#those who love me will understand me. those who don't... don't have to understand me.

[fishnapple]

People's assumptions about you

This reading is about the assumptions people in general have about you. Which might not be true to how you really are.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

LILAC

• You have a quiet, mysterious vibe that makes people think you have been through a lot. This kind of being experienced creates a sense of knowing, like nothing can faze you, you have seen enough, the good, the bad, everything in between about life.

• They also assume you wield your power well, you're used to it and you can use it to seduce people or to deter them from getting closer. There's a contradictory feeling about you, on one hand, you seem intense and seductive, on another, you're aloof and impartial. So people think that you just like to appear attractive for the sake of being attractive, not to attract anything or anyone in particular.

• Those who are lucky enough to get into your inner circle will be treated differently, with generous care and intuitive understanding.

• They could think you're from a religious background. Or someone with mixed races and have a diverse religious background.

• They could assume you come from money or are well taken care of.

• You seem to be good at learning, fast thinker, intelligent. No matter how you actually think about your intelligence, people will assume you're smart and don't have trouble solving problems. Maybe you talk fast, have knowledge about a wide variety of subjects or people usually see you learning, researching something, especially about some niche or taboo subjects. This also contributes to your mysterious aura.

• Some could assume you like casual relationships. You revel in social interactions, you can chat anyone up and have some friendly banters with them. You enjoy hanging out with people but you don't want to be involved too deeply with anyone. Your goal in interactions with people is usually to learn something new, to satiate your curiosity. Again, the thought of getting close to you, being considered more special than the rest by you, is a great ego boost to some people.

• You're good at hiding your more unsavoury side. People generally think you're calm and worry-free but some will have a little suspicion that you're hiding your negativity, it's like they can't believe there's actually anyone who has no worry or problem. Especially if you're being anxious about the future, feeling lonely or lost, you won't show it. The people who suspect about this will likely want to dig deep to get to see your problems.

GRAPEFRUIT

• You have a brilliant aura that makes people automatically assume you have it easy in life. Like someone who has been treated so well by life that they are so positive and lighthearted.

• Enthusiastic and mischievous, people will assume you're younger than your actual age.

• You have no problem convincing someone, pulling someone to your side purely by talking and debating. People can see your cleverness and humour clearly.

• People think you have a fast lifestyle, always on the move, rarely at home, never sitting still, don't settle down. They assume you have an extensive travel backlog. Some will want to give you advice about settling down, having a stable family life. Maybe they think you're too young or have too many things going on for you to consider those topics seriously, but you will, in the future.

• Based on your cheerful or carefree demeanour, some will guess you are not well disciplined or are spoiled. They think your upbringing was a little loose and lacked proper guidance, resulting in a freestyle way of living.

• Maybe the way you dress or the things you use will make people think you're careless about money or have a lot to spare. You like shopping, hoarding material possessions and are just generous with your money in general.

• Some could assume you're too easy-going and simple-minded, despite your expression of cleverness, like someone who is easy to be taken advantage of, gullible. Some would want to protect you because of that, others would want to take advantage of that.

• You seem to be well liked and have no trouble getting a date. If you're single, they will just assume that you probably don't want to commit, prefer to stay single by choice, if you want to, people would jump at the chance to date you.

• Some would think you prefer older people for friendship and connections in general, you like to be spoiled and taken care of. But they also can sense that you treasure your friendships greatly, those who can stick to you through thick and thin will be revered and respected by you.

• Some can see you easily getting stressed, over exerting or are afflicted with some illness frequently. They might think to themselves that's the consequences of living a fast life, or you're going through some stressful situations that you don't want to talk about.

PEAR

• Maybe your reputation precedes you. People could form assumptions of you based on what they heard about you, not necessarily from interactions with you. They think that you're really a go-getter, ambitious, if not sometimes ruthless. You act on your impulses and zero in your targets, you get what you want, one way or another. They could feel that being the target of your gaze would equal to being a prey. You could give off a no-nonsense and efficient vibe that won't tolerate misbehaviour and disrespect.

• But they also feel that you put great value on friendship and community bonds. You would be a great leader, a pioneer, a protector of your group.

• The thing is, not many assumptions about your are correct. People could hear or see one aspect of you and proceed to make up a whole story about you. You could be a favourite topic in gossip. Some would put you on a pedestal and can't see you do anything wrong, while some would be so ready to find any dirt about you to make you seem less than ideal.

• Some would assume you have unique dreams that you want to achieve. Those that normal people won't understand or sympathise with. You're on your own road, doing your own things. People think you're really daring, you won't sit contentedly with what you're having, you're not afraid to upset the status quo. If you find a new inspiration, a new objective, you will be ready to pack your bag and get up and go, leaving behind everything you have achieved. In a less dramatic sense, people sense that you have the ability to let go, to search for a new horizon without attachment to the past.

• Speaking of the past, some would think that you're a nostalgic person. Some hobbies and favourite things of yours are those of the past. You might still keep doing or enjoying something that you had done when you were a child. Childhood could be your soft spot, the one thing that you guard so fiercely.

• They feel that you come from a traditional family with parents in their traditional roles. And somehow, you don't want to follow their footsteps, you want to rebel, to challenge that system. You might want to stay single and independent, focusing on yourself rather than family and partnership.

• If you ever get into a partnership, people think that would involve some deals and terms, something beneficial that is worthwhile of your effort. You approach every partnership like a business one, negotiating the terms, striking a deal, exchanging of values.

CHERRY

• People think you're in a purging period. You're not satisfied with your current life and the direction it's going. It's like you've reached a plateau, you need to find a new direction, a new way of living your life. And people think you're really brave for that intention, you're not afraid to discard unnecessary things, old thinking patterns, limited beliefs. You're willing to give yourself a makeover. Fears seem to not faze you at all, there seem to be no emotional turmoil. You act with your instincts and your heart's desire, charging forward.

• But people don't think you're a flaky, changeable person. You only change when your life demands it, your ultimate goal is stability and a stronger foundation.

• On the topic of instincts, some people feel you're really spontaneous in love. You fall in love easily, suddenly, with the naivete of a child. You love being in love, you don't take into consideration other practical matters surrounding a relationship, you just jump in for the pure bliss of romance.

• They would guess that you're usually the one doing the pursuing and confessing first. There could be a pattern in the people you're attracted to or a pattern in your relationships. Some would think, quietly, that you might be not aware of some deeper aspects within yourself, manifesting as these patterns. Like a certain part of you is repressed or neglected, so you seek that part in the other person.

• But in general, people think you have a lot of love to give. Your brave heart is undeniable.

• Other than romance, people also think that you're artistic and creative. Your ideas are unique and refreshing, some could be a little too grand, too far reaching. Some could guess that your job involves this kind of artistic talent.

• The way you act makes some feel that you're being sheltered by the people around you, like a precious child being protected by the community. But there's no envy or negative emotion here, they just observe that and can understand by themselves why you're like that. There's a honesty, a purity of thoughts in the way you express yourself and the way you share with people. They think you deserve that kind of good treatment.

• Also, due to that perceived honesty, some would feel comfortable confiding in you, they trust that you would keep their secrets for them.

GOLD

• The first thing people would assume about you is that you love hanging out with people, socialising, and having superficial fun with anyone you come across. You seem lighthearted like an excited kid in the middle of a carnival, wanting to see everything, to taste everything.

• People also think you like to shine, to feel seen and applauded. You're gregarious and seem to have no difficulty being yourself in front of a crowd. A bright confidence. Some would assume you like to be in a crowd because you like the attention. But most just assume you're friendly and have an extrovert nature.

• A few would try to guess the base of your desire to mingle with people. They think you're lonely or are sad about something, and you want to soothe that feeling by being with people, seeking the warmth of others. But most people don't seem to think too deeply about your nature, some would even find it hard to believe you're having some emotional turmoil inside.

• Some with a more suspicious nature might think you like to use joke and sarcasm to mask your insecurities and the difficulties you're having in your life. They think you're running away from the problems, trying to stay positive while a future disaster is pressing on your nerves. They think you need to change something or to be more brave in taking a new endeavour. It's not malicious though, they want to help and support you because they think you have potential.

• Right now, you seem to be pretty settled down with your life, doing things routinely, repeating days after days, like a drill. Some think that you're running in circles, wasting your time by immersing in the mundane details of other people's lives while refusing to look further for your own life. Or they assume your work requires that kind of lifestyle. You seem like a busybee, moving, talking constantly.

• People would assume based on your outgoing nature and the carefree way you show yourself, you have an active and passionate sex life. Your sexuality might be the question lots of people have in mind. Some would assume you can be quite dominant and aggressive in bed.

HONEY

• The assumptions about you would change a lot with time. Each period of your life will be accompanied by different assumptions from people. Could be that with each period, you are in a different environment with different types of people. So their values and beliefs would be different. Consequently, their assumptions about you and everything around them in general would be different. But the common point between these assumptions is that, they usually don't reflect your true self very well, people would likely be surprised when they get closer to you.

• At first glance, they assume that you're very passionate and full of ardour. You're optimistic and like to believe in a bright future, regardless of your current situation.

• People would think that you're a relationship person. Another group also has a passionate and confident air about them when it comes to love and romance, but yours is softer and feels more mature. People think you don't chase love, but by being so intensely you, you attract love wherever you go.

• They would assume that being love by you would be an unforgettable experience, the kind of love that is so pure and nurturing, where you can put your heart out into the open. Some people would fall for your perceived ability to love. Your potential of being a lover.

• Right now, you seem to focus more on securing material comfort and building a foundation for yourself rather than focusing on relationships. You can be perceived as a very hardworking person, to the point of being a workaholic. The people who want to approach you think you don't have time for them. You completely committed yourself to your work and study. Determined to be stable and thriving.

• Money and material possessions might be a source of comfort for you. They think you would try everything to achieve that, even using some tricks or personal talents to help you get ahead. Nothing too serious or negative though, they just feel that you have a knack for completing tasks faster, skillful and flexible.

• If someone knows more about your upbringing and the traditional values surrounding it, they would assume that the you right now is rebelling against those values. It's like you've reinvented yourself anew, away from the old values that no longer resonate with you. You could have been disillusioned by them, a naive believer. But now you stand on your own, find and build your own set of values. You could change your jobs, your studies, your living places because of that.

[jinniejjam]

Breaking Down Walls

✎ CollegeBand!Bang Chan x nerdyAfab!Reader

✎ Nerdy College AU, Emotional, strangers to Lovers, 18+ MDNI! NSFW, Slight breeding Kink and bulge kink, creampie, cunilingus.

✎ 5,9k

✎ Synopsis: Bang Chan, the campus heartthrob, reluctantly seeks help from Y/N, a no-nonsense tutor who doesn’t trust boys like him. As late-night study sessions turn into something more, their differences blur, and unexpected feelings emerge, challenging both their walls.

A/n : hii guyss, another Chan X Nerdy again loll, i just love this trope so muchh! Enjoyy and please don't mind the typo or the grammatical error^^

— Bae

You stared at the email on your laptop screen, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach.

Dear Y/n,

Professor Lee has recommended you for a special tutoring assignment. The student, Christopher Bang, has been struggling with his coursework and could use your expertise. We believe you are the right person for this. Thank you for your cooperation.

Best,

Academic Support Team

You groaned audibly and smacked your forehead against your desk. Christopher Bang. Everyone on campus called him “Bang Chan,” the lead singer of a campus-famous band. He was the kind of guy who was perpetually surrounded by a sea of admirers, always with an easy grin and a cocky confidence that screamed trouble.

You didn’t have time for trouble.

When Professor Lee mentioned this tutoring opportunity during class, you thought it’d be for someone serious. Someone who genuinely wanted help—not a guy who probably spent more time flirting than studying.

Still, you couldn’t exactly back out now. The professor had personally vouched for you. Besides, you needed the extra credit this gig offered. So, with a deep sigh and a firm resolution to keep things strictly professional, you emailed Chan back to arrange your first meeting.

"Tuesday, 4 PM. Library. Be on time."

It was Tuesday at 4:17 PM, and you were tapping your pen against the library table, glaring at the clock.

Of course, he’s late.

You had your laptop open, notes prepared, and a coffee you’d already drained. The quiet hum of the library did nothing to calm your irritation.

Just as you were about to send him a passive-aggressive follow-up email, you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey! Sorry, sorry—I got caught up!”

You looked up to see him. Bang Chan, in the flesh. His dark hair was slightly messy, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and his leather jacket was slung carelessly over his shoulder. He looked every bit the campus heartthrob you’d expected, complete with that infuriatingly charming smile.

“You’re late,” you said flatly, refusing to return his smile.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty as charged. Traffic on the way here was brutal.”

“This is a walking campus,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, unbothered by your sarcasm. “Touché.”

You sighed and motioned for him to sit down. “Let’s get started. I assume you know why you’re here.”

“Enlighten me.” He plopped down across from you, leaning back in the chair with an air of relaxed confidence.

You slid a piece of paper across the table. “Your midterm grades. Let’s just say they’re not exactly... stellar.”

Chan winced as he glanced at the sheet. “Yikes.”

“Yikes indeed,” you said dryly. “If you want to pass this course, you need to take this seriously. No distractions, no excuses.”

“Got it. Serious. No distractions.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes. “But just to clarify—you’re not a distraction, right?”

Your jaw tightened, and you rolled your eyes. “We’re not here to play games, Bang.”

“Call me Chan,” he said with a wink.

You ignored him and opened your laptop. “Let’s start with last week’s lecture material.”

Despite your initial assumptions, Chan actually seemed... attentive. He took notes, asked questions, and even admitted when he didn’t understand something.

“Wait, so this formula—does it only work for linear functions, or can it apply to quadratic ones too?” he asked, frowning at his notebook.

You blinked. That was actually a decent question. “It’s primarily for linear functions, but there are variations you can use for quadratic ones. Want me to show you?”

“Please.”

As you explained, you couldn’t help but notice how focused he was. His pen tapped lightly against the notebook, and his brow furrowed in concentration. He even nodded along occasionally, muttering things like, “Okay, that makes sense now.”

It was... unexpected.

“So, do you actually want to pass this course, or are you just here because your professor made you?” you asked after a while, unable to hide your curiosity.

Chan looked up, surprised by the question. Then he smiled—this time, it wasn’t the cocky grin you’d seen earlier. It was softer, almost sheepish.

“I mean, yeah. I’ve got a lot on my plate, but I don’t want to fail. Music’s my thing, sure, but I don’t want to let my grades tank either.”

Something about his honesty caught you off guard. Maybe he wasn’t as shallow as you’d assumed.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat, “if you keep this up, you might actually pass.”

He smirked, the cockiness returning. “Is that a compliment, tutor?”

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, trying—and failing—not to smile.

--

The next few sessions followed a similar pattern. You’d meet in the library, Chan would inevitably charm his way through your carefully constructed defenses, and you’d catch yourself noticing more than his academic progress.

It was frustrating.

“Okay, I think I’ve got this,” Chan said one evening, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “All thanks to my amazing tutor.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth rising to your cheeks. “Flattery doesn’t get you bonus points.”

“Good thing I’m not doing it for points.”

Your pen paused mid-sentence. His voice had dipped slightly, teasing, but there was something about the way he said it—soft and genuine—that made your chest tighten.

“Focus, Chan,” you muttered, flipping to the next page of notes.

“Right. Focus,” he echoed, but you caught the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

---

The tension reached a boiling point during one particularly late session. The library was practically deserted, save for the two of you tucked away in a quiet corner.

“Okay, last problem,” you said, sliding your notebook toward him. “Solve this, and we’re done for tonight.”

Chan groaned but picked up his pen. You leaned back, watching as his brows furrowed in concentration. He tapped the pen against his lips—a habit you’d noticed—and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to check your phone.

“How’d I do?” he asked, sliding the notebook back to you.

You scanned his work, nodding slowly. “Not bad. You’re actually starting to get the hang of this.”

“Wow. Another compliment?” he teased, leaning closer. “You’re spoiling me, tutor.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Don’t get used to it.”

But then, as you reached for your notebook, your fingers brushed against his. It was a brief, almost insignificant touch, but it sent a jolt through you.

You glanced up, and Chan was already looking at you, his eyes searching yours.

The air shifted.

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in that small, quiet corner of the library.

“You know,” he began softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re a lot more fun to be around than you let on.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. “Chan—”

“Relax,” he said, leaning back with a playful grin. “I’m just messing with you. Unless... you don’t want me to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, burning with heat. “Goodnight, Chan.”

As you packed up your things and left, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted—something you weren’t quite ready to face yet.

---

The shift came unexpectedly a week later, during a particularly bad storm. You’d just finished your last class of the day when your phone buzzed.

Chan: “Library’s closed. Raincheck?”

You sighed, staring out the window at the torrential downpour. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to stay in, but something about the thought of Chan struggling with the material alone bothered you. Before you could overthink it, you replied:

You: “Come to my dorm. Bring your notes.”

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at your door.

“Hey,” Chan said, slightly breathless. His hair was damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his leather jacket.

“You look like a wet puppy,” you teased, stepping aside to let him in.

“And you’re as welcoming as ever,” he shot back, but there was no malice in his tone—just the easy, teasing warmth you’d come to associate with him.

As the session went on, you noticed Chan seemed... off. He was quieter than usual, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more subdued.

“You okay?” you asked finally, setting your notebook aside.

He hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s just... a lot. The band, school, everything. Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. For all his confidence, it was moments like these that reminded you he wasn’t as invincible as he seemed.

“You’re doing fine,” you said softly, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your tone. “You just need to give yourself some credit.”

Chan looked up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the unspoken tension between you thickening.

“Thanks,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “You’re doing the work. I’m just here to guide you.”

Chan gave you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still... It’s nice to hear. Sometimes, it feels like everyone only sees what they want to see, you know?”

You nodded, understanding more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. People look at me and think, ‘nerdy girl who has her life together.’ But they don’t see the rest—the doubts, the late nights wondering if I’m good enough, or if I’ll ever be more than just... this.”

Chan tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face. “Why would you think that? You’re... incredible. Smart, focused, driven—”

“Boring,” you interrupted with a bitter laugh.

“No.” His tone was firm, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. “You’re anything but boring.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, you looked away, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your notebook. “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying it because... well, that’s what guys like you do.”

“Guys like me?” Chan repeated, his voice laced with curiosity.

“You know.” You waved a hand vaguely. “The popular, charismatic type. Always knowing exactly what to say to get what you want.”

His expression softened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

You glanced at him, skepticism evident in your eyes. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “You think I have it all figured out, but most days, I’m just trying to keep my head above water. And if I seem like I know what to say, it’s only because I’ve spent my whole life trying to make people happy. It’s exhausting.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and for the first time, you saw him—really saw him—as more than just the confident, untouchable guy everyone adored.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” you admitted quietly.

“Not many people do.” He smiled faintly. “But I feel like... I can be real with you. Like I don’t have to put on a show.”

Something shifted in your chest, a warmth spreading through you that you hadn’t expected.

“Same,” you murmured. “I don’t know why, but... you make me feel like I can let my guard down, too. It’s scary.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because... I’ve spent so long convincing myself that people like you and me don’t mix.”

Chan reached out then, his hand covering yours. The gesture was gentle, tentative, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

“Maybe we’re not so different,” he said softly. “And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

You looked at him, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

“Chan—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. His eyes searched yours, asking a silent question.

When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was hesitant at first—testing the waters—but quickly deepened as you responded.

Your hands moved almost instinctively, one tangling in his damp hair while the other rested against his chest. His heart was racing, beating in time with yours as the kiss grew hungrier.

Chan pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “Is this okay?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, and you felt yourself melting into him.

The books and papers scattered across the table were long forgotten as he pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist, anchoring you to him.

The storm outside raged on, but inside, everything felt still—like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you found yourself smiling despite the heat of the moment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Chan chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pressed kisses along your jawline, trailing down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, a shiver ran through you, and you tightened your grip on him, pulling him impossibly closer, for the first time, you let yourself stop overthinking. You stopped doubting his intentions, stopped worrying about what this meant. In that moment, it was just you and him, tangled together in a whirlwind of affection and desire, and it felt... right.

The intensity between you grew, as the room seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you in your shared bubble. Chan's hands trailed gently along your waist, his touch firm but careful, like he was afraid you might dissapear if he pressed too hard.

"Wait," you murmured suddenly, pulling back slightly.

Chan froze immediately, his hands dropping to his sides, his breathing was ragged, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. "What's wrong?" He asked softly, concern flickering in his eyes.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I just... i need to know this isn't just a game for you."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your question. "What? No. It's not a game. Why would you think that?"

