#the question hidden in plain sight

[reality-detective]

What else did he say? 👇

And there are a lot more of these to explore so löök this guy up and happy digging 🤔

[avelera]

Where the heck is Satan in Good Omens S2?

And could we perhaps find evidence of him in the places where the furniture used to be?

For reference:

Hastur & Ligur, 1.1: "All Hail Satan." "All Hail Satan."

Crowley, 1.5: "I never asked to be a demon. I was just minding my own business one day and then… oh, lookie here, it's Lucifer and the guys."

Adam Young 1.6: "You're not my dad and you never were."

Satan, 1.6: "No, no, no!" (He promptly dissolves into black ash and vanishes. Immediately after, Aziraphale and Crowley look at their no-longer-flaming sword and tire iron as if not entirely sure why they're there.)

Crowley, 2.1: "Do you ever think, what's the point? ... Heaven, Hell, Demons, Angels?"

Crowley 2.2 (circa ~2000 BCE): "Satan and his diabolical ministers..."

Gabriel 2.3: "I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the angels of god shouted for joy.” (emphasis mine. Lucifer/Satan was the Morning Star. Why the heck is morning stars plural??)

Edit: Shax 2.6: “I demand that you hand over both Gabriel and Beelzebub as gifts for Satan, our master.” (Could debunk the whole theory, might not only because she seems pretty low-ranked and could be going through the motions even though he's gone, but we'll see. Including to get all the evidence down.)

... And I think there's some other S2 references to higher ups and "Our Lord" by Shax supposedly, but I'm too sleep-deprived to go combing through for them (I'd be much obliged if anyone else could grab any other exact quotes that mention Satan by name or seem to refer to him in Season 2.)

Let's first get the Doylist explanation for why Satan might not be around out of the way: Satan was the Big Bad of Season 1. He's been dispatched. Furthermore, he's played by the most likely very expensive Benedict Cumberbatch, so he's not likely to be back in a hurry if it at all can be avoided, and alluding to him at all might just create confusion with viewers who will then expect to see Satan.

(Below the cut: but what if there's more to it than that?)

But as others may have seen with the, "Metatron is actively editing the Book of Life in S2 and that's why things are weird," meta, there's quite a bit of speculation going around that something fucky is going on in S2.

However, while I agree that some points in S2 are certainly fucky I'm not convinced on all or even most of the supporting evidence. Most of the explanations have a Doylist counterpoint like "It's just bad writing," or "They just wanted to bring back some actors they enjoyed working with," or, "The film crew just made a mistake," or "They just forgot that bit of continuity." After all, half of the original writing duo is tragically no longer with us, so there's going to be some level of story drift regardless.

While in general I find the, "It's not that deep," explanation more plausible in most instances, I'd be a very poor disgruntled English Major indeed if I made sweeping claims that the wallpaper being blue is always a coincidence. It's muddier with TV because there's so many proverbial cooks in the kitchen and plenty of human error to go around, but I'd equally never claim that I think Good Omens S2 wasn't a labor of love by those who worked on it, and certainly there's evidence that care was taken in its production, so everything that's off being a mistake is also not a sweeping generalization I'd want to make either.

Which is my way of saying that I'm not convinced by the Metatron meta but I think some of the ideas there are on to something. I don't think it's plausible that a writer would in S3 reveal that in S2, the heretofore largely off-screen character of the Metatron was actively editing the story as we went with the heretofore only mentioned once, never seen, and immediately denounced as a joke Book of Life. BUT, there is some fucky stuff happening that I won't say was the result of some Genius Mastermind Writer deciding it was a good idea to actively write badly and provide stories with no payoff, but I will consider that some of the apparent continuity errors might not be so accidental as they seem, because this was a labor of love and at least on this count, I don't think that Neil was necessarily that careless. Or at least, I'm more inclined to look for clues in places where I can see logistical choices being made, rather than in more subjective claims like "This bad writing is meant to be Bad Writing and therefore a Clue." Because writing is hard even under the best of circumstances, especially in TV and having lost the aforementioned half of a beloved writing duo.

Moving on! Thing is, if we're to believe that there's some sort of mystery hidden in plain sight that was introduced in Season 2, then it did not pay off yet. This makes me a little suspicious of the overall claims that there was a hidden Season 2 mystery, because a good mystery really should pay off within the text, and expecting the reader to keep their unsatisfied suspicions in their heads for 3-4 years for a later satisfying conclusion is... optimistic at best and downright sloppy at worst.

Unless, the mystery spans the entire show. If the clues we're seeing are meant to pay off in S3, and we assume some level of competence, then more likely these are series spanning mysteries that will be satisfying when one is able to watch all three installments. And that means, if there is a mystery in S2, we should be checking back with Season 1 to look for the roots of it.

Which is what brings me to Satan.

What on Earth happened to Satan?

Is Satan still around?

Now, my theory would be much more satisfying to me, personally, if Satan's name was never spoken in S2 but alas, there is the Book of Job episode and I believe some other mentions by name, mostly by Shax? I'd love some backup on that. But I very deliberately don't count demons just saying things like, "Our lord" or making vague referrals to the powers that be to be references to Satan because if he's vanished, someone could have easily filled the power vacuum or there could be an empty throne room somewhere and everyone is just going through the motions (or he's become the Sandman Lucifer who fucked off to lie on a beach, which would be delightful. Anyway).

When Hastur and Ligure showed up in 1.1 they specifically said, "All Hail Satan," and Crowley was shown to be an outsider that he did not return this familiar call-and-response. Yet no one in Hell in S2 uses the All Hail Satan greeting. The references to Satan are few, even in Hell. There doesn't seem to be a lot of fear of Satan either, but more around other higher-ups like Beelzebub, Duke of Hell, who appears to be the highest ranking person we see in Hell?

And also interestingly, Crowley and Beelzebub are both lamenting how pointless all of this seems. Kind of interesting for two individuals who still despise Heaven too and, presumably, took Satan's side once long ago when they all Fell. The political fire has definitely gone out of them, which can be plausibly attributed to the Apocalypse failing and/or the two of them falling in love with their Angelic counterparts, but it's also just kind of weird that suddenly they both really don't see the point in any of these conflicts that once defined their existence.

Perhaps, and this is where I go out on a limb or ten, because Satan isn't around anymore?

Is there no longer a hand at the wheel in Hell, reminding everyone of their loathing of Heaven?

Is there no longer someone actively above Beelzebub, telling them what to do, such that they have the freedom to sneak away and pursue a romance with an archangel and not have their boss show up to stop them the way Gabriel's did?

Did Adam, when he made Satan not his father but more importantly that Satan never was his father, undo more than we realize?

Because that's the kind of Gaiman mystery that I can wholly believe is lurking in plain sight, because Satan was a big deal in S1, he was the Big Bad! It's in the text! The damned book series is built on the idea of a satirical Antichrist take on The Omen. All Hail Satan is one of the first spoken lines of dialogue in the book. Satan is kind of central to any story that's going to revolve around a battle between Heaven and Hell!

And yet... he's barely mentioned this season. And demons suddenly don't remember what they're fighting for. How odd.

Maggie and Nina's actresses also played nuns of the Satanic Chattering Order of St. Beryl. If there was no Antichrist, isn't it possible that neither of those women would have become Satanic nuns and might, instead, own a coffee shop and a record store somewhere?

If there was no Antichrist, isn't it possible that through some convoluted series of events, Madame Tracy, a witch, fell afoul of a demon or managed to become one herself?

Isn't it possible that once you open the door to the ripple effects of a Satan who either never existed (though the Fall still happened) or who only existed up until at least Job, but who was never Adam's father, that some other fucky things could happen too, like Aziraphale suddenly not being fond of alcohol? This continuity detail is much more of a stretch but it is such a plot point in the book that Aziraphale loves to drink and S1 that I do find that particular continuity break particularly vexing and it's one I side-eye the most in terms of "not sure if sloppiness or a Clue".

Anyway, point is:

Satan is curiously absent this season and technically, he was unmade or at least unmade as Adam's father last season. If something is fucking with the timeline, I think that on-screen, very visible event deserves some scrutiny over and beyond vaguely alluded to, off-screen fuckery by the Metatron with no in-text confirmation at all.

There's a lot of weird and bad writing in S2, sure, but some of the continuity breaks do, admittedly, feel too big to be simple oversights and I don't think it's entirely conspiratorial to think something more might be going on and if such a mystery is going to span multiple seasons, we should look back to S1 for the seeds.

It is possible that the unmaking of Satan has had ripple effects that explain some of these continuity changes and some of the cheeky casting of S1 actors in new roles as perhaps not entirely without in-story justification.

So in my mind, the question I have no answer to, but that might deserve some scrutiny going into Season 3 is:

How much did Satan never being Adam's father alter the timeline?

Edit: And here's one last spooky quote to consider: “I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the angels of god shouted for joy." - Gabriel's weird prophecy / quoting of God

Why single out the reference to morning stars plural? Lucifer is very famously the Morning Star, you can't accidentally allude to morning stars in this context without referring to him, you just can't. So what the fuck is going on with this Biblically sourced quote that sort of alludes to Satan, but not by name, and makes the reference to the Morning Star plural?? And even though it is the original text, apparently, it's still a choice by the writers to really highlight the line about morning stars and give that line to Gabriel to say in the present too. Something is sus.

[elysian-fawn]

not shifting related in the slightest & SLIGHT CSM SPOILERS FOR PART 2 buuuuut ,,

csm 198 . . . fujimoto you actual fucking goat ૮꒰ྀི ́ඉ .̫ ඉ ꒱ྀིა literally have never ever ever seen one ( 1 ) person even post a crack theory in the almost three years of fami's existence in pt2 ugggghhhgghghghg i love you chainsaw man

currently on phase three of the cycle ,,,, literally abt to reread pt2 with this newfound knowledge like UGGHHHHHH MY GOAT ISN'T WASHED I KNEWWW MY FAITH WAS PUT IN GOOD HANDS .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·.

[wordsoftheheartandsoul]

There's a difference between being hidden in plain sight and people pretending they don't see you. So many of us question our abilities, talents, and impact because we feel we don't get the appreciation, acceptance, or opportunities we deserve. Understand this: people acknowledging your efforts and energy is not the goal. It's knowing, seeing, protecting, and thriving in your authenticity, abilities, and talents. That's going to always set you apart.

Morgan Richard Olivier - the strength that stays

[mrpenguinpants]

Just the weight I needed.

— You ask to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

— Phainon, Mydei + Jing Yuan

[Masterlist]

After that monster of a Lighter fic, I just wanted to write something nice and silly. I'm serious, the next fic I write might actually be 20k words. The title is from BSD btw, love and kisses to whoever gets it.

Phainon

Realistically, if you brought the idea up to Phainon, it could go one of two ways. One possibility is that he’d be fully on board—no hesitation, no questions asked, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life. He’d immediately drop to the ground in one fluid motion, presenting his back like a beautifully adorned, living throne, every muscle flexing with anticipation. His arms would be poised, elbows bent just enough to secure the perfect balance, ready to support you as he began his impromptu strength training. His determined blue eyes would gleam with unshakable resolve, like a knight pledging his undying loyalty to his sovereign. To him, carrying you wouldn’t just be an exercise—it would be a calling, an honor, a challenge to conquer.

The other possibility? A completely different reaction. Phainon, with a rare, grave expression—one that only emerged in times of true distress—would place his hands firmly on your shoulders, his grip unwavering, grounding you in place. His normally vibrant demeanor would dim, his brows drawing together in deep concern as he searched your face for any sign of distress. And then, with a devastated choke, his voice thick with unfiltered worry, he’d ask, “Are you being blackmailed?”

It's not like your request is so out there that Phainon needs to find you a scapegoat for why you're asking. This isn't even the first time he's bent far stricter rules with actual consequences slightly to fulfill your requests! The man has an impressive track record of brushing the laws of common decency and practicality under the rug when it comes to helping you out. Take that one time in the baths for instance—when you were trying to get some peace and quiet, hiding under a sea of bubbles to avoid your duties. Phainon, ever the loyal accomplice, had simply closed his eyes, zipped his mouth shut with a soft snap of his fingers, and let you lie in blissful, responsibility-free silence. No questions asked. No protest. Just remarking about how difficult it was to find you before walking away.

Or the most recent example, when you decided to spy on the newest esteemed guests. It was a delicate situation, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to sneak a peek without drawing attention. So, of course, you enlisted Phainon’s help. He positioned himself like a human shield, blocking any unwanted gazes as you peered from behind him, hidden by his imposing figure. All the while, you stayed as quiet as possible, watching the guests converse with Aglaea while Phainon pretended to be entirely uninterested, despite his complete awareness of what you were up to. The point is, this request? It’s nothing compared to the stunts he’s pulled for you in the past. It wouldn't even include anyone outside you two!

Suggestion: Inflection baby! Sound just as enthusiastic as him! (It's not like he would ever say no)

Delighted squeals and giggles echo off the marbled walls as your view of the giant sphere in the sky—situated at the center of Okhema—bobs up and down, like a real ball you used to play with as a kid. In fact, everything about this moment feels like you've been transported back in time, swept up in a childish sort of joy that you haven't felt in years. Even though it's undeniably a silly sight—you, perched sideways on Phainon's back, your toes just barely hovering above the ground—you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t at least a tiny bit fun. It took a bit of hassle to convince Phainon that no, you weren’t being blackmailed, bribed, or coerced into this request. There were no hidden motives, no dark secrets behind it—just a plain, simple, and entirely ridiculous desire to see if he could do it.

