#that means something it means a lot actually

[teaboot]

Re: my “don’t ‘test’ people, communicate your needs, because they aren’t instinctive to others” post:

I feel like a lot of people are reading that post and saying “if your friend/partner/colleague can’t be arsed to take the initiative, be courteous, or anticipate reasonable needs, they’re a selfish baby”

Which, on one hand, yes! Distributing labour in a shared space is a form of invisible labour that typically women are saddled with in disproportionately high percentages, but that wasn’t actually what I was saying

If the first time you notice something you desire isn’t being fulfilled you decide to test the other person and judge whether or not they care about you, that’s shitty. You have the responsibility to say “hey, I noticed this and it bothers me for this reason, when you do this I feel like this, can you do something else?”.

If you have done that REPEATEDLY and see no change, then it may be reasonable to conclude that the other person is disregarding your words.

If this is something that you have never pointed out before, or that you spontaneously decided to look for, or something that’s only come up once, don’t fucking “test” people. Don’t lie. Don’t try and “trap” them. That’s shitty. Come on

I’m a messy person with ADHD. I live alone. I clean up after myself and feed myself and everything an independent adult does on a schedule that WORKS for me. If you suddenly appear in my space and hate how I live but say nothing, I’m going to take you at face value and believe that you’re okay until you say otherwise.

Because why wouldn’t I? Why would I believe you’re lying to my face about your preferences and needs? Why would you want me to never believe what you say???

SAY WHAT YOU NEED. TELL ME HOW TO SHOW I CARE ABOUT YOUR COMFORT AND I WILL USE THAT INFORMATION.

Don’t just change a detail in your behaviour and judge mu character based on whether or not I can Sherlock Holmes your intent and desires off that alone

Attitude is communicated in REPEATED AND CLEARLY COMMUNICATED PATTERNS, not in one-offs, assumptions, and symbolism open to interpretation.

People are people, not books or TV shows. You can talk to them- you don’t have to do a literary analysis on whether or not a carton of milk means I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t love you

[thebibliosphere]

Hello! I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you have any thoughts on Howard Schubiner's Unlearn Your Pain, Mind Body Syndrome, treating neuroplastic symptoms, etc.? I was just referred to a pain management group that centers around these concepts, and I'm having some Feelings about the whole thing.

Just wondering if you've had any experiences with this type of treatment, or thoughts about its effectiveness. Thanks!

Okay, so this is going to be long, and I'm going to need you to stick with me through the tangent. I promise it's relevant.

I haven't read Howard Schubiner's work directly, but his colleague Alan Gordon was a key speaker at the Migraine World Summit this year. I found his talk interesting enough to buy his book and do some more research on my own, and I found it worthwhile pursuing on my own.

I know enough from my mast cell disorder to know that the body develops 'bad habits' around pain.

In the case of anxiety, stress, or panic, mast cells become more reactive, and this can make pain worse. This is true for everyone*; it's just those of us with MCAS or some other type of mast cell disorder who have more alarming symptoms like idiopathic anaphylaxis.

So, unfortunately, if I, as someone with MCAS, experience an acute pain from an injury or illness, the inherent stress response of the pain and the out-of-balance response from my nervous system can make my mast cells degranulate. They're little fuckers like that.

Mast cells can also put your body on an inflammatory cycle that is counterproductive to healing. They can literally get trained to anticipate reactions and pre-emptively react, because again, they are little fuckers.

To give you an example of this for me: my major migraines, the ones that land me in the hospital, occur on the dot every ten days. There are no hormonal factors to this that can be found or other consistent triggers or stressors, but I was unknowingly being exposed to an MCAS trigger roughly every ten days for a while. When I realized, I removed the trigger, obviously. Problem solved, right? Unfortunatley no. By then, my mast cells had trained themselves into a new pattern, and the migraine now is both the response and the trigger. It's some bastard thing called Innate Immune Memory. But it's also, partly, my subconscious anticipating the event and priming my body for a reaction, which I am susceptible to because of my MCAS and dysautonomia, which is a type of nervous system disorder.

And this is where the neuroplasticity comes in.

I'm currently in the process of trying to unlearn this response and better regulate my nervous system, which unfortunately makes me sound like a TikTok girly with a link in bio to sell you cortisol healing tea, but I promise you the only thing I'm interesting in shilling is my smutty vampire books. (And this post will be how some people learn I write books)

Anyway, why am I bothering to explain mast cell dysfunction like this in relation to neuroplasticity?

Because, yeah, if a pain doctor handed me a leaflet about 'unlearning pain' and I didn't understand how my body is routinely sabotaging itself on a cellular level in response to acute and neuroplastic pain, I'd also be rolling my eyes and feeling like I've just been handed a bottle of snake oil in the market.

God knows I've been handed 'mindfullness' leaflets by enough shitty doctors who don't actually understand what it means when we say "stress affects the nervous system" and just assume the patient is inventing symptoms to be annoying.

Thankfully, that is not what this is. At least I am hoping the doctor sending you there doesn't think you are causing your own pain. What they are hopefully trying to do is introduce you to something that a lot of chronic pain patients are reporting helps them feel more in control of their lives after many years of feeling at the mercy of their pain.

I don't attend the sessions at my brain injury clinic (yet), but I do know they use neuroplasticity therapy to help amputees with the phantom pain they experience from missing limbs. My physical therapist spent an entire session singing its virtues to me while I was fighting for my life on a balance board. Which is also why I decided to look into it after I heard Gordon talking at the Migraine World Summit.

So, do I think Schubiner's methods are hokum?

No, I think there's a lot of merit to the things he talks about and explains, but I also know the only reason I think that is because of the insight I have into the brain-body bundle through the experiences of my mast cell disease that has taught me there is nothing the brain is incapable of fucking up.

Do I think targeting neuroplastic pain will work well for everyone?

No. I think you need to try it and see if it's a good fit for you.

Some people who attended the World Migraine Summit think it's snake oil/just another way for pain doctors to foist us off into the realm of mental health care. Conversely, other people won't shut up about how learning to break the cycle of fear and panic around their pain has been life-altering for them.

For me, it's been more subtle and is part of a broader spectrum of therapies and medical treatment I use to keep my nervous system in check. It certainly hasn't done me any harm. If anything, I found it quite validating to hear someone say, "Oh, the pain is in your head? Of course it is. Let's try to fix that," and then gave me actionable coping methods. They might not work profoundly in the long term. I'm still a sick bitch with multiple acute causes of my pain. But it's also not harming me the way mindfulness was (many chronic pain patients can find it traumatizing).

I will say, I am concerned that some doctors will use the treatment of neuroplastic pain to dismiss treating acute pain with physical causes.

Just like how mindfulness has been abused by an overworked, underfunded medical system not equipped to handle chronic patients, there's also the risk of neuroplastic therapy being tossed over the fence in a similar fashion as a last ditch Hail Mary to treat patients they don't have time for. But I don't think it's widespread enough yet for that to be the case.

I dunno. Give it a try. If it's not for you, it's not for you.

Personally, I hate anything that revolves around group therapy, but I did find the book "The Way Out" by Alan Gordon insightful in helping me figure some things out. Maybe see if your local library has it before you drop money on any sessions?

_ _ _

*There has also been more compelling evidence recently that suggests that chronic pain conditions like fibromyalgia are also affected by wonky mast cells. Also arthritis.

[szatears]

inked all over, stack.

summary: stack comes back to you with a new surprise, one that you must say suits him a little too well.

pairing: modernau!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, use of the n word, descriptions of reader.

notes: modernau!stack has finally arrived! ever since i made that post about smoke and stack w tattoos i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are! also switched up the pov to third person for this one. ignore any errors, did not proofread at all. smoke version coming soon :)

"Goddamn, you said how long?!" Stack's eyes widened as he leaned back in the tattoo chair, sat opposite his tattoo artist, Deuce.

"We're looking at 'bout six hours?" Deuce laughed seeing the expression on his client's face.

Stack was always at Deuce's parlour when he wanted a piece done on his body, he didn't trust anyone else to do it for him. Same with his brother. Today, he walked in wanting to get something he had on his mind for months.

"Six hours? Nigga, I'ma need you to cut it down to like, two and a half. My lady already pissed I ain't wake her up with a kiss this morning," he blew out a breath, thinking about the messages his wife had left him a few hours ago.

He'd been up since the early hours, and it was almost 4 o'clock now. He was only meant to be out running a few errands with Smoke and some by himself, but he just couldn't get the tattoo out of his mind.

Deuce laughed, nodding his head as he placed the drawing of what Stack wanted on his forearm. "This good for you?"

Stack looked down at the placement, a faint smile on his lips. He couldn't wait to see her reaction to this. "Yeah, it's good."

He knew how the process would go, he just hoped he'd be back home at a reasonable time to not get his ass chewed out. Mrs. Moore didn't play like that.

He made himself comfortable, his arm out on the extendable part of the bed to allow Deuce to do his work. Many Men by 50 Cent played through the speakers, and Stack pulled his phone out of his pockets before Deuce started tattooing.

He already had a few tattoos, but he still wasn't too used to the pain. Smoke on the other hand? Stack would say "you could tattoo that nigga's eyeball and he won't even flinch."

Stack had put a lot of thought into this piece. It would be the beginning of a sleeve he hoped to complete later on, but to him, this was the most important part of it. It had the typical designs of a sleeve ─── shaded clouds with the sun peeking through, cursive writing with some red for that pop. But it was what was written that held the most meaning to him.

With time, Stack came to realise that one of his wife's favourite ways of expressing her love to him was through words. It could be something simple, like telling him she was proud of him or that he was doing well with everything. Or it would be more, like a note in the morning before she left to go somewhere, or one of the many texts she sent him throughout the day.

One of these letters stuck with him the most. In it, she wrote about how he'd become such an important part of her life, the tie that held them together growing stronger each day. The exact words he was getting tattooed on his arm were "you're my favourite person and my forever person, i got you always," something she never failed to mention to him.

It was obvious how in love the two were. You rarely saw them without the other, and even if they were, it wouldn't take long for either to mention the other.

Along with the words, Stack added her lipstick print that she always signed her letters off with. He knew he'd be making a joke soon enough about how her lips were always gonna be on him now.

The rest of the piece had some other smaller yet intricate designs, he told Deuce he could freehand whatever, he trusted him like that.

-

Surprisingly, Deuce actually managed to cut his estimated time in half, finishing the tattoo almost three hours later. As Deuce finished taking pictures and wrapping Stack's arm, his phone rang, looking down at the caller id to see his wife's name with a heart next to it. He accepted the facetime, smiling at the mug on her face.

"Why are you smiling? You must like playing with your life..." she mumbled, fixing her hair in the camera frame.

"I can't be happy to see you no more?" He chuckled, watching her fight back a small smile. "You look good."

"I know," she leaned her face closer to her camera. "Where are you? Come home already."

"I'ma be home in a minute, mama, I'm at the shop with Deuce," Stack turned his camera to face the man who was tidying up his supplies as he held up a peace sign.

"Hey, Deuce. So you're the reason my man's out til these hours when he said he'd only be gone for two tops?" Her head tilted as Deuce laughed.

"It ain't my fault he picks the tricky designs."

"Design─── Baby, you got a new piece?" All of a sudden the frown on her face was wiped off, replaced with a smile.

"Yeah, I did. Look at you, smilin' over there," Stack laughed as he got up from the bed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a stack of 50s, handing it to Deuce.

Before he could even complain about being given too much money, Stack gave him a look. "You really gon' make me argue with my lady on the phone?"

"No, sir," Deuce smiled, putting the money away.

"Aight, til next time Deuce."

He grabbed his coat and left the shop, opening the door to his car that was parked right at the front. "You need me to bring anything, baby?" he looked down at his phone as he put on his seatbelt, seeing his wife already staring at him. The smile that graced his face was just his natural reaction to seeing her; he couldn't get enough of her,

"Could you get some more fruit from Mama Glo's corner? If she's still open."

"Yeah. You gon' stay on the phone?"

"No, I'm gonna take a shower real quick. But I'll see you soon, handsome. I love you," she kissed the camera.

"I love you too."

-

Stack came back with a brown paper bag containing the fruit his wife had asked for, closing the front door with his foot. He slipped his trainers off, walking to the kitchen and placing the fruit on the counter. When he didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming down to greet him, he tilted his head, making his way up the stairs.

He found her lying on their bed, dressed only in a bra and a small pair of shorts. She turned her head to the door when she heard the floorboards creak, a smile on her face as she set her phone down on the bedside table.

Stack smiled at her smile, his hands resting on her waist as she stood in front of him. His frame slightly towered over hers, his head dipping down a little to kiss her lips.

"Nice of you to come home, Elias," she hummed into the kiss.

"You know I could never be away from you for too long." His words were like music to her eyes as she used the hands that were around his neck to softly run her fingers over his skin.

"I got your fruit," he told her, tapping her hip twice so she'd let him go briefly, letting him take off his shirt. It was only when he took off the black muscle t-shirt that he wore, that she let her eyes run over the tattoos that adorned his chest and back before she remembered the reason he went out.

She let her eyes wander over him whilst he put his phone on charge, finally spotting the wrapped part of his right arm. Stack glanced at her, noticing how quiet she'd gotten. "You wanna see it?" he laughed at how eagerly she nodded in response to his question.

He stepped closer to her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she stood between his legs. He slowly took off the wrapping of the tattoo, much to his wife's impatience. When he finally revealed the finished work of art, the look on her face made his impulse decision ten times worth it.

He let her gently run her hands over the ink, waiting for to notice what made it even more special. He watched her face closely as her eyes flickered over his forearm, holding it with so much care. It wasn't until she turned his hand over so his palm was facing her, that she saw the writing.

"Elias..." she whispered, a pout on her face as she ran over the words and the copy of her lips.

"You like it?" he smiled at her, flashing his gold caps.

"Like it? Baby, I'm in love with it, oh my God," she couldn't tear her eyes off it. Throughout their relationship, Stack would always say something along the lines of "I'ma get your name tatted on my face," but this was far more meaningful.

"Good, 'cause it hurt like a bitch," he mumbled, pulling her into his lap. He kissed the side of her face as she held onto his arm. "I love you more than life itself."

"I love you endlessly," she took his face in both her hands, kissing him.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

He turned his head into the kiss, letting his lips leave hers to kiss down her neck to her collar. He flipped them over, bringing her to lay back down in the middle of the bed.

Her hands ran down his toned arms, massaging his broad shoulders. She let her fingers trace over the inked parts of his skin that she could reach, having memorised where every part was.

Stack used his knee to nudge her legs apart, letting him slot in between them as he kissed her. His tongue danced with hers whilst she held him closer to her face by the back of his neck. Her soft moans only encouraged him more, as did the growing friction her hips created against his.

"Yeah, you gon' have to come up outta these," he mumbled against her lips as his hands fumbled down to her shorts, pulling them down her legs.

"Elias..." she whispered, tugging at his belt. She was almost naked whilst he was still half clothed.

He smiled at her, pulling away from her lips to kiss a trail down to her pelvis. "Hold on, baby. I wanna make you feel good first." He kissed her clit over the lacy underwear she wore, and she shuddered, leaning back further into the pillows.

Stack used his thumb to rub her clothed clit, watching how her legs started to close around his hand. "Baby, please," she whined, and it didn't take long for him to give in to her pleas, taking off her underwear.

Just as quick as he had done that, his head lowered closer to her core, his mouth latching onto her creaming opening. His tongue licked up and down, his hand holding either side of her hips as he ate her out. She let out a loud moan, her hands gripping the back of his head.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," she breathed out, her eyes fluttering with pleasure.

"Yeah?" he mumbled against her, the vibrations just adding to the feeling.

Stack lapped at her for all she was worth, the unholy sounds emitting from her lips and his work. He used his thumb to rub her clit as he continued to work her away with his tongue. She writhed underneath him, feeling that familiar coil inside of her begin to surface.

"Why you moving away, huh? You can take it mama, I know you can," he assured her, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he briefly looked up at her. The sight alone almost made her cum right there; his mustache and goatee coated in her fluids.

She couldn't keep it in, especially when he went back to her with his tongue, his two fingers pumping in and out just as fast. "Shit, I'm gonna─── Oh, my God," her moans aligned with her release, all over his mouth.

Stack continued to eat her out through her high, her hips grinding into his face as he sought more. "Baby let up," she groaned, trying to push his face away.

"One more, baby. For me?" How could she say no when he was making feel that good?

It wasn't long before she came again, her body letting up as Stack cleaned her up. Only he could make her tap out like that.

He finally moved his head from between her legs, hovering over her as she grabbed his face, pulling him down for a messy kiss. She licked over his lips, moaning at the taste of her on him. His hand travelled to her throat, the same arm that was newly inked now right in front of her.

Stack's tattoos were such a turn on, it was almost impossible to describe. If he wanted to make her orgasm fast, all he had to do was talk her through it, or have her analyse his tattoos. Easy.

"You not tapping out on me, are you?" he smirked, as she gave him a lazy smile. She could feel his dick through his pants at her entrance. Shaking her head, she let go of him to take his belt off, eyes on him as she pulled him out of his boxers.

He briefly got up to take them off all the way, before he settled back between her legs, hiking them up his hips. She let her arms rest over his shoulders as he pushed in, both of them groaning.

He fit so perfectly with her, and he made her feel that way every time, through sex or not. The sound of skin slapping soon took over the room, as did their moans.

Stack ground his hips into hers, his head resting in the crook of her neck, leaving small love bites where he could.

"You're doing me so good, E," she whispered lowly in his ear which only spurred him on. He picked up his pace, finding that spot of hers that had her arching into him.

"Like that, baby? Hm?" he asked as she could only not in reply, too far into it to speak actual words. Stack fucked her so good, without fail every time.

He looked down at where they connected briefly, fascinated by her precious pussy taking him in so well. "You're doing so good for me, pretty." he told her, his eyes back on hers.

