#this post was actually mean to be a series

[ldshadowlady-fanblog]

saddest little baby in the room..

tears falling down at the party...

[agirlwithglam]

things to think about/ do so you don't have time for overthinking ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

if you're confused, i understand. but if you're not, this post is perfect for you. this post if for the girlies who need to have something exciting in their life so that they're not so bored that they fall for some low quality man. its so that you can take back the power of how you feel and control it yourself so that nothing anybody can offer would be more appealing than what you give to yourself. also don't worry none of this is gonna be typical advice like "get a hobby!", this will be much more creative ;)

watch gossip girl!! you ALL know what i mean. literally when you feel like your life is lacking drama or something exciting, you can live vicariously through the scandals in this show

READ. "boring" no, you are. books are a great way to get lost in something thats also exciting. some book recs that i LOVED: percy jackson series, twilight, murder most unladylike, keeper of the lost cities.

do risky, scary, uncomfortable stuff on your own. a) to prove to yourself you're more than capable, and b) bc it will get you feeling groovy in no time. it can be things like talking to someone, prank calling, doing a random cartwheel in public, wearing an atrociously fabulous outfit, possibilities are endless. + plan spontaneous things you could do!

plan outfits in your head! ahhhh hahaha this is such a fav! if you know you're going out or on a trip soon, plan outfit combos and ideas of what you might wear instead of making fantasy scenarios of a loser (sorry sorry). even if you're not going anywhere, you could still decide outfits for any of the seasons or just future hypothetical scenarios

plan trips! yesss!! plan trips to countries you may want to visit, places you may want to take yourself on a date to, and not just that but actually decide when you're gonna go, are you gonna take family or friends? what you might wear, etc..

make argument/ persuasion ideas for when you hypothetically ask your parents if you can wear what you want. or, you know, something like that. if you didn't understand what i mean, basically try to think of persuading points of something that you want from your parents that they might not allow. its a good way to pass time ngl..

omgomgomg ok listen... pretend you're a spy working for/ against the government and you're here to get data... or something along those lines. wouldn't that be so cool!!

START A BLOG!! genuinely 10/10 recomend, idk i think i'd go insane without my blog lol. love it to pieces and its just something so fun to do, esp if you're a really creative person.

entertain the voices in your head. i don't mean in the troubling schizophrenia typa way, obviously. but like don't you guys entertain yourself by like mentally chatting to yourself? yeah do that! (idk if this is normal now, but i promise i don't have schiszophrenia)

if you really need some help/ are nervous, repeat affirmations. if you find yourself starting to feel anxious or scared or unloved or whatever, start repeating the opposite and do not allow those negative thoughts in. you can repeat things like "i am safe", "i am loved", "things will get better", "i am deserving of love and anything else i want."

[dunmeshistash]

Marcille Revealed in Five Keywords

5 keywords section from the Adventurer's Bible, this is transcribed from the EHScans translation for more info you can check this post. My own notes will be at the end of the post. All of these have spoilers btw

1. Family

Marcille's mother is an elf, and a mage currently employed by the royal court. Her father was a tallman who conducted historical research at the royal court. Marcille's father fell in love with her mother because she had personally experienced all the things in the history books he was studying, and he started making his moves at age 15. This continued until they married when he was 32. After he passed away of natural causes, Marcille's mother remarried to a gnome, and moved away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Incidentally, Marcille had a pet bird named Pipi when she was younger. The reason why she wants to eliminate the differences in lifespans between the races is largely due to the impact experiencing the deaths of her father and Pipi had on her at a young age.

2. Half-Elf

Born from a union between an elf and a tallman, Marcille is a mixed-blood race known as a half-elf. The reason why she kept this fact hidden from those around her was not due to an inferiority complex; rather, she felt that explaining her whole background would have been a hassle. By the way, one unique characteristic about half-elf ears is that they are slightly more rounded than elf ears.

3. Honor Student*

Marcille enrolled in the Magic Academy as a researcher. There, she conducted research behind factors causing sickness and injury; she was also involved in the creation of new healing magics. Marcille also was able to learn all the spells she used in the dungeon in a single day this required rather extensive knowledge and technique. Sadly, her party members are unable to comprehend how truly impressive this feat was.

4. Ancient Magic

The reason Marcille studied ancient magic was in order to eliminate the differences in lifespans between races. However, as ancient magic is also used to summon demons, ancient magic spells are considered taboo and its usage is heavily regulated.

5. Romance Novels

Marcille is a romantic type at heart, and is an avid fan of "The Daltian Clan"** series of romance novels. She's also constantly engrossed in the details of other people's love lives. When the party was attacked by succubi, Marcille's taste in beauty was put on full display; it's likely that the succubus' appearance was heavily influenced by her taste in romance novels.

------

*It's translated as Honor student in the official english but Marcille is not actually a student but a researcher (as the description says) EHScans translated it as "Academic Prodigy" but the original text is "優等生" which as far as I can tell does directly translate as "honor student", my guess is that it means she's good at studying/learning, because it would be weird to actually mean a student at the school since it's specified that she was not actually a student in chapter 57. She says "私は生徒じゃなくて研究者だからね" (not a "student/pupil" [ 生徒 ] But a researcher [ 研究者 ] )

**EHScans translates it as "D'Arcian Clan" but I decided to edit it to match the official english "Daltian Clan" just for consistency, since that's how it's referred to in this blog.

Stats

Timelines

Official version bellow the cut

[synchodai]

"Mystra groomed Gale" takes rustle my jimmies like no other. I get how some people who don't know much about her beyond BG3 may have this interpretation, but if you're like me, a woman who's been playing since the days of AD&D, you'd understand why accusing Mystra of being the bad person in this scenario may hit a nerve.

TL;DR: Did Mystra take advantage of Gale's devotion to her as his goddess? Definitely, she's a Faerûnian deity — they subsist on worship and adulation. Does that make her his abuser? Eh... man, maybe it's high time that a lot of us learn different terminology for unhealthy relationship dynamics other than abuser-victim. I've seen a couple of posts that are really gung-ho about forcing every companion character to be some sort of abuse victim, because that's what they've decided the game is about. I mean, they're free to interpret the game that way, but damn, we're really out here flattening god, the very concept of magic itself, into the role of an abusive ex, huh? A fantastical, nuanced relationship between mortal and immortal set against the backdrop of a rich palimpsest multiverse digested like a YouTube drama video.

Let me try to explain my perspective by going through the history of Mystra, how she's utilized in Forgotten Realms lore, and treated within D&D games in general.

MYSTRA THE MAN-EATER

Since her creation, she has always been depicted as the sexy goddess whose main purpose was to be a wizard player's muse as well as their patron. Back then, D&D (and TTRPGs in general) was a heavily male-dominated hobby, so Mystra (and Mystryl, her avatars, and all her other incarnations) was catered and shaped by that demographic.

Because it's the player characters and Wizards of the Coast who have narrative agency and many of them want to fuck a goddess, they make stories where Mystra comes on to them because their character is just so good at magic. They designed Mystra to be a mysterious, beautiful love interest because they wanted to use her as the crown jewel of their power fantasy of being a super cool and powerful magic man. You can pretty much see this in the Elminster books and the Avatar series with Midnight (one of Mystra's avatars). Gale himself seems to be an exploration of this typical kind of wizard character.

As far as power fantasies go, making the goddess of magic have an intimate relationship with a mortal character is fine. It's the ultimate validation for a burger-flipper when the god and all source of burger-flipping is head over heels in love with them. It also doesn't have to have a sexual component to have "magic" and the magic system itself enamored with a character — depending on the game and DM, Mystra's favor can be entirely symbolic and metaphorical. A fine power fantasy in the power fantasy generation game.

So because everyone literally wants a piece of her, you end up with Mystra having more Chosen running around than any other god. Understandable given what she has to do to maintain her massive portfolio. It fits her as the personification of magic — someone who entices ambitious young spellcasters but burns them out through obsession and overreaching. Consume any Forgotten Realms-related media, and you've probably come across at least one campaign, novelization, or character backstory that use Mystra for the role of sexy sorceress goddess that's the alluring (yet often demanding) patron of some magic man. Whomst amongst our wizards haven't been visited by Mystra in the night ordering him to do plot point, he rolls to seduce her, and she has no choice but to admit that she's actually attracted to him because the dice said so? It was a community inside joke passed around tables: Mystra the Man-eater.

But then some BG3 fans started taking the joke seriously...

MYSTRA THE GROOMER AND WHORE

This piece of dialogue has done so much irrevocable damage.

Some (Galemancers specifically) have interpreted this to mean that Mystra is known to go after young men. She does not. She has more documented Chosen than other gods due to her massive portfolio and power level, but there are just as many female Chosen as there are male Chosen. Minsc, like most of us in this fandom, is speculating and doing so in a way that uplifts Gale at the cost of taking a bit of a jab at Mystra.

"Mystra's a whore. She boned Kelemvor and Elminster and so many of her Chosen, taking advantage of them as a goddess," they say as if she didn't have her romantic relationships all as different people and in different bodies. Her avatar Dasumia was the one who had an intimate relationship with Elminster, and it was the human Midnight (who later ascended to become Mystra) who was Kelemvor's lover (who himself was a mortal adventurer at the time).

This is why Mystra is, how other people put it, "a whore." Because WotC canonized a handful of those stories where different sexy female mage love interests whom otherwise have nothing in common are slapped with the Mystra label for one reason or another. Sometimes they're mere avatars or magical projections, sometimes they're actual people possessed by Mystra, and sometimes they're destined to be the new Mystra but don't know it yet. But those sort of nuances are lost to people who learn their lore secondhand from deliberately provocative tweets and reddit posts, flattening extremely fantastical relationships to clumsily fit a more relatable framing that'll net them more online engagement.

I don't want to argue what is and isn't grooming. But I have encountered arguments taking Gale's mentions that he was "a young man" to mean Mystra groomed him as a child. But I doubt he would have said "young man" if he meant child...

Mystra took off the gossamer veils from her body to fully reveal herself to him — or whatever romanticized way Gale tells you that they were intimate. The man speaks in half-abstraction and metaphors because it's revealed later on in the romance that all their love-making happened outside the Material Plane. They were very intimate, but never physically had sex (or had any physical contact at all because gods are only allowed to interact with mortals through their avatars or projections). If Mystra "groomed" Gale, so did every other god who revealed themselves and made themselves vulnerable to their followers. Shar grooms her justiciars when she brings them into her dark embrace. Umberlee grooms her clerics when she swallows them up and gives them her wet kiss.

MYSTRA IS A FAIR GOD ACTUALLY

Look, gods in D&D-verses are, more often than not, dicks. They have to be or else there would be no need for adventurers to fix wrong-doings if the gods weren't so detached to the suffering of mortals and regularly making earth-shattering calamities.

Mystra, as a patron, is actually one of the more fair and hands-on dieties. She's one of the few gods who rewards benevolent ambition and punishes destructive hubris, knowing the line between the two. In the Elminster series, she (or one of her avatars) assists Elminster in taking down one of her rebel Chosen who has abused her blessing to become a tyrant. Azuth, one of her Chosen, has achieved godhood through her. In fact, she is divinely obliged — forced against her will, some might say — to help mortals she would personally rather smite. There have been so many instances where Mystra has to be the bigger person. As far as gods abusing their followers go, Mystra is low on that list.

There are barely any stories of magic abusing spellcasters, but there are cautionary tales aplenty of spellcasters abusing magic.

ON GALE SPECIFICALLY: HOW IS MYSTRA THE BAD GUY HERE?

Gale is the first to tell you that he "violated her boundaries." Mystra told him not to mess with the Tome of Netheril and he did it anyway, so he's fully aware that the orb in his chest and his fall from grace is his own fault. Mystra didn't cast him aside just because she felt like he was getting too big for his britches. His actions actively endangered her and the Weave.

(Mystra is wrong about certain details on the Karsite Weave if we're going by Forgotten Realms lore, but she's not wrong about its existence being a danger. BG3 takes a lot of liberties with the world Faerûn, so I can't definitively say whether Mystra being wrong was her lying, Larian rewriting canon, or this incarnation of Mystra not knowing the true nature of the Fall of Netheril. I could go on about what effects the Karsite Weave actually would have on magic, but this post is already long enough. )

Gale only starts to resent Mystra when she asks him to detonate himself. Elminster makes it sound like an order, but from the way she doesn't punish him in the epilogue if he chooses to keep the orb, it feels more like a suggestion. If Mystra wanted Gale well and truly dead, she has so many options.

Throughout Faerûn's history, Mystra herself has constantly been betrayed and taken advantage of — her power coveted by ambitious men who claim to worship and love her. Honestly, as far as goddesses with traumatic histories of being killed by ambitious men go, she's pretty chill about Gale. The fact that she allows him to become the god of ambition in the end if you choose that path? Well... let's just say she's not the one who looks like the evil ex who was only with their partner to take advantage of them in this scenario.

CONCLUSION

Mystra isn't the only goddess to have romantic relationships with her followers. I've already yapped on about how Forgotten Realms writers and D&D players love to make goddesses fuck their heroes, and all that pearl-clutching over "power imbalance" and "consent" is moot when the mortal party is actively rolling to seduce the divine entity.

But notice how the male gods rarely have intimate relations with their mortal charges? It's almost as if Mystra was objectified for years by horny nerds to be the sexy sorceress who validates the more important male hero. Fast forward years later, she's now being slut-shamed for all the lore of her sleeping with the more important male hero by a new crop of fans who would love to think they're more progressive than the horny nerds of the 80s, but fall into the same trap. Mystra has so much potential for complexity, but they choose to flatten her because they ultimately don't care about making stories involving complex female characters.

Instead, one of the most powerful beings in Faerûn has no bigger role in this universe than to be your girlfriend or your current boyfriend's evil ex. Wow, the realms of your creativity and respect for women truly know no bounds.

[mellosdrawings]

Saw your thoughts on twst polycule ships and got intrigued by your favorites. Could you recommend me fics featuring those?

I wish I was exaggerating...

Disclaimer, you won't actually find much fic recs in my long rant :'D Sorry.

There's actually barely any (if any at all) fics about the polycule ships I mentioned in that post.

For the OB/Housewarden polycule (including or not Yuu), you'll mainly find them in textposts on Tumblr rather than actual fics. To my knowledge, there are only two fics about them (that I haven't read yet).

For the third and second year polycules, same shit. No fics whatsoever. I've only ever heard about them in brainstorming with friends or in textposts.

First year polycule already has more fics! Personally I've been scouring the fanarts more than the tags though. I said it in an old post, I care less about the first years than the others years ^^'

For a teachers polycule, you will find variations (Crowley/Crewel/Sam/Vargas or Crowley/Crewel/Trein or Crowley/Crewel/Sam) but to my knowledge there isn't any for the full polycule (y'all are so mean to Trein and Vargas lmao)

For Yuu/everyone, most of the fics I found were more series of one shots of Yuu with one or two partners rather than a big polycule. I don't really have much to give you here.

(Though as a slight tangent: there is the series Twisted Tales that has various polycules/ships. Be mindful, there are some ships that won't suit everybody, the author likes to make it clear the morality in Twisted Wonderland is vastly different from our own world. Personally I found it interesting to think about.)

For littler polycules:

-you have precisely one (1) fic about the Depression Trio. I like it pretty much.

-for the N2 squad there's just @aria-faye's STYX rewrite and my own fic.

-Azul/Leech probably has the most fics out of all the polycules. But I... don't really read much about it :') I like the fanarts though.

-there's only one (1) fic about the Savanaclaw-to-Pomefiore pipeline (Rook/Leona/Vil) and it wasn't to my taste, but who knows. Maybe you'll like.

-five fics about Azul/Jamil/Idia. They're all pretty cute honestly, I like the vibes.

-one (1) fic about Rook/Vil/Jamil, and I love it a lot but aihdjsbdid V I'm still not over that ending!!!

-couldn't find any of the retainers ship (Ruggie/Jamil/Sebek/Silver)

-and the only one who's ever written the Manipulation gang (Jade/Jamil/Ruggie) is @the-fab-fox in his series, with this fic being the one focused on them.

Can't really think of more polycules rn.

Anyway, all that to say: there are fanarts and textposts, but definitely not enough polycule fics so I invite y'all writers to try your hands at it if it interests you!

Also if anybody has poly fics to rec please put them in the comments I'm starving!

[evenyvn]

Hwa's fan club president

rockstar!fem!reader x idol!seonghwa

cw : she/her for reader, sfw, a part of this fic but can be read as stand alone, a little smau at the end of fic, very self indulgent so no beta read.

glad to know people also enjoyed this silly fics that i wrote for myself btw 🫶

more of this series

By now, the world had fully accepted that you are hopelessly in love with Seonghwa. Fans adored your relationship, often teasing you for how obviously smitten you were. But lately, you had taken things to a whole new level—one that had both your fans and Seonghwa’s utterly amused.

You had become the most active Park Seonghwa fan on the internet.

At first, it was subtle. you would like a few pictures of him on Instagram, maybe drop a heart emoji under Seonghwa's and Ateez’s official posts. But then you started getting bold.

One day, a fan account posted a slow-motion edit of Seonghwa during a recent performance, the caption reading: “How is this man even real???”

You retweeted it with: “Trust me, I ask myself this every day.”

Chaos ensued.

username_01

> “HELLO??? GIRL AREN’T YOU DATING HIM??”

username_02

> “I THOUGHT THIS WAS AN ATINY FAN ACCOUNT UNTIL I SAW THE USERNAME💀”

username_03

> “Y/N is just like us fr”

username_04

> “Even his gf can’t believe she pulled him 💀”

A few days later, an atiny posted a fancam of Seonghwa from their latest concert, captioning it:

username_01

“Seonghwa owns this stage, no one is doing it like him.”

yn_luclipse

> "FACTS💯💯"

username_02

“I can’t get over how good Seonghwa looks in this outfit.”

yn_luclipse

> “real, also does he do wedding? as groom i mean”

Your biggest moment, however, was when a fan jokingly posted: “If Y/N weren’t an idol, I bet she’d be running a Seonghwa fan account.”

And you actually responded: “You’re so right, I’d be an admin by now.”

The internet exploded.

username_01

> “SHE KNOWS. SHE ACTUALLY KNOWS.”

username_02

>“At this point, she’s not even his gf—she’s his biggest fangirl.”

username_03

>“Imagine dating someone and STILL being their #1 fan, I love them.”

Even Ateez’s official account joined in, reposting your comment with, “Our biggest Hwa fan, confirmed.”

And the final straw is when Seonghwa himself finally caught on.

During a live broadcast, a fan asked, “Seonghwa, did you see how much Y/N has been fangirling over you?”

Seonghwa sighed, running a hand down his face. “Ahh.. I did see,” he admitted, a small (totally fond) smile appearing. “At this point, I think she loves my fancams more than I do.”

Then, he laughed softly, shaking his head. “But, honestly? It’s cute. I like that she’s my biggest fan, even if she's kinda weird sometimes."

He then giggled fondly when he saw your denying comment on his screen, clearly amused by you act.

And just like that, your campaign as the unofficial President of the Park Seonghwa Fan Club was sealed in history.

yn_luclipse tweeted :

devider by @/adornedwithlight | likes and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[arilevenatz]

Outscored 𝟐┃C.JH

Pairing: jock! Jongho x Reader

Genre/trope: enemies to lovers au

Word Count: 25.7k (💀) [it's gonna be a 2 parter]

Warnings: biker jongho (need I say more?), he is also a bit annoying, but he becomes a MAN at the end

AN: Ok I'm a sucker for jongho, u guys know it. And after he posted his picture I had a seizure. And I kinda slipped and wrote this whole thing. And yeah this is for all the jongho girlies out there like me. Please please please love this as I spent a lot of time writing this!

This is part two. Read part one here-

one | two

The project turned out better than either of them had expected, and when the professor handed back the grades, it was no surprise that YN and Jongho had scored the highest. The students in the class started whispering about them, dubbing them "the power partners."

YN, however, hated the nickname. She rolled her eyes every time she heard someone say it. “Why can’t people just mind their own business?” she muttered to Hanni one day in the cafeteria.

Hanni, ever the supportive friend, smirked. “Maybe because you and Jongho looked like an actual dream team. Admit it—you two killed that project.”

“Still,” YN huffed, stabbing her salad with unnecessary force, “I don’t like it.”