"Don't forget that you're supposed to keep count," Phainon chastises lightly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the bright, boyish grin tugging at his lips. His tone is more playful than scolding, his usual boundless energy making it impossible to take him seriously. It's weird seeing him from this angle, half of his face turned over his shoulder as your neck cranes down for once. Seriously, what were they feeding this man?

"Oops, sorry!" you manage between muffled laughter, barely able to catch your breath, "I guess I lost track... maybe we should start over?"

"If that's what Your Highness wants, then it shall be done," Phainon says as easily as breathing, bending his elbows to push up again.

Mydei

Haha. No. Just no.

First of all, you wouldn’t even be a significant weight for Mydei—he could take you on as resistance training in the same way a bodybuilder might consider lifting a single book. If anything, he’d have to stack at least five more of you just to make it remotely challenging. Secondly, why on Amphoreus would you think he’d let you sit on his back? Best-case scenario, he’d stare at you with a long, exhausted sigh before asking if you’d recently taken a tumble down the stairs and cracked your head open. It’s not like he’s even being that mean when he says it anyway. Well, for Mydei standards at least. The fact that he hasn't bashed your head into the floor is, quite frankly, a miracle. The fact he hasn't bashed your head into the concrete itself is a wild understatement that you've lowered any respect he has for you over the days you've been acquainted with him.

Your first meeting was when you had misjudged how many steps there were and slipped forward. The inviting concrete was ready with open arms to split your head open, but Mydei, ever the observant type, had caught you just in time. There you were, suspended in mid-air, not even sure how you ended up there. Your limbs flailed like a ragdoll as he pulled on the back of your shirt with one arm, effortlessly lifting you with little more than the ease of a casual stretch. You'd been too stunned to even form words at the time—only managing a stammered thank-you as he set you back down as if saving you from an embarrassing death by stairs was just another casual Tuesday for him. In retrospect, it was a miracle you hadn’t cracked your skull open on the concrete. And of course, he’d said something entirely deadpan in response, like, "Pay attention next time," before turning back to his blue-haired companion. And he wonders why you're so obsessed with wanting to sit on his back.

Mydei has a short fuse and a quick temper, and as much as you'd really like to put your hand on his chest just to see his reaction, you also enjoy breathing a little too much to risk it. Not to mention, you can’t exactly take him in a fight. If you could, staking a bet that if you won, he’d have to fulfill your request would be a piece of cake. But alas, he's built like a wall, and your ability to land a punch would probably be a joke in comparison. So instead, you're left with the very real, very sensible option of begging and wearing him down with your charm—or at least hoping he’ll eventually tire of saying no. The risk? Well, it's still there, but that’s what makes it fun, right?

Suggestion: Beggars can't be choosers and living is pretty cool. Better to ask Phainon instead.

You've barely uttered the first syllable of your question before you're unceremoniously scooped up by the back of your clothing, lifted from the ground like a disgruntled cub being dragged away by its mother. Except, in this case, it's more like being hoisted over someone's firm shoulder, your limbs dangling helplessly as you're treated like a sack of potatoes. The bewilderment on your face is a new look as Phainon's figure grows smaller and smaller in the distance, the sound of your protests muffled by the unexpected shift. Amid your confusion, you catch sight of the blue bastard waving gleefully, a cheery smile plastered across his face as if he’s just won some kind of victory.

"Um, not that I'm complaining, but... where exactly are you taking me?" you ask, your voice tentative as you try to adjust yourself on his shoulder. On one hand, you're living the dream, able to feel those muscles effortlessly hoisting you up like you're nothing more than a feather. But on the other, his shoulder is starting to dig uncomfortably into your stomach, and it's quickly turning into a rather awkward ride. You shift slightly, trying to find a less painful position, but all you accomplish is further squishing yourself against his back.

"Training room." is all Mydei says. There's no snark, no extra words, just that one brief statement that leaves you quite literally and metaphorically hanging.

"Ah. Training room, huh?" you say back lamely, even though you're internally screaming in elation, your arms up in the air as you bow toward whatever Aeon is looking out for you.

You can totally tell by the way Mydei drops you in the middle of the pathway that he knows exactly what you're thinking.

Jing Yuan

Contrary to popular belief, you aren't blind. Even if the General is a bit too old to still be in his "bachelor" years—do those even truly exist for long-life species?—Jing Yuan is... well, let’s just say he’s easy on the eyes. Super easy. A five-star resort easy on the eyes. Is this what they call a silver foxian? He was the one who off-handedly mentioned it when your traitorous eyes had decided to linger a tad bit too long on the shape of his back during a meeting. Of course, you had to act all professional about it, clearing your throat and giving him a strict reprimand about how inappropriate it was to bring such things up in a work environment. You almost nailed the tone too, until you rounded the corner and crumbled into a puddle of embarrassment. What the hell just happened? How did he do that to you with just one little comment? That was so... unfair. It didn’t help that the image of sitting on his back while he did push-ups kept playing in your mind—every chiseled angle, every movement, the way he had to flex those back muscles with each rep. Seriously, how were you supposed to function with that lingering in your thoughts?

It takes several days for neither of you to address the elephant in the room. The tension lingers in the air, thick and unspoken, but it doesn't quite impede your duties. You carry on with your work, he continues to be as "lax" as ever—his presence still an odd mix of effortless command and lazy confidence. But there's something there, a shift, subtle yet undeniable. Every time you glance at him, there's the tiniest degree of something different in his smile, a sharpness to it that grows more cat-like with each passing moment. His expression seems to hold a quiet, menacing amusement as he sits across from you, still and patient, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that feels almost predatory. He reminds you of his pet lion in those moments, the way she watches her prey with those intense, knowing eyes. Her demeanor is calm, almost gentle, until the moment she pounces, and you can’t help but imagine the way the small, frail necks of her dinner break so easily between the crushing strength of her jaws. Yet, her owner, Jing Yuan, still calls her the sweetest, most docile creature, even with blood still staining her paws. A crazy man.

Patience is a virtue, they say. And eventually, with enough time, water will wear down the hardest stone. You’ve tried to avoid it, to ignore the inevitable, but today feels different. The morning is quiet, bathed in the soft light of the rising sun—a golden hour where the world feels still as if it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. It’s just you and Jing Yuan, silently preparing for the events ahead, the hum of the day yet to begin. There are meetings lined up, one in particular that has been pushed back so many times due to Jing Yuan’s absences that it's now on the verge of becoming a disaster. The final meeting needs to happen tonight, or his white mane might end up skewered on the end of a spear. The weight of it lingers in the air, but for now, it’s just the two of you, and the calm chirping of his precious finches acts as the only soundtrack to the morning’s preparations. As you glance at him—his calm, unflappable demeanor, his steady hands—something shifts inside you. It’s not immediate, but it’s undeniable. You finally allow yourself to acknowledge what’s been sitting in the back of your mind, simmering beneath the surface: you’re no better than your General.

Suggestion: Life is too short for things like dignity and shame, go for the throat!

"General, I apologize for my lapse in judgment, but I seriously cannot do this, or I might suffer a stroke."

Your words come out in a strangled rush, your face contorting into a myriad of expressions—none of them quite fitting for the situation. You're staring down at Jing Yuan, sprawled out on his stomach, looking entirely unbothered as he waits for you to—well, do exactly what he’d asked. Sit on his back. You have to remind yourself that it was technically his suggestion, his agreement when you’d tentatively raised the question, and yet here you are, mentally spiraling into a moral crisis. Every fiber of your being screams that this is just... wrong. This can't possibly be something that should happen in a professional setting, in a place of authority, with a man who is the very definition of your superior.

But no, there’s Jing Yuan, lying there with that serene look in his eyes, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips as if this were just another ordinary task in his day. You swallow thickly, still battling with your internal conflict, even though the situation is slowly spinning out of your control. How did this become a thing?

"Ah, well. I will not force you to do something you're so against," Jing Yuan says with a light chuckle, standing up smoothly as if your entire dilemma was merely a fleeting thought. He pats his pants as if brushing away any invisible dust, his movements deliberate and calm. Then, with a casual grace, he crosses his arms behind his back, his posture exuding the confidence and composure only someone of his status could command. "But it is a warrior's shame to go back on their words, don't you agree?"

You blink rapidly, momentarily taken aback by his smoothness, but the weight of his words presses on you. You can almost feel the invisible pressure of your promise tightening around you. You stammer a bit, trying to regain some semblance of control, but you can only manage a meek response.

"Ah— I... yes, General."

Before you can fully process the situation, his large, warm hand lands heavily on your shoulder. It's not the usual friendly gesture, though. No, this time it feels more like a reminder—one that makes you shrink into yourself involuntarily. His hand is firm and for the briefest moment, you feel like you're pinned in place by the sheer force of his presence. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but now, in the face of his unwavering authority, you can’t help but feel small.

"So, I can count on you to fill in my stead for today's meeting then?" Jing Yuan's voice is light, but there's an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. A satisfied lion getting away with murder, "Excellent, I knew I could count on you!"

[olive-main]

oooo if you’re interested would love to see your take: reader is Azriel’s mate, nobody knows. The inner circle keeps trying to set him up with females (including Elaine & Gwyn). They like reader but don’t view her as an option for being his partner. Lots of angst, she’s hurting, she overhears them saying she’s not an option for him. Up to you what happens for her and Azriel. Loved your last story, and that you wanted more angst ideas!! And if this isn’t what you’re looking for, all good!

Between Us Alone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s mate overhears a conversation that shakes her confidence in their hidden bond, but he reminds her that love, even in shadows, is unbreakable.

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: Annndddd welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming. This time I come with the gift of some fluff (with angst ofc bcs duh—who do y’all think I am?) Enjoy the happy endings while they last…..evil laugh

Masterlist

——

The corridors of the House of Wind were quiet, save for the faint hum of conversation that drifted from Rhysand’s office. You’d gone looking for Azriel, hoping he might steal away from his “boys’ night” early and join you at your shared apartment.

A secret, the two of you. Hidden in plain sight. Quite fitting for Rhysand’s spymasters.

It was exhilarating at first—the quiet smiles across rooms, the fleeting brushes of hands, and the stolen glances when no one else was looking. But there were cracks now, small fissures of insecurity that made you wonder if keeping the bond private had been the right choice.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared Rhys’s office, voices clear now, though you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were about to knock when you caught the sound of Cassian’s boisterous laughter.

“Oh, come on, Az,” Cassian said, his tone teasing. “You’ve been spending all that time with Gwyn. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Gwyn’s sweet,” Rhysand added. “And she clearly enjoys your company. You’d make a good pair.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

Azriel’s reply was quieter, almost unreadable. “Gwyn is a friend. I’m not looking for… that.”

Cassian scoffed. “You say that now, but it’s been centuries, Az. When was the last time you even tried to let someone in? Gwyn’s perfect for you—kind, strong, clever. She gets you.”

“She’s not the only option,” Rhys said smoothly. “There are others. Nesta’s mentioned a few priestesses who would be good matches.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “There’s also Y/N.”

You pressed your hand to the doorframe, your breaths shallow as you heard Cassian say your name.

“No, I don’t see them together. They rarely speak to each other outside of missions and a few shared words at dinners.” Rhysand says with a shake of his head as if the thought of you and Azriel together was the most unlikely thing he could think of.

You shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have listened, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. They didn’t mean to hurt you—you knew that. You’d always been on the periphery of their circle, a friend but never a true equal in their eyes. Azriel’s shadows had been your sanctuary, his quiet love a solace you cherished.

But to hear them speak so casually, as if you weren’t even a possibility…

Azriel’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker. I can handle my own life.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Cassian said, clearly amused.

“Drop it,” Azriel snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

The room fell silent after that, but the damage was done. You turned and fled, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step.

—

The space you shared with Azriel was small but cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Velaris where no one thought to look. It was your haven, the only place you could truly be yourselves without prying eyes or whispered questions.

But tonight, it felt suffocating.

You sank onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as the doubts clawed at your mind.

This charade was necessary. You both knew that. If they ever found out you and Azriel had been together for months—years, now—it would complicate everything. Not just for him, but for you.

As Azriel’s partner, you worked in the shadows as he did, your work as vital and delicate as his own. Secrecy was second nature to you both, and you’d agreed early on that revealing your bond—to anyone—was too risky.

You’d thought you could handle it. But moments like this, when they talked about Azriel’s love life like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t his, made you question how much more you could endure.

You told yourself it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. He hadn’t encouraged them. He’d even told them to stop. But the weight of their words lingered, stirring fears you’d tried so hard to bury.

What if they were right? What if Azriel deserved someone like Gwyn, someone who could stand beside him without the need for secrecy?

You didn’t hear the front door open, too lost in your thoughts to notice the familiar sound of Azriel’s footsteps until he was standing in front of you.

“Something’s wrong,” he said immediately, his hazel eyes scanning your face. His shadows swirled around him, restless and sharp. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

His brow furrowed, and he crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You looked away, your throat tightening as you tried to hold back tears.

“Y/N,” he said softly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I went to Rhys’s office,” you admitted quietly. “I was going to find you, but… I heard you all talking.”

Azriel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What did you hear?” He already knew. There was only one part of the conversation that could’ve had you so distraught.

You swallowed hard. “They… they were trying to set you up with someone. Gwyn, mostly. Rhys mentioned others.” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “They said I wasn’t even an option.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his shadows curling tighter around him.