She managed to keep the contact for a few moments before he had her eyes rolling at the back of her head, her muscled walls clenching around his dick.

He grunted at that, feeling himself close to unravelling. But like he always did, he wanted her to come first.

"I'm almost there, E, keep going─── Yeahhhh, just like that," she moaned, whining even as she felt herself about to come for the third time. She held his head to her face as he kissed her, groaning as she reached closer and closer to her climax.

"Fuck!" she screamed as he cum coated his dick, spilling out as he fucked her through it.

"You got it baby, shit, I'm gonna cum too, hold on," his words trailed off to a whisper as he came in her, her eyes fluttering shut as she adjusted to the overbearing amount of pleasure only her man could give her.

Stack's thrusts slowed down as he pushed his seed back in her, a lazy smirk on her face as she watched him do so. He pulled out slowly, gently laying on top of her. She brought her legs around his waist, kissing his temple as they caught their breath.

"Damn," Stack sighed happily. "Might have to get my whole body tatted up now."

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten

[lazysoulwriter]

caught up on you. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: FWB-to-feelings, secret relationship tension, public kissing, swearing, making out, reader in the industry (open role), mutual pining, Pedro being obsessed™

---

You were never supposed to kiss in public.

That was the rule. Your rule, actually. Pedro agreed to it without complaint, the way he always did.

"No PDA," you’d said, back when this all started. "We work together. You’re… you.”

And he is. Pedro Pascal — everyone’s favorite. Internet boyfriend, Hollywood heartthrob, fan favorite at every event you attended side-by-side. You, on the other hand? Behind the scenes. Just part of the crew. And you preferred it that way.

FWBs. Fun. Comfortable. Off the radar.

But now? Now he’s standing in front of you after a month apart, fresh off a flight from Prague, hair messy, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, and looking at you like he might die if he doesn’t touch you soon.

“Hi,” you say, hugging your clipboard a little tighter. “You’re early.”

He’s already walking toward you. “Couldn’t stay away.”

And then it happens.

No warning. No build-up. Just his mouth on yours — warm, familiar, home. His hands slide around your waist, his nose brushing yours, and the kiss deepens like he doesn’t care if the whole goddamn world is watching.

Because they are.

You hear the shutter first. Then the sharp click-click-click that only means one thing.

Photographers.

You pull back like you’ve been electrocuted, hands pressed to his chest. “Pedro.”

He blinks, lips still parted. “Shit.”

“Shit,” you echo, glancing around. You’re in the studio parking lot. Broad daylight. Crew members just a few feet away. Someone with a headset is definitely watching.

You take a breath. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

“I know.” His voice is low. Regretful. But his eyes stay on you like he’s memorizing the moment. “I just… missed you.”

You pause. Let that sink in. Let yourself feel it — the way your chest clenches, the way your body still leans toward his even when your brain is screaming boundaries.

“You could’ve told me that inside.”

“Wouldn’t have been the same,” he says softly. “I needed to feel it.”

You look away. Your lips are still tingling. Your heart is doing something dangerous.

You’ve always kept things separate. Private. Untangled.

But now the internet is going to know. Your coworkers are going to know. Everyone will know. You’re not even mad.

Later that night, after the chaos calms, after the photos are already making the rounds online — “Pedro Pascal spotted kissing mystery woman at LA studio lot!” “Is this his new girlfriend?” “She works with him, right??”

— he texts you:

PEDRO: I’m sorry for ruining our cover. But I’m not sorry I kissed you. I’ve missed you like hell.

You stare at the screen. Heart in your throat.

Maybe it was never just casual.

Maybe it was never just sex.

Maybe… it’s time to stop hiding.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[my-castles-crumbling]

use - may 14 - black brothers - jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 261

“You know, when you were little, I used to think you were going to grow up to be a serial killer or something,” Sirius said conversationally, as if he wasn’t admitting something thoroughly insulting.

“Sirius, what the fuck?” Regulus asked, knitting his eyebrows together and sending his brother a scathing look.

“Listen, am I really that wrong? You lack a lot of…emotion,” the older man shrugged, like it didn’t much matter to him.

“Fair,” Regulus chuckled. “You lack brains, though, and I still love you.”

“Aww, Reggie! You hardly ever admit that!” Sirius cooed, grinning widely. “But yeah, I kind of wondered, you know. ‘How’s this fucker gonna turn out?’ I mean, with our parentage, you can’t blame me.”

“And now?” Regulus pushed, more curious about his older brother’s thought process than actually worried about how he felt. “Decided I’m actually secretly a giant teddy bear?”

“No,” Sirius snorted. “I still worry that you’ll stab me in my sleep sometimes.”

“As you should.”

“But I also know you’re not made of stone. Not with the way you look at James,” the taller man continued, sending Regulus a little smirk.

Regulus felt himself blush. “Shut up. I look at him like a normal person does.”

“Reg, you’re not a normal person to him. You’re literally walking down the aisle to him in ten minutes,” Sirius reminded him.

A swooping sense of nervousness overtook Regulus’s body. “Fuck. I am,” he breathed, a shaky grin forming on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Reggie. I’ve got you,” his older brother whispered, patting him on the shoulder.

[purplesaline]

So, I've noticed when this complaint is often issued tends to be when the lack of communication requires suspension of disbelief. When something is written/portrayed really well that lack of communication makes complete sense because the character's motivations and thinking process have been well established. So let's say we know thr main characte is afraid of conflict, for example, and we get to a point where communicating with the love interest would mean risking potential conflict. If we don't understand WHY the MC is afraid of conflict, or if we don't understand how that fear of conflict impacts their life, if we don't see if happening between the MC and characters other than thr love interest for similar stakes we're probably going to struggle with why the MC isn't just communicating because it will clearly prevent conflict while not communicating will actually cause it.

And the thing is, very few romances/romcoms ever properly develop this aspect of the character because miscommunication has become an easy trope to move the plot forward. Or it could be because the author intrinsically understands why the character would act that way because it's how they'd act and it seems so natural to them they assume it's universal (and they likely don't fully understand why they do it either).

So, in response to the person above, no. They probably didn't consider that because for lots of people communicating with someone they love and value and don't want to hurt isn't actually scary and that being vulnerable comes naturally to them. So maybe it would be helpful if the story showed them that the main character feels like that, and why they feel that way. What evidence supports the character's belief that communication is scary and bring vulnerable is hard?

If you can show your audience that you'll never hear the "why don't they just communicate?! Are they stupid?" complaint again.

But also, not all conflict in a story needs to arise from a lack of communication. Maybe it's time to branch out and brainstorm some different complications. I've seen other authors do it, and do it well (even in romance novels!), and I believe in you!

"Why didn't they just communicate?? They're so stupid!" Have you considered that communicating with someone you love and value and don't want to hurt is scary and that vulnerability takes practice and that perfect characters with perfect words make the most boring stories of all

[hajihiko]

Aren't you tired of being nice, don't you just wanna go apeshit: a ramble about the despair gimmick

In short- in my mind & my world, despair is basically just giving up on your/society's principles and deliberately becoming the worst version of yourself. It's kind of a rejection of society and expectations to a catastrophic degree- I am tired of being nice and I am going to go apeshit (I'm sick of trying to keep everything together, I'm doing a 180 and burning it all to the ground). Who hasn't fantasized a little bit about giving up the long fight for good and doing all the things you know are bad?

In long:

I do think the whole despair and hope, specifically, are moreso gimmicks to have easily recognisable and iconic words in your game rather than something you can actually summarise. I mean, the concepts are real, and the feelings are as real as any feeling is. But the spiral-eyes and super-saiyan mode are obviously moreso to make it dynamic and On Brand, and it's simply more fun that way. As a visual artist this is great for me!

But like, the actual despair thing to me is a more familiar feeling that a lot of people might recognize; a kind of sickness, not illness, but being sick of the world you were born into. Especially these gifted kids with their whole future already defined, whether they like it or not. If your world is rigid and unyielding, you might be sorely tempted to take a sledgehammer and just wreck it.

Akane example: her life was really rough, and her only way out was sports and the privileges being good at them brings. If she doesn't keep up, she just might end back in poverty, and at least in gymnastics there are less people abusing her. But she still needs to practice, mind her diet, wear the right clothes, socialize, compete, go to school, worry about her family back home, etc. Eventually she throws it all away, says FUCK IT and lets herself do whatever she wants, even ruins her body so there is a very slim chance she can even make a comeback- no expectations, nothing to live up to. Then, she can finally stop trying so hard to be good. It's easier to lay down and deteriorate, and after so long pushing yourself to make it, there's probably a kind of delerious joy to finally just. Give up, and stop trying. Absolving yourself of all responsibility for your life and others', whatever happens from here on out just doesn't matter.

Imagine your life is a castle of blocks (you know, the kind kids play with).

When you're little, everything is impressive. You made one block stand up, wow! Good job! Keep going, here's a block coloured improvement, here's one coloured discipline.

You should have a block coloured father figure, but instead you're handed violence. That one is misshapen and ugly and makes your whole construct unstable and much more difficult to work with in the future, but you're too young to know the difference. Once you're old enough to know, it's too late- you already built so much on that foundation.

As you go on, and make a bigger castle, not only does the building get harder, but people expect more, and it gets more and more imperative that you keep going and do not fuck up. Especially when you're a gifted kid that's supposed to be the very best at that one thing you do - it's exhausting!! Every time the castle so much as rattles, you're terrified it's all gonna come down, and you just start hating this stupid castle.

Then someone shows up and says, hey. You can just knock this whole thing down, yknow? If you do, people will stop hounding you about it, and if you do it with a big tantrum and a bang, they won't even expect you to try again. You can just rest.

And god, doesn't that sound good.

She hands you a baseball bat and you delightfully start smashing your castle to bits, and get splinters and blisters and tire yourself out with it. Once you're done, maybe you even start smashing other people's blocks. Maybe you even think you're helping them. It's just stupid blocks and you're so over treating them seriously.

(It so happens that she is making her own empire out of the wood chips of your life, but you don't see that. Or you don't care, or you're just happy to give something back to her.)

But of course it's not actually a castle of blocks. It's your life, and you don't get to switch out broken blocks for new ones and you can't un-smash them.

Kind of like waking up from a bender, a fun wild crazy time while it lasted, but now you feel sick and gross and hurt and you'd like to go back to the comforts you had, but... too late.

You get put into a rehab coma. Everything is a mess, everything hurts, and you don't really want to live in a pile of wood chips after all. You don't need to make a castle, you can make whatever you want, actually. But it's gonna be pretty hard.

A guy hands you band-aids and some glue and says, better get to work.

And you get to work.

[inseobts]

Heartstrings pt.2

trafalgar law x reader

part 1 - part 3

amid the chaos of punk hazard, you reunite with trafalgar law, stirring old memories, buried emotions, and a shared past haunted by corazon’s death. but there's no time to dwell—doflamingo’s name resurfaces, and this time, you refuse to let history repeat itself.

tags: punk hazard and dressrosa spoilers I guess, angst to fluff, childhood friends, slow burn

a/n: this isn't really what happened in the anime/manga but I couldn't remember it all and couldn't make it too long lmao

word count: 3.4k

masterlist || ko-fi

You don’t know how long you stand there, wrapped around Law like you’re afraid he’ll vanish. Maybe a few seconds. Maybe a lifetime.

All you know is that for the first time in years, the weight on your chest feels just a little lighter.

Eventually, though, Law shifts.

You feel it before he actually moves, the slight tension returning to his frame, the way his fingers twitch like he’s restraining himself. And then, with a sigh, he pulls away.

Not all at once. It’s slow, almost reluctant. But it happens. And you let him.

Because even if he won’t say it, you know this was a lot for him.

He clears his throat, glancing away, shoving his hands back into his pockets. His usual mask slides back into place, the unreadable, too-cool-to-care captain of the Heart Pirates.

But you don’t miss the slight red tint at the tips of his ears.

“You done being dramatic?” he mutters.

You snort, rolling your eyes “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I ruin your broody loner aesthetic?”

Law gives you a flat look “You ruined it the second you showed up.”

You grin “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He mutters something under his breath but you catch it.

“…Should’ve known you’d be like this.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel lighter.

The mood doesn’t stay light for long.

Dressrosa looms ahead.

The tension on the ship shifts the moment the island comes into view. The crew gathers on the deck, eyes fixed on the landmass in the distance.

Even Luffy, who’s usually oblivious to tension, seems unusually serious.

You stand beside Law, arms crossed, heart pounding.

“We have a plan,” Law says, addressing the Straw Hats. His voice is level, but you can hear the edge beneath it “We need to be careful. Doflamingo isn’t someone you can take lightly.”

Luffy grins, cracking his knuckles “We’re taking him down, right? Sounds simple to me.”

You groan “Luffy... this isn’t a bar fight, this is—”

“—war,” Law finishes, cutting you off. His gaze flickers to you for a second before returning to the others “And we can’t afford to lose.”

You swallow hard.

Lose.

You don’t like that word. Because losing means watching everything fall apart. It means losing more people.

It means losing Law, and you’re not letting that happen.

Luffy, of course, is completely unfazed “We won’t lose.” He grins, full of confidence, full of that ridiculous faith of his “We’ve got you and Y/N with us, right?”

You blink “Huh?”

Luffy just laughs “You and Law are like, super serious about this guy. It’s personal, yeah?”

Your stomach twists.

Law goes rigid.

Luffy doesn’t seem to notice. He just grins wider “Then we’ll win for sure.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

Law doesn’t either.

But when you glance at him, when your eyes meet there’s something unspoken there, something that means, we’re in this together.

No matter what happens next.

The Thousand Sunny docks at Green Bit, just off Dressrosa’s coast. The island is as beautiful as it is deceptive with its bright skies, warm air, a paradise hiding a monster beneath.

Law stands at the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the distant city. You don’t need to ask what he’s thinking.

You already know.

You step beside him “We’re really doing this.”

Law doesn’t respond right away. Then, in a quiet voice, he says, “It’s not too late for you to stay behind.”

You scoff “Are you serious?”

“I don’t want you involved more than you have to be.”

You stare at him “Law, I’ve been looking for you for years. I followed every scrap of news, chased every rumor, just to find out if you were still alive—and now you think I’m gonna just sit this out?”

Law’s fingers twitch at his sides. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Your voice softens “I’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”

His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t argue.

Because he knows you won’t back down.

Because deep down, he doesn’t want you to.

The plan is set.

Law, Usopp, and Robin will exchange Caesar for their end of the deal with Doflamingo. Meanwhile, Luffy and the others will head into Dressrosa.

Simple.

At least, it’s supposed to be.

You’re supposed to stay with Luffy’s group. That was the agreement.

But as you step onto Dressrosa’s streets, surrounded by laughter, music, the scent of fresh food filling the air, you feel like your skin is on fire.

Like you’re walking straight into the past.

Like he’s watching you already.

You swallow hard.

Luffy is already distracted by the town’s wonders (and the scent of meat). The crew is focused on blending in. But you... you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

That something is waiting for you.

Your stomach churns. Your fists clench.

And before you know it you’re running.

Ignoring Luffy’s shout behind you. Ignoring the looks you get from people on the street.

You don’t stop.

Not until you reach the one place you know Law is supposed to be, because something tells you you don’t have time to wait.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you race through Dressrosa’s streets. The sun is bright, the people are laughing, but to you, it’s all wrong.

Your instincts scream at you that something isn’t right.

Law is walking into Doflamingo’s hands.

And you’re not about to let that happen.

You weave through the crowd, nearly knocking over a vendor’s cart. The shopkeeper yells after you, but you don’t care. You have one goal.

Find him.

You don’t know how long you run before you finally spot Law, Usopp, and Robin, standing near the bridge to Green Bit.

You barely slow down before skidding to a stop in front of them, panting “Law—!”

Law’s eyes snap to you immediately, sharp and questioning “What are you doing here?”

Robin and Usopp look confused, but you don’t have time to explain.

“You can’t go through with this” you blurt out.

Law’s expression hardens “We don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, we do!” You step closer, your chest tightening “You think Doflamingo’s just going to let this trade happen? You think he’s going to honor any kind of deal? It’s a trap, Law.”

Law doesn’t flinch. He just stares at you, completely unreadable.

“I know.”

You freeze “What?”

“I know it’s a trap,” he says calmly, like it doesn’t even matter “But we don’t have any other options.”

You feel like you’ve been punched.

“Then why are you walking into it?!” you snap, grabbing his coat “I didn’t come all this way just to watch him take you again!”

Law’s golden eyes widen, just for a second.

Then his expression shifts.

“…Take me again?”

Your breath catches.

Shit.

You didn’t mean to say that.

Law doesn’t look away “You think I wouldn’t fight?” his voice is low, measured “You think I’d let him take me?”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean?”

You bite your lip, frustration bubbling in your chest “I meant—”

I meant I can’t lose you.

I meant I’ve been chasing after you for years, and I only just got you back, and I can’t... ugh

You swallow hard, shaking your head “I meant I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Law exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose “You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

He doesn’t deny it.

But then, his expression darkens. He steps closer, voice quieter “This isn’t just about me. It never was.”

You know what he means.

Corazon.

Doflamingo.

Everything you lost.

Everything he lost.

You take a slow breath “…I’m coming with you.”

Law doesn’t argue. But his jaw tightens.

You don’t have to wait long.

The moment Law steps onto Green Bit’s bridge to make the exchange with Doflamingo, the air turns heavy.

The jungle hums with life, but everything else is too quiet. Too still.

You tense, standing just behind Law, Usopp, and Robin. Your eyes scan the treeline, your stomach twisting.

Then the sound of footsteps. And a voice you haven’t heard in years.

“Well, well…”

Your blood freezes.

A shadow steps out from the trees, a tall figure in pink feathers, grinning like a demon.

Doflamingo.

His sunglasses gleam in the light, his expression unreadable until his gaze lands on you.