Over at the ATEEZ table, Jongho wasn’t exactly thrilled with the nickname either. He frowned as one of his friends, Wooyoung, teased him about it.

“Power partners, huh? Sounds about right,” Wooyoung said with a sly grin. “I mean, you two make a good team.”

“Shut up,” Jongho grumbled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like it either.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mingi teased, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like it. But you don’t seem to mind being around her all the time.”

Jongho scowled, but before he could retort, Yeosang, who had been silently observing, spoke up. “Let’s be real, Jongho. Do you actually dislike her, or are you just saying that because you don’t want to admit something?”

“What’s there to admit?” Jongho snapped, crossing his arms.

Seonghwa, ever the voice of reason, sighed. “You’ve been weird about her since day one. You get irritated when she’s better than you, but you also can’t stop noticing every little thing about her. Either figure it out or let it go, because we’re tired of your denial.”

“Exactly,” San added with a grin. “Test it out. See if you actually like her or if she’s just in your head because she’s always in your space.”

Jongho glared at them all, but their words stuck with him. That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way she had taken charge during the project, the way she had cooked for him, the way she had looked at him when she smiled after their grade was announced.

“Do I… like her?” he muttered to himself, the thought making him feel uneasy.

He shook his head, frustrated. No, it couldn’t be that. It was just… annoyance. Competition. Nothing more.

But the thought lingered, and for the first time, Jongho wasn’t so sure of his own answer.

Jongho’s dilemma had become everyone else’s entertainment. His friends, fed up with his constant denial, decided to take matters into their own hands. They came up with a "foolproof" series of tests to help him figure out his feelings.

Test 1: The Jealousy Test

Hongjoong kicked things off by walking up to YN during lunch. With his signature smirk, he leaned casually against her table and said, “YN, you’re looking gorgeous today. How about we ditch class and grab some coffee?”

Jongho, sitting across the cafeteria, froze mid-bite. His eyes narrowed as he watched Hongjoong laugh at something YN said.

“Dude,” Mingi whispered, nudging him. “Why are you gripping your fork like you’re about to stab someone?”

“I’m not,” Jongho muttered through gritted teeth.

“Uh-huh,” Yeosang said, amused. “Sure looks like it.” Wooyoung winked at Jongho. “Yep, he’s pissed. Jealousy level: high.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jongho growled.

“Right,” Wooyoung said, grinning. “And I’m not handsome.”

Test 2: The Compliment Test

The next day, San decided to push Jongho’s buttons. During class, he loudly announced, “You know, YN is really something. She’s smart, funny, and have you seen her hair? Shiny like silk. I bet she smells amazing too.”

Jongho, who was sitting behind YN, audibly scoffed.

San turned around, feigning innocence. “What? You don’t agree, Jongho?”

“She’s… fine,” Jongho said flatly, avoiding everyone’s amused stares.

“Fine?” San repeated, pretending to be offended. “That’s all you’ve got? She’s perfect, and you know it.”

Jongho slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Shut up, San.”

Test 3: The Heartbeat Test

Seonghwa, ever the schemer, pulled out a fitness tracker with a heart rate monitor. “Okay, Jongho,” he said, strapping it onto his wrist. “Time to see how you react to her.”

“This is stupid,” Jongho grumbled, but he didn’t resist when Seonghwa placed the tracker on his wrist.

As YN walked into the room, Jongho’s heart rate spiked immediately. The boys stared at the tracker in silence before bursting into laughter.

“Calm down, lover boy,” Mingi teased. “You’re about to break the machine.”

Jongho yanked the tracker off, his face red. “It’s broken,” he insisted.

“Sure it is,” Yeosang said with a knowing smirk.

Test 4: The Accidental Touch

Mingi "accidentally" bumped YN into Jongho while they were walking down the hallway. She stumbled, her hand brushing against Jongho’s arm as he steadied her.

“You okay?” Jongho asked, his voice unusually soft.

“I’m fine, thanks,” YN replied, smiling politely before walking off.

The boys, watching from a distance, erupted into cheers.

“Did you see that?” Wooyoung howled. “He didn’t even yell at her!”

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I hate all of you.”

“Face it, man,” San said, clapping him on the back. “You’ve got it bad.”

Despite the teasing and their ridiculous tests, Jongho couldn’t shake the growing realization. No matter how much he denied it, his friends were right—YN had gotten under his skin, and there was no turning back.

YN paced back and forth in her dorm room, arms crossed and brows furrowed as she fumed. “What is their problem? Why can’t they just leave me alone?!” she practically yelled.

Hanni sat on the bed, nervously watching her friend explode. She held a notebook in her lap but had completely forgotten about it as she tried to calm YN down. “Okay, okay, breathe. Don’t let them get to you, YN. They’re just… being their usual chaotic selves.”

“No,” YN snapped, spinning around to face Hanni. “This isn’t just their usual chaos. They’re deliberately messing with me, and I’m done with it.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “What do they even want from me?!”

Hanni bit her lip. “I mean… maybe Jongho likes you?”

YN stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Hanni like she’d grown another head. “What? Jongho? Like me? Absolutely not.”

Hanni shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying! It’s not like he goes out of his way to mess with anyone else like this.”

YN groaned, pressing her palms to her temples. “Even if that were true, how does this make any sense? His friends are involved now too! They’re all acting like lunatics, and I’m losing my mind.”

Hanni got up, placing her hands on YN’s shoulders. “Okay, listen. You want peace, right?”

“Yes,” YN said through gritted teeth.

“Then confront them. March up to their table, call them out, and demand an answer. If Jongho or his friends don’t give you one, I’ll personally throw my coffee at Wooyoung.”

Despite her anger, YN couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “You’d really throw your coffee at Wooyoung?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hanni said with a grin. “I’d make it iced so it stings more.”

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Fine. Tomorrow, I’m confronting them. But if I don’t get a proper answer, they’d better be prepared.”

Hanni gave her a thumbs-up. “Now that’s the YN I know. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The next day, YN stormed into the cafeteria during lunch. The usual buzz of chatter filled the room, but she had her sights set on one table: Ateez’s.

Without hesitation, she marched over and slammed her hands on the table, startling them all. The entire cafeteria seemed to quiet down as people turned to watch.

“What do you want from me?!” YN demanded, her voice firm.

The boys exchanged glances, some smirking, some looking a bit guilty. Jongho, sitting at the center, raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” he asked calmly.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” YN snapped. “I know you’ve all been messing with me. Whatever weird little game this is, stop it. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, grinning. “She’s feisty. I like her.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned, giving him a look.

“Look,” YN continued, glaring at Jongho specifically, “I don’t care what your problem is. If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

Jongho leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met her gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was low and steady. “Maybe I do have something to say.”

The tension was thick as YN folded her arms, her heart racing despite her anger. “Then say it.”

For a moment, it seemed like Jongho might actually confess something, but instead, he leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Not here. Later.”

YN rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, turning on her heel to leave.

Behind her, the boys chuckled, but Jongho remained quiet, his smirk fading as he watched her walk away.

The lecture droned on, the professor’s voice blending into the background as YN’s attention started to waver. She rested her chin on her hand, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk. Her focus drifted from the lesson, and she casually let her gaze wander around the classroom, trying to keep herself awake.

It was an innocent habit. A quick scan of the room, her eyes briefly passing over her classmates. But when her gaze landed on Jongho, she froze.

He was already looking at her.

It wasn’t just a passing glance or idle staring. His eyes were locked onto her with an intensity that felt borderline magnetic. His dark brown eyes were sharp, unwavering, and inexplicably powerful. It was like he wasn’t just looking at her—he was seeing straight through her.

YN’s breath hitched for a moment. Her stomach churned with unease, but at the same time, something unfamiliar twisted deep within her. She hated to admit it, but he looked… ridiculously attractive. His expression was calm but unreadable, his jawline accentuated by the way he tilted his head slightly.

Why does he look like that? she thought, trying to keep her composure. And why can’t I stop looking at him?

It reminded her of that night at the red light stop—the same piercing gaze through the black helmet. But this time, it felt more personal. There was no helmet to mask his features, no physical barrier between them. Just those impossibly striking eyes.

She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming despite herself. Get it together, YN. It’s just Jongho.

But her heart wasn’t cooperating. It beat just a little faster than usual, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of his stare lingering even after she looked away.

Unbeknownst to her, Jongho smirked faintly. He had caught the way her face changed, the subtle way her lips parted in surprise before she turned away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel victorious.

Interesting, he thought, leaning back in his chair. So she’s not entirely unaffected after all.

Jongho was never the kind of person to overthink emotions. He dealt with things as they came, approaching life with confidence and logic. But when it came to YN, logic didn’t seem to work anymore. Every time he saw her, his feelings became more chaotic, more confusing, and undeniably more prominent. While he couldn’t fully grasp what he felt, his actions started to show it, whether he intended them to or not.

YN was seated in her usual spot, scribbling notes furiously as the professor explained a particularly complex topic. Jongho sat a few rows behind her, his eyes drifting toward her more often than his notebook.

The class was halfway through when the professor announced a quick pop quiz. Everyone groaned, including YN, who had just run out of ink in her pen.

“Great timing,” she muttered under her breath, shaking the pen in frustration. She rummaged through her pencil case, but it was clear she didn’t have a spare.

Jongho noticed immediately. He reached into his bag, pulling out an extra pen without hesitation. Instead of handing it over himself, he nudged the guy sitting next to him, gesturing toward YN.

“Pass this to her,” Jongho said, his voice low.

The pen made its way to YN, who blinked in surprise when it landed on her desk. She glanced over her shoulder to see who it came from, her eyes landing on Jongho. He didn’t say anything, just met her gaze briefly before looking away, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Thanks,” she whispered, though he didn’t acknowledge it.

It was a small gesture, but it left YN feeling oddly unsettled. For someone who usually went out of his way to annoy her, the act of kindness felt strange—almost deliberate.

YN sat at her usual corner table, flipping through a thick reference book for an upcoming assignment. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice Jongho entering the library until he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

She looked up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying,” he said simply, pulling out his notebook.

She frowned. “There are plenty of other tables.”

���This one’s fine,” he replied, not looking at her as he started writing.

YN sighed, deciding to ignore him and focus on her own work. But as the minutes ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice him stealing glances at her. She tried to brush it off, thinking it was her imagination, until she reached for her coffee cup and accidentally knocked it over.

“Crap,” she muttered, quickly grabbing a tissue from her bag to clean up the spill.

Before she could fully manage, Jongho slid his notebook aside, pulling out a small packet of tissues from his jacket pocket. He handed it to her without a word.

YN paused, staring at him. “You carry tissues around?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “You never know when someone’s going to be clumsy.”

She rolled her eyes but took the tissues. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jongho smirked faintly but said nothing, leaning back in his chair as she cleaned up the mess.

As she continued working, YN couldn’t help but feel his presence more than usual. There was something different about him lately—something softer. And though she hated to admit it, it was starting to mess with her head.

Jongho, on the other hand, was quietly observing her, trying to figure out why watching her focus so intently on her work made him feel strangely… content.

It was one of those days where the world seemed to be falling apart for YN. She sat in the library, her head buried in her arms, tears streaming silently down her face. Her phone lay on the table next to her, the call from her mother still echoing in her mind. Her dad had suffered a stroke. The news had hit her like a freight train, and the helplessness of not being able to reach him was eating her alive.

She had tried everything—calling for train tickets, searching for buses, and even looking into flights—but nothing seemed to work. The distance to her hometown suddenly felt insurmountable, and it left her feeling trapped and powerless.

Hanni sat beside her, her own heart breaking at the sight of her best friend in such despair. She had never seen YN like this—so vulnerable, so broken. Hanni tried to console her, rubbing her back gently, but she knew words wouldn’t fix this.

“You need to go to him,” Hanni said softly.

“I can’t,” YN choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s no way to get there.”

Hanni clenched her fists, her mind racing. If no one else could help, then there was only one person who could. She didn’t hesitate. Standing up, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the library, leaving YN behind.

Jongho and his friends were lounging in their usual spot outside the gym, the air filled with their loud chatter and occasional bursts of laughter. Mingi was tossing a football back and forth with San, while Wooyoung was busy showing off some absurd new trick with a deck of cards. Hongjoong leaned against a bench, scrolling through his phone, while Jongho sat quietly, sipping on his protein shake, his usual stoic presence anchoring the group.

The peace was shattered when Hanni stormed into the scene, her expression a mix of frustration and desperation. The group turned to her, their conversations dying mid-sentence.

“What’s this?” Wooyoung smirked, tossing the cards onto the table. “The library queen has graced us with her presence?”

Hanni ignored him completely, her eyes locking onto Jongho. “I need to talk to you.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, setting down his drink. “What is it?”

“It’s YN,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Her dad had a stroke, and she needs to get home, but there are no tickets available. She’s stuck, and she’s losing it. You have a bike. You can take her.”

The guys exchanged glances, the playful atmosphere immediately shifting into something more serious.

“And why do you think he should do it?” San asked, crossing his arms.

“Because he’s the only one who can!” Hanni snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. “I wouldn’t trust you to get her there safely. Jongho can handle it.”

Jongho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why me?”

“Because,” Hanni said, her voice softening, “for all your stupid games and ego battles, I know you care about her.”

The group went silent, all eyes on Jongho. He didn’t say anything at first, his jaw clenching slightly as he processed her words. Then, without a word, he stood up, grabbing his bag from the bench.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“The library,” Hanni said quickly.

“Alright,” he muttered, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

His friends watched as he started walking off, a mix of surprise and curiosity on their faces.

“Wait,” Wooyoung called out, smirking. “Is this your knight-in-shining-armor moment, Jongho? Should we start calling you Prince Charming now?”

“Shut up,” Jongho shot back, but there was no real heat in his tone.

As Hanni led him toward the library, she couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, there was a determined look in his eyes that gave her hope. Maybe, just maybe, YN had someone who would always be there when it truly mattered.

The library was eerily quiet as Hanni and Jongho stepped inside, the soft sound of turning pages and the occasional rustle of papers filling the air. Hanni led the way to the corner where YN was sitting, her head buried in her arms, silent tears streaming down her face.

Jongho’s jaw tightened at the sight. He didn’t hesitate. Striding up to her, he stopped just a step away and cleared his throat.

“YN,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She blinked up at him, confusion crossing her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“I’m taking you home,” he said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Get your stuff and pack a bag. We’re leaving now.”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned by his words. Normally, she would’ve protested or argued back, but she was too emotionally drained to put up a fight. Instead, she just nodded, her movements slow and robotic as she stood and grabbed her bag.

Hanni watched the exchange with a mix of relief and curiosity. She had never seen Jongho so direct, so...caring, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Thank you,” Hanni whispered to Jongho as YN gathered her things.

He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on YN the entire time. Once she was ready, he turned on his heel and led the way out of the library, his stride confident.

The ride was quiet, the hum of the bike engine filling the silence as they sped down the highway. YN sat behind Jongho, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the cool night air whipped past them.

Jongho didn’t say a word, but he drove with an intensity that YN couldn’t ignore. Despite everything—the teasing, the bickering, the games—she felt a strange sense of safety in that moment.

She rested her head lightly against his back, her tears drying as the rhythm of the bike soothed her nerves. She didn’t know what to say, and for once, she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Jongho, on the other hand, was acutely aware of her presence. Her warmth against his back, the way her arms tightened around him every time they turned a corner—it was all making his thoughts spiral. He didn’t understand why he felt so protective of her, why her tears had struck such a chord with him.

But one thing was certain: he would do whatever it took to get her home, no questions asked.

As they entered the hospital, the smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the muffled sounds of machines and quiet conversations. YN wasted no time running toward the general ward, her heart pounding as she navigated the maze of hallways. Jongho followed closely behind, her bag slung over his shoulder, his usually calm expression now tinged with concern.

When she finally reached the ward, her heart sank. Her father was lying on a general bed, his face pale and drawn, wires and monitors attached to him. Her mother sat by his side, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, exhaustion etched into her features.

“Mom,” YN called, her voice trembling as she approached. “What’s going on? Why is he here? Why isn’t he in a proper room?”

Her mother looked up, her tired eyes meeting YN’s. “The hospital is full, sweetheart,” she said, her voice heavy. “There aren’t any rooms available right now. This was the only space they had.”

YN clenched her fists, her heart breaking at the sight of her father in such a crowded and uncomfortable setting. She looked around, taking in the other patients crammed into the small ward, the lack of privacy, and the impersonal atmosphere.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “He needs proper care.”

Just as the air in the room grew heavier with worry, a nurse approached them, her voice soft but clear.

“Excuse me,” she said, looking at YN’s mother. “A private room has just been arranged for your husband. We’ll move him there shortly.”

YN blinked, her mind racing with confusion. She looked at her mother, who appeared equally surprised, and then back at the nurse.

“Wait, what?” YN asked, standing up abruptly. “How did that happen? Who...who arranged it?”

The nurse didn't say anything, YN was shocked, glancing at Jongho, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Someone already covered the charges,” the nurse said quietly.

YN’s gaze snapped to Jongho, her heart sinking and racing all at once. She stared at him, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief, confusion, and something she couldn’t quite name.

“You...you paid for it?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Jongho shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “It’s no big deal,” he said, his tone casual. “Your dad needed a proper room, and you didn’t have time to deal with all the red tape. That’s all.”

“No big deal?” YN repeated, her voice rising. She took a step closer to him, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Jongho, private rooms in a hospital cost a fortune! You can’t just—why would you even—”

He finally looked at her then, his gaze steady but tinged with something soft, something almost vulnerable. “Because you needed it,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, YN couldn’t speak. Her throat felt tight, and she wasn’t sure if it was from gratitude, anger, or something else entirely. She glanced at her mother, who was watching them with a knowing look, and then back at Jongho.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

“I wanted to,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The nurse cleared her throat gently, breaking the tension. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make sure everything is ready for the transfer,” she said before walking away.

YN stood there, her emotions a whirlwind. She wanted to thank him, to argue with him, to understand why he would do something so selfless after everything they’d been through. But instead, she just nodded, her voice trembling as she said, “Thank you, Jongho. Really.”

He gave her a small nod, his stoic facade firmly in place. But as she turned back to her father, he allowed himself a brief moment to watch her, his chest tightening with an emotion he was finally starting to understand.

The hospital lobby was quiet except for the occasional announcements over the intercom. YN sat on one of the plastic chairs, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. Jongho sat beside her, his legs stretched out, arms crossed, silent as ever. The check-up was still ongoing, and the wait felt endless.

She didn’t know why, but the weight in her chest felt unbearable. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the emotions swirling in her head. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, someone was sitting beside her, just… there. No judgment. No empty words of comfort. Just Jongho, quiet and solid.

Without really thinking, she spoke. “My dad is an alcoholic.”

Jongho turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything. He just listened.

“He wasn’t always like this,” she continued, her fingers clenching the fabric of her hoodie. “He used to be a good dad. He worked hard, took care of us, made stupid dad jokes. But then… something changed.”

Jongho didn’t ask what. He let her talk.

“He started drinking. At first, it was just a little. Stress, he said. Just a way to unwind. But then it got worse. He started losing jobs, coming home late, spending money we didn’t have. And the worst part was…” She swallowed. “He got angry. All the time. At everything.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t interrupt.

“He never hit us,” she clarified, her voice quieter now. “But the words… sometimes they cut deeper. The yelling, the accusations, the way he would just explode over the smallest things. My mom tried to handle it, but it wore her down. And me? I—I couldn’t stay. I had to get out. That’s why I left. That’s why I stay in dorms or anywhere but home.”

Jongho exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice lower than usual, he finally spoke.

“That’s why you never go back.”

YN blinked, turning to look at him. His face was calm, but there was an edge to his voice. Like he understood more than he let on.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy, filled with things unsaid.

Then, Jongho shifted, resting his arms on his knees as he stared ahead. “Must’ve been hard.”

YN let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well. Life’s not exactly a fairy tale.”

He glanced at her, his gaze softer than usual. “No. It’s not.”

Another silence. This time, it felt… different.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “You’re stronger than you think, you know that?”

YN turned to him sharply, caught off guard. “What?”

Jongho shrugged, looking away. “I’m just saying. You left. You got out. You built something for yourself instead of letting it trap you. That takes guts.”

YN didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t used to people saying things like this to her—especially not Jongho of all people.

Jongho leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. He rubbed his hands together, as if debating whether to speak or not. YN was still staring at him, her eyes searching, waiting.