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Because guys like you—"

"Stop saying that," he interupted, his tone gentle but firm, he gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushed lightly in your cheek "I'm not some stereotype, neither are you. I know i've got reputation but that's not who i am—not when im with you."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. Slowly, you looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no hint of the cocky playfulness that he usually do. Instead, his eyes were full of something deeper, Something real.

"I like you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not just for this. For everything. The way you so passionate about what you do, the way you don't take anyone's crap, the way you challenge me to better."

Your chest tightened at his confession, a warmth spreading through you that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I like you, too," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, seeing him in that vulnerable state make your heart weak.

Chan's lips curved into a soft smile. "Good. Then let me prove it to you."

Before you could even respond, he kissed you again—this time slower, more deliberate. It wasn't just about the heat or the tension, it was about connection, it was about trust.

As the kiss deepened, you found yourself letting go of every lingering doubt. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he responded by wraping his arms securely around your waist.

The storm outside seemed to mirror the intensity between you, thunder rumbling in the distance as the rain pounded against the window.

Chan's hands slip up your sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat in it's wake. His lips moved from yours to your neck, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses along your skin, sucking the skin under your colarbone untill it turn purple, marking you as his.

"Chan," you breathed, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own heartbeat. he reached for the hem of your sweater, his hands firm as he yanked it off with sudden force, sending it flying across the room. The fabric brushed your skin before it landed, discarded in the corner.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire but still full of that same tenderness "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice husky but laced with care.

"It's not," you assured him, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Its perfect."

The words seems to spur him on, and he captured your lips again, his kisses grow hungry.

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the edge of the desk, the paper and books scattered around the desk now laying on the floor. He trail kisses from your neck down to your clothed breasts, his fingers brushing against the plush skin, squeezing your tits with his big hands.

Your breath hitched at the contact, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours. "Is this okay?" He asked again, his voice steady despite the beat between you.

"Yes," you whispered, your cheek flushing.

He continue to assault your tits, yanking the bra off to suck on your right nipple, making you let out a loud moan from the feeling of his warm tongue swirling around your perked nipple, he let go of your right nipple to lick and play with your other nipple, giving it the same service, making you squeze his shoulder from the sensation.

His hand trail your curve and gripping your waist, he let go of your nipple with a pop, he smilled—a soft, almost shy smile that made your heart flutter— he leaned in to kiss you again.

His hands were still on your waist, his grip firm as he guided you to stand, before you could react, he was lifting you effortlesly, the next thing you knew, you were perched on the edge of the desk the cool surface hitting the back of your thigh sending a shiver down your spine.

He stepped closer, his breath hot against your ear as his hands brushed the side of your body, pulling you in with a controlled intensity. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, lips still attached to yours— his tongue slipped in to your mouth—guiding you closer until you were flush against him, the proximity sending a wave of heat through you.

He pulled back slightly from the kiss, "Look at me," he murmured, his voice low and commanding but tinged with something softer, something you couldn't quite place. You met his gaze, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Spread your leg for me baby."

Chan’s eyes flickered with something dark and unreadable as he waited, giving you a moment to decide. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and the quiet hum of the room felt louder than anything.

You could feel the heat between you two growing, the closeness undeniable as his fingers lightly traced the inside of your thighs, his touch a contrast to the urgency in his eyes. Slowly, you shifted, obeying the unspoken command, spreading your legs just enough for him to move closer.

He leaned in, his breath fanning over your lips, but he didn’t kiss you right away. Instead, his hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his, searching your eyes for something—permission, reassurance, understanding. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his gaze softening for a brief moment.

“You’re sure?” His voice was barely a whisper, the weight of his question settling between you, the intensity in his eyes matching the tension in your body. His hand was still on your thigh, but there was something so much deeper in his touch, as if he was waiting for you to guide him, to tell him you were ready.

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. You didn’t need words anymore. The pull between you two was magnetic, and you knew that despite the hesitation in your chest, there was no turning back.

He smiled softly, his lips brushing against yours for a brief moment, the kiss slow, tender, before his lips parted from yours, trailing down to your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers through you. As his hands slid further up your body, his movements were deliberate, almost teasing, drawing out the anticipation.

He move his hand to cupped your aching core, "So wet already, hm? So eager aren't we?" Your heart pounded louder now, the room seeming to close in around you. Every touch, every breath felt amplified as you finally let yourself sink into the moment, unable to resist the pull of everything that had been building between you.

He paused again, his gaze meeting yours, that soft, unspoken understanding passing between you two. And then, as if to confirm the depth of what was happening, he murmured, “I’ve wanted this... wanted you... for so long, you have no idea what you've done to me" he said with a hoarsh groan falling from his lips, while his hand still drawing small sircle around your bundle of nerve making you squirm and moaning mess for him.

"Mmh chan, please." You were not even sure what you were begging for, but you just need him to ruin you into a complete mess with his touch.

He chuckled, low and deep, a sound that sent shivers down your spine making the wet spot on your panties even more visible.

Chan didn't stop swirling your clit watching you squirming under his touch, chasing your pleasure like a cat in a heat.

"Sshh sshh, patient kitten, patient." He said, stopping his finger movement on you, leaving you whining in the lost of contact. But not too long after, Chan lowered his height, pushing your knees to spread your leg even wider for him, displaying your damp panties.

You moan to the sight, him kneeling between your leg, spreading you open like that was never on your bingo card. Chan look up to you, drawing a small sircle on your inner thigh, asking for your consent once again, you nodded eagerly, you already so wet it literally drenched. "Please, Chan" you whine, feeling so desperate for his touch.

He chuckled, seeing you so desperate like this is so cute but also turning him on, Chan hook his finger to move your drenched panties to the side, displaying your glistening pussy clenching around nothing. He mutter "Fuck—" from the sight, "You're leaking baby, holy shit" your pussy is so wet—drench even— he bet he could slide right in right then and there, but he didn't want to rush, he wants to take this moment slowly, savoring every inch of your body, worshiping it, he wants to make love to you.

He began to run his finger up and down your slit, teasing the clit with his thumb, brushing it slowly making squelching noise from how wet you were. "You hear that baby?" He said, looking up to watch your fucked out expression, lips swollen from how much you bite it to muffle your sound, eyes looking down at him, you look so pretty like this—he thought.

Seeing you enjoying his action, Bang Chan started to get bold, he lick a fat stripe along your fold making you let out the most pornographic sound that you don't even know you could. "Ahhh Chanh fuck" eyes rolling back to the back of your head, the feeling of his warm tongue on your pussy is top notch, you never feel this good before. He continue his action, licking your cunt skillfully leaving you breathy and a moaning mess, hand fall to his head, gripping his hair for the overwhelming pleasure, that sent a shiver down his spine, the sound that u made is enough to make him rock hard and trying so hard not to bust in his pants.

"Fuck baby, keep moaning my name like that mmhh you taste so sweet" he said while giving your clit a kitten lick, making you feel a knot bubbling in your lower belly, a strange feeling that you've never experience before.

Your moan getting louder in each flick of his tongue, Chan knew that you were so close, he try to elevate the pleasure, he insert 2 finger into your hole, making you scream and tug his hair harder, the painfull stings on his scalp sending a rush right in to his throbing cock making him moan onto your pussy, the humm create a buzz who made you clench on his digit, making the knot inside your belly tighten, you are so close.

"Chanh i–i nghh fuck" the words die in your throat, he chuckle, quicken his finger pace, pumping his finger into you faster, curling it in the right spot where you can see the star.

"Cum princess, let go, cum on my mouth like a good girl you are" he keep hitting that certain spot with an unbelievably quick pace, making you break and cum on his mouth, your orgasm washes over like a tsunami, leaving you breathless from the intense orgasm you just had.

Chan sit up from his position, licking his lips clean, your wetness spreading all over his chin, the sight is blissful making you blush so hard, heat rushing up to your cheeks seeing him covered in your cum.

His smirk grew wider as he leaned in, his fingers sliding down to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’re blushing, darling,” he teased, his voice low and smooth, dripping with mischief. “Did I make you shy, or was it the way you screamed my name?”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words sending a wave of heat rushing through your entire body. You tried to look away, but he caught you, gently pressing his forehead to yours. His scent enveloped you—warm, intoxicating, and entirely him.

“Don’t hide from me now,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours. “I want to see every bit of you like this. All messy, all mine.”

His lips found the corner of your mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss that sent sparks racing through you. Then another kiss, softer, right below your jaw. Each touch was deliberate, leaving you breathless and clinging to his shoulders for balance.

“Chan,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice shaky but laced with yearning.

He hummed against your skin, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you, "Say it again," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. His gaze was dark, filled with something unspoken yet undeniable.

Your lips parted, and before you could even utter another word, his mouth was on yours— hungry, claiming, leaving no room for hesitation. His hand reaching to the waistband of your panties, sliding it down to your ankle, leaving you bare for him, the cold air hitting your core sent a shiver all over your body, making you gasp from the contact. His hands sliding back to your waist, pulling you flush against him, grinding his rock hard cock on your bare pussy.

The contact drew a chorus of moans from both of you, the raw pleasure sparking between your bodies like fire. “You feel that, baby?” Chan groaned, his voice thick and ragged, hips grinding against you with deliberate force. “Fuck… look what you do to me.”

His lips parted, his breath shallow and uneven as he took in the sight of you beneath him, flushed and needy. It was enough to snap the last thread of his patience. Without wasting another second, his hands moved with purpose, fingers fumbling slightly as he unbuckled his belt. The sharp clink echoed in the heated air, sending a thrill down your spine.

His gaze never left you, dark and full of promise, as he freed himself, his cock springing to life in his hand. “I can’t wait any longer, can i baby?” he murmured, the desperation in his tone making your heart race but the way he still asking for your consent is making you melt, you nod eagerly, muttering a soft "Please," that makes Chan groaning in return.

Your breath hitched as his hand returned to your waist, steadying you as the tip of his cock brushed against your entrance. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Relax, baby,” Chan murmured, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, he pushed forward, the stretch making you gasp, your body adjusting to the delicious intrusion. His low groan vibrated against your skin as he buried himself inside you inch by inch, his head falling to the crook of your neck.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his voice shaking with restraint. “So tight… so warm… just for me.”

Your nails dug into his back, your mind hazy with pleasure as he finally stilled, letting you catch your breath. He pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his hands stroking your sides soothingly, grounding you in the moment.

“Tell me how you feel,” he urged, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn’t find the words, overwhelmed by the fullness and the way your bodies seemed to meld together. Instead, you let out a shaky moan, tilting your hips slightly in response. That was all the encouragement he needed.

Chan began to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, slow and deep. The sensation was maddening, each roll of his hips perfectly measured to drive you wild. He set a pace that was both tender and commanding, as though he wanted to savor every second while still unraveling you completely.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough but filled with affection. You opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze. The way he looked at you—with unbridled desire and something much deeper—made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a deep thrust that left you gasping. "And i'm going to show you exactly what that means."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone making your core tighten around him. Chan groaned at the feeling, his control slipping as he snapped his hips harder, pulling a cry from your lips.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips as if anchoring himself. “You’re taking me so well, baby. So good for me.”

Each thrust seemed to claim you further, his movements growing more desperate as your moans filled the room. The sound of your bodies meeting was intoxicating, mixing with the broken gasps and groans that spilled freely from both of you.

“Chan, please,” you whimpered, your body trembling under his relentless rhythm.

“Please what, baby?” he teased, though his voice was strained, his forehead damp with sweat. He slowed his pace just enough to drive you insane, his cock dragging against your most sensitive spots with every deliberate stroke.

“Faster,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his arms. “Don’t stop.”

His smirk returned, though it was softer now, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting kiss. “Anything for you,” he murmured.

With that, he adjusted his grip, pulling your legs higher around his waist as he slammed into you, deeper and harder than before. The angle was devastating, and you cried out, your body arching into him as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, his voice rough and full of pride. “I can feel you, baby. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You nodded frantically, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “You’re gonna take everything I give you, aren’t you? Let me fill you up, baby. Let me make you mine in every way.”

The heat pooling in your stomach surged at his words, the thought pushing you even closer to the edge.

“Yes,” you whimpered, your voice trembling. “I’m yours. Always.”

“That’s right,” he growled, his pace quickening, each thrust hitting deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he said, and his palm pressing to the buldge visible on your lower belly, where his cock going in and out.

The tension inside you snapped with his words, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you as your walls clenched around him. You cried out his name, your body trembling as pleasure overwhelmed you.

Chan cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering as your release pulled him over the edge. He buried himself deep with a guttural groan, his warmth spilling into you as he held you close, his grip on your hips unrelenting.

“Fuck,” he panted, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath. ��You’re perfect. You were made for me, baby.”

As the intensity of the moment passed, the room fell into a quieter, more peaceful rhythm. Chan pulled out slowly, carefully adjusting you so that you were no longer perched on the desk but supported against him, still breathing heavily. His hands gently cupped your face, his touch tender and reassuring.

“Hey, baby, are you okay?” His voice was soft, the previous urgency replaced by a genuine concern. His eyes searched yours, his gaze warm and comforting.

You nodded, still catching your breath, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your hands gently brushing his chest as you let your head rest against him.

Chan let out a breath of relief, his hand sliding down to your back as he pulled you closer to him, his warmth grounding you. He held you against him, his lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss.

“You were amazing,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection. “I’ve got you, alright? Just breathe, take your time.”

His hands continued to move gently over your skin, tracing circles along your back and shoulders as if he were trying to erase any tension that might have lingered.

After a few moments, you met his gaze again, your heart still racing but feeling safe and cherished in his arms. “Thank you,” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “For being so gentle…”

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Anything for you, baby."

Chan leaned in and kissed you again, slow and tender this time, his lips soft against yours. When he pulled back, he continued to hold you close, his hands never leaving your body.

“You’re perfect," he said, giving your lips a light peck.

The air was still heavy with the aftermath, but now it felt like a calming silence, the love and care in his words washing over you like a warm tide. You stayed close, letting the quiet moments stretch out between you, savoring the feeling of his presence.

[argonautsoul]

“Oh, to be able to be admired, cared for, loved, without needing to do any other thing than existing. No need to fight. Just to care, and nourish one and each other...”

Love isn’t something you feel, though. It’s something you do. And so,

loving someone is loving who they are.

When people feel that they are not understood, it frequently is due to not enough empathy going both ways...

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

Here, one is actually saying: “I was in love with the fantasy relationship I wanted him/her to give me, but s/he wasn't offering me that; (I didn't like the way s/he was treating me)”.

Whatever you understand about your partner is your perspective. It is not what s/he really is. Whatever you attribute to your partner is in relation to you.

True love is based on accepting each other as they are... and you can't love something that you actually don't like... you can't love the other one if you don't actually enjoy the way s/he makes you feel.

Preferences are more about us than the other person, so first, try to give yourself what you are seeking from your date or partner.

Love isn't about trying to change someone to fit our idea of perfect.

What's more,

Forever, one can not fully understand the other one at all. This is the beauty of how they were created. Therefore, there is conflict between them.

Even within ourselves, there are/can be some deep-seated subconscious behaviours and beliefs that we don’t understand.

It is about accepting the whole person, even the parts you don't fully understand or agree with.

People's personalities change and grow over time. As you go through life together, you'll see new sides of each other. True love allows for that growth and accepts the ever-changing nature of your partner, even as their outer personality shifts. 

Any relationship is in a state of change, part of which is continuous knowledge of the other.

“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.”

 — Fred Rogers

And hence, constant effort is needed to accept and adjust themselves to keep up with the changing lifestyles along the way with the changing society.

It takes time to grow together. And we want the maturity in a relationship that comes with time, the emotional connect that develops over years, that sense of belonging when we barely even know the other person... Apparently, nothing is worth our time, effort, and patience. Not even love. Relationships, however, require energy and participation.

Cognitive biases can be particularly damaging because they distort our perceptions and interpretations of our partners' actions and motives.

Cognitive bias is so difficult to acknowledge, understand, or be aware of within ourselves because we actively protect our beliefs. Sometimes, this means denying truth or new information that comes to us (a la cognitive dissonance).

In addition,

Depressed people don’t have the energy, and if they are caught up in the very common mode of isolation because of their depression they are definitely not participating... sometimes, there is an element of mental illness involved in this arena in general.

Lastly,

We don't really need an intellectual twin who can finish our sentences.

And that level of interconnection isn’t necessary. As long as they treat you appropriately, even if they don’t understand you completely, you can still have a very fulfilling relationship.

Love is a commitment, not about the mushy gushy feelings.

Let the commitment be the beginning of understanding. 

══════☸☸☸══════

Too often, in this culture, we cloud the picture, overanalyze, fear those conscious efforts, and insist that love means something very definable and ultimately acceptable — don’t get sucked into the madness, stay in your true path and please, please find a partner who is similar to you (i.e., hold similar values), who cares about your thoughts and feelings, and genuinely enjoys your company.

And read “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. It’s eye-opening to realize that someone may be figuratively shouting their love from the rooftops — but you aren’t “hearing” it. Communication is key, as long as you understand your partner’s language.

.

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

[silversurfersx]

media duties | f1grid pt.2

part 1

f1 grid x driver!reader [smau] - part 2

summary: the reader does anything to escape her media duties

faceclaim: Jamie chadwick and random peopke I found on ointerest

warnings: swearing, theoretical violence

liked by georgerussel63, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: got a visitor in the paddock today😊 he had the cooler car 😔

view comments

user: is alex ok?

user: what happened in slide 3???

alex_albon: why did you post this?

yourusername: bc auggie is adorable alex_albon: obviously, but that's not what I meant yourusername: oh you mean me hitting you with my car... yeah, that's meant as a threat for everyone alex_albon: what for? yourusername: leading Netflix to my secret hideout alex_albon: you were hiding in the Haas hospitality with Auggie and the Haas kids yourusername: yeah I couldn't understand a word those two said

user: ah yes...

user: is it weird that I'm jealous of auggie's car?

user: no, cause same

___

Auggie cruised in his Spiderman toy car in front of you through the paddock. In high pitched squeaks he imitated motor noises.

Chuckling at the small boy, you followed along grabbing your phone from your pocket when you felt a ping. Looking down you saw Alex's message about Netflix wanting to film a segment once again.

'I can't, I gotta take care of auggie, sorry'

You texted back, looking for another excuse, as you knew that taking care of Auggie wasn't the best excuse, as there were enough people at Williams who could look after your nephew for an hour. They did when you raced as well.

Your eyes moved over the paddock, stopping on Nico Hulkenberg kneeling alongside his daughter, who was Auggie's age.

"Auggie, what do you think about making a new friend?"

The blonde boy turned back, quickly hitting the brakes of his toy car. "A new friend?"

"Yeah, you see that girl over there?" You nodded at the small girl, whose name you never really learned. "She looks nice, doesn't she?"

"Yes! Do you think she wants to be my friend?" The boy asked eyes wide in question. You shrugged. "Maybe we could go and ask."

"Yes!"

___

___

"Y/N what are your plans for next year?" The media person asked rising to their feat in the crowd of reporters during the press conference.

Slowly you lifted the microphone up to your lips. "I don't know."

"You were seen in the Haas hospitality earlier today. Was it contract related or did you hide from someone again?" They asked which was followed by chuckles from everyone in the room.

Smiling you answered. "I was hiding."

Again chuckles erupted.

"Did you get caught?" Max interrupted from next to you on the couch. Laughing you nodded. "Yeah, Alex told on me."

"Ah, you shouldn't have told him." Max reprimanded you.

"Yeah, I know." You nodded. "But I hit him with my car, so now we're even." You argumented, ignoring the wide eyes from the media. Yuki grinned from beside Max, who couldn't hide his own amusement.

"That seems alright then." Max replied.

"If i may interrupt and go back to my initial question." The reporter interrupted. "Y/N, what are your plans for next year, do you have a new contract in sight?"

"Not really." You shrugged. It was a lie, but it wasn't any of their business, yet and you didn't even know if t would work out.

___

liked by sebastianvettel, francolapinto, williamsracing and others

yourusername: a great honour to be able to join seb and his crew!❤

It was an absolute honour meeting you, seb and all the people who worked this project. I am proud to have been part of this!!!🇧🇷🤩🥰

SennaForver 🇧🇷🇧🇷

view comments

user: absolutely beautiful what you did

user: we love seb!

user: senna forever!!!

sebastianvettel: it was an honour to have you join us as well❤ [liked by yoursusername]

alex_albon: so this is where you went?