“They didn’t mean it to hurt me, I know that” you added quickly, seeing how Azriel was ready to go back and pummel his brothers. “They don’t know about us. But… it still hurt.”

He exhaled sharply, standing and pacing the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “They had no right—”

“They care about you,” you interrupted. “They want you to be happy. And maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone like Gwyn. Someone who—”

“Stop.”

The word was a command, sharp and unyielding. Azriel crossed the room in an instant, kneeling before you again. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle.

“Don’t you dare doubt this,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare doubt us.”

Tears spilled over, and he reached up to brush them away, his touch achingly tender.

“You are my mate,” he said, his voice breaking. “You. Not Gwyn, not anyone else. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever want.”

“But they—”

“They’re idiots,” he said flatly. “I’ll deal with them. But don’t let their ignorance make you doubt what we have.”

You searched his face, finding only unwavering certainty in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his voice softening. “More than I thought I was capable of. And I don’t care if they don’t see it. I see it. I feel it.”

A broken laugh escaped you, relief washing over you like a tide. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the world.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never wanted you to feel like this. I thought keeping the bond private would protect us, but if it’s hurting you—”

“It’s not,” you said quickly. “Not really. I just… I needed to hear this. To hear you.”

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours. “You’ll never have to doubt me again.”

——

Aren’t they just so sweet *sigh*. Thank you for reading <3

Requests are still open ;)

[8housevenus]

12th house synastry!

wanted to do this because 12th house is super interesting to look into, and when your partner/friends/etc has their placements in your 12th house it can reveal a lot that hasn't been known before, your future with this individual, inexplainable feelings and occurrences, lets dive into it.

partner sun in your 12th house - usually this person will unlock a part of your brain that will teach you the deeper meaning of life, they will provoke you with intense thoughts to challenge you and connect you deeper to reality. you find that this person usually understands you without much explanation, sometimes it might even feel surreal on the basis they can read you. you are predictable to them and almost feel that nothing in this bond can be hidden from them. they admire something about your mental strength and want you to express your burdens than to shy from them. it doesn't scare you so much at the thought of it, but your biggest challenge will be opening up to this individual- and depending on how their sun is aspected it can show you the intentions they have with knowing these things about you. ex; if they have sun trine your moon, they will be emotionally there with you. if they have sun oppose mercury/uranus, they can be very chatty and spill some of your traumas and experiences to others.

partner moon in your 12th house - this person is very respecting to your emotions, and they find you to be their happy places in a way. they love when they can get past surface level discussion with you, to them they love to protect you and tell you things that are far too uncomfortable to tell other people. sometimes it can become an overburdening where you might pull away and the partner begins to question what this means for the relationship. set boundaries, but also let this person play the role they want because the backbone of this relationship is going to be your longevity of trust with each other. might be hard to make the moon person change his/her habits, but all they need is a gentle tug.

partner mercury in your 12th house - this person will be the one to tell you information you don't want to hear but need to hear. you might often resent this individual sometimes because of this and feel that they can get distant towards you from time to time, or jumpy in their explanations. the mercury person will have a quick temperament, and the communication can become murky, but you don't forget what they tell you though, and usually they will be the ones telling you stories to learn from or traumatic experiences. just be sure to set limits with this placement, as they can overstep or really push away. but besides that, they find an appreciation for your company, and they become quite fixated on you when you keep up the communication. otherwise, it can go either way.

partner venus in your 12th house - feelings left unsaid is the energy that exudes here. secretly being admired or having to admit it out of one another. the venus person will often try and match your love language as much as possible, they will find out things you like (music, interests, content, friends/family members, you name it), to have an underlying similarity. it can become borderline obsession; however this partner is naturally clingy towards you and knows how you inter-operate than most people do. you have predictable patterns to these people because of how much they analyze you from afar. their biggest fears in terms of love with you is that you abandon them or shun them away, even minimal acknowledgement make them fall for you even harder. just be aware that this can be an intense spot for venus.

partner mars in your 12th house - you both might impulsively jump into experiences together, this person shows you newer practices, mentalities, anything hidden in plain sight. they will encourage you to express your desires more and can also get sexually aroused by you without you even knowing when it happens. creates a healthy intensity between the two of you and the mars knows not to overstep surprisingly, as confident as they are, they do back down when things might get too overstimulating for the house person. there's a sense of care and adrenaline the mars person gives to the house person, they will please them in many ways and approach them in such an unforgettable way too. you might uncover that your sex-life with this person is so top tier, and roleplaying is prominent in your lives. if you think it, it comes to life.

partner jupiter in your 12th house - the jupiter person will change your life dramatically, spiritually you will feel very positive around this person, and almost like you take a part of them when you're not with them. you admire their ability to get more of everything from life, which of course they do teach you, their ways. the jupiter person will take pride in helping you benefit from them, especially when both of you mean well. these people might feel even god-sent sometimes, be careful to not take more than you give to these people, as jupiter is about luck and you never know. they can give you an old soul kind of energy, and one that just wants the betterment for the people they care about including the house person.

partner saturn in your 12th house - as stern as this person might come off to you, they are intensely loyal and work hard to sustain the relationship between the two of you- in their own way. you usually have no abnormalities between the two of you, although you will want to be clingy to them, remember that they persevere the best when they are alone and, in the zone, don't smother these people too much or they will forget about their tasks and abandon them. emotionally they can seem off, but depending on how their saturn is aspected, it can show you the ways they open up and how long it can take them too. because it is your 12th house, they will be drawn to your dark nature and match that with discipline, as a result very unspoken dynamic at times, but a very loyal and committed one.

partner uranus in your 12th house - uranus person will oddly understand you out of many people in your life, they themselves can sometimes even analyze your lifestyle and mindset a little too hard where they try to inflict so much change onto you. they may also insist on involving other people to come and convince you to be a part of something that maybe you don't want to be. this is a prime example of a groupie dynamic, uranus person will introduce you to the similar things that have changed them as a person (good or bad), house person will either like it or hate it. house person has to draw the line on what they say to the uranus person before they can draw out their life.

partner neptune in your 12th house - neptune person will be your peacekeeper and you feel a sense of belonging towards one another. there is a good balance between the two of you where you respect each other's privacy but also drop casual lores of each other here and there. this mutual respect makes the 12th house person very fond of the neptune person and creates for good long term relations. the neptune person admires 12th house person's abilities to discern topics in a similar way to them. these people have similar troubles i notice, and both heal together in a harmonious way that can turn them religious at the same time, or heavily spiritual at the same time. they are super on sync, or the neptune person will try to catch up to the house person a lot.

partner pluto in your 12th house - pluto person will make you shift perspectives all the time, and doesn't like to take short cuts. they want the house person to feel all their feelings, explain them thoroughly, and understand their capabilities. the pluto person can genuinely help the house person feel ready for the changes they are going to experience. pluto will remind the house that darkness is a necessity to experience light. the house person will resent this at first, but then become vulnerable and respecting of pluto's efforts to help them transform into the person they are meant to be. the pluto person won't mind the house person's whiplash from time to time, as usually the pluto person has heavy life experiences that they can only ease in to understand somebody elses.

partner chiron in your 12th house - this person will find themselves healing through you. your dynamic will teach them things about themselves that wasn't apparent to them when they were younger, or before they met you. house person will help chiron ease into their insecurities and become more open to the idea of acceptance. while the chiron person will accept house for all their flaws and allow the house person to be themselves without carrying shame. as long as this bond is mutually beneficial, it can help both people grow. however chiron person can be burdening to house person if they feel that chiron is always at the brink of sabotage, it can be hard to maintain. however it can flourish to be beautiful.

that's basically all for 12th house synastry, if you have other placements in the 12th that aren't here tell me below and i will tell you my input on those, thank u so much for readings i know its a strong yap but there's a lot that depends with synastry and this is only the surface of it! <3

[mephisto-reporting]

Hidden in Plain Sight: Xavier

Premise: You were a Lemurian, hidden in plain sight. It was never a probelm.. until you started dating Xavier. With Ebb Day approaching, would you be able to hide it from him? Based on this request. Pairing: Lemurian! Reader x Xavier Note: Reader and Xavier are dating. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist.

The first time you met Xavier, he was asleep. Just lying there, tucked into himself like the world had nothing to do with him, breathing slow and deep as if he had all the time in the universe. You had nearly walked past him, assuming he was just some drifter seeking rest. But when his eyes fluttered open—serene, unreadable, and just a little too knowing and then you felt something shift.

You hadn’t realized then how much those moments would mean to you.

Xavier, with his quiet presence, had slipped into your life like water filling the cracks between stones. He wasn't expressive in the way most humans were, but you learned to read him in other ways. The way his fingers would tap against his knee when he was thinking. The slight tilt of his head when you said something that amused him, the way his lips would quirk up when he teased you.

He could be so endearing in ways that left you breathless, and then frustrating in ways that made you want to shove him. Like when he let himself doze off during Kitty Cards, giving you the perfect opportunity to cheat—not that you ever would. Or when he gave you the choice to go first at the claw machine, watching you struggle with an intensity that was almost unnerving before effortlessly plucking out a prize with an ease that made you groan.

"You looked like you were having fun." he’d say with the barest flicker of mischief in his eyes.

You loved these things about him.

And yet, for all the time you had spent together, for all the things he had come to know about you—he didn't know everything.

Not about the tail you kept hidden. Not about the faint, iridescent scales that shimmered beneath your skin. Not about your eyes that burned too brightly if you let loose.

Because you weren’t human.

You had lived among them long enough that it was easy to forget. You had learned their mannerisms, spoken their language, adapted. But some things never truly went away. The memories of what had happened to your kind—the stories whispered in hushed voices about Lemurians who had been taken, kept as pets, their freedom stolen the moment the seas had begun to recede.

You had no idea how Xavier would react.

Moreover, you were scared that these distinct Lemurian features would be less than appealing to him. You had been insecure about them all your life. Why could you not just be human? Why be ‘blessed’ with these features? You had asked these questions ever since you learned of your heritage.

The fever came in waves, each one worse than the last.

Your body ached, limbs trembling as cold sweat clung to your skin. The sheets beneath you were damp, tangled around your restless form as you tossed and turned. Your head felt like it was underwater—sounds were distant and muffled, light blurred at the edges of your vision. The glowing patterns along your arms flickered weakly, no longer hidden beneath your usual disguise. You were slipping.

You knew this would happen.

It was Ebb Day.

The day the tides receded so far they exposed the ocean’s hidden skeleton, when the land remembered the sea and the sea remembered its people. A day of human celebration—festivals, fireworks, lanterns drifting in the dusk sky. And for Lemurians like you, it was the weakest, most vulnerable time of the year.

You had lived among humans for so long, buried your Lemurian blood so deep, that you almost believed you belonged among them. Almost.

But here, now, in the sweltering heat of your fever, reality crashed over you like a wave. The truth of what you were—of what you had hidden, burned through you with every aching breath.

The soft fins along your arms trembled as chills wracked your body. Your eyes, usually dulled for the sake of blending in, pulsed faintly with their unnatural glow.

It was Ebb Day. And Xavier had wanted to spend it with you.

The way he had asked—softly, earnestly, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered—made your chest ache with guilt. You had said yes before you could stop yourself.

Lemurians were at their weakest during Ebb Day. When the tides pulled away, so did the strength in your limbs. Fever. Chills. A gnawing, unbearable exhaustion. You had known it was coming, and yet the moment you felt the first waves of heat rolling through your body, you cursed your own weakness.

When you called Xavier to tell him you were sick, his reaction was everything you expected—calm, understanding, not even a hint of disappointment in his voice.

You didn’t know how he would react if he found out. You didn’t know if his care for you would falter if he saw you like this—if he knew what you were.

You had heard the stories. When the sea dried up, when the Lemurians lost their sanctuary, they were no longer seen as people. They were pets, slaves, exotic things to be admired and owned. And even now, even after centuries, whispers of those days remained.

Would Xavier see you that way, too?

A fresh wave of fever rolled over you, and you whimpered, curling in on yourself. The room was too hot. No—too cold. You couldn’t tell anymore. The world swayed around you, everything tilting in and out of focus. Your fingers trembled as you ran them over your arms, feeling the faint ridges of scales pushing through too-sensitive skin. You were changing, slipping, losing control—

A noise.

Soft. Barely there. But enough.

Footsteps. The faintest creak of your door.

"You're burning up, aren’t you?."

Xavier’s voice.

It should have been comforting. Instead, it sent ice through your veins.

You forced your eyes open. Your vision swam, a hazy blur of heat and dizziness, but you could see him. Standing there, his brows slightly furrowed, the usual neutrality in his face edged with something sharper. Concern.

Your body went rigid.

No.

No, no, no.

Xavier was here.

A surge of panic cut through the weakness in your limbs. You tried to move, tried to pull the blankets higher, to hide yourself, but your body refused to cooperate. Your strength had long since abandoned you.

And then there was warmth.

A hand against your forehead, cool against the burning of your skin. You flinched, but Xavier didn’t pull away. His touch was steady, grounding.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?"

Your throat felt raw. Your head spun. You wanted to answer, to explain, but the words tangled in your mouth, too heavy to speak.

His gaze flickered downward, and instinctively, you followed his line of sight—

You clenched your eyes shut. Maybe if you didn’t look at him, if you pretended hard enough, he wouldn’t see.

But then…

“You’re glowing.”

Your stomach dropped.