He stops dead.

“…Oh?”

You grip your fists, trying not to react.

Law tenses beside you, his hand already on Kikoku.

Doflamingo’s grin widens.

“Well, now THIS is a surprise.” His voice is mocking, laced with amusement “I thought you were dead.”

Your stomach churns, but you keep your face blank “Sorry to disappoint.”

Doflamingo laughs. A low, slow chuckle, like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all day.

His eyes flick to Law.

“Didn’t know you were the sentimental type, Corazon’s little brat.”

Law’s grip tightens on his sword “Shut up.”

Doflamingo ignores him. His grin turns sharp, wolfish.

“Now it makes sense. I always wondered what kept you going after Corazon died.” His sunglasses flash as he tilts his head “Tell me, Law… how long have you been dragging your little lover into your mess?”

Your brain short-circuits “Excuse me?”

Law visibly twitches “She’s not—”

“Oh, come on.” Doflamingo smirks, stepping forward “The way you’re standing in front of her? The way she’s glaring at me like she’s ready to rip my throat out? Cute.”

Your face burns.

You point at him, scowling “First of all, you’re disgusting. Second, if I wanted you dead, you’d already be bleeding.”

Doflamingo grins wider “Spicy. No wonder Law likes you.”

Law looks murderous.

Usopp, watching from the sidelines, whispers, “Uh. Should we be here for this?”

Robin hums “It’s getting interesting.”

Meanwhile, you’re seething “Don’t act like you know anything about me.”

Doflamingo just laughs again “Oh, but I do. I remember everything, little one.” His voice drops, something darker curling beneath it.

“I remember how Corazon used to look at you two.”

Your breath catches.

Law goes rigid.

Doflamingo grins “You were both his stupid, dumb kids.”

The world feels smaller, colder.

Because you remember it too.

Corazon’s laughter. His warmth. The way he used to ruffle Law’s hair, the way he used to pull you into his coat when you were cold.

The way he died for you both.

Law’s voice is low, dangerous “Enough.”

Doflamingo chuckles “What? Can’t handle the truth?”

Your hands shake. Not from fear but from rage.

You clench your fists, stepping forward “You have no right to talk about him.”

Doflamingo smiles lazily, but his eyes are sharp “Oh, but you do?”

The words sting.

Because for years, you avoided this. Avoided thinking too hard about Corazon, about Law, about everything you lost.

You ran.

And now, it’s caught up to you.

Law moves before you can.

His sword is out, his stance set. “We’re done here.”

Doflamingo tilts his head “Oh, I don’t think so.”

And then everything happens at once.

The bridge shakes. Threads of white string shoot toward you.

And before you can react Law grabs your arm and shambles you away.

Your vision blurs. One moment, you’re staring at Doflamingo’s smug face, the next, you’re standing on the other side of the bridge.

Too far from Law.

“Damn it—!” You whip around, just in time to see threads cut through the air where you’d just been. Thin, deadly, fast.

Law dodges, barely. But his coat tears, a red line appearing on his arm.

Doflamingo laughs “Tch, still quick on your feet.”

Your stomach twists. Law is alone over there.

And Doflamingo is still smiling.

You move without thinking.

But the second you take a step forward more strings fly.

“Shit!” You barely dodge, hitting the ground in a roll. The threads slice through the bridge like butter.

Doflamingo tilts his head at you “You should be careful. I might start to think you care.”

Your teeth grind “Oh, screw you.”

Law snaps his fingers “Room.”

A blue sphere expands. He teleports to your side in an instant, his hand grabbing your wrist, tight, grounding.

“You’re reckless” he mutters.

You glare up at him “Like you’re any better?”

Law doesn’t answer. But his grip doesn’t loosen either.

Doflamingo clicks his tongue “You two really are inseparable, gives me a good idea.”

He lifts a hand and suddenly, the sky turns white.

Threads spread above you like a spider’s web, casting a shadow over the bridge.

Your heart races.

Doflamingo smiles “Let’s see if Corazon’s little brats can survive this.”

Then he brings his hand down and the web falls.

You barely see it happen.

Law’s beside you, his hand wrapped tight around your wrist, his breath ragged with effort, “Room” stretched to its limit.

Snap.

A glint of string. A flicker of movement.

And then you’re gone.

The air leaves your lungs as you’re yanked backward, the force like a hook in your gut. You scream, twisting, but the threads around your limbs are too tight. They bite into your skin, slicing deeper with every movement.

You hear Law shout your name. Hear the panic, raw and sharp in his voice.

But it’s too late.

Doflamingo is smiling.

The next thing you know, you’re slammed onto cold stone. Disoriented. Gasping.

You’re inside some kind of ornate chamber, gaudy, too gold, too bright. A palace dressed in blood.

You’re in his domain now.

Doflamingo stands above you, relaxed, calm, like this is just another game. His threads retract into his fingers with lazy grace.

“You know,” he drawls, brushing imaginary dust off his coat, “I wasn’t planning on taking any souvenirs today.”

You glare up at him, trying to get your limbs under you “I’m not a souvenir.”

He laughs amused “No, no. You’re something else, aren’t you?”

He crouches beside you, sunglasses gleaming. His grin is all teeth “You're Law’s little shadow, just as the good old times.”

You jerk back instinctively, but you’re still bound. His strings have you like shackles.

“You should’ve seen his face instead of fainting like an idiot” Doflamingo continues, voice smooth and cruel “Utter panic. I never saw him like that.”

You go still.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. And he’s enjoying every second of it.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, tilting his head like he’s studying a curiosity “You think you’re just part of this little rebellion. But you—you’re actually Law’s weakness right now. I can use Corazon’s name a million times to make Law lose control but you… you could do so much better than just that ghost.”

You don’t speak. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

He stands, turning his back to you like he’s already won “I wonder what he’ll do to get you back.”

Your chest twists because you know Law will come for you and that’s exactly what Doflamingo wants.

He gestures with one hand and the threads yank you to your feet. Your body screams in protest, muscles burning.

He leans in close.

“You two aren’t subtle, you know,” he murmurs, low and mocking “The way he looks at you? Like he’d burn the world down just to keep you breathing.”

You snap, “He’s not—”

But Doflamingo cuts you off with a smirk “Oh, but he is, little one.”

His smile turns cold “And now I have you.”

He strides to the door, tossing a glance over his shoulder “Make yourself comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

The door slams shut and you’re alone. Bleeding. Furious... Afraid.

Meanwhile Law stands in the rubble, chest heaving, blood running down his side. His haki’s fading. And you’re not there.

He’s frozen, staring at the empty space where you’d been just seconds ago.

Gone.

Doflamingo’s laughter still echoes in the trees.

Robin and Usopp are shouting, but Law doesn’t hear them.

He only hears your name.

His hand clenches around Kikoku’s hilt. Now, you are alone and it’s his fault.

You’re still in the palace when the explosion hits.

The walls tremble. A distant boom echoes through the stone. You stumble, heart racing... they’re here.

Luffy. Law.

They’re fighting him.

Your chest tightens.

You don’t know how long you’ve been here, trapped in this golden hell, toyed with like you’re just another one of Doflamingo’s games. But now, the tides are changing.

You can feel it.

Chaos tears through Dressrosa.

Luffy and Law crash through the palace in a storm of fury and fire, slamming into Doflamingo with every ounce of rage they’ve buried for years.

“You really don’t learn, do you?” Doflamingo sneers, flicking blood from his lips “Even together, you can’t kill me.”

Law’s eyes burn gold “We’re not here to kill you.”

Luffy’s fist cracks with Haki “We’re here to end you.”

And for a moment Doflamingo’s smile falters.

Then he sees you.

Dragged there mid-fight, bruised but standing tall, defiant. The guards had tried to hold you back. They failed.

His grin returns.

“Oh, you made it! I was wondering when my little distraction would show up.”

Law’s blood runs cold.

“Don’t” he warns, voice like a blade.

But Doflamingo steps toward you anyway, lifting a hand, threads spiraling through the air.

“You sure you want her in the splash zone, Law?” he says “I could snap her spine before she even blinks.”

You don’t flinch “Try it.”

But Law does move, so fast you barely see it. He’s between you and Doflamingo in a heartbeat, sword drawn, fury etched into every line of his face.

“She has nothing to do with this” he growls.

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Doflamingo chuckles “She has everything to do with this. You think I didn’t see it? Back then?” He gestures vaguely, mockingly “Two kids huddled in the dark, pretending they didn’t care about each other. You think Corazon didn’t notice? Since I couldn't see your face that day, I would love to see it now when I'll take her away from you.”

Law doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to.

Doflamingo hums “Corazon always was a sentimental idiot. Guess you inherited that too, huh?”

“You don’t get to talk about him” you snap, stepping forward.

Doflamingo’s grin stretches wider “Oh, but I do.”

And then he strikes.

Threads launch at you, impossibly fast. But Luffy is faster.

“Gomu Gomu no Jet Gatling!!”

His fists slam into the threads mid-air, tearing them apart in a blur of Haki and fury. He lands in front of you with a scowl.

“Back off, bird freak.”

You blink “Luffy!”

He throws you a crooked grin “You okay?”

You nod, breathless “Thank you.”

He turns back to Doflamingo “You leave her outta this. If you’re mad at Law, fight him. And stop talking so much, you're annoying.”

Doflamingo’s laugh is harsh “Oh, Strawhat. Playing Cupid too, huh?”

Luffy blinks “Huh? You mean… them?”

He gestures between you and Law, who, despite the blood and bruises, suddenly looks very tense.

Luffy beams “They’re cute!”

“Luffy,” you and Law say in unison “We’re not—!”

Luffy waves a hand “Yeah, yeah. Not in love... Sure, got it.”

Doflamingo cackles.

You want to sink into the floor.

Law just mutters, “Kill me already.”

But there’s no more time to argue. Because Doflamingo lifts his hand and the threads descend.

The palace trembles beneath your feet as the battle rages on.

You’re by Law’s side, ducking threads and deflecting stray attacks, your breath burning in your lungs. Luffy’s fists slam into Doflamingo again and again, but nothing sticks long, he keeps getting back up.

Then Doflamingo grins, dark and wild, and hurls a barrage of strings straight toward you.

You freeze for half a second. And that’s all it takes.

You hear Law shout your name, then “ROOM.”

Your surroundings warp in a flash of light-blue energy.

The world disappears.

When you land, you’re way far from the battlefield. Far from him.

The silence is deafening.

You stumble forward “Law?”

No answer.

Panic claws at your throat. You spin in place, trying to understand how to get back there, fast. But nothing... He cut you out of it.

He teleported you away.

You slam your fist against a stone wall, heart pounding “Damn it, I hate you Trafalgar Law! You better survive this because I need to kill you with my own hands now... UGH!”

Meanwhile, Law’s breath shudders.

Teleporting you drained the last of his energy. His hand drops to his side, fingers trembling.

“Clever,” Doflamingo says, amused “Sending your little girlfriend away. Always the noble one, huh?”

Law says nothing. He just smirks and lets the blade strike.

[ghostly-rantings]

my favourite is that "fucking with" somebody is both a good and a bad thing depending on the context- "everybody fucks with me cus im cool like that" & "nobody fucks with me cus im cool like that" mean two completely different positive things things

"nobody fucks with me :(" = sad, lonely, you have 0 friends

"nobody fucks with me 😎" you're tough or untouchable in some way, no one can harm you

"everybody fucks with me :)" = cool, popular, lots of friends

"everybody fucks with me 🤬" = you are someone who has been repeatedly been screwed over by other people or you blame everyone else for your problems

"stop fucking with me 🤬" = someone is bothering you or attempting to meddle in your life somehow

"you're fucking with me 😂" = you believe someone may be trying to trick you, and you are not falling for it

"fuck with me 😈" = you are daring them to start a fight with you

"fuck with me 😏" = you are giving the worst pickup line, ever.

"don't fuck with me 🤯" = someone has told you something mindblowing and you aren't sure if they are telling the truth or not. whether or not they are telling the truth is important to you

"don't fuck with me 😤" = you are acting tough, claiming that if someone were to pick a fight with you that they would likely lose

"i fuck with you :)" = you like that person and enjoy hanging out with them

"i fuck with you 😏" = you have some sort of romantic and/or sexual interest in this person

"im just fucking with you" = you're just joking, you didn't actually mean whatever you just said/did

"they fuck with each other" = they get along

"they fuck with each other 😏" = these two people have strong romantic and/or sexual tension between them

"theyre always fucking with each other" = these two people have a playful and joking relationship with one another, potentially teasing or pulling pranks on one another often

there's more but that's just off the top of my head

english slang is awful i would hate to be learning this shit. like the word shit. something can be horseshit or bullshit which means it's a lie. but cow shit is just poop. and something can be dogshit which means it's really bad quality. but cat shit is just poop.

[moonstruckme]

i mean if you INSISTTTTT….can we see intern reader trying to be flirty back with spence. or like them hanging out/doing something together maybe outside of work, the rest of the team can be there or not idk i just love them and your writing so much hehehe

Thanks for your request angel <3

cw: football concussion statistics? idk not trying to piss off any diehard nfl fans. oh also american football being referred to simply as football because I'm also not trying to piss off the rest of the world, and lastly some borderline HR violations

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 1k words

“Alright, Jack!” Prentiss claps, before sticking her fingers into her mouth and letting loose a piercing whistle that makes both you and Garcia flinch in surprise. 

“Way to make the extra pass, kid!” Morgan shouts across the field. 

On the other side of the grass, Hotch nods like he seconds this, though his expression stays focussed and his eyes on his players. 

“He’s getting really good,” JJ says. 

Next to you, Garcia grimaces. “I wish he’d be good at something else.” 

“Beautiful,” Morgan chides, “don’t crush the kid’s dreams.” 

“He’s just a sweet summer child! There are, like, a crazy amount of concussions in football. I’m just looking out for him.” 

“In recent years, the NFL has reported a significant decline in concussions in professional football players,” says Spencer. 

Morgan makes a smug noise. “See? He’ll be alright.”

“But,” you raise your voice hesitantly, “wouldn’t the NFL have a bit of incentive to report that?” 

You’re looking at Spencer out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze, lips quirking. 

“Exactly,” he says. “That’s what I think, too. Independent studies have been less favorable.” 

Garcia mimics Morgan’s smug noise, victorious. Before she remembers to be worried and frowns again. 

Morgan laughs. “Hey, I didn’t sign him up. Jack likes football, you gonna tell him to quit?” 

Garcia comes back at him with some teasing remark, but you’re distracted by Spencer’s eyes still on yours. He’s looking at you like there’s something he can’t quite make sense of, which is happening so often lately it’s almost laughable. You have the most obvious crush in the world, and certifiable genius Spencer Reid can’t figure you out. 

You look away first. 

It’s sort of humiliating, how things have escalated between you in the last week. Every bit of that is your fault. You know it’s not professional, but you’ve spent lots of time thinking about it, and really a bit of flirting isn’t so bad if you know nothing is going to come of it. It’s harmless. Spencer is just so, so nice to you, you can’t help but want to be nice back; walking the line between friendly and something-else sort of comes with the territory. You would never actually endanger your position at the BAU. You only want Spencer to feel as special as he makes you feel. He deserves that. 

First it was bringing him breakfast after he helped you prepare your testimony. You wanted to thank him, so you picked up some breakfast tacos like he said he used to have back home in Las Vegas, and so what if you only know that because you’ve spent so much time chatting together? You’re training to be a profiler, remembering details is part of your job. Then you started complimenting him more, which was really just giving yourself permission to say your quiet thoughts out loud, making genuine observations about his taste in psychologists and the care he shows for witnesses even when the whole team is in a rush. And then maybe you began letting him teach you some things about chess even though you’ve never been interested in the game before, and bumping his knee gently under the table when he’s rambling without realizing everyone else has already moved on, and exchanging little smiles when you both look up from your desks at the same time. So what? None of that is a fireable offence. 

“I’m gonna go get water,” Spencer says, standing and starting to descend the metal bleachers. 

“Can you grab me one?” Prentiss asks. The rest of your team immediately chimes in with their requests, and you take a step down from the bleachers as well. 

“Want help?” you ask. 

Spencer seems to have been picturing the same thing you have: him coming back from the cooler in Garcia’s trunk with arms overflowing with plastic bottles, leaving a trail of them all the way back to the bleachers. He looks relieved. “Please.” 

You hop down, unable to look him in the eye when you take the hand he offers you for the last couple of steps. The sun is out in full force today, glinting off the metal of the bleachers and every car in the parking lot. The pavement radiates heat. 

Spencer hovers a hand above his eyes. “I wasn’t made for this.” 

“It’s a hot one,” you agree. 

“If Jack had a different hobby, we could be inside at a science fair right now. With air conditioning.” 

You chance a look at him. “Isn’t being involved in sports good for kids?” 

Spencer shrugs, though you’re sure he knows the answer. “I turned out okay.” 

Your lips tug. There’s no denying that. 

“Here.” You take off the baseball cap you’d put on for the game, holding it out for him as he pops open Garcia’s trunk. You pray to God the hat isn’t sweaty. 

Spencer only looks at it, surprised. “Oh, I—that’s okay. I’ll be fine.” 

“No, look.” You take a pair of sunglasses out of your bag, putting them on. “See? Now neither of us will have the sun in our eyes.” 

“Really?” Spencer asks, only taking the bill of the cap in hand once you nod. He settles it on his head like it’s his first time wearing one. “Thanks. Do I look stupid?” 

You shake your head, staring. “You look good,” you say. It comes out unchecked, before you can think about it. God, you’re so obvious. It’s true, though. Spencer’s still squinting a little even with the shade over his eyes, but it’s relaxed some; it reminds you of the way he looks when he’s puzzling something out. You’re hopelessly endeared by it. His hair, grown to what Garcia lovingly calls boy band length, wings out of the sides of the cap. Practically begging to be coiled around your index finger. 

