#revised version of my last post
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PRIDE !!!!! ORGULLO !!!!!
prints available here :) support ur local queer artists!!
#my art#queer pride#trans pride#lgbt pride#pride month#pride month 2025#this is a revised version of my 2023 pride card for SDPL#did this last yr and realized I hadn't posted it by itself!
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oh also in other news, I had my revision top surgery today and it went well!!
I keep fucking having to remember like omg right I had surgery today bc it was such a tiny revision so it's like the babiest surgery I've had to date compared to its "I can't straighten my spine" and "I can't fucking breathe" predecessors 😅
#revision top surgery#my friend came to pick me up (ie to sit with me in hospital until they discharged me & then walk me to tram stop & take tram home w me)#and then we just went to my flat to chill there#she made sure I got home ok and that everything was fine and we just chatted all afternoon so it was very nice ❤#also 10/10 private surgery W#record time between starting surgeon search (late december I think?) & actually getting it (beginning of april 👌)#earnings from new job so far have already covered the amount of money it cost & I'm still in the green for the year#((guys turns out having a stable income is amazing who knew x'D))#I wasn't even fucking nervous beforehand bc it was basically a less bad version of top surgery so familiar & known that it'd be less rough#and like I've already had two other surgeries in the last like 4 years so I'm just like used to it by now#everyone was professional & lovely and did a good job (obv I haven't seen result yet but it literally Cannot Be Worse than the original so#we shall see at my one week post-op dressing-removal appt next week#surgeon said he did a good job & knowing that (notably plastic) surgeons are more perfectionist abt this stuff than I am#I trust that he did)#also I ended up going with a non-trans specific service and they were great#my advice stands: if you're looking for private surgery and it *can* be done by a non-trans-specialist#go find a non-trans-specific one it'll give you way more options & they'll do a perfectly fine job
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sky whales 😌 🐋✨
#sky whales#🐋 ✨#whales#pink clouds#sparkly#fantasy#fantasy illustration#illustration#kid lit#procreate#digital art#found this in my procreate files last night#forgot i even did this!!!#i love this piece! how did i forget!!#reblogged the first time i posted this but just realized it’s an old version and i’ve made revisions since! this one is better
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Brave anon asking the big questions and winning the best prizes T^T
Thank you for the extra snippet!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
In regards to this post
YES! Thank you anon who asked!! (And anon if you’re reading this, genuinely it meant a lot to hear you wanted to see more of my stuff. Thank you ;w;)
And thank you friend!!!!! So happy you enjoyed it!! I really have a lot that I want to post that I hope people will enjoy haha, just gotta get over the hill that is this 20k+ multi-chapter fic. I did not intend for it to get this big, or stuff it this full of important events!!
I’m very glad you appreciated it!! ^^ <3
#wayward’s asks#I really have a lot to post. but I’m not sure what happened after my last year at uni#it’s like I really revved up a dead engine too much and it got directionless#so I made like. SO MUCH content but out of order#and it’s messy so I’m spending a lot of time going back and cleaning up what I wrote a few months ago when I had half a brain working haha#BUT I do work on writing every day#almost there!!!!#and a lot of what I have is like my current favorite writing#because I’ve been scrutinizing it so much#I think it’s my best work yet and I’m happy with it#AND I’ve been revising all the published chapters of HFBE#fixing problems that I had in the first chapter before I had a beta reader#and the second one too#and generally rewording things to flow better and fit the current vibe#I’ll be updating all the AO3 chapters with the updated versions when I post the next chapter for it ^^
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... Oh come on :(
#Turns out my writing piece for the school creative writing paper was accepted but I missed the deadline to turn in the revised version#:(#Man wtf#TBF the group never posted that the emails were going out like they did last time so I am not enturely at fault but man
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I've been working really hard on Sons of The Stars (abby's version)(from the vault) the last few days and I'm serious when I tell you with the way it's going, if you've read SoTS before... no you haven't.
#y'all are gonna wanna take another pass at this fic once I post the revisions because it's a lot#I'm just adding stuff and fleshing out and better explaining a lot of things in this fix#also chazz gets a whole tragic backstory he didn't have before that I pulled right out of my ass without even meaning to#and it changed everything about him and alexis's dynamic in the entire last 10 chapters#it's just finally shaping up to be the story I wanted it to be back when I originally wrote it#I'm finally at the point where I've matched the level as a writer that it needed back then#love y'all and I'm excited to share my version with you when it's finished 😊#abby's fanfic writer power hour#yugioh gx fanfiction#sons of the stars
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So glad I am a stronger version of Mimi any weaker man would have left Requiem with a Spamton plush instead of an art book
#SO ANGRY that i noticed they had the fucking polterpup plush AFTER i checked out and didn't want to spend more money#i literally cannot find a listing for that thing anymore#because of mario plush comment i literally walked right last the Mario plushies and didn't bother to look#which i'm not. complaining about my mom's comment lmfao she's right#BUT POLTERPUP IS A LUIGI'S MANSION PLUSH AND THOSE ARE SPECIAL AND LIVE ON MY SHELF#they also had Poltergust Luigi and it was the version i don't have but i dont think i need BOTH the Poltergust plushies sure the unique fac#is neat and all but i prefer my version where he's just chillin qwq#Anyways got ya with deltarune talk hook line and sinker this is a post about me talking about mario plushies now#when is it not a post about me talking about mario plushies lmfao it always comes back to my interest in smb plushies specifically#anyways thanks for reading through my tags lol qwq#OH i did not include mario plush comment lmfao#for context i was (positively) overwhelmed in the mario store at universal and my mom joked that i didn't need any more mario plushies#to help me kind of minimize my options a bit xnxbxbcbxbxbbsnc#which i might still see if i can pick up the chef toad plush somewhere but i like the sweater i got qwq#anyways she did revise that statement to mean that she thought i didn't need anymore Luigi plushies specifically which chxnxnx fucking fair#i only have 2 Marios compared to ny like 8 Luigis
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learning to be loved after forgetting what it feels like to be safe.
🥕 bae-sically fake. yoon jeonghan [1]
a mylovesstuffs production...

You swear when you made up your fake relationship, you didn't know that someone worked at the coffee shop with the same name or that your family would go to check it out. Now everyone thinks you guys are actually together, and, well, pretending to be fake partners has never been so complicated. Jeonghan plays along, and even offers you a deal—100 days to let him try and woo your closed-off heart. masterlist
genre: fake dating au, modern au, romance, comedy, slice of life, slow burn, emotional healing
pairing: jeonghan × fem!reader
content: fake dating, post-breakup healing, strangers-to-partners dynamic, deal-making [100 days to woo], protective best friends [celeste, seungkwan], healthy family, intense ex-relationship trauma, food symbolism [carrots, broccoli, lunches], nice gestures [flowers, notes, meals], respect and gentle persistence, found family warmth, strong parent-daughter bond, empowering ceo, realistic emotional pacing
warnings: idr the specific warnings for this chp, so im adding all the things that this fic will have in this and future chapters. mentions of past emotional abuse/manipulation, toxic ex, grooming mentioned [non-graphic but explicit reference], cheating and infidelity [past, non-graphic], mentions of underage grooming [girls legal but barely, predatory behavior], emotional trauma and flashbacks, ptsd-like emotional responses, manipulation disguised as affection [past], reference to stalking/following for confirmation of infidelity, heartbreak and betrayal, gaslighting implications [in past relationship], alcohol consumption, mild cursing/swearing, themes of grief and emotional vulnerability, soft romantic tension, no smut [so far; not written yet], emotionally guarded reader, indirect trauma references, workplace sexism [called out], fluffy but with realistic emotional baggage
word count: 14,464 words
✦ in fiction we trust. love, celeste ˶ᵔ⤙ᵔ˶ first of all, tysm to yuki @eclipsaria and rae @nerdycheol for messing with their heads trying to figure out how to actually use the banner in this chapter — because i fucked up [well, not me technically, but technology… long story for another day]. they genuinely tried to help with every possible loophole they could think of, and i appreciate it sm. those days were a mess, and i still don’t understand how tumblr can share a meme but not a banner. anyway. huge thanks to ro @shinysobi and k @cheers-to-you-th for beta-ing and helping me revise this fic to the best version it could be. truly, without these two, i’d have gone insane trying to perfect it all by myself. i’m so, so grateful for their advice, revisions, and all the little tips that helped shape this chapter into what it is now. i could go on and on about how much they helped, but i’ll keep it short [before i get emotional lol]. last but not least, big thanks to k, ro, rae, and yuki for helping me name the ex [and not actually giving space to actual problematic ppl in my fic]. and a big bow to jj @iknowimanicon for letting me yap and brainstorm this fic on and on. btw, this beautiful beautiful banner by yuki!!