His fingers brushed over your cheek, slow, unhurried. Not startled. Not repulsed. Just tracing the faint luminescence that had broken free from your control. You didn’t dare open your eyes.

“I—” Your voice cracked. You swallowed against the tightness in your throat, but the words wouldn’t come.

Xavier exhaled softly. The bed dipped as he sat beside you.

“You should have told me,” he said, voice even but quiet. "You're a Lemurian." It wasn't a question but more of an observation.

Shame coiled deep in your chest.

“I couldn’t.”

A pause. The warmth of his hand never left your skin.

“…Why?”

Because you were afraid. Because you didn’t want to see the shift in his expression, the hesitation, the unease. Because you wanted to keep this—this strange, wonderful thing between you, the way he let you see the softer edges of himself, the way he looked at you like you were something worth protecting.

Because you didn’t want to lose him.

Your fingers clenched weakly in the sheets. “Lemurians… aren’t safe among humans. I was… scared.”

A moment of silence. Then—

“You don’t think you’re safe with me?”

Your breath hitched.

You opened your eyes then, just barely. The dim light of your room flickered, casting soft shadows over Xavier’s face. His gaze met yours—steady, unreadable, but impossibly gentle.

And there it was.

No fear. No disgust. No cold detachment.

Just Xavier. Just the boy who fell asleep in ridiculous places, the boy who let you win at Kitty Cards, the boy who would throw himself between you and danger without hesitation.

And maybe it was the fever, maybe it was the exhaustion, but something inside you cracked.

A choked sound left you—half a laugh, half a sob.

“Xavier,” you whispered. “You… you’re ridiculous.”

His hand moved before you could react. Slow, deliberate, pressing against the space just above your wrist, where the scales were faintest. His thumb brushed over them, testing, as if he were memorizing the texture.

"You could have told me," he said, voice as steady as ever. But there was something else there now, something you couldn’t place.

"I was scared." you admitted, barely a whisper.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his fingers curled around your wrist, his touch firm, grounding.

"You don't have to be," he murmured. Then, softer, almost teasing, "And here I thought I was the one keeping secrets."

You blinked at him, your thoughts fuzzy as the fever swirled inside your head. "Secrets?" you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. The words felt heavy, like you were trying to carry something too much for you in this state. "What secrets, Xavier?"

He looked at you, his expression still unreadable, but there was an odd tenderness in his gaze. His fingers curled around your wrist, as if grounding both you and himself in this shared moment. He hesitated, his lips pressing together in a thin line, before he spoke again, quieter this time.

"I’ll tell you everything when you're feeling better," he murmured. "But for now... you just need to rest. Listen to your body."

You nodded weakly, your exhaustion making your eyelids heavy. Yet, there was a flutter of anxiety in your chest—something tight, something uncertain. You swallowed hard, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"I was... worried. About my fins... my scales... my eyes." You stammered, the fear bubbling to the surface despite your best efforts to keep it hidden. "I thought it would... freak you out."

Xavier’s hand paused. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb stroked gently over the skin of your wrist, the sensation grounding in a way that calmed the storm of your thoughts. His gaze softened, and he leaned closer to you, the coolness of his breath a slight contrast to the burning fever that gripped you.

“Shhh…" he murmured, a comforting sound. "None of that. None of it would ever freak me out." His voice was soft but firm, a reassurance in the midst of your fear.

He pressed a finger to your lips before you could protest further. "You’re beautiful. Ethereal, even. A person like you," he hesitated for a moment, searching your face as if trying to hold you in a gaze that would keep the words safe, "would never, ever be something to be afraid of. You are perfect as you are."

You inhaled sharply, the words too gentle, too much for you to process in your state. Your heart fluttered—faint and weak, like the softest ripple of water—but it was there, beating, and somehow calming.

Xavier continued, his voice a low murmur as he reached out again. His touch was soft, as if he were afraid to break you, his fingers moving gently along the soft curve of your wrist before moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Whenever you feel comfortable... I’d like to see the real you," he said, a playful note creeping into his voice despite the situation. "Maybe... maybe I could see your tail, too?" He paused, his lips quirking slightly. "I have no doubt it would take my breath away."

The words left you breathless, but in a way that made you feel lighter. The tension that had wound itself tightly in your chest began to ease, your breath coming in slower, steadier gasps. You let out a shuddered breath, unable to stop the faint, tired smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. Your head sank deeper into the pillow, the heat of the fever still present but suddenly more bearable.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words barely audible, but you meant them more than anything. "For... not being afraid."

Then, to your utter disbelief, he shifted, moving carefully until he was lying beside you, propped on one arm. His fingers brushed through your damp hair, slow and deliberate. The warmth of him, the steadiness, sent a shiver through you.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll stay.”

Your chest ached. “You don’t have to—”

He flicked your forehead lightly, the gesture so normal, so achingly fond, that your throat tightened.

Xavier smiled—small, barely there, but real.

“I’ll stay,” he said, settling more comfortably beside you. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You blinked sluggishly up at him, fevered and drained but impossibly, inexplicably safe.

His fingers ghosted over your hand before he spoke again, voice softer now, fond.

“Rest now, seashell.”

The steady thrum of his presence was everything, and you closed your eyes with a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you’d been yearning for. For now, you didn’t have to hide. And that, more than anything, was what gave you the strength to close your eyes and let yourself finally rest.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom @m00nchildwrites

[amyzworldds]

Part Two: Hiding in Plain Sight

Masterlist | Part 1

Seventeen’s chaotic camaraderie, Y/N, the group’s 14th member, navigates a hidden romance with Joshua amidst their hectic schedules. Balancing playful group dynamics, subtle affection, and the pressure of secrecy, their close bond faces challenges from teasing members and unspoken tensions. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Angst, Humor

The van ride back to the dorm was loud, filled with the members’ drunken laughter and slurred stories, but a heavy silence hung between Y/N and Joshua. He sat by the window, earbuds in, staring into the dark Seoul streets like they held answers. Y/N, wedged between a giggling DK and a half-asleep Woozi, kept her eyes on her lap, her stomach churning. Jeonghan’s little game had hit harder than she’d expected.

When they stumbled into the dorm, the members were a mess—Mingyu tripped over a shoe, giggling, while Seungkwan tried to serenade Hoshi with a butchered ballad. Joshua, though, was a different kind of quiet. He kicked off his shoes, muttered a vague “Night” to no one in particular, and headed straight for his room without so much as glancing at Y/N.

She caught Jeonghan’s eye as he slung his jacket over a chair, her glare sharp enough to cut. Look what you’ve done. He just grinned, stepping close to drape an arm around her shoulders, his voice a teasing whisper. “Good luck with sulky, jealous Joshua,” he said, laughing softly before slipping away to his own room, leaving her standing in the dim living room.

The dorm slowly quieted, the chaos giving way to snores and the occasional creak of a bed. Y/N changed into her pajamas—an oversized hoodie and soft shorts—then sank onto the couch, scrolling aimlessly on her phone to kill time. She needed to make sure the members were out cold before sneaking to Joshua’s room. Her chest felt tight, replaying his coldness, the way he’d shut her out. Joshua was never mad—not like this. Even when she was stubborn or pushed his patience, he’d always meet her with a smile or a gentle nudge. This felt different, and she hated it.

After an hour, when the dorm was silent, she padded down the hall, her socks muffling her steps. Joshua’s door was cracked open, a sliver of moonlight spilling out. She slipped inside, closing it softly behind her. He was lying on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes closed, but Y/N knew him too well—his breathing was too even, too deliberate.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as she crossed the room. She climbed onto the bed, settling beside him, her arms wrapping around his waist without hesitation. “Shua, come on.”

He didn’t move, his body tense under her touch. A sigh escaped him, long and heavy, and when he spoke, his voice was low, edged with something raw. “Why don’t you go sleep? Gotta rest up for your big date tomorrow, right?”

Y/N pulled back just enough to see his face, her heart sinking at the tightness in his jaw. She pouted, nudging his chest gently. “You know I didn’t mean any of that,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I only played along with Jeonghan because if I didn’t, the guys would’ve started asking questions. Like, ‘Why’s Y/N so weird about this?’ It could’ve made them suspicious, Shua. I was just… protecting us.”

Joshua’s eyes stayed closed, but his hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for her but wouldn’t let himself. “Protecting us,” he echoed, the words flat. “Funny how that ends up with you agreeing to meet some guy. And the members eating it up, thinking you’re single.”

She frowned, sitting up slightly, her fingers tightening on his shirt. “Joshua, stop. You know you’re the only one I love. Like, only you. That whole thing was a stupid act. I’d never actually go on a date with anyone else.”

He finally opened his eyes, meeting hers in the dim light. They were softer now, but still guarded, searching her face. “Then why can’t we just tell them, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less intense. “The members—they’d get it. They’d probably throw us a damn party. They’re our family. But it’s been years, and we’re still sneaking around, and now they’re out there trying to set you up because they think you’re free to date whoever.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, the familiar argument settling heavy between them. She dropped her gaze, her fingers tracing small circles on his chest to ground herself. “I know,” she admitted, her voice small. “I want to tell them, I swear. Just… not now. It’s the comeback, and everyone’s stressed, and what if it changes things? What if they start treating us differently, or think we’re not focused?”

Joshua sighed again, his hand finally moving to cover hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles. “You always say that,” he said, not accusing, just tired. “‘Not now.’ But it’s been three years, Y/N. I’m tired of watching you pretend I’m just another member. I’m tired of feeling like I have to hide how much I—” He stopped, swallowing hard, his eyes flicking away.

Her heart twisted. She hated this—hated seeing him hurt, hated that she was the reason. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to his, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry, Shua. I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to feel like that. I just… I got scared. But I promise, we’ll tell them soon. When the timing’s better. Okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, his hand tightening on hers. She could feel the conflict in him—the patient, steady Joshua who’d always given her space, warring with the part that just wanted to be seen with her. Finally, he exhaled, pulling her closer until she was tucked against his chest, his arms wrapping around her fully.

“Okay,” he murmured, but there was a weight to it, like he wasn’t sure how many more “okays” he had left. “But I’m holding you to that promise.”

She nodded against him, her pout deepening as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in the familiar warmth of him. “I hate when you’re mad at me,” she mumbled, her voice muffled. “You’re never mad. It’s weird. I don’t like it.”

A soft laugh escaped him, the first crack in his armor. “I’m not mad,” he said, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. “Just… frustrated. I don’t want to share you, even if it’s fake.”

“You’re not sharing me,” she said fiercely, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “I’m yours. Always. Jeonghan’s stupid friend can kick rocks.”

That pulled a real smile from him, small but genuine, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to scare him off.”

She giggled, the tension easing as she snuggled back into him, her arms tightening around his waist. “You? Scary? Please. You’d probably just charm him into leaving politely.”

“Don’t test me,” he teased, his voice lighter now, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.

They lay like that for a while, the dorm silent around them, the earlier fight dissolving into the quiet. Y/N felt her eyes growing heavy, the warmth of his embrace pulling her toward sleep. She hated fighting with him—hated how it made her chest ache, how it reminded her that even Joshua’s patience had limits. But here, curled up with him, she could pretend for a little longer that it was just them, no secrets, no games.

As her breathing slowed, Joshua’s hand stilled in her hair, his voice a soft murmur against her temple. “I love you,” he said, so quiet it was almost lost to the dark.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, already half-asleep, her arms still wrapped around him like she could keep the world out forever.

But in the back of her mind, Jeonghan’s smirk lingered, a reminder that their secret wasn’t as safe as it used to be. And Joshua’s words—“not now”—echoed, a promise she wasn’t sure how much longer she could delay.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The dorm had been a pressure cooker for days, the air thick with unspoken tension. Jeonghan’s restaurant stunt had left a mark, and though Y/N had smoothed things over with Joshua that night, the cracks were still there. She’d promised to tell the members—soon—but “soon” felt like a moving target, and Joshua’s patience was wearing thin. Jeonghan, ever the menace, wasn’t done stirring the pot.

His next scheme came during a rare break in their schedule. The group was lounging in the practice room, sprawled across the floor, debating dinner plans. Y/N was curled up on a bench, scrolling through her phone, while Joshua sat nearby, strumming his guitar absentmindedly. To the members, it was business as usual—until Jeonghan struck.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called, his voice deceptively casual as he leaned against the mirror. “My friend texted me again. You know, the one who’s dying to meet you? He’s free tomorrow night. I told him you’re game for coffee.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. Not again. “Jeonghan, I didn’t—”

“Wait, hold up!” Seungkwan cut in, sitting up from his spot on the floor, eyes wide with glee. “This guy’s still in the picture? Y/N, you didn’t tell us you were actually into it!”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, her voice sharp, but the members were already piling on.

“Come on, give him a chance!” Hoshi chimed in, grinning. “Jeonghan wouldn’t set you up with a dud. Right, Hannie?”

Jeonghan smirked, his gaze flicking to Joshua, who’d stopped strumming, his fingers frozen on the strings. “Oh, he’s a catch,” Jeonghan said smoothly. “I showed him your latest stage pics, Y/N. Man’s smitten. Said you’re exactly his type.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She shot Jeonghan a glare—you’re dead—but the damage was done. Joshua’s jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the guitar like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “Cool,” he muttered, barely audible, but the word carried a chill that Y/N felt across the room.

“Shua, it’s not—” she started, but Mingyu steamrolled over her, oblivious.

“Yo, we need details! What’s this guy do? Is he, like, a CEO? A model?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward. “Y/N’s gotta aim high, you know.”