___

___

It was only logical that a day would come, where you were actually late for media duties, though no one believed you. Your constant lying about your whereabouts during media duties finally got to you.

"Where did you hide out this time?" Alex greeted you when you ran on stage for the fan event. "I didn't, I swear, I fell asleep and forgot to set an alarm."

Alex looked at you suspiciously, not quite believing you. "Was it Max?"

"No, I swear, I slept in." You tried to reassure. Looking out at the crowd you tried to convince them. "Sorry guys, but I swear I did sleep."

Laughs filled the crowd at you attempts of convincing.

"Was that a 'we believe you'- laugh?" You asked receiving once again a similar laugh. Leaning back to look at the Alpine boys who were with you. "Are they laughing at me or with me?"

"I think at you." Pierre teased and Esteban joined. "I would too."

"At least I know I'm funny." You replied, grinning.

Alex leaned towards you, putting the microphone away from his mouth. "Did you actually sleep in?"

"Yes, I swear." You replied.

___

___

liked by landonorris, alexalbon, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: I swear guys i played too much sims and fell asleep... also I got a special helmet ⛑️

view comments

user: she's out here fighting for her life, haha

user: happens to the best of us

user: damn, she's fighting harder than when she's escaping Netflix

landonorris: did u feed me?

yourusername: i let you drown in the pool, lol landonorris: what 🙂 yourusername: oscar was really sad oscarpiastri: nah landonorris: 🥲 yourusername: that's rough

alexalbon: but did you?

yourusername: 🤡

user: sick helmet ⛑️

user: are we all just gonna ignore lando?

yourusername: ignoring him is always the safest option 👍

___

Drive to Survive interview:

"Hello, my name is Y/N Y/LN and I am racing for Williams Racing." You closed the clap with a tight smile, the bright lights surrounding you blinded you.

"Okay, great, it's good to finally catch you." The reporter announced making you unwillingly smile. "Yeah, you guys are very adamant, just wouldn't give up."

"We promise to keep it short for you." The woman laughed.

"Grand."

"Where did you hide this time?" The question continued.

"At Aston."

"Is it nice there?" The woman said as the interview continued.

"It's very green."

"Oh, I bet. How are you finding this season as it is slowly ending? What are your plans for next season, there are only a handful of seats left?" The interviewer pressed as you shifted in your seat knowing what she was out for. Carlos took your Williams seat for next year, so the question arises, 'what should you do?'.

Obviously you were in talks with a few people, looking over the open seats and even at spots in other categories like wec.

"It's been crazy, but I know what I'm doing."

"So you got a plan?" The woman asked curiously. "Is it for vcarb? They've been looking at you, I've heard."

You shrugged pursing your lips . "RedBull sugar free? Who knows."

"You're really not giving us anything, aren't you?" She interviewer chuckled and you smiled cockily.

"Nope." You looked over the camera personal, as the interviewer searched her notes. "Are we finished? Do you just cut to some dramatic scenes of me now?"

The lady shook her head chuckling. "Not quite, sorry."

Internally sighing in disappointment you nodded.

"Alright."

___

[CAPTION] thank you Charles (my secret santa) for the invisability cloak, now I can hide even better☺️🧙‍♀️

charles_leclerc: you are welcome ☺️🥰 yourusername: 😘

[hanniebaeee]

Code Love

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!!

Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufffff

Summary: Hyunjin is a brilliant post doc at the lab where you're perusing your PhD. He is such a sweet and sexy genius, and you are completely in love.

a/n : For all my science/research girlies 🤭

It was another late night at the lab. You were squinting at the test tubes in front of you trying to make sense of the results. But you were struggling to concentrate with the way your heart was pounding.

He was just sitting there, at his workstation, effortlessly spinning a pipette between his long, elegant fingers. Nothing for your dramatic heart to pound like that.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Huh?” you blinked, attempting to act like you hadn’t just been imagining how those fingers would feel on your - never mind.

“I said,” Hyunjin grinned, “you’re incubating that reaction too long.”

“Oh, um, I knew that” you fumbled with the timer, cheeks heating up. “Totally knew that. Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said, eyes sparkling like he enjoyed watching you unravel.

God, why was he like this?

That face? Those lips? And that brain? This was unfair. He had to have some flaw - how can a man be this perfect?

“Are you staying late tonight?” he asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

“I have to,” you mumbled. “This experiment is dragging on, and I have to submit the report by the end of the week.”

Hyunjin hummed, and said, “Oh good, I'll have some company then.”

You could literally see him doodling flowers into his book - he had nothing to do here. But yet every time you had to stay in late, he'd be hanging around too. Just the two of you.

Your brain immediately betrayed you, fueling your wild fantasy where he wasn’t staying late for work but because he secretly wanted to spend time alone with you. You were fighting so hard to maintain a shred of professionalism, but it was so hard when he was looking at you like that.

Hyunjin hummed softly under his breath as he continued to doodle, the sound sending tingles down your spine. Of course he was a good singer too. You just didn't understand what the universe even wanted from you anymore.

---

“I swear to God, Ji, if he twirls that pipette one more time, I’m going to launch myself across the lab bench, and just -” You were sprawled on the sofa in Jisung's apartment, sighing dramatically.

Jisung was your work bestie, working in the lab next door to yours. And he was the only one in the world who knew about your extreme devotion to Hyunjin.

Jisung burst out laughing, as he said, “This is bad, babe,”

“Bad? Jisung, I seriously can't even think when he's around.” you said. “Oh my God!!”

“Have you considered just telling him you like him?” Jisung smirked.

“Right, and ruin the perfectly good thing we have going where I pine silently while he ruins me with his brilliance? No, thank you.”

“You’re hopeless.”

---

The next late-night session happened way too soon, where Hyunjin wandered over to your bench, peering at your data from over your shoulder. He leaned in close, the scent of cologne (or whatever pheromones that he's sending your way) invading your senses - it's simply intoxicating.

“Want me to take a look at that?” he asked, “You've been spending way too much time on it.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, trying not to stutter. “It’s just...a lot of noise in the data.”

“Let me see,” he said, pulling a stool next to you. He reached for the keyboard, and your heart fluttered as his fingers brushed yours.

You wanted to cry. Please don't be so sweet and sexy at the same time, you begged internally. You cursed your body for betraying you with every glance while he explained what he was doing. You could feel the tension in your shoulders as you tried to focus on what he was saying.

Get a grip, Y/N, you reminded yourself. This is professional. Stop fantasizing about this ridiculously hot man who’s inexplicably obsessed with helping you.

When he finally looked up, you realized you’d been staring at him the whole time.

“What?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing... thanks. You’re really good at this,” you stammered.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“You’re good at this too, Y/N. We all have our bad days. Don’t sell yourself short.” he said, patting your shoulder gently before standing up.

You felt your heart squeeze at the sincerity in his tone, and you watched as he went back to his own seat.

Stop it. He’s being nice. Don’t read into it. Just focus on the work.

But it was so hard not to read into it. The way he leaned closer when he spoke, the way his fingersa brushed against yours when he passed you something, and the way he was always so soft with you.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“Y/N, I’m begging you. BEGGING. Tell him. I'm sure he's dying to hear it.” Jisung said, smiling at the girl who handed over our coffees at the cafe.

“You don’t get it! I can't risk it, if he's just being nice, then -”

“Babe,” Jisung drawled, “what world do you live in?!”

“Don’t give me hope, Ji.” you sighed as you walked towards your lab, the early morning breeze cool against your skin.

“Hope? The man stays late every time you do, flirts with you nonstop, and compliments you after he does your work for you. At this point, I’m falling for him,” Jisung said, throwing his hands up. “Seriously, babe, if you don’t jump him soon, I might.”

---

The cold room was your least favorite part of the lab. You hated everything about it - the freezing temperature, its claustrophobic size and the damn protein extraction procedure that drained the life out of you.

But here you were, miserably clutching your samples and praying for the nightmare to end soon.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin’s voice echoed through the door as it opened, and you turned to see him stepping in.

Great. Now you were cold and flustered.

“How's the extraction going?” he asked, his tone light as he slipped on his gloves.

“Going wonderfully,” you muttered, shivering despite your layers.

He grinned, coming closer and watching you work.

“Do you want me to take over?” He asked, making you sigh.

“And miss out on the joy of freezing to death? Never,” you joked weakly, and Hyunjin laughed. “You're too nice, Hyunjin. But I've got this.”

“Nice?” he repeated, leaning back slightly but still watching you intently. “You sure about that?”

You froze, suddenly way too aware of how close he was standing. Was he teasing you? Was this flirting?

“I- I mean, yeah,” you stammered, breaking eye contact. “You’re always helping me...”

“Maybe I have my reasons.” Hyunjin tilted his head, his smile softening.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you asked, “Reasons?”

Before he could answer, the door swung open.

“How's your favorite experiment going?” Jisung's loud voice floated in. “Oh, hi Hyunjin!”

You didn't know if you wanted to strangle Jisung for ruining the moment or hug him for saving you from it.

Hyunjin, ever the sweetheart, just laughed and said, “Hi Jisung, I think she's doing just fine,”

“Of course she is,” Jisung said, moving aside for Hyunjin to step out.

“What was that?” He asked as soon as Hyunjin left.

“What are you doing here?!” you hissed. “We were getting somewhere, but also, if you hadn't come I would've fainted. Like I feel so dizzy, my gloves are all wet from sweating-”

“Y/N,” Jisung said, gripping your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “You like him. He obviously likes you. The universe is literally freezing you together in this cold room to force you to act. Next time, please -”

It was barely 5 am, and you groaned as you shuffled into the lab, your hair in a messy bun and sleep still stinging your eyes. But the bacterial cultures didn’t care about your sleep schedule - or lack thereof.

Throwing on your lab coat and gloves with the grace of a zombie, you started checking the growth plates with bleary eyes.

You’d barely managed to finish when Jisung strolled in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, setting a cup in front of you.

“I love you, Ji,” you muttered, taking the first sip and feeling a spark of life return to your body. “I don't know why I wanted to be a scientist.”

Jisung plopped down next to you, snickering, and started scrolling through his phone while you leaned your head against his shoulder. And he rested his head against yours, before placing a quick peck on your temple.

You were starting to fall asleep, when the lab door creaked open.

You both glanced up to see Hyunjin walk in. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he stopped at the door for a second, his eyes fixed on you.

“Morning,” he greeted, and you gave him a small wave, still too sleepy to form words. Jisung returned the greeting, and then left quickly.

You noticed Hyunjin’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. That's new. He moved to his workstation, setting down his bag and pulling out his laptop.

You sat up straighter, something about Hyunjin’s silence gnawing at you. He didn’t even glance your way, which was unusual.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, was battling a whirlwind of emotions. He knew you and Jisung were close friends - you’d mentioned it so many times. But seeing the way your head rested against his shoulder and Jisung had kissed your temple - it just looked way too intimate. Too cosy.

He hated feeling this way, especially when you weren’t his to begin with. Still, the disappointment twisted in his chest and he didn't know what to do about it. So he focused on his work.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to you.

---

You let it go on till about noon. But it was killing you - you weren't used to this kind of behavior from Hyunjin and it was starting to stress you out. So summoning your courage, you walked over to Hyunjin and said, “Hey,”

He glanced up, his expression neutral as he said, “Hey.”

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. “You're so...quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” Hyunjin said, giving you a small smile.

“You sure?” you pressed, feeling a strange pang of hurt.

He nodded, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was being so distant, and it left a strange, hollow ache in your chest. Finally, you gave him a small nod and walked back to your seat, feeling totally crushed by his uncharacteristic coolness.

Hyunjin’s silence stretched into the next day. And the day after that. In fact he hadn't spoken more than a couple of words to you in the past two days. And it hurt so much, considering the fact that you don't even know why he was doing this all of a sudden.

You tried to brush it off at first. Maybe he was just busy, or stressed. But the space he was putting between you felt deliberate, like he was doing this on purpose.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was crumbling inside. He adored you. And that too for long enough that the thought of losing you was nearly unbearable.

You and Jisung were so close. And you looked so comfortable. He couldn't take it. He wasn't going to let his heart shatter like that.

So, he’d made a decision: if he couldn’t have you, he’d rather step back than risk the heartbreak of watching you fall for someone else. Even if it meant burying his feelings.

---

The next morning, you were back in the cold room. You’d been trying to salvage your protein extraction for hours, but nothing was going right. Your hands were trembling as you loaded yet another sample, and your vision blurred with tears of frustration.

“This is so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice cracking. “Why can’t anything just go right for once?”

You sniffled, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, as you continued your monologue.

“I just want my Jinnie back. Why does he hate me now? What did I do wrong?” your voice wavered as you spoke through your tears.

What you didn't see was that the cold room door had opened quietly, and Hyunjin had stepped inside. He froze at the sound of your voice, his chest tightening at the sadness in your words.

Your Jinnie?

Your name slipped from his lips, soft and hesitant, “Y/N?”

You stiffened, your body freezing and your heart racing as you heard his voice.

“What?” you croaked, refusing to turn around, too mortified to meet his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Hyunjin asked, taking a step closer.

You shook your head, refusing to face him.

“Why do you care?” You asked, and it broke his heart to see you wipe your tears.

“Please don't say that, of course I care-”

“It’s nothing. Just this stupid experiment. And... everything else.”

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice firmer now. “Please. Talk to me.”

You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

“I can’t do this anymore, Hyunjin,” you whispered. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You won't even talk to me, and it’s killing me. I just... I just want my Hyunjinnie back. Just stop hurting me like this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt the tears spill over again, your shoulders trembling as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

And then you felt it.

Warmth. His strong arms wrapping around you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

You gasped softly, frozen for a moment before leaning into him, your tears falling freely now.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Why are you mad at me?” you asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, his hold on you tightening. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought... I thought you and Jisung -”

“Jisung?” you repeated, blinking in confusion. “You know he’s my best friend, Hyunjin. He's like a brother to me.”

“I thought I was protecting myself,” he admitted, his lips close to your ear. “I thought I’d lose you to Jisung, and I couldn’t handle it. But I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process.”

“I can't believe you never saw me thirsting over you, Hyunjin” you said, your voice incredulous. “What are you even saying?!”

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, burying his face into your neck. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” you sniffled, though your tone was softer now.

He pulled back just enough to turn you around, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for so long. And I was so scared- ” he stopped short as he saw the look on your face.

“You... you love me?”

“I adore you,” he said, giving you a shy smile.

You let out a breathless laugh, the weight on your chest lifting for the first time in days.

“I love you too, Hyunjin. So damn much.”

His smile widened, and before you could say another word, he asked, “Can I... can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and when his lips met yours, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He kissed you so softly (even though you just wanted to eat him up.)

You both stepped out of the cold room together, the door clicking shut behind you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen from the kiss, and as you glanced at Hyunjin, you saw he was in no better shape.

You didn't get to take another step forward as the door to your lab opened and Jisung's head popped in.

His eyes flicked between you and Hyunjin and you could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what he was seeing. And then he smirked.

You glared at him, because you know that look on his face, and Hyunjin just stood there, his arms crossed and a smile that said “I got what I wanted".

“Congratulations,” Jisung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so happy for you both. But oh my god, you two idiots…”

The grin on his face was priceless. He was enjoying this way too much.

“I swear, if you don’t shut up -” You swatted him on the arm.

Jisung winced dramatically but couldn’t hide his laughter.

“What? You guys make an adorable couple... but honestly, you both are just so dumb.”

Well, you couldn't agree more.

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght

[arcaneconfessions]

I feel like everyone bitching about shipping and shipping discourse need to understand that Timebomb, Caitvi, and Jayvik, are all ships that predates Arcane as a show by years.

And the people who ship them might not even be shipping the versions of the character's that are in Arcane.

Caitvi has been a ship essentially since they debuted in LoL, Timebomb at least since Ekko got the game lines that outright state that he had a crush on Jinx before she went full mad bomber, and Jayvik at least since it was revealed in their lore to have been academic rivals turned partners turned bitter enemies.

None of the ships that started in Arcane are going to be as popular or have as much fanart/fic about them.

Like the oldest Caitvi fic I can find on AO3 is from 2014, and it's not even tagged Caitvi it's only tagged as their pre-arcane shipname of Piltover's Finest.

Oldest Jayvik fic I can see is from 2015, oldest Timebomb fic is 2016.

This doesn't even get into the fics that inevitably got deleted over the years, or were lost in the ff.net purge, or are just on fic sites I don't use like Wattpad.

Like I keep seeing people (who I can only assume are fans of just Arcane) who are acting confused by people shipping these ships because they feel the ship wasn't presented well, or convincing to them personally in Arcane.

As if all three of these ships don't predates Arcane by years, and Caitvi in particular is at least a decade old, and the other two aren't far behind.

I feel like a number of people who were either introduced to these characters via Arcane or have only ever interacted with the Arcane part of the expanded canon, are failing to understand that a number of people who ship Jayvik, Caitvi, and Timebomb were shipping those ships before Arcane was even announced.

Or that might not even be shipping the versions of the character's that are in Arcane, but in one of the many skin line AUs.

I mean my favorite iteration of Caitvi are the <3 skin AU, where they're a pair of highschoolers who are starcrossed due to being in different cliques, with Caitlyn being a preppy good girl, while Vi is a trouble making skater girl.

Because it's a cute au where neither are cops. I mean look at these two:

https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/leagueoflegends/images/2/24/Vi_HeartacheSkin.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20230208202510

It's great.

And maybe it's lame of me to pick the AU with the lowest stakes, but acab, and this is like one of three skin line AUs where they aren't cops, and also they canonically write love letters to each other and go on secret picnics in this AU.

While I honestly don't think Arcane Vi is in any kind of headspace to try to be starting a romantic relationship for basically the entire show. And Caitlyn isn't really either in season 2.

But that's one of the good things about Riot.

They've made a number of AUs where these two characters aren't the the mentally unstable and grieving women they are in Arcane. Where they can be in a healthy and happy relationship with no relationship based strife.

Arcane fans need to expand their horizons, and stop assuming the worst about each other based on who they ship is basically what I'm saying.

Also people complaining about the multiverse being brought into Arcane in season 2, should come to terms with the fact that the idea of multiverse and alternate timelines have also explored in LoL expanded canon before Arcane.

That's basically the logic that the skin line AUs exist under.

.

[open-sketchbook]

okay total aside, but a lot of leftists get really, really mad at me when i say that a fundamental part of any communist movement must be the elimination of the division of labour. they mock me with "what, do you want us all taking turns being doctors?"

no, you fucking morons. i want us to live in a society where medical knowledge isn't treated as secret unknowable lore that gatekeeps access to the care and resources we need to survive.

the reason we have so much bullshit medical psudeoscience is our society has a vested interest in making medical knowledge seem like impossible magic that only our greatest super-geniuses can hope to understand, but as both a trans person and a person who has helped a loved one with a chronic illness, getting care in these situations more often than not involved sitting down in front of a disinterested doctor and realizing with slow horror that we know more about our condition than they do, yet they decide what is best for us.

and if they notice you notice they're out of their depths, there's a good chance they will withhold care you need to punish you

the solution is the demystification and democratization of knowledge. yes, we have dedicated medical experts, because having specialists is important in realms of complex knowledge, but the death of the division of labour means the death of the idea that a field of human labour is the exclusive property of a caste of specialists.

it means exactly this; invite the community to be involved! teach those who are curious openly and eagerly so they don't go looking for answers from grifters! get everyone involved! treat medicine as a journey a community takes together, not a missive from on high. and that goes for everything. treat science this way, treat education this way, treat life and all the work we do to sustain it as a beautiful shared journey instead of capitalism's pay-as-you-go haunted house

Thread from Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez on her experience in a hospital in Cuba

[narcjsistx]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 | OS

shidou ryusei x fem reader ; words: 1.0k (1086)

coming from this event, fourth day, 21/12

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: during the christmas period it was normal for the association to invite the players, and their girlfriends, to organized dinners. shidou loves to show up at these dinners with you, where everyone asks you how you can be together even though you are so different

Shidou Ryusei is a beast, both on and off the field: the boy's sparkling soul is recognized by everyone in the industry, and his own fanbase boasts of having as an idol someone who is extremely unpredictable, but who always manages to shine. The beast has someone who loves him and with whom he is extremely in love, and that person is you. If he is a beast, you are an angel

If he runs, you walk. If you talk, he screams. If he shoots deadly kicks into the opponent's net, you move with unthinkable delicacy. If he has to be the beast, you are his guardian angel

The diversity between you is probably the thing that makes your relationship work, which experiences a new chemical reaction every day. When the world came to discover you, it was shocked to see someone so different next to the zesty demon, and many had bet that you would not last long, if not a few months. Evidently they were all wrong, because by now you had been together for a few years. The secret dates at the beginning of the relationship had turned into official dinners that it was the industry itself that invited you to. The association loved to invite its players, and consequently their girlfriends, to extremely endless dinners, with many special dishes and nonstop alcohol until the next morning

Christmas dinner was one of those occasions. The white suit and black tie highlighted Shidou's figure, who was forced by you to wear something more elegant than usual. Your long red dress had been chosen a few hours earlier by your boyfriend, who had the honor of being able to choose from the proposals you had proposed to him. Having got out of the car, at least an hour late, the photographers had been waiting for the scandalous couple all evening

It had become a habit to have all eyes on you, and god, you loved it now: seeing people's fascinated looks had become a priceless prize. At first, when it happened, you prayed for it to end as soon as possible, but Shidou had quickly pointed out to you that they were beautiful looks, and not bad ones: as a couple you caused a scandal, but in a good way. The glances increased your love

"Shidou, Shidou, here!"