“Thanks,” Spencer says again, the faintest tinge of pink—which can probably be attributed to the beginnings of a sunburn—kissing his cheeks. 

Bashfulness softens your voice. “No problem.” 

He opens the cooler, starting to scoop up waters and sports drinks (though one of the team moms is supplying drinks for the kids, Garcia had packed for you all like you’d be on the field too). Condensation drips down Spencer’s wrists. 

“Thanks for helping with this, too,” he says. 

“Pretty sure this is what interns are for,” you joke as you grab some too. 

“Always undermining yourself,” Spencer chides, something almost like teasing in his voice. It makes your stomach crowd with butterflies. “You know you’re more than that to us.”

[myinaru]

Childhood Best Friend Complex

You and Heeseung have been best friends forever. Emphasis on forever. Like, learned-how-to-walk-together type of forever. But college throws a wrench into your usual routine: one night blurs a line that was never supposed to move, and suddenly, everything feels different. Now there’s weird tension, awkward silences, and unspoken things you’re both too stubborn to say out loud. You don’t know what’s worse, pretending nothing’s changed or admitting everything has. Because staying friends? That was always the plan. Wanting more? That was never supposed to happen.

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 39.6k Total (14.4k - Part 1)

Warnings: Dry humping (hell yeah), Corny maybe idc, Lots of misunderstanding, Mentions of multiple kpop idols, Cursing, Cunnilingus, Unprotected sex (pls don't), Praising, Heeseung is a yearner, Lmk if I missed anything lol

Author's Note: First time uploading here lol. This fic was heavily inspired by the manhwa/webtoon Childhood Friend Complex. I'll be splitting it into three parts since Tumblr won't let me post it in one go. Hope y'all enjoy T-T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You and Heeseung had spent twenty chaotic years crashing into each other. Bickering, teasing, arguing like it was your first language. Now, you were slumped on the floor of his dorm, drunk and quiet, knees touching, the air between you strangely charged.

Heeseung didn’t move much. Just watched you with wide, unreadable eyes. His hand crept toward yours slowly, like even the thought of reaching for you was too loud. His fingers brushed yours. Then stopped.

His breath hit your cheek. It was warm. Uneven. And then, in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he said, “Do you... want to kiss?”

No smirk. No teasing. Just fear, and something he couldn’t hide fast enough. He’d never say it unless he thought you might say yes. Because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know how to come back from it.

You froze, confused. “You’re drunk,” you said with a nervous laugh, nudging his arm.

Heeseung’s expression tightened. A flash of hurt crossed his face before he forced a laugh, too sharp to be real. “Yeah, I’m drunk. Fuck, Y/n. You really think...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Forget it. Stupid idea.”

He started to pull away, but his reflexes were off. His knee bumped into yours, and he hissed. More from the weight of rejection than pain. “Fuck. Stupid,” he muttered, catching himself against the wall. His eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem? Why are you... you never... God, forget it.”

You furrowed your brows, head spinning slightly. You grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

He stiffened at your touch, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just stared at you, searching your face like he was trying to read every single thought behind your eyes. His hand twitched in yours, like he wanted to pull you close but was holding back.

“Don’t play games with me,” he said softly, dangerously quiet. “Not tonight. Not after...” He swallowed hard. “God, Y/n. If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t know if I can...”

He broke off with a strangled sound, forehead leaning against yours. “Tell me I’m being stupid,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me it’s just the alcohol.”

You swallowed. “It might be the alcohol... but I’m not telling you I don’t want it. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore... Can’t we just not regret this tomorrow?”

He went still. His heart felt like it stopped before thundering back to life. “That... that’s not—I mean...” he stammered, hands trembling slightly as he brought them to your face. His thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones. “Are you serious right now?”

His voice was rough, thick with emotion he rarely let show. His eyes searched yours intently, looking for any trace of hesitation. “Because if this is real... if you actually want...” He swallowed again. “Shit, Y/n. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him.

The moment your lips met, he let out a shaky gasp. His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling as he kissed you back with a desperate intensity. It was messy, passionate, tongue and teeth, hunger barely held back.

A small moan escaped him, muffled against your lips. His body pressed flush to yours, fitting like a puzzle piece that had always been missing. One of his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers digging into your shirt as he pulled you closer.

When you broke apart for air, he was panting, eyes dark with desire. He rested his forehead against yours.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that. How many times I’ve imagined it,” he said.

You smirked, resting your finger against his lips. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”

He nipped at your finger lightly, his teeth grazing the skin. His eyes locked with yours, full of heat and promise.

“No regrets,” he murmured. “Not tonight. Not with you.”

Then he kissed you again, hard. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you onto his lap. The position pressed your bodies together, and he groaned into your mouth.

“I want you,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I want you so fucking much, Y/n. Want to feel you, taste you, make you mine.” His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare back. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You mirrored his touch, sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the toned muscle beneath. As you moved closer, you felt his erection press against you.

Heeseung sucked in a breath. His muscles tensed under your fingers. When you rolled your hips against his, his reaction was immediate, hips bucking, breath catching. “Y/n…” he groaned. “That feels so good. You’re killing me.” His hands held your hips tighter, guiding your movements, slow and deliberate. You could feel every hard inch of him, even through the layers.

“I bet you’d look so pretty riding me,” he panted into your neck, kissing along your throat. “Bet you’d take me so well. I want to feel you squeeze around me. Fall apart on my dick.” One hand came up to cup your breast, fingers kneading the soft flesh through your bra.

You let out a shaky breath, grinding harder.

He let out a low growl of appreciation, helping you move against him. “That’s it. Take what you need. Fuck, the way you move...” His thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric, sending heat straight to your core. He pinched and rolled it, his other hand still firm on your hip. “I want to watch you fall apart,” he murmured. “Want to hear you moan my name.”

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you whimpered his name, picking up the pace.

Heeseung gasped, thrusting up to meet you. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect. Such a good girl for me.” His hand slid up your back and into your hair, tugging gently. The other dipped into your pants, under your underwear, gripping your ass firmly. “If you keep doing that,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, “I’m gonna come in my pants.”

You smirked. “That’s honestly a turn on.”

He shuddered, overwhelmed. He looked at you, eyes dark and blown wide. “It is? You like knowing how much I want you?” He ground against you harder, letting you feel every inch of him. “Because I’m so fucking close. You’re gonna make me explode in these jeans.” His thumb pressed against your clit, slow circles over your underwear. “Think you can make me come like this? Grinding until I lose it? Bet you’d love feeling me twitch against your pretty pussy.”

You bit your lip, meeting his rhythm. “I know you’ll cum for me. You always do what I tell you, don’t you? Just like the good little boy you are.”

Heeseung let out a strangled moan, body seizing. “Oh fuck...Y/n... I’m cumming!” He buried his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the cry. His cock pulsed and twitched, hot release soaking his pants as he clung to you. Your name fell from his lips in broken whimpers.

You came with him, body shuddering, head falling to his shoulder. “Ngh... fuck... so tired...” you mumbled.

Heeseung smiled, exhausted but content. He held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He shifted, laying back on the bed and pulling you with him. After dressing you in spare clothes, he cleaned himself up and returned to curl beside you.

He watched you sleep, your face peaceful, before sleep took him too. Still half-drunk, halfaware.

The screeching of your alarm feels like a knife in your skull. You reach for your phone, slapping it down with a groan, but the damage is done. Your head’s pounding, and it feels like the world’s spinning under you.

Beside you, Heeseung groans, the sound muffled by the pillow he’s half-smothered in. “Ugh. Shut it up,” he mutters, flinging his arm over his face like it’ll save him.

You don’t even have the energy to respond. Your hand moves instinctively to your forehead, trying to ease the ache that feels like it’s about to split your brain in two.

Heeseung shifts, throwing his arm away from his eyes. He squints at you through the haze, his face scrunched up in discomfort. “Oh my god,” he groans dramatically, his voice barely more than a croak. “I think I might actually die today.”

You don’t even respond at first. Your mind is too busy reeling, trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. It’s like watching a movie in slow motion, the details fading in and out.

And then, bam. It all comes rushing back.

You dry-humped your best friend.

You don't even know where to begin. Last night was a blur of alcohol and hormones and bad decisions. Your hands on his chest. His breath hitching. Your bodies moving together in the dim light. His voice in your ear. Your best friend, your dumb, sweet, annoying, beautiful best friend had his hands all over you.

And you… let him.

No.

You wanted him to.

You groan again, burying a pillow over your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heeseung mutters, still not fully opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?” You yank the pillow away and look at him. “What the hell was last night, Heeseung?”

That gets his attention. He blinks at you like a deer in headlights. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Oh shit.”

He bolts upright, sheets falling away. “Wait- we didn’t, right? We didn’t actually-?” He gestures wildly.

“No!” you say too fast. “God, no. But we… we dry humped each other for, like, an hour, on the floor.”

Heeseung flops back, groaning into the pillow now. “Kill me. Just end it. Right here. I’ll leave you my gaming chair in my will.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

“You started it!” you snap.

“You climbed on top of me!”

“You pulled me down!”

“You were grinding!”

“You moaned!”

Heeseung yelps, shoving the pillow into his face. “Shut up!”

The pillow shifts just enough for him to peek at you. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t even-” he blurts. A beat. Then quieter: “Well, maybe.”

He lets the pillow fall into his lap, deflating like a kicked balloon. “God. That was so stupid. So, so stupid. What do we even do now?”

You wince at the memory of what you said last night. Every detail’s still painfully vivid. “Well... we said no regrets, right?” Your voice comes out careful, uncertain. “We agreed.”

Heeseung goes quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the floor. Then he gives a small nod, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Right. No regrets.”

He rubs a hand through his hair, only making the mess worse. “So... we’re good? Still friends and everything?”

“Only if you swear, we never mention the phrase ‘dry-humped’ in front of each other again.”

“Deal.” His voice wavers, just enough to give him away. “Because honestly, if we’re not anymore, I might actually combust right here.”

You snort, reaching for the nearest pillow and tossing it at him. “You’re so dramatic. I’m not gonna throw away twenty years of friendship just because we almost-”

Your voice catches. You clear your throat and stand up instead. You only realize then, you’re wearing his hoodie. Not yours. Definitely not yours. It hangs oversized on your frame, soft and warm. You glance at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushing.

Heeseung catches on too, eyes widening. “Oh, uh- yeah. Sorry about the clothes. You would have been sleeping in your outside clothes and I blurred out and just- gave you that. I didn’t look. I swear.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He makes a strangled noise and looks away. “Okay, well, want breakfast or something? I heard food helps with hangovers.”

You take one last glance at yourself in the mirror before nodding. “Thanks, by the way. I didn’t bring pajamas, so… appreciate it.” You point toward the bathroom. “Can I shower here?”

Heeseung nods quickly, still red in the face. “Yeah. Of course. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Shampoo and stuff’s in there too.”

You start walking past him, and he inhales, just a little too deeply. You catch it. His laundry soap mixed with your perfume lingers between you.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, stopping you just before you disappear into the bathroom. His voice softens. “About last night… I’m glad it didn’t mess anything up. You’re sickeningly important to me or whatever, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, ignoring how your stomach flips at how disgustingly earnest he says your name.

“Me too,” you reply. “It’d be a waste to throw twenty years down the drain over one really… weird night.”

Heeseung exhales, like he’s been holding that breath all morning. “Exactly. Besides,” he adds, a small smile forming, “who else would put up with me and feed me when I’m too hungover to move?”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth lifts. “You’re such a loser.”

“Yeah, well, you love it,” he retorts with a laugh, clearly relieved. “Now go take your shower before the water goes cold, princess.”

You snicker as you close the door behind you. “Stop calling me that! You’re so fucking weird when you’re nice.”

Heeseung’s laughter rings out from the other side of the door. “I can’t believe you’re still talking back while you’re in the bathroom. What kind of weirdo are you?”

You hear him flop onto the bed again as the shower water turns on, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. “I can’t believe I dry-humped my best friend. Classic Heeseung,” he mutters to himself, clearly still cringing.

After about twenty minutes, you both finished getting ready, falling into silence, moving like you had been doing this forever. You didn’t talk much, just small comments and glances over breakfast before going to the university together.

By the time you reached campus, there was barely any time left before classes started.

Without much choice, the two of you split ways. Different departments, different buildings. Still, that parting tugged at something. Maybe it was how reluctant Heeseung looked, or the way his eyes lingered a second too long.

Heeseung, for his part, couldn’t focus all day.

His professors might as well have been speaking gibberish. He found himself zoning out midlecture, thumb absentmindedly grazing the edge of his notebook as images of last night kept flashing in his mind. The way your voice softened when you were sleepy. The heat of your skin when you leaned too close.

He was still stuck in that daze by lunchtime, hovering near the cafeteria entrance with his tray in hand, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. You were seated by the window, halfheartedly poking your food with your expression unreadable. He hesitated.

Should he join you? Would that be weird?

After a moment of internal chaos, he sucked it up and walked over, plopping down across from you like it was no big deal.

"Hey," he said, voice casual but eyes hesitant. "Didn’t know if you wanted company. Didn’t wanna be annoying."

You didn’t even look up right away, just poked at your food with a spoon. Then you smirked. “I was literally looking for you earlier. Then I gave up 'cause I got lazy." He blinked in surprise. That made his shoulders relax just a little.

"You know," you added, finally meeting his eyes, "what’s with you lately? You’re acting weird. You’re never this... nice. It’s freaking me out."

Heeseung sat up straighter, hand pausing mid-bite. "I’m not nice? Wow, okay. Maybe I’m just trying something new. Ever thought of that?"

"There he is," you said with a laugh, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder a little too hard. "There’s the asshole I grew up with. Thought I lost you for a second."

Heeseung winced and rubbed his shoulder. "Ow. You trying to dislocate my arm? Damn. You're lucky I even tolerate you. Especially with that garbage personality of yours."

But you caught it, that flicker in his eyes when you touched him, even briefly. The twitch of his lips he tried to suppress when you teased him back.

Things might’ve continued that way, comfortable, familiar. If only Jay hadn’t suddenly flopped into the seat next to Heeseung.

"Dude. Be real with me. Are you dating her or what?"

Your fork froze mid-air. Heeseung choked on his water.

"What?! No- what are you-" He looked between you and Jay, a bit panicked. "We’re just friends! Why would you even-?"

Jay shrugged. "I mean, the way you two bicker like an old married couple? Come on. And the rumors are already everywhere."

You raised a brow, glancing at Heeseung. "Who in their right mind would think I’d date him?"

"Excuse you," Heeseung shot back, glaring. "I’d rather shove my head in a blender than date some clingy, passive-aggressive- ow, god!" He hissed as you kicked him under the table.

Jay just watched with a grin. "You two are exhausting."

Then his grin widened as he leaned closer to Heeseung. "But since you’re not dating her, does that mean Jung Yeri’s got a shot with you?"

You blinked. That name made your stomach do something unfamiliar and ugly.

Heeseung visibly tensed. "What? Why are you even-?"

"Dude," Jay laughed. "She’s been all over you. Pretty sure half the class already thinks you two are a thing."

Right on cue, a girl that looked suspiciously like Jung Yeri sauntered by. She tossed Heeseung a slow, deliberate wink before settling at a table nearby.

Jay elbowed him again. "Go talk to her! You’re blowing it!"

But Heeseung looked like he’d just been cornered by a wild animal.

You tried not to laugh. Honestly, you really tried. But your hand twitched and your lips curled as you bit down on the inside of your cheek. It was a struggle not to smirk as you watched him flail.

"I- no," Heeseung said abruptly, voice sharper than he meant. "I’m not into her."

Jay blinked. "Seriously? She’s not your type?"

Heeseung let out a strangled sound, running his hand through his hair. "She’s fine, I guess, but I’m not... I do not like. I’m already-"

His eyes flicked toward you, just briefly.

"...interested in someone else."

Your hand paused on your tray. You glanced up at him, lips parting slightly, but you said nothing.

Jay, of course, was relentless. "What? Since when?! Who?"

Heeseung mumbled something, but it was too low for anyone to catch.

Jay leaned closer. "Huh?"

Heeseung snapped, "It’s none of your business!"

You finally cracked. The laugh escaped before you could catch it, loud and unfiltered. You covered your mouth, turning your head, shoulders shaking.

Heeseung glared. "What’s so funny?!"

Jay smirked like the puzzle pieces finally clicked. "Wait a second... it’s her, isn’t it? You’ve got it bad for Y/n."

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink again. "What?! No!" he barked. "I don’t like her like that!" You only laughed harder, tears starting to prick your eyes from holding it in.

Jay turned to you. "Is that true? You two really aren’t into each other?"

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, calming down enough to deadpan, "The only day I’d be into him is if the world ended and we were the last people alive."

Heeseung’s smirk wobbled for a second. "Right back at you. I’d rather eat glass than date you."

Jay shook his head and stood. "Y’all are full of it. Anyway, I’ve got class. Try not to murder each otherwhile I’m gone."

Once he left, the tension stayed behind. Quieter, but heavier somehow.

You leaned in. “Really? You like someone who’s not Yeri?”

Heeseung stiffened, his eyes darting to yours. He opened his mouth, closed it, then scowled and looked away.

“Why do you care?” he muttered. “It’s not like it matters.”

You grinned. “Are you sure Yeri isn’t this mystery lady you secretly like?”

“Oh God, no way!” he blurted, then winced. “I mean, she’s… not my type. At all.”

He picked at his rice like it offended him. “I don’t even know why you’re asking. It’s not like I’m going to tell you who it is.”

You shrugged, standing to set your tray aside. “Do whatever you want. Although…” you smirked as you leaned your chin on your palm, “I do hope your virgin ass finally gets laid.” Heeseung’s head snapped up. “EXCUSE ME?!” he nearly yelled.