“He’s just a friend,” Y/N snapped, her voice louder than intended, trying to shut it down. “And I’m not meeting him, so drop it.”

The members groaned, teasing her for “playing hard to get,” but Joshua didn’t say a word. He set the guitar down, stood, and walked out without looking back, the door clicking shut behind him. The room fell quiet for a split second, the others exchanging confused glances.

“What’s up with him?” Vernon asked, scratching his head.

Jeonghan shrugged, his smirk barely hidden. “Guess he’s not feeling it today.”

Y/N’s glare could’ve burned a hole through him. “I need some air,” she muttered, grabbing her jacket and heading for the door, her heart pounding with guilt and frustration.

--------------------------------------------------------------

For the next two days, Joshua was a ghost. He didn’t ignore Y/N outright—that would’ve been too obvious—but he was distant, his warmth replaced by a polite, untouchable wall. In the dorm, he’d answer her questions with clipped “Yeah” or “Fine” his eyes never meeting hers. At practice, he stayed on the opposite side of the room, focusing on choreo with an intensity that shut her out. Y/N felt every dodged glance like a jab, her chest tightening with the weight of it.

She tried to catch him alone, lingering after meals or hovering near his room, but he’d slip away, mumbling about calls or errands. The worst part was how he masked it—still joking with the members, still his usual self to everyone else. Only Y/N saw the cold edge, the hurt he buried under his smile.

Jeonghan noticed, of course. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes followed them, sharp and calculating, waiting for the next crack.

That night, the group decided to hit a nearby diner for a late dinner, craving a break from dorm food. The vibe was off, though—Joshua had been holed up in his room all day, his door shut tight. Seungcheol knocked once, calling, “Shua, you coming?” but got a muffled “Not tonight” in response. The members exchanged looks but didn’t push, sensing his mood.

Y/N was on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, scrolling through her phone but not really seeing it. Hoshi flopped beside her, nudging her arm. “Y/N, come eat with us! You can’t just mope here all night.”

“I’m not moping,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just… not feeling great. You guys go ahead.”

“You sure?” Seungcheol asked, frowning. “We can bring you something back.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, waving them off. “Have fun.”

Jeonghan lingered by the door, his gaze flicking between Y/N and Joshua’s closed room. He didn’t smirk this time—just gave her a small, almost apologetic nod before herding the others out. “Let’s move, people. I’m starving,” he said, his voice light but deliberate, giving Y/N and Joshua the space he knew they needed.

The dorm fell silent, the kind of quiet that pressed against Y/N’s ears. She stayed on the couch, her phone forgotten in her lap, replaying Jeonghan’s stunt and Joshua’s reaction. She hated this—hated how her fear had pushed him away, hated how Jeonghan’s games had made it worse. But bursting into Joshua’s room felt wrong; he needed time to cool off. So she waited, the clock ticking past an hour, then two.

Finally, the door to Joshua’s room creaked open. He stepped out, hoodie pulled up, heading for the kitchen without a word. Y/N’s heart jumped, but he didn’t look her way, his steps deliberate as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Shua,” she said, her voice soft but cutting through the silence. “Can we talk?”

He paused, his back to her, filling the glass with water. “What’s there to talk about?” His tone was flat, colder than she’d ever heard, and it stung like a slap.

“You’re mad at me,” she said, standing but staying by the couch, giving him space. “And I get it. Jeonghan was out of line, and I messed up by playing along again. But I didn’t mean it. You know that.”

He turned then, leaning against the counter, his eyes dark with something raw—hurt, anger, exhaustion. “Do I?” he asked, setting the glass down harder than necessary. “Because it’s the same thing every time, Y/N. You say you’ll tell them, but you don’t. You let them think you’re free to date whoever, and I’m just… what? Supposed to smile and go along with it?”

“I’m trying to protect us!” she said, her voice rising, desperate. “If I’d shut Jeonghan down too hard, they’d start asking why. They’d dig, Shua. You know how they are. I didn’t want them figuring it out like that.”

“Protect us?” He laughed, but it was bitter, empty. “You’re protecting you. I’ve been ready to tell them for years. I’d shout it from the damn rooftop if you’d let me. But you keep saying ‘not now,’ and I’m done hearing it. I’m done watching you pretend I’m nothing to you.”

Her breath caught, tears pricking her eyes. “You’re everything to me,” she said, stepping closer, her voice breaking. “You know that. I’m just scared, okay? Scared it’ll change things with the group, with the fans, with everything we’ve worked for.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything. But I can’t keep doing this—hiding like we’re some dirty secret. I can’t keep watching them try to set you up because you won’t let me be yours out loud.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears spilling now, her hands trembling. “I’m so sorry, Shua. I’ll tell them. I swear, when they get back tonight, I’ll do it. No more waiting.”

He looked at her, his anger softening but not gone, like a fire burned down to embers. “You’ve said that before,” he said quietly, and the weight of it crushed her. He turned, heading back toward his room. “I need space.”

“Joshua, please,” she called, following him, her voice desperate. “Don’t walk away. I mean it this time. I’ll tell them. I’ll—”

He stopped in the doorway, his back still to her, and for a moment, she thought he’d keep going. But then he sighed, his shoulders slumping, and turned to face her. “You really mean it?” he asked, his voice softer now, searching her face.

“Yes,” she said, stepping closer, her hands reaching for his. “I’m done hiding. I want them to know. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

His eyes held hers, conflicted but softening, his love for her winning out over the hurt. He let her take his hand, his thumb brushing her knuckles like a reflex. “Okay,” he said finally, barely above a whisper. “But if you don’t, Y/N… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

She nodded, tears still falling, and before she could overthink it, she leaned up, kissing him softly, an apology and a promise rolled into one. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Joshua hesitated, then deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer. It was slow, intense, all the anger and longing pouring out until they were breathless. When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice low. “I love you too. Always.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the dorm’s silence a cocoon around them. Y/N’s heart raced, but for the first time in days, it felt lighter. They’d tell the members tonight. No more games, no more secrets.

--------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, the members were wrapping up at the diner, their table a mess of empty plates and soju bottles. Seungcheol leaned back, stretching. “We should grab takeout for Shua and Y/N,” he said, flagging down a waiter. “They’re probably starving.”

“Yeah, Joshua’s been off all day,” Wonwoo noted, frowning. “He was locked in his room like he’s plotting a heist or something.”

“Maybe he’s just tired,” DK said, but his tone was uncertain. “Or… I dunno, mad? He’s never this quiet.”

Seungkwan nudged Jeonghan, who’d been unusually subdued, sipping his drink in silence. “You’re quiet too, Hannie. What’s up? You know something?”

Jeonghan’s lips twitched, but he shook his head, his expression carefully neutral. “Me? Nah. Just enjoying the food.” Inside, he felt a twinge of guilt—his scheme had pushed Joshua harder than he’d meant, and Y/N’s glare still burned in his memory. But he kept his mouth shut, letting the moment play out.

They paid, grabbed takeout, and headed back, the walk filled with Hoshi’s loud retelling of a fan meet story. When they reached the dorm, Seungkwan fumbled with the key, juggling the takeout bags. “If Joshua’s still grumpy, I’m eating his share,” he joked, pushing the door open.

The sight inside stopped them dead.

Joshua and Y/N were on the couch, tangled in a kiss that was anything but subtle. Her hands were in his hair, his arms around her waist, and they were so lost in each other they didn’t hear the door. Seungkwan’s takeout bag hit the floor with a thud, sauce packets spilling. Hoshi, mid-giggle, choked on air, his jaw dropping. The others froze, a collective gasp sucking the air out of the room.

Joshua saw them first, his eyes snapping open over Y/N’s shoulder. He pulled back, pushing her gently, his face flaming. “Y/N—”

She kissed him again, oblivious, chasing his lips with a whine. “Shua, why’d you—” He pushed her back a little harder, and she turned, pouting, ready to complain—until her eyes landed on the twelve members staring like they’d seen a ghost.

Her face went beet red, her mouth falling open. “Oh my God,” she squeaked, scrambling to stand, but her foot caught on a cushion, and she nearly faceplanted. Joshua grabbed her arm, steadying her, his own cheeks crimson but his lips twitching like he might laugh.

Hoshi broke the silence, jumping like he’d won the lottery. “OH MY GOSH, YOU TWO ARE KISSING! THIS IS WHY! THIS IS WHY!” He pointed wildly, spinning to the others. “I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP!”

“You knew nothing!” Seungkwan shouted, clutching his chest like he’d been betrayed. “WHY DIDN’T I SEE THIS? WHY?”

“Hold up, hold up!” Mingyu yelled, waving his arms like a referee. “How long has this been going on? Y/N, you were gonna date Jeonghan’s friend yesterday!”

“I was not!” Y/N snapped, mortified, hiding half behind Joshua, who was biting back a grin despite himself. “That was a joke! I’m—ugh, this is so embarrassing!”

Dino’s eyes were saucers. “You were making out in our living room! I’m traumatized! I need therapy!”

“Oh, grow up,” Vernon said, but he was grinning, shaking his head. “Honestly, I’m just mad I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Seungcheol crossed his arms, smirking. “So, what, you two have been sneaking around this whole time? Under our noses?”

Joshua cleared his throat, finally finding his voice, his arm sliding around Y/N’s waist protectively. “Yeah, uh… for a while. Three years, actually.”

“THREE YEARS?” DK screeched, clutching Hoshi for support. “THREE? YEARS? I’VE BEEN LIVING A LIE!”

The room erupted, questions flying like confetti. “How’d you keep it secret?” “When did this start?” “Does this mean you’re, like, together together?”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in Joshua’s shoulder, her voice muffled. “You’re all so loud! I’m dying here!”

Then Woozi’s eyes narrowed, landing on Jeonghan, who was leaning against the wall, smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Wait a minute. Jeonghan, you’re not freaking out. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

The group turned on him like hawks, realization dawning. “OH, YOU KNEW?” Mingyu bellowed, pointing accusingly. “YOU KNEW AND DIDN’T TELL US?”

Jeonghan raised his hands, laughing. “What can I say? I’m Yoon Jeonghan for a reason.” His smug shrug only fueled their outrage, the members shouting over each other.

Y/N snapped out of her embarrassment, pointing at Jeonghan like she was ready to fight. “YOU! THIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU MENACE!” she yelled, stepping forward. “You and your stupid fake-date schemes! You pushed us into this!”

Jeonghan just grinned, strolling over to ruffle her hair, unfazed. “You’re welcome,” he said, winking. “At least now you don’t have to hide.” He turned to Joshua, tapping his shoulder. “Congrats, man. Good luck with this interrogation.”

Joshua laughed, the tension from earlier melting away, his arm tightening around Y/N. “Thanks, I think.”

The members descended into chaos, dragging chairs into a circle like they were starting a tribunal. Seungkwan plopped down, crossing his arms. “Okay, spill! From the beginning! When did you two start sneaking around?”

“And why didn’t you trust us?” Wonwoo added, mock-hurt. “We’re your family!”

Y/N groaned, sinking onto the couch, still red-faced. “It wasn’t about trust! I just… ugh, you guys would’ve teased us to death!”

“And we’re not doing that now?” Hoshi cackled, dodging as she swatted at him.

Joshua, grinning, pulled her closer, his voice warm. “Alright, alright. It started predebut, honestly. We just… clicked. Didn’t want to mess with the group vibe, so we kept it quiet.”

“Quiet?!” DK shouted. “You were sucking face in our dorm! That’s not quiet!”

Y/N squealed, hiding her face in her hands. “I wasn’t sucking face! Oh my God, kill me now!”

“You kinda were,” Joshua teased, laughing when she shoved him. “What? It’s true!”

The members roared, some cheering, others fake-gagging. “Get a room!” Dino yelled, only for Mingyu to smirk and add, “Oh, wait, they already did!”

Y/N grabbed a cushion, hurling it at him. “You’re all the worst!” she shouted, but her smile betrayed her, the relief of being out in the open washing away her embarrassment.

Jeonghan watched it all, his guilt from earlier fading. He’d pushed too far, maybe, but it’d worked out. He caught Joshua’s eye, giving a small nod. Joshua nodded back, a silent we’re good.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Later, when the members finally calmed down, Y/N dragged Joshua to her room, slamming the door to drown out the renewed teasing. “They saw me kissing you like a desperate idiot,” she groaned, glaring at him as he leaned against her desk, laughing. “And you’re just laughing?”

“I mean, yeah,” he said, grinning, stepping closer to pull her into a hug. “You don’t have to hide how clingy you are anymore. It’s kinda cute.”

She pouted, shoving his chest lightly. “I’m not clingy. And I’m still mad at you for laughing. I looked like a tomato out there!”

“My favorite tomato,” he teased, kissing her nose. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad they know. No more sneaking.”

She sighed, melting into him, her arms looping around his neck. “Yeah, okay. But if they keep teasing me, I’m blaming you and Jeonghan.”

“Deal,” he said, tilting her chin up for another kiss, softer this time, the chaos outside forgotten.

Behind the door, Hoshi’s voice rang out, muffled but gleeful. “Yo, they’re probably kissing again!”

“Let’s barge in!” Seungkwan suggested, only for Seungcheol to yell, “Leave them alone, you animals!”

Y/N pulled back, groaning. “We’re never living this down, are we?”