"Y/n, a closeup for the local press"

"Look here, both of you!"

You were objectively loved, you were iconic, everything about you and your diversity was iconic. The only envious glances are from the other girlfriends of the players on the team, who have never had the same success as you. Aside from the always iconic entrance, the dinners are actually quite boring and monotonous: there is always the same group of players who are really friends, those who join but don't understand much and those who would gladly go to their house and sink into their partners' bodies. Shidou always created a category of his own, even if sometimes he was part of the last one. A few years ago he was the one who almost got arrested because he was about to beat up a butler who had been a bit too cocky touching you; in the last one he had made everyone drunk because of a game played by all the dinner guests, including the managers. And you, always at his side, tried to mediate the behavior of your beloved cockroach

"I wonder how she survives"

"They probably don't really have that much harmony, they just work"

Often, beyond the thousand compliments, you also heard these words. They were words that actually slipped by you, that occupied your mind for no more than two minutes. They were simply things that you considered false, because hell, you couldn't tell everything that happens between you. It would be too long a story and you would even have to invent terms that are still unknown, because everything that has to do with your boyfriend is yet to be discovered

The others don't know how much Ryusei is a lovesick person, and that he isn't afraid to show it. The others don't know how obsessed he is with your love, how dependent he is on it. The others don't know that for him, you seem to be his first in everything, even though he has an experience behind him that could be talked about for a whole week without getting bored. Others don't know how much he really cares about you, in a way that in the early days of the relationship seemed like who knows how many treatments before ghosting, but that is now normal and that you deeply appreciate with all your heart

Others don't know how much the situation changes when you are within the walls of your home, how he becomes the angel and you the beast of the situation: how you affectionately attack him every time he comes home or when he too has bad moments, since even though he is a demon, he remains a human, someone in reality much deeper than others might think

Others can seriously think what they want, you're fine as long as you know the truth. This is yet another trait that Ryusei has changed in you, he who has always been indifferent has taught you that you should care little about other opinions, the superfluous ones, because they are often made only out of malice. This was yet another difference, before the change

Maybe you're not really that different, or rather, you're convinced that you're not as different as everyone thinks: you balance yourselves in a way that you believe only the two of you can do for each other, alternating between heaven and hell

"Fuck everyone, as long as I have the chance to be with you I don't care about the differences. Love me as you think is best, I'll adapt to your way. We do what we think is best for each other, outside opinion is just a way to make us famous, right? If they hated us they wouldn't talk about us so much, but they obviously love us for being so interested"

There is no angel without black wings; there is no beast without a heart. There is no Y/n without Shidou Ryusei; there is no Shidou Ryusei without Y/n. As long as you had the chance to be close, to love each other, to kiss each other, you would never have cared about the differences that actually tied you together

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix

[loganhowlettshousewife]

hi, i absolutely love your animal series and can not wait to read all of your diversity december fics but especially the one about an autistic reader! if it's something you'd like to write and/or something that you have the time to fit in would you consider writing a logan x autistic!reader who is having one of those days where their taste buds are all out of whack and he is trying so hard to find something that you can eat because he refuses to let you go to bed without food. maybe a bit of trial and error in their too, like he makes you something but you just can't eat it and expect him to get mad but he's so nice and gentle about it. thanks and don't worry if not 💛

logan howlett x autistic!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

you may have a meltdown if this day gets any worse. all you want is to go to bed, to shut your eyes to the too-bright lights and fall into a slumber where you don’t have to deal with the buzzing under your skin. tomorrow you’ll wake up feeling marginally better, and you’ll move on as you always do.

but logan’s protective, obsessive about taking care of you, and refuses to let you go to bed without eating. usually it’s nice to have someone like him around, helpful when you’re often forgetting to take care of yourself in such ways, and it’s likely that tomorrow you’ll be grateful to him for feeding you, but right now you’re just tired and overstimulated.

nothing tastes right, your taste buds are all out of whack, and no matter what he makes you, you’re pretty sure it will only make you feel worse. even some of your safe foods aren’t sounding very safe food-y at the moment.

he’s wrapped a weighted blanket around you, turned the lights off in your shared room so that the only illumination comes from the open window, the golden glow of the setting sun. you focus on your breathing, in and out, the texture and weight of the blanket, the rocking motion of your body, back and forth.

there’s a quiet knock on your door, logan letting you know he’s returned, making sure he doesn’t catch you off guard when you’re in this state. he enters with a plate of food, one of your safe foods, and yet when you have the plate in your hands, when you have a forkful of food in your mouth, all you can feel is nausea crawling up your esophagus.

“i can’t,” you choke out, pushing it back into his hands, swallowing against the lump in your throat and pressure in your chest, “just let me sleep. i’ll be better tomorrow.”

he stands by your bedside but doesn’t come any closer, allowing you full control of the situation, letting you decide what kind of proximity you can handle right now. his eyes are so gentle, so understanding, and the kindness he affords you only makes you feel worse.

you wish he would shout at you, call you impossible the way your parents did, throw his hands in the air and tell you to deal with it yourself if you’re going to be difficult. his reactions are an unknown in a world that you thought you finally understood, and it scares you sometimes, how easily he breaks through your walls with his helpful nature and quiet admittances of somewhat understanding the way you’re feeling.

“you can’t go to bed without food,” he says, as if he doesn’t do it all the time. but he wants you to be healthy, never wants you to imitate his bad habits.

tears prick at your eyes, frustration rising in your chest, anger at yourself and at him and at the world and at your brain for being the way it is. he catches your hands before you can bury them into the skin of your arms, nails digging into the flesh, the only way you’re able to let out the volatile energy coursing through you.

“i’ll eat this, you don’t have to,” he continues, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, “just tell me something you think you can eat. anything. it doesn’t have to be big or a full meal. and i’ll go make it for you.”

he’s too gentle with you, too kind, too understanding. it’s something you never thought you’d find in a relationship, not when you’ve been told your entire life that it’s too difficult to deal with your issues. but if logan’s willing to put in the effort, you tell yourself that you’ll try too, push yourself to be the person he thinks you can be.

so you let your head fall into his chest. he doesn’t touch you, doesn’t push your boundaries any further, just lets you rest there while you think, while you cycle through all your safe foods to find the least offensive of them. and when you whisper it against the soft, worn material of his shirt, he smiles down at you and says, “okay.”

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

autistic!reader: @thegothempress @z0m3r-blud @yourlocalmerchgirl

[meanbossart]

Each patreon preview makes me jealous of those who see all this beauty cause the site isn't blocked for them. I guess I'm not alone with this problem.I wish we had a chance to see these arts at least censored while the fulls remain for subscribers. It would make the part of your followers insanely happy. I understand that this platform is more convenient for you now and I do not insist, just expressing sadness. Anyway, I love your blog and check it every other day, thank you for your work and take care!

Hello! I don't know where you're from but I do understand that Patreon is blocked in a few countries. I'd be open to hearing about alternatives for those specific cases assuming it remains fair for everywhere (I don't want the price to have to change across platforms) Unfortunately my options as a non-american/non-european citizen are also a bit limited, mind you :( so I appreciate your understanding.

[magicalgirloffduty]

how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

I want to be hardworking, and although I feel that on the inside I don't feel it shows outwardly, which is something I'm working on...but I think that comes with patience with myself.

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

I show up for others when I can, at my best I do it emotionally, but at my worst it is physically. I think others show up for me in the same capacity because I hate to ask others for what I cannot return, so in a sense...they show up best in the ways I don't ask?? Haha.

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

Love in my life feels like being known and heard. It's the little things. Gifts from conversations just on the edge of recent memory... and understanding even when there is no agreement. Respect... that is a given and not just coming from comparison.

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

My time goes to my writing and my art where I love, whether in my notebook or my laptop. I like it less on my phone, but at emotional lows you can find me there. I wish it would go more to my sense of adventure outside, during the winter I lose that a lot lol!

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

Sometimes? My past self. Who I am during the spring, where I roam around town and take myself on little adventures and dates. Who I am when I'm happy and my mind is a reinforcement of my childhood whimsy and the strength I called upon to defend me. Often, it's my friends who are intelligent, well-spoken people who are well-educated and incredibly kind. Keen to others. I wish I had a better discerning eye, a better sense for lies or malicious intent.

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or am I just coasting?

I think, I am twenty-five percent there and that is the closest I can be for now...so I'm happy with it. If I'm in the same place next year, then I would be sad.

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

Money, power and respect! Along with the emotional intelligence (and the morals to use it wisely.).

I think that I'm working toward it well enough, to earn a place in that space. I hope that by following my own morals and being true to what I believe earns respect. I hope that my education will give me the power to earn money to sustain myself and support myself, so that when I use my power I can do it without risking the people I love or betraying myself.

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

My iPad and my keyboard because I'd rather die than not have the chance to write or sketch. My notebook because putting pen to paper is s much better than the Apple Pencil (although typing is faster and easier for my poor hands.). Bandaids for my clumsy ass. Lotion because I'm black <3. A book usually for art studying, japanese... or writing inspo.

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

I start by taking a big gulp of cold water until I feel like a person again, and then follow it up with a BIG stretch. I don't check my phone and get sucked into texting for an unholy amount of time... and hopefully then I slip out of bed to sit in front of my desk and check my tasks for the day preparing to get some work done with hopefully a plan to eat something light for breakfast....even if eating kind of sucks sometimes.

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

Wig styling, lol. I can live with it, but sometimes I think of all the better I'd be if I just... did a liiiiiitttle more. Playing with my kitties more, they deserve some fun.

What’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

Go to bed at a nice time don't force myself to stay up for more entertainment. I wish it was easier to fall asleep on time, clear my head and have nothing I felt I missed out on before I was bed locked. Post this, make use of the blog I'm so excited to use but keep saving for 'the right time.'

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

Hello future me,

I care about you, I hope you know that. I know you do somewhere in there. I'm doing my best not to fall back on my Vulcan habits and just answer the prompt, looking to please the judges in my mind <3. I hope you've met your academic goals and have some sort of proof to yourself that you've really changed, because that is what that means to you, isn't it? We get a sense of catharsis from this shift in ourselves, even if I worry about when there is less change... I hope we are still confident. Even if things don't go toward our best case, we know who we are (pretty dang resilient, cycle breakers.).

I hope you've finally got past that part in the fanfic that we're super exciting to write, and we have something new and exciting to look forward too, perhaps even a surprise favorite we didn't expect. Most importantly, I hope we get a break from those zombie dreams, I'm not sure how many more outbreaks we can survive!

Oh my gosh? I hope we've made more friends in our area, we don't have to just take ourselves out on fun little adventures, but we have some people to do karaoke with and study with at cute little cafés and update on our art accounts and make fun videos with. I hope we have more to add to our essay, finally post to our YouTube and make something we can watch and be proud of. Look! We found a place to put those dreams and ideas without telling on our selves to people we've learned...don't always root for us... Most importantly, I hope we feel sane. I hope we feel like we can be that person who gets asked out on dates we don't want to go on, approached by strangers because they want to be our friend. That we can drive! Spider-Man finally falls in love with us once he remembers how in love we are (lol.). We remember to use some semicolons instead of commas; like we did just now. That we have a little space to look back on just how far we've come <3.

I want you to remember that today, you got a gift from your friend that was so personal to you, it couldn't have been meant for anyone else, that they thought of you and valued you...and expected nothing in return genuinely. Like you would- and that made you feel like you wanted to do something in return, no matter how late it was. No stress, no pressure for the first time. In the midst of the fact that right now you're not sure if it'll work out, that some things didn't go to plan, and we still made it this far. That we spent all of our free time preparing for this and looking forward to this until eventually school felt less like a place where we felt shame and more like a place to escape when we wanted to do something for ourselves. Before this? When was the last time we felt proud of ourselves? Genuinely, with no voices in our head downplaying it or minimizing it. I hope you can think of one, and it's so recently it's a clear picture in your mind.

Last thing, I look over at our corkboard right now and it's quite barren. Some stuff taken down... sure, like our schedule that we really should be remaking for us or... that tuition dispute we handled like a boss! Mainly, though, because we're once again waiting to add things to it. I hope we didn't push off the 'right time' we're masters of procrastination delegation. Buy that Polaroid camera, get that makeup job! Pin up those goals, and make those conspiracy theories (WE ARE GETTING THAT MOVIE!). Finish that Fic!! and make the next book! DO everything you want! You can, congrats you made it past 18, and now you're 23, happy to be here. That took time. You did it. I hope you know that! I think you just realized that! Go have fun!!!! Right now, I feel proud. If anything, you'll remember this.

Painfully sincerely, Present me-Past you.

Journaling prompts to reinvent yourself ౨ৎ

how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or a I just coasting?

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

what’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

As always, please feel free to share your own prompts and check out my insta for more of me! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[trainnster]

A Message for our Dearest Friends ✨

[[ Before anything, I do give a TRIGGER WARNING for those who may not want to read about anymore of Nirmal's escapades, and also who may not want to look into discussions of z!on!sm, harrassment of children, and just general nasty ass behavior from Karen Supreme over here. If you do read though, I very much thank you! ]]

So y'know unfortunately I was not added to The List™. Really sad, might just piss and die from it all. HOWEVER, I care about this fandom and I'm always for being petty, so I guess I'll take the bait and send a nice little message to our dearest friend @gordontheengineswifenirmal and her little bestie boo @drackara for trying to fuck with MY friends!! 😁

FIRST OFF, I am not nor will I ever take shit from some bitch who named herself after that fugly ass grey cat from Garfield, so no I am not scared of you and actually I'm SO happy you chose a fandom I happen to be in to try and be a little prick to so I can go into some of the shit you've done!! Like omg thank you SO much for this opportunity, girl! 😊✨

SECOND, you are old enough to be the parent to about 60% of this fandom yet lack the simple maturity basics that even a 5 year old has, so like idk but maybe you should look into going back to school and doing something with your life, since it's obvious you're just rotting in your friend's basement and don't have any sort of diploma or certificate to your name teehee!! 😘

THIRD, going on with how grossly uneducated you are at your crusty dusty ass age, let me remind you that nobody, I mean NOBODY- Actually, here, lemme add the definition so you can get it:

NOBODY [pronoun] / ˈnoʊ.bɑː.di / : not anyone

(SOURCE: Cambridge Dictionary)

Yeah, so that? Yeah, nobody owes you shit over actual families who are going through one of the worst mass humanitarian disasters we've seen in modern history! There's this other thing called "independence", yeah, and THAT means that we ALLL get to choose where our money goes! Isn't that so great? Yeah so that means… People get to choose if they want to monetarily support you!!! 🥳 Isn't that just so lovely?

And y'know, maybe it's just me, but I dunno if people would want to use their independence over their money to send it to a random 42 year old over helping people escape literal genocide. Doesn't sound so great does it? Yeah, maybe it's kinda like people have hearts and understand that genocide is far worse than some random 42 year old who spews z!onist rhetoric, disrespects sex work, and demands monetary gain from literal kids who she not only calls slurs but also actively exposes to NSFW content on her little confessions blog!

Y'know… maybe THAAAT'S why people don't send you money! Yeahhh it's cuz you're a basement-dwelling prehistoric z!onist toad who actively threatens the safety of literal children in online spaces!! I got it figured out!! And y'know, I got you figured all out too, darlin', because I sure as hell know this ain't your first rodeo and this post sure as hell ain't mine!

And y'know I could just keep going on and on, but considering you're probably red in the face and sobbing like the infant-minded subhuman creature you are over lil ol me simply going over just one single little atrocity you've committed on this fandom, I think I'll spare you from holding you to the mirror for ALL that!

Anyways, I do hope this all finds you just SO well, and maybe you can understand just a teensy bit why people y'know… Don't like you! Yeah, so uh hope your holidays go great, hope the new year treats you better than how you've treated ANY of us, and I do hope that poor single braincell gets some friends in the incoming year because he sure is real lonely in that hollow head of your's! Anyways buh-bye hon, hope you have a fantastic day 🥰

[livingformintyoongi]

Echoes of Love | Kim Taehyung

a/n: This is literally the longest thing I've ever written in my life ._. I really tried to do my best, I got the idea after seeing the Winter ahead teaser and I really wanted to write it (even though I thought it was going to take much longer). I wanted to give a special thanks to @thunderg, @kookiewithluv and @angellekookie for helping me with the revision, they are the best moots in the world, I adore them, I really don't think I could have finished it without their opinions :(

Resume: You and Taehyung had a passing relationship four years ago, a relationship that felt like a hurricane; fleeting, sweeping, destructive. You had left a mark on him, one that, even as the years passed, was still present, and, no matter what he did, it seemed unwilling to go away.

Warnings: It has quite a bit of angst, Taehyung at one point acts like an idiot, time shifts between the present and four years earlier, most of the shot is focused on Tae's point of view.

WC: 16.9k

Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @zent9

Dividers: @thecutestgrotto

Taehyung stared fixedly at the sculpture in front of him, from the shape of its eyes to the soft curve of its lips. It was just like you, so much so that he could almost imagine the sparkle in your eyes and the sound of your laugh. He clenched his jaw as flashes of the days he had spent by your side returned to his memory—those times when you stayed up late kissing until your lips ached, or those afternoons when you went for walks on the beach to get some fresh air. It was unfair, it was painful, and perhaps the worst part was that it was his fault.

He set aside his chisel, never taking his eyes off the perfectly polished face of the one he was sure was the love of his life. He wasn’t going to gain anything by recalling the past, by getting stuck in the “what ifs” that had tormented him these past few years, he knew that. But then, why? Why was it so hard to stop thinking about you? About your voice, your touch, the way you loved so selflessly and intensely, simply... you.

"Taehyung, the exhibition is about to start. Are you ready?" Jiwon asked, crossing her arms as she leaned her shoulder against the doorframe. Her navy blue suit and the firm tie of her hair contrasted completely with the casual image she usually projected. He couldn’t help but feel a little relief as he realized his best friend took her work seriously, that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought, as alone as he felt inside.

"I think so..." he murmured, untangling the linen apron with clumsy movements before walking to her side. "What about you? Are you ready?"

"Already ready for more than an hour," she muttered quietly, too distracted by the sculpture behind him to really answer as she should. "It’s her, right? The woman you’ve been crying over for... I don’t know, three years?" She walked closer to the sculpture, studying its features. The delicate way in which Taehyung had captured her essence, as though he had poured his heart and soul into polishing every tiny detail of her. He had probably succeeded because even she, someone who was a zero at anything unrelated to science—and emotions in general—could feel a pressure in her chest looking at your face. "She’s beautiful... I understand why it hurts so much to have lost her." She shoved her hands in her pockets and turned to him.

"It was four years, Jiwon, and no, it’s not just ‘beautiful’, she is—" He protested, clenching his fists at his sides, his gaze fixed on your face—or rather, on the portrait of it. "She’s much more than a pretty face. You never knew her, you never did, so don’t talk about her like that."

Jiwon raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile crossing her face. "Oh, seems like I struck a nerve. Did you remember something interesting?"

Taehyung swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t like talking about you; actually, he hated when others talked about you, at least when they hadn’t had the chance to get to know you the way he had. When he had presented his exhibition with the 38 pieces he had created with you as his muse. Just like him, everyone was captivated by your beauty. It was weeks of the newspapers asking him about you, his new muse, talking about you as though they knew who you were, investigating tirelessly to find you. He hated it. With the bad taste left by Jiwon’s comment, he took a silk veil to cover the sculpture with as much care as possible, convincing himself that, in some way, covering your face would protect you from prying eyes. But he hadn’t counted on the fact that through the silk veil, the silhouette of your face still stared at him, as if reminding him that some wounds couldn’t be hidden by the finest fabric. Perhaps he didn’t miss company so much, at least not Jiwon’s.