this fic went through a lot. i’ve written around 30k words so far [it still needs editing lol], and if this chapter isn’t as fun, i hope the next ones will make up for it. i really poured myself into this story, so i hope you enjoy. this is my submission for yuki’s 100 milestone collab! it’s also jeonghan’s part from my how do you fake it series ♡ i just changed the prompt a bit and included the 100 days — which honestly made it more interesting, imo. anyway, i hope you enjoy!
tag list: @metaphorandmoonlight @smiileflower @starlight-night0 @tokitosun @hanniescookie @woncheecks @suraandsugar @https-seishu @junniesoleilkth @aeerio @i-am-confused-about-life @syluslittlecrows @starstrawb @reiofsuns2001 @honeybear-taetae @atinygracie @nonbanhg @miriamkovacova @giverosespls @lalataitai @fragmentof-indifference @cowboylikemalika @salnovna @wooingmandy @binnielovie @sumzysworld @seungcheolsblackcard @matt-sturnioloo @soonyoonswoo @studioeisa @shinysobi
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“I swear, Mom, I’m not getting married anytime soon,” you had said for what felt like the hundredth time. Your mother, however, didn't seem to hear you anymore, her eyes fixed on the wedding photo album you had been trying to avoid.
“You’re almost twenty-eight! Your cousin got married last month, and your aunt is already planning your other cousin’s wedding!” She sighed, flipping to yet another photo of the happy couple. “When will it be your turn?”
You pressed your lips together, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. She didn't get it. How could she? After the five-year relationship that ended in disaster, you hadn't exactly been eager to dive back into another serious relationship. And so, you said what you always said, a little more exasperated each time: “I’m seeing someone, Mom. We’re just waiting for the right time. It’s complicated right now.”
She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed as always, knowing you're just lying. “Oh? And who is this mysterious boyfriend of yours? Where is he, huh? Why can’t we meet him?”
“I told you, it’s complicated.”
You could see your mom’s gears turning, and you knew exactly where this was heading. “Well, if you’re really serious about him, maybe it's time you finally introduce us. You know, to make sure he’s a good man.”
Crap. You hadn't thought this through.
Your dad, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, chimed in from his chair, not looking up from his newspaper. “Is he from a good family? Are you sure he has the right intentions?”
"Yes, of course!" you said, possibly too cheerfully. Your eyes did a quick tour of the room as if they were looking for a fire alarm to pull. Naturally, your mom leaned in closer.
“Tell us his name, and we’ll go visit him. We can meet him at his work if that's more convenient.”
It was one thing to talk about a boyfriend they hadn't met, and it’s another for them to demand to meet him. Panicked, you blurted out the first name that came to your mind, “Jeonghan. His name is Jeonghan. He works at Mirage Café down the street.” You winced internally at the sound of the name. Jeonghan? Really? That’s what I said? I needed to come up with a name and that’s what my brain goes with? Not something easy, not some basic, common name, but Jeonghan?!
There was a beat of silence and you could practically hear the wheels in your mom’s head moving, and then she smiled, probably thinking she had won. “We’ll go there tomorrow. Let’s see this Jeonghan, then.”
Before you could even think of a way to backpedal, your dad nodded in approval. “Sounds good. We’ll go visit.”
You tried not to make eye contact with your mom as she smiled to herself. “Perfect. We’ll take a trip tomorrow. You’ll be happy that you let us meet him, sweetheart.”
-
The next day had arrived way too fast. You could barely eat breakfast without your stomach churning. Your nerves were through the roof, and the thought of meeting your family at Mirage Café made you want to crawl into a hole and hide forever.
When you and your family arrived, you stood awkwardly at the entrance, mentally kicking yourself for getting into this mess in the first place. Your mom marched ahead, searching for the barista. “Let’s call him, darling. He’s probably busy, right?”
“Right,” you said through a tense smile, not sounding as confident as you’d like.
She waved down a waiter. “Excuse me! Do you know any Jeonghan? He works here, right?”
Your eyes darted across the café as if you were being hunted down. You looked up at the ceiling, pleading with the universe to give you a damn break. Please, please don’t let them see through this lie. You cleared your throat, desperate to steer the conversation in another direction. “Oh, you know... he’s probably not working today. Maybe we should come back another time?” You offered weakly, trying to nudge the waiter into agreeing.
The waiter gave you a confused look. “I’m not sure... but I’ll check.”
Before you could stop him, a voice called out from behind. “Excuse me? Did someone ask for me?”
You turned around to see a tall, impossibly handsome man with an angelic smile walking towards you three. The very same man who had handed you your coffee that morning, you realized. You blinked in shock as his name tag gleamed in the light. Yoon Jeonghan? Oh no. You hadn't paid much attention when he'd taken your order, but your subconscious must have, since his name had been the first you'd thought of. Before anyone could say a word, you did something incredibly stupid. In an instant, you stood up, feeling your face flush hot with panic. You wrapped your arm around his arm, desperately trying to make this look like it had been all planned. “Oh, you're here! Mom, Dad, meet Jeonghan,” you said enthusiastically. “We’ve been together for... two years now.”
Jeonghan’s eyes widened for a split second as he looked at you in confusion, but then, slowly, his lips curled into a smile that was way too charming for your own sanity—far too practiced for how stiff his shoulders had gone. Your mom’s eyes were practically sparkling with excitement, and you could already tell this was going to spiral out of control.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” Jeonghan’s voice slid like velvet, but there was a slight corner of confusion below. He shifted his weight, then smiled at your family. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.”
Your mother, bless her heart, was practically glowing. She didn’t even ask what your relationship had been like, or anything that might have made sense, instead, she immediately started making plans. “You two must be so in love!” she gushed. “How did you meet? Tell us everything! Where are you from? What’s your family like?”
You could feel your face burning and really regretted saying two years. Jeonghan, to his credit, didn't seem fazed by her interrogation, though. He just smiled that perfect smile, and before you could say a word, he launched into the most believable, well-thought-out story about how you had met through mutual friends, weaving in little details like how we both loved hiking [which you didn't] and how we once spent an entire rainy weekend binge-watching a series together [you'd never seen it]. Your mom ate it up, of course, nodding approvingly, and you just wanted to die on the spot.
Then, Jeonghan glanced at you with a low-key teasing look, and you could see the corners of his mouth twitching. Is he laughing at me? You couldn't even tell, but just when you thought you might spontaneously combust from the pressure, your dad who had been silently observing, suddenly spoke up. “So, when’s the wedding?”
You blinked, your mind went blank. “Dad!” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Your voice was a bit too loud, and you caught the eyes of several other patrons in the café who were now all very clearly watching you. Jeonghan took this as his cue to add, “I think we’re still figuring things out,” Jeonghan said smoothly, “but I’ve been thinking next year might be a good time to propose,” and that made you choke on your own saliva.
“Next year?” Your mom’s eyes widened. “Oh, we have to start planning then! I have so many ideas—Y/N, you’ll want a nice, big wedding, won’t you?”