Joshua just laughed, holding her tighter. “Nope. But I wouldn’t trade it.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

The dorm was a battlefield of snacks and banter, Seventeen sprawled across the living room for a rare movie night. Popcorn bowls were precariously balanced, and Seungkwan was already arguing with DK over who got to pick the film. Y/N, though, had zero interest in the debate. She was tucked into Joshua’s side on the couch, her legs draped over his lap, one arm looped around his neck as she played with the collar of his hoodie.

“You look so cute like this,” she murmured, her voice low but shameless, her lips brushing his ear just enough to make him shiver. “Comfy Shua is my favorite Shua.”

Joshua grinned, his hand resting on her knee, thumb tracing lazy circles. “Oh, yeah?” he teased, tilting his head to meet her eyes, his own sparkling with mischief. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’ve got me trapped here.”

“Trapped and loving it,” she shot back, leaning in to peck his cheek, quick and bold, not caring who saw. Her heart fluttered at how easy it was now—no overthinking, no glancing over her shoulder. Just them, out in the open, and she was eating it up.

The members, however, were less enchanted. Mingyu groaned from the floor, tossing a popcorn kernel at them. “Can you two not be so gross for, like, five minutes? I’m trying to enjoy my snack here!”

“Jealousy’s not a good look, Gyu,” Y/N called, sticking out her tongue before snuggling closer to Joshua, who laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her even nearer.

“I’m not jealous,” Mingyu huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m just saying, Joshua used to be our friend before you turned him into your personal teddy bear!”

“He’s still your friend,” Y/N said, grinning wickedly. “Just… my teddy bear first.”

Joshua choked on a laugh, his cheeks pink but clearly loving every second of her boldness. “I’m not complaining,” he said, winking at her, and she giggled, poking his dimple.

Their bubble was interrupted by Hoshi, who bounded into the room with his usual chaotic energy, eyeing the couch like a predator. “Yo, Shua, my man!” he declared, making a beeline for the empty spot next to Joshua. “Scoot over, I’m claiming my bro time!”

Y/N’s head whipped around, her eyes narrowing into a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Oh, no you don’t,” she snapped, planting a hand on Joshua’s shoulder to block Hoshi’s path. “This is my spot, Kwon Soonyoung. Back off.”

Hoshi froze, blinking dramatically. “Your spot? Since when is Joshua’s side your spot?”

“Since I said so,” Y/N retorted, leaning forward, her voice dripping with mock menace. “Find another seat, tiger boy, or we’re throwing hands.”

The room erupted, the members hooting and laughing as Hoshi clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “Tiger boy?! That’s cold, Y/N! I just wanna sit with my buddy!”

“Your buddy’s taken,” she said, smirking, then patted Joshua’s chest for emphasis. “Right, Shua?”

Joshua, barely holding it together, nodded, his grin wide. “She’s kinda got a point, Hosh. This spot’s reserved.”

“Betrayal!” Hoshi wailed, flopping onto the floor next to Vernon, who was snickering. “Fine, keep your clingy girlfriend. I’ll just bond with Vernon’s vibes instead.”

“Good luck with that,” Vernon deadpanned, shoving Hoshi’s head off his shoulder. “Your vibes are chaotic.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at Hoshi, then turned back to Joshua, her smile softening as she leaned up to kiss his jaw, slow and deliberate. “You’re too handsome tonight,” she whispered, loud enough for him to hear but flirty enough to make his ears redden. “How am I supposed to focus on this dumb movie?”

“You’re gonna kill me,” he murmured back, his voice low and warm, his hand sliding to her lower back, fingers grazing just under her hoodie. “But I’m not mad about it.”

Seungkwan gagged dramatically from across the room. “Okay, enough! You’re making my popcorn taste like regret! Can we watch the movie or what?”

“You’re just mad ‘cause Shua’s getting more action than you,” Y/N teased, dodging a cushion Seungkwan lobbed her way.“Rude!” Seungkwan shouted, but he was laughing, the others piling on with their own jabs.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The next week, during a magazine photoshoot, Y/N’s clinginess hit new heights. The set was buzzing—lights, cameras, staff darting around as Seventeen posed in sleek, coordinated outfits. Joshua stood under a spotlight, adjusting his jacket, his hair styled just messy enough to look effortlessly perfect. Y/N, waiting for her turn, couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Shua,” she called, sidling up as the photographer adjusted settings. “You’re out here looking way too good. Like, rude levels of handsome. How’s a girl supposed to cope?”

He turned, his smile slow and flirty, leaning closer so only she could hear. “You’re one to talk,” he said, eyeing her outfit—fitted blazer, skirt hugging her just right. “I’m barely surviving over here.”

She giggled, bold as ever now, and stretched up on her toes to kiss him, quick but soft, right there on set. “That’s for being too cute,” she said, winking as she pulled back.

A stylist nearby froze, clearly unsure whether to pretend she hadn’t seen, but Joshua just laughed, his hand brushing hers before she stepped away. “You’re trouble,” he called after her, but his eyes said he loved every second of it.

Hoshi, who’d been posing nearby, caught the whole thing and groaned. “Y/N, can you not steal Joshua for two seconds? I need him for my concept!”

“Your concept’s fine without him,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue. “Go flirt with a camera or something.”

“I’m wounded!” Hoshi gasped, clutching his heart, but he was grinning, already plotting revenge. “Just wait, I’m stealing his seat at lunch.”

“Try it and you’re sitting on the floor,” Y/N warned, her glare playful but fierce, making the others nearby crack up.

--------------------------------------------------------------

By the weekend, the members were staging a full-on revolt. At the dorm, Joshua was trying to teach Dino a new guitar chord in the living room, but Y/N had other plans. She plopped onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, effectively halting the lesson. “Hi,” she said, all sugar and spice, kissing his cheek. “You’re too cute when you’re focused. Had to interrupt.”

Dino threw his hands up, exasperated. “Y/N, I’m trying to learn here! Can you not hog him for, like, one hour?”

“Nope,” she said, grinning, snuggling deeper into Joshua’s lap, who was laughing too hard to help. “He’s mine now. Get your own Shua.”

“There’s only one, unfortunately,” Joshua teased, his arms sliding around her waist, clearly thrilled by her boldness. “And I’m pretty happy where I am.”

“Gross,” Dino muttered, tossing a pillow at them, which Y/N caught and hugged like a trophy.

The door swung open, and Seungcheol walked in, freezing at the sight. “Oh, come on,” he groaned, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, let the man breathe! We need Joshua for game night, and you’re, like, glued to him!”

“He’s breathing just fine,” Y/N said, smirking, then leaned up to kiss Joshua’s nose, slow and dramatic, just to mess with them. “Right, babe?”

“Better than ever,” Joshua agreed, his grin wide, planting a quick kiss on her temple for good measure.

Seungcheol fake-gagged, turning to the others piling in behind him. “Someone get her off him! I’m calling an intervention!”

Hoshi saw his chance, diving for the couch with a war cry. “Operation Save Joshua begins now!” He grabbed Y/N’s arm, tugging like he was pulling her from quicksand. “Come on, let’s free our bro!”

Y/N yelped, clinging to Joshua like a koala. “Get your paws off, Soonyoung! This is my spot!”

“Your spot’s gonna be the hallway if you don’t share!” Hoshi shot back, laughing as he tugged harder, turning it into a full-on wrestling match.

Joshua was no help, doubled over laughing as Y/N and Hoshi bickered, her arms locked around his neck. “You two are ridiculous,” he managed, but his eyes were soft, drinking in Y/N’s playful grin. He’d waited years for this—her unfiltered affection, no walls, no secrets—and every second felt like a gift.

Woozi, watching from the sidelines, shook his head. “I give up. They’re unstoppable. Someone get me noise-canceling headphones.”

“Or a barf bag,” Seungkwan added, dodging as Y/N flung a cushion at him.

Jeonghan strolled in last, smirking at the chaos he’d indirectly unleashed. “Look at you lovebirds, making everyone sick,” he teased, winking at Y/N. “Worth it, though, right?”

Y/N paused her tug-of-war with Hoshi, her smile softening as she looked at Joshua, who squeezed her hand, his eyes saying everything. “Yeah,” she said, voice quieter but bright. “Totally worth it.”

Then she turned, glaring at Hoshi, who was still trying to wedge between them. “But you’re still not stealing my spot, hamster!”

“Challenge accepted!” Hoshi roared, diving back in, and the room dissolved into laughter, Joshua pulling Y/N closer through it all, happier than he’d ever been.

--------------------------------------------------------------

an: Joshua is sososo handsome, and I hate it! I can’t even look at his pictures for too long, because I feel like I’m going to melt.

[smallestapplin]

Hello!! I hope you’re doing well!!!

I saw that you wrote for a reader x Decepticon harem and I think I had an interesting idea!

So we all know that TFP! Megs gets a little Eugh when he’s on that purple space crack, so who do you think would be the best for Reader to go hang out with when they want to avoid Zooted Megatron? Cause we all know it’s unnerving to be around someone when they’re unpredictable, so it’s natural that Reader would want to go “hide” with someone to stay out if possible conflict!

Thank you so much and have a great day!!!

Oohh good question. I think, in order in the transformers prime universe, it would be

Soundwave.

Breakdown.

Knockout.

-

Soundwave is number one as no one truly bothers him, and Megatron doesn't ask much of him. You can hide in his Chassis while he works.

In truth it's where you're safest, and Megatron won't see you in his dark energon state. Soundwave doesn't speak, but his slow and gentle actions so he cares, he doesn't want you hurt.

It's like being hidden in plain sight, and anyone who noticed dares not say a thing in fear of Soundwave, or Megatron possibly finding you.

-

I placed Breakdown above Knockout for one reason.

He's not caught up in shenanigans like Knockout is.

Breakdown is very sweet on you, you can hide in his large Chassis by his spark, or vibe in his habsuite. Besides Breakdown does get bored doing more mundane things he has to do, having you to keep him company is nice.

He'll usually have you on his shoulder, only rushing to hide you when he hears pedesteps.

-

Knockout is at the bottom of this list, but he's still a very safe option as he he's the entire medbay to himself most of the time, so you basically get to pick where you want to hide.

Besides he likes to pamper you, clean you, dress you up, make you look all cute.

He'd hate for his hard work to be ruined, so he keeps you hidden away and safe from a raging Megatron.

Not to mention he leaves the ship pretty often, even if it's to just street race. If you asked him if you could tag along, maybe get some fast food, stretch your legs, he'd be more than happy to.

Probably even call it date night.

-

What all three have in common is they would lie to Megatron's face about your whereabouts.

You are the decepticons darling, of course even in his feral state Megatron wants you, however his mood flip on a dime and he's not above throwing things.

You're squishy, at best you'd only get hurt, more realistically you'd be killed in the wake of his rampage.

-

Also, I know he joins the cons long after Megatron is freed from dark energon, but Dreadwing would also be a good choice.

You have his word, you'll never be hurt so long as he's there. He thinks you're odd in a cute way, and likes it when you pick him.

His wings will twitch behind him, happy.

Another Chassis to hide in, another one that's very spacious for you. And to feel your warmth next to his spark has him weak.

He will not cave, he will not break, you are his top priority here.

[reality-detective]

Look up the occult practice of inversion...

Do you see it? 🤔

[lowkeycasanova]

could I please request a Luffy x fem reader, they’re not together yet but Luffy gets jealous when the reader is around Sanji, Ace, and Law. thank you!

jealous much?

The sun is warm, the sea breeze light, and your outfit—apparently— is perfect.

Sanji notices first. His eyes go wide

His eyes sweep over you, all admiration, all poetry. “Ah,” he sighs, hand over his heart, “You're absolutely stunning.”

You laugh, light, brushing him off. “Sanji—”

But he isn’t done. “The colors! The way it fits!” He's so excited, like your existence alone is a masterpiece.

Luffy scowls. Doesn’t know why, just knows he does.

He tugs at the brim of his hat, frowning harder, watching you smile, watching Sanji soak it in.

So he does what he always does. Grabs your hand, steals you away, ignores Sanji’s protests like they’re just background noise.

------

The sun hangs heavy, gold and merciless. Alabasta’s heat wraps around you, thick as the sand beneath your feet.

He stands against the desert heat like he was made for it.

The sun kisses his skin, bronzed, freckled, golden in a way that makes the light seem jealous.

Dark hair, unruly, half-hidden beneath the tilted brim of his hat, and his eyes like a wildfire being kept just barely in check

He laughs, easy, flings an arm around your shoulders,

“You sure you’re keepin’ up?” he teases, grinning down at you. “Dunno how you survive with this idiot leading the way.”

You laugh, nudging his ribs. He chuckles, squeezes your shoulder. Brotherly- maybe.

Luffy frowns. Stares. then before you even register movement, he's there

Between you and Ace, somehow. Like the thought barely formed before his body followed.

“She’s fine,” he says. Like it’s obvious. Like there was never a question.

Ace blinks, then smirks. “Relax, Luffy. She’s not gonna melt.”

Luffy doesn’t respond. Doesn’t joke. Just grabs your wrist, tugs you forward, like that’s where you were always meant to be.

Ace whistles low, watching. Grinning. Luffy ignores it.

-----

The cold bites, punk hazard is chaos snow crunching underfoot, but you don’t seem to notice.

not with the way you stand beside Law, head tilted, eyes focused, listening.

he speaks low, words measured, precise, tattooed fingers tracing something in the air— something he’s explaining, something just for you.

there was something comfortable about being with him, despite meeting him for the first time

across the snowy plain, there luffy stood with his arms loosely crossed over his chest brow twitching ever so slightly he caught sight of the two of you little too close for his liking

what's he saying to her? he wondered

you looked up at Law, nodding. Then— a soft chuckle.

but to luffy, it echoed. A laugh that rang in the air like a bell.

too clear. too loud. too meant for someone else.