“I guess… it��s only fair if I tell you something too,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual.

YN didn’t push. She just nodded, silently telling him to continue.

“My parents,” he started, pausing for a second. “They never really cared about me.”

That caught her off guard. She had always imagined him coming from a well-off family, considering the way he carried himself, the expensive apartment, the confidence.

“They weren’t bad people,” he continued, staring at the floor. “They just… weren’t really parents. Their world was business, money, social status. I was more like a project than a kid. Something to mold into their perfect successor.” He scoffed. “But I wasn’t interested in any of that.”

YN stayed quiet, letting him talk at his own pace.

“I grew up in empty houses. Big, expensive places with no warmth. I had tutors, trainers, all that. But never them.” He clenched his jaw. “They were always too busy. Too far away. And when they were around, it was all about expectations. I had to be the best. Had to be strong. Had to be exactly what they wanted. If I wasn’t, I wasn’t worth their time.”

YN felt a strange tightness in her chest. She had never heard him talk like this before.

“But my friends?” He huffed a small laugh. “They’re my real family. They were the ones who actually cared. Looked out for me. Picked fights for me when I was pissed off. Made sure I ate when I was too stubborn to admit I was hungry. Taught me how to survive outside of what my parents wanted me to be.”

He glanced at her, his expression softer now. “That’s why I’m the way I am. Why I fight, why I stick with them no matter what. They’re all I’ve got.”

Silence settled between them again, heavy but not uncomfortable.

YN finally spoke, her voice gentle. “You’re lucky, you know?”

Jongho raised a brow. “Lucky?”

She nodded. “You found people who care about you. Even if it’s not in the way you expected.”

Jongho stared at her for a long moment, then smirked slightly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

She didn’t say anything, just gave him a small smile in return. And for the first time since they’d met, they weren’t rivals, weren’t enemies. Just two people, sitting in a hospital lobby, understanding each other in a way no one else ever had.

For a moment, neither of them moved. YN had acted without thinking, driven by the strange warmth in her chest. She had never hugged him before—never even considered it. But right now, it just felt right.

Jongho stiffened, caught off guard. It's not like he was not hugged before, wooyoung and san always hug him, but this was different.

It was YN.

She held onto him tightly, her face buried in his shoulder, gripping his hoodie like she was afraid he’d disappear. She didn’t say anything, didn’t explain. She just stayed there, holding him like she needed him.

And what she didn’t know was that Jongho needed it just as much.

Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. His arms moved on their own, wrapping around her waist, holding her just as tightly.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

For once, there was no competition, no rivalry, no mind games. Just them.

Jongho closed his eyes, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. He didn’t understand his feelings completely, but he knew one thing.

He didn’t want to let go.

Jongho had never felt this out of place before. Hospitals weren’t his thing—too quiet, too sterile, too full of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with. But YN had dragged him inside, refusing to let him just stand outside like some outsider.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can just stand in the doorway,” she had said.

And that’s exactly what he did. Arms crossed, leaning against the frame, watching silently as YN sat beside her father’s bed, her mother beside her.

Her father was awake now, looking tired but stable. He still had that roughness to him, even as he weakly talked to YN, but it was clear he wasn’t the same man she had once feared.

Jongho didn’t say much, didn’t interfere, but YN’s mother noticed him. She had been watching him carefully, taking in his presence, the way he lingered like a silent guardian.

Then, with a warm but firm voice, she said, “You should come to dinner at our house.”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

“My daughter wouldn’t have made it here without you,” her mother continued. “Let me properly thank you.”

Jongho hesitated. Dinner? With YN’s family? That was… new. He wasn’t used to things like that.

“I don’t—” He started to refuse, but then he saw it.

The way YN was looking at him.

She wasn’t saying anything, but her expression said everything. She wanted him to say yes.

And damn it, if there was one person who could make him agree to things he normally wouldn’t… It was her.

“…Fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

YN smiled. And Jongho, despite himself, felt a little warmer inside.

Jongho had never really thought about how YN lived. He knew she stayed in the dorms, but seeing her actual home was… different.

The house wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t big enough for three people to live comfortably either. There was only one bedroom, and judging by the way her mother moved around the space so naturally, it was clear that privacy wasn’t really a thing here.

As they paced around the room, Jongho’s sharp eyes caught every little detail—the slightly worn-out furniture, the faint scent of home-cooked meals, the single bed pushed against the wall, the small study desk that was clearly YN’s. She didn’t even have her own room.

He didn’t say anything, but YN must have caught the way he was observing everything because she suddenly crossed her arms and looked up at him.

“I know it’s not as big as your fancy apartment,” she said, a teasing edge to her voice, “but you’ll have to adjust.”

Jongho scoffed, shaking his head. “You think I care about that?”

YN blinked. “Don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who has to live here. I’m just visiting.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you wouldn’t survive in a smaller home?”

Jongho leaned against the wall, smirking. “I’m saying you clearly think too much about what I think.”

YN opened her mouth, ready to argue, but before she could say anything, her mother called from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready!”

The conversation was left hanging, but Jongho didn’t miss the way YN shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and walking towards the dining table.

He shook his head, suppressing a small smile as he followed her.

Dinner was… different. Not in a bad way. Just different.

Jongho had expected it to be awkward. Maybe some polite conversation, a few “thank yous,” and then he’d be on his way. But YN’s mother? She was nothing like he expected.

From the moment they sat down, she treated him like he was one of her own.

“Eat more, Jongho. You need to keep up that strength, right?” she said, piling more food onto his plate before he could even respond.

Jongho blinked. “Uh—yeah, I guess.”

YN stifled a laugh as she watched her mother practically adopt him on the spot.

“You must work out a lot,” her mother continued, eyeing his broad frame. “No wonder you’re so strong! You know, YN never brings home any friends. I was starting to think she didn’t have any.”

“Mom!” YN groaned, her face heating up.

Jongho smirked, looking at YN. “Yeah? I’m the first?”

“She never even talks about anyone,” her mother added. “But I can tell she trusts you.”

YN glared at her mom like she just exposed a national secret, while Jongho simply took a bite of his food, feeling… warm.

The conversation flowed so naturally. Her mother asked him about his studies, his life, if he was eating properly, even scolding him a little when he admitted he mostly ordered takeout. She fussed over him in a way no one ever had before.

It was strange. It was new.

But it felt… nice.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt like he had a place at a family dinner. Not just as a guest, but as someone who belonged.

YN noticed. She watched the way Jongho let his guard down, how he actually smiled—a real one, not his usual cocky smirk. It made her feel happy.

He deserved this.

He deserved to feel this warmth.

After dinner, YN grabbed the trash bags and headed outside, leaving Jongho alone with her mother to clean up.

Jongho wasn’t used to doing dishes with anyone—he usually ate alone or with his friends, where everything was chaotic and someone else always handled the cleaning. But standing here, washing dishes beside YN’s mother, it felt… peaceful.

As they worked in comfortable silence, her mother suddenly spoke.

“She didn’t have a great childhood, you know.”

Jongho paused, glancing at her. He had already known that from what YN told him at the hospital, but hearing it from her mother hit differently.

She let out a soft sigh, scrubbing a plate. “I did my best, but… I still feel like I failed her.”

Jongho didn’t know what to say to that. He had never really thought about parents blaming themselves before. His own never did.

“I just want her to be happy,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “She pretends she’s strong, but she’s been through a lot.”

Jongho set down the dish he was holding, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “As long as I’m here, she will be happy.”

Her mother looked up at him, studying his expression. Then, she smiled—soft and knowing.

“I believe you.”

It had been a month since that night at YN’s home, and things between her and Jongho had… changed.

They weren’t enemies. They weren’t exactly friends either. But they had fallen into a routine—one that felt strangely domestic.

Jongho would casually grab an extra coffee for her in the mornings, placing it on her desk with a simple, “You looked half-dead, don’t read too much into it.”

YN, in return, would remind him to eat properly, sometimes even handing him snacks with a nonchalant, “I don’t want you fainting in the gym or something. That’d be embarrassing.”

They walked to class together, studied together, and even sat next to each other during lectures. If Jongho wasn’t around, people would ask YN where he was. And if YN was late, Jongho would just roll his eyes but keep the seat next to him open.

They bickered over stupid things.

“Why are you staring at me?” YN asked one day, feeling his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally were.”

“I was just zoning out,” Jongho huffed, looking away.

Or when YN handed him an umbrella on a rainy day.

“Here,” she said, shoving it into his hands.

Jongho frowned. “I don’t need it.”

“Then get soaked. Not my problem.”

“Then why’d you bring me one?”

“You're too noisy. Shut up and take it.”

They acted like they were just tolerating each other, but everyone else saw the truth.

They were basically a couple.

Just two idiots too stubborn to admit it.

YN felt… different.

It wasn’t something she could explain easily, but it was there—a strange pull toward Jongho. Like a force of nature she had no control over.

And, of course, Hanni wouldn’t shut up about it.

“You’re in love,” Hanni declared one day, arms crossed as if she had just solved the biggest mystery of the century.

YN, horrified, immediately shut her down. “Shut up. No, I’m not.”

“Oh, really?” Hanni smirked. “Then why do you always look out for him?”

“I just—he’s stupid sometimes, I need to make sure he doesn’t die.”

“And why do you get sad when you don’t see him?”

“That’s… that’s normal! I see him all the time, it’s weird when he’s not there.”

“And why do you get weird feelings when you’re together?”

YN froze.

Because that was true.

She did feel weird things when they were together—like her heart deciding to sprint for no reason, or how she found herself staring at him longer than necessary. She noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his voice was deeper when he was tired, and how his hands were always warm even when it was freezing outside.

Oh no.

Hanni grinned, seeing the realization dawn on YN’s face. “Yeah. You’re so in love it’s embarrassing.”

YN groaned, covering her face. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Jongho was losing his mind.

It started subtly—little things he noticed during their daily interactions. Like how small her hands were compared to his when she shoved a snack into his palm. Or how short she was, always tilting her head up to glare at him when they bickered.

And then it got worse.

One day, she was rambling about something, waving her hands dramatically, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to squish her cheeks.

Another time, she got mad at him over something stupid—probably about stealing her drink—and the way her nose scrunched up made his fingers twitch. She looked like an angry little kitten, and he… he was the big bear who wanted to scoop her up and keep her in his arms.

“Are you even listening?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

No. No, he wasn’t.

Because his brain was too busy fighting the cuteness aggression building up inside him.

So instead of answering, he just reached out and flicked her forehead.

“Hey!” she whined, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

Jongho smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. Just felt like it.”

If only she knew it was to stop himself from doing something even worse. Like pinching her cheeks until she smacked him.

He was doomed.

Like when they had gone out for ice cream, and YN, being herself, had managed to make a mess.

She was eating too quickly, and suddenly, a small drop of melted ice cream landed on the tip of her nose.

Jongho stared.

She blinked up at him, confused. “What?”

His grip on his cone tightened.

Was she real? Was this actually happening? Was she actually standing there, looking up at him with big eyes, ice cream on her nose, completely unaware of how devastatingly cute she was?

He exhaled sharply, leaned in, and—

Flick!

She yelped as he wiped the ice cream off with his thumb, scowling at her. “You’re a mess.”

She pouted. “You could’ve just told me.”

Yeah, well, if he had told her, he would’ve also had to admit that he was two seconds away from pinching her cheeks and calling her cute.

So no, thanks.

Or like when YN had forgotten her hair tie, so she dug into her bag and pulled out a tiny, pastel pink hair clip.

Jongho watched as she struggled to keep her hair out of her face with that.

The tiny clip was fighting for its life against her hair, barely holding anything in place. She kept adjusting it, pushing stray strands away with a frustrated huff.

Jongho’s jaw clenched.

It was too much.

The stupid little hair clip, her pouty concentration face, the way she kept huffing when the strands fell back—

Before he could stop himself, he reached out, plucked the clip from her hair, and smoothly tied it up with his own black hair tie which he conveniently had on his wrist.

She blinked at him. “...Oh.”

He crossed his arms. “There. Now you won’t look dumb.”

Her lips parted in offense. “Excuse you! My clip was working just fine—”

Jongho just flicked her forehead again and walked off before she could see the stupid grin threatening to break out on his face.

She was going to kill him one day.

Or worse—he was going to fall harder.

Jongho had always paid attention to the little things. It was something he’d always done, but now it was a bit more… personal.

The way YN would subtly try to avoid the topic of her birthday when it came up, how she’d always change the subject or even just shut it down completely. He never understood it until he saw it written in the corner of her notebook one day, almost as if it was an afterthought—her birthday was coming up.

Something about that made him pause.

He couldn’t help but wonder why she never celebrated it, why she never talked about it. It bothered him more than he realized. No one should feel like that about their birthday. It was supposed to be a day to feel special, to be loved.

But for YN… it didn’t seem that way at all.

YN stepped into Jongho's apartment, not knowing why he suddenly called her, but what she saw made her stop in her tracks. The entire place was decorated—soft, pastel colors, fairy lights hanging delicately from the walls, and small touches of things she liked scattered around the room. It felt like a scene straight out of one of those Pinterest boards she had secretly admired but never thought she'd experience herself.

On the table was a small cake, decorated with cream and flowers—exactly the way she liked it. But what really caught her eye was the little crown placed beside it.

Jongho stood by the door, hands in his pockets, nervously watching her reaction. His heart pounded as he waited for her to say something.

"Jongho..." YN started, her voice barely above a whisper as she took in the effort he’d put into everything. "What is all this?"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed now that she was actually here. "Well... I know you don't like big celebrations, but I thought you'd like something a little special, you know? Something just for you."

She blinked, stunned. "But... this is all for me?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's your birthday, right?" Jongho said casually, though there was a small, nervous grin tugging at his lips.

YN couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her own. She looked around, noticing the little details—soft cushions, a few of her favorite books stacked neatly on the shelf, the little crown, and the cake that seemed to have her name written all over it.

"Why the crown?" she asked, half-laughing, half-teary-eyed.

Jongho shrugged, a little embarrassed. "You deserve to feel like a queen today. No one should ever feel like they don't deserve to be celebrated."

That did it. YN's heart swelled, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. The thoughtfulness behind everything hit her hard. Her birthday had always been a quiet, unnoticed day, but here Jongho was, treating her like she was the most important person in the world.

He stepped forward, holding out the little crown. "Here, your majesty."

YN laughed softly, taking it from his hands and placing it on her head, feeling a warmth in her chest she hadn't expected. "This is... this is too much," she whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"You deserve it," Jongho said, his voice low but warm, his eyes locking with hers in that moment. "Happy Birthday, YN."

Her heart skipped a beat, her emotions rushing to the surface. "Thank you," she whispered back, her voice cracking slightly. She looked at him, her gratitude overflowing. "Thank you for seeing me."

Jongho stepped a little closer, the two of them standing there amidst the cozy decorations, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a warm hue on their faces.

"You’re welcome," he said simply, then took a step back, a playful grin appearing on his face. "Now, let’s eat this cake before I eat all of it myself."

YN laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time, her heart full of warmth from the little moments that had made this birthday unforgettable. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this special—this loved.

Jongho had done it. He had turned her quiet day into a celebration of everything she had ever wanted.

After cutting the cake and sharing a few playful bites, Jongho leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, birthday girl, close your eyes."

YN raised an eyebrow, suspicious but amused. "Why?"

"Just do it," he said, rolling his eyes but still holding that teasing grin.

With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, sitting still as she waited. She could hear him moving around the room, the sound of rustling paper and something being set down on the table in front of her.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice a little softer than before. "You can open them now."

YN opened her eyes—and immediately, her breath hitched.

In front of her was something she never expected but instantly adored—a bouquet of books, beautifully wrapped in soft-colored paper with a ribbon tied neatly around them. Not just any books, but ones she had casually mentioned wanting to read, ones she had stared at in the library but never picked up, ones that he must have noticed her lingering over.

She blinked rapidly, her fingers tracing over the spines as if making sure they were real. "Jongho… you—"

"You like them?" he asked, voice steady but eyes betraying a hint of nervousness.

YN couldn't speak. The warmth in her chest was overwhelming, emotions bubbling up faster than she could control. Instead of answering, she got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

Jongho stiffened for a second, but then, slowly, he relaxed into the hug, his arms coming around her just as tightly.

"You idiot," she mumbled against his hoodie, voice muffled but full of emotion. "This is the best gift ever."

Jongho let out a small chuckle, resting his chin lightly on her head. "Good," he said, a smile forming on his lips. "Because I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was lame."

YN shook her head against him, gripping onto his hoodie tighter. "It's not. It’s perfect."

And for a while, they just stayed like that, wrapped up in warmth and something unspoken between them—something soft, something real. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew.

They were falling, and this time, neither of them wanted to stop.

Jongho felt his heart race when he saw the small blush creeping up her cheeks, her eyes glistening with emotion as they met his. Her gaze lingered, vulnerable yet trusting, and something inside him clicked. All the words he'd been holding back, all the feelings he couldn't quite define-they came rushing forward.

Before he could even think, he cupped her face gently with his hands, tilting her chin up just slightly. She didn't pull away, her breath hitching as she stared at him, her lips parted slightly in confusion.

Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. His heart pounded in his chest as the moment stretched between them-gentle, slow, and full of everything they had been holding back.

YN's breath caught as she froze for a moment, her mind catching up with what was happening. But then, instinctively, she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his chest.

The world around them seemed to disappear as everything fell quiet, just the warmth of their bodies and the undeniable pull between them. Jongho's hand slid to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, and YN's fingers clenched slightly around his hoodie, her heart thumping in her chest.When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Jongho looked down at her, his thumb brushing her cheek as he caught his breath.

"YN," he whispered, his voice rough, "I... I don't know what this is, but I can't stop thinking about you."

YN's heart fluttered at his words, her cheeks still flushed. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, the way his hands were slightly trembling as they stayed gently on her face.

"I think I feel the same," she whispered back, her voice just above a breathless murmur.

His hands were still cradling her face as if she were something fragile—something precious. His usual sharp gaze was softer now, almost uncertain, but there was something firm in the way he held her.

“I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like,” he admitted, his voice low and honest. “But I know that when you’re not around, I don’t like it. And when you are, I feel… lighter. Like I actually want to be better.”

YN’s heart pounded against her ribs, her breath catching at his words.

“I want to stay with you,” he continued, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “If this is what love is, then let it be.”

Her eyes widened slightly, emotions swirling inside her. He was never the type to say things without meaning them, never the type to hesitate. And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, vulnerable and real.

She felt warmth bloom in her chest, something overwhelming yet comforting. Her hands slowly reached up, resting over his.

“Then let it be,” she whispered back, her lips curling into the softest of smiles.

Jongho exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath this whole time. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a second, just taking in the moment.

Neither of them needed to say anything more. They had already said everything that mattered.

After his confession, YN quickly realized one thing—Jongho was insanely clingy. Not in the physical sense, no. He wasn’t the type to smother her with hugs in public or demand constant attention. But mentally? Emotionally? He was all over her.

Her phone never knew peace.

Jongho: Where are you?

Jongho: Why aren’t you answering?

Jongho: You’re not dead, right?

Jongho: Hanni said you left the library 15 minutes ago. Where are you now?

And if she didn’t respond fast enough? Oh, he’d find a way. One time, he literally called Hanni when YN ignored his messages during a movie marathon.

“You’re ignoring my texts,” he accused when she finally picked up.

“I was watching a movie,” she sighed.

“Oh,” he paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because… it’s a movie?”

“Tell me next time.”

YN groaned, but deep down, she found it cute—annoying, but cute.

Another time, she was just grabbing a coffee on campus, and before she could even sit down, she received a message:

Jongho: You didn’t tell me you were going to the café.

She blinked. Looked around. And there he was, sitting at a distance, sipping his own drink while watching her like a hawk.

She marched up to him. “Are you spying on me?”

He raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. “I was here first. You should’ve told me you were coming.”

YN threw her hands up. “I didn’t know I needed permission to get coffee!”

“You don’t,” he said smoothly, “but if you told me, I would’ve gotten your order ready.”

And the worst part? He actually did. Because as she was about to go order, the barista handed her a drink. “Your boyfriend already paid for it.”

Jongho just shrugged at her bewildered expression, sipping his own coffee like nothing happened.

Yeah. He was absolutely clingy. But the way he looked after her, worried for her, cared for her in ways she didn’t even realize she needed?

She wouldn’t change it for the world.