"Let’s get out of here, please," he murmured, leaving the studio as quickly as his feet would allow him. The pain in his chest grew more unbearable, the nausea soon followed, and the discomfort was hard to ignore. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure it like this, but it definitely wouldn’t be much longer.

While Taehyung hurried out, Jiwon remained in the doorway, staring fixedly at the statue now covered by the veil. Unlike what Taehyung thought, she had known her—perhaps even longer than she could confess to her friend. She took the door handle, giving the space one last look. She stopped for a few seconds, clearing her mind. The uncertainty and guilt that had haunted her for the past four years were becoming harder to bear. She kept telling herself she was doing this for his sake, or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She clenched her jaw as she closed the door, as if doing so could choke the memories that threatened to suffocate her too, trying to leave that bitter love behind with the hundreds of portraits, photographs, and sculptures Taehyung had refused to display.

"Seriously, you couldn’t look more pathetic," Jiwon murmured, sitting relaxed in one of the beach chairs Taehyung had in the backyard of his house—mansion. The warm sun embraced her semi-naked skin, covered by a black swimsuit that accentuated her figure perfectly. Thick sunglasses rested on the bridge of her nose, protecting her eyes from the scorching summer sun, while her blonde hair fell softly over her shoulders. Jiwon was, in simple terms, a beautiful woman. But her sarcastic, insensitive, and rough attitude drove away almost everyone around her. Taehyung was one of the few exceptions.

"What are you doing in my house?" Taehyung grunted, ruffling his hair as he lay down on the grass, his brown eyes fixed on the crystal-clear water of the pool. The soft itch from the grass against his bare skin made him feel a little better, a little more alive. Why did it affect him so much that Joohyun left him? Well, maybe the fact that they had been together for five years, that she had been his muse since he met her, and that she left him right when he asked her to marry him, explained the intense pain in his chest. "You should, I don’t know... do whatever it is that family business owners do, like ruining one of your employee’s lives or marrying your secretary."

"Nah, that’s boring. Besides, Jungkook isn’t my type," she murmured lazily, the summer sun burning her eyes through her sunglasses. The sensation soon began to relax her, to the point of feeling her eyelids fall involuntarily. "Now, what are you going to do with your work? You have an exhibition in eight months and you’ve barely managed to do anything other than cry over some brainless girl."

Taehyung frowned, turning to look at Jiwon. Her mocking smile and sarcastic tone fit perfectly with her attitude. They had been friends for over ten years, and he still didn’t understand why they remained friends. With the urge to throw a beach chair at her head still bubbling inside, he stood up from the ground and walked toward her, approaching with firm steps.

"Joohyun wasn’t a brainless girl. She was my girlfriend, my muse, and without her..." He paused for a moment, staring at the sky barely covered by clouds. Something in his throat was choking him. "Without her, I’m nothing."

"Oh, please, stop being so pathetic." Jiwon reclined back in her chair, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them somewhere on the floor. Her expression, though slightly furrowed, was filled with disdain, and one of her eyebrows rose inquisitively. "Since when do you feel sorry for a woman? There are hundreds of thousands of women out there who are way more interesting, beautiful, and fun than that bitch."

"Stop calling her that, Jiwon," he said sternly, clenching his teeth to avoid exploding. He didn’t like her talking about Joohyun like that, even though he knew Jiwon had no filter for her opinions. He had always been aware of Jiwon’s coldness when it came to emotional matters, especially love, but that didn’t stop the pain her words caused every time they pierced him. Part of him knew what Jiwon said was true, but another part, the bigger part, refused to accept it. He preferred to live in a world as beautiful as his works than face the harsh reality.

"I’m just telling the truth. She cheated on you more than once, took advantage of your money, and was obsessed with being the star of your works. She practically made you dependent on her!" She moved a little closer, gently tapping his forehead. "Trust me, there are a lot of beautiful girls out there who could be your muse. Just... I don’t know... go look for one."

Taehyung looked at his best friend’s impassive face, the calm in her blue eyes, as cold as ice. She would never understand him. No matter how hard she tried, Jiwon would never feel art and love the way he did. Her view was objective, superficial. And that was exactly what he needed at that moment.

"Ugh, I’d forgotten how loud these events could be," Taehyung muttered, walking with his head down, heading directly to the exhibition hall. The cream-colored hallways adorned with hundreds of high-quality paintings and sculptures made Taehyung feel as if he were at home—or at least that’s how it had been for a long time, before he met you. He still felt a certain warmth in these kinds of places, but something inside him twisted every time he stepped into a museum. It was hard to feel whole when you had lost someone you felt so drawn to.

"It’s because you’re here, stirring up the hormones of the women artists," Jiwon murmured, walking slowly, taking her time to appreciate the art around her. Unlike Taehyung, she had never sympathized with art. She didn’t understand why people admired it so much, nor did she understand how it could generate such strong emotions with just one look. But she knew he liked it, and that was more than enough to spare a few hours of her life to accompany him to exhibitions.

"Of course not, that’s—" His feet came to a sudden stop when he noticed a large painting on the far wall. At first, his mind refused to accept what he was seeing. He blinked, trying to convince himself it was a coincidence, an illusion… But every detail brought him back to that night. And then, the weight of reality fell on him, crushing him. He remembered that moment as if it were yesterday—the cold night breeze on the beach, the smell of salt, the sand against his toes, you… It didn’t take long before he felt the knot forming in his throat, growing until it made it hard to speak and breathe. That white dress with blue reflections, your long, dark hair, the moon, the night,… everyhing came back to him like pieces of a broken mirror, cutting his heart with every little shard he tried to visualize.

It wasn’t just a painting. It was the only time he had captured something more than the beauty of a muse; he had painted the love he felt, without masks or artifices. That painting was a secret, a silent confession he never intended to share.

"Oh, I don’t remember seeing this one among the pieces you submitted," Jiwon said, walking closer to read the title. "Muse?" Taehyung’s heart stopped the moment he heard those words leave Jiwon’s lips. He didn’t want that painting to be displayed; he didn’t want anyone else to see it, for anyone else to feel what he felt that night. He didn’t want to share that moment so intimate, so important to him, to both of you.

Every brushstroke was an unspoken word, an echo of that night he could never relive. How could he share it? How could he allow someone else to interpret it, feel it, judge it? With the little strength he had left, he looked at the figure of the young woman in the painting, and with a trembling hand pressed to his aching chest, he murmured, "Ask them to take it down. Now." His voice cracked as he clenched his fist against his chest, as if trying to contain something that was about to break. "I don’t want… I can’t see it here."

Despite the pain the painting caused him, he seemed incapable of looking away from it, from you. He didn’t understand—how had it ended up here? He was certain he had left it with the rejected pieces. He had spent four years hiding it from the view of any intruder, never showing it to anyone—so how?

While Taehyung wrestled with himself, trying to figure out how the painting had ended up in the exhibition, Jiwon focused on studying him, every little gesture he made. She noticed how his lips pressed into a thin line, how his chest rose and fell irregularly, how his hands trembled slightly at his sides, and, finally, how his eyes seemed to be covered by a sheen of water, on the verge of spilling a bitter tear.

It was only when a single tear traced down his cheek that guilt overwhelmed her. She pressed her lips together, her thoughts clashing against each other. She had thought displaying it would give Taehyung a push, a way to force him to stop running from his own feelings. But now, seeing his reaction, she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to present that painting at the exhibition.

The soft night breeze elegantly tousled Taehyung’s hair, a stark contrast to his bare feet resting on the sand. The cigarette between his lips and the taste of nicotine made a feeble, almost miserable, attempt to ease the pressure on his chest. The memory of Joohyun still lingered in his mind, every time he closed his eyes, every time he picked up a brush. Frustration began to irritate him, and he still had only seven and a half months left to present his exhibition.

“You shouldn’t do that, it’s bad for you,” murmured a soft voice behind him. Silent footsteps beside him made him turn to see who was interrupting his negative thoughts, but even after being able to put a face to the mysterious voice, he couldn’t say anything. Every word, every thought, absolutely everything seemed to vanish the moment their gazes met.

There was a woman next to him, slightly younger than him. She wore a white dress, very similar to the one a bride would wear on her special day. Her dark, long hair rested delicately against her back and hips, and her large, bright eyes perfectly reflected the moonlight. Every feature he focused on made her seem even more ethereal. He had never felt anything so sudden since the first time he took a brush in his hand.

“Are you okay?” the young woman murmured, her brow furrowing slightly as she tilted her head to better observe Taehyung’s face, as if looking for any wounds or signs of pain. There was something about her that made the pain disappear from his chest.

“Who are you?” he managed to say after what felt like an eternity. The cigarette he had between his lips had long since fallen to the ground, forgotten entirely thanks to the almost angelic presence of the girl.

“Me?” she pointed to herself, her eyes reflecting incredulity and confusion, emotions that lasted only an instant, for she almost immediately gifted him one of the purest and gentlest smiles he had ever seen in his life. “My name is Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Y/N…” he murmured softly, taking in every detail of her face. The way her eyes reflected the light of the stars, how the night breeze tousled her hair, how her very presence seemed to calm the pain that had darkened his days for months. For the first time since Joohyun’s rejection, Taehyung felt inspired, as if, after months of drowning in a sea of tears, his lifeline had arrived, the one thing that could pull him from his misery. A new muse. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course! Ask me,” she tilted her head slightly, ready to listen to whatever the stranger had to say. You would lie if you said you weren’t nervous about speaking to him, not only because he was a complete stranger and could very well be a lunatic - although you were sure he wasn’t - but there was something about him, perhaps the way his eyes seemed so lost, or his melancholic aura that drew your attention, urging you to get closer to him, to understand why he seemed so… lost.

“Could you… could you be my model?” Taehyung wasn’t an insecure person and rarely justified what he said or did, but for some reason, he immediately felt the need to justify why he was asking her, a girl he had never seen before in his life, to be his model. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me, I’m not a creep or anything like that,” he hurried to say, feeling a wave of heat flood his face. “I-I’m an artist, I do paintings and sometimes photographs…” he shifted in place, anxiety gnawing at him. He licked his inner lip, taking a breath before continuing. “I have an exhibition in seven months and… the woman I was working with, my model, quit some time ago and seriously, seriously, I need someone to help me and you are…” he stopped again, his heart skipping a beat as he looked at her face again, “you’re beautiful…”

“Oh…” you said softly, feeling your cheeks warm faster than you’d like to admit. For a man as handsome as him - because yes, he was very attractive - to say that about you was… overwhelming. Even though your impulsive side, the more romantic one, screamed yes, your rational side made you reflect a little before accepting. You didn’t know him, you didn’t know his name, you had no way of knowing if it was true, and you didn’t plan on putting yourself in danger unnecessarily. “Do you have any proof that what you’re saying is true?”

“Well…” he put his hands in his pockets. He didn’t want her to see how they had been trembling from the nervousness of whether she would say yes or no. “I can tell you my artist name and, you know, you could look up my work. You don’t have to say yes now, you can take your time to think about it,” he pulled out a piece of paper from the back pocket of his pants, an old supermarket receipt he had forgotten to throw away in the past. He stretched it as much as he could, and once it was more… presentable, he wrote a series of numbers on it along with the name Vante. ‘I hope this doesn’t make me look crazy,’ he thought, ‘but I can’t let this opportunity slip away.’ “Here, this is my number and my artist name. If you like the idea, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Thank you… I’ll look it up when I get back to my hotel,” you murmured, looking at the messy, hurried writing with a smile. His strange way of giving you his contact information might have made you a little fond of him, but you definitely wouldn’t tell him that. It would be a secret kept only for you.

“So… why do you want that painting removed?” Jiwon stood her ground, ignoring Taehyung’s request. Her playful gaze had vanished a few seconds ago, replaced by an unusual seriousness. Her hands rested casually in her pants pockets, and her gaze, now cold and calculating, stayed fixed on her friend. “Why does her memory torment you so much, Taehyung? What happened between you two?”

Taehyung, for his part, remained looking down, incapable of facing the painting, incapable of reliving the moment that would change his life forever—something he had labeled his “point of no return.” He didn’t want to be interrogated, didn’t want to answer questions about her, didn’t feel capable of doing so without breaking down into inconsolable tears.

“It’s been almost four years, Tae,” Jiwon murmured, her voice so soft that, if he didn’t know her, he wouldn’t believe it was the same person. “You won’t achieve anything by keeping all of this inside… I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t open up to me.”

Taehyung sighed, ruffling his hair in a futile attempt to shake off the frustration weighing on him. He knew she was right; he knew he had to be honest, to tell the truth, but the memories were so painful, so unbearable.

“Tae… please.” Jiwon tried to meet his eyes, her pleading gaze fixed on his now-disheveled hair.

There were a few moments of silence, seconds in which they both seemed to be debating how to proceed. On one hand, Taehyung wanted to open up to her, to tell her the truth about what happened between him and her. Jiwon, on the other hand, seemed to be debating internally whether to keep pushing or simply let it go and wait for another moment, wait until he was ready to take that step on his own.

It was just when Jiwon opened her mouth to say she’d go talk to have the painting removed that Taehyung’s voice interrupted her. “It was my fault…” he murmured in a low, trembling voice, barely holding back tears. “She… she left because of me, Jiwon. I ruined it… and I’m not even sure if I’ll ever have another chance to see her again.”

With soft yet determined steps, Jiwon approached Taehyung, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder. She ran her hand through his dark hair, sighing as she felt her shirt grow damp from his tears. She lifted her gaze, noticing the large ostentatious chandelier above them. It was a trivial detail; she’d seen it hundreds of times and never paid attention to it. But now, in this moment, with the uncertainty of not knowing how to console her friend, the crystal design of that pretentious object helped her stay distracted, to maintain the calm she was known for.

“It’s okay… it’ll be okay. Whatever happened, you can’t keep carrying it alone. I’m here, do you understand? No matter how much time has passed, you don’t have to face this on your own,” she murmured softly, feeling Taehyung’s hands grip her like his life depended on it.

“If only I had… If only I’d been different, if I’d been better, maybe she’d still be here. But I hurt her. I made her leave.” The weight of his words seemed to crush him further, his voice trembling as if even the air itself refused to cooperate. He kept his head down, unable to face Jiwon’s eyes, afraid of finding pity or judgment there.

Jiwon had known Taehyung for years, had seen every side of him and accepted them all without question, because it was those very facets that made Taehyung the man he was—her best friend. However, seeing Taehyung break down like this hurt her more than any other negative trait she had witnessed in him. This time felt different; this time it felt like there was nothing she could do to help him, and that unsettled her deeply.

She wanted to find the right words, something that could take away at least a fraction of the pain that seemed to be consuming him. But all she could do was hold him, because sometimes, words weren’t enough; sometimes, all it took was silence and a warm embrace, letting them release their pain on your shoulder and simply being the handkerchief for their tears.

You walked into Taehyung’s studio, taking in the walls covered in artwork, many of them featuring Joohyun. A framed photograph caught your attention: Joohyun in an elegant, confident pose, with an air of near-unattainable perfection. A knot formed in your stomach at the thought that you could never measure up.

“She wasn’t perfect. I just learned how to capture her that way,” Taehyung murmured, almost as if sensing your unease and insecurity about his proposal.

You gave him a nervous smile, telling yourself this couldn’t go too badly... though deep down, you felt like you’d already failed before you even started. “Are you sure this is going to work?” you murmured as you watched Taehyung shuffle his things around in a clumsy and overly rushed manner.

You had contacted him the following day, still uncertain about the idea of being his model. The paintings you’d seen, the photos and sculptures—everything was truly beautiful, just like the woman who had taken on the role of Taehyung’s former model. It made your anxiety grow even more. What if his audience didn’t like his new muse—you? What if you couldn’t measure up? How were you supposed to pose? What expression should you wear?

Taehyung set his canvas in front of you, moving around the room in search of the perfect angle, muttering to himself all the while. “Relax,” he said without looking directly at you, his hands busy adjusting the lights and his materials. “I don’t need a professional. I just need someone who can give me back the inspiration I thought I’d lost. Difficult? Yes. But not for you.”

A soft blush spread across your cheeks, and you quickly lowered your gaze, embarrassed. You had no idea why you had agreed to this, but when you saw the bright spark in Taehyung’s eyes as he asked—begged—you to be his model, his muse, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

Your eyes fell on one of the photographs resting near the easel. Once again, it was Joohyun with her impeccable posture and piercing gaze, seemingly staring at you, judging you from afar. You tried to avoid catching your reflection in the nearby window, but you couldn’t stop the thought: How am I supposed to live up to this?

“But I’m not a model... I’m going to be so stiff,” you said quietly as Taehyung gently guided you to the exact spot where you were supposed to sit. Your heart raced every time you felt his presence close to you, his touch, his gaze. You were so deeply captivated by his passion for art that it was almost impossible not to feel your small, fragile heart overflow with anxiety, fear, and excitement whenever you saw him.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be a model to be someone’s muse,” he chuckled softly, seating you in front of the grand piano in his spacious home. He stepped back to where his canvas and paints were, feeling the inspiration he thought he’d lost rushing back to him in a flood of emotions he didn’t fully understand—and, for the moment, didn’t care to.

All he needed was to complete a total of ten paintings—just ten. The other works would be divided into photographs and sculptures, most of which were already nearly finished. He only had to focus on his craft, on taking advantage of the inspiration that had returned to him thanks to you, and simply… paint.

“So… do I just sit here doing nothing?” you asked curiously, lifting your hands until your delicate fingers hovered over the piano keys. You liked music and, along with it, instruments. You’d taken piano lessons as a child, so you had some skill, and playing might help calm your nerves.

“You can play something if you want…” he murmured, fumbling with his charcoal pencils, desperate to get something onto the canvas, eager to capture your beauty with his own hands. He wanted—no, needed—the world to see you, and not through just anyone’s eyes. He wanted everyone to see you the way he did: as his salvation.

“Oh… okay.” From your spot, you could see him: the concentration on his face, the way his fingers moved clumsily among the pencils and charcoal. There was something hypnotic about his passion, the way his entire world seemed to revolve around a canvas. And for a moment, you wished to be more than just his muse. Shaking your head in an attempt to dismiss the thought, you turned back to the piano, pausing for a few seconds before beginning to play a soft melody that Taehyung recognized as River Flows in You.

The anxiety he had felt, the desperation to create something at that very moment, dissipated. He still wanted to paint the scene before him—there was no doubt about that—but he no longer trembled as he picked up his pencil. His heart didn’t race wildly. It was simply… you, him, and the sound of the piano keys filling the silence between you as Taehyung immortalized the moment.

After a few minutes, Taehyung paused to observe the scene before him: your gentle gaze fixed on the piano keys, your lips slightly pursed in concentration, your hands moving fluidly to the romantic yet melancholic rhythm of the song. It was like a scene from a movie made just for him, reflecting both his pain and his fortune.

“Wait, turn a bit to the left… No, not that much.” His voice was calm, but you could see the tension in his furrowed brow. You tried to follow his instructions, though every small movement felt more awkward than the last. You were starting to get nervous, and it showed. “Like this?”

“Yes… yes, that’s good,” he replied, but his tone was distracted, his gaze fixed on the canvas as if trying to solve a puzzle. You knew something was still bothering him, but you didn’t have the courage to ask again—not when your nerves felt so raw.

For a moment, he lifted his eyes from the canvas and looked at you. His gaze was intense, as if trying to find something he still couldn’t capture on paper. “You’re fine,” he said softly, more to himself than to you, before returning to his work.

His comment threw you off a little, distracting you from your task. A sharp, wrong note echoed in the room, and your cheeks flushed immediately. Were the stars aligned today just to embarrass you?

“That was… unexpected,” Taehyung said with a soft laugh.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t apologize. It makes it more… real,” he said, his lips curving into a smile that managed to soothe your anxiety, if only a little. “I never thought something as simple as a piano could look so…” Taehyung trailed off, his voice fading into the sound of his pencil against the paper.

“So what?” you whispered. For some reason, your heart raced with anticipation for whatever he was about to say.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied quickly, but his cheeks held a faint blush. He set his pencil aside and leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between the canvas and you. You could feel his scrutiny, but this time, it didn’t make you feel insecure. There was something different in his eyes, something you couldn’t decipher.