He didn’t understand why.

Law was an ally. A bit weird, too serious, but trustworthy enough.

Still— seeing him there, making you laugh, hogging your attention

Then, just like always, he acts.

Calls your name. Too loud.

You turned, surprised— and before Law could say another word, Luffy was there.

Grinning wide, like it was all no big deal. He threw an arm around your shoulders with a careless confidence, a casual ease as if claiming his spot.

like he owned the space between you two

[uns4lted]

ꜱᴏ ʜɪɢʜ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡ/ ɪꜱᴀɢɪ ʏᴏɪᴄʜɪ, ʜɪᴏʀɪ ʏᴏ, & ᴋᴜʀᴏɴᴀ ʀᴀɴᴢᴇ

characters: blue lock pairings: isagi yoichi x gn! reader, hiori yo x gn! reader, kurona x gn! reader genre: fluff a/n: i knew i had to make a drabble out of these three cause i swear they are so underrated and they deserve some love! this drabble is inspired by taylor swift's so high school <3

drabble series: So High School pt. 2 , So High School pt. 3

── .✦ isagi yoichi

You spot Isagi in the hallway before he sees you—he always does this thing where he runs a hand through his hair as he laughs with his friends. You don’t even realize you’re staring until your heart skips a beat, and suddenly, you’re pulling your gaze away. It’s like clockwork, how you want to find him in the crowd just so you can disappear the moment his eyes might meet yours.

There he is, talking about practice, the next big game, his goals—always something about soccer. You know you should focus on your own life, your own worries, but whenever Isagi’s around, it’s like the noise fades, leaving just him. And it’s not like you want to talk to him, not exactly. It’s safer like this, hiding in plain sight, watching him from a distance where your feelings can’t betray you.

As you walk down the hall, you sneak one last glance over your shoulder. Isagi’s still talking, laughing, completely unaware of the effect he has on you. And honestly? Just seeing him like this—handsome, confident, and so captivating—makes your heart race every time, even if he doesn’t notice. Maybe one day, you’ll be brave enough to let him.

── .✦ hiori yo

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of Hiori’s living room, a controller in your hands, trying to keep up with the chaos on the screen. Isagi and Nanase are completely absorbed in the game, their voices rising as they shout strategies at each other in a heated multiplayer match. But you? You can barely focus.

Hiori is sitting next to you on the couch, closer than necessary, his knee brushing against yours every time he shifts. The room feels warmer than it should, the weight of his presence making it impossible to concentrate.

“Hey, try this,” Hiori says, leaning in to show you something on the controller. His hand covers yours for just a moment, fingers brushing your skin, and you freeze.

Your heart does a little flip as his hand lingers for a second longer than it should. You glance up at him, but he’s still focused on the game, his face calm and casual, as if he didn’t just light a fire under your skin with that small touch.

Isagi is yelling something about strategy, Nanase is laughing, and all you can think about is the way Hiori’s fingers graze yours again. This time, it’s intentional—his pinky hooks around yours as if testing the waters. You try to stay cool, your heart racing, praying that neither Isagi nor Nanase notices what’s happening right beside them.

But they’re too busy with the game, and you’re too distracted to care. The world outside the screen fades as Hiori’s hand subtly, slowly, finds yours. It’s like the smallest secret between the two of you, hidden in plain sight, while his friends remain clueless.

It’s just a game, you remind yourself. But somehow, Hiori’s touch makes it feel like so much more.

── .✦ kurona ranze

The night was quiet, just the two of you sitting close under the twinkling lights of the park. There wasn’t much conversation, but that was how it always was with Kurona. He didn’t need to fill the silence with words; he just had a way of making you feel like you belonged, even without saying much.

Your fingers brushed against his on the bench, a familiar connection that neither of you questioned anymore. It was always this subtle with him—little touches, shy glances. He wasn’t loud about his feelings, but they were there, humming softly between you both.

“Kurona,” you broke the stillness, your voice soft. “Tell me about the first time you saw me.”

His head turned slightly, his eyes widening just a bit, like he hadn’t expected you to ask that. He was quiet, as usual, but you could see the faint color rising in his cheeks, the way his gaze darted away for a second. He always got like this when it came to feelings—unsure, but not because he didn’t know what he felt. Just because he wasn’t used to speaking them out loud.

He hesitated for a moment, fingers twitching beside yours before he gathered the courage to entwine them fully. “The first time?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was steady, even though you could see the blush deepening. “I… I noticed you right away.”

Kurona looked down, trying to find the right words. “You were with your friends, laughing about something. I remember thinking… I wanted to hear you laugh again. To see you smile more.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a nervous gesture. “But I didn’t know how to approach you. You always seemed so… out of reach.”

You smiled softly, feeling your own heart speed up at his confession. “And now?”

His eyes met yours again, and though his cheeks were still flushed, there was a calm sincerity in his gaze. “Now? I… don’t feel like that anymore.” He paused, then added, voice softer, “Now, I don’t want to imagine a day without you in it.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his shy but genuine affection. Kurona might not always have the words, but in moments like this, he didn’t need them. You could feel everything he wasn’t saying.

will be making another so high school pt. 2 w/ chigiri, nagi, & bachira! likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[tooclevertobehappy]

Hidden in plain sight Part.3

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of injury, child abuse, lots of guilt

Mapi and Ingrid are led by the officer down the hospital corridor toward one of the conference rooms. They tightly hold each other’s hands, exchanging nervous glances as they walk. Mapi takes a few seconds to press a lingering kiss on Ingrid’s forehead, letting her know they are in this together. The angst that had settled in Ingrid’s stomach grows the further they go. She wishes she could have seen Clara before being dragged away, but now she and Mapi are told to sit and wait for someone to come talk to them.

They’ve been sitting for less than ten minutes when Alexia enters, being led in by the same officer. It’s clear from the confusion on her face that she doesn’t understand why they aren’t allowed to see Clara either.

The three of them sit in silence. Ingrid’s leg bounces incessantly, her nerves growing, until Mapi gently places her hand on her leg, slowly caressing it with her thumb in an attempt to calm her down. All the while, Mapi keeps an eye on the captain, who looks like she’s about to storm out and demand to see Clara. The way Alexia’s knuckles turn white from gripping the chair’s armrests is a clear indication of her mounting frustration.

A woman finally walks in, file in hand, followed by a doctor and the same police officer. They sit down with the group, briefly talking among themselves. All three players’ eyes are drawn to the woman’s badge, which shines under the overhead lamp. It reads: “Mrs. Armon Child Protective Services.”

Ingrid’s hand joins Mapi’s on her leg, holding on so tightly that Mapi wonders if she might bruise from the hold. They exchange glances. What had been a weird, concerning situation before has now escalated into something far worse.

Finally, the agent clears her throat, opens the file she’s holding, and begins to speak.

“Hi, thank you for waiting. We just had a few questions about Miss Arellano’s home life,” she says calmly, before being interrupted by Alexia.

“What do you mean, her home life? Why aren’t we allowed to see her?” Alexia demands, her voice rising with frustration.

The agent sighs before picking up a piece of paper from her file. “Miss Arellano was brought to this hospital following injuries sustained during training today at the Barcelona team stadium, is that correct?” she asks, waiting for them to confirm.

“She was unconscious when she was brought in. Our nurses changed her from her training attire into one of our hospital gowns to better assess her injuries. During the examination, they found unexpected contusions on her body—ones that don’t match up with the injuries she would have sustained during the accident or any other training,” the agent continues.

The doctor, who had remained silent until then, raised a hand, his gaze turning serious.

“Miss Arellano, presented with a head laceration and head contusion that we know was caused today during training.” He says.

The three players nod their head at this, they’d all been there and seen the accident themselves after all.

”We however found evidence of bruises on her ribs and back.” He adds looking at them one after the other, seemingly studying their reactions.

Ingrid’s hand leaves Mapi’s and comes up to cover her mouth as tears started to form in her eyes while Alexia’s sharp intake of breath can be heard throughout the room.

“Adding to this, scans confirmed she has three fractured ribs and small cuts on the base of her neck, small crescent moons that suggest she’s been forcefully held by someone.” He ends with, closing the small file he’d opened when he started listing the seemingly endless list of injuries.

Tears now fall freely from Ingrid’s eyes over her hand still covering her mouth, Mapi’s arm is now laying over Ingrid’s shoulders, holding her closer to her as she holds her own leg tightly to hide the way her hand shakes.

Miss Armon gives them a brief moment, to allow the information to sink in before adding “We are suspecting that this isn’t the first time something like this happened, counting the report made today by the hospital, Miss Arellano is the subject of three previous reports.”

“Reports?” Mapi asks, her voice shaky with the first hints of fear.

“Reports of suspected child abuse,” the agent clarifies. “Two came from her school, and one from a former coach. All three reports describe unusual bruises, which Miss Arellano tries to justify as clumsiness or falling, Miss Arellano it seems has been getting abused and covering it up for weeks, if not months, trying to make those injuries look accidental but the medical assessment is clear, she’s being abused.”

The room is still. No one speaks. The weight of the agent’s words presses on them, suffocating. Mapi watches as Ingrid’s hands tremble. Alexia stares at the floor, her breath shallow. Time stretches between them. They can’t undo this.

Alexia who had sat still for most of the conversation seems to deflate at this, she’d hoped that maybe this had been “it only happened once” situation, but there was no denying the truth, Clara had been suffering for months, hiding it from them, and she’d been absolutely clueless, her, the captain of the team, she had not seen it.

She can’t help but think that she’s failed at her job, and the weight of the realization seems to pull her down and she slowly bends over herself, one hand coming to grip her own hair the other one resting on her face as she tries to slow her breathing down.

Ingrid is left reeling by the sudden onslaught of information. It feels like her chest is tightening with every passing second, tears are clouding her vision, she tries to breathe normally, but she can’t help the hitches that come with every breath she takes. She had suspected something was wrong the day before, but hearing her worst fears confirmed in a matter of minutes sends her spiraling.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Miss Armon says, her voice softer now. “But Clara’s safety is our top priority. We can start to make a difference now that we know the truth.”

The agent looks at the three women. “Now, we must ask if you’ve noticed anything that might shed light on this matter—anything Clara may have said or done, or anything unusual you’ve noticed about her home life?”

Mapi tightens her grip on Ingrid’s hand as she looks at Alexia, who is visibly devastated, she’d seen the Captain face hard situations before, always standing strong to help anyone on their team, but now she looks small curled in on herself as if it could protect her from the brutality of the information she’d been given.

She gently nudges Ingrid, silently inviting her to speak about what the two of them had discussed the day before.

“She was supposed to come to our house for dinner yesterday” says Ingrid, “She didn’t show up so I.. “she chokes up on her words, tears strangling her “So I went to her house, her dad answered the door, but he said she wasn’t there!” she adds the volume of her voice raising, her tone almost pleading with them.

Mapi’s now slowly but firmly caressing her back trying to ground her but also to remind her that she’s here by her side.

“I should have known! He smelled like liquor and the house was a mess! But he said she wasn’t there and I left.” Her eyes that were still filled with tears suddenly widened. “Oh my god.” her hand came back to cover her mouth. “I left! I left her there! With him!” Ingrid had tried to hold her sobs back till this exact moment when she realized that she’d left Clara with her abuser completely unchecked. She had seen the signs, the clues, heard the warning bells go off in her mind and yet. She’d left her there.

Ingrid’s breaths come in shallow gasps, as the weight of her realization crushes her, she can’t believe it.

Mapi’s chest tightens at the thought of Clara, alone in that house with him. The guilt in Ingrid’s eyes is almost too much for her to bear, and she feels a helpless knot in her stomach. What if this had been prevented? What if she could’ve seen the signs too?

“No no no no Amor, don’t do this to yourself” Mapi quickly grabs Ingrid’s face in her hands, trying to look into her eyes as she wipes her tears with her thumbs resting on her cheeks.

She pulls her in a tight embrace, holding her tightly, wishing she could protect her from the crushing guilt threatening to swallow here whole. “You couldn’t have known” she whispers, voice soft but firm.

Ingrid wants to believe her, she really does, but she can’t help but wonder how different the situation would be if she’d just paid attention to Clara, if she didn’t let her slip away, if only she'd intervened earlier, maybe all of this could have been avoided.

Mapi feels inadequate, she wants to reassure Ingrid and she can’t help but worry for Alexia that still hasn’t moved from the position she’s been in since the doctor listed all of Clara’s injuries, she wants to help both of them but can’t help but focus on her girlfriend, her caring and oh so sensitive girlfriend who seems to break down even more as the second pass, she can feel her body tensing and yet crumpling at the same time right underneath her fingertips.

She tries to pull her up and away from the guilt pit she seems to be falling into but she’s only mildly successful.

As Ingrid’s sobs slowly subside, Mapi still feels a tight knot in her chest, a growing worry that this moment, this pain, might not be something they can fix with words alone.

Miss Armon allowed them a few minutes to settle themselves before she spoke.

“By your own words, Mister Arellano was intoxicated when you came to check on Clara, is that correct?” she confirms, taking notes as she goes

Ingrid nods, her hand fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“Is there any other thing any of you can remember that could add to this?” she asks.

Alexia who had remained silent till now spoke up.