You could never stay mad at him. No matter how much he annoyed you with his endless messages, his possessiveness, or his constant need to know where you were—one look at his big, boba-like eyes, and you were done for.

And he knew it.

That slight smile he had whenever he looked at you? It was because he knew you couldn’t resist him.

Whenever you pouted at him, complaining about how clingy he was, he’d just chuckle, pull you into one of his signature big bear hugs, and squeeze you tight. You always acted like you wanted to escape, but deep down, you never really tried.

And when you were alone? Oh, Jongho had no shame.

He’d squish your cheeks, stretching them like you were some kind of stress toy. “Why are you so cute, huh?” he’d mutter, poking at your puffed-up cheeks.

“Jongho, stop—”

Squish.

“Jongho!”

Squish.

And the moment you’d glare at him, trying to act serious, he’d just lean in and kiss you, completely ignoring your protests.

“Yah—”

Another kiss.

“Stop—”

Another.

And by the time you finally gave up, he’d smirk, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “You talk too much sometimes.”

But you couldn’t even be mad. Not when he was him. Your annoying, possessive, clingy, yet completely lovable Jongho.

Though you and Jongho never officially announced your relationship at college, he made it clear as day that he was yours—and that you were his.

And he had his ways of making sure everyone knew.

Jongho had always been intimidating, but after you two got together, his death glares became ten times worse. If a guy so much as looked at you for too long, Jongho would lock eyes with them from across the room. No words needed—just a single, cold stare, and the poor guy would scurry away like a frightened puppy.

Hanni once joked, "You don't need a security system, girl. Just let Jongho sit outside your dorm and scare people away."

Jongho wasn’t big on PDA, but when it came to making a statement, he had his own subtle ways. A hand on your lower back when guiding you through a crowd. A strong arm thrown over the back of your chair when another guy was getting too friendly. Holding onto the strap of your bag like it was a leash when you were walking together, just so he could keep you close.

The message was clear: Don’t even think about it.

His friends suffered the most. Jongho was always bringing you up in conversation, even when it wasn’t relevant.

“Jongho, pass me the notes.”

"YN already explained it to me. You should ask her—she’s smarter than all of us.”

"Jongho, do you want to come to the gym later?"

"Nah, I'm meeting YN. She gets grumpy if she doesn’t see me enough."

"Jongho, stop flexing your relationship, man—"

"I’m not flexing. I just have a girlfriend who happens to be better than yours."

“…None of us have girlfriends.”

"Exactly.”

The moment that really sealed it?

One day, some guy—clearly new to the college—had the audacity to flirt with you in the cafeteria. Nothing serious, just casual small talk.

Jongho, who had been sitting a few tables away, calmly stood up, strolled over, and without a word, took the spoon from your hand and ate your food from your spoon and even drank water from your cup.

You nearly choked.

The guy looked confused. Hanni was losing her mind in the background. Jongho? He just stared down at the poor guy, smirking slightly.

"Oh, were you saying something?" sitting down, he asked, his voice low and smooth, his arm resting on the back of your chair.

The guy got the message.

Jongho had never been the type to update his Instagram often. His feed was mostly filled with scenic shots—sunsets, cityscapes, the occasional black-and-white aesthetic post. He rarely posted selfies, let alone anything personal.

But now? Now his Instagram was practically a shrine dedicated to you.

It started subtly. A blurry candid of you sipping coffee at a café, captioned: “Not the coffee, just the person.”

Then came the next one—a picture of you reading in the library, chin resting on your palm, completely unaware of the photo being taken. “Genius girlfriend era.”

And then it became a habit.

— A mirror selfie of him at the gym… with you in the background, struggling with a dumbbell. “She’s trying.”

— A plate of food with your hands reaching for it. “I don’t get to eat in peace anymore.”

— A side-profile shot of you laughing. No caption. Just a red heart emoji.

Jongho wasn’t dumb. He knew there were girls lurking in his DMs, waiting for an opening. So he made sure they saw exactly why they had no chance.

Every post? Tagged @yn2001. Every story? Tagged @yn2001. Even in the comments, when someone asked, “Where’s this?”, he’d reply, “With @yn2001.”

Even his bio, which had previously been empty, now had:

“Taken. @yn2001.”

One day, he posted a picture of your intertwined hands, your fingers laced together on top of his lap. No faces, no explanation—just that.

And the caption?

"Mine.”

The DMs? Silent. The message? Loud and clear.

You were never the type to crave attention. Growing up, you had learned to blend into the background, to be self-sufficient. No one had ever really gone out of their way to make you feel special.

But Jongho? He changed everything.

The way he made it so obvious that you were his. How he walked beside you, making sure you were always safe. How his arm would find its way around your shoulders in crowded hallways. How he’d subtly block anyone who got too close.

The Instagram posts were one thing, but it was the little things that made you feel like a princess.

Like when he casually handed you his hoodie when you complained it was cold—without a word, just draping it over you like it was second nature. Or when he adjusted the straps of your bag because “It’s too loose, you’ll hurt your shoulder.”

Or how he always paid attention. If you so much as mentioned craving something, you’d find it mysteriously appearing in your dorm the next day. Kinder Joy? There. Your favorite drink? Waiting for you in class.

And the way he looked at you.

Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

For the first time in your life, you were someone’s priority. And you loved it.

The winter air was biting as you arrived at Jongho’s apartment for the night. He had asked you so politely—almost shyly—that you couldn’t say no.

After dinner, which you cooked while he hovered behind you like a baby bear, occasionally wrapping his arms around your waist or resting his chin on your shoulder, you both settled in for the night.

Jongho sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone while you went to do your skincare routine in the bathroom. You were halfway through when you felt his presence at the door.

"What are you even doing?" he asked, arms crossed as he watched you pat a serum onto your face.

"Skincare," you replied, giving him a pointed look.

He scoffed. "Looks like sorcery to me."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed an extra headband, walking over to him. "Sit."

He raised an eyebrow. "No way."

"You asked me to stay over. This is part of the deal," you said with a smirk.

With a grumble, he let you pull him onto the bathroom stool. You pushed back his hair with the headband, suppressing a giggle at how unexpectedly adorable he looked with it on.

"Don't laugh," he muttered, glaring.

"I'm not!"

You squeezed some cleanser onto your hands and started rubbing it into his face. He blinked rapidly at the sudden sensation, grabbing your wrist.

"What the hell—"

"Relax, big guy. Just let it happen."

He huffed, but let you continue. His face was surprisingly soft under your fingertips, and for a moment, you were lost in the closeness of it. Jongho, however, was glaring at his reflection.

"Feels weird," he grumbled.

You chuckled. "You’ll thank me later when your skin is glowing."

After washing off the cleanser, you moved on to toner and serum, explaining each step. Jongho just sat there, staring at you with those soft, unreadable eyes.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away.

But his ears were red.

By the time you finished with moisturizer, he was pouting. "Feels sticky."

You flicked his forehead. "Beauty is pain."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you when you applied lip balm on him, his lips parting slightly at the contact.

"All done," you declared, stepping back to admire your work.

Jongho looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his face slightly. "Huh… not bad."

"Told you."

He turned to you, a sly grin forming. "So if I have good skin now, does that mean I get more kisses?"

You gaped at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Jongho!"

But he was already pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into you.

"Thanks, princess," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

And just like that, your heart was gone.

You sighed, sitting on the edge of Jongho’s bed, your fingers idly playing with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. He had just finished brushing his teeth, stepping into the room with his usual confident ease. His damp hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp eyes softened when they landed on you.

He tilted his head, noticing your hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. “I sleep weird.”

Jongho blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “What do you mean weird?”

“I mean…” You sighed again, fidgeting with your hands. “I move a lot in my sleep. I might—” You glanced at him briefly before looking away. “I might throw my leg over you. Or shove my feet under yours. Or, you know, hug you.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

For a second, he just stared at you before a small, amused scoff left his lips. “That’s it? I thought you were about to say something serious.”

You frowned. “It is serious.”

He crossed his arms, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “What, you think I’m gonna throw you off the bed?”

“No, but—”

“You can do whatever you want. It won’t bother me.”

That was a lie. Jongho never liked being hugged in his sleep. He never liked people clinging to him or invading his space while he rested. It had always felt suffocating, and he never hesitated to shove someone off if they got too close.

But you? You were different.

So when you eventually curled up beside him, shifting in your sleep and unconsciously draping your arm over his waist, he didn’t push you away. When your leg tangled with his, searching for warmth, he let it be. And when, in your sleep, you tucked your cold feet under his, he only let out a small huff, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

What surprised him the most was the way he naturally responded. Without thinking, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking small circles into your skin through the fabric of your sweatshirt.

You sighed in content, unconsciously burrowing into his chest. Jongho glanced down at you, his lips twitching at the sight of you so comfortably nestled against him.

If it were anyone else, he would’ve been annoyed, but with you…

With you, he found himself pressing a lazy, almost absentminded kiss to your forehead before resting his chin atop your head.

Yeah. He loved this.

Divider from @/cafekitsune

[holy-ghost-fire]

"They’re both problems and it’s funny you think the government funding media is less of a problem."

Please explain to me how a media outlet that is owned by a major corporation is somehow better than a media outlet funded by the government. I'm not saying that we should have privately owned media outlets but pretending like the conflict of interest is more egregious for NPR over NBC, CNN, or Fox is just ridiculous. Its even more laughable when you find out 90% of media outlets are owned by six corporations. Corporations are beholden to no one except their shareholders, don't ever forget that.

"You only say this because Fox is the only mainstream media that isn’t hard left so you’ve been programmed by left wing propaganda to call it fascist even though you don’t know what fascism is."

Look dude, I used to think just like you so the irony of you assuming I'm just a liberal is funny on a lot of levels. I don't throw out the term "fascist" to anyone I disagree with but Fox News has openly promoted extremist talking points for years. Tucker Carlson's show, which many viewers loved and wish it was still on the air, was full of dogwhistles for white supremacists. You don't know what to look for so you don't pick up on the kinds of references and phrases that give it away. I don't watch Fox on a daily basis (obviously) but from what I do see, its still a blatantly partisan outlet that only serves to spread extremist rhetoric to the general public.

"I mean the whole reason you guys freaked out when he bought Twitter was because he wasn’t going to be silencing people anymore so first, don’t pretend you suddenly care about censorship and two, censorship isn’t even what is happening here."

You guys really do just accept what Elon says without questioning it. I know he claimed to be a free speech advocate but Musk has been more than willing to censor people he doesn't agree with on X. As for the Reuters/Musk situation, its much deeper than just the tweet. Reuters has actually won a Pulitzer Price for its in-depth coverage of Tesla and SpaceX. I know you'll just say they're plotting against Elon but the fact that neither you nor Musk can come up with a reasonable response to their series of articles says a lot. When your only response is to slander their credibility, you don't look like the credible one here.

"DOGE is cutting wasteful spending and the cuts are happening in places we’re we’ve known for a long time there has been wasteful spending."

If corruption and graft are that common that DOGE actually found it, prove it. Again, you people take Musk at his word every single time he says his team uncovered wasteful spending and there's nothing he's provided that actually corroborates it. There's no transparency with Musk or DOGE, they just play on your assumption that all government spending is bad and that government orgs created by Democrats are automatically corrupt.

"You are making that up because you don’t understand what’s really happening and you trust the government way too much."

I'm going to say this again but I want to make you understand where I'm coming from. I actually used to be a Republican for a long time. I voted for Trump and supported him for most of his first term in office. To this day, I haven't voted for the Democratic presidential nominee. Hell, I used to argue just like you back in the day on this very blog. I've gotten into way too many of these debates and I know exactly how they go so instead of being snarky, I'm going to offer some advice.

I know you think you have me and my political views figured out after one post but I want you to understand that it doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to assume my beliefs or stereotype anyone who criticizes Trump. The most important thing I can tell you is to keep an open mind. You don't have to follow the party line or believe everything that Trump says. You don't even need to believe everything I say, just read and think critically about everything you hear and believe.

[pleasantspark]

VivziePop might be a (Neo Nazi) and here's why.

Disclaimer

I usually don't make high claims about these types of things and this is actually based on vibes I got, until she properly actually comes out with a explanation these are mere speculation and not concrete.

This is a more transcript coded post for my upcoming video and series I will be making titled the VivziePop Chronicles.

Now if you disagree or find this completely false it's fine. But I'm no Lily Orchard who based things off of ONE thing that they created in the sense of coincidences.

Once again. Here's a reminder to not send hate to ANYONE talked about.

What are Nazis

Nazis are a hate group symbolized by specific hate towards Jewish people in particular. They are a group of people who mainly hate on everything but their own kind.

Led by Adolf Hitler. Nazis had committed grave crimes in the name of being seen as superior to the Jewish Race. Sending Jewish people to concentration camps where they were either gassed or straight up experimented on.

There was some Jewish people that escaped before Hitler did anything and or hid (The well known case in Anne Frank.)

But as of now Hitler is dead and had committed suicide. But don't let that fool you. Just because the main ringleader of this extreme hate crime is dead doesn't mean Nazi symbolism had died out.

What are Neo-Nazi's?

Neo-Nazi's are a hate group subgroup of the main Nazi's, the reason why it's called Neo-Nazi's is to seperate the main group from this group. Neo-Nazi's are Post-Nazism and wanting to bring back that sentiment thus neo-nazi.

An example of a Neo-Nazi is the Furry Raiders, a group lead by Foxlr Nightglove who (and I shit you not.) has an armband of a paw.

Neo Nazi's oftentimes spreads racist, sexist, xenophobic and uses harmful rhetroic in order to insult the people they hate, this and combined with the Alt-Right makes a terrible mix.

Incident One: Nazi OC's

In around the early 2010s Sausage Party took everyone by surprise. People assumed (if they never heard of it before or atleast saw the box cover.) that it was for kids but when you open it and placed it in the disk tray, you're in for a surprise.

Sausage Party is an ezample of "Animation is for everyone." so this relates to VivziePop, around that time. I presume possibly before or during Sausage Party's release, Viv created the Nozz-Arts Blog.

Currently, the Blog was not archived but images made during that time we're screenshotted. Such as:

(Note the art trade she did with this person is called and I kid you not, ihatejewce.)

Then to tie it all here's something I found that compared the two.

And finally here's her talking about the Sausage Party Studio.

Before you say. "Oh this has happened ONCE!" well...

Incident Two: Mimzy and Confrontation

Around the time of the full release of Hazbin Hotel, a Jewish User had decided to speak out against the blatant Anti-Semitism. Posting information about Viv's obvious anti-semtism and (releasing the screenshots regarding NozzArts) and pointing out Mimzy being an offense charactiure on Jewish People (Not to mention Rosie who is a jewish stereotype that is a cannibal.)

(Also as a bonus have a yellow racist charactiure of Niffty.)

Another thing that people seldom doesn't realize is Mimzy's design BEFORE the integration into Hazbin.

This is her current design.

Old Design.

Viv has responded to the Allenazations by stating:

She was uncomfortable which is BS, because she doesn't care about people being uncomfortable so why should WE?

Incident Three: "Subhuman"

The final nail in the coffin was Viv liking a tweet that referred to Criticals as "Subhuman"

Before you ask why it's linked to Nazism, here it is.

These things are limited but not include:

Mentally Disabled People

Handicapped People

People who don't fit Hitler's Critera

Speaking of Hitler's Criteria, this might be a stretch butttt.

I've noticed the red and blonde things too often and I realized that most characters (I.E. Abel, Lilith, Charlie and Lucifer) all have blonde hair, Lucifer and Charlie has red eyes, and what's a inverse of red?

Blue, and when you put blonde and blue together?

Hitler. He loved them.

But then again Viv couldn't have done this shit on purpose because everyone KNOWS Color Theory and it's awfully close to Blue.

Conclusion

This is an allegation, not a full scale proof she is one, but as I say

"Once is by chance. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern."

You don't wake up one day and decide to unironically make a Nazi OC, you don't decide to subconsciously make a character be obsessed with money, have a tattoo of Mammon (Symbolism of greed and also whose fat, considering OG Bible's Jewish then we can also count that as Anti-Semitism) and blantly say she's a chicken and you certainly DON'T just like a tweet calling most of the critical (Some are Jewish and Mentally ill) subhuman. You tried to save face by stating all those bad guys cease to exist but we all know that's false, now is it.

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror............Part XV

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length)

Summary: The chaos surrounding the death of Macrinus keeps Letha and Geta apart much longer than either of them expected. Geta has an urgent question for Letha.

Warnings: make-up sex, and a shitty understanding of ancient Roman procedures around rule, 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 15 of 15!

[ Part XIV ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: I would like to preface this by saying thank you for reading this self-indulgent slop. I hope you got some small amount of enjoyment out of it. Your comments along the way kept me engaged enough to actually finish this. It's the first thing I've ever started writing that I actually feel like I finished. There's so much I could've added to this post-reunion that this would've never been done. I could always embellish at a later date if anyone wanted it. I'm also a bit sad to finish this because I don't have anything to look forward to now. Thank you for your time and attention. It means a lot.

Also, mea lux is 'my light' I believe.

Almost two weeks passed before Letha laid eyes on Geta again.

It was prevented by a combination of things. There had been so much to deal with after the incident in the gardens. Geta had been embroiled in meetings, debating things Letha wasn’t privy to. There was a ceremony for Ancus, to honor him for his efforts to protect his Emperors. And at every party, everyone was so desperate to show face to their Emperors, to remind them of their loyalty in wake of the exposure of Macrinus’s plot. 

Though she wasn’t invited to any official meetings or ceremonies, there were situations where she could’ve sought Geta out at these fetes and events. But she didn’t. She was scared to have that conversation that needed to happen. 

She knew she was still treated as a guest in the palace. More like a fixture, really, available to distract Caracalla whenever the burden of rule grew too tiresome with more poetry, read under the shade of a tree in the gardens, Ancus always nearby. But aside from that, she felt quite restless. 

It’s not as if she expected things to go back to how they were, but she didn’t think it would be this hard to put her thoughts together. Leaving the gardens that evening, neck still sore, she was imagining how she’d look over at Geta the next morning and fervently apologize, for all of it. She’d tell him she would understand if he sent her away, and he would assure her that he wouldn’t dream of it.

But the next morning she couldn’t leave her bed, paralyzed by this new fear. She’d gotten a chance to see what her relationship with Geta could be, she didn’t know what she would do if it was not that. And the possibilities he’d promised her most certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t happen anymore. She stewed in the hesitance, the uncertainty, until she became convinced that it absolutely would be different. No matter what different meant, she was sure it wouldn’t be good.

And so it continued, Letha skipping mealtimes that used to be routine, bumping into servants gossiping on her way into the kitchens to eat. Occasionally she heard her name on their tongues, her appearance causing them to freeze as if Letha were Medusa herself. Not wanting to make a scene, she’d just duck right back out, resolving to return later.

Caracalla assured her his brother was just being kept very, very busy in the wake of the subterfuge and death of Macrinus, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was a little intentional. 

What did you expect, honestly?

She didn’t know why she was still allowed to wander the palace, as if she were back to being a guest. There were no guards posted outside her room, and for the last week she spent her evenings in the gardens, observing the moon, asking no one in particular what happens next.

She wasn’t naive, she knew Tegula didn’t trust her. And nothing spread faster than a salacious rumor. They weren’t so foolish as to speak poorly of their Emperor, so they resorted to tarnishing her reputation instead. She was a witch, had steered Macrinus to his end, was desperate to attach herself to the divinity the Emperors were entitled to.

It was ridiculous. If she had such powers, she sure wouldn’t have suffered all this. 

It was all just more fuel for her suppositions, perpetuating her unhappy cycle until she felt like it would be better if she just snuck out one night. She could become a ghost story. But against all odds, she still carried hope that the next day would be different. 

As for Geta, well, Geta was trying to prevent an economic collapse. Some part of him thought Letha might think poorly of him if he let the empire fall around them because he would rather be locked up in his rooms, curled up in her. Because that was what he wanted. But he had a duty, a responsibility to steer this monstrous empire in a direction he could have heirs in. Perhaps the danger had put things into perspective.

Listening to the senators describe just how involved Macrinus had been in arming their voracious armies became more and more painful as they dove into the minutiae of complex accounts and processes he never bothered to pay attention to before. It was overwhelming. But he knew their efforts were working. Still, there were moments where he’d trade it all for those eyes on him again. 