“Uh, I—” you tried to protest and reply with something, but your voice was lost under her excitement.
Once the initial shock of the meeting wore off, and after a painfully long conversation with your family, you eventually managed to escape the café.
You rushed out of the café, heart still pounding from the whirlwind you had just dragged yourself and a complete stranger into. He was standing by the side entrance now, sleeves rolled up, a hand running through his soft, brown hair as he stared off into the street.
You hesitated for a second before calling out, “Hey… um, Jeonghan?” He turned, eyes found yours instantly and then, a faint smile curved at the corners of his lips. “I’m so sorry,” you began, words tumbling out before you could even take a breath. “That was—that was a disaster, and you were just caught in the middle of it. I didn’t even know someone named Jeonghan actually worked here. I just made it up. I didn’t think—I never thought—”
He laughed, a warm sound that made your apology trail off. “I figured,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Kind of hard to miss how wide your eyes got when I said my name.”
You winced, hands fidgeting in front of you. “Yeah, that’s… that’s fair.”
There was a pause before he nodded toward the café with a shrug. “It was entertaining. Not every day I got introduced as someone’s long-term boyfriend out of nowhere.”
You flushed. “Seriously, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I just… panicked. My family had been asking about this imaginary boyfriend for ages, and then today, they decided to show up.” You let out a shaky laugh. “And now they think you are him, but I'm really sorry and I won't let it bother you and this was and will be a one time thing. I'll handle them.”
Jeonghan chuckled again but softly. “Well, if you’re really sorry,” he said, brushing imaginary dust from his apron, “you owe me a coffee sometime.”
“Huh?...”
He nodded. “One with my name on it, preferably. Since, you know… it is mine.”
You frowned in confusion. “Your name…?”
He gestured back toward the café. “Café Mirage. It’s mine. The whole chain.”
And you found your eyes going wide again. “Wait, you’re the owner? But you were taking orders like the other staff?”
He smiled as if he was used to that kind of reaction. “I like helping out. Keep things grounded, and it’s nice to be part of the buzz when I’m not buried in paperwork.”
You didn't know what to say to that. Turned out, your imaginary boyfriend was actually a charming, successful café chain owner who somehow hadn't reported you to security yet.
He pulled his phone out of his apron pocket and handed it to you. “Number?”
You blinked again. “You’re serious?”
He smirked. “You owe me, remember?”
You reluctantly typed in your number, thumb hovering over the final digit for a moment before committing to it. As you handed his phone back, he leaned in slightly, just close enough that his breath brushed against your cheek.
“Well,” he murmured teasingly, “that was interesting.”
You winced, glancing over your shoulder where your family was still chatting excitedly inside the café. “They get… a little overenthusiastic.”
Jeonghan straightened, grinning because he found the whole thing more amusing than inconvenient. “Yeah,” he said, pocketing his phone, “I can see that.”
You were about to apologize again, but he just waved you off and started heading back inside, leaving you standing there completely dazed.
You shrugged and headed back inside, trying to school your expression. Your dad was reaching for something in his pocket—which you assumed to be his wallet—you hurried over to him. “Dad, did you already pay? If not, I can—”
Before you could finish, your mother cut in with a pleased smile. “No need, darling. It was on the house.”
Your stomach twisted slightly. On the house? You glanced toward the counter, politely excusing yourself from your parents. “I’ll just go… thank someone real quick.”
You made your way to the front, where a woman in a black apron stood, busy typing something into the POS system. You cleared your throat, and she looked up with a kind smile.
“Hi,” you said, “um… is Jeonghan still around?”
“Yes, ma'am,” she said with a nod. “One moment, I’ll call Mr. Yoon.”
You stepped aside, waiting near a shelf of pastries, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your bag. A few seconds later, you heard footsteps behind you.
“Back so soon?”
You turned to face him, lowering your voice as you took a small step to the side, away from the counter. “Yeah. Just… I wanted to thank you again, and also to say… about the bill… you really didn’t have to do that. I can pay, honestly. I want to pay.”
He raised an eyebrow, arms folding loosely across his chest. “So you’re saying you want to pay after pretending I was your boyfriend?” You opened your mouth to protest, but he grinned and held up a hand. “Look,” he said, kindly, “it’s on the house. Just consider it my treat—call it payment for the entertainment. All you need to do is show up the day you decide to buy me that coffee.”
You bit your lip, half-smiling despite yourself. “Are you always this stubborn?”
Jeonghan shrugged playfully. “Only when I want something.”
“Okay, thank you. Seriously.” You nodded, finally giving in.
“Anytime.”
You glanced over your shoulder and saw your family was already getting up, chattering excitedly near the door. “I should go,” you said. “They’re probably already planning our wedding.”
Jeonghan laughed at that. “I look forward to hearing all about it.”
You chuckled, stepping back. “I’ll see you soon then. For the coffee.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he said, voice sounding calm and warm.
-
You slumped onto your bed, the towel still wrapped loosely around your shoulders, your hair damp and sticking to the back of your neck. It had been three days since that café incident. Three whole days and not a single text. Why had he taken your number if he wasn’t going to use it?
You sighed and rolled onto your side, staring at the soft glow of your phone screen. Was he just being nice? Had he thought your lie was pathetic and this was his way of backing out gracefully? You groaned and buried your face into the pillow. You owed him a coffee anyway, and maybe it was time to just go to the café tomorrow, buy him the damn drink, apologize again, and vanish from his life forever like the myth you accidentally became.
Just as you were scripting your own disappearance, there was a soft knock at your door.
“Come in,” you mumbled, voice muffled in pillow fluff.
The door creaked open and your mom stepped in, holding a tall glass of milk filled all the way to the brim. She made her way to your bedside table, carefully placing the glass down. “Your hair’s still wet,” she scolded lightly, tsking as she brushed a few strands back. “You’ll catch a cold like this.”
You only just hummed in response to her. Despite your age, despite the adult life you lived outside these walls, your parents still treated you like their little girl. You were only living with them again because your workplace was closer to their house than your apartment, and… because they had missed their only child. You had missed them too.
Your mom sat on the edge of the bed for a second, smoothing the blanket over your legs like she used to when you were small. You glanced at her, at the lines time had etched onto her face, and that stirred a fragile kind of love and bittersweet warmth in your chest. Your parents hadn't had the easiest childhoods. They didn't talk about it much, but you knew. Maybe that was why they tried so hard to give you the life they hadn't gotten, and they did it really well. Your dad, especially, was the reason your standards were sky high. He treated both you and your mom like queens. Not princesses, Queens. He never made either of you feel small, and even when there wasn’t much money, there had always been love and that love felt like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer.
That was why it had hurt so much when you didn’t listen to them about your ex. They knew he wasn’t right for you, they had seen the signs which you hadn't. You were too in love—or what you thought had been love. Even after it all had come crashing down, your parents didn’t say, I told you so. They didn’t shut you out, instead they pulled you in closer and protected you. They never brought him up again, and just silently patched you up with love, like they always did. You still remembered the way your dad’s jaw had clenched when he had seen you cry, and the way your mom had stroked your hair and pretended not to be crying with you.
You blinked back the sudden sting in your eyes. Your mom patted your thigh, smiling at you like she already knew you had been spiraling before she came in. “Dry your hair properly, okay? And drink the milk.”
You nodded slowly, “Thanks, Mom.”
She got up and walked to the door, pausing before she left. “You’ll be okay, you know. Whatever’s bothering you... it’ll pass.”
You nodded again, because she was always right.
The door clicked shut behind her. You sat up, reached for the milk, and took a sip. You were still annoyed that Jeonghan hadn't texted yet, but maybe tomorrow, you would go see him just to return the gesture.
You were halfway through your milk and mindlessly scrolling Instagram when a text from an unknown number suddenly lit up your screen.