Everyone turned. He ducked down, voice hissing now. “I am not a virgin! And even if I was, that’s none of your business!” He crossed his arms. “Besides, you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you even went on a date?”

Your smile fell. “Hey! For your information, I’m actually set to go on a group date with my friends this Friday.”

His expression darkened instantly. “A group date?” he reiterated. “Since when are you into that kind of thing? I thought you hated crowds.” He leaned closer, tone sharp. “And who exactly are you going with? Do I know them? Are they even decent people?”

You crossed your arms. “Why do you care? And besides, it’s about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend.”

Heeseung’s hands tightened around the edge of the table. He forced a laugh, bitter, hollow. “Yeah. Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.”

Then, he stood up, abruptly, chair scraping loudly behind him. His tray clattered as he grabbed it. “I have to go. Class starts soon.”

You frowned. “Hey-”

But he was already walking away.

You blinked, confused. “You don’t even have afternoon classes today…” You shook your head, carrying your tray to the bin. You frowned as you watched him storm off, tray in hand and tension radiating from every step.

The doors clattered shut behind him.

You stood there for a few seconds, tray still in your hands, like your brain hadn’t caught up to your body yet. Heeseung never walked away from an argument. He lived for comebacks, lived for that smug look he always wore when he got the last word.

So why now?

You blinked, startled by the tight knot forming in your chest. Was it something you said? You turned slowly toward the trash bins, tossing your leftovers away, but your mind wasn’t really on autopilot like it usually was. You weren’t thinking about your next class. Not even about what Jay said or how half the cafeteria had stared at you when Heeseung yelled about not being a virgin.

No, all your thoughts were stuck back at the table. Replaying the way his eyes darkened when you brought up the group date. The way his jaw tensed. That laugh that wasn’t a real laugh, more like something brittle, something breaking.

And then he’d left. Just… walked out.

You stood by the bins, fingers loosely gripping the edge, your tray empty but your head full of noise. The kind of silence that rings in your ears when everything around you moves on and you’re just… stuck.

You leaned against the counter, letting out a slow breath as your thoughts started spiraling.

Why was he upset?

Sure, you teased him. You always did. That wasn’t new. Neither was him teasing back.

But this time…this time he’d gotten weirdly defensive. About Yeri. About you going on a date. About everything, really.

He always called you annoying, or brat, or headache, but he’d never looked angry. Not like that.

Not like someone who was… hurt.

You stared at the floor.

And then it hit you, an idea awfully insane, and kind of stupid.

He was acting jealous.

The word lodged itself in your brain like a splinter.

No. No way. That didn’t make sense. This was Heeseung. He’d rather die than admit he liked anyone. Heeseung, who called you a cockroach just last week when you stole his fries.

Heeseung, who once said he’d sooner become a monk than date you.

Still, you couldn’t shake it.

That look in his eyes when you joked about finally getting a boyfriend.

That silence.

The way he’d refused to look at you when he said, “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

You slowly made your way out of the cafeteria, feet dragging more than usual. Your fingers were twitchy, like they wanted to text him, but you couldn’t even think of what you’d say.

And still, that question kept circling back in your head.

Annoying. Shitty. Question.

He’s not… jealous… is he?

Heeseung didn’t even remember how he got back to his dorm. One second he was standing in the cafeteria, hearing you joke about getting a boyfriend, and the next he was outside, walking blindly through campus with his fists jammed deep in his pockets.

The cold didn't help. If anything, it made his thoughts sharper, more jagged.

It's about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend. He could still hear it. Like a punchline he wasn’t in on.

He kicked a stray rock across the sidewalk, watching it bounce into the bushes.

“Stupid,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “So fucking stupid.”

He didn’t know what pissed him off more, the thought of you with some guy from that group date or the fact that he had no right to be this upset in the first place. You weren’t his. You never had been.

But that didn’t stop his chest from tightening every time he imagined you laughing with someone else. Sitting beside him. Holding his hand.

Heeseung cursed under his breath as he shoved his dorm room door open and slammed it shut behind him. He let himself fall face-first onto his bed, eyes burning holes into the ceiling.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Not after everything that happened.

Not after that night.

Your lips. The way you melted into him. The way your hands gripped his hoodie like you didn’t want to let go.

He let out a groan and buried his face into his pillow.  

What the hell were you even thinking?

He wanted to text you. Apologize maybe. Pretend it didn’t matter. But every time he picked up his phone, his thumbs froze, and the words disappeared.

So instead, he just laid there. Let the ache sit with him like it had every night since.

You walked into class like you were wearing a mask.

Blouse tucked in. Skirt straightened. Smile tight.

Everything looked fine from the outside. But inside? Your brain had been on a loop for hours, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened with Heeseung.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. Friends fight. You probably just hit a nerve. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe you’d said something wrong.

Maybe-

“Earth to Y/n.”

You blinked, startled, as Vicky waved her hand in front of your face.

“You've been staring at your notebook like it's gonna write itself,” she said with a giggle. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile. “Uhm… yeah. Just thinking about... things.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “Things,” she repeated. “Uh-huh. Right. Like how you’ve been zoning out since you sat down. Does this have anything to do with that guy you’re always with?”

Your smile froze. “What- Heeseung? No, why would-”

She gasped softly. “Oh my god, it is about him.”

Before you could argue, she clapped her hands excitedly. “Perfect timing! Don’t forget, our group blind date’s this Friday. You have to invite him. I bet he'd totally get along with my friends. Or maybe you two can date each other and pretend it's a blind date.”

You stiffened. “Woah, slow down. Heeseung and I? That’s… we’re like family. Literally. I’ve known him since I was in diapers.”

Vicky pouted, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a shame. You guys would be stupid cute together.” You rolled your eyes, but the weird twist in your gut didn’t go away.

“And hey,” she added teasingly, voice low, “if you’re really not interested… is he fair game?” You whipped your head toward her so fast your hair slapped your shoulder.

Vicky laughed nervously, holding her hands up. “Kidding! Kidding. I know better than to go after someone you’re protective of.”

You turned back to your notes, pretending to write something. But the words blurred together.

Why did that bother you so much?

Heeseung could date whoever he wanted. You didn’t care. You shouldn’t care. And yet the thought of him sitting next to some girl on Friday made you want to scream.

It didn’t make sense.

Your fingers gripped your pen tighter.

The rest of the class passed in a haze. Vicky tossing in ideas for venues and flirty outfit suggestions while you nodded absently, stuck inside your own head.

By the time you got home, the sun was already setting, casting warm shadows on your walls.

You dropped your bag on the couch and kicked off your shoes, but something soft hit your thigh as you moved.

You reached in and pulled out the fabric.

Heeseung’s hoodie.

Of course.

You exhaled slowly, running your fingers across the soft sleeves. It still smelled like him. Laundry detergent and something warm underneath.

You didn’t want to see him. Not yet. Not when your heart still felt like it was in a blender and you didn’t know why.

But now you had an excuse to. And that irritated you more than it should.

“Whatever,” you muttered, tossing it in the laundry and pretending like that settled something.

It didn’t.

The next few days passed like molasses. Slow. Heavy. Tense.

Neither of you texted.

Neither of you reached out.

You kept telling yourself that was fine. That this wasn’t weird. That everything was totally normal.

But it wasn’t.

Every time your phone buzzed; your heart jumped. Every time it wasn’t him, it sank.

Heeseung was the same. Pretending he was busy. Pretending he wasn’t checking his phone every ten minutes. Pretending he didn’t care that the hoodie you wore while falling asleep in his arms was gone.

Denial was easier.

Until Friday rolled around. The day of the group date.

And neither of you could deny anything anymore.

The day of the group blind date crawled by, but you felt the weight of it like a countdown.

You spent the morning aimlessly cleaning, second-guessing your outfit, and chewing on your lip as you stared at your phone. Still no text. Not that you expected one. Not really.

Meanwhile, somewhere across campus, Heeseung was pretending to be busy. Doing laps around his dorm, rearranging laundry that was already folded, and slamming his fridge shut multiple times for no reason. Every task he did had one purpose: stalling.

Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself.

You heard the doorbell just as you were zipping up your boots. When you opened it, your breath hitched.

There he was, standing stiffly outside your apartment, a black tote bag dangling from one hand. He looked like he didn’t want to be there, and also like he’d explode if he didn’t show up.

“Hey,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes. “You left your clothes. From that night.”

You blinked, confused for a second, then glanced down at the bag. Your cheeks warmed. “Oh. Right.” You stepped back, your voice smaller than intended. “Thanks... wait here a sec.”

You ducked inside, grabbing his pajamas off your bed and stuffing them into the bag. When you returned, he was still standing there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks for lending me this too,” you mumbled, holding out the bag again.

Heeseung nodded, his jaw tight. He took it wordlessly. His fingers brushed yours. Then, after a beat too long, he said, “You look…”

He didn’t finish right away. His gaze dropped again. To the dress. The earrings. Your exposed collarbone.

“You look nice.” The words left his mouth like he hated them. “For your date, I mean.” He cleared his throat, jaw working. “Have fun or whatever.” You froze.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. Like there was something else he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“I should go,” he said, turning away. “Don’t want to make you late.”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving you staring at the closed door, mentally cursing yourself for not saying more.

You stared at the shut door for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt like something important had been said. And also, like nothing had.

By the time your Uber pulled up, your nerves had twisted into a tight coil behind your ribs. You tried to shake it off as you headed to the restaurant. But that all flew out the window the second you walked through the doors.

Because standing near the entrance, tray in hand, was Heeseung.

Your jaw dropped. “You? Wait. You work here?”

His eyes went wide as they landed on you, like you’d just punched him in the gut. “Y/n-? Yeah. Part-time.”

“You never told me-”

“I did,” he muttered, flushing and avoiding your gaze. “Maybe you just didn’t listen.”

You blinked, thrown off. “Since when?”

“Since-… whatever.” His voice was clipped, like he was trying too hard to act unaffected. “Needed the money. Free food. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Before you could respond, someone from the back called out: “Lee! Table 7!”

He exhaled through his nose, already turning away. “Gotta go. Enjoy your date.”

And just like that, he was gone again. Vanishing between tables, his apron swaying as he moved. You barely had time to process it when Vicky waved you over. She was already seated with another girl you knew, makeup perfect, and surrounded by three guys. One of whom slid a drink toward you as you sat down.

The night crawled forward.

Your date was… fine.

Well, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was cute. Tall. Had that clean-cut kind of look, the kind you’re supposed to want. The kind that makes your friends nudge you under the table and whisper “Okay, not bad.” And he was nice, in a way that felt... practiced? Like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Smiled on cue. Laughed when he was supposed to. Asked questions, but only the easy ones, your major, your favorite movie, if you liked dogs or cats. Surface-level stuff. Like we were speedrunning a personality quiz.

You nodded. Smiled. Even laughed a few times. But it didn’t feel like anything.

The whole time, your brain kept running in circles. You kept comparing everything he did to Heeseung, without meaning to. Without even realizing I was doing it at first.

Like when he leaned in and grinned that too-perfect smile? All you could think about was how Heeseung’s smile was kind of lopsided and usually only came out when he was genuinely amused. The real kind. The one where his nose scrunches a little and he tries to hide it behind his hand like it’s embarrassing.

Or when your date started talking about his internship and humblebragging like it was his whole personality. Meanwhile, Heeseung would rather choke than talk about himself like that. He’s so annoying about hiding how hard he works, like it’s something to be ashamed of. But at least when he says something, you know it means something.

And then there was this moment. God, it was so dumb, when your date reached across the table and tried to brush something off your sleeve, real casual. Like in the dramas. Except it didn’t feel sweet. It felt…wrong.

Because your first instinct wasn’t butterflies.

It was Heeseung would’ve made fun of me first.

He would’ve been like, “You wore that? You look like you lost a bet.” And then when you’d pout and hit his arm, he’d sneakily fix whatever it was while you were distracted. That was just how we were.

But this guy? He kept making these flirty comments toward Vicky like you weren’t sitting right there. At one point, he asked her what kind of guys she liked, while you were talking midsentence. Like, what are you? A chair?

And you just sat there, drinking your watered-down cocktail, smiling through your teeth while your insides twisted into knots.

Because the real reason you weren’t having fun?

Wasn’t the bad flirting.

Wasn’t the recycled jokes.

Wasn’t the fact that you had more chemistry with the damn napkin holder.

It was because he wasn’t Heeseung.

He didn’t get under your skin the same way. He didn’t make your heartbeat stumble just by looking in your direction. He didn’t have that stupid habit of calling you by a nickname only he could get away with. He didn’t make you want to argue just so you could hear him talk back.

He didn’t make you feel like yourself.

And maybe that was the scariest part. Sitting across from someone perfectly decent, someone that everyone else would probably think is a catch, and realizing that the only person you wanted to talk to about it... was the same person you were trying so hard not to think about.

And it sucked. Because you didn’t know what that meant.

Not really.

You just knew you were halfway through a third drink, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, smiling at a guy who wasn’t him. And the whole time, your eyes kept drifting to where Heeseung was working across the room.

Not looking at you once.

And that’s when it hit you.

Maybe he was trying not to look too.

By the time dessert came around, you were on your fifth glass of whatever fruity cocktail they'd ordered for you. The alcohol was warm in your stomach, and your thoughts were a slow spin cycle. You laughed at your date’s joke, but it didn’t reach your eyes. It didn’t reach your heart.

Because part of you was still stuck at your front door, with Heeseung not saying what you both knew he wasn’t ready to admit.

When the night finally wound down, the group staggered toward the exit. You tried to play it cool, but your legs were shaky and your head swam.

You didn’t even notice you were stumbling until a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, watch it.” Heeseung’s voice, low and sharp with concern, cut through the noise like a tether. “You’re seriously drunk.”

You looked up at him, lips pouting as your balance wobbled again. “The date sucked,” you mumbled. “He was annoying.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “You were laughing. You looked fine.”

“I wasn’t.”

He cursed under his breath and guided you to a bench near the side of the restaurant. You slumped down, grateful for something solid. He knelt in front of you, one hand on your knee to steady himself. “What happened?” he asked, quieter now. “Did he do something?”

You shook your head lazily. “No, just...”  

There was a long pause, way too long like your brain and your heart were fighting against each other.

“He wasn’t you.” Ah. Now we know who won.

The words fell out before you could stop them, and the way his expression shifted for just a fraction of a second told you he didn’t expect that. But Heeseung quickly masked it, shrugging nonchalantly, like it didn’t matter.

“Right,” he muttered, almost too quickly. “Well, you’re really drunk. Don’t go saying weird stuff.” He stood up slightly, glancing at the rest of the group in the distance, then back at you.

You didn’t want to let it slide. “You’re acting different,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing as you stared up at him, trying to focus. “You’re being... too considerate. Like I’m someone special, and I don’t like it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours, an unreadable expression crossing his face for a moment. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay,” he said, voice quieter, a little more strained than usual. “You’re barely keeping yourself upright. What do you want me to do, huh?”

You didn’t back down. “I want you to stop being nice,” you said, your voice slurred but clear enough. “It’s confusing. You’re supposed to be a jerk.”

There was a long, tense pause, and you almost didn’t notice it, but the way his face softened for just a second made your heart skip. He stood there, his posture stiff, but his eyes were searching yours, something vulnerable flickering behind his usual mask.

“Why?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and you could tell it caught him off guard. “Why does it bother you?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the raw honesty of the moment, but you decided to let the words spill before you could stop them.

“Because if you keep being nice to me like this... I might-” you murmured, the weight of the confession crashing over you as the words slipped out. “I might actually start liking you.”

The silence that followed felt almost suffocating. Heeseung froze, his expression unreadable. You felt your body sag with the realization of what you’d just said, and the alcohol finally hit you like a wave. Your vision blurred as your head dropped back against the bench, and before you could even process the weight of your own words, your body gave out.

You didn’t even hear Heeseung call your name. You just felt his hands steadying you, but everything went black.

Everything that followed was a haze.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember being moved. But when your eyes blinked open, the light stung a little, and you were surrounded by something familiar, but not yours.

It took a second to realize you were in Heeseung’s bed.

You were curled up on top of his thin comforter, a lighter blanket tossed over your shoulders like an afterthought. His scent lingered faintly on the pillow beneath you. It smelled like clean laundry, hints of shampoo, and something distinctly him. The room was dim, lit only by the soft morning light peeking through slatted blinds.

Across the room, you spotted him, Heeseung, sitting at his desk, back to you, headphones on as he typed slowly on his laptop. His hair was still a mess, sticking out in places. He was wearing the same hoodie from the night before.

You shifted slightly, and that was all it took.

He immediately swiveled around in his chair. Headphones off, brows pulled together. “Hey,” he said, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Hey, easy. Don’t sit up too fast.”

He was already kneeling by the side of the bed, one hand resting gently on your shoulder. His eyes searched your face. “How do you feel? Water and aspirin…” he reached toward his desk, grabbing a bottle and a little foil pack, “…ready to go.”

You took them, muttering a tired thank you as you sat up slowly. Your head was pounding. Everything felt weirdly fragile, like the air was too loud.

“What a mess.. why am I remembering…” you rubbed your temples, “Vicky. Telling me she’d scare off my date.”

Heeseung gave you a tight-lipped smile, carefully neutral. “She did.” You let out a weak laugh. “I didn’t do or say anything... regrettable, right?” His expression flickered. Just for a second. A crack.

“Regrettable?” he repeated quickly. “Nah, nothing like that. You were just… rambling. Typical drunk stuff.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting away. “I brought you back here ‘cause you couldn’t go home like that. And I figured, y’know… better I make sure you’re okay than leave you to die in a bush or something.”

You snorted. “Very noble of you.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward, stiff. “Seriously though, I swear, nothing weird happened. You knocked out like, instantly. I made sure you didn’t choke in your sleep or whatever. That’s it.”

You nodded slowly, watching him as you sipped the water. “Nothing else?”