What little free time he had was spent trying to avoid Letha, because he needed hours, days, uninterrupted, for him to spill his heart to her. A few minutes here and there wouldn’t be enough to relay any of the complex emotions he felt. He couldn’t avoid her forever, though, because there was a certain conversation that had to happen. He needed to know where he stood with her before he picked a particular path to tread down.

So that was why he stalked the gardens that evening, waiting for her to appear for her nightly stargazing. And as he watched her spread out the emerald-dyed linen on the grass, he felt calm. Almost peaceful. He let himself forget the weight of all that had happened, the guilt, too. Everything they’d all been through. 

Well, not everything.

“You should have run far away from here,” Geta spoke, disturbing her peace. 

Letha looked over her shoulder, her breath held in her lungs as she appraised him. It almost felt like the first time. The first time she saw him and admitted against her better judgment that he was beautiful.

The moonlight glinted off the laurels and the golden chestplate he still wore, though the ceremony had long been over. His hair was shiny, neat, framing his fair face. His deep, dark eyes, still lined in crimson, were locked on her.

He looked close to divine standing there in the golden armor, easily one of the most opulent things she’d ever seen. He somehow looked taller, broader, in the armor. Untouchable, too. 

It was so late in the evening, he should’ve changed. He should be in bed. Anywhere but here.

No more hiding. 

“I was locked in a cell, I wasn’t running anywhere.”

He surprised her by sitting beside her on the blanket, the ceremonial armor quite uncomfortable to lay down in. He kept his arms slung around his knees, the bindings of the tall sandals flexing over his shins as he joined her in staring up at the large moon.

“What about after?” After Macrinus. “You’ve had no chaperone for well over a week now.”

Letha felt her stomach twist. “I’ve thought about it.”

“But?” Geta supplied, turning his head away from the splendor of the night sky to peer down at her where she laid out beside him. A challenger to the celestial might hanging above.

“You know there would be no point.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I do?”

She rolled her eyes, a treasonous activity if done by any other, but it filled Geta with warmth, bringing the beginnings of a smile to his lips. It all felt so familiar.

“There’s something that is keeping me here. Besides the fact I wouldn’t last a day out there with nowhere to go.”

“I dared to hope,” he admitted, taking her own admission and shoving it into the cracks that were slowly mending, a makeshift mortar.

She looked over at him, a line forming between her brows as she studied him, thinking very hard about what to say next. He reached down with a finger, gently pressing at the center of her brows, pushing away the line.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, the pressure of his closeness becoming overwhelming. 

“No,” he shook his head, moving his finger lower to press to her lips, silencing any further unnecessary apologies. “It is forgiven.”

Letha felt relief, could feel a tear forming at the corner of her eye. But she didn’t want to cry, not now. She recalled her apology muttered into his hair that day. He’d told her ‘no’ then too. 

“Do you still care for me?” he asked, his voice low.

“Of course I do,” she whispered, feeling the tear slide down the side of her face. 

He noticed it, moving his fingertip to wipe away the trail before resting his hand on the ground beside her head. He licked his lips, staring at her, all his weight bearing down, as if daring himself to collapse onto her. 

As much as he might have enjoyed frolicking beneath the stars, removing this armor was not a graceful job, even for two. 

“I want to show you something.” He pushed off the ground and sat up, the haze of him dispersed. She made herself sit up, kept her eyes on him as he stood up. He could feel a swarm of bees in his stomach moving angrily as he held a hand out for her to help her to her feet.

There was a split second of indecision and he nearly faltered, but her tight grip on his hand was a balm, immediately settling his nerves. As she leaned down to gather up the blanket, he tugged her hand, urging her to leave it. 

Geta  lifted the small chest off his desk and carried it over to where Letha sat on the side of the chaise in his room. It sank into the plush seat and she looked up at him, surprised. 

“It’s quite heavy.”

“I can manage just fine,” he smiled, his teasing tone returning.

It was so easy to get caught up in his magnetism. She wondered if he knew he possessed such a thing.

“Go on,” he urged. “Open it.”

She obeyed, pushing up the lid, exposing a rich ruby interior, the box created to house this one ornate bauble. Laurels, golden and sparkling. There were small, dazzling red gems hidden among the leaves here and there.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, reaching in to run a finger along one of the gilded leaves. “Seems a bit small for you,” she admitted.

“It is,” he confirmed. 

“Well I think Caracalla will love it,” she smiled, lowering the lid. “It’s a thoughtful gift.”

Geta reached down, pulling it back open. There was a look in her eyes that gave him pause, all the smiles and teasing forgotten. As if she knew already what he was about to say. To ask.

“It’s not for my brother.”

His words sent an icy chill down the center of her back, forcing her to sit up a bit straighter. He was already moving away, pacing.

“I have been busy, Letha,” he admitted. “I’ve spent more time with the senators than I can possibly stand. And in exchange for those long hours, I got this.”

“Geta, I—”

“Don’t feel like you need to say yes right now. Just promise me you will think on it. I know these last couple of weeks have been difficult, we’ve had a hell of a time trying to navigate—”

Letha stood and walked over to him as he rambled. She reached up and curled her fingers around the collar of the chestplate, pulling him down by it, pressing her lips to his. 

Geta recognized the action immediately, bringing one of his hands up to cover hers where she held the armor, moaning against her lips. He pulled her in by the small of her back with his free hand. Her necklace clattered against the metal plate until it was muffled by the press of her against him. 

He could not get near enough air into his lungs. He felt dizzy, incoherent, his blood at once diluted but also thickened, leaving his limbs feeling heavy with a honeyed sludge passing through his veins. The pressure of her hauling him down to her eager mouth by the bronze plate persisted in his brain, in his gut, and he suspected he would relive it for the rest of time. 

“Letha,” he breathed, his palm pressing to her heated cheek. “You can take time,” he offered, though he would be lying if he said he was satisfied with this and nothing more.

“I’ve taken it,” she replied quickly, releasing the armor. 

Before the dissatisfaction crept in, he felt her fingers at his side, brushing the underside of his arm that he immediately lifted. She worked at the buckle, pulling the leather free before moving down to the woven golden string keeping both halves together. 

Once his brain caught up to hers, he pulled at the cords holding the pauldrons over his shoulders, the both of them picking up speed as an unspoken sense of urgency grew in the silence. It all hit the floor with a loud clattering, the pteruges joining it not long after. 

Free from the weight of the heavy armor, Geta reached for Letha’s neck, pulling her into him, groaning against her lips as he attempted to make up for lost time.

As he held her, he realized she was working herself out of her dress. It was bunched up on her shoulders by the time he looked down. The next chance she got, the two of them needing air, she threw it off over her head. 

“I would have gotten to that,” he breathed, allowing himself to look her over. 

“Like I said, I’ve taken it.” she spoke with intention. He felt it low in his belly.

She got to spend only a moment more on her feet before he collected her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She let out a laugh as she sank into the plush arrangement of silks and pillows. He stared down at her, feeling that blooming of warmth in his chest that only she gave him.

 “What are you waiting for?”

As the words left her lips, Geta threw off the white tunic and joined her, crawling up her body to seal his lips to hers, finally allowing the weight of him to press her down into the bed. He had missed this. Her skin, already hot beneath his hands, her movements only drawing him in further, seeking his touch, his lips.

It had been a long couple of weeks.

He felt her bring a leg up around his hip and he reached for it, fingers digging into her thigh as he rutted against her. The ragged moan that left his throat said more about his desperation than anything else.

The tension in his arm trying to hold him up off of her was too much to ignore. He turned onto his side, clinging to her thigh, slowly bringing her with him until he was on his back. As she settled in this new position, she looked down where they met, a bashful smile on her face.

He couldn’t deny the wonder that overtook him at the sight of her above him, the way her mussed hair hung around her face, a few strands now loose. She was radiant, even in the night. Her nervous smile took hold in his chest, and he knew then that he would make it his goal to continue to find ways to draw that same smile from her. 

“I missed you,” she admitted, eyes cast down to the expanse of his torso beneath her hands. “I thought we might never…”

“Letha, you possess me.” Her eyes widened, her body frozen in his hands. “I think that was why it hurt so much to be separated from you.” He shifted his hips, forcing heat into her cheeks. “And I owe you an apology.”

“It is forgiven,” she insisted.

He shot her a look. “I could have lost you. It was cruel and impulsive.”

“We are fortunate your brother had the good sense to intervene, then.”

“Please, do not speak of my brother right now,” he pleaded, squeezing her thighs. 

She laughed at him, covering his hands with hers. “Let me distract you,” she offered, bringing his hands up higher, his fingers skimming her belly before she pressed his palms into her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his hands squeezing her soft skin. 

She ground herself down on him, using him, the sight filling him with desire for her. How he ever got pleasure from anyone else, he could never know. This was all he ever needed. He could only thank the gods, the fates, whoever brought her to him. 

She surprised him as she swung her leg over him, leaving him there in the bed, a pathetic whine leaving his throat as the air hit his slick-wet cock.

Letha felt a bit unsteady on her feet as she walked through his room. She was ready to show him that she would take on the mantle, the responsibility of keeping him sated and happy. 

Possessed him? She would never get over it. 

She found the chest and lifted the lid, reaching down for the delicate crown. Even in the dim light it sparkled. Her prize in hand, she set it on her head and nearly sprinted back to Geta.

He still laid in the middle of his bed, a vision of long limbs and pale flesh. At the sound of her feet padding on the floor he craned his neck, his large brown eyes passing over her, lingering on her head, where the crown sat precariously.

His full lips parted in a grin. “Eager to fulfill your duty, Empress?” he questioned, his voice low with desire. He held his hands out for her, helping her return to her place astride his hips. 

“Do you like it?” she asked a bit bashfully, her hands leaving his to steady the crown in her hair.

He let out a deep breath. “Mea lux,” he smiled, reaching up to pull her down to his chest, “you spoil me.” He stole a kiss from her lips before he reached up to adjust the crown so it would sit more securely on her head. She leaned into every touch, relishing the sensation of his large hands on her skin, skimming, gripping, squeezing.

She was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t notice him preparing to shove into her, her only warning a quick swipe of him through her slick. They let out matching sighs as he filled her, like this was all they needed. Letha sat up, a hand pressed against his abdomen for support as she reacclimated to him. 

“W-What exactly are the duties of an Empress, Geta?” she asked. His hips snapping up forcing a wanton moan to leave her lips. 

His flush extended from his face and ears down to his chest. “Besides the obvious?”

She nodded, shifting her hips, moving on instinct, eager for relief. 

He grunted, letting his head fall back. “Well,” he began, bucking his own hips up slightly to reward her. “You will sit with me in all the boring meetings. We will suffer together.” 

“Mhmm,” she moaned, nodding. “I can do that.”

“You will advise me, keep me in line,” he grunted. “Tell me when I’m being a fool.”

“I will relish every chance I get,” she grinned, chasing her pleasure.

“Don’t look so excited,” he chuckled, biting his lip. 

She felt her thighs burning, but she didn’t dare stop, the coil pulling ever tighter. “What else?”

“You will guard my heart, Letha,” he breathed, his eyes meeting hers.

Her hips stilled. 

Geta flipped them, bringing his face down to hers. She ran her hands up his sides, over his shoulders, tangling in his hair as he kissed her. She relaxed beneath him, her legs wrapping around his hips as he drove into her at a steady pace. 

“Can you do that?” he asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Haven’t I been already?” 

He blinked down at her, absorbing her words. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed, pulling his face down to hers.

In the kiss, he quickened his pace. She felt like she was falling apart in his hands, unable to form more words. He reached down between them, his fingers finding home in the apex of her thighs, his nose brushing against hers as he urged her to her release.

She clung to him desperately, choked gasps leaving her throat as he pressed his lips against it. She clenched around him, the coil finally snapping and giving way for her hard-earned release. He pushed her through it, her hands squeezing his hips in an effort to slow him down, too sensitive. 

He sat up, pulling her to him by her hips, grunting as he pounded into her.

“Is giving you an heir part of my duties as well?”

He laughed. “Not a requirement, but–” He cut himself off, burying himself in her as he fell on top of her, pulsing into her. “–a perk.”

He settled on top of her, his lips pressing to hers before he buried his face in the side of her neck. She held him close, running fingers up and down his back, enjoying the warmth of him despite all the sweat. 

“I would stay like this forever,” she sighed, trying to fight off the exhaustion she felt. The last thing she wanted to do was sleep now that she had him back.

“I have no pressing business for two days, mea lux. You’re not leaving this room,” he spoke into her skin. “And when we do, we will be wed.”

She felt nervous, but optimistic. “Should we not have waited until after for this then?”

He lifted his head, his warm eyes settling on hers. Full of love and mirth. “Oh, no, dear Letha. I believe you said you have already taken your time to think,” he winked, “and I would not deprive my Empress of anything.”

[ fin ]

Thank you for reading!

[starrihan]

Resist (Taehyun Fic)

-> Pairing: toxic! Taehyun x self sabotaging!Reader

-> Plot: your self-sabotaging tendencies keep you tied to your toxic ex, but how can you resist was the sex is just so good?

-> Genre: smut, angst, mean dom! Taehyun, bratty sub! Reader, toxic! Taehyun x toxic! Reader, piv sex, no protection (wrap it up), oral (f receiving), slight public intimacy (?), reader is tipsy while Taehyun is sober, hair pulling, cursing

-> Ft.: Chaeryoung and Yeji of ITZY

-> Warnings: a little blood

-> Word Count: 4,235

-> Notes: Happy late birthday to Taehyun!!! I really wanted to post this on his actual birthday but I got so busy but this is the second part to my Sanctuary series! i hope you guys enjoy toxic! Taehyun as much as I do. semi-proofread. i have been writing this for weeks but i've just been so busy that I've been putting out shorter works that took a lot less brainpower to write.

This TikTok is perfect for this fic

༄ ༄ ༄

The constant push-and-pull of your toxic relationship with your ex boyfriend was not something that you enjoyed, but rather something you very much craved. Why couldn’t you move on and heal like a normal person? Why did you keep subjecting yourself to this torture? Why couldn’t you resist?

It’s not like he cared about you or your feelings either. If he did, you wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place, his head between your thighs for the third night this week. 

“T-taehyun, slow down…”

He was eating you out like a man starved, as if he wasn’t doing this very thing the day before, relentless as his tongue constantly lapped at your juices. He just hums against your lips, waving off your concerns and he quickly makes you approach your orgasm. Grabbing a fistful of his hair you grind up into his face, his nose hitting your clit to give you the most pleasure. 

“Fuck, Taehyun,”

You say as you arch your back off the bed, orgasm coursing through you in waves. He licks up any excess juices while you catch your breath. 

“Think you can handle just a little bit more?” 

He says, unbuckling his belt and pulling off his jeans and boxers, dick hard and ready to pound into you. 

“What am I saying? Of course you can. You always were a little slut for my cock,”

His arrogance is one thing you didn’t miss about him. He lines up his dick with your entrance, barely giving you time to recover before fully pushing into you, bottoming out as your nails dig into his toned biceps. Your mouth hangs open at the intrusion, throat failing to produce a moan. 

He was right though, you always were ready for him at any point of the day. So hungry for his touch, the way he, no matter how bratty you were, always made you cum at least once before having his way with you. You would do anything to have his cock in you, and you both knew it. Even going as far as keeping him in your life despite the way he tries to control you, always demanding to know where you are or what your plans are. 

He pounds your hole deliciously, letting out little grunts here and there at how tight or wet you were. You could barely even look him in the eyes with how good he was giving it to you. 

“Hey. Eyes on me or I’m not moving, got it?”

You nod your head as he stills, opening your eyes to make eye contact with him and whining when he doesn’t continue even after you’ve obeyed his commands. He clenches your jaw firmly,

“What? My cock made you dumb already? Answer me, slut. Got it?” 

“Yes! I got it, please move!”

You’re begging as he lets go of your jaw, bringing your legs over his shoulders and deeply thrusting into you, tip hitting your cervix at the new angle. Your moans are replaced with screams as this new angle draws you closer to your second release. He can tell by the way that you’re clenching that you’re close. He dips his head down, kissing and biting all down your neck and chest, leaving bright red marks in their wake. Your voice breaks as you cum again, this time much harder than the last. He scoffs,

“You’re pathetic, ya know that?” 

He pushes into you a couple more times, releasing his load into your spent hole before pulling out, watching as a mix of both of your cum seeps out. You’re left laying in your bed, breath ragged as he cleans himself up, putting his pants on and throwing you a wet wipe to clean yourself up. You slowly wipe yourself down, wincing at the slight pain between your legs. 

“I’m busy tomorrow so don’t ask me to come over.” 

He says coldly before leaving you there, naked and alone. 

༄ ༄ ༄

The next day, you’re set to meet up with your friend, Chaeryeong for a little study date. As you’re getting ready you check yourself out in the mirror, noticing all the hickeys he’s left on your neck from the night before. Seething at the idea that he effectively marked you up like you’re still his to claim, you calm yourself down and find something to hide all the marks. Hoping a little color corrector and concealer will do the trick, you sling your bag over your shoulders, walking into the cold winter air, shivering as you walk to the cafe to meet Chaeryeong. Upon seeing her, you find two drinks waiting at the table. 

“Chaer, you're too sweet! Buying my drink for me? I love you,”

She stands up to give you a hug, laughing as you both sit down. You take off your jacket as you get comfortable, sipping at the hot latte that instantly warms you up from the inside. 

“I knew you would need it after the last few days you’ve had. You still let Taehyun do a number on you, huh?”

She says, gesturing to the slightly visible bruising still found on your neck. 

“Fuck, I thought I covered that up.”

You curse as you cover your neck with your hand, pulling your ear muffs over your neck to hide them. 

“Why are you still hooking up with him? He treats you like shit and you two broke up months ago. Why do you keep torturing yourself?”

You sigh knowing her words are coming from a place of genuine concern for your well being. Also because you didn't have an answer yourself. You didn't know why you kept going back to him, asking him for sex or always dropping everything when he asked you for it. 

“I don’t know. I’m just drawn to him. I just can’t say no.”

He always had this effect on you. Ever since you first started dating and things were still cute and sweet, whenever sex was mentioned you two were animals ready to pounce on each other. You just couldn't resist one another. Even after your breakup, your sexual chemistry was just too perfect to give up. You were afraid that you wouldn’t find anyone who could bring you feeling even half as much pleasure as Taehyun could bring you. 

“You’re being self-destructive again. He’s just using you for sex but you still like him, despite the way he treated you. You have Stockholm Syndrome.”

You chuckled at her joke but you couldn’t deny her point. 

“Alright, alright, can we get away from my destructive tendencies for a bit and focus on this exam we have to study for?” 

She just let the topic be, knowing that you didn’t like to talk about it but she just wanted to express her concern for you. 

༄ ༄ ༄

After your study session, Chaeryeong mentions a little party that her sorority is throwing, inviting you in hopes that you show up.

“A party? This weekend? I don’t know Chaer, I have a lot of work to do and we have that exam on Monday…”

“It's only Thursday and the party is Saturday night! If you lock in these next few days you should be fine! Please Y/N! I really want you to be there!”

You’re contemplating still, about to turn her down when you really think about it. A party at a sorority? Taehyun is bound to be there. You feign a perplexed look to hide the smirk trying to creep up your face.

“Oh, alright. I’ll come! But only because you bought me a latte today.”

You both laugh as you head back to your respective dorms. You felt bad about lying to her about the true reason behind your attendance, but you brush it off before you let your guilty conscience get the best of you. You decide that you need to get all your work done as soon as you can so you can actually attend the party on Saturday. You’re about to open your laptop when you get a message on your phone.

Dick Appointment😒:

coming over, leave your door unlocked

Looking at the message, you’re tempted to do as he says, thighs already rubbing together at the thought of him on top of you. But you think about Chaeryeong and all the work and exams you have to study for, deciding that your awaiting work is more important than getting dicked down. 

You:

thought you were busy today?

You knew your response would only be met with bitterness, but it was fun to mess with him whenever you could. But you really didn’t need him to come over.

Dick Appointment 😒:

coming over there to fuck that nasty attitude out of you

You:

can’t, have a lot of work to get done before this saturday 

Dick Appointment 😒:

why saturday? 

You roll your eyes as he blatantly ignores your need to get your work done. But what did you expect from someone who barely cared about you in the first place?

You:

going out with Chaeryeong and some friends, why do you care?