-
You walked into the café wearing something casual and comfortable which was feminine but not too much, something that still felt put together without trying too hard. You glanced around, your eyes instinctively landing on the floor-to-ceiling windows. The natural light poured in like a warm hug, and you chose a table by the glass, giving you a perfect view of the area outside.
Barely two minutes passed before you spotted him. He was walking toward you, but no apron this time, just a simple outfit that still made him look unfairly good. His hair was slightly tousled, a few strands falling perfectly over his forehead, and there was that ridiculously sweet and disarming smile gracing his lips. He definitely knew the effect he had on people and didn't even try to hide it.
He stopped in front of you. “I’ve got a better spot for us,” he says softly, nodding for you to follow him.
You stood and trailed behind him as he led you deeper into the café, away from the area you had been in a few seconds ago and into a semi-private space tucked to the side. The vibe was warm soft beige and creamy whites, cozy lighting, and a calm atmosphere that immediately made you feel at home.
Once seated, Jeonghan flashed another smile. “What do you want to order? My treat.”
“But I’m here to treat you, remember?” You said.
“Exactly,” he grinned. “You’re already getting the coffee. Let me at least cover the dessert.”
You started to argue, but he gave you that playfully persuasive look, and insisted until you finally gave in and settled on tiramisu.
The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about your work, your absurd deadlines, your coworkers’ obsession with bubble tea. He told you stories about running the café chain, how he sometimes snuck into different branches just to work as a barista because he missed the human side of it. There was both laughter and comfortable silences rising between you, and before you knew it, he had completely disarmed you.
Then, as you were taking a sip of your latte, he leaned forward just a bit and said it; softly but with no hesitation. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you.”
You nearly choked on your latte. “W-What?”
He chuckled but didn't take it back. “I’m serious. You were pretty and nervous, trying to save face in front of your family... but there was something about you that just stuck to me.”
Your heart stirred, but not enough to change where it was currently locked away. You set your cup down gently. “Jeonghan, you seem like a good man… and you’re,” you gestured vaguely at him, “well, unfairly handsome, if I'm being honest, but… I’ve closed off that part of my heart for a while, and I’m not ready to open it yet.”
He didn't ask why or pry, he just smiled that same soft understanding smile. “I figured you’d say that. So how about a deal?”
You tilted your head. “A deal?”
“I’ll keep playing the part of your boyfriend anytime your family needs to see me.” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “But you give me 100 days.”
“One hundred days for what?”
“For me to woo you,” he said, eyes gleaming in a way that shook you a little more than you’d like to admit. “No pressure and definitely no expectations, just let me try. That’s all.”
You hesitated, looking down at your hands. “I’m not promising anything, Jeonghan. Like I said, my heart is… closed.” You took a breath, thinking it over; it was too much of a good deal to completely turn down. After a pause, you looked up again. “But I’m not completely closed-minded. If you want to try, you can. Just know I might not change.”
He leaned back with a satisfied smile. “I can work with that.”
You exhaled a soft laugh and nodded. “Alright then. Deal.”
The countdown began.
Two
Day 5 of 100
Your pencil glided across your sketchpad as you worked on a draft for the new balcony design of a hotel lounge. The afternoon light spilled in through the office windows, hitting your page just right as you adjusted the lines of the railing. You were lost in thought, debating whether to go for a rustic wood finish or a sleek glass border when a paper bag was dropped onto your desk with a soft thud.
“Delivery for you,” a coworker said. “From your boyfriend, apparently.”
Before you could even process, Celeste, your best friend and your cousin, launched up from her seat like she had been electrocuted. She didn't even give you a chance to reach for the bag. “Boyfriend?! Excuse me—the fuck do you mean boyfriend?” she exclaimed, already halfway through tearing open the top of the paper bag. “When the hell did you get a boyfriend? I thought you were done with love! You said you were done with love!”
You exhaled sharply, snatching the bag from her hand before she could dig in further. “Cel, can you not violate my lunch?”
“So it is lunch! And it’s from him!” she paused then looked at you accusingly, “who even is him? And why do I not know about this?”
You glanced down, eyebrows raising when you saw a folded note tucked inside, the handwriting a neat scrawl: Don’t skip meals today. — Jeonghan
You honestly weren’t expecting to hear from him after that coffee—maybe in a week or so. So when a paper bag landed on your desk today, the very next day, your brain had to short-circuit. You swallowed, the corners of your lips twitching, and pulled out the lunch box. Inside was a beautifully packed meal—teriyaki chicken with seasoned rice, grilled veggies, and a small matcha cookie tucked in on the side. Your stomach growled on cue.
Celeste was practically bouncing behind you, peering over your shoulder. “You better start talking before I call your mom.”
You rolled your eyes and gestured to her seat. “Sit the fuck down.”
She obeyed, sliding animatedly into her chair, arms crossed. “I’m listening.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Okay, so… remember how my family’s been bugging me to get married for like… two years?”
“Yeah. They’ve been on your ass because it’s their full-time job.”
“Well,” you started, picking up your chopsticks and stabbing a piece of broccoli, “I kind of told them I already had a boyfriend of two years.”
Her eyes widened. “You lied?!”
“I didn’t mean to lie-lie. I just… said a random name, and said he worked at a café.”
“And?”
“And then my parents dragged me to that café.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God—”
“And there actually was a Jeonghan working there.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth. “NO.”
“YES.”
She wheezed.
“And before I could do anything, he walked over, introduced himself to my parents, and I panicked and told them he was my boyfriend.”
Celeste fell sideways in her chair, clutching her chest like it was too much for her weak heart to handle. “This is insane! Keep going.”
You shoved a bite of chicken into your mouth. “Later, I went to apologize to him for the scene and it turns out… he’s the owner of the café chain.”
“What the actual—?!”
“So I took him up on a coffee treat a few days later, and while we were there, he told me he fell in love with me at first sight and made me a deal.” You said and calmly took another bite as Celeste shrieked. “He’ll fake-date me in front of my family whenever I need — in exchange for 100 days to woo me.” Now all you heard is silence, and so you glanced at Celeste, who was staring at you like she just witnessed a plot twist in a K-drama in real life. “…You okay?”
She nodded slowly. “I have never been more emotionally fed in my life.”
You snort. “Well, now get physically fed before I steal your lunch.”
-
Juggling your sketchpad under one arm and your nearly dead phone in your other hand, you found the front door was locked, which was weird because your parents were always home this time of day. Frowning, you unlocked it and pushed the door open.
The first thing you saw was a note, stuck right on the shoe rack in your dad’s familiar handwriting: Buy a bouquet of flowers on your way to your aunt’s. Don’t stay home—come straight there.
Your brows furrowed as you stepped in and dropped your bag. You instinctively reached for your phone to call your mom but of course it had finally died. You stared at it for a few seconds before groaning. With a reluctant sigh, you grabbed your charger for later, locked the door again, and left for your aunt’s.
-
You had expected a cozy dinner with maybe a few people. Instead, you were hit with the sound of dozens of voices the moment you stepped into the front gate. Laughter, chatter, shoes—a mountain of them—outside the door. You walked in and it was everyone. Uncles. Aunts. Cousins you hadn't seen in months. Your second cousin from abroad was there too. It was a family gathering, you realised. You blinked, recovered quickly and offered a polite smile and greeting to anyone who turned toward you. You bowed your head, murmuring ‘Hellos,’ as you shuffled through the familiar hallway, doing your best to keep your confusion hidden.
You finally found your mom in the kitchen, pulling roasted chicken from the oven. She turned around and let out a tiny yelp when she saw you. “Oh— you scared me!”
You immediately reached forward and steadied the pan in her hand. “Sorry! That could’ve burned you.”
She exhaled in relief, then smiled wide. “Everyone’s been waiting for you. Go change and plate the dishes, okay?”
You didn't move. “Wait. What is going on? Why is everyone here? Why didn’t you tell me we were coming here today?”
