked.

“Sure,” you said, your voice softer now.

Laurent reached for a small container, and your eyes widened as he set it on the counter. It had your name written neatly on the label.

“You knew where my tea was?”

He shrugged, the movement oddly stiff. “Esmeralda said it was yours. You leave it in the same spot.”

You stared, caught between surprise and something warmer. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

His claws brushed the edge of the container as he opened it. “I notice everything.”

You didn’t comment, instead watching as he ambled about the kitchen.

Laurent moved with a quiet efficiency that seemed incongruous with his size. The kettle hissed softly as he poured the steaming water into two mismatched mugs, his massive hands surprisingly deft as he worked. His shoulders hunched slightly to accommodate the low cabinets above him, and every shift of his wings made the kitchen feel even smaller.

You watched him from your spot near the table, caught between awkward silence and an inexplicable pull you didn’t entirely understand. He seemed too big for the space, too solid, like the room itself might give way before he did.

Yet, there was something mesmerising about the precision of his movements, the quiet strength in the way he handled something as simple as making tea.

The air between you was heavy, uncomfortable. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words refused to come. Laurent didn’t seem inclined to break the silence either, his amber eyes focused on the mugs as he let the tea steep.

Your fingers tapped absently against the edge of the table, the tension stretching taut. “I, uh... I didn’t mean to push you before.” The words slipped out before you had time to second guess them. “When I first got here. I just… I was trying to help, and I think I overstepped.”

Laurent didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached for the mugs, his claws brushing the handles as he turned to hand one to you. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, the glow in them unreadable.

“I don’t like being pushed,” he said finally, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the small kitchen.

The sound sent a shiver down your spine, something deep and instinctive that wasn’t entirely fear. You nodded, fingers wrapping around the warm mug. “I get that. I just... wanted you to know I’m sorry.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his tusks catching the faint light as his jaw shifted. “You meant well,” he said eventually, his tone gruff but not unkind. “It’s fine.”

The tension between you didn’t entirely dissipate, but something in the air felt different. You took a deep breath, lifting the mug to your lips—

A sudden crash from somewhere in the house shattered the quiet, the sound sharp and violent enough to make you jump. The mug slipped in your hands, hot tea splashing onto your fingers and sending a spark of pain through you.

Before you’d even registered it, Laurent was already moving. His wings flared slightly, casting shadows across the walls as he straightened to his full height.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Another sound followed—a muffled shout, unfamiliar voices carrying through the hallway. Laurent’s head snapped toward the doorway, his body tensing like a spring ready to release.

“Who the hell is that?” you whispered, your heart pounding as the voices grew louder. Laurent didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped toward the door, his massive frame blocking your view as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed closer.

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #exophilia romance #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #tag: mxf #tag: gargoyle #tag: sfw #tag: male monster #tag: female reader

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