“She ran into me on the way to the field, I grabbed her so she wouldn’t fall and… she just looked in pain and I asked what was going on, but she said she was just tired, and we were almost running late.” She looks smaller than she ever has, guilt seems to be pulling her down more and more as she speaks. “I didn’t push her.” she says softly, her head still bowed down.

She takes a few slows breaths before looking up at the couple sitting next to her.

“I just don’t understand how we’ve all missed this. How I’ve missed it.” she says her voice shaky as she holds back her tears

The agent shakes her head.

“Abused children tend to hide their troubles very well” she tells them “The important thing is that we know. Now we can do something about it.”

They all sit in silence for a few seconds before the doctor clears his throat and breaks the silence, his voice professional but sympathetic.

“Miss Arellano has not woken up yet, but when she does we will assess the extent of her injuries to plan her recovery.” he says “When she’s ready we’ll conduct an interview to understand what’s happened. But right now we need to give her time, it’s likely she’s been hiding this for quite a while and we don’t know how she’ll react once the truth comes to light.”

“Would we be allowed to see her?” asks Mapi, she doesn’t allow herself to hope, no matter how desperate she is to check on Clara, she doesn’t want to give anyone false hopes if they are denied access to her.

The doctor looks at Miss Armon, who nods slightly, prompting the doctor grab his file and stand up “Yes, we had to ask those questions first, but if you wish to see her, I’ll take you to her room, however be aware that she’s still unconscious and that we don’t know when she’ll wake up, could be in an hour or tomorrow, okay?”

The three of them nod, shaking hands with Miss Armon and the police officer on auto-pilot before following the doctor out of the conference room and down corridors as they slowly walked closer to their young friend.

As they walked down the sterile corridors Mapi didn’t react as Ingrid grabbed her hand, she’d expected it, but to her surprise Alexia’s hand reached out, grabbing her free one tightly as though she needed to anchor herself too.

She’d raised her head looking at her, but Alexia refused to look at her, looking ahead the whole time her eyes fixed on the back of the doctor’s white coat.

So the three of them walked hand in hand, ignoring the looks thrown their way by patients, doctors and nurses alike that recognized them.

It felt like they’d walked for hours but could have only been minutes when the doctor finally stopped in front of a room, gently sliding the door open and stepping in.

Ingrid can’t help the gasp that comes out of her mouth as she sees Clara laying in the hospital bed, half her face covered in bandages and what wasn’t could only be discribed as a mix of purple and blue.

Alexia didn’t make a sound, but it was clear in the way her jaw tightened that she wasn’t left unaffected by the sight before her.

And Mapi? Well Mapi was trying to help everyone at once, she had to make sure Ingrid didn’t break down, that Alexia wouldn’t retreat behind her walls and try to deal with everything at once, she had to make sure Clara was okay and somehow also take care of herself as well.

Last night she wondered how they could help Clara.

Today she wasn’t sure any of them would be left standing to do just that.

[eggedbellies]

imagine theres a slime monster living in your walls, you only noticed it bcuz sometimes it stays in one spot too long and you need to repaint ceiling due to water damage. you dont really mind, it doesnt leave the wall wet so there's no mold, and you dont have ppl come over often, the ones that do dont question why you have new stains on the ceiling every month.

obviously it likes warm places so its easy to placate during the winter you moved in since you're also cold, so turning the heat up keeps it happy and hiding.

but then the summer comes and it gets too cold from the ac, it finds the bathroom is much warmer when you're taking a shower. slowly with every shower you take it gets more comfortable being in plain sight, moving from in the wall, to the cabinet, to laying the floor, pressed against the outside of the tub. you never notice bcuz of your opaque shower curtain and it always hides when you get out, lingering nearby until the heat and steam finally fade. going back to the attic or the side of the house the sun hits thats only barely warm enough.

then one day you decide to have a self care day and take a bath, you have your laptop set up to watch movies and maybe a little wine to sip on. your slimey house mate coming to hang out but staying hidden since the curtain isn't pulled.

the lights are dim tho so it decides to test how close it can get to the tub without being seen. apparently pretty damn close bcuz you don't notice him until hes perched on the edge of the tub. you're shocked for a moment but don't really care, maybe he's dried out you do keep it kind of cold, you'll turn the ac down a bit when you get out and maybe leave him somewhere to stay warm.

after a couple more movies you decide to get out, not noticing that the slime moved hours ago, and start to drain the tub. you feel something frantically grip your thighs and try to get up but slip a little further in the tub causing it to press again your hole to start away from the drain.

you realize it's probably the slime afraid to go down the drain and reach forward to plug it back up, but having found an escape and being forced even closer it presses into you. you let out a startled moan and try to scramble out, but once you've got your legs out of the water and try to grab the slime, it slips thru your fingers.

and now its found a much warmer place to hide from the cold air, it slithers into you further, you collapse to your knees, and further, your sure itll never come out, and still goes further.

you finish out the summer with your housemate living in you, its normal to you now, it doesnt bother you at all just like living in the house it mostly keeps to itself. your tummy is a little bloated which is fine by you. you always enjoyed having a little fat on you so you arent going to complain about looking a little bigger.

winter comes and the heat is on and you're hiding under a heated blanket and a heating pad for good measure, your so damn cold blooded but all the ways to get comfy in the winter make it better. soft bkankets and warm fires. and one day you notice theres a bit of shifting in you. you dont pay attention to it until it starts moving downward and think about your housemate that moved into you all those months ago. it moves further down until its just barely sticking out of you and hangs out there.

outside you may be warmer now but its enjoying how wet the inside of your body is. but fuck you wish it would move. you feel so full with him just. casually hanging out in you.

i've been hoarding this post for so long and now everyone gets to see it

[bettelaboure]

⊹The Brushstroke of Desire ⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader ⊹ Warnings: explicit sexual themes, sensuality, intimate situations, and emotional vulnerability ⊹ Word count: 2 k ⊹ Authors note: usually I prefer smut myself, but dear God, how I giggled like a little girl writing this...

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The first time you noticed him, Seung-Hyun was an island amidst the buzz of the gallery’s opening. While the guests swirled in clusters, exchanging pleasantries and hushed critiques over champagne flutes, he remained apart, alone. His presence was subtle but undeniable. A man who seemed to move through the world as if it bent to his will. A man who had no need to hurry, yet, here he was, pausing in front of your painting with a quiet reverence that made your breath catch. His hands were tucked into the pockets of a perfectly tailored suit, a suit that whispered of wealth, of power, yet there was nothing about him that seemed conceited. No, it was as if his calm, unhurried attention to your work held a deeper meaning—an unspoken invitation to witness something intimate, something only the two of you could share.

The brushstrokes of your piece were a map of your soul. The color choices, deliberate. The shapes, reflections of your inner chaos and quietude. When his gaze finally shifted toward you, it was not the casual glance of a viewer. His eyes were sharp, tracing the arc of your expression, as if reading between the lines of your existence, searching for a truth hidden in plain sight. In that moment, you felt a delicate dance of exhilaration and vulnerability flutter in your chest. Was it possible? Could he—this stranger who was no stranger at all—see what you had poured into the canvas? The raw, unspoken parts of yourself you had laid bare for the world?

There was no small talk. No hollow pleasantries. Just a single question that made your pulse race. “Tell me about this one.” His voice, smooth and deep, lingered in the space between you.

The words spilled from your lips with a kind of honesty you didn’t know you were capable of. You spoke of the emotions that had driven you to paint, the restlessness that had gnawed at you, the nights you had spent lost in a haze of color and shadow. You spoke, but it felt as if he wasn’t listening for the facts, but for the unspoken weight of your experience. And all the while, his gaze remained fixed on you—intense, unwavering, as though he could see inside you, past the surface. As though he was savoring every word you uttered.

It was as if time itself had paused, drawn into the magnetic pull of his attention. When he spoke again, it was with the slow certainty of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. "Dinner?" The invitation was simple, yet his eyes held something more—a promise. One you were unable—or unwilling—to deny.

The restaurant was a hidden gem, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The atmosphere was soft, intimate, as if the world outside had been temporarily forgotten. Candlelight flickered against the polished wood, casting shadows that danced along his features, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. He was a man sculpted by grace, by power, by something deeper that you couldn’t quite place. The faint scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a cloak, soothing and heady all at once.

Each brush of his fingertips against your knuckles was an unspoken question, a quiet exploration. There was nothing accidental about his touch—every movement deliberate, calculated, designed to unravel you piece by piece. His hand rested lightly on your thigh, a soft pressure that sent heat spiraling up your spine. Your breath caught, the touch innocent, yet charged with an energy that sent your thoughts scattering.

The conversation flowed, weaving between art, life, and the things left unsaid. Seung-Hyun spoke with a depth that made you lean closer, drawn not only to his words but to the way they were delivered—with purpose, with intention. His eyes, always steady, seemed to see more than you were willing to show. There was a slowness to his every gesture, as if he savored the moment before he moved on to the next. Each sip of wine, each lean toward you as you spoke—it was as if he was tasting you, savoring the very essence of your being.

“How did you start painting?” he asked, his voice low and hushed, as though it were a secret shared between you and him alone. His gaze never wavered from your face, studying the way your lips moved, the subtle change in your expression.

You hesitated only for a moment before speaking, the words tumbling out, soft and confessional. “It wasn’t a choice. Not really. I think I’ve always needed to paint. It was my escape when I was younger—a way to channel everything I couldn’t express. But over time… it became more than that. It became the lens through which I see the world.”

He nodded, his expression softening with understanding. “Art,” he said thoughtfully, “is one of the few things that can capture both the chaos and the calm of life. It holds everything—the contradictions we don’t want to face, the truths we don’t want to see.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his insight. There was a quiet intensity in the way he spoke, as though he understood the very marrow of your soul. “You speak as if you’ve felt it,” you remarked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I have.” He leaned back, studying you as though he were memorizing the way your face lit up when you spoke of your passion. “Art is the one thing in this world that remains untouched by power or wealth. It demands honesty. And it’s not just beauty that I seek—I collect art because it forces something real from me. It opens a door to truth that nothing else can.”

The silence between you thickened, pregnant with a tension neither of you acknowledged yet both could feel. Then, after a beat that stretched between you like a taut wire, he added, “And you—your presence, your passion—it’s like you’re a piece of art yourself.”

You felt the words as if they were a physical touch, something that shifted the air around you. A compliment, yes, but something far more intense. Your chest tightened, heat creeping into your cheeks.

“You mean that?” Your voice trembled with the question, the sudden vulnerability of being seen so completely, so intimately, leaving you breathless.

His lips curved into the faintest smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but there was something deeper there, something that told you that he had already seen more of you than anyone else ever had. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

By the time the night was over, you weren’t sure if you had eaten anything at all. The taste of his voice, the weight of his gaze, and the subtle brush of his fingers against your skin had rendered everything else distant, irrelevant. When he drove you home, the silence in the car was heavy, charged with an unspoken understanding, a quiet storm brewing between you.

You barely had time to breathe before realizing your phone—your lifeline to the outside world—was left in the passenger seat. You had resigned yourself to retrieving it the next day, but Seung-Hyun was not a man who left things unfinished. The next morning, a soft knock echoed at your door, and when you opened it, there he stood, phone in hand, his presence commanding the space.

But something else—something more—was in the air now.

As you stood there, a whisper of sound broke the silence. Your voice. Soft, needy, breathless.

Seung-Hyun froze, his breath hitching at the sound. His pulse quickened as he stood just beyond the threshold, rooted in place, a witness to the private moment unfolding before him.

He could have walked away. He should have. But the pull, the magnetic force between you, kept him there. Instinct moved him, and he turned the knob, stepping into the space you had unwittingly made for him.

The sight of you, sprawled on the bed, fingers grazing over your own skin, lost in a moment of desire you hadn’t known he would witness, was enough to make his chest tighten. His pulse thudded louder in his ears, a rush of heat flooding his veins.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stop. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Your eyes locked, and in them, he saw everything—the vulnerability, the longing, the rawness of the moment. It was an invitation, and he accepted it without hesitation.

With deliberate slowness, he closed the door behind him. His voice, barely a whisper, was thick with something you both felt but refused to name. “Were you thinking of me?”

The confession was already there, written in the flush of your cheeks, the rise and fall of your breath. Your body answered before your lips could. The weight of his gaze held you in place as he crossed the room, each step deliberate, measured. He traced the curve of your jaw with a fingertip, and the touch was gentle, reverent, as if he was learning you with each caress.

When he kissed you, it was slow—an unhurried exploration, as if he was savoring the taste of you, imprinting it on his memory. Every second stretched between you, thick with the promise of more. His hands moved with the precision of an artist, memorizing the way your body reacted to his touch. The way you gasped when his lips brushed your inner thighs, the tremor that followed every slow, deliberate caress.

And when he finally took you, it was not rushed. It was deliberate, the way he studied every inch of you, the way he held you as though you were something fragile, something precious. Each movement was a stroke on a canvas of skin, each whisper of his name from your lips a note in a song only the two of you could hear.

When the world outside had faded, and you lay tangled in his arms, the soft light of dawn spilling through the curtains, you felt an unfamiliar sense of belonging. Not just to him—but to the moment. To the quiet certainty that this—whatever this was—had changed you both, irrevocably.

And in the stillness, he whispered against your shoulder, the ghost of a smile in his voice. “I came to return your phone.”

You laughed softly, a sound that felt too light, too free for everything that had just passed between you. And in that moment, you knew. This was only the beginning.