She looked at you, confused. “I did tell you. I sent you a text this afternoon. I told you we were all coming to celebrate your cousin’s graduation. Everyone’s in town.”
You stared at her, stunned for a moment, then groaned. “Oh my God—I didn’t see it. My phone’s been flooded with client messages and drafts and edits and now it’s dead and—ugh.”
As you were about to turn around and change, your mom gasped, her eyes going wide. “Don’t tell me Jeonghan’s not with you!”
You froze mid-step. “...What?”
“I told the family your boyfriend would be coming too. I wrote it in the text. You didn’t see that either?”
You facepalmed so hard it echoed. “Obviously I didn’t. Why would you tell them he’s coming?!”
“I thought he was! It would be so cute for everyone to meet him tonight.”
Your heart lurched. This is bad, this is very bad. “I’ll fix it,” you muttered and spun on your heel, practically running through the hallway. You darted into a spare room and locked the door behind you and slumped against it for a second. You plugged your phone in and the screen flickered to life. 1% and you didn't wait, your fingers were already flying across the screen as you found Jeonghan’s number and pressed ‘Call.’
“Hey,” his voice came through, warm and a little sleepy.
You didn't let him finish. “Jeonghan, I’m so, so sorry to bother you at this hour—seriously, I wouldn't call unless it was important. Are you busy? Or like… home and maybe willing to go on a sudden field trip?”
He chuckled. “Hey, breathe. What happened?”
You exhaled shakily. “So apparently—my cousin graduated and the entire extended family is at my aunt’s place. My mom had texted me about it but I hadn't seen it because my phone was dying and drowning in work notifications. And now I’m here, and so is everyone.”
“Okaaay…”
“And my mom—bless her—told the whole family you were coming… as my boyfriend.”
There was a beat of silence and you cringed. “So… you want me to come over and save you?”
“YES, Jeonghan. Everyone’s here. My uncles, aunts, their kids, and my mom just dropped, ‘Don’t tell me Jeonghan’s not here with you!’ I’m two seconds away from faking a stomach ache and crawling out the window.” You heard him laugh lightly as you blabbered on. “I’m seriously sorry,” you apologized again, your voice small. “Can you—would you maybe come over? You don’t have to stay long, just… show face, say some sweet things about me, eat a cookie, and then disappear. Please?”
Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm...”
“I’m begging you, Jeonghan. I swear I owe you so much after this. You can blacklist me from your café if you want, I’ll go willingly.”
He laughed again, soft and amused. “You don’t need to beg. I got you. Send me the address.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” he said easily. “I told you I’d play the boyfriend whenever you needed me. I’m on my way.”
“You’re the best. Like actually the best. I owe you dinner, bubble tea, and a kidney.”
“I’ll take the bubble tea. Keep your kidney.”
You were already typing the address with trembling fingers. “On it. Thank you. I mean it.”
“I know,” he teased. “Now hurry up before your aunt tries to set you up with your cousin’s dentist or something.”
You groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”
He just laughed again, and the call ended. Now, all you had to do was survive the next twenty minutes of nosy relatives until your fake boyfriend-slash-lifeline walked through that door.
So, what was the next best distraction? Your little cousins, of course.
You made your way to the living room where a couple of them were sprawled on the floor playing some weird version of Uno that definitely didn't follow official rules. You crouched beside them and instantly snatched a card from the youngest, who gasped and tried to get it back while shouting, “Unfair! You’re not even playing!”
“That’s because I’m a wildcard,” you smirked, holding the card high above your head while the others laughed. You spent the next few minutes stirring up chaos like, peeking at their cards, mixing up the draw pile, and accusing them of cheating just to mess around. They were yelling at you, but laughing too hard to mean it. It was the perfect distraction from your own nerves for the night.
That was, until you heard footsteps and a familiar voice that made you groan. “Well, well, well... I hear someone’s boyfriend will be here soon.”
You whipped your head around to see Celeste strolling into the room, a smug little smirk curling her lips as she sauntered up to you. She bumped your hip lightly with hers and raised her brows in exaggerated curiosity. You cussed her under your breath through a clenched smile, already bracing yourself. Unfortunately, your aunts were quicker than your panic.
“Oh, he's coming tonight, right?” one piped up from the couch.
“We’ve been dying to meet him!” another added cheerfully, leaning forward.
You internally screamed but plastered on a polite smile. “Yes, he’s… on his way.” Before the interrogation could go any further, you grabbed Celeste's wrist and muttered, “Excuse us,” before dragging her away from the living room crowd, down the hallway and toward a corner near the bathroom. “You’re actually insane,” you hissed once you were alone. “Why would you bring him up?! They were quiet, Celeste. They were probably forgetting!”
Celeste just giggled, “I’m sorry, I had to. You know I’ve been dying to meet the guy who managed to sneak past your titanium heart.”
You groaned and rubbed your forehead. “First of all, you already know it’s not like that. Second of all—okay, listen—this is what happened.” You exhaled and spilled the entire story from start to finish: how your phone had died, how you hadn't read your mom’s text about tonight’s gathering, how she’d apparently told everyone that Jeonghan would be joining, and how you had called him to come save your ass.
Celeste listened wide-eyed and gasped at all the right moments, nodding along. “So he’s at least coming, right?!”
“Yes,” you sighed. “And please don’t make it worse. Don’t act like this is some grand romance. He’s doing me a favor, okay?”
“Mhm,” she hummed with a sarcastic grin. “Of course, of course.”
Before you could smack her with a dish towel, Joshua, her long-term boyfriend, showed up with his usual sweet smile. “Hey, sorry to interrupt the secret meeting,” he said, wrapping an arm around Celeste's waist. “But I’m gonna steal her for a sec. Your mom’s calling you, by the way.”
You nodded and smiled politely at him. “She probably wants to scold me again.”
Joshua chuckled and led Celeste away as you headed back to find your mom. As expected, she was standing by the kitchen counter, hands on her hips. “Did you have to rile up the kids like that?” she asked, though her tone is more bemused than angry.
You rolled your eyes playfully. “They started it.”
“Go plate the dishes,” she said, trying to hide her smile at your childish behaviour. “And behave.”
You grabbed the fried rice and sides, neatly plating them and arranging them on the dining table. The smell was warm and rich and comforting, but it still didn't calm your nerves.
Ding dong.
You nearly launched yourself down the hallway to the front door, ignoring everyone’s curious glances behind you. There was only one person you were hoping to see on the other side, so you reached for the handle and opened it and—thank god—there he was. Jeonghan; your lifeline for the night. Your heart might have been closed... but damn, it still knew how to skip.
Jeonghan stood tall and effortlessly charming in a beige cardigan over a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver chain peeked just slightly from under his collar. He was holding a bouquet: roses and baby’s breath, just like your mom's type, and was wearing a calm smile like he hadn't just agreed to join a family gathering at the last minute.
“You’re�� kinda late,” you muttered, your hand still on the doorknob, but your heart was doing somersaults from relief.
He leaned slightly forward, the smile growing. “I brought flowers. That buys me five minutes of forgiveness, right?”
You snorted under your breath and grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside quickly before anyone else saw him and turned this into a press conference, but you knew it was too late when you heard a chorus of gasps and not-so-quiet whispers rise like a wave from the living room.
“Oh, he’s so handsome,” someone whispered.
“Is that him?!”
Your aunt gasped. “He looks just like a celebrity—”
“Is that the Jeonghan?” one of your cousins said in awe.
Jeonghan’s eyes swept over the room politely which happened to be straight ahead from the main door before turning to you with a smug little glint in his eye. “You didn’t tell me it was going to be a fan meeting.”
“Oh come on,” you murmured under your breath, forcing a smile so strained you swore your cheeks might just snap as your relatives descended like hawks circling prey.