There was a pause. Barely a beat. He shook his head. “Nope. Nothing.” You said nothing. Just nodded again.

Because you did remember. The moment before it all faded. The way your heart pounded. The words that escaped you.

You remembered what you said to him. Clear as day.

Heeseung looked visibly relieved that you didn’t push it further. He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should probably go home though. Rest somewhere more… homey. Real food, maybe not just painkillers.”

You hesitated. Then quietly, “Can I stay? Just for a little while.” His eyes widened.

“I know I’m probably being annoying, but I just…can’t really go home like this yet.” You picked at the blanket, looking down. “Also, the date was shit...I wanna distract myself from thinking of it.” Heeseung blinked. The expression on his face shifted from surprise to something gentler.

“Yeah,” he said after a second, voice low. “Of course you can stay.”

He sat down next to you slowly, like he wasn’t sure he should. You could feel the warmth of him, even without touching.

“So,” he asked, carefully, “what happened? Was he a jerk or something?”

There was something off in his tone. A casual mask trying to cover the edge of something rawer.

You shrugged. “He was full of himself. Talked about himself the whole time. Kept flirting with Vicky right in front of me.” You glanced at him. “It was pathetic, honestly.”

Heeseung’s entire expression darkened. Jaw clenched. “Are you serious?” he muttered. “He did that in front of you?” You nodded.

“Piece of shit,” he muttered, then immediately seemed to catch himself. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. That’s just-God, what a dumbass.”

You could feel something bubbling beneath his words. He was angry. More than just offended on your behalf. There was something personal in the way he said it.

“I didn’t even like him that much anyway,” you said under your breath.

“Oh?” he said quickly. “Then why go on the date?”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “I guess I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on. That I didn’t-” You bit your lip. “Never mind.” He watched you closely.

“Didn’t what?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Forget it.”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He leaned back against the wall beside the bed. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “you deserve someone way better than that loser. Someone who… actually listens. Knows you.”

You smiled faintly. “Sounds like a fantasy.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You turned to him. “You speak from experience?”

He smiled crookedly. “Something like that.”

There was a quiet stretch. Neither of you spoke.

Then, on impulse, you asked, “Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.”

He looked at you like you just offered to buy him a yacht. “Really?”

“Yeah. You took care of me, so let me return the favor.”

He blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“I mean, you’ll probably complain about the food, but-”

“Oh, absolutely. You have terrible taste.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing the blanket off as you stood. “Can I shower?”

Heeseung blinked. “Shower?”

“Yeah. You’ve got clean towels, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Cabinet under the sink.” He was already standing up, rummaging through a drawer.

“Here. Take this.” He held out a folded t-shirt and a pair of his joggers. “These should fit, I think.” You took them, holding back a grin. “Thanks, mom.”

He flushed, then made a face. “Just don’t use all my conditioner. That shit’s expensive.”

You ducked into the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly masking the sound of your laugh.

Left alone, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, covering his face with his arm. “What the fuck,” he muttered.

Everything about you lately was driving him insane.

Ten minutes later, you emerged, towel-drying your hair and wearing his clothes. The t-shirt was soft, worn-in, and smelled like him. The joggers sat comfortably low on your hips.

“Feel better?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

You nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go, then.”

You walked side by side. Close. Too close, maybe. His hand brushed against yours a few times, just barely.

“Watch it,” you muttered after the third time.

“Not my fault,” he said, not looking at you. “You keep drifting.”

You narrowed your eyes at the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

When you reached the restaurant, he pulled open the door. “Go,” he said, flicking his chin. “Before you embarrass yourself trying to yank this open.”

“Wow,” you scoffed. “Chivalry’s dead.”

Inside the little restaurant, it was quiet. Just the low hum of a fan overhead and the occasional clink of cutlery from the kitchen. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl seat cool against your skin. Heeseung sat across from you, stretching his legs under the table with a soft groan.

He picked up the laminated menu and scanned it half-heartedly. “This place is always weirdly cold.”

You shrugged, fingers idly tracing the edge of your water glass. “Better than it being stuffy. I can’t think when it’s hot.”

“You can’t think when you’re cold either,” he pointed out, flipping the menu upside down like the food choices might change.

You smirked. “I can’t think around you, period.” He looked up. Blinked.

You hadn’t meant to say that.

“I mean-when you’re being annoying,” you added quickly, eyes dropping to the menu like it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. “You’re distracting.”

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, voice teasing. “Nice save.”

You made a face at him. He just chuckled and leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression again. Half amused, half something else.

A waitress came by, took your orders, then disappeared just as quickly.

For a while, neither of you said much. You busied yourself with your straw wrapper, folding it into tight little knots. He watched your hands. Then the window. Then you again.

Finally, he asked, “So. Last night.”

You didn’t look up. “What about it?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just… didn’t expect it to bother me as much as it did.” That made you glance at him.

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?” you said carefully.

He let out a short breath. “Yeah. That was… not my finest moment.”

You leaned forward slightly. “Why though?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then shut it again. Ran a hand through his hair.

“It was just… weird. Seeing you with someone else. Even if it was just a date.”

You tilted your head. “Weird how?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed softly against the table.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess I thought I’d be fine. Like, of course you’re gonna date. That’s normal. But then I saw you standing there with him, and I just-” He exhaled sharply. “It was weird as hell.”

Your throat felt tight. “Heeseung…”

He shook his head, like he regretted saying anything at all. “I’m not trying to make this about me. I just… I care. Okay? Maybe more than I should.” That landed heavier than you expected.

You looked down again. At your straw wrapper. At the water beading on your glass.

“I didn’t like being there,” you admitted, voice low. “The whole thing felt off from the start. Like I was pretending.”

He looked up at that.

“Pretending what?”

“That I wanted to be there. That I didn’t already…” You hesitated. The words felt too big all of a sudden. Too close to something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to say.

“Already what?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small, careful smile. “Already know what I want.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then nodded slowly, like he understood just enough.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore.

The food arrived, and the moment passed. You both shifted back to easier conversation. Complaining about portion sizes, laughing at how they overcooked his egg, making jabs about your weird sauce preferences.

No one said it, but you both felt it.

It wasn’t a confession. Not exactly.

After the plates were cleared and the bill had been paid, you both just sat there nursing the last of your drinks, your fingers lazily stirring the melting ice around with your straw. Neither of you seemed in a rush to leave.

Heeseung glanced out the window, squinting slightly at the soft morning light filtering in. “It’s still early,” he said, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn that made his voice raspy. “Wanna walk around? There’s that park nearby… you know, the one with the stupidly big ducks.”

You snorted. “The ones that hiss at people?”

“Yeah. You like danger, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already grabbing your bag. “Fine. But if I get chased, I’m sacrificing you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grinning as he held the door open for you. The morning breeze was crisp, brushing past your cheeks and ruffling his hair a little. He didn’t bother fixing it.

The walk wasn’t far. It was one of those sleepy neighborhood parks. Just a few worn benches, an old slide, some trees that were finally blooming again. You found an empty bench in the shade and plopped down with a sigh; your legs grateful for the break. Heeseung sat beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

For a while, there wasn’t much said. Just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves, the occasional squawk of an aggressive duck, and the distant bark of someone’s dog.

Then, without warning, you glanced sideways and asked, “Anyways, why did you lie when you said you told me about your part-time job?”

Heeseung blinked like you’d thrown cold water on him.

He looked at you, a little startled. “Huh?”

“You told me you already mentioned it,” you said, leaning back against the bench, casual but still watching him. “But I swear you didn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting with a napkin he'd absently tucked into his pocket.

“It’s just a part-time job, you know? Nothing special.” You didn’t say anything, waiting.

He sighed, letting his hands fall to his lap. “To be honest, I was kinda embarrassed about it. Figured you'd make fun of me for working at some random diner.”

You raised a brow. “Why would I make fun of you for that?”

He chuckled dryly. “I dunno. I guess I thought you’d see it and think I peaked in high school or something.” He finally met your gaze, sheepish. “Guess I should’ve known better. Since when do you judge people based on stuff like that?”

You cracked a grin. “Well, I’d definitely make fun of how you look while working. But not where or why.”

That made him laugh, really laugh, and you caught a glimpse of his canines when he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled when he wasn’t trying to hide it.

Then, maybe a little too comfortable, you added, “You looked good in that uniform though.” Your mouth shut a second too late.

Heeseung blinked. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and he ducked his head, hiding the blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Oh yeah?” he said, trying for cool but fumbling it. “You... noticed?”

You cleared your throat, willing your face not to burn. “Just saying. It suited you.”

“I thought I looked stupid in it,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Like... cartoon diner boy vibes.”

“You always look stupid,” you said, trying to mask the compliment. “But, like, stupidly good in that uniform. Somehow.”

He turned to you fully now, a full grin spreading across his face. “Stupidly good, huh?” he echoed, nudging your shoulder with his. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.” “Go with flattered,” you muttered.

He laughed softly. “I will then. Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Then he tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Hey, remember that bet we made in middle school? That if neither of us found anyone by thirty, we’d just marry each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, I didn’t think you still remembered that.”

“Of course I do,” he said through a mouthful of whatever snack he’d bought from the park’s sad vending machine. “How could I forget such a ridiculous deal?”

He leaned in a little, his voice playful but low. “Plus, it gives me ten years to write a killer speech for stealing you away. Gotta make it memorable.”

“Ew.” You groaned, half-laughing, half-wanting to throw him off the bench. “You’re so cheesy. Stop! You of all people actually being okay with that is insane.”

Heeseung held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll tone it down.” But the smile didn’t leave his face.

Then his voice dipped, not teasing now. Softer. “But seriously. You’d rather end up with some stranger over someone who already knows you? Someone who’s been there... through everything?”

You looked at him, quiet.

He didn’t push. Just kept talking, like he was thinking out loud.

“Not saying I’d actually do it. But… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, right? Settling down with someone who already knows all your weird habits and still wants to sit on a park bench with you after diner shifts and awkward first dates?”

The question lingered between you, neither rhetorical nor rushed. It hung in the silence like a soft, open-ended maybe.

You didn’t answer right away. Because honestly, you didn’t know how to.

Instead, you just reached out and flicked the corner of the vending machine snack in his hand.

“I only agree if I get to write your vows.”

He blinked. Then his grin returned, brighter than the morning sun overhead.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, voice warm.

You leaned back, letting your shoulders relax against the bench, watching a pair of ducks waddle toward a group of toddlers.

Heeseung was still beside you, just close enough that your knees bumped occasionally. Not a big moment. Nothing dramatic.

But it felt like everything wasn’t quite the same anymore.

So why are you letting it?

The next few days passed normally, with a tinge of peculiarity. You and Heeseung still bickered, still teased and jabbed at each other, but the edge was gone. Things had softened. Like the air had changed after a storm but neither of you wanted to talk about the lightning that had struck.

He'd text you late at night, just a meme or a weird video. You'd answer immediately, even if you were halfway through brushing your teeth. Sometimes he'd swing by the dental building just to walk you to the bus stop. You pretended not to notice the way your heart started doing gymnastics in your chest whenever he leaned a little too close or smiled a little too long.

Nothing had really changed. Except that everything had.

You didn’t dare bring up what he’d said at the breakfast place. The whole "settling down with your best friend" thing. You weren’t sure if he was serious. Heeseung had always joked like that. Always known how to toe the line. But lately, it felt like the line was erasing itself. You didn’t want to risk crossing it too soon.

And then suddenly, it was just a month before the university’s Interdisciplinary Festival. You could feel it in the shift of the campus vibe. Flyers everywhere, group chats buzzing, department chairs acting more high-strung than usual. You weren’t directly involved. Dentistry didn't usually have flashy showcases. Your part was more behind the scenes, coordinating with allied health orgs, preparing booths, boring but practical stuff.

But Performance Arts? That department lived for this. And Heeseung, being a third-year in Movement and Expression, had one of the biggest showcases lined up.

You only heard about it by accident.

You were on the library steps with your friend Hyejin, eating ice cream like it wasn’t ten in the morning. She was scrolling through her phone, showing you some video of someone absolutely bombing their tap dance final, when she went, "Oh my god, wait. You know Heeseung’s partnered with Yeri, right?"

You blinked. "Partnered for what?"

Hyejin tilted her head like it was obvious. "The interdisciplinary showcase. Their final’s a partner performance piece. Live. Like, full-blown duet. Probably something emotional and contemporary."

You laughed, even though your fingers tightened slightly around your spoon. "Sounds dramatic."

She shrugged. "Kinda hot, though. I mean, those two together? They’re gonna look insane on stage. Everyone’s already talking about it. People are betting on whether they’re gonna kiss in the final scene."

Your laugh this time came out too sharp. "Betting? Seriously?"

"It’s the Performance Arts kids. They make everything theatrical. But yeah, it’s all over the department forums. Some freshman even made a Yeri x Heeseung hashtag. It’s gross."

You scoffed, trying to play it off. "Heeseung’s probably dying of embarrassment. He hates that kind of attention."

But your stomach was sinking. Not because of Yeri, not exactly. Yeri was nice. Really fucking nice. And she and Heeseung made sense on paper. Both were tall, talented, and conventionally attractive. They moved in the same artistic circles. They shared a language you’d never really spoken. The idea of them being shipped together wasn’t surprising. It was reasonable.

And maybe that’s what made it worse.

You didn’t say anything to Heeseung at first. Not when he texted you a blurry selfie of himself trying on a costume for rehearsal. Not when he showed up at your library table the next day with a mango smoothie like he always did.

But you noticed the changes. Subtle things. He was always tired now. Rehearsals were eating up his evenings. He’d started humming unfamiliar melodies under his breath. And once, just once, you caught the faint scent of Yeri’s perfume clinging to his hoodie when he leaned over to help you fix your cracked phone screen.

You didn’t even flinch. You just smiled and handed him the new glass. Like always.

Until the cracks finally showed.

It was Friday evening. You’d both ended up on campus late—him from rehearsal, you from a late lab session. He found you sitting by the vending machines, legs curled up on the bench, eyes glued to your notes.

"You look like you haven’t blinked in an hour," he said, tossing you a small snack pack.

"You look like you got hit by a lighting rig," you shot back, eyeing his sweat-soaked hair.

He grinned. But it was tired. Too tired.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the kind that used to feel comforting. Tonight, it felt like holding your breath.

You nudged his knee. "So. The duet."

He stiffened slightly. Not a flinch, but close.

"Ah. That." He leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "You heard, huh?"

You nodded, keeping your tone light. "Whole school has, apparently. You two trending yet?"

He groaned. "Don’t even. Some sophomore tried to interview us for the school paper. I told them to interview my foot instead."

You snorted. "Nice."

Heeseung scratched at his temple. "It’s not that serious, y’know. Just an assignment. Yeri’s chill. She’s focused. No drama."

You stared at him. "You don’t think it’s a big deal?"

He looked at you then, really looked. And for a moment, the easy smile slipped.

"I didn’t say that," he said quietly. "Just... I didn’t ask for her. We were paired. It’s not like I had a choice."

You tried not to react. "Right. Makes sense."

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed a little, studying your expression. "Why? Does it bother you?"

You shrugged. "Why would it? It’s your class. You’re doing what you have to do."

There was a pause. Something taut stretched between you, neither of you daring to pull too hard.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched you fidget with your notebook. "But it’s bothering you, right?"

You didn’t look up, focusing on the paper in front of you. "I didn’t say that."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn’t. But you’re kind of wearing it on your face."

You huffed, flipping a page in your notebook, trying to avoid the growing tension. "I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it."

Heeseung chuckled softly, but there was a quiet seriousness behind it. "I’m not making a big deal. You are."

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t give in. "I’m not. Just-" You paused, scratching your pen over the paper more harshly than you intended. "It’s just different, okay? I’m used to having you around, not just in passing. And now… it’s like you’re always somewhere else, in some other world. I don’t know, maybe I forgot what that feels like."

There was a long silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just a bit too quiet. Heeseung adjusted in his seat, clearly thinking about what you said. You could feel him looking at you, but you kept your gaze fixed downward, pretending like it didn’t bother you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but with a hint of something almost... understanding. "That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve been so used to me being around all the time that now it feels weird."

You stiffened, feeling a flicker of irritation. "I’m not saying it’s a problem."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You’re not the best at explaining things, you know that?"

"Well, maybe if you didn’t make everything feel like a thing, it’d be easier to explain."

There was another wave of silence, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as tense. Heeseung shifted again, this time reaching over to poke your arm lightly. "Alright, alright. I get it. You miss me or whatever."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I don’t miss you, I just-" You stopped yourself before you could say more, mentally cursing your own brain for letting that slip.

"Yeah, sure," Heeseung said, his voice now teasing but still light. "I know you’re just totally fine without me around."

You gave him a look, not bothering to respond. The familiar bickering felt oddly comforting, even if it didn’t solve anything. You could almost pretend like things weren’t shifting, that nothing had changed.

Heeseung leaned a little closer, his voice quieter this time, not quite teasing but not completely serious either. "You know, I’m still here, right? Even if I’m not always right in front of you."

You glanced at him, but your gaze faltered quickly. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of those words, even though they weren’t as heavy as they could have been. "Yeah, I know. You just keep disappearing into your little world for hours."

Heeseung smirked, nudging your arm with his shoulder. "I come back. I always do."

You looked up at him, your expression softening, but you didn’t say anything. For a moment, it felt like there was more between the two of you than you wanted to admit.

Heeseung smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to laugh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me."

The university’s interdisciplinary festival was the kind of event that had a little bit of everything: booths on oral health from the Dentistry department, sports exhibitions, and the inevitable Performance Arts showcases that would steal the spotlight, as they always did. Naturally, since the festival spanned multiple departments, each one had its role to play. It was a chaotic, messy combination of everything, but somehow, everything still managed to fall into place. Though not without a bit of stress.