He reads the message but never responds, not that you’re surprised because he always loses interest as soon as the conversation shifts away from sex. Whatever, you had work to get done and you couldn’t afford any more distractions. 

༄ ༄ ༄

Saturday rolls around and you find yourself getting ready early, a reward for getting all your work done and having studied a good amount for your upcoming exam. You hadn’t gone out in a while so you took this chance to get all dolled up, partly because you wanted to look good for yourself, but mostly because you wanted Taehyun to find you irresistible, not that he didn’t already. He might act like a dick but it was you who he always came back to, right? That was the mindset you went into the night with, anyway. 

Finally ready to go out, you texted Chaeryeong that you were on your way. Upon arriving at the sorority house, you were met by an excited, already drunk Chaeryeong who hugged you while jumping up and down. 

“It always surprises me that you can get even more bubbly when you’re drunk.”

“You can say that again.”

You heard a familiar voice. You recognized the girl to be Yeji, one of Chaeryeong’s sorority sisters. 

“Yeji! It’s so good to see you again!.”

You give each other a hug before they let you in, handing you a shot to take with them. After taking a couple shots over the span of an hour, your body had loosened up, dancing with Chaeryeong and some of her friends as the alcohol coursed through your bodies. As you were dancing, you glance at the front door, a familiar group of boys catching your attention. Taehyun eyes you immediately, heading towards you. 

“We need to talk,”

His voice is stern and every bone in your body wanted to pull away from him, wanting to act out to see how he’d react. But you let him pull you away, assuring Chaeryeong, who held a confused and concerned expression on her face, that everything was alright. 

He drags you to an empty corner of the house, one where the music is just barely audible so you can actually have a conversation. 

“Is this what you meant by ‘going out?’ You’re at a fucking party.”

He practically hisses at you, pissed off that you didn’t tell him the whole truth about your activities. 

“Well I am out. And besides, you’re not my boyfriend anymore Taehyun, why should I tell you where I am or what I’m doing? So you can try to control me again like you did before?” 

You look unbothered as you scoff at him, not sure if it was the alcohol that was talking or if you were just finally fed up with him acting like he can get whatever he wants from you. He clenched his jaw in anger, an action you usually find irresistible. 

“Who do you think you are talking to me like that? As if I won’t just fuck you here in front of everyone. Then they’ll know you’re mine.” 

The way he’s walking up to you, essentially backing you up into the wall behind you doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but rather you see it as a challenge. His need to claim you is confusing, considering he wants nothing to do with you barring sex.  

“I’m not yours. And I never will be again. Act as tough as you want but I’m not yours Kang Taehyun.” 

You push back, backing him up on the wall opposite to the one he had you against. He lets you push him back before swiftly holding your waist and pinning you up against the wall instead. 

“Don’t make me mark you up again, Y/N, you know I’m not afraid to do it.”

“You’re a dick you know that?” 

“Oh I know, sweetheart,” 

He says before harshly smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is sloppy and needy, tongues everywhere as you both try to get impossibly closer. Teeth biting your bottom lip, he breaks away to trail his kisses down your neck, creating new bruises over the ones that just barely healed from a few days prior. You try your best to bite back a moan, not allowing him the satisfaction of you giving into him. 

“You’re a sadistic fuck, what’s wrong with you?”

He continues his barrage on your neck and collar, biting down especially hard at your comment, causing you to wince at the pain, feeling the tiniest bit of blood trickle down your neck. 

“What the fuck did you say to me you little brat? Are you forgetting who holds the power here?” 

“I’d be surprised if you thought you did.” 

You’re provoking him at this point. You knew you stood no chance against him, you couldn’t beat him at his own game. But you were certainly going to make it more difficult for him, challenging his every step with your bratty comments and actions. 

“Oh so you’re being a brat on purpose. You want me to go hard on you? Or maybe I should go easy, and give you the opposite of what you want?” 

You’re not ready to relinquish control yet, as if you had it in the first place. But to you, this was your own personal victory. Riling up Taehyun who was normally very private about being intimate with anyone, especially you. Acting out like this in a place where anyone could catch you at any time. This was your win. 

“Fuck you, Taehyun.” 

“Oh, I will.”

You’re taken aback as he feels you up under your shirt, lifting it enough to expose your stomach. The cool air and his cold hands on your warm body cause you to shiver into him, hand moving up to his shoulder to ground yourself. He was roughly kneading your tits together, pinching your nipples that perked up against his cold fingers. You’re fighting every fiber in your being to hold back a moan, strained breaths taking their place. He takes this as a challenge, taking his mouth to your tits and biting down hard on the soft flesh. You reel back into the wall, arching your back and pushing your chest further into his face. He takes the chance to mark up your tits as well, taking your nipples between his teeth, sucking and biting. Coupled with the pain you’re feeling pleasure. As much as you hated feeling pain, it felt so good when Taehyun was the one giving it to you. 

“Come on you little slut, make the noises you want everyone to hear. You never hold back when we’re alone, what’s different now? Didn’t you want people to catch us?”

He’s taunting you and it's working, biting your lip raw to suppress any moans. He slots his knee between your legs, letting your pussy rest against his thigh. His hands move to your waist, helping you grind yourself on his thigh, something you tried to stop yourself from doing. But your attempts to stop yourself were futile, finding your own body betraying you as the flexed muscle of his thigh along with the rough fabric of your jeans hit your clit perfectly. Slowly, some whimpers leave your throat, followed by shallow breathing. Your head was spinning, intoxicated by Taehyun, the effects of the alcohol barely present. 

“You’re dumb again and I haven’t even had my way with you yet? Typical,”

You wanna bite back but your words fail you, pushing a moan past your lips instead, involuntarily agreeing to his claim. 

“Fuck…”

He grabs you by the wrist, halting any pleasure to your body as he harshly pulls you into an empty bedroom. His hands are on you instantly, hands going into your jeans to cup your ass. He pulls you in close, kissing and sucking on your lips as your hands get lost in his hair. You let your moans free, not being able to hold them back any longer. You curse your weak resolve, something you’d beat yourself up over later. He has your pants off in no time, pulling his own down as he lifts you up, letting your back hit the door shut as he has you firmly pressed up against it. You’re embarrassingly wet, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“You’re never gonna escape me. Only I can make you so wet like this by barely giving you anything.”

You hate yourself for constantly going back to him, but the way he acts, even if it's stuck up and you hate it– always has you coming back for more. He was right, no one could make you feel as good as he can. 

He thrusts into you, breaking you out of your thoughts and coaxing a long and drawn out whimper from you. Your head hits the back of the door pretty hard, but you don’t feel the pain as Taehyun drilling into you completely relieves you from it. His thrusts are sharp and rough, skin slapping loud as he puts more and more force into fucking you, releasing all the pent up anger and frustration you just put in him. Your grip is everywhere, in his hair, on his shoulders, running up and down his arms, anything to try and stabilize yourself as you feel your legs start to wobble. 

Of course he knew when you were close, harshly pulling out of you. 

“FUCK YOU!”

It's almost like you can’t control your emotions as he rips your orgasm away from you. You wanted to cry at the ache and frustration, so used to getting what you want from him. He rarely ever edged you, finding too much pride at making you cum quickly with a couple thrusts, it actually hurt him a little to not finish you off. But you had to be punished for acting out. You smack at his shoulders as he puts you down, only to spin you around, leaning you over the bed. In front of the bed is a large vanity mirror, one that gives you a perfect view of the entire room, and the menacing look on Taehyun’s face. He yanks you by the hair, holding your head up as he walks up between your legs. 

“Watch yourself get ruined by my cock. Watch yourself fall apart as you realize you can’t live without me or my dick. Want to cum? Don’t close your fucking eyes you dirty slut.”

His words are venomous, but you can't get enough as you’re backing your hips into him, asking for it like you’re in heat. He delivers a particularly hard and loud slap to your ass, grinning as he watches it bounce. There's something about the way that he just looks down at you like you're nothing but a sleeve for him to drown his dick in that gets you going.

“Hurry up”

Another hard slap to your ass and yank of your hair keep you at bay, holding your tongue back at the pain. 

“Shut up! I’ll give it to you when I think you deserve it.”

He pulls your head back almost completely, using his hand to hold your jaw open as he spits into your mouth. You try your best to seductively swallow his spit, hoping that he’ll ease up on you and finally give you what you want. He runs his hands up and down your body, rubbing his tip over your cunt to tease you. He can’t wait to be in you again, sliding in and bottoming out immediately. 

You’re trying your best to keep your hips still, no longer being able to keep up your front, worried he’ll stop his movements if you push back onto him. He can sense your obedience, and brings a hand over your stomach and down to your clit, toying with it, thrusts nothing short of unforgiving. Your mouth is hung open from the pleasure, moans non-existent as your throat is too dry to produce them. You’re clenching over him, orgasm quickly approaching.

“See how you get rewarded when you’re being good for me? Finally you fucking learn”

But something in you always has to challenge him. It’s like second nature, even when you don’t want to respond back to him, you do, out of spite. Out of the growing hatred you have for the man who you can’t seem to detach yourself from. 

“If I don’t get it from you I’ll get it from someone else”

Silence. No moans, no thrusts, no sounds of your slick rubbing against your folds. It’s almost like you broke him. 

“If you can get it from someone else, then I should just stop here, right? You can finish from someone else using you like this?” 

He slides out of you, delivering yet another harsh slap to your ass, this time much harder than the last and leaving a bright red hand print. The tears that were brimming your eyes many times during the night are finally at their limits, pushing past your eyes and falling down your face. 

“Taehyun I… I’m so sorry I didn’t mean any of that please, please help me I’m sorry!”

You knew better than to grovel. If anything, this would make your attachment to him worse. But you were nothing short of a nymphomaniac, only caring about the need to cum and the feelings surrounding it later, once you’ve gotten your fill— literally. 

“I can’t stand you”

He flips you over, slamming back into you again as you scream, this time his name flows out of your mouth. You’re so grateful that begging worked, but you’re just as annoyed at yourself for repeating the cycle over and over again. This time you’re face to face with him, never breaking eye contact as his previous rule still stood. ‘Watch yourself get ruined’ but instead you’d watch him, ruining you physically and emotionally. 

All the mental barriers you put up around him, all the back talk telling him to stop asking about your plans and what you’ll be doing, all the attempts at trying to be better than him and meaner than him, all severing at the promise of what? The possibility that you’ll get to cum? You couldn’t stand yourself either. 

His hands were tight around your waist, bruising the supple skin as he hammered into you for the nth time. He was driving you up the wall, your release crashing over you in mere seconds. Writhing under him, you’re panting like a dog, not being able to handle the immediate over sensitivity that you’re feeling. You always were a sucker for the way his eyes peered into your soul every time you guys had sex, like he still cared, like he still wished you were his. 

But part of you wondered about his actions just now. 

Why did he care so much about the comments that you made, knowing they were false threats because you always went back to him? Was it just a pride thing? Was he so committed to the bit of claiming you that he just got a little too intense? Or did he still harbor secret feelings for you? 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts at the feeling of him filling you up to the brim, but not yet pulling out. 

“If you really want whatever this is between us to end, just say so. I can’t play these games if you’re gonna threaten to get fucked by someone else.”

Did he really still have feelings for you? Or was this just another one of his attempts to control you, manipulate you into staying with him indirectly?

“You fuck me like no one else can. I have to keep you on your toes though, right?”

The smirk that forms on his face at your words is the first time in a while you’ve seen his face relax. Like you made the right choice and he was so pleased with your words. 

“You just love making things difficult, don’t you?”

You chuckle at his words, confirming them.

You had the perfect opportunity for an out, but of course you didn't take it. Because why not subject yourself to more emotional pain and damage when you can have the best fuck of your life whenever you wanted it, right?

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (LII)

Chapter 52 : ‘I love you. I’m glad I exist.’

Hi! This is the last chapter!!

Thank you all so much for reading, for your support, for all your lovely comments, for giving love to this story!! I would lie were I to pretend I’m not crying writing this, posting this last chapter… this story has been with me for over a year now, it’s a friend at this point and I will miss it. But all things end, so, enjoy this last chapter, and let’s leave our happy couple have a beautiful life together.

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 5021

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The Orange

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange— The size of it made us all laugh. I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave— They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park. This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all the jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I’m glad I exist.

Wendy Cope, The Orange and Other Poems, 2023

“God, this is awkward…”

Andrew stared straight ahead at the grocery store. He was pushing his trolley between the carrots and the potatoes, when he spotted Samantha and Frank on the other side of the aisle.

You were off somewhere looking for apples, and Andrew was both glad and anxious that you were not with him. Glad because it meant that you didn’t have to see Frank, and he didn’t want you to feel sad because of him again. Anxious because he had to talk to them on his own.

And indeed, he did have to talk to them, because Sam had spotted him and was now walking towards him with a shy smile, Frank in tow.

Damn it…

“Andy? Hi,” she smiled, and he had to put on a polite smile as well. “How are you? It’s funny seeing you here!”

“Hi… huh, yeah… I mean, grocery shopping, obviously. Hmm… I’m fine, doing fine. What about you two?”

“We’re okay,” Frank answered with a smile too. “It’s good to see you, Andrew. You… kind of disappeared last time. So did Y/N, actually.”

Andrew tried not to show that he was tensing, his hold on the trolley tightening.

“Yeah… I mean… we both reckoned that it was best for all of us if we just… let you be. Moved on. Besides… we both agreed that there was no point in coming to the wedding, after all.”

Because we were in love with each other already, but he didn’t add that.

“We missed you both though, at the ceremony,” Sam said, and Andrew shrugged.

“It was best to let you go.”

“Right… but enough about the past!” she added with a vague gesture of the hand, as if chasing a bothering insect. “How are you doing? Are you still at Trinity?”

“Yeah! I am, yeah. I’m… fine, really. I’m doing great. What about you two?”

“Oh, we’re fine! We moved to Scotland for two years, for Frank’s job, but we’ve quickly come back, we were missing home too much. So, we’re settling in the area again, it’s been really nice.”

“Grand.”

“What about Y/N? Are you still working together?”

Andrew spotted you behind Frank, looking above his shoulder, a bag filled with apples in your hand. You frowned as you clearly recognised who he was talking to, stopped in your tracks in surprise.

“Yeah, yeah… we’re both at Trinity.”

You walked closer, and Andrew tried to silently tell you that you didn’t have to, but you did anyway.

“How is she?” Frank asked with a surprising eagerness, and even Sam seemed taken aback by his tone.

“I’m grand, thanks.”

Both Sam and Frank spun around, smiled at you.

“Oh, you’re here too! Hi!”

“How are you two doing?” you asked, walking around the couple to put the bag of apples in Andrew’s trolley.

“Oh, it’s so nice to see that you two are still good friends,” Sam said.

Andrew and you shared a glance, before laughing.

“We… we’re a bit more than that,” Andrew answered, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Frank let out in a breath.

“Oh… for… for how long have two been…?” Sam asked, her voice trailing off.

“Erm… a few years,” Andrew vaguely answered, not wanting to dive into how the two of you had gotten so close.

“Amazing! It’s serious, then!”

“We’re married,” you answered with an amused smile, pointing at your wedding band, and then at Andrew’s.

“Wow… congratulations,” Frank said, although he didn’t seem fully convinced by his own statement.

“Thanks.”

“Well, isn’t that funny! We just had to swap partners!” Sam joked, but there was something humourless on her features now.

“Yeah… funny how things can turn out,” Andrew nodded, placing a hand on your waist.

He noticed the way both of them stared for a moment, before looking up again.

“For how long have you been married?”

“A year,” you answered. “Our anniversary was last week.”

“Oh, amazing.”

But there was no joy in Frank’s tone.

Andrew decided that this conversation had lasted long enough.

“Well, we should get going. It was nice seeing you two.”

“Yes, it was grand! We should do something together! Catch up!” Sam offered.

Andrew felt you tensing, and he rubbed circles into your hip with his thumb to soothe you.

“Erm… Maybe, if the… if the occasion arises. Who knows.”

He turned to you before Frank could say anything else.

“Let’s go, darling,” Andrew breathed, tone soft and as tender as his hold on you.

The next moment, he was pushing the trolley away from the couple, and into another aisle.

It didn’t take you long to finish buying your groceries. Thirty minutes later, you were in your car, heading home. Andrew rested a hand on your thigh while you drove, but he didn’t dare to speak about what had happened. He didn’t want you to feel sad, didn’t want you to be pulled back into your break-up and Frank’s betrayal. And to be fair, he didn’t want to be pulled back into it either. He was happy now, happier than he had ever been, thanks to you, and there was no need to talk about the past, about how Sam had pulled his heart out just to stump on it.

He drew mindless patterns on your jeans while the trees and houses passed by. It wasn’t raining yet, but judging by the heavy clouds, it would soon come again. He hoped you could get home before the thunder fell.

Elwood was at the door, rushing to get petted as you entered, jumping up and down in joy as you came home. Andrew emptied the truck while you gave the dog some attention, and you started to unpack your groceries, both of you still wrapped in silence. Only, not the comfortable one that you were both used to by now, the kind that made Andrew anxious, that announced thunder.

He took a deep breath, gathered his courage.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You didn’t look at him, busy as you were by filling up the fridge, while Andrew was putting away the groceries that belonged in the cupboards. He heaved a sigh.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He looked at you, or rather… he stared, until you would look up at him again. Finally, you closed the door of the fridge.

“You… you’re sure you’re okay? After seeing Frank again?”

You frowned a little at that.

“Of course. It was years ago. I love you. We’re married. I don’t care about Frank.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course!”

You crossed your arms before your chest.

“Do you still care about Sam?”

“What? No! Of course, not!”

“Then why ask if I still have feelings for Frank?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at you.

“That… is not what I asked.”

“Right…”

“Do you? Still have feelings?”

“Of course not!”

“Why are you suggesting that, then?”

“I’m not! You are! You are the one acting weird!”

“I’m not acting weird, I… we’ve just stumbled on the two people who smashed our hearts, I reckon that’s normal for me to inquire if you’re okay or not?!”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.”

“Are you… do you want to see her again? Sam?”

“God no! That five-minutes conversation was dreadful enough!”

You visibly relaxed, pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I… I was worried you would.”

“Absolutely not. Why would I?”

“I… I don’t know…”

Before you could add anything, Andrew had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in a tight hug.

“I love you so much, darling.”

“I love you too. I was just… I’m sorry, it was silly. I know you don’t love her anymore.”

“No, I don’t. I love you. Always will, baby.”

“I love you too. So much, honey.”

“I just… I was just worried that you would hurt because of Frank again.”

“No, I don’t care. I’m happy with you. Happier than I was with him.”

He tightened his hold on you, and felt you do the same. He was surprised when you chuckled.

“Did you see their faces when I said we were married?!”

“And when I said we were together! Damn…”

“They didn’t like that news one bit!”

You both laughed, looking at each other again.

“I think they were kind of jealous,” Andrew said. “Frank definitely was.”

“You think so?”

“Hmm… maybe they didn’t like the idea of their exes living happily without them.”

“Probably. The selfish pricks.”

He laughed at that, but didn’t contradict you.

“I’m so happy our plan didn’t work,” you whispered, stroking tenderly his cheek. “I’m so glad I didn’t marry Frank. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Me too, my love. Me too,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your hair and closing his eyes so that your perfume would make him forget the rest of the world.

He had to open them again though, when Elwood decided to jump on him, clearly wanting some love too. He made both of you laugh.

“Ha, sorry, buddy. We were forgetting you a little bit, for a moment.”

Andrew knelt down to pet the dog, laughing as Elwood licked his face, wagging his tail frantically under Andrew’s scratches. Soon, your fingers were joining his to pet your beloved dog.

“Don’t worry, you’re a good boy,” you cooed. “No one gets left out on the love in this family.”

Andrew looked at you as you spoke that word, was reminded that this was what you were. A family. His heart grew soft and warm at the thought.

And what a beautiful family it was…

“God, this is awkward.”

You tried to ignore Sam, as she strolled across the aisle, you really did. You tried to hide behind a large pile of bananas, but it was doomed to fail.

Would you be condemned to constantly bump into these two now that they were back in town?

“Y/N!”

And couldn’t she just… ignore you?

You forced a smile.

“Hey, Sam!”

“I’m so happy to see you! How are you?”

“Erm… I’m good. You?”

“Great, yeah!”

You didn’t say anything else, hoping she would take it as her cue to leave. She didn’t, obviously…

“I’m really happy to see you! I wanted to invite you and Andrew to dinner next weekend!”