He slipped off his shoes, and just as he was about to step onto the wooden floor in his socks, one of your aunts rushed to the door. Her eyes practically sparkled as she beamed at her niece’s so-called ‘secret boyfriend.’ You, the niece who apparently had hidden him away for two years. Without hesitation, she bent down and placed a pair of white guest slippers in front of him. Jeonghan gave her a smile so sweet it could rot teeth, and you realized he'd never be one to falter in charm. You’d admit it, no matter how many times you saw it, he really did have a beautiful smile.
As you both stepped inside, the small herd of kids and elders who had been in the living room just a minute ago, started trailing behind you. You started feeling a little self-conscious. It had been two years since you last dated anyone, and suddenly you couldn't remember how you used to act with Minho, your now ex boyfriend. If you thought about it, two years was a long time; long enough to forget the feel of someone’s hand in yours, or how you used to laugh back then when they were around. But memory had a cruel sense of loyalty, because it never forgot the pain.
How had you even fallen for someone like Minho? Someone who had pursued you first, only to break you later. If you could go back, you’d beg yourself not to say anything that night, to stay strangers.
As you poured Jeonghan a glass of water, your thoughts still swirling, you barely noticed him watching you. He smoothly tugged at the hem of your sleeve, Are you okay? his eyes asked.
You glanced at him and smiled, the smallest shake of your head telling him you were fine, even if you weren't entirely sure it was true.
Just then, your mom appeared in the living room, eyes wide and lit up with relief and happiness when she spotted Jeonghan sitting on the couch. “Oh lord!” she exclaimed, rushing over to you both. “I went to the bathroom for one second—one second, and missed the chance to greet you properly!” Her hands fluttered as she talked, clearly flustered. She was genuinely upset, as though it was absurd that she actually left the moment before Jeonghan rang the bell. The timing was almost too poetic, but that was your mom for you.
She clapped her hands then and ushered everyone to the dining room. “It’s so late now, come on, come on—everyone to the table. Dinner’s ready!”
You and Jeonghan followed her, along with the rest of your extended family. The dining table, of course, wasn't nearly big enough for this many people, so the kids were more than happy to scatter to the living room where the TV held more importance than proper seating.
It was funny how easily you were getting along with Jeonghan. He didn’t seem intimidating when you first met him, but still, you didn’t expect to feel this comfortable around him so soon. This was only the third time you had seen him in person, and yet it felt like you had known him longer. Too long maybe, and too close too fast. You had learned your lesson the hard way. You try not to get attached to people anymore, or at least not easily or carelessly like you did before. And yet... here you were, telling yourself he was just a friend. A good one, sure—genuine, polite, naturally teasing in a way that didn't sting. Like just now, when he handled your relatives’ questions with ease. It made you wonder if he had rehearsed all this in front of a mirror.
They were asking him how you two had met, or, to rephrase it correctly—how he had met the love of his life, as one particularly nosy aunt put it. He was smooth with his answers though, like he had been back at the café when he first met your parents. His voice was calm, a smile curved so sincere, and in some way, every word he said sounded real like it actually had happened. You blinked, trying to hold onto the moment, because truth be told, nothing like what he was saying ever had happened with Minho; not even close. That boy never even tried, and still, despite all the pain he had left you with, despite the way he did you dirty and walked away without a shred of guilt, he still lived rent-free in the back of your mind.
You glanced back at Jeonghan, now answering what he did for a living and why he never had appeared by your side before. His words were golden, the kind that had your relatives gushing and giggling. Words that belonged in fairy tales. But he was no prince, and those stories didn't exist in real life.
You sighed, picking at the little pile of broccoli on the edge of your plate. You hated broccoli. No matter how it was cooked, it tasted so bitter, bitter like betrayal. But you ate it anyway because your mom would scold you if you didn't. So you pushed through, chewing your fourth and final piece like a true soldier that you were. What you did love, however, was carrots. Carrots were divine. And apparently, Jeonghan had taken notice of that.
Just as you were about to take another bite, two sets of chopsticks appeared over your rice bowl at the exact same time, both holding out perfectly cooked carrot slices. You paused, blinking, your eyes following the utensils back to their owners. Your dad. And Jeonghan.
Smiling, you glanced at your father first, but he wasn't looking at you. He was looking at Jeonghan—with a raised brow and that intimidating dad stares only fathers like yours could master. You shifted your eyes to Jeonghan next. He met your gaze, smiled still gently as ever, and dropped the carrot into your bowl before lowering his chopsticks. He didn't even flinch under your dad’s stare. Your father held his gaze for another second, then, wordlessly, added his carrot to your bowl too.
Shy and oddly happy, you pulled your rice bowl closer to your face, half hiding behind it, trying to focus on eating so no one saw your flustered expression. The table erupted into hushed chuckles including your mom, because she couldn't help herself but to throw marriage blessings your way. People nodded and laughed, and soon everyone shifted focus back to their food, making sure neither you nor Jeonghan felt awkward.
But in the middle of it all, there was one thing no one noticed.
The small, soft smile curved at the corner of your father’s lips. Because no matter how much of a threat Jeonghan might have seemed in this little game of hearts, to your father—you had always been his little queen.
-
After dinner, everyone began clearing the table, piling dishes into the sink. Thankfully, dishwashing duties didn't fall under your job description in this house. You were technically a guest too, at least that was the excuse you clung to as you quietly tiptoed away from the mess.
You glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight.
That was when it hit you, you hadn't seen Jeonghan in a while, and worse, you hadn't even offered to walk him out yet. The man probably had sacrificed his peaceful night’s sleep just to show up at your family gathering and play pretend boyfriend. The least you could do was make sure he got home safe and as early as possible… or at least wasn't cornered by another round of interrogation.
You wandered through the halls, gently pushing open doors until you found him sitting cross-legged on the floor of the guest room, now completely claimed by your little cousins and their stuffed animals. You blinked, quietly leaning against the doorframe. He looked oddly at peace there, in a room filled with cartoon blankets and sticky fingers.
One of your younger cousins was enthusiastically chatting with him. “So my birthday is next month!” the little boy said, eyes bright. “You have to come, okay?”
Seriously, how does he do that? Kids, moms… even aunties? God. It’s actually scary how easy it is to like him, you wondered. Jeonghan gave him a soft smile, but you could read the hesitation on his face. He was trying to be polite, trying to find a way to decline without crushing tiny dreams. “That sounds fun,” he said slowly, “but I might need to check with—”
Before he could finish, your cousin cut in with an easy solution. “You can just come with Y/N! You’re her boyfriend, duh. You have to come!”
Jeonghan chuckled softly, but before he could respond, you stepped in from the door and cleared your throat. “Alright, birthday boss,” you said with a playful smile. “Jeonghan’s going to be super busy that day, okay? You’ll have to deal with just me.”
Your cousin looked disappointed for a beat before shrugging with a sigh, “Fine… but please at least don't annoy me that day ”
“Deal,” you said, laughing, as you gestured for Jeonghan to follow you out.
He rose, and followed you through the hallway. You led him around the corner of the house, to the narrow balcony space near the laundry room, just private enough without being suspicious.
He quirked an eyebrow at you that resulted in you giving him a dry look. “What?”
“You really won’t let me come to his birthday?” he queried, lips tilting with amused defiance. “I’ll clear my schedule for the kiddo if that’s what it takes to make my pretend girlfriend’s family happy.”
“You looked uncomfortable. I thought you’d want an easy out.”
“I was uncomfortable because I didn’t know if you were okay with me going,” he said honestly, voice softer. “But if you are, I want to come. It’s not a bother.”
Caught slightly off guard, you tried to blink it away, “I’ll… think about it,” you murmured
“Fair,” he said, leaning against the wall. “So, what’d you really pull me aside for?”
“Oh, I was just gonna tell you to head out before someone tried to chain you to the dining table with dessert.” He snorted, and you glanced at him again, your voice dropping more to the soft range. “Thanks for coming, though. I’m sorry I called last minute and dragged you into this. You were probably asleep, weren’t you?”