Taehyung didn’t realize it, but in that moment, his eyes met yours. It lasted only seconds but felt like an eternity. Something in his expression made your chest tighten: was it admiration? Gratitude?

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper that hung in the air between you. His gaze remained locked on yours, dark and deep, as if searching for something he didn’t even know he’d lost.

In that moment, the world seemed to stop—there was no piano, no paintings, just the weight of his gaze anchoring you to the ground.

His hand, stained with charcoal, rested gently on yours with a softness that surprised you. It was a strange contrast: his fingers strong but trembling slightly, as if holding himself back from gripping you tighter. Something in your chest twisted—a mix of fear and hope—and for one brief, eternal moment, it felt as if the walls between you both had crumbled.

But the moment broke as quickly as it had come. Taehyung withdrew his hand, his expression closing off again as he stepped away. He gathered his materials with studied calm, as if nothing had happened. But you knew it had meant everything; you wanted it to mean everything.

Even as Taehyung distanced himself, you remained at the piano, letting the melody flow naturally from your fingers. But your mind? Your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t stop wondering why such a simple gesture affected you so deeply, why your heart raced every time he looked at you. Your reflection in the piano’s glossy surface stared back at you, confused and almost lost. To him, this was just work. But to you… what was all of this to you? What were you feeling? The answer scared you, but at the same time, it filled you with something new, something you couldn’t define.

"Are you feeling better?" Jiwon murmured, holding a bottle of water up to his face. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel sorry for seeing him in such a sorry state, with wet cheeks, a red nose, and dry lips. It was probably the worst she’d ever seen him, even worse than when Joohyun had left him. But she had no idea what to do or say to cheer him up. Knowing herself, she’d probably make things worse if she opened her mouth.

"Yeah..." he replied quietly, his brown eyes fixed on an empty spot on the floor. He seemed lost, absorbed in his own world, trapped in memories that caused him so much pain and heaviness it felt like he couldn’t bear them much longer. That, Jiwon thought, had been Taehyung's greatest muse: his pain.

"I’m sorry you have to go through all of this, I... I didn’t want to cause you more trouble. I know you hate listening to people complain and all that, but... I don’t have anyone else..."

"Shut up, you’re just making things worse," he murmured with sarcasm, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere a little. Contrary to what Taehyung thought, Jiwon actually cared about how he felt, she cared about listening to him, being there for him. "Now, why don’t you start from the beginning? How did you meet her?"

Taehyung stayed silent for a few seconds, one of his hands running through his hair, which had lost its once elegant form a long time ago. He licked his lips, feeling them dry. When he looked up, Jiwon’s eyes were already fixed on him, observing him with an intensity that revealed just how vulnerable he felt.

"I... I met her five years ago... there were almost seven months left until the next exhibition and I was struggling to create new art... and then she..."

"Did you make her your muse?" Jiwon tilted her head, sitting down next to him on the step. Her friend’s nervous behavior was starting to unsettle her. Even she didn’t know why. She knew him like the back of her hand, she knew he would never harm a girl, at least not consciously. So why was it so hard for him to speak?

"Yeah..." he murmured, covering his face with both hands. He closed his eyes, letting the memories of his time with Soomin flood back: her laughter, her eyes, her lips, her skin against his. Each memory grew more vivid, like a cold stream of water. He could hear the melody she played on the piano the first time they worked together, or remember the first time he saw her smile... Everything overwhelmed his mind like a cascade of moments he couldn’t stop. "She... she was like a breath of fresh air. I’d never met anyone so beautiful... and I’m not just talking about her looks, although she was that too. I’m talking about... her." He sighed, looking at Jiwon, whose eyes reflected the desolation he was feeling. "Her essence, her soul... whatever you want to call it. That’s what made her beautiful, Jiwon, and I don’t think I’ll find that in anyone else... I don’t want to."

Jiwon hugged her knees, still looking at her friend. She thought she understood what he was saying, at least to some extent. She had seen it reflected in his works, the way he portrayed her. It couldn’t be a coincidence that in each one, Soomin appeared as an ephemeral, ethereal being.

"So, then? Why did you let her go?" she murmured, studying his profile intently. She knew Taehyung was rambling, avoiding the topic. If she didn’t press him, he wouldn’t face it, and the last thing he needed right now was to keep avoiding reality.

Jiwon watched Taehyung for a long moment, feeling how the air between them thickened. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of his sadness was crushing him. She decided not to interrupt him, though his words hung heavily in the air. The silence between them became thick, but Jiwon didn’t want to rush her friend. She knew that only when he was ready, the words would come. But when Taehyung finally looked at her, his dark eyes were empty, filled with a sadness that Jiwon couldn’t fully understand, but she felt it as if it were her own.

‘It was her who left me, Jiwon...’

"I told you I can't dance, Taehyung," you said with a trembling voice, watching as your feet wobbled unsteadily while trying to follow Taehyung's steps.

The soft jazz music filled the room, and the evening light covered them in a warm blanket that made the scene feel like something straight out of a 1950s-inspired movie, where a couple of lovers let themselves be swept away by the music, enjoying each other's presence.

The only difference was that they weren’t a couple of lovers. At least, not both of them.

You simply let yourself be carried away by Taehyung. His slow and relaxed swaying set the rhythm while you felt his soft heartbeat against your ear. Yours, in contrast, sped up, making it hard to breathe. Your steps stumbled between the softness of the music and the weight of what you didn’t dare confess, as if you were dancing on a cloud about to disappear. Every second with Taehyung felt like that to you—it felt magically unstable, a shaky ground that made you feel too good to let go.

Taehyung, on his part, felt calm, at peace, inspired. He enjoyed your presence and how easily you could make him reason, forget his pain, and move on. Feeling your hands, much smaller than his, against his shoulders made him feel grounded, and your nervous gaze and shy stutter caused a warmth in his chest that he had never felt with any girl before. Taehyung wasn’t someone who liked comparing people, but it was impossible for him not to compare the emotions he felt when he was with you and how these made him feel much more secure than he had ever felt with Joohyun. He couldn’t stop wondering what that meant, what he was supposed to do with all the emotions he was feeling. Everything felt so familiar and new at the same time, as if his heart recognized something his mind still couldn’t understand. And that disconnect scared him more than he wanted to admit.

They were each other’s refuge, their pillar. Taehyung felt free when you were by his side, and you felt protected when Taehyung was by your side. You were sure of what you wanted from Taehyung, but him? He still couldn’t fully decipher his emotions for you. How could he think about what he wanted if he didn’t even know what he felt?

"Let go," he whispered next to your ear, his fingers lightly brushing the silk fabric covering your waist. The combination of his warmth and the coolness of the fabric gave him a strange comfort, one he didn’t fully understand but didn’t want to let go of.

"It’s hard... to let go in situations like this, Tae," your fingers pressed slightly against Taehyung’s shirt in an attempt to ignore the shiver you felt down your spine when his words left his lips. For a moment, you could feel the warmth of his mouth against the bare skin of your shoulder, and it was a sensation you didn’t want to forget.

"Then let me guide you," he pulled back slightly, enough to gaze into your eyes. The eye contact between the two of you made everything feel unstable and blurry, and for the first time, you didn’t feel afraid to let yourself feel, because how could you not, when he looked at you with those warm eyes and that kind smile on his lips?

The tension between you two seemed to grow with each passing second, until you felt a tingling at the tips of your fingers and a flutter in your lower belly. The soft saxophone melody had long since faded into the background, both of you too focused on each other’s breath, the foreign heartbeat invading your ears, transporting you to a world where only the two of you existed.

"Tae," you murmured, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes fixed on his. You felt like with every word, the ground beneath your feet was disappearing, but you kept going, "I think... I think I’m falling in love with you." The words hung in the air, filling the silent space between you two.

He didn’t respond. He simply watched you, feeling the gentle sway of your body against his. His hands, now a little stiffer, remained on your waist, but his fingers began to tighten slightly, as if trying to hold onto a truth he didn’t fully understand. His lips, pressed in a thin line, trembled for a moment before returning to silence. He wanted to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat, as heavy as the feelings he was just starting to understand. His thoughts were a whirlwind, unable to find an anchor in what he truly felt, so he just stayed there, your words floating in his mind, repeating over and over, tormenting him.

And you? You just let it go, convincing yourself that he needed time. You knew it was hard to find the words for something so new. At least that’s what you told yourself, trying to silence the fear that started growing in your chest, the fear that this silence wasn’t the prelude to something beautiful, but the confirmation that your paths would never be the same.

“What did you say?” Jiwon frowned, not out of anger but confusion. You had left him? Really? Up until now, everything she had heard about you—from Taehyung—painted a picture of someone completely in love, head over heels, someone who seemed to give everything for him. So why would you leave? Something didn’t add up.

Both remained silent, the only noise filtering into the room was the distant buzz from the exhibition inside the museum. There was a certain tension in the air that neither of them could decipher, mostly because they were both focused on two very different things. Jiwon was trying to understand the torturous silence and torment that seemed to invade Taehyung every time your name came up in conversation; and he… he was trying to explain the situation without breaking apart in the process. He didn’t like remembering the past, didn’t like reliving the happy moments by your side because he knew they’d only remain as fleeting memories erased by time. And he didn’t want to forget you, didn’t want to lose you. You had left a mark on him in a way no one else ever had. Who else could understand him the way you did? Who else could play a melody as harmonious as the one you played every time you sat in front of his piano? Who could allow themselves to open up the way you did with him? To Taehyung, you were one of a kind, a treasure that no amount of money could buy or replace. If only his past self had thought the same, maybe…

Taehyung let out a sigh, softly biting his lower lip. He felt frustrated, lost, hurt… how could he put everything he felt into words when the wound was still open? Wasn’t it supposed to be that you healed first and then made sense of the situation? Even so, he tried. He tried to tell Jiwon the reason you had left. “It was my fault, Jiwon… damn it, it was my fault,” he murmured through clenched teeth, the lump in his throat growing more suffocating, his eyes burning more and more. “If it weren’t for me, she’d still be here, with me, and… and maybe… just maybe…” he pressed his lips together, looking at Jiwon with eyes full of pain, of regret, “she’d still love me.”

Jiwon observed him in silence for a few seconds. She hadn’t missed the fact that he still hadn’t told her the truth about why you had left him. So far, all he had admitted was that it was his fault and that you were the one who left, but the reason was still being dodged, and it was beginning to frustrate her. She wasn’t a patient person; she had waited four years for him to spit out whatever was tormenting him so much. She didn’t intend to give him more time—he had already had the opportunity to wallow and cry over his own misery. Now it was time to face reality, to face the present. It was about time he left the past where it belonged.

“Taehyung,” she grabbed his cheeks between her hands, perhaps a bit too roughly, but she didn’t care. She wanted to help him, truly wanted to, but time was running out, and his ramblings weren’t helping much. “Tell me right now what the hell happened between you two.”

"Then… What do you like more? Painting or music?" you asked, a playful smile decorating your beautiful face as you held a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. You had been with Taehyung for almost five months, and each day spent with him made you feel more comfortable, more at home. You were no longer embarrassed to be his model, and you didn’t mind looking at him for hours while he captured your image on the blank canvas. A few days ago, you had also lost the shame of being next to him, skin to skin, heart to heart. You had forgotten how good it felt to be with a guy.

Your eyes were fixed on Taehyung, on how the summer linen shirt barely covered the top of his body and how small maroon marks stood out on his neck and collarbone. You felt a slight wave of heat cover your face as you remembered the previous night, and all the ones before it. You could still feel his warm, rough hand on the bare skin of your waist, his soft sighs against your lips, and his eyes covered by a layer of lust.

"Hmm, I think… I prefer admiring music, and creating paintings," he smiled as he answered, letting his brush float over the blank canvas, tracing every detail of your figure, from the shine in your eyes to the pink of your plump lips. "What about you, Y/N? What do you prefer?"

"Me?" You paused for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. You were surprised that he returned the question— you’d be lying if you said otherwise. You stopped to think for a moment. Music or painting? You loved art in all its forms, you loved going to museums and admiring the classic works that everyone knew, as well as those hidden in a corner that rivaled the beauty of the classics. You also loved music, attending recitals, concerts, seeing a live performance like The Phantom of the Opera or Hamilton— that was one of your biggest dreams. But...

A slight smile painted your lips as you thought of your answer. "I prefer to write."

"Write?" Taehyung set the brush aside for a moment, focusing entirely on you, not the beauty that so enchanted him or the inspiration you made him feel, but on you as a person. Even though you had been getting to know each other for months, Taehyung didn’t know much about you, aside from basic things like your name, age, and a few likes you had casually mentioned.

"Yes, I studied a degree in literature in Paris. Actually, I had returned to Korea the same day we met," you laughed softly, hiding the lower half of your face behind the bouquet of flowers Taehyung had asked you to use for today’s session. "I’ve always… been captivated by books and the emotions they could evoke in people, how you could get so immersed in a story just through the words of someone you've never met… I… really want to become someone who can provoke those intense emotions just with words, cross the barriers of language and culture…" You lifted your gaze, locking eyes with the bright man in front of you; his eyes so full of life, his heart-shaped lips, his messy dark hair, stained with paint from his hands. He was a work of art in itself, one you had admired constantly from the very first moment. "I guess that’s why I was captivated by you the first time we spoke… knowing that you were able to achieve everything I’ve always wanted with your art… made me see you as a role model, I suppose."

With slightly trembling hands, you set the bouquet aside, walking slowly and unsurely towards Taehyung. You didn’t stop until you were in front of him, feeling the warmth of his skin close to yours. You stretched one hand to rest it on his shoulder, lifting the long skirt of your pale pink dress just enough to raise your leg. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you positioned both of your legs around his, in an intimate yet comfortable act at the same time. You brought your face closer to his, resting your forehead against his.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, just before saying, "Anyway, I don’t think that matters… I stopped seeing you that way a long time ago."

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He rarely responded to comments like that from you. Besides, it’s not like you could say anything when his lips were against yours, his paint-covered hand caressing your cheek, leaving a trail of color on your skin as he brought his face closer to yours, wanting to feel you closer, wanting his kiss to convey everything he felt. You felt his other hand caressing your thigh, lifting your dress higher as his hand moved closer and closer to your waist.

You didn’t need words when you could feel it this way, you thought. That would be enough for now.

Taehyung was aware that he needed to speak, that he had to let out what he had been hiding for so long, even if it was difficult for him. He thought that perhaps, the perspective of someone distant and completely detached like Jiwon could give a new twist to his memories, maybe with her help, he could reflect on what had happened. But knowing what he had to do was very different from being ready to do it.

Still, despite the insecurity and anxiety that speaking it out loud caused him, he said it, for the first time, to someone else other than himself.

"I think... I think it all started after Y/N confessed her feelings for me," he said with a trembling voice, his hands shaking slightly as he prepared to tell Jiwon the truth behind his separation from you. "Everything felt too overwhelming, I was too absorbed in my own art, in what I wanted, in what she meant to my art, and..." he closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in an attempt to avoid breaking down in tears again, "I guess I forgot she was more than just a muse for me... I forgot she was a person with emotions, with feelings..." He lifted his gaze, looking at Jiwon’s expectant eyes. "The only way I knew how to love was through my art, through my paintings... but I completely ignored the fact that... by doing that, I forgot her, I neglected her... I treated her like a replacement."

They both fell into silence for a few seconds. Jiwon observed him attentively while Taehyung seemed to be lost in his own world, lost in his memories and his own pain, in the moment when you confronted him, in how your tears started falling the moment he didn't know what to say to you, too afraid of how it might affect your relationship with him, not realizing that it was precisely that insecurity that would separate you permanently.

As Taehyung vividly recalled the day of your separation, Jiwon was trying to analyze everything he had said up to that point, trying to piece it together as best as possible. There was one doubt that lingered in her mind, one piece that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fit together. "Replacement"... did he really say he treated her like that? She was sure she had heard him use that word. She glanced at him sideways, noticing how his hands were clutching his dark hair, pulling at it in a desperate movement. She didn’t feel completely comfortable interrogating her best friend while he was in such a vulnerable state, but the unease and the urge to intervene were too strong, even for someone as controlling as her.

"Taehyung, by any chance... did you treat her like a replacement for Joohyun?" she said softly, watching every little change in Taehyung’s expression, looking for any sign that could tell her what was going on in his mind. She wished she was wrong, she really did, but the fact that he had just used that word... it was hard to think of anything else.

She knew she was right the moment she saw how his brown eyes filled with tears.

"How much longer? My hands are starting to cramp," you murmured, feeling the exhaustion weigh on you. The moonlight streamed through the window, delicately falling on your sleepy face. It was a view worthy of being captured in a photograph, but Taehyung knew that, even if he did, it wouldn't be the same. A photo couldn't express the emotions he was feeling in this moment.

"Just a little longer, Y/N, hold on a bit more," he said softly, finishing painting your dark hair. His heart raced every time his eyes met yours, noticing how they seemed to reflect the stars and the moon. He'd painted hundreds of women in the past, had a muse here and there, but no one had made him feel the way he felt right now. Not even Joohyun. "God... you're so beautiful, it's so easy to feel inspired by you."

You watched him in silence, noticing how his hands moved over the canvas, how his eyes shifted between the painting and you in a matter of seconds. You could see the adoration and admiration in his gaze, and yet, you couldn't help but feel a slight tug in your chest. The thought had been lingering in your mind for days, but the insecurity and fear of hearing his answer had kept you from asking it until now.

At least until now.

"What am I to you?" you murmured with a trembling voice, gripping the soft fabric of your dress. The pressure in your chest and the knot in your stomach grew with each passing second without an answer from Taehyung. You were scared to know the truth, scared of what his answer might be, but you needed to be sure of his feelings for you. You needed to know if he saw you for who you were or if he simply… treated you like another one of his models.

"What kind of question is that?" he laughed softly, putting aside his palette and brushes, gazing at the painting before him. It was absolutely hypnotizing, like all the ones he'd done since meeting you. He couldn't explain it, but every painting he'd done with you as the subject made him feel satisfied with his work. "You're my muse."

"Is that all? Nothing more?" You watched as Taehyung carried the freshly finished painting alongside a pile of other works he'd made since meeting you. The lack of interest he seemed to show toward your question made your heart ache. You were sure you hadn’t been imagining things; you saw the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, how every little thing you did seemed to dazzle him in a way that was almost exaggerated, as if your mere existence enchanted him. So why did it now seem like he had no interest in you? In what was between you?

"Why do you say it like that? It’s important to me," you murmured, your heart breaking a little more with every word he said. "I needed to finish the next exhibition, and I couldn’t find inspiration after Joohyun left... when you came into my life, it was like a lifeline. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there that night. I probably would’ve had to, I don’t know, post an ad on the internet asking for a model or something."

"I was her replacement," you interrupted, standing up from the chair you’d been sitting in for the last five hours. Your legs trembled; you weren’t sure if it was from the time you’d spent in that position or because of the overwhelming urge to cry, but it didn’t matter, not now, not when the person you loved had just told you to your face that you were nothing more than a tool to achieve his goal. That, just as you were, it could’ve been any random girl who offered herself. "All this time... all we’ve been through together... didn’t it mean anything to you? Did you only care about finishing your work?"

Taehyung turned to look at you, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the tears silently streaking down your cheeks. He felt his mouth dry and his heart tighten at what he had just said. He had never thought of you as a replacement, right? You were beautiful, and he wanted to capture that beauty in his work; that was it.

No. No, it wasn’t. He knew it, but still, he couldn’t deny what you had just said. There were emotions involved, of that he was sure, but was it love? Was it really love? His heart had just been broken almost half a year ago, wasn’t it too soon to fall in love so quickly? Wasn’t it unethical?

"You never said it," you said with a broken voice, your bottom lip trembling with each word that left your lips. "You never answered when I told you I loved you."

"You're really an idiot," Jiwon let out a deep sigh, pressing her hand against her forehead. "How is it even possible that you said that? Do you have a brain? Of course, you do, but it's obvious you don't know how to use it."

"I know it was a mistake, I know, believe me," Taehyung watched her get up, feeling the urge to do the same, but the numbness in his legs and the trembling in every part of his body prevented him from moving. "I've replayed that moment in my head over and over, thinking about everything I could've said, how the situation could've been different if I... if only..." He let out a sigh, tugging at his hair with force. "I loved her... I still do, I always have, but... I don’t know... I was so desperate for inspiration, for recognition for my art that... I forgot."

"What did you forget?" she murmured, watching as Taehyung's hands lowered to his knees, burying his short nails into the fabric of his suit pants. "That the poor girl, surprisingly, also had feelings and wasn't just a doll you could use for your work?"