Vicky, your very unfortunately good friend, was the one who dragged you into it.

“You’ve got to come help with the festival, please! I’m begging you!” Vicky had said that day, eyes wide with that slightly manic enthusiasm that usually meant trouble.

You’d wanted to refuse, but you owed her. Big time. You couldn’t exactly back out, not when she’d held a dirty little secret over your head for months. And there was the fact that she’d somehow convinced you to help her out when you’d lost a bet a while ago. This was your punishment, you guessed, helping her run around doing menial tasks for the festival. You sighed dramatically as you agreed, your inner voice grumbling about the mess you were about to step into.

“I’m only doing this because I owe you, Vicky,” you muttered, throwing on your jacket as you followed her to the sign-up table.

“I knew you’d come through,” she grinned widely, practically bouncing on her toes. You shook your head but didn’t argue.

Vicky was good at that, making you feel guilty enough to help her out without ever truly demanding it.

And so, you found yourself getting swept up into the logistics of the festival, running around with other volunteers from different departments. And as fate would have it, you ended up working directly with Yeri.

The thing about Yeri was… she was easy to like. At least, that’s how she came across. She was friendly. Polite. A little too nice at times, in a way that made you feel like she was always trying to read something between the lines. You didn’t know her well. But everyone else seemed to think she was this pure, sweet angel.

It was hard to deny, though, that something about her rubbed you the wrong way now. Maybe it was the way she smiled a little too brightly at you, or the way her eyes lingered on Heeseung just a little too long whenever he was nearby. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. At least, you didn’t want to think it was. But there was something unsettling about the ease with which she seemed to glide through everything, untouched and perfect.

And when you saw her, right there in the middle of it all, managing rehearsal coordination for the Performance Arts group, your stomach twisted in knots.

Her smile was so… practiced as she greeted you. Almost too perfect. She was standing by the entrance of the rehearsal room, clipboard in hand as people filtered in. She waved at you when she saw you approach with Vicky, and then stepped forward, offering a cool bottle of water in a way that felt both casual and deliberate.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you with a small smile. “It’s gonna be a long day. Stay hydrated.”

You took the bottle from her without a word, fighting the urge to scowl. Vicky, ever the optimist, nudged you with a grin before speaking up.

“I’m gonna grab a coffee. You two go ahead and start getting familiar with the space. You’ll be fine, right?”

You barely had time to answer before Vicky disappeared, leaving you with her.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding Yeri’s gaze. You were about to turn away, but then her voice stopped you, and you froze.

“So,” she said, her voice light but her gaze sharp. “Are you and Heeseung… dating, or...?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to fight not to let it show. Your chest tightened, and you almost laughed to cover it up.

“No,” you said, as casually as possible, trying to shrug it off. “We’ve known each other forever.” You wanted to move past this. But Yeri wasn’t letting you off that easily.

“Oh.” Her eyes were deceptively innocent as she tilted her head, her smile soft but there was something unsettling about it. “So, you’re like… family, then?” And just like that, your stomach dropped.

Family. That word. The word that made it sound like nothing between you and Heeseung would ever be more than just what you already were. Not that you even wanted it to be more, right? At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself as you awkwardly fumbled for a response.

You forced a smile, a tight thing that never quite reached your eyes. “Yeah, I guess. That’s one way to put it.”

Yeri didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care. She smiled again, a little too warmly, and nodded as if that answer had satisfied her.

“Family, huh?” She repeated, almost to herself, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you for a moment longer than necessary.

You didn’t know why, but her words hit you like a punch in the gut. Something about them felt too sharp. Too intentional. It was like she was probing for something, trying to understand exactly how far the relationship between you and Heeseung went. You didn’t want to play her game, but she wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“Right.” You swallowed and finally gave in, looking at her for a second before glancing away.

“Well, we’re not really… family, I guess. Just… friends.”

Her smile flickered, a glint of something unreadable flashing in her eyes. She nodded again, still too perfect, too calm.

“Right. Just friends.”

The tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you, following you around like a shadow. You didn’t want to think about what Yeri’s words meant. Didn’t want to think about the fact that, in the back of your mind, they made you feel…small.

Before you could say anything else, someone shouted from across the room, calling for Yeri’s attention. She glanced back at you, giving you one final, soft smile.

“I’ll be around if you need anything,” she said, and with that, she turned away, leaving you standing there, feeling a little more unsettled than you had a moment ago.

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to be angry at the way she’d managed to make you feel like you were something less than you were. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to get upset. Not when you felt…stupid.

And maybe it was because of her. Or maybe it was because of the way your heart had stuttered when she’d asked about you and Heeseung. But either way, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was starting to change… again.

And it wasn’t just with her. It was with Heeseung, too.

For the next few days, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way Yeri’s smile had never quite reached her eyes. The way her words seemed so carefully chosen, like she was testing you, seeing how you’d react. You weren’t sure what her angle was, but you knew it was something more than just curiosity.

And Heeseung? He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t know if it was the festival getting to you, or the fact that Yeri was always around, her presence like a quiet storm brewing in the background. But you couldn’t escape the feeling that the space between you and Heeseung was widening.

It had always been this easy with him. But now? Now, everything felt...complicated.

It had been a few days since that weird conversation with Yeri. Since that almost-smile you gave her. Since her words, “So you’re like… family?” had been playing on repeat in your head like some cruel inside joke you didn’t know you’d signed up for.

You told yourself you were over it. Told yourself you were being dramatic. But the thing is, once a thought plants itself like that, it doesn’t go away. It twists. It grows teeth. It appears like a teratoma you saw in ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’

The thing about trying to shake something off is that it never really works when you're already spiraling. And after that whole almost-cordial conversation with Yeri a few days ago, the drink offering, the “you’re like family?” line, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it had been hard not to spiral. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. That it didn’t mean anything. People asked offhand questions all the time. Yeri didn’t know better.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew a loaded question when you heard one.

Still, you’d managed to push it down. Not away, just barely under the surface, like stuffing a drawer that wouldn’t quite close. You buried yourself in classwork, in shift hours, in helping Vicky plan her chaos of a booth for the Interdisciplinary Festival. She’d somehow roped you into printing tarpaulin designs and labeling props for a dental hygiene game that involved questionable puppet mascots and glitter glue.

And maybe it was easier to be annoyed at Vicky than to sit still long enough to think about how things felt different lately.

Heeseung hadn’t been avoiding you, no. If anything, he was still... around. Still showing up outside your building with a coffee when you didn’t ask, still bumping his knee against yours under the table during lunch, still sending reels at 2am with a “this is you when you’re hungry” caption.

But something had shifted.

Maybe it was you.

Or maybe it was that you noticed the shift more now that Yeri had stepped out of the periphery and into your shared spaces.

It was a late Thursday afternoon when it happened. The hallway leading to the studio wing was mostly quiet, the usual buzz of activity softened by the fact that most departments were busy prepping their respective booths or showcases. You were carrying a stack of laminated activity cards, something Vicky insisted were “vital to audience engagement,” and cutting through the Performance Arts floor because it was a faster route back to your booth.

You didn’t mean to look.

Really, you didn’t.

You only turned your head because you heard music playing from the open studio door. It was something soft and rhythmic, a piano loop that sounded vaguely familiar. You would’ve kept walking if not for the glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. A flash of grey sweatpants.

A foot pivoting. The sound of a quiet laugh.

And there they were.

Heeseung and Yeri.

In the center of the studio, mid-run-through. You could tell from their breathing that they were nearing the end. Their movements were fluid, he reached for her wrist, spun her in close, and her hand landed on his shoulder like muscle memory. The music faded into its final notes. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her by the waist without missing a beat.

And then, still holding her, he laughed.

It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t intimate in the way people always imagined.

But it was close.

His forehead brushed hers as he chuckled, and she grinned back, flushed from movement, her hand still resting against his chest.

And just like that, the drawer inside you burst open.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the moment. You didn’t give it the grace of an ending. You turned before they could see you, before Heeseung could glance over and realize you’d been standing there like some pathetic cliché in a drama rerun.

The laminated cards dug into your fingers as you walked faster, then faster still, until the hallway blurred and your breath caught unevenly in your throat.

You knew it wasn’t a big deal. Knew that this was rehearsal. Knew that Heeseung didn’t look at Yeri the way he looked at you when you were both cracking jokes in line for ramen, or when you were arguing over toothpaste flavors at the convenience store.

But knowing didn’t mean anything when your brain kept replaying that image. His hands on her waist, their laughter floating in sync, the ease of it all.

And the worst part?

The worst part was how normal it all looked.

How good they looked together.

You don’t remember walking down the stairs.

Your legs must’ve carried you out of the performance wing on autopilot, but your brain was stuck on loop, replaying the scene you weren’t supposed to see. The way he held her. The stupid laugh. That split second of closeness. You kept telling yourself it wasn’t even romantic, and yet here you were, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way back to the volunteer booth because your chest felt tight and hollow at the same time.

By the time you made it to the central quad, the heat in your ears had barely faded. Students were scattered across folding tables, tape guns snapping open, boxes getting unpacked.

Someone was blasting a speaker near the MedTech stall. It was all just noise.

You spotted Vicky instantly, perched like a gremlin on top of a chair, one leg folded under her as she furiously labeled laminated tags. Her drink was half-spilled next to a tangle of string lights. Typical.

You dropped the flyers in front of her with a little too much force.

Vicky flinched. “Damn. You tryna give me a paper cut to the throat or something?” You didn’t answer.

She peered at you, head tilted. “You good?” Still nothing.

Vicky blinked. “Okay, mood.”

You sat down wordlessly across from her, staring blankly at the label sheet.

After a beat, she gave you a look. “...You passed by the rehearsal studio, didn’t you?” That snapped your head up.

Your silence was enough of a confession.

Vicky hissed through her teeth. “I told you not to take the back hallway. Didn’t I literally say not to risk it today?”

“I wasn’t trying to spy,” you said stiffly. “It was just the fastest way. I wasn’t expecting-”

“Well, yeah. No one expects to get punched in the gut by destiny.”

You frowned. “This isn’t some drama.”

“Isn’t it?” she countered, flicking a label onto a folder. “Because I’m pretty sure that looked a hell of a lot like the third-act misunderstanding in Twilight. You’re Bella. Yeri’s the romantic rival. Heeseung’s the-”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Do not call him Edward.”

Vicky shrugged, deadpan. “I was gonna say Jacob, actually. But tomato, tomato.”

You shot her a glare, but your heart wasn’t in it. Your stomach was still twisted up, your chest still humming with that awful buzzing feeling. Like jealousy, but meaner. Heavier.

She studied you for a moment before softening, her voice dipping lower. “Look, I get it. I know it sucks. And I know you’re not gonna say it out loud, but you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re jealous, then.”

“I’m not-” You bit off the rest, jaw tight. “I’m not anything.”

Vicky gave you the most annoying knowing smile. “Sure. Which is why you’re out here nearly cracking a hole in my table.”

You folded your arms, but the motion felt defensive even to you.

She pressed. “Be real, though. Are you actually upset about the duet? Or about the fact that it looked... comfortable?” That landed.

You exhaled sharply and looked away. “It wasn’t even romantic.”

“But it could’ve been. If you didn’t know better.” Vicky leaned back in her chair. “That’s what stings the most, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She watched you for a second, then leaned forward, voice softer now. “Look. I know it’s easier to pretend it’s nothing. But I also know you. And you don’t look at people like that unless it means something.”

You swallowed hard.

“Even if you can’t say it,” she added gently, “you feel it. That’s enough to make this kind of thing hurt.”

You stared down at the table. A breeze lifted one of the corner tags and fluttered it against your arm.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” you murmured. “Everyone knows they’re partnered. I thought I was fine. I was fine.”

“And then you saw it.”

You nodded, slowly. “He laughed.”

Vicky raised a brow. “And that’s the crime?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just… he laughed like it was easy. Like she belonged there. In his arms. I’ve seen him do duets before, but this...” You trailed off. Your throat felt tight.

“She’s good at what she does,” Vicky said, not unkindly. “And she’s not stupid. She knows exactly how she comes off.”

“I know.”

“She probably knows you’re watching, too.” You blinked at her.

“C’mon,” Vicky said, scoffing. “Yeri’s not dumb. She asked if you and Heeseung were dating in the most suspiciously casual way imaginable. You think she wasn’t testing the waters?”

You clenched your jaw, that old bitterness creeping back in. “She said we were like family.”

“Oh, ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Vicky sighed, sliding her drink over to you. “You want me to ‘accidentally’ trip and spill glitter on her head?”

You cracked a laugh. It was weak. Shaky. But real.

“I’m serious,” she said, straight-faced. “I’ll ruin her whole aesthetic. It’ll be glitterpocalypse.” “I appreciate the offer,” you mumbled.

A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the sounds of other students setting up around you, the distant hum of another speaker kicking on.

And then Vicky said, softer, “You’re allowed to feel things, you know. Even if you’re not dating him. Even if no one said anything out loud yet.”

You blinked fast. The backs of your eyes were starting to sting.

“But what if I’m just... reading too much into it?” you asked, voice quiet. “What if I’m the only one who thinks we’re… whatever we are?”

“You’re not,” Vicky said firmly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just you.”

You stared at the tabletop, her words echoing in your chest like they wanted to stick but didn’t know where to land.

“Just don’t let this one moment undo everything you’ve built with him,” she added, nudging your hand. “You guys have history. Depth. That beats any choreography any day.” You nodded slowly, even though the ache hadn’t left. Not really.

But for now, you stayed.

You let Vicky drag you into more prep work, into stringing lights and faking jokes, into the chaos of your friendship, even while the image of Heeseung and Yeri refused to leave the back of your mind.

Even while the burn lingered.

Even while the question, the one you never said out loud, twisted deeper inside you:

If you were really his person...

Then why did it feel like he was learning to smile in someone else's direction?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Stardust and Soul Marks

Theodore Nott x gn!hufflepuff reader; fluff & angst

summary: soulmates. you don’t believe in them for a second. especially once you find out theodore nott of all people is supposed to be yours.

a/n: after an eternity, here it is. hope it was worth the wait. dedicated to @obsessedwithceleste (go read her interpretation here) and all 1k of you who continue to support my work. it means the world ♡

It was almost midnight and you definitely should not have still been in the library. However, there was a History of Magic essay due in a few days and your roommates were, for some reason, not cool with you studying in the dorm at this hour. So here you were.

You had been the only one in the library for the past few hours until one Theodore Nott strolls in like he owns the place and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You’re ready to ignore him, reshuffling your quills and books which causes your parchment to roll off the table with terrible timing. With a groan, you bend over in your seat to pick it up. He apparently had a similar idea and for the briefest of moments, your fingertips touch. Much to your shock and horror, the letters T.N. were now inscribed on your wrist in rather sloppy handwriting. 

“Holy shit,” Theodore’s stunned whisper comes out before you properly get a chance to process what just happened. “You’re my soulmate?”

You catch a glimpse of your initials etched into his wrist. Your eyes travel up further to meet his shockingly blue ones and all you can think is you need to get out of there. Now.

In record time, you’ve packed your things and you’re slipping out of the library, leaving behind a stunned Theodore. The castle is empty as you hurry back to the Hufflepuff common room, wishing desperately that this could all just be some horrific nightmare.

As you leave the library in a hurry, Theo sets down his books and without thinking about it, runs after you.

You hear him shouting your name as he books it through the empty corridor. You ignore him. Just before he can reach you, you’re slipping through the common room door, letting it shut in his face. You don’t hear the thud of his forehead hitting the wood with a groan.

It hits you that it definitely wasn’t some horrific nightmare when you immediately notice Theodore leaning against a wall outside the common room the next morning. For a second you contemplate turning right back around and skipping classes for the day. You aren’t quite quick enough deciding, with Theodore’s predatory gaze falling on you where you stand in the doorway. He raises an eyebrow and damn it, you won’t be able to easily get past him. Nonetheless, you make an attempt. 

As you try to casually slide past him, he steps in front of you, effectively blocking your path. Prick.

“What do you want, Nott?” Your arms come up to cross over your chest as you meet his eye with a glare. He’s a bit taller than you, so you have to look up. For some reason, it’s incredibly frustrating.

“I want to talk about last night.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you quickly respond, side stepping to get around him. He immediately blocks you again with an incredulous look.  

“What do you mean nothing to talk about? We touched fingertips and now your initials are carved into my skin. We’re soulmates.” He seems genuinely a little shocked you’re putting up a fight with him. 

“No, we’re not. Get out of my way.”

“Then explain this,” he holds up his wrist where, yes, your initials are written in black ink. He was being dramatic about it being carved. You scoff. 

“I don’t care. Now move.” You manage to slip past him this time and continue down the corridor. 

His eyebrows raise in surprise that quickly morphs into that signature smugness that nearly makes your eye twitch. “You’re actually going to class?” There’s an almost taunting tone to his voice and maybe your eye does twitch. Maybe.

“Must be surprising since your lot typically skips, but it is something that people do,” you give a nonchalant shrug.

Theo’s smirk drops off his face, “my lot?”

You bite your lip to hold off a smug grin, “yeah, that group of delinquents you skip class to smoke with all the time.”

“It’s not like we need to go to class anyway, we do just fine. It’s more productive to have a break.”

“More productive in what? Giving you lung cancer? Sure thing, Nott.” Without another word, you exit the corridor.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for him to catch up to you. He gets entirely too close for your liking, you can practically feel him behind you. “You know, out of all the people that could possibly have been my soulmate, I never expected a Hufflepuff.” 

You don’t acknowledge the soulmates comment, instead asking, “What’s wrong with Hufflepuffs, Nott?” 

“Just surprised is all, as they produce some of the dullest people I’ve ever met. You’re rather feisty though,” you can practically hear the smirk in his voice and the heat radiating off his skin—

You come to an abrupt halt, causing Theodore to slam into your back from walking too close. He makes a startled noise as he stumbles before covering it up with a scoff. Before he can regain his footing, you start walking again. 