You blinked at her.

“What?”

“Yeah! We thought that it would be great to catch up! A lot happened in the past few years! Frank and I just… thought it would be nice.”

You wanted to say no. Straight up. But it would have been rude, and you were too taken aback by it all.

“Here! I’ll give you my number! Ask Andrew about it, and let us know!”

You nodded, offered her your phone. She asked you to text her to save your number, but you didn’t.

You went home like a robot. You didn’t remember the drive when you arrived, you didn’t hear Andrew calling after you.

He was babbling about a gig Alex had booked where he would sing, was making a list of things to do, of songs he would play. You barely heard him.

“Babe! That’s gonna be amazing! It’s a festival, we’ll have a full set, we need to start working on the songs… I don’t know which one to sing… Alex wants to do Pagan Love, but I’m wondering if we shouldn’t do Ae Fond Kiss instead, if we’re choosing to include traditional songs. What do you think?”

You closed the door, took off your shoes. Carried the bags in the kitchen. You didn’t notice Elwood rubbing his head against your legs.

You sat down, stared at nothing.

“Babe? Are you listening to…”

Andrew entered the kitchen with his excited voice booming across the room, and then his eyes rested on you. He went instantly silent.

“Honey? You’re okay?”

His voice was soft now. Back to its usual tenderness. Instead of excitement, there was only worry to taint his tone.

You looked up at him, and you must have looked upset, because his face fell.

“Congrats on the gig,” you whispered. “I’m sorry… what was the question you asked?”

He frowned hard, shook his head.

“Thank you, but… Never mind that, it’s not important for now. What’s wrong? Love, tell me what’s wrong… please…”

He walked closer, and you reached out until you could press your face into his stomach, until he was holding you close.

“Darling? You’re alright? What happened?”

You didn’t say anything, he ran his fingers through your hair until you closed your eyes.

“You’re okay, love. I’ve got you. Tell me why you’re upset, okay? So, I can help.”

You felt your throat tightening, but you answered anyway. His touch was helping, his warmth too.

“I saw Sam. When I bought groceries.”

His fingers in your hair stilled.

“Okay.”

“She invited us to have dinner with them. She gave me her number. Asked me to tell you about it.”

He let out a scoff.

“Right, of course… like we’re going to say yes…”

“I think we should go.”

He moved away, just enough to force you to look up at him.

“What?”

“I think we should go.”

“Why? Why would we? After everything they’ve done?!”

You tried to gather your thoughts, make them understandable to him.

“I think… I don’t know. I want to know how they’re doing. Sometimes I wonder if they’re still together, if they have any regrets over what happened, how they handled the entire thing. If they see today that none of it was okay. And… maybe it’s petty, and selfish, but… I’m so happy with you. I love you so much. We’ve built such a good life together. I want to show them. I want to show them that they were right, we weren’t meant to be with them. We found better than them. It’s childish, and petty… but I want to show them that we’ve moved on, and that we have no regrets.”

You heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know… They’re living close-by again. We’re doomed to bump into them on a regular basis. I think we should see them once, and then tell them to leave us alone. For good. What do you think?”

Andrew let out a long exhale through his nose.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know… but I feel like we should do it.”

He pondered on the question for a moment, but then he nodded.

“I trust you. If you think that we should do it, then let’s do it.”

You gave him a grateful smile.

“You have to promise me though that, after that dinner, we’ll never see them again. We’ll tell them to leave us alone. I don’t want them in our lives.”

You nodded.

“I promise.”

“Alright, let’s do it, then.”

Andrew had a bottle of whiskey in his hand. You were locking the car, you shot him a smile when you realised that he was staring at you, a couple of meters away, waiting for you to walk to the door.

It was a beautiful house, large and modern. At the sight, you told him that Frank must have gotten his promotion, after all. Andrew didn’t doubt that Sam must have been working a lot as well, she always had.

“Ready?” he asked as you walked hand in hand towards the door.

“Not really… but I can feel that we’re doing the right thing.”

Andrew wished he could say the same, but his stomach felt heavy, his throat had tightened.

He had struggled a lot at the beginning of your relationship. Old insecurities were coming back, heightened by the way his relationship with Sam had ended, by how their relationship had evolved too. He was finally in a good place, happy and safe, at last believing that you would stay, that you truly loved him. He didn’t need to see Sam again. He needed to forget her…

But the door opened, and Frank greeted them with a grin. White hair had appeared on his temples, but he still looked the same, exuberant and bright and Andrew’s opposite in every possible way…

“Come in! It’s good to see you, come on in!”

You walked inside first, Andrew noticed at once the way Frank’s eyes lingered on you, and he hated it with every fibre of his being…

He handed Frank the bottle of whiskey, was thanked for the attention while he stepped inside.

And the rest of the house was as modern and impersonal as the outside. Full of white and grey and black. Cold. There was only a tiny bookshelf in the leaving room, half empty. Andrew pictured his own home, the blue of your sofa, the green and beige of the walls, the plants you grew together, and the entire wall covered with books, the ones in your offices as well, so many you could open a library at this point…

“Andy! It’s so good to see you!”

Sam leant up to kiss his cheek, and he humoured her, but didn’t like it. How weird. There was a time when he would have done anything to feel such a kiss on his cheekbone and now he felt almost disgusted… how feelings could change with time and the actions that carved it...

“You look so good, you two!” she smiled, but Andrew noticed that she was looking only at him while speaking, and he also noticed the annoyed frown you tried to conceal. Neither Frank nor Sam noticed your gesture though. But then again, Andrew knew you better than anyone.

You both followed them through the living room, Andrew glanced at the pictures set on the shelves. They had been travelling a lot, clearly.

“For how long have you been back in town?” Andrew asked as you all sat down around a large white table.

“Oh… a few months! Before that we’ve spent a few years away. But we were missing home quite a bit.”

“Of course, I can imagine.”

“But tell us about yourselves! For how long have you been together? I have to admit, I would have never guessed the two of you would end up as a couple… and married even!”

“Why not?” you asked in a chuckle, sharing a glance with Andrew.

“I don’t know… I just… didn’t imagine it. But how did you end up together, then?”

Andrew chuckled, embarrassed.

“Erm… like… I guess we just… fell in love, after a while.”

“What about your careers?” Frank asked, pouring some alcohol in glasses.

“It’s all fine… just… teaching, researching, the usual,” you answered.

“Aren’t you tired of each other yet? I mean… spending time at work together and then living together?” he asked in a humorous tone, but it was clear that he wasn’t truly joking.

“We spend a lot of time teaching,” Andrew answered. “And anyway… no, we’re enjoying our time together, really.”

“I wouldn’t be able to be with someone I work with!” Sam shook her head. “We both need some personal time and space.”

“We do too. And we get it when we need it. It’s just… another dynamic, I guess,” you answered.

“Right… of course…”

Andrew reached for your hand without thinking, more of a nervous habit than anything else, an unconscious search for a sense of safety, for an anchor…

But he saw the way Frank’s and Sam’s eyes trailed on his hand, how they seemed to dislike the sight.

He didn’t care at all when Frank took Sam’s hand too. He didn’t care about the fact that it seemed forced either.

He noticed that throughout dinner you kept on looking around the room, studying the furniture, the decoration. You didn’t seem envious though. There was no spark in your eyes as you studied the room, only a vague frown on your brow.

Frank and Sam asked some more questions, but soon enough the conversation was centred on them, and Andrew noticed the all-too-familiar pattern easily. He didn’t try to fight it.

They rambled on about what seemed to be a perfect life. Travels, money, friends, everything seemed perfect. And yet such a display didn’t feel real. It felt too perfect to be true. Too sweet to be savoury. For sure, there was something wrong…

“We… we were very surprised, you know? When you pushed us out of your lives,” Frank said while eating his dessert. “None of us had seen it coming.”

“It was for the best,” you mumbled.

“Really? The best for whom?”

“Both of us.”

Andrew’s voice was colder than he intended, but he was being earnest. Frank and Sam both seemed taken aback.

You rested a soothing hand on his leg, but it wasn’t enough. Andrew was tired of this. This was useless. Neither Sam nor Frank had changed. They were selfish and they didn’t even seem to notice. They were trying to impress you and for what? Andrew didn’t want this life, this house, these pictures on the mantlepiece. He wanted his bees, his own living room filled with love and warmth, his books, your arms and your voice and your love, and Elwood running in the garden…

He wanted the life he had. It was as perfect as life could get. This… this had nothing to do with who he was. If that was what Sam wanted, then he understood that they were doomed to fail. He didn’t want this life at all…

“What could you mean?” Sam asked.

Andrew let out a long exhale through his nose, clearly annoyed, almost angry. He didn’t say anything though, he let you answer.

“Things didn’t end smoothly,” your voice was still calm and soft, and Andrew didn’t know how you could remain so composed. “And it was just… it wasn’t healthy for either Andrew nor I to remain close to you. It was best to just… move on with our own lives.”

“But what about us?” Sam asked. “You simply… left us behind.”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Sam… you cheated on me. Frank and you both broke our hearts, and then you just expected us all to be good friends like none of you had done any harm…”

“It was for the best, we were in love…”

“So were we.”

He felt your stare on him, but you didn’t back down either.

“What?” Frank asked in a breath.

“We wanted to start dating, when we told you that we didn’t want to stay in touch,” you explained. “It was a new beginning.”

“And there was no space for either of you in it.”

You had a small chuckle, a humourless one, but it wasn’t sour either.

“None of you has changed much,” you added. “You’re both the same.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That our lives are very different. In a way, we should thank you. We found each other thanks to you, we were able to fall in love and have this wonderful life together because you left. But our lives and yours are not compatible. It’s better if we don’t try to be friends again.”

Andrew stared at you, content. He got up.

“Let’s go, honey,” he murmured in a gentle voice and you nodded, standing as well.

He noticed the way both Frank and Sam tensed at the pet name.

“Of course, we’re doomed to bump into each other, but… we’d really appreciate it if we could… avoid each other,” Andrew requested.

“So what? We should just… ignore you?”

“Yes. Let’s act like we don’t know each other.”

“This is ridiculous…”

“It’s not. We’re simply asking for boundaries.”

“But we miss you. You’re important to us!”

“You used to be important to us too,” you answered, and the softness of your voice seemed to shock them even more. “Don’t worry about us. We’re very happy. We have a good life, we do our best. We wouldn’t trade it for the world. If you still care, then isn’t this what you truly want for us?”

They didn’t find anything to answer, and Andrew seized the opportunity to walk back to the hallway, his hand on the small of your back to guide your steps.

They didn’t try to hold you back, and you were both grateful for it. The drive home was silent, but Andrew’s mind was busy with thoughts the entire ride. Now that he was with you, now that he loved you and was loved by you, he couldn’t imagine how he had thought that Sam was the one. He couldn’t believe that they hadn’t changed, hadn’t learnt any lesson from all of this. And at the end of the day, all this for what? They didn’t seem as happy as they wanted you to believe…

When you took off your shoes in your hallway, placed them by the side of Andrew’s, hung your coat next to his, Andrew was trying to gather his thoughts, find the right words to talk about that strange afternoon. But before he could do so, you were in his arms, holding him close.

You heaved a sigh as he held you tight.

“This was… dreadful,” he spoke into your hair.

“Yeah… as expected.”

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, burying your face into his chest in the process.

“I’m good. You?”

“Yeah, fine… I feel… weird.”

“Yeah, me too. You know I just… I wondered how they were doing. I’m disappointed that they’re not as happy as they thought they would be.”

“Hmm… you didn’t buy in the perfect couple they seemed to be either, huh?”

“No… and they didn’t seem to have learnt anything either.”

“Still exactly the same…”

“Yeah…”

You looked up at him with so much love and relief in your eyes, it made him want to cry.

“I’m so glad I’ve found you. I wouldn’t have been happy in this life, in this house, with him… I’m so glad you’re here.”

He kissed you, sweet and loving, taking his time. After all, you had an entire lifetime together ahead of you.

“I’m so lucky you love me.”

Andrew thought about all this pain he had to conquer, all these doubts, all those obstacles that came his way, so he would be with you. It was worth it. He would go through it every time, so long as he could love you like this.

His gaze wandered across his living room, the comfortable armchairs and the sofa by the fireplace, the papers scattered on the coffee table, the walls covered with bookshelves. His eyes were drawn to a cluster of several editions of the same books, of your two most precious collections gathered together. Some of Heaney. Some of Dante.

You looked up at him, gently pulled on his collar in a silent request for a kiss. And he obliged easily, willingly.

And could never be perfect, but it was so much better as long as you were in it…

There was sunshine upon the Liffey that morning. A scent of new beginnings in the air, a whisk of excitement in the breeze.

You took a deep breath before entering the college grounds. It was October already, the beginning of a new year here, at Trinity. You walked through the arches of stone you knew well by now, their sight familiar and their shadows welcoming as they sheltered you. After working for five years here, it felt a little like being home.

Andrew’s hold on your hand tightened a little, a silent way to ask for your attention, and you turned to him with a questioning look.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked, a worried frown on his brow.

“No, I’m okay,” you smiled up at him.

As if to contradict you, a burst of wind blew and made you shiver.

Andrew chuckled.

“Let’s hurry. I have so many things to do today anyway...”

“Classes to prepare?”

“Hmmm… and it’s orientation week. First meeting with students this afternoon.”

“Already? Damn… and look at them, they seem younger every year.”

“They’re not, we’re just growing old.”

“Thanks for reminding me… although, I’m really not bitter about it.”

“My joints and back definitely are…”

You couldn’t refrain a laugh at that, and you knew it was your laughter that brought a smile to his lips.

“I don’t know. I like growing old here, with you.”

He gave your hand a squeeze.

“Hmm… I really like it too,” he gave you a toothy grin, although you couldn’t see the emotion in his eyes.

Your attention was caught by a pair of students you knew well by now. They waved at you as you passed by, and you stopped to chat with them for a moment.

“Saoirse! Sean! How was your summer?” you asked them, and they both grinned at you.

“Good! We travelled to Germany in July, it was amazing!”

They exchanged a tender glance, and your heart melted at the sight.

“What about you two? Did you travel?”

“We celebrated our second anniversary,” you nodded. “In Italy.”

“Wow! That’s so romantic…” Saoirse sighed dreamily, and Sean chuckled at the sight.

“It was,” you nodded, looking up at Andrew with as much love as you truly felt for him, which made him both grin and blush.

“I can’t believe this is your last year here,” Andrew drew the conversation to another topic.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be weird…”

“Are you mentoring this year, then?”

“Yes, we are! That’s why we’re here so early,” Sean nodded. “And don’t worry, we’ll send you tons of students.”

You and Andrew both laughed at that.

“Will you now?”

“Of course! Have we never told you this before? On our first day, an elder student recommended us your classes, that’s why we chose them. That’s kind of how we met, too.”

“Aww… that’s cute.”

You chatted for a little longer, before walking towards your building, Andrew babbling away about this new song he was learning to play on the guitar, and the riff sounded so good, and you couldn’t wait to hear it. You couldn’t wait to hear it all.

This would be a good year, you could feel it. But then again, all the years were good with Andrew. And you had so many of those to enjoy by his side.

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 15

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

Daniel Ricardo x Norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

warnings: the internet is horrible, slut shaming

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

“Us?” Max sat up a little straighter “Okay..sure” You looked at him with concern “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this..It’s just so.. I don’t know how to describe it. And kelly told me to talk to you about it and..” You sigh.

Max’s jaw clenched, eyes searching your for anything, anything that proves he’s hearing it wrong.

“You’re not..breaking up with me, are you?” He asked quietly, vulnerable and for the first time in a long time, you see tears welling up in his eyes that he chockes down as well as he can.

“What? No!” You turn to him and take his face in your hands “Why would you think that? I’m talking about Daniel and the risk of someone else outing us. We’re not the most popular people, but we’re still known..”

“Oh..yeah of course” You tilt your head “Why would you think I would…That’s ridiculous” You say quietly. Max nods “I know, it just sounded so serious and..I don’t want to loose you” Liar.

He really didn’t want to loose you, but he also knew everything was perfectly fine between you…right?

“I just want to think forward and see if we should come out with our relationship before anyone else does” Max nods “Maybe we should”

“It’s not like people aren’t on us. I’ve seen two or three comments, suspecting we’re soft launching each other, which is true but.. they don’t know that” You chuckle and max smiles.

“Alright. Let’s do it, hmm?” He smiles “You mean now? A hard launch?” He shrugs “Why not? It’s not like anything will change if we wait”

You nod and hesitantly pull out your phone. Max looks through your camera roll with you and you select a few pictures.

“Alright, there is no going back if we do this now” You look at your phone and then at Max. He smiles gently and pulls you in for a kiss “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” “No I do, it’s just gonna be a lot. I already know what people are gonna say.”

“Are they in our relationship? Are they sitting next to us?” “No” “That’s how much they matter” He brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

You quickly pressed the post button and put your phone on silent. You passed it onto the couch table “How about we finish dinner and then look?” Max asks, still brushing his fingers through your hair.

“Yes, that sounds amazing”

-

yn

liked by carlossainz, kellypiquet, oscarpiastri and 1 m others

yn Alexa, play ‘ordinary’ by alex warren 💜

*tagged maxfewtrell*

logansargent WHAT

alexandrasaintmleux cuties ❤️

user ah, first daniel now max, who’s next?

user famous brother isn’t enough? What a slut

kellypiquet fav couple 💜

user Omg I knew itttt

user perfect enemies to lovers 🥹

user they compliment each other so well 👏

franciscagomez you no longer have to 3rd any of our dates, DOUBLE DATES YESS

user hm, and lando is neither in the likes nor comments..

-

landonorris

liked by danielriccardo, estebanocon, mclaren and 1 m others

lando keeping it real 🙂‍↕️😉

user ohhh he shooting

user what kind of circus is this?

danielriccardo 🤪🤪

mclaren reunited 🤩

user no sight of yn or max, something is definitely wrong

user good for you two! You don’t need backstabbing siblings and friends 👏👏

user she’s such a bitch, ruining everyone’s friendship

-

f1gossip

f1gossip It’s about to get interesting! Earlier in the day, Yn norris and Max Fewtrell officially announced that they are a couple. There was no support shown from her brother. The couple unfollowed the mclaren driver after he posted Pictures with Ex-teammate and rumoured (ex) boyfriend Daniel Riccardo of Yn from last year! Did the norris duo split due to the new couple? Did Yn actually cheat on Daniel with Max?

user this is crazy

user always knew she was just in for the fame

user does she even work? Lando was probably paying for everything.

user she actually graduated top in her class at university and took a break before wanting to go into her field

user Fewtrell is such a backstabber. His best friends sister? Lame.

user am I the only one who thinks they’re cute?

-

“This is ridiculous! They all side with him” Alexandra put her hands on her hips and threw her phone on the table. You don’t say anything, staring at the table. After you and Max finished eating, Alexandra and Charles came over, wanting to check on you after neither of you answered their phones.

“Have you spoken to your mom?” Charles asked “No” You say quietly “Maybe you should at least do that? I’m sure she already tried contacting you” Max says gently.

You turn your head to look at the couch table, where your phone was still laying from earlier. You sigh and get up, seeing if your mom had texted, which she did.

-

You and Max did exactly what your mom said. Lay low and don’t let it get to you. It was the only right thing you’d have to do.

“I was thinking..maybe opening a new account” You say quietly as you draw patterns on Max’s chest “For instagram?” You nod “But like just friends. I still wanna share my life with my friends but not have everyone watch us” He smiles and kissed your cheek “Sure, that sounds nice”

You lay your head down as his fingers draw comforting circles onto your back “Didn’t you have a stream planned for today?” “Cancelled it. I’m not reading the bullshit they’re writing about you.”

You look at him from your laying view “Thank you” He looks at you “For what?” “For being here, not leaving me..” His eyes softened “We went against our own feelings, to not hurt his feelings, now he won’t even hear what you have to say about your feelings. I’ll forever be by your side”

You tear up a bit and smile, lifting your head up “I love you” It slips out before you can stop it. Colour drains from your face “Oh uhm- I mean-“ Max pulls you in for a gentle kiss.