Taehyung knew Jiwon would react this way, after all, he had thought the same thing after his conversation with you. Still, it was hard not to feel hurt by his friend's cold words, no matter how much he felt he deserved them.

"I forgot that the reason I approached her in the first place was because I loved her," he whispered after a few seconds of silence, biting the inside of his lip to keep any sob from escaping. He didn’t deserve to cry; he wasn't the victim in this situation. "I loved her, Jiwon, like I had never loved anyone in my life. She was so much more than my muse. The only reason I was able to paint was because she made me feel alive, because she made me feel like it was worth showing the world the same beauty I saw in her. I wanted the world to see what I felt, but I never thought that by doing so... she... she would leave me."

"Well, shit," Jiwon crossed her arms, pacing in circles in front of him. She felt nervous, restless, and insecure. She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out her phone and quickly sending a message to one of her saved contacts. It was just as she pressed send that she realized something. "Wait, with what you just told me, she never mentioned anything about leaving you."

Taehyung looked up, his eyes seemed dull, lifeless, desolate, just like he'd felt over the last four years without you by his side. With one last sigh, he gave her a soft, weak smile, devoid of happiness. "That’s because she didn’t leave me at that moment, Jiwon."

Taehyung felt restless, pacing back and forth, staring at the window like a madman, desperate for any sign of you that would indicate you were still alive. It had been almost three days since your last conversation, and during those days, he hadn’t received any sign of life from you. The anxiety began to consume him like never before. Were you okay? Were you eating three meals a day? Were you staying hydrated? Were you sleeping enough? What if you had caught a cold? What if you’d had an accident?

It was just when his mind took him to the worst possible scenario when a soft "knock knock" sounded on the front door, followed by a “Can I come in?” from your side.

With his heart in his hand and his stomach almost in his throat, Taehyung ran to the door, opening it too quickly. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide his desperation anyway.

"...Hey," you said quietly, looking at him with a barely perceptible smile. It wasn’t like the smiles you had given Taehyung in the past. There was no familiar sparkle in your eyes that made him feel weak and excited, and your voice didn’t have the affectionate and cheerful tone it used to have before your last conversation. But there you were, in front of him, looking just as beautiful as always, being the pillar that kept him standing during his worst moments. “Can I… come in?”

Unable to say anything, Taehyung stepped aside, letting you enter his studio, watching as you walked gracefully and delicately through the place decorated with hundreds of paint jars and canvases of all sizes, most of them empty.

"Y/N, I..."

"Let me speak first, please," you said in a calm tone, turning to look at him. Your expression was serene, but it carried the same pain as the last time you saw each other, and that broke Taehyung in a way he didn’t even know he could feel. “I want to apologize for the other day. I think... I think I got carried away by how I was feeling, and I completely forgot that, from the beginning, what we had was only a work-related relationship.”

“No, wait, don’t apologize…”

“Let me finish,” you approached him, your steps slow and unsure. You were scared, afraid of making a mistake again, of taking the wrong path, of opening your heart once more and leaving even more hurt. But you knew this conversation was necessary. “What we had was a contract, yes,” you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts as best as you could, “But… I’m aware that over time, we both developed feelings for each other. I know what I felt for you, I know it was real and genuine and intense... and I know you feel something for me too. It might not be the same way I feel, but it's there; the way you look at me, how you treat me, I know it was mutual because I could feel your love for me in every moment I was by your side. I know it wasn’t my idea.”

Taehyung felt a weight lift off his shoulders. You understood, you knew how he felt even without him saying a word, and that made him feel even more captivated by you. He wanted to hug you, kiss your face, stroke your hair, feel every little piece of skin he could touch, kiss every corner of your body to show you that what you were saying was true; he loved you.

“But... I can’t allow myself to keep suffering for your indecision, Tae. I don’t want to give everything of myself while I wait for you to feel ready to take the next step,” your lashes fluttered quickly in an attempt to ward off the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. Even though you felt like you were breaking inside, you kept that weak smile on your face until the end. “I don’t plan on staying by your side, begging for the minimum I deserve…” you moved even closer to him, lifting your hands to touch his cheeks, caressing his cheekbones with great delicacy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and continued, “So I’ve made the decision to leave, to... to give us some space to think things through... so that you can get over whatever it is that’s stopping you from moving forward with this... and while you do that, I... I will continue with my life... waiting for you to fix your problem... waiting for you” you whispered against his lips, barely separated from yours by a few centimeters.

Taehyung barely had time to process everything that was happening. He didn’t want to accept what you were saying, he didn’t want you to leave, to abandon him, to leave him on his own.

But he knew you were right, he knew this would only hurt them more, that he needed to separate his muse from his love for you, and if that process hurt you, then... he would have to let you go.

“How am I supposed to find you again?” he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him as much as his body allowed. He licked his lower lip, feeling it getting drier and drier, “I already gave all my luck in doing it once...”

“I know you will,” your tearful eyes met his. They both seemed to express the same thing; pain, loss, love. “I trust you.”

And finally, you brought your lips to his, releasing all the emotions you had kept inside since the last night you were together.

The kiss was overwhelming, full of desperation, tears, and small sobs escaping from both of them. It was slow, soft, delicate, and felt like what a farewell kiss should feel like between two people who could have had everything but were not yet in the right place, who weren’t ready for whatever they would have to face if they were together. It was a kiss of promise, a “see you later” that kept the question of how long it would take to feel that way again.

That moment was, without a doubt, the one that marked both of them the most. That moment was the one Taehyung framed in the last canvas of his final collection; The 1.

“I feel a bit overwhelmed by all the information I just received,” Jiwon murmured, uselessly shaking her hair. Her hands seemed to tremble softly, and judging by the shine on them, sweat was beginning to cover them. “I mean, I understand what happened… more or less, but this whole situation is so… I don’t know, intense?” She turned around to look at Taehyung, who was still sitting at the side entrance of the museum. “You two sound like two hopeless idiots who have no idea how to get over your fears and differences, and that frustrates me so much. If I didn’t care about you so much, I’d probably be hitting you by now.”

Taehyung let out a small laugh. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t funny, it was just some kind of impulse, a reaction Jiwon always managed to get out of him whenever they were together. It reminded him why they were friends. Taehyung was the sensitive side of the friendship, Jiwon the rational side, and both complemented each other, which was why they had made it this far without killing each other in the process.

“I know… we were young and stupid… maybe if we had talked things through better… if only… I hadn’t been so scared to admit what I felt,” Taehyung sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. He wanted to be strong, face the situation in a mature and responsible way, but it was so hard. Years could pass, but your presence and the effect you had on him… that would never change.

“Don’t bullshit me, that was four years ago, you weren’t that young and naive,” she muttered under her breath, fidgeting restlessly. She lifted her head, looking at the clear sky above them. She thought maybe by doing that, she could calm down a little, take a breath before continuing. “Okay, fine, let me…” she let out a sigh that seemed to have been held in for a long time, her gaze, usually cold and direct, now completely avoided Taehyung’s. “I have something to confess.”

Taehyung furrowed his brows, observing Jiwon’s hesitant expression, how her hands moved over the fabric of her pants, how she walked back and forth awkwardly. He could tell something was disturbing her, and it made him feel even more uneasy than he already was. “What’s going on?”

“I know her,” she murmured almost immediately, stopping to look him in the eyes. The doubt and insecurity were still there, she didn’t know if this was the right decision, but she couldn’t hide such an important detail from Taehyung either. He was her best friend, she wished him the best, wanted to see him happy, and if she could help, even a little… she would. “I’ve known Y/N for years… three, to be exact.”

Summer had arrived, and with it, all the memories you shared with Taehyung. It had been a year since your farewell, and although you were the one who decided to end whatever it was you had at that time, the pain of losing him hadn’t diminished at all. You could still vividly recall every inch of his face: his smile, his eyes, the mole on his cheek, on his nose—every tiny detail felt as close as the last time you were with him.

You had spent the past year moving from one part-time job to another, never relocating to a city too far from where you met Taehyung, holding onto the hope of running into him again as soon as possible. You didn’t feel ready, of course; not enough time had passed to move on from your relationship with him. But that didn’t mean you missed him any less—the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his work, his deep laugh, his soft voice, the way he danced to music your grandparents would listen to.

You missed everything about him, and you no longer knew how to deal with the loss. You had never officially been together, but it had felt like the most real relationship you had ever experienced in your life, even if it had lasted only a few months, even if it had left you feeling used. You wanted to go back to him, to take back your words, to see if you’d still be together if you hadn’t said what you did.

But your rational side—the side that tried to protect your heart from the pain of failed romances and relationships that could hurt you—repeated that you had done the right thing. You weren’t ready for each other, and if you were lucky, you’d find him again, and this time, he’d be ready to let himself be loved and to show his love openly.

You stared at the triangular-shaped glass sitting on the coffee table in front of you. You were almost certain it was lemonade, but you couldn’t quite remember what you had asked the waiter for, and you didn’t feel like asking. Picking up the glass, you took a sip, grimacing as an odd taste hit your tongue. It wasn’t lemonade. You cursed yourself internally for being so caught up in the past that you hadn’t paid attention to what you had said or done in the present.

“Hey! You must be Y/N, right?” A blonde woman in a black suit approached your table, pulling you back to reality and the present. She carried a leather bag over her shoulder, and resting on the bridge of her nose were black glasses that matched perfectly with her suit. Everything about her screamed “boss” and “woman in charge,” and just watching the elegant and confident way she walked made it clear she was someone decisive who didn’t beat around the bush. She was everything you were not.

“Miss Han?” you murmured, standing up from your chair to greet her properly. You were slightly taken aback when she casually tossed her bag onto the chair, but you decided not to comment on it. After a brief bow from both of you, you sat down again, facing each other. You felt quite intimidated by her—not just because she was more than ten centimeters taller than you or because of her elegant haircut and confident posture. She genuinely looked like someone who didn’t tolerate nonsense.

“Please, just call me Jiwon,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. Her cold, calculating gaze scanned you from head to toe. “So… you’re the new editor, huh?” she asked as she picked up the drinks menu from the center of the table. Her glasses were still on, but you managed to catch a glimpse of her blue eyes when she lowered her head to look at the menu.

“Uh, yes, that’s me,” you said in the steadiest voice you could muster, straightening your posture in your chair. You wrapped your hands around the glass of… whatever it was you had ordered, gripping it tightly until your knuckles turned white. Your nerves were at their peak today, and her presence wasn’t helping. Perhaps it would have been better not to come to the interview today.

“Oh, do they serve alcoholic drinks here? What a surprise,” Jiwon hummed, too engrossed in the menu to notice your panic. “I think I’ll order a mimosa… no, better yet, soju. Just one bottle. It’s been a stressful day,” she sighed heavily. Her perfectly painted red lips let out a deep exhale. For a moment, you wondered if the woman in front of you was really your boss or a runway model. She had the physique for it.

“You’re going to drink? How will you get home? You came by car, right?” you muttered before you could stop yourself. Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized you had just questioned your potential boss, someone you had only just met.

“Huh? Yeah, I came by car,” she said nonchalantly, waving over a waiter to politely order a bottle of soju and some gimbap. “See that guy at the table behind me?” she murmured once the waiter left, pointing to a young man, probably your age, sitting a few tables away. He was leaning on his hands, staring at Jiwon’s back with an overly wide smile—one of those smiles that looked like it would give him a facial cramp. “That’s my secretary. He’s the one who brought me here.”

“Secretary?” you blurted out in surprise, glancing at the guy. Did she notice the way he was looking at her right now? Because he definitely didn’t seem like the type to be a secretary.

“Yeah, ignore his stupid face. He always looks like that,” she said, resting her chin on her hands and pushing her glasses up to rest on the top of her head, where her bangs met her hairline. “Now, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Y/N?”

“Well…” You cleared your throat, trying to hold her gaze. You lasted no more than five seconds, but at least you tried. “I studied literature here in Korea, and… uh… I went on an exchange to Paris, where I finished my degree.”

“Do you have any previous work experience in this field?” she tilted her head slightly, and you swore you heard her secretary sigh.

“I edited some books for independent authors this past year…” You decided not to mention your time working at a bookstore or the other small jobs you had taken to pay rent.

Before Jiwon could comment further on your sparse experience, her secretary approached the table and handed her a phone. You caught a blurry image on the screen—it was an incoming call.

You weren’t the type to snoop, really, but it was impossible not to glance when the guy was practically offering it on a silver platter. You saw the contact name and, for just a second, caught a glimpse of the photo. Your chest tightened as you recognized the picture.

“Ugh, I told you not to interrupt, Jungkook,” Jiwon muttered before taking the phone to answer it. “What do you want? I’m busy,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table and inspecting her nails with boredom.

She spoke to him with such confidence that it made you wonder what kind of relationship they might have. Were they friends? Family? …Partners?

“Why should I care if you’re alone on a day like this?” she rolled her eyes, slumping back in her chair. “Fine, I’ll buy you one on my way home. Happy now?” She fell silent for a moment before muttering a goodbye and ending the call. “Sorry, personal issue.” She handed the phone back to Jungkook, refocusing her attention on you. “Now, where were we?”

You glanced at her phone, lost in thought for a second. They knew each other, and judging by her tone, they were close—but not romantically involved. You doubted she’d be that curt with her boyfriend. Turning back to her, you felt a newfound determination in your gaze.

She knew Taehyung. She could be the bridge between the two of you when the time came. Taehyung could find you more easily if he knew you worked for one of his friends. You adjusted your hair, tying it into a firm bun to keep any stray strands in place. You were going to get this job, no matter what.

“What do you mean by that, Jiwon?” Taehyung’s voice sounded a bit more agitated than before, mostly because now both of them were running toward Jiwon’s car, desperate to get to her publishing house as soon as possible.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I told you I know her, idiot!” She pulled the keys to her car out of the bag she was carrying on her shoulder, unlocking the doors. She gestured with her head for him to get in the passenger seat. She didn’t have time for explanations, not now, at least. I mean, it was three damn long years she needed to explain, and although she could probably give him a summary with the essentials, her brain wasn’t ready to form the timeline properly.

“Could you elaborate a little more!?” As soon as he was inside the car, he slammed the door – a bit too hard – and buckled his seatbelt, taking longer than he should have because of the constant trembling in his hands. Knowing that Jiwon knew you… that she knew where you were, that she had the possibility of seeing you again, of apologizing in person… It was just too overwhelming.

“Shut up and let me do my job as your friend,” she muttered, checking the rearview mirror to make sure no car was coming. Once she was sure nothing or no one would cross their path, she started the car and accelerated as much as she could legally do on the street… and maybe a little bit more than what was legal. “Ugh, damn it, I never thought I’d do this for you. Can you see how low you’re making me fall? I’m playing Cupid-for-second-chances, this is disgusting,” she glanced at him sideways, her eyebrows furrowing in her frown, “you owe me big time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung, still reeling from the news and scared by the excessive speed at which Jiwon was driving, grabbed one of the handles on the ceiling of the car, watching as the buildings seemed to flash by on either side of them. He swallowed, just before looking at Jiwon. “O-okay, I’ll give you whatever you want, seriously, just… could you slow down a little? I’m not sure how legal this is…”

“A speeding ticket doesn’t kill anyone,” she murmured with indifference, ignoring Taehyung’s insistence to slow down, even just a little.

Still feeling his chest tighten and his nerves on edge due to the situation, Taehyung stared intensely as the buildings became more familiar, as they got closer to the publishing house where Jiwon worked, and the closer they got to you, the more his insecurity grew.

What if you didn’t want to see him again?

“Do you think she’ll want to see me?” he murmured softly, gripping the car handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Jiwon, on the other hand, wasn’t in a very different situation. Her hands gripped the wheel as if her life depended on it, her furrowed brow and serious expression, which so often characterized her, were back, something that, to some extent, calmed Taehyung’s anxious and uncertain heart. At least one of them could keep control of themselves… even if it was just a little.

“If it’s the Y/N I think it is… then yes, she wants to.”

"I don’t get it, why do you want to work in the art section? I thought you liked fantasy books, romance, and stuff like that." Jiwon observed curiously the draft you were holding in your hands, absentmindedly chewing on a tomato and cheese sandwich. It was lunchtime, and her new employee couldn’t even take a second off from her work, and she wasn’t sure if that should make her happy or worried. At least it was fun spending time with you.

"I do like them, yeah, but... uhm... there's someone I like, and he... he really likes these things, and I just... wanted to learn a bit more about his world." A shy smile appeared on your face, your gaze dropping to the book sketch you were holding in your hands. "And, well, I wanted to know if, by any chance, someone might have written about his works in any of these books."

"Oh, I get it, you have a crush on an artist." She laughed loudly, playfully putting her arm around your shoulders. She raised an eyebrow and carefully watched the embarrassed expression on your face. "Did you have any luck finding him in any of those books?"

"Yeah..." You pursed your lips slightly, avoiding Jiwon's inquisitive gaze at all costs. "But I’m not planning to look for him... at least not yet, I need to give him time, I need to... wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?" She murmured, confused, watching as you held one of the sketches tightly against your chest. She knew that one, she had flipped through it a bit when she came to check if Taehyung appeared in it.

"Wait for him to be ready," you replied, looking at the sketch you were holding. You had seen his interview and the photos attached with it, photos of the works Taehyung had made during your time together. You had read the interview over and over again, feeling your heart race every time he mentioned you, the way he talked about you... it gave you hope that he still loved you, even though it had been a year since the goodbye.

"Wouldn’t you like to meet another guy? I know a guy, who also happens to be an artist, who I really think you’d get along with," Jiwon said with a big smile, pulling out her phone to show you a picture of Taehyung. "He’s handsome, right? Just like you see him, he's still single, he has horrible luck with women."

You laughed softly, finding the situation quite ironic. You stared at the picture for a few seconds, smiling as you saw his face again, not in interview photos or ones taken from the internet, but a picture of him, one where he looked relaxed and happy. That was the Taehyung you had fallen in love with.

"Could you give me his number?"

“Get in the elevator.” Jiwon stopped in front of the tall metal doors that almost reached the ceiling. Once they opened, she pushed Taehyung inside, ignoring his complaints and confused expressions. “Tenth floor, office 1013.” Before the doors closed, Jiwon raised her index finger, pointing it at him threateningly. “Don’t you dare screw it up this time, Kim. This time, the girl has me to give you the beating you deserve.”

And the doors closed.

Now that Taehyung was alone, his mind couldn’t help but flood with emotions and questions, keeping his nerves on edge. What if it wasn’t his Y/N? What if you didn’t love him anymore? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you weren’t ready? ... What if you’d found someone else?

Hundreds of questions echoed in his mind as the elevator climbed to the tenth floor. He was scared, nervous, excited, tense—all at the same time. He didn’t think he could bear the thought of losing you a second time in his life. He didn’t want to.

The sound of the elevator doors opening distracted him from his internal monologue, preventing him—at least somewhat—from imagining even worse scenarios. With a lump in his throat and the fear of being rejected again, he stepped toward the door marked 1013. The door and walls were made of glass, allowing him to see everything inside the office without even entering.

From the outside, everything seemed to be in order. A large bookshelf filled with books, mostly hardcovers of various colors and sizes, stood prominently. A tall lamp rested in one corner of the shelf, while a beautiful plant in a decorative wooden pot occupied the other. The desk appeared impeccably neat, with only a few colorful, patterned pencils resting on its surface, alongside a yellow notepad and several sticky notes of different colors and sizes.

He scanned the room for any sign of you—or at least something to confirm this was indeed your office—but there was nothing recognizable, except for the almost obsessive orderliness of the space. He knew you had a sort of OCD when it came to organization, at least in work-related matters. He still remembered how you’d almost panicked at seeing just one thing out of place in his studio, or how you’d arranged all his paints by color palettes to make his work easier. He hadn’t changed that arrangement in four years…

“Excuse me, can I help you with something?”

Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of a soft voice behind him. It was you; he was sure of it. He could recognize that voice anywhere. Suddenly, there were no more depressing or pessimistic scenarios, no more voices in his head telling him this was a bad idea, or memories pulling him back to the moment he had been with you. Now, there was only silence, and the single thought that you were standing behind him.

His chest ached, each breath he took feeling tighter against his ribs. Everything around him seemed to shrink, suffocating him. He wanted to turn around, wanted to see your face again, but fear and insecurity made it difficult. He had imagined this exact scenario in his mind over and over—every morning when he woke up and every night before falling asleep—so why? Why was it so hard to speak now that he could finally see you again? Now that he had the chance to make things right?