“About to be,” he admitted with a laugh. “But it’s okay. I told you, didn’t I? If you ever need saving, just say the word.”
You didn't respond right away, instead you just smiled before whispering, “Let me walk you out.”
He nodded, and turned to walk toward the front door, but just as he was about to reach for the handle, he paused and glanced back. “Where are your parents?” he asked, almost like he just realized he should say goodbye properly.
You tilted your head, scanning the hallway. “They’re probably… somewhere.”
He didn't take your vague answer, though, so he disappeared back down the hall, and a minute later, you heard familiar voices of your mom’s tone and your dad’s low chuckle and then, Jeonghan’s goodbye. Your aunt insisted he stay the night, even offering him an extra toothbrush and spare pajama set, but Jeonghan politely declined, because of course, he knew what was appropriate and what was not.
Still, your mom told him to come by their house sometime, which also happened to be your living space too. He promised he would, and then finally, walked back to the front door where you were waiting for him.
You caught his eyes one last time and bid, “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”
He gave you a little salute as he walked out of the door. “Goodnight.”
You watched as he stepped outside into the quiet of the night, and then you closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Three
Day 8 of 100
You had hoped this would be your winning year. You had landed the job you had always dreamed of, and now, there was a business trip to Italy; something you had kept on your vision board for years. It felt like everything was aligning at last, but luck never played fair. You had misunderstood the timeline because you had thought the trip would be next month. Turns out, it was this week—right on your mother's 45th birthday.
The company was sponsoring everything—flights, accommodations, even the visa. In return, you and your team would be working on a high-level project that could redefine your career portfolio. It was an opportunity you’ve only dreamed of, and yet, here you were, sitting in front of your laptop with the screen glowing in your dim room, torn between the offer and a woman who meant the world to you. You had been planning her birthday for so long. You had wanted this year to be extravagant, joyful, and different. She had always put everyone else first, and this time, you had wanted her to feel like the star of the world.
Your heart ached. Of course, your mother’s happiness was more important than any job title, any overseas project. You were already drafting a polite email to decline the offer when a soft knock tapped on your door.
She entered, holding a glass of milk, wearing that same smile that always reached you before her words did. "I got the mail from your company earlier," she said, sitting on the edge of your bed. "I opened it by mistake, but... I know it's about your trip to Italy." You stayed quiet, already knowing where this was headed. “I know you’re worried about my birthday,” she continued, offering the glass to you. “But listen to me. This trip is important. You’ve worked so hard for this moment, so don’t let it go just because you want to buy me a cake and hang some balloons.”
“Mom, it’s not just a cake and balloons. I wanted to do something big this year. You deserve that,” you whispered.
“Sweetheart, I don’t need big. I just need to know you’re happy and that you’re doing what you love. That’s enough of a gift for me.” You lowered your gaze, hands wrapped around the warm glass. “Go to Italy,” she said firmly. “Prioritize your future. You can celebrate with me next year, or the year after. But right now, it’s your time.”
You nodded, giving up. “Okay… I’ll go.”
She kissed your forehead, a gesture that still made you feel like a child wrapped in safety. And as she left, you sat back, gulping the milk, your heart swelling.
You would always count your stars that she had chosen to be yours, that she was the one you got to call, Mom. Your life had been stitched with love since the moment you were born, her heartbeat syncing with yours. Everything you were, and everything you would become, was because of her, and because of them; your parents. For their love, their sacrifices, their endless belief in your dreams. You were you… because of them.
Just as you were lost in that warm pool of gratitude, your mother broke the silence again. “So… is Celeste going with you?”
You shook your head slightly, “no, she’s not. She’s already involved in another project. It’ll probably just be me and a few others from the team.”
Your mother hummed, nodding. “And… does Jeonghan know?”
You let out a light exhale. “Not yet. I’ll tell him once it’s finalized.”
There was a moment of pause before she spoke again. “You know,” she began with a familiar lilt, “Jeonghan… I really like him. He’s the best boyfriend you’ve had so far. It’s a mother’s instinct.” She chuckled at her own words like she always did when she said something she believed was completely obvious.
You blinked, looking at her, lips parting with a small smile. There was a wave of relief washing over you, because who knew the random name you nervously muttered would actually turn out to be attached to someone like Jeonghan who was decent, polite, respectful. Not a creep. “Yeah,” you muttered, glancing down. “He’s… nice.”
You knew your mother was right, because every boyfriend you had, you ended up walking away from for one reason or another. But when it came to Minho, your parents were obsessively against the relationship, and still, you didn’t care. You didn’t listen. You were too blinded by a love that you now knew was never truly mutual.
Minho was the only man you genuinely, wholeheartedly fell in love with. You dared admit—no one else ever came close. You loved him in a way that scared you, you loved him in a way that consumed you, and yet… he made you so sad.
He was a fucking terrible person, and yet, you loved him more than anyone deserved to be loved if they were going to treat someone the way he treated you. You remembered the nights he left your messages on read, the way he made you feel like your needs were too much, like your softness was some kind of burden he had to bear. You remembered holding your breath during phone calls, hoping today he wouldn’t be in one of his moods, laced with that mockery he always passed off as jokes.
He didn’t scream or break things, but he broke you in pieces so small you didn’t even notice at first. Little digs at your work, guilt-tripping you for being emotional, never showing up when it actually mattered—when you were sick, when your dad was hospitalized, when you cried and said I really need you right now. And he didn’t come. You were fucking dying inside and he didn’t show up. You still remembered how small you felt clutching your phone, praying he would text, but he didn’t. And when he finally did, it was something so simple like, Did you eat? Like he hadn’t gone missing for days, like he didn’t just leave you all alone to drown in pain that he had promised to be there for.
You knew you deserved better, but you didn’t want better. You wanted him to be better. And that was your downfall, because you held onto hope, onto potential, onto memories from the beginning, when he was kind and sweet and said things like I’ve never met anyone like you. But all of that turned to dust the moment you looked closely. He won you over with his words, but it was his actions that made you walk away.
Your parents begged you to let go. Your friends tried to shake some sense into you, but love didn't always listen to reason, and you… you were stupid in love. And now, looking back, the part that hurt most was how long you stayed naive, how long you let him stay in your life, how long you made excuses for him when he didn’t deserve a single one. You hated him, but you hated yourself more for loving him.
Snapping you back, your mother took the empty glass from your hands as she stood up. “Get some sleep, okay?”
You nodded, offering a ‘Goodnight’ before she walked out and closed the door behind her.
Without even glancing back at your laptop or your skincare shelf, you pushed yourself off the bed, trudged into the bathroom, brushed your teeth half-asleep, and threw yourself onto the mattress as soon as you were done.
-
Your manager in charge was a certified piece of shit. There was no other way to put it. He had been dumping a mountain of unnecessary workload on you for the last three days, which was an obvious attempt to wear you down before the Italy project even began. You know his type; a man who thought women were only good for pretty presentations and coffee runs. It was disgusting. It got under your skin in ways you couldn't even articulate without gritting your teeth.
Right then, he was yelling, loud and pointless. Screaming at you for things that weren't even part of your damn job description—the audacity. Beside you stood Celeste and Seungkwan, both fuming in silence. Their fists were clenched so tightly, you were convinced their fingernails were permanently embedded into their palms. From the corner of your eye, you could see them both with their heads lowered, trying not to explode, but you knew them. If it weren’t for their upcoming promotions hanging in the balance, Seungkwan would’ve already flattened that pitiful nose into something even more pathetic, and Celeste would've kicked him where the sun didn't shine. God bless their restraint. If what they had worked so hard for wasn't hanging by a thread, they would've already thrown hands right there, right then, in front of HR, God, and everyone, and they wouldn’t even have regretted it. They would've walked to the police station whistling.