As he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours “I love you too”

-

maxfewtrell added to their story

quadrant

liked by riabish, keeganpalmer, angryginge13 and 729.539 others

quadrant We are sad to announce that Max and Yn are leaving the Quadrant Family. We only wish the best for these two and they’ll always be a part of us 💛

user the hard launch, The landan pics, the unfollowing, max’s story and now this? Oh something definitely went down

riabish :(((

user rightfully so. They don’t deserve it.

user fucking fame addicted assholes

user nooooo

user imagine we would’ve gotten a couples shoot. It would’ve been iconic

user to fuck your best friends sister is nothing to be proud of

user she ruined a life long friendship just to get dicked down. Slut honestly

-

yn deleted 56 posts

yn followed norris.yn

maxfewtrell followed norris.yn

-

a bit short I think..? But oh well, Max has no one told you that not being honest is gonna make things worse when you’re partner is unaware 👀

I feel like this is fast paced.. Is is fast paced or is it just me?

[jungkoode]

OFF-LABELS | O3

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED:

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: Hoseok being a menace with medical terminology, innocent (but absolutely calculated) comments about oral muscle endurance, subtext so thick it's suffocating, plausible deniability at an elite level, flustered reader, casual intimacy that feels dangerous, and dinner table tension that might actually kill you.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

→ MINI SERIES: NEXT | PREVIOUS

→ A/N: Listen. I don't know what is wrong with me. I sat down to write something normal, and then suddenly I was researching orofacial muscle fatigue like a lunatic. WHY is this man like this? Why does he say things so kindly while ruining your life? Why is he explaining anatomy while looking directly at you like that? Anyway. This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever choked on their food while someone smiled at them way too nicely.

PLAYLIST

It starts in the kitchen.

Which is unfortunate, because the kitchen is small. And there are only so many places to stand before proximity becomes a problem.

You’re hyperaware of it—the space (limited), the air (too warm), him (entirely too close). But it’s fine. You’re fine. You’re just making tea, and he’s just existing, leaning against the counter like this is his apartment instead of your brother’s. Like he belongs here. Like his presence isn’t making it impossible for you to function like a normal person.

(He’s not even doing anything. Which somehow makes it worse.)

“I didn’t know you liked green tea.” His voice is easy, just conversational. Not a trap. Probably.

You don’t look at him. Can’t. “Yeah. I mean—I do. It’s good. Antioxidants and stuff.”

Brilliant. Truly stunning commentary.

Hoseok just hums, and you hear the soft clink of his rings against his glass as he lifts it to his lips. He’s drinking water, which seems unfair. Water is neutral. Water doesn’t require decisions. Meanwhile, you’re standing here, internally debating whether you’re taking too long to steep this tea, if leaving the bag in too long will make you seem weird, if—

“Relax, Chip.”

The words are casual. Just a little offhanded throwaway of a comment. But it lands like a dropped match, tiny but catastrophic.

You blink. Slowly. “What?”

Hoseok sets his glass down with a soft thud and turns to you fully, eyebrows lifted in lazy amusement. “You’re overthinking your tea.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like it’s a thing people do—casually observe someone else’s entire internal meltdown and name it out loud.

Which, to be fair, is exactly what he’s doing.

Your ears feel hot. “I am not.”

“You are.”

He’s enjoying this. You can tell. It’s in the corner of his mouth, the hint of a smile he’s barely holding back. Not mean—just knowing.

And then it clicks. The name.

Chip.

“Wait,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Did you just call me—”

His grin sharpens, eyes flashing with something teasing, but infuriatingly innocent. “Yeah,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “Chip. Short for chipmunk.”

You stare at him. Your brain scrambles for a response and comes up with absolutely nothing.

He keeps going, undeterred. “You do this thing when you’re overthinking—” He gestures vaguely at your face, at you. “Your cheeks puff up. Just a little.”

Absolutely not. That does not happen.

Except—you know exactly what he’s talking about.

Which means he’s noticed.

You turn back to your tea, because looking at him feels impossible. “That’s not a real thing.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” he says again, softer this time. Almost amused.

You risk a glance at him. He’s watching you, expression easy, mouth still curled slightly at the edges.

It’s not a big deal.

It’s just a nickname.

But you can feel it settling somewhere deep in your chest, warm and unwelcome, curling into the spaces he’s already managed to take up.

Chip.

You should tell him not to call you that.

You should absolutely, definitively tell him not to call you that.

But you don’t.

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything.

That he’s just being himself—casual, playful, thoughtless in the way people like him can afford to be. That it’s just a nickname, not a calculated attack on your sanity.

And yet.

Yet.

You feel it every time he says it after that.

The first time, it’s two days later. He and your brother are in the living room, a game on in the background, when you walk by with your laptop. You aren’t even stopping—just passing through—when he glances up and says it like it’s always been your name.

“Where you off to, Chip?”

The sound of it makes you trip over your own feet. Embarrassingly. You don’t even answer, just keep walking, face burning, fully aware of the way he watches you go.

Then it happens again.

And again.

Sometimes it’s subtle, slipped in like an afterthought. “Hey, Chip, toss me that.” “You always this quiet, Chip?”

Other times it’s deliberate. Measured. Like he’s testing the weight of it, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll react.

You don’t.

You refuse.

(Which only seems to encourage him.)

And then one night, it’s just the two of you. Your brother’s in the shower, music spilling under the bathroom door, and you’re curled up on the couch, trying very hard to ignore the fact that Hoseok is sitting way too close for comfort.

His arm is slung over the back of the couch, loose and easy, and every so often, when you shift, your shoulder brushes against his.

(You should move. You should absolutely move.)

Instead, you stay where you are and pretend to be very, very interested in the show playing on the screen.

Hoseok shifts. You feel the weight of his attention before you see it.

“You don’t like it?”

You blink. “What?”

“The nickname.” His voice is low, smooth, barely above the sound of the TV. “You never say anything about it.”

You don’t know what to do with that. Don’t know what to do with him, watching you like he’s reading something written just under your skin.

“It’s fine,” you say, and it’s not convincing.

His lips twitch, but his voice stays neutral. “You sure?”

You nod, too quickly.

There’s a beat of silence. You can hear the shower running down the hall, the TV filling the air with white noise.

And then—so soft you almost don’t catch it—

“Good.”

It lingers in the space between you, something light, something easy. But you feel it settle somewhere deeper. Somewhere dangerous.

Because now, you know for certain.

He’s not going to stop.

And that’s the problem. It’s a problem. Because Hoseok is nice.

He’s just nice.

He’s warm and charming in a way that isn’t practiced—it just is. The kind of person who remembers how you take your coffee after hearing it once, who laughs with his whole chest, who makes people feel like they belong.

He’s good at things, too. Competent in that effortless way that makes it infuriatingly easy to admire him. You’ve seen him fix things around your brother’s apartment without being asked, roll up his sleeves and lean under the sink like it’s nothing, like he was built for it.

(Not that you were watching. Not that you noticed the way the muscles in his forearms shift when he grips a wrench.)

The point is—this is just how he is. With everyone.

So it’s fine.

Everything is fine.

Or at least, it would be, if he’d stop saying things.

Because then, it happens at dinner.

And the reason for Hoseok being here is simple.

He’s always here for dinner.

Not every night, but often enough that it’s routine. That your parents barely bat an eye when they see him at the table, that your mom still sets an extra plate for him when she cooks, that your dad asks about his job like he’s part of the family.

Because he might as well be.

He and Caleb have been friends since his first year of university—long enough for Hoseok to be comfortable in this house, for your parents to know his favorite foods, for you to be so used to him being around that you shouldn’t be affected by it anymore.

(And yet. And yet.)

Dinner is normal.

It’s just the five of you at the table, passing dishes around, the smell of takeout filling the air. The conversation is easy, punctuated by laughter, by the scrape of chopsticks against plastic containers.

It’s nice. It’s comfortable.

Or at least—it should be.

Except your eyes keep tracking him. They always do. The way he sits—too at ease, too familiar. The way his sleeves are pushed up just enough to be distracting. The way his fingers grip his chopsticks, loose and confident, movements fluid and practiced.

(It’s stupid. It’s stupid that you’re noticing these things.)

Your dad is asking Hoseok something about work, and you force yourself to focus, desperate to ground yourself in the conversation instead of spiraling into a pit of your own making.

“How are you managing, with the residency?”

“It’s been busy,” Hoseok says, setting his chopsticks down neatly. “But good. No complaints.”

Your mom tuts. “You work too much.”

Hoseok just smiles, warm and self-effacing. “It’s not so bad.”

Your dad nods approvingly. “That’s a good mindset. A little hard work never hurt anyone.”

“And at least someone in this house is doing it,” Caleb says, nudging you lightly under the table.

You roll your eyes. “I work plenty.”

“Studying doesn’t count,” Caleb argues, because he loves to be annoying.

“It literally does.”

Your mom sighs, long-suffering. “Can we have one meal where you two don’t bicker?”

You sit back in your chair, focusing very hard on your plate, on not looking at the person sitting just to your right. The conversation flickers and tumbles around you, but you don’t register much of it.

And then—

“You should use your mouth more, Chip.”

The table goes quiet.

Your heart stops.

Your stomach plummets.

Your entire soul leaves your body, hovering somewhere above the dinner table, watching this play out like a nightmare in slow motion.

Because—because—

He didn’t mean it like that. He can’t have meant it like that. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

Your dad is right there. Your mom is right there.

Hoseok is just sitting there, utterly relaxed, a picture of perfect innocence.

You’re the only one who reacts.

And that’s the problem.

Your brother—oblivious, as always—just scoffs. “I keep telling her that.”

The world tilts.

Your face burns.

Because Caleb just agreed. Like this is a normal conversation. Like this is fine.

And maybe it is fine.

Maybe you just missed something again—some context, some crucial piece of information that would make this make sense.

You frantically rewind the last few minutes, trying to figure out how this could possibly be about—

“She eats too fast,” Caleb continues, like he’s talking about the weather. “I’ve been saying it for years.”

Your entire body deflates.

Oh.

Oh.

It’s nothing.

It’s just about chewing. About how you’re always the first to finish your plate, about how your brother has been calling you out for it since you were kids.

You were imagining it.

Your hands are clammy. Your heartbeat is still a mess. But you take a slow breath, trying to pull yourself back together.

You force a weak, strangled sort of laugh. “Right. That.”

Hoseok hums, tilting his head slightly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He taps his chopsticks against his lower lip, slow and thoughtful, as if genuinely weighing his next words. Then, with the kind of mild, absentminded curiosity that should not be dangerous but absolutely is, he continues—

“Oral muscles are surprisingly adaptable. With the right conditioning, they can handle prolonged exertion without fatigue.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Absolutely not.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the weight of his voice, the way the words land, the way your lungs forget how to function. You try—desperately—to convince yourself that he means nothing by it, that this is just a fun little fact, the kind of thing anyone might say in casual conversation.

(Except no one says things like that in casual conversation.)

Your parents don’t react. Your brother doesn’t even blink. They just keep eating like this is normal, like this is fine.

You, meanwhile, are staring at your plate, trying not to choke on air.

And just as you’re about to die from sheer mortification, he adds—

“For instance, brass players develop impressive endurance. Hours of embouchure control, you know?”

Embouchure control.

You think you might be having an out-of-body experience.

Because he’s not even looking at you. He’s just sitting there—calm, innocent, like he’s just making an offhand comment about music, like he’s not actively ruining your life.

It’s fine. It’s nothing. It’s science.

(Except it’s not.)

You need to leave.

You shove your chair back, your hands shaking. “I’m—gonna grab some water.”

Hoseok watches you go. You feel it.

At the sink, you grip the counter, staring hard at the faucet as you fill your glass.

It’s fine.

It’s nothing.

You’re imagining things.

It’s Hoseok being Hoseok—friendly, completely unaware of the way his words get tangled in your head, twisted into shapes they were never meant to take.

You gulp down half the glass, hoping it might cool the heat rising under your skin.

Behind you, the conversation moves on. Your dad is talking about a trip, your mom is mentioning something about the neighbors.

Everything is fine.

But when you turn back, Hoseok is still watching you.

Not in a way anyone else would notice—not in a way your brother does, too focused on his food, or in a way your parents would think twice about—but in a way that you notice.

In a way that makes something low in your stomach twist, tight and uncertain.

And then, like he knows, like he can read the exact trajectory of your thoughts, Hoseok smiles.

Soft. Innocent.

Like he didn't do anything at all.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe

© 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

prev ◁ part 2 ▷ next

[series masterlist]

After planning a mission with the league all day, you’re exhausted. Kicking your shoes off at the door of your bedroom, you immediately crash on to the bed. When you pull out your phone, you expect to see a lot of notifications since you haven’t been able to check while in meetings. What you don’t expect is a text from the ex you saw at the grocery store yesterday.

When the two of you broke up, he blocked you as a way to not have to listen to your feelings or be held accountable for anything. Unfortunately, people let him and, in spite of everyone knowing your story, they all still tolerate his bullshit. Some of them even believed whatever he made up about you. Most chose to go with some middle ground peace keeping and he thrived on that. This means you had way more to worry about at the time than remembering to delete his number. You open the message, cringing in advance.

ex: that wasn’t actually your boyfriend, was it?

He took you off block for this? You reply quickly.

y/n: yeah, that was my boyfriend you begin to type, quickly changing was to is.

ex: oh come on, that dude looked terrified of you. there’s no way youre dating

What if I like them terrified you think as the texts continue to pour in.

ex: just wait until the group chat finds out you faked a relationship to make me jealous

ex: still fucking pathetic 

Fucking asshole. This time you block him, not bothering to reply. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Great, now you’ll have to convince your friends you’re dating your boss so you don’t look like an absolute idiot when he tells everyone. Maybe you shouldn't have grabbed his hand. Although, the other alternative was letting him tell everyone how sad and single you were in the Valentine's aisle by yourself. There was never any winning. Unless you can get Shigaraki to help you. He's had a crush on you for ages, he'll probably jump at the opportunity.

You grab your phone to text Shigaraki and see if he’s home before throwing it aside. Of course he’s home, he barely ever leaves his room.

Knocking a few times as a warning, he doesn’t immediately yell at you to go away so you push open his door like you usually do. He’s laying in bed playing his switch. His whole body stiffens as you enter the room. Fuck, he really does look terrified of you.

“Don’t worry,” you say, trying to sound as reassuring as you can manage, “I’m not here to sit on your lap or hold your hand or anything.”

Your words are the opposite of comforting, the blush on his face only deepens.

“Well, not yet at least,” you add. He glances away, no longer able to look you in the eyes. “I’m here to ask you a favor. And in return I’ll…” you pause to think of something he might want, “I’ll let you touch my boobs.”

“Under the shirt?” he asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Yeah, whatever. I just need your help.”

“What do you want?”

“I need you to take pictures with me and let me pretend you’re my boyfriend online,” you blurt out almost too fast for him to understand. Setting the switch down, he nods. You’re surprised he doesn’t question any of this, acting as if you just asked him the most normal thing ever.

“And you’re okay with people thinking you’re with me?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn't.”

A few minutes later, you’re back in your room. This seemed like the better option considering that his desk is currently covered in tissues and takeout boxes that you'd rather not have in the background of any pictures you post.

Sitting on your bed, you gesture for him to join you. He does, picking a spot clear on the other side. 

“I need you to sit next to me,” you say while moving closer to him, “because you have to be in the picture with me.”

He nods. 

You wrap an arm around him, smiling. Holding your phone at arms length you take a few selfies at different angles then look to see which is the best. He looks awkward, to say the least. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest and he’s not looking at the camera. 

“You have to at least try,” you tell him, deleting bad ones (all of them.)

“I don’t know what to do,” he grumbles, face turning pink.

“Just do what you’d normally do in pictures with a friend and we can go from there.”

He stares at you as if that's the most outlandish thing you've said all night.

“Okay, got it. Uhm, start by putting your arm around me.”

Awkwardly, he does. Leaving all five fingers hovering above your shoulder. You lean into him, bringing your free arm around his back. Taking a few that you think will be cute, you turn and remind him to smile. He tries and you end up adjusting the camera angle to make it work. For the last one, you plant a kiss on his cheek. He gasps, nearly jumping off your bed.

Once you stop laughing, you look through your options. With the weird angle, you can make them work in a boyfriendcore-overly-aesthetic-Pintrest-board kind of way. You post a few of the cute ones then set the last one as your lock screen background.

Success! That was easy. Well, almost. You’re not quite done yet. There's still the part where you have to fulfill your end of the deal.

Moving to stand in front of Tomura, you grab the bottom of your shirt, bunching it up over the lower half of your face.  Bold to just go for it, but if there’s anyone who won’t judge you for it it’s him. You aren’t wearing anything underneath which he very much notices. His jaw drops.

“Wow. C-can I? I’ll be careful,” he gulps staring up at you.

“Yeah, that was the deal.” Biting your shirt to keep it in place, you gently grab his wrists and move his hands onto your chest. With his pinkies up, he gives a tentative squeeze. When you arch your back to press into him, he clutches you tighter. His fingers slide over your skin, thumbs grazing your nipples. They harden at his touch so he pinches them lightly at first then harder. Your eyes close, focusing on his touch as he rolls you between his fingers.

Involuntarily, you let a moan slip out. His eyes flick up to yours. Biting his lip, he groans, grabbing the front of his pants before he jumps up and towards the door.

“I have to go now,” he mumbles, running back to his room.

next - series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @kalulakunundrum

[bugeyedfreaks]

Your personal ranking for all the villains’ lairs/houses/homes in the Powerpuff Girls series?

Okay, so, I was actually going to make this a whole huge post with tons of screenshots and everything… but I never had the time and I haven’t answered it in months. These are also sort of my rapid fire, super quick opinions that aren’t ultra in-depth deep dives (if anyone wanted me to do one of my deep dives on one of the villain’s lairs… send me an ask and I might, as long as I could just focus on one at a time)… so they’re a little bit joke-y. But I want to post this once and for all, so here you go!

Fuzzy Lumpkins

Total cottagecore vibes. I mean, a cute, cozy little shack in the woods? So quaint! So calming! It's okay, ignore all the gunshot noises. 6/10!

Him

I like his weird pink void better than his Dali-esque one from the later seasons. It feels a lot more mysterious and foreboding to me, I can't exactly explain why. 8/10 for the pink void, 5/10 for the Dali-esque place.

Boogie Man

I WANT TO PARTY IN HIS SEXY UNDERGROUND DISCO 10/10!!!!!

Femme Fatale

Just a sensible apartment. The art could be less, uh, on point? 3/10, kind of bland.

Mojo Jojo

He absolutely needs more furniture, but the way he decorates is impeccable. I love that clean, modern feel... very sleek and sophisticated. The actual observatory is probably labyrinthian with all sorts of weird rooms and stuff and the fact that it has all that space while also being on top of a volcano is kind of cool. 9/10!

Gangreen Gang

It's a dump but they keep it pretty clean! I would not want to live that close to garbage, though. The actual clubhouse gets a 8/10 (it's comfy in there, plus they have a kickass stereo system and can jam whenever they want!) but for the location, I give it a 3/10.

Princess Morbucks

Genuinely wanted her bedroom as a kid (I just like the idea of having a big comfy royal bed with that curtain above it, it's so fancyyyy), and I think it's so cool that she apparently has, like, all this other cool junk in her house. She's so snobby and would give me a 0/10 but I have to give her place at least a 9/10.

The Smiths

I'd hate my life too if I had Harold's house. 2/10, just a typical suburban home.

Lenny Baxter

You know this place smells musty and crusty and is covered with a thin coating of Cheeto dust. 0/10, burn it to the ground and keep his collection inside when you do.

Roach Coach

I'm saving the worst ones for last, apparently. 🤣 I'll give his apartment a 1/10 because I just think it's so bizarre that he even had an apartment to begin with. I get that we're supposed to think he's a human, but I wonder if it's like a Men In Black thing where he's a roach that just lives inside a robot body and needed the place for appearances. ...anyway, I give the actual apartment building a 5/10 because it actually didn't look bad. It’s actually pretty nice and clean. Why must Roach Coach keep his place in such squalor?!

Also, is he paying the rent for all of his roach friends, too? Wow. What a king.

Sedusa never really had a place to live and I refuse to count the dump because that's really the GGG's turf, so I'm giving Craig McCracken a 0/10 score for this. Shame!

Actually, since I'm such a sweet and kind and generous person, I will give him a 10/10 for just letting the Amoeba Boys kind of wander around without a real home either. They're too stupid to own real estate. Great commitment to character detail. 👍

If I forgot anyone else's lair let me know and I’ll add it!