“Are you okay?” Your voice carried a layer of worry and uncertainty. Your hand gently rested on his shoulder, trying to make him turn around so you could confirm he was alright. You didn’t usually receive many visitors—apart from Jiwon and Jungkook—and this floor was exclusive to certain employees. You were sure he wasn’t one of them; you’d never seen him here before.

While you tried to make the man in front of you turn around to ask what he was doing there, Taehyung was trying to control the erratic beating of his heart, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm it. He had wanted this moment to come, had yearned for it since the day you walked out of his studio four years ago… but that didn’t make it any easier.

A part of him wanted to give up, to run, to prepare himself better for this moment. But another part… didn’t want to leave you, didn’t want to lose you—not after knowing what life felt like without you. He still remembered some of the moments you’d shared together, moments that made him question why his love life had always been so complicated.

Just coworkers wouldn’t sleep together, wouldn’t bring each other breakfast in bed, wouldn’t dance at sunset, pressed tightly against each other, feeling the warmth of their bodies as one. They wouldn’t kiss… coworkers wouldn’t take each other to the edge of pleasure every night until their last “project” together. And he knew it.

He didn’t want to lose that again, not now that he had the chance to get you back. So, for the first time in his life, he decided to take the leap.

“I… I’m fine,” he murmured, his voice sounding rougher than it usually was, yet still retaining its essence. And that was enough for you to recognize it.

When he turned around to finally face you, it felt as if the past four years had never happened. You looked just like the last time he’d seen you—maybe a little older, and your once-bright eyes now seemed a bit more serious—but you… you were still as beautiful as ever. You still made his heart race uncontrollably, just like you had four years ago.

“Tae?” A soft gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening slightly in surprise at seeing him there, standing in front of you. Your hands started to grow cold and clammy, and you couldn’t stop the warmth from rushing to your cheeks. You knew this day would come. It was why you’d joined this company, why you’d accepted the number Jiwon had shown you, why you’d kept your promise and waited for him all these years. Yet you’d never truly believed the day would come when he’d find you, when he’d finally come back. “You… you came back.”

Hearing his name from your lips was a shock he hadn’t expected to hit him so hard—but it did. Some things didn’t change, and one of those was the effect you had on each other.

“I need… I need to talk to you. Are you free?”

Both of you walked in silence toward the small yet elegant café located on the top floor of the building. Neither of you seemed to dare to speak first; you were still processing the fact that he had come all the way to your workplace to find you, and Taehyung was too preoccupied organizing his thoughts, repeatedly rehearsing all the things he wanted—no, needed—to say to you. Neither of you wanted to ruin this reunion.

“We’re here,” you murmured softly, glancing at Taehyung out of the corner of your eye. Your fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your dress, trying to mask the trembling in your hands. You didn’t expect a reply from him; you simply led him to a table near the balcony and took a seat in one of the four chairs around it.

Taehyung sat across from you, clasping his hands together on the table, lightly scratching the skin of his fingers. He felt anxious, worried, excited—and didn’t know how to express everything he wanted to say. He hesitated for a few seconds, seconds in which he barely looked at you, barely breathed properly.

At least he was lucky that you were a patient person.

“Y/N, I… damn it, I’m sorry, let me…” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. His gaze darted around, struggling with all his might to verbalize what he had wanted to tell you for the past four years. He licked his lips, and the table shook slightly as his restless leg bumped against it. He tried, even a little, to hide the anxiety that overwhelmed him, but his body wasn’t cooperating at all.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, tentatively reaching out to take his hands, wanting to offer at least a little comfort. You didn’t want to rush him, not if it would make him even more nervous to the point of being unable to speak. “Take your time.”

“I can’t, damn it,” he sighed in frustration, holding your hand between his and giving it a gentle squeeze, as if he needed to remind himself that you were there, with him. “I’ve already spent too much time thinking about this. I’ve practiced hundreds of times what I was going to say when I saw you again—why is it so hard to do it now that you’re in front of me…?”

You watched him in silence, feeling your heart tighten in your chest at his words. He had thought of you all these years, just as you had thought of him.

“The last time we saw each other, I… I was a jerk, a complete idiot. I knew what I felt for you—of course, I did—damn it, I’m sure I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” he licked his lips, keeping his gaze low. He felt incapable of meeting your eyes, of facing the possible rejection from you. “I should have told you then, but I was so scared… I thought that if I did, sooner or later, you’d leave me, just like Joohyun did. I thought that if it ended like that, I wouldn’t see you the same way again. And I was so damn obsessed with the intense inspiration you gave me just by existing that I completely forgot why I felt that way. I forgot that I loved you…” He lifted your hands, still trapped in his, and pressed a soft kiss to them, something barely perceptible, cautious. “I didn’t come here to ask for your forgiveness, because I don’t feel I deserve it—not after the way I made you feel. I just… I just wanted you to know that you were never just a muse to me—you were… you were everything.”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat, feeling your eyes start to sting. Four years had passed, and finally, you had heard what you had longed to hear from him. Warmth filled your chest, and in an instant, the weight you had been carrying seemed to lift. The soft kiss you had received from him made you feel like that twenty-year-old girl again, meeting him by the seaside the same night you had returned to Korea.

“Tae… could you look at me?” you whispered, eyes fixed on his dark, tousled hair from the countless times he had run his hands through it that day. A few seconds passed, and he didn’t move or say anything, as if it were too hard for him to face you after the outpouring of words he had just let out. And it truly was hard for him; what would he do if he saw rejection on your face?

But that wasn’t the case.

When he finally looked at you, he couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body or the faint sting in the corners of his eyes. There you were again, smiling at him as if he hadn’t broken your heart years ago, reaching out to gently touch his cheek in the softest, most delicate way possible, treating him as if he might break at any moment.

“Thank you for being honest with me…” you said. Your tone was much more relaxed than it had been minutes ago. The hand resting on his cheek slid down to his jawline, and your eyes studied every corner of his face that you could see. You had missed him more than you realized. Seeing him in photos wasn’t the same. Hearing about him wasn’t the same.

Taehyung observed the smile on your face, trying to understand why you weren’t angry, why you didn’t want to yell at him, hit him. Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen after everything that had happened between them? Weren’t you supposed to hate him? To move on with your life and leave him behind? That’s how it was supposed to work, right?

“I thought… I thought you’d hate me for taking so long,” he murmured softly, bringing his hand to rest over yours. At this point, it was impossible for him to take his eyes off you. It almost felt like you had cast a spell on him, one he refused to break free from.

“I promised I’d wait for you,” you gave him a smile so radiant, so full of emotion, that he couldn’t help but feel a weight lift off his chest as a small smile began to spread across his face.

With the ache in his chest slightly lighter and with a bit more confidence, Taehyung dared to ask the question he had been waiting to ask all this time. “Should we… start over?” The hand still holding yours stretched, intertwining his fingers with yours, feeling your warmth against his skin. It felt right to experience that sensation with you again.

“No.” You shook your head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as your smile grew even bigger. “I don’t want to forget how I fell in love with you,” you murmured, running your thumb over the skin of his hand, trying to get used to the sensation of his touch against your fingers once more.

A soft laugh escaped Taehyung’s lips. His eyes still felt misty, but this time for different reasons—this time, out of joy, out of happiness. “God, you’re so sweet,” he said, bringing your hand to his lips again, this time with your fingers intertwined. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, a soft smile meeting them. “Alright, then no starting over.”

“Yeah.” Warmth crept up your cheeks, and you had to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling even wider than you already were. “Can we… pick up where we left off last time?”

Taehyung watched the pink on your cheeks spread to your neck and ears, the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him. He loved having you in front of him again, and he loved that he could still have this effect on you even after all this time—because you still had the same effect on him.

With a gentle nod, Taehyung leaned closer to you, never letting go of your hand. He could feel your soft breath against his, your noses barely brushing, his eyes fixed on your lips. He had waited four years for this, and he still couldn’t believe it was about to happen. It felt almost like a dream, one he had been having for 1,460 nights in a row.

The goodbye kiss they shared had been painful—perhaps the one that had marked them both the most in their entire lives. But this? This would undoubtedly leave an even greater mark than the last. Feeling your lips against his, the faint taste of coffee, the sensation of your hair brushing against his fingers, your soft sigh of relief, and their light laughter colliding as they tried to deepen the moment made him feel like an inexperienced teenager again. But it felt good—more than good—it felt perfect.

When they parted, just a little, only enough to look at each other, Taehyung decided it was time to say the words he had held back for so long—this time, without fear, this time, without waiting for you to say them first.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as you leaned forward to kiss him. “More than anything in this world.”

You let your head rest against his hand, closing your eyes under his touch, smiling softly. You felt happy, overwhelmingly happy.

“I know,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. “I love you too.”

Masterlist.

[angelshizuka]

People on this site will be like Stolas is terrible because and then list his deliberate character flaws, like he broke his promise to his daughter, I know it’d almost like story’s have conflicts and this one was set up in season one or something. The full moon deal was really toxic and problematic, I know it’s almost like that’s why he ended it and was really focused on making sure Blitz would only stay if he wanted to. Stolas’ classism hasn’t been addressed so the show is ignoring it, it’s almost like he lost everything and is going to have to live with all lower class demons and is maybe being set up to learn what it’s like or something.

Louder for the people in the back!

These haters keep proving over and over again they don't understand what a character arc is or how characters are meant to be flawed, because it's almost like that's how storytelling works.

Like, peaceful wholesome shows where characters easily get along and get over their hurdles can be fun, I'm also often in the mood for those, but that's so obviously not the kinda show HB is, so people need to stop judging it like that.

These haters could never make me hate Stolas, because their arguments are literally WHY I love Stolas. Like yes, give me a fucked up flawed character who unintentionally keeps shooting himself in the foot before learning to better himself and how to improve his life and relationships!

[wingedshadowfan]

this post has been met w/ a lot of support (endlessly grateful <3) but i'm aware i'm just in an echo chamber-y part of the internet bcuz i saw a video today of someone analyzing this scene in such a one-sided and way, i just had to comment on it.

they claimed:

caitlyn sees vi as lesser than: hot take lol, especially considering caitlyn is a character w/ almost no confirmation bias against zaunites however sheltered/uneducated abt their struggles she might be bcuz of her privilege. and before you pull up one of the 3 quotes you use to base that reading off of, let me debunk all of them.

her "why would i ever trust someone like you" (someone who got sentenced to 7+ years in prison as a teen with no record of their crimes and was moved to solitary confinement) which was at least partly in response to vi's own antagonistic attitude. sorry but i wouldn't trust vi either if i was alone in an unfamiliar place and situation and no one knew where i was like caitlyn was, and let's not forget caitlyn still let vi out (and fun fact she even forbid the use of that cell after she became commander) bcuz she believed she'd help her solve a crime so she did trust her and saved her ass multiple times at the expense of endangering herself

the convo with ekko where she refused to acknowledge enforcers were violent against zaunites (she obv didn't think zaunites deserved to be treated this way, quite the opposite - she didn't know this was a thing bcuz she believed enforcers were always protecting the innocent and that the world was just and beautiful aka baby's first realization she'd been brainwashed), and she still told ekko he can keep the gem if he deems fit and that the undercity needed healing (this is where vi fell in love w/ her btw)

the infamous "animals" quote: ignoring its contextuality and specifically caitlyn saying that now [that she's been personally hurt] she understands how easy it is to hate all zaunites - implying she didn't before (baby's first experience in understanding how prejudice works) and that she's battling those feelings - bcuz of the few ones who staged the attack and slaughtered a bunch of ppl, not bcuz of your average zaunite's characteristics or way of life. again, she's shown a desire to help and protect zaunites who were strangers to her multiple times before bffr.

and EVEN IF you somehow managed to prove to me that caitlyn has this insane prejudice against zaunites (which i don't believe at all), vi would still be an exception to that! caitlyn falls in love with her quickly, and wants to make it work (oil and water) despite their differences - i see no evidence in her words or behavior to believe she deems vi to be inferior to her, in fact, i believe she thinks vi is better than most, zaunites and topsiders alike

caitlyn is the one with greater capacity for violence: this is an interesting one bcuz i see how this can be true in general, but not in the breakup scene. in piltover's council room, miss decorated officer and leader of house kiramman has a greater capacity for violence against zaun through her name, privilege, money and subordinates in the form of armed enforcers invading zaun. and this is not bcuz she's more violent but bcuz she's got more resources she can take advantage of. that's... how privilege works. but in the vents, caitlyn who's almost just died again and is completely tweaking out that their mission failed, she let jinx get away, vi took the choice away from her after giving her the green light, etc, she does not have a greater capacity for violence than vi.

verbal violence: her words practically don't hurt vi at all imo (bcuz they're not jabs or insults, they're confirmed statements vi isn't ashamed of, "i thought you were different but you're not. it's her blood in your veins"), but vi's words ("what if you missed?", "then why are you the one acting like her?")? doubting/mistrusting her and comparing her to her mother's killer? that must hurt like a mf, caitlyn's arc and current mental state considered.

physical violence: caitlyn lashes out suddenly bcuz of vi pulling her back (she couldn't flee so she fought) and bcuz of vi's words. she hurts vi in the worst possible way she could've, but in any real fight, where vi would've anticipated being hit and defended herself, caitlyn would've eaten dirt. it's only circumstantial that she deals so much damage and it isn't after months of sparring with ambessa that she's able to drop vi.

violence/hurting the other wasn't the main goal of that altercation for either of them, it was something that just happened bcuz of a plethora of factors, none of which have to do with how vi and caitlyn truly feel abt each other.

caitlyn looks at vi with anger and contempt/caitlyn shoves her aside quickly, efficiently and coldly after vi did so much for her, caitlyn is brutal and cruel, leaving vi on her knees to rot in the vents: i didn't read any of her behavior that way, vi might've though - and maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle but here's what i got.

what vi did for caitlyn she did by choice and/or bcuz of guilt caitlyn isn't responsible for (i do agree caitlyn asked a lot of her but it's on vi for accepting instead of drawing boundaries). as far as i remember, caitlyn does not make eye contact with vi at all (so idk abt looking at vi with contempt lol) and i see how that can be interpreted as cold, quick and efficient. it's not. it's self preservation. it's bcuz eye contact is very important to caitlyn's character. it's how she understands and connects to people. it's safe to assume she's angry at vi but much more than that, evident in her words, she feels hurt, betrayed, disappointed and overwhelmed. she chooses not to look in vi's eyes, bcuz she wouldn't be able to bear it - she shuts herself off by choice, she doesn't want to connect in that moment, doesn't want to understand or be persuaded to stay (she knows vi has the capability of doing that), and it's not bcuz "contempt/the desire to shove her aside" are her true feelings for vi, it's bcuz caitlyn tried to remove herself from the situation but bcuz she's literally spiraling (please watch that scene again, ik caitlyn is really hard to interpret bcuz she doesn't scream, cry or blow things up, but this is her losing it in her own way), she snapped impulsively when she couldn't leave and put space between herself and vi

those are my two cents.

caitlyn grew up sheltered, she's privileged, uneducated and unaware of zaun struggles, zaun identity and generational trauma, zaun's history of oppression and piltover's of police violence. she's deeply in love with vi whom she sees as an equal (she sees all people as equals), is in the process of learning and relearning truths abt herself and the world, and in a time of immense trauma, stress and pressure, she lets her fear, anger, grief and guilt blind her to how vi really feels underneath her own guilt. she loses sight of what the right thing to do is. she commits violent acts, she makes bad choices. she's not violent or a bad person. she allows herself to be manipulated. she believes no amount of good will erase those mistakes. and she still tries to set things right and gives it her all.

some thoughts about the caitvi breakup scene

i saw ppl pointing out what looks like a tear running down caitlyn's nose after her and vi's fight w/ sevika and jinx (when she finally stops hitting the wall w/ her rifle and puts her forehead to it) and it could've been just sweat, but here's why i think it wasn't:

it's bcuz vi took the choice away from her.

we all know caitlyn's parents had been keeping her in a gilded cage since she was a child. we see this symbolically in her conversation with jayce when he gets kicked out of the academy after the explosion - he's outside in the rain, but she's within the gates of the kiramman estate, under an umbrella, protected, hidden. she tells him her parents don't allow her to talk to him anymore but she doesn't care. they're friends.

we know cassandra didn't approve of caitlyn's choice to become an enforcer either (we assume caitlyn had to fight for it and her family tried to stop her). even after that "win", her mother kept meddling and made sure caitlyn would always get safer tasks - out of harm's way and where she'd never be able to prove herself or do any actual good like she'd always wanted. her own coworkers make fun of her for being a kiramman and only "playing dress up" as an enforcer - a job she decided she wanted and had been working towards since she was a child, in order to help and protect people. she'd had to fight (not for the first time) to be placed on a case, in a real guard position, to be taken seriously.

caitlyn's choice and her agency - things she's barely been given in her own life, because of her parents, her name and how sheltered she'd grown up - she'd always had to fight for. she's had to fight to be able to choose, she's had to fight to defend her choices, and she's had to fight to prove herself over and over again.

then for the first time in her life, she didn't have to fight because vi (perhaps being swallowed by her own guilt for everything jinx had done to caitlyn) gave caitlyn the ability to choose what happens to jinx. unconditionally.

and caitlyn chose. vi agreed with her choice.

take the shot.

then vi took the choice away from her in the last possible moment, physically stopping her from shooting. (now, we can talk abt what that means to someone who's never been the stronger opponent in any physical altercation they've been a part of so far, but i won't)

this is the real reason caitlyn completely disassociates shuts down, not to mention the adrenaline after almost dying again bcuz sevika wasn't playing. caitlyn goes all out hitting the wall, lets out a single tear, refuses to look vi in the eyes and tells her, "i thought you were different but you're not"

she's yet another person who denies caitlyn the ability to make a choice in her life.

it's her blood in your veins.

vi's loyalties lie with the blood of someone who'd worked for silco in oppressing the undercity, lured and blown up caitlyn's coworkers, tried to kill caitlyn (and vi) multiple times, kidnapped her from her fucking bathroom, dressed her up against her will, kept her hostage for a full day in which she with almost 100% certainty tortured her, kept her as the only person gagged throughout the tea party, asked vi to kill her, then blew her mother up along with 4 more counselors and (allegedly) attacked their memorial. talk abt taking someone's freedom of choice away.

then why are you the one acting like her?

vi - not fully without reason - compares caitlyn to her worst fucking nightmare. a psychotic killer who's caused so much fear and trauma to caitlyn that she admitted jinx's smile is all she sees when she closes her eyes, up there w/ her own mother's lifeless eyes?? and yeah, vi has a point - caitlyn had indeed grown more violent and aggressive in her desparate pursuit for revenge. that doesn't mean it hurts caitlyn any less, especially when she'd been trying so hard to do the right thing (sending a squad to catch jinx instead of a full blown armed invasion, only her and vi having hextech, clearing the streets first), and vi knows this: she just automatically did what she does best - aimed for where it hurts the most. i think she even realizes she's overstepped but before she can do anything about it, caitlyn bites back reflexively and hits her with her rifle. there, in the place of the wound she once took care of herself.

the perfect storm.

the only question i have left is why everyone in this fandom keeps acting like caitlyn is the only one who hurt someone and vi is the only one who got hurt in that scene.

[velvetvexations]

I saw this trans guy who was like "bros dudes when a trans woman says she wants to force fem all men that's not about us man! arch-wymyn defender here saying stop being so mean to transfems my bros!!!!!"

and then a couple transfems adding on explaining in a really sweet and good natured way that they don't mean anything bad when they vent about masculinity and love their transmasc brothers who've found something cool and good and redeeming in masculinity that they couldn't

I don't know if those transfems understand the issue is actually just transmascs asking people to tag their kink shit, I would want to elucidate them on that, but regardless it was a perfect example of how grotesquely annoying and vacuous I think a lot of transmasc TRFs are because I wanted to hug the transfems on that post for how compassionate and reasonable they were being in comparison to the OP's stupid bullshit. So I'd be real happy if people could stop accusing me of using TRFism as a code for hating transfems AMAB when in addition to this I have a really long record of complaining about self-identified TMEs, both trans and cis.

The cis TMEs are especially insidious, btw, because they think transmascs all have Scary Kink, and I promise you that if you think I surround myself with people waiting to transmisogynistically stab me in the back, you've got a harsh winter coming when the transfeminisim zooms out of those cis women's bodies the second they trip over a TERF compilation of transfem ____breaking blogs.

But no, truly all that motivates me is internalized self-hatred and being desperate for the approval of my oppressors.