“What was the sudden stop for? Couldn’t handle the Slytherin heat?” He quickly regains his smirk and catches up, this time by your side, walking in time with your footsteps. 

“Thought snakes were supposed to be cold-blooded.” You take a sharp corner on your way to the Charms classroom, yet you’re unable to shake him off. “Badgers would be the warm ones.”

Theodore seems to think over your words for a moment before letting out an almost inaudible chuckle, “alright, fine. You got me on that one.”

You walk together in a surprisingly comfortable silence the rest of the way to the classroom. As you make your way across the castle, you sneak a glance or two at the taller boy, trying in vain to figure out what the hell is making him do this. Theodore Nott has always been one of the biggest pains in the ass you’ve ever met, yet in this moment, his company was at the very least tolerable. Which is more than you could say for all the years you’d known him. 

You enter the relatively empty classroom and find your usual spot. Theodore, not missing a beat, swoops into the chair beside yours. “I thought you had better things to do than class, Nott?”

“I can make exceptions. The guys will be fine without me for one morning.”

“You sure about that? You seem attached at the hip to—what’re their names? Riddle and Berkshire?”

Theo has a look of genuine surprise on his face that shifts into a subtle smile when you mention his friends’ names. “How did you know that?” 

“It’s not like it’s some secret,” you deadpan.

Cold blue eyes study your face for a moment, seemingly scrutinizing every detail they run across, trying to figure you out. You don’t give him much of an opportunity, turning your head to slam your textbook onto the desk. You see Theodore jump at the thud out the corner of your eye. 

Before either of you can say more, two of your housemates, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott, are approaching. You can tell by the looks on their faces they’re intrigued to see you sitting with Theodore, and there’s no way they’re going to miss the opportunity to give you a bit of hell over it. 

Your last name rings out in the slowly filling classroom and you have to suppress a long suffering sigh.

“Fancy seeing you sitting with a Slytherin,” Justin’s voice hits your ears with a sneer. “Figured you had better sense than to sit with one of those types, aren’t you worried what people might think?”

“Especially Nott. Hanging out with the son of a…Death Eater, not exactly a good look,” Hannah’s eyes flick between you two. “Only person worse would be Riddle.” You don’t miss the way Theodore’s eyes narrow at her jab at his friend.

Seemingly unable to hold himself back from mocking you further, Justin adds, “didn’t realize you were taking charity cases. Though, with how you are I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You look up at them with a borderline bored expression, hoping they’ll give up and leave you alone.

“Oh…nothing,” Hannah gives a faux innocent smile. 

Before they can continue to berate either of you, you interject, “I don’t recall asking for input, anyway—” you tug Theo closer by his tie to make a point, “I’m fine where I am, so you can piss off with evil snake talk.”

With a huff, Hannah is grabbing Justin’s arm and pulling him away. 

You release the hand on the green tie, barely noticing how Theo quickly attempts to fix it back into his jumper, cheeks slightly flushed. “I can see why you prefer to skip,” you grumble under your breath once they’re gone, eyes returning to your textbook and missing Theodore’s stunned expression beside you.

“Why did you—” he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his aloof demeanor, “why’d you do that?”

“Didn’t like the way they were talking about you,” you shrug, nonchalant like you were speaking about something mundane as the weather. Theo feels his brain malfunction for a moment, just staring at you like he can’t figure you out. Soon more students are filing in, then the lecture is starting, response dying on his tongue.

The moment Flitwick dismisses you, you’re shoving the textbook back in your bag and making your way to the door. Theo starts to complain about your habit of disappearing until his eyes trail up to you waiting at the door for him. He’s stunned for the second time that day.

He scrambles to grab his things and follow you. You walk together through the corridors in silence until you’re pushing open the door to the North Exit Courtyard. Theo’s brain finally catches up with them and he pulls his smirk back onto his face, following too close behind you yet again. He continues a half step behind you the entire way to the Cares of Magical Creatures classroom.

“You’ve got quite a bit of sass for a Hufflepuff.”

“And you’re quite clingy for a Slytherin. Do you have to stand so close?” 

“Yes.” He somehow walks even closer, “still no clue why we’re coming over here when the lesson isn’t for another three hours.”

You drop your things onto one of the tables before picking up a small bag of treats. Theo continues to trail behind you like a lost puppy as you make your way to the pens behind the classroom. You stop at the second to last enclosure, where a group of kneazles are lounging in the sun. Carefully opening the gate, a couple of the cat-like beasts quickly pad over, clearly familiar with you. While one hand gently pets the head of one, you offer a treat to the other as Theo watches on in fascination from the other side of the fence.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for an animal lover.” It draws your attention back over to the Italian boy, unimpressed look on your face, “yeah? Why's that?” He just shrugs, intense eyes staring you down.

“Thought Herbology was more of a Hufflepuff thing, I suppose.”

“Oh Merlin, no. Almost got attacked by a Venomous Tentacula last term, so no green thumb here,” you give a gentle scratch under the chin of the purring kneazle. “Funny enough it was that mate of yours, Berkshire, that yanked me out of the way before I could become plant food or something.”

Theo’s eyes narrow briefly as one of his eyebrows quirks up, “You’ve met Lorenzo? And he saved you from a plant?” He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

“Well, it was really the only time we’ve spoken. I guess you snakes aren’t all bad,” there’s a teasing grin on your face as your fingers absentmindedly run through soft fur. 

“You continue to surprise me, badger.” He’s staring you down again with those, slowly but surely less, intimidating blue eyes. “You didn’t seem friends with those other Hufflepuffs and here you are defending not one, but two Slytherins…why?”

You think it over for a moment before shrugging casually, “loyalty and respect are earned. Just because you ought to bond with certain people doesn’t mean you do. They think I’m quite odd, I’m pretty sure.”

“Then who has earned your loyalty, badger? Other than the school creatures,” he gestures to where the beasts are nuzzling against your robes and nearly purring. 

You just shrug cryptically again, frustrating Theo more than he anticipated. 

He groans as he leans his forearms on the gate. You were completely unlike any Hufflepuff he’d ever met, but it intrigued him. Maybe he’d spent the last few years being a dick to you, mostly on principle; his group of friends were very aware of how they were perceived and it was often wise to get ahead of the insults by spewing them at others first. But you’d stuck up for him. You had something nice to say about his friend without the expectation to get something out of it. At least as far as he knew you weren’t trying to hook up with any of them, which is why most people decided to play nice with them usually. So why were you letting him follow you around? Was it because of the soulmate connection? You seemed hellbent on denying even the idea of it. He feels like his head is spinning.

Then like a life raft in a maelstrom, he’s pulled out of his thoughts by your soft voice.

“C’mere,” you gesture for Theo to join you in the enclosure, expectant look on your face. He hesitates for a moment before obliging you. The gate creaks as he pushes it open and warily steps inside, eyeing the kneazles like they’re about to take his face off. You have to hold back a laugh at the normally stoic boy obviously scared of what might as well be oversized house cats.

Once he’s close enough you reach out for his hand. It takes a moment of him looking between you and the kneazles before he puts his palm in yours, his touch surprisingly gentle and warm. You carefully tug him closer, positioning his hand in front of the kneazle for it to take a sniff at him. 

Whiskers tickle his palm as he curiously looks over to you for an explanation, but all he gets is you watching the interaction intently, like you’re waiting for something. The kneazle apparently deems him suitable for pets as the furry head bumps his hand in a silent request for attention. You nod before standing up and straightening out your robes.

Theo gently starts petting the beast’s fluffy head as he watches you. “I think it likes me.”

“Looks like it.”

“You knew it would,” his tone is teasingly accusatory, like he thinks you’re testing him.

“Oh. I had no idea. Could’ve bitten your fingers right off for all I knew,” you once again shrug nonchalantly, opening the gate to the kneazle pen and softly closing it behind you. Theodore looks at you in alarm, eyes wide as they flick down to the creature nuzzling at his palm like an overgrown kitten. He quickly pulls away from the beast. “You were going to just let it bite me?!”

“You’re much more talkative than you look, anyone ever told you that?”

“You’re dodging my question…again.”

“And you’re dodging mine!” There’s a new air of playfulness in your voice, gone is the irritation you had directed at him most of the day and the entire time you’ve known each other.

He rolls his eyes, almost affectionately as he follows your lead out of the enclosure and back toward the classroom. He shouldn’t have been so surprised when he rams straight into you for a second time today. This time there’s a lack of teasing on your face, instead replaced by surprise that mirrors his own.

“Oh! Almost forgot,” you redirect to one of the first enclosures in the lineup, where there’s a pile of gold and gems and various other shiny objects spilling out of a den. A little blue niffler, smaller than the other ones lounging on and around the pile, scampers up to the fence when you approach. 

“Hello Trinket,” you dig in the pocket of your robes for a moment before producing a shiny galleon. Your voice is softer than Theo had ever heard from you as you speak to the little creature, your tone taking on what he can only describe as a parental adoration. You carefully hold out the coin for greedy little niffler hands to quickly snatch up and shove into the pocket on its tummy. It gives you a pleased noise and lets you gently scratch the top of its head.

“Don’t tell the others, but this one’s my favorite.”

Theo has a stupid, lovestruck grin on his face when he responds, “wouldn’t dream of it, vita mia.”

As you both walk back towards the castle, something compels Theodore to ask, “so…what do you like so much about Nifflers? And why the little runt in particular?” And by the way your entire being seems to perk up and you animatedly launch into a ramble about what’s obviously a passion for you, Theo’s heart thuds hard in his chest. Deep down he knows he’s already a goner for you.

You don’t share the next class, but he always seems to find his way back to you. Waiting by the door the moment you’re dismissed, and bewildered, you think he must have either left early from his class or booked it through the corridors (or both) to be there in time. But the little smile on his face is unwavering. 

On the way to the Great Hall, he offers a seat with his friends over at the Slytherin table and for a moment you’re so shocked (and secretly touched) that he wants you to properly meet his friends, you’re tempted to say yes. It’d probably beat sitting mostly alone at your house table as usual, but one glance over to the group already looking at you from across the dining hall and you’re making a stupid joke about not wanting to venture into the snake pit and speed walking in the other direction. Not intimidated at all.

Theo seems once again undeterred by you making an escape, appearing by your side the moment the meal time is over. He follows you, too close as you’ve come to expect, all the way to the library; his snide comments all but gone from your interactions. The space is instead filled by what sounds like genuine questions about yourself and stupid stories of situations only a group of teenage boys could get themselves into. You find yourself smiling more than you ever have with him, even more than much of your time with your housemates. 

The more he feels comfortable, the more you get to see a boy that loves summers by the sea and evenings cooking in the kitchen and who’s favorite instrument is the piano. 

You two settle into this routine of him tagging along, right by your side for the next few days. Talking with him is easy and he seems content to just listen to you endlessly ramble about anything. He always has questions relevant to what you’re talking about, sometimes even bringing up things you had mentioned in passing, days prior. 

He had even managed to drag you up to the Astronomy Tower late one night to properly meet his friends. Conversation with them even came easier than amongst your fellow Hufflepuffs. You could joke with them and they would have a witty, often snarky response in return.

Slowly you were finding yourself enjoying having a bit of company most hours of the day. Finding yourself leaving your common room in the mornings to fall in step with Theo, who was always there and waiting for you. 

Eventually he had ended up sneaking you into his dorm one evening to study while his dorm mates were out doing Merlin knows what. After a couple of hours brainstorming over a Potions project, Theo’s eyes flicked up to meet yours. 

“Are you still…vehemently against the whole…soulmate thing? It’s alright if you are and I don’t want to push, it’s just,” he sighs softly as he turns his quill over in his fingers, “it’s been on my mind a bit.”

The sudden topic change has you blinking in surprise, brain blanking as you struggle to even process your own thoughts.

“I just…don’t—I don’t know,” you stumble over your words a bit as you look away from him. You bite your lip for a moment, internally debating whether or not to lay bare this part of you, to let him past the carefully crafted walls that had been there so long you weren’t even sure what was left to guard anymore. But soft ocean eyes that always seem to linger too long, holding depths you could have never anticipated look back at you. And you feel safe.

So you continue, “my, uh parents were soulmates. In name only I suppose. As far as I know, they never loved each other, I don’t think they even liked each other.” You fiddle with the sleeves of your robes. “I didn’t want to let myself fall for you if you were just doing it because you thought we were destined to be together. I wanted you to like me, just…as me.”

“I never wanted a soulmate but here you are, ruining everything. With your stupid charming accent and the way you remember things about me and how you look at me with that stupid lovey look on your face—”

You’re cut off by gentle lips on yours. Expensive cologne and smoke fill your lungs in an intoxicating burn. It steals your breath, leaving only him. 

“I understand the feeling, the doubt about leaving it up to the universe to decide on something so…important.” Theo’s voice is quiet, gentle, when he pulls back from your lips. “My parents weren’t soulmates. It’s archaic, but purebloods have certain expectations and practices, one of them being arranged marriages. That’s what mine were. Mia mamma, she ended up falling in love with my father but him, not so much. Wanted me for an heir.” 

He looks over your face and for once it’s not a look of scrutiny, but something tender. Like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“She never got to be with her soulmate so she wanted me to get the chance to be with mine. But it’s hard, you know? I don’t know what I’m doing with the whole destined relationship thing, but I want to. I wish you could have met her. She had an eye for good character, I think.”

“Theo…” You’re almost at a loss for words, but you push through. “I—with the kneazles…I didn’t actually think they were going to hurt you. It might sound stupid but they’re particularly good at sensing trustworthiness and I…”

“And you wanted their second opinion?” he cracks a smile.

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I’m glad they found me trustworthy.”

His thumb grazes over his initials on your wrist as you hesitantly speak. “Me too. I know it might not be instantaneous, but…I’m willing to—no—I want to give this soulmate thing a shot. I’m just…scared.”

The light graze against the soul mark shifts to gentle, reassuring circles on your skin. “Maybe soulmates are just the pieces of the stars finding each other over and over again after they separate. What makes us up, just returning home. I want to get to know you, over and over again, no matter how much you push me away. No matter how long it’s been since the pieces of us have reunited.”

The pull to be close to him is nearly overwhelming, but this time, you don’t fight it. Instead you throw yourself forward, into his arms, into his trust, into the rest of your lives. And he catches you, holding you tight with the promise of never letting go.

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[thepositivefella]

It was a movie about finding a job that actually means something to you. The Thunderbolts helping people on the streets had so much more impact than if they just fought a big interdimensional portal in the sky.

It also helped a lot that they we're saving one or two civilians at a time in an incident across a single street instead of saving people by the dozens across the entirety of New York city.

Gives you the impression they're actually seeing each individual and helping just because they can.

I get what you say about good and evil. It's not about having our heroes punch a black and white 100% evil dude, just about our heroes doing something that is undoubtedly the right thing. And here it is just to prevent people from getting hurt by debris. There was no complicated moral dilemma on saving them as much as there was no moral dilemma in talking Void out of it instead of punching things out.

The movie never tells you to ponder if Bob is good or evil. He just needed help in that moment and the Thunderbolts were in a position they could help him, so why not?

the first time i cried in thunderbolts was when they all worked together to save that woman from the chunk of a building

superhero movies are about people who have the ability to help people and choose to do so

that isn’t all there is but i think the mcu has gotten so focused in the weeds of the multiverse and inner group politics and whatever that they forgot that the reason we watch superhero movies is because we want to watch good guys fight bad guys, but more importantly, we want to watch them help people because that’s why they fight the bad guys in the first place

[inkskinned]

okay i almost never address the very small amount of internet fame i have. and sometimes yes it sucks. people often repost my work, or clip it out of context, or flat-out steal it. but like it can be very funny. once a follower dm'd me to say a guy on hinge was pretending to be "inkskinned", and actually had even started his own insta. when she said "i've followed her for years i don't think you're her", he said - actually r.i.d is like seven people, we just made those initials up. (rude). when i found his insta and messaged him, he begged me to just lie and say he was r.i.d because "it's hard for men to date."

once someone said she should be allowed to plagiarize my work because she was a body-positive influencer and that if i "made a big deal" about this and "got her cancelled", i would be doing damage to my own community and i was never "actually" an ally.

i bear these things with the aura of a martyr, the way my catholic father raised me to. i message privately. i handle things quietly and quickly. i do not complain because i am very, very, very, very blessed and i know that. mercy and gentleness literally pour out of me every morning when i wake up, and then i have to mop the floors for how very Good i am.

however today is the first time i have ever had a very specific problem that neither requires me to correct this person nor throw them to the dogs but is somehow worse than years of hatemail, reddit thread death threats, and pinterest reposts:

someone quoted me and just got it, like, a little wrong.

[riddlerosehearts]

isabeau's confession at the end of ISAT is constantly living rent-free in my head it's so fucking good. right now i'm obsessed with the way he responds to siffrin saying "i love you too" because just. imagine you're siffrin and for so long now you've believed that you were horrible disgusting manipulative unloved and unworthy of love and yet. your best friend is telling you he loves you. and you feel that you love him too (in what way? the same way that he loves you? you're not quite sure yet, but stars, you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest, he means so much to you) so you tell him so.

and he responds by telling you he already knew that because he has eyes.

you're siffrin and you are kind passionate protective and so loved and full of love for your friends, your family, and yet you hate yourself so, so deeply that you don't see any of that but isabeau does. according to him it's written all over your face, apparently--the face you're always trying so hard to hide with your hat, which as the universe would have it, you don't have anymore!! and he sees you and he loves you and he knows you love him back, even after you said and did such horrible, cruel things to him and the rest of your family that you know they didn't deserve, after you almost broke the world trying to keep them by your side, somehow isa understands you and still loves every single part of you. and you love him, you love him, you love him because how could you not?

especially since he also got so excited when you told him you loved him that he shouted "CRAB YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in your face.