Just when you thought the day couldn't get any more heated, the CEO walked in. Mrs. Kim. Your boss’s boss. The actual authority in the building; a woman. The very species your manager seemed to despise with his whole shriveled heart, and maybe that was why he was divorced and hadn't gotten laid since forever.
She walked in, looked at the three of you, then her eyes moved to the manager. “What’s going on here?”
Before any of you could speak, he jumped in, sugarcoating everything, and hearing his version of events, how he was ‘just trying to guide his team to success’ made all three of you visibly nauseous.
Seungkwan was the first to speak, voice sweet as syrup but sharp as a knife. “Oh, yes, we're definitely being guided.”
That statement with that tone, made the CEO raise a brow. Celeste didn't wait, she stepped in calmly and confidently. “We understand deadlines, but lately the amount of off-task work being pushed onto us has started affecting the actual projects we’re assigned to. It’s just becoming difficult to prioritize what’s actually important.” She didn't whine or plead, she simply spoke facts with clarity and class.
Mrs. Kim turned to the manager, “why are they doing extra work that doesn’t align with their primary responsibilities? These three are handling a high-level project—one that has international visibility. I expect their full energy to be focused on that.” The manager sputtered, trying to defend himself, but Mrs. Kim shut it down gracefully, yet firmly. “Respect your team. Don’t misuse their time because you misunderstand their value. Let this be the last conversation we have about this.”
A girl’s girl, through and through. A CEO who got it, and as she walked away, Seungkwan muttered under his breath, “I’d die for her.” You didn't even have the strength to laugh, because you were too busy mentally high-fiving her in your head.
Your manager in charge still didn't look remotely ashamed, just let out an ignorant sigh and shooed the three of you away like he was the victim, but whatever, you were too tired to deal with male mediocrity right then, so you just complied.
On the way back to your desks, Seungkwan leaned closer and threw a “Lunch date?” your way. It was actually pretty normal and nothing new. Platonic lunch dates were kind of your and Seungkwan's thing—matching eye rolls and stealing each other’s fries. Celeste might have been your closest cousin, and your ride-or-die since childhood, but Seungkwan was your bestie, your lunch break soulmate, the lawless good to your tired neutral. Who said you needed only one close person when life handed you more than one decent human being?
You nodded at his offer and plopped back into your seat, immediately drawn to the growing pile of papers on your desk, the ones about the Italy trip and your high-profile project. You uncapped your signature green pen [because black and blue are for amateurs] and started scribbling notes. Mid-marking, your phone buzzed, and without thinking, you assumed it was your mom because who else would it have been at that hour aside from Celeste or Seungkwan—and they were right there, but no, it wasn't your mom. It was Jeonghan.
He was asking if you were free for lunch. You glanced at Seungkwan, who was already halfway through planning his order in his head, you texted back.

You smiled. Sipped the lukewarm coffee from your desk, and went back to highlighting your to-do list.
-
Seungkwan scanned the menu and orders a burger that was apparently ‘new and calling his name’. He recommended the same one to you, so you checked the picture on the menu and yeah, you weren't not gonna lie, it did look scrumptious.
He immediately started ranting about how he was on a diet and how Vernon didn't diet with him, and how that clearly meant Vernon didn't love him enough.
You laughed right in his face. “Vernon doesn’t need to starve himself to prove he loves you, babe.”
Seungkwan glared but sulked in silence, grumbling about how he was probably just in ‘male menstruation mode.’
You took a bite of your burger—he wasn’t wrong, it was divine. But before you could get too far, Seungkwan nearly spat out his iced americano as something suddenly went through his head, “Okay, so Celeste told me you have a boyfriend now? Since WHEN? You literally said, and I quote, ���I’m done with love.’ Like, girl, what?!”
You gave him a look and shrugged. “You should know better than to believe Celeste with her three and a half brain cells.”
But the truth was, you did say that. Two years ago, drunk off your ass, crying over an asshole, bawling into Celeste’s shoulder, snot and all, swearing off love because it was a contagious disease, and you meant every single thing back then. Part of you still did, you didn't believe love was for you.
You sighed and finally explained what really happened; how Jeonghan became your boyfriend. Fake boyfriend to be, and how Jeonghan, saint that he was, actually agreed to play along.
Seungkwan stared at you for a solid five seconds, then: “Girl… I want to judge you, but I’m weirdly impressed.”
You just groaned and plopped back in your chair, sipping the last of your watered-down coffee.
He then asked if you were going to the team building party that week. “Obviously,” you said, “you think I’d miss out on free food and gossip?” He snorted, satisfied with your, you kinda answer, and the two of you finished up lunch before heading back to the office.
You buried yourself in paperwork, prepping everything for the Italy trip. Your green pen glided across the documents—marking the hotel addresses, underlining budget breakdowns, drawing tiny stars next to notes. You were so into the zone that you didn't notice when your work chat pinged. It was from the front desk. The CEO wanted to see you.
You low-key froze because that was a big deal. It wasn't not everyday the CEO called you up, and while she wasn't the biting-heads-off type, it was still nerve-wracking.
You climbed the stairs—the elevators were reserved for upper management at that time of the day. Classism at its finest. You rolled your eyes, like, please, how much money was the company really saving by keeping one elevator out of use? It was giving ‘penny-pinching villain arc’.
Finally, you reached her office, knocked politely, and heard a warm, come in.
You entered, instantly wrapped in that elegant aura Mrs. Kim always carried. She was poised, sharp, and always smelled like fresh roses and justice; a woman you wanted to write poems about. She smiled. “Have a seat.” You did—respectfully, obediently. She was the boss for a reason.
You’d always admired her, but not just for her presence, but for how she consistently sided with the employees whenever an overzealous senior acted out of line, e.g. like that morning. She knew you by face, name, and the quality of your work, though your interactions had mostly been limited to the occasional office circus or passing greetings in the hallway.
She started, “I know you’ve been reviewing the design documentation for the Italy project,” and you nodded. You updated her on what you’d done so far: layout revisions, material specs, budget adjustments—everything. She nodded along, then sighed lightly. “I’m sorry to throw this at you, but I wanted to speak to you directly. There’s a new assignment,” she paused before continuing again. “I know it’s not what you signed up for right now,” she said, “but a very important client specifically requested you for a new project. He saw your portfolio and won’t take no for an answer.” She continued, “It’s a bar. Both interior and exterior design. He wants it done by you, and only you.”
Men and their obsession with being picky, you muttered in your head.
“But,” she added, “you won’t have to start until after the Italy trip. The schedule is flexible, the budget is very accommodating… and he’s paying double your usual fee.”
Now that caught your attention. “Okay,” you said slowly, “I’ll happily consider it once I check the brief and make sure I’m actually capable of delivering what he wants. I’ll speak to my manager—”
She stopped you there. “Actually, no. You won’t need to discuss it with him. It’s already been approved. The details will be sent once you return from Italy.”
Huh? You nodded, but your brain was half-screaming. This sounded a little too good to be true; great pay, great flexibility, total creative freedom—but no option to say no, and no brief until you’re back? Yeah. Red flag. He might have been rich, but he was still giving mild bastard energy. Still, you nodded again. “Understood.”
You thanked her, left the room, and walked back to your desk. At least the pay was great, all was well for now.
Day 10 of 100
You were wearing a silk ivory blouse with a subtle sweetheart neckline, tucked into high-waisted slate-grey tailored trousers that hugged your waist just right. Over that, a light beige trench coat draped you, the sleeves slightly pushed up to show off your simple silver bracelet. You had paired the outfit with pointed-toe nude heels, pearl stud earrings, and your hair was done in a half-up loose twist, soft waves cascading down your back. You were so glad you had worn something put together that day. After successfully convincing Seungkwan to switch your lunch date with Celeste instead, with the promise of paying for dessert next time, you headed out of the office with a slight skip in your step. You strolled down the pavement, one hand in your coat pocket, the other holding your phone with Jeonghan’s pinned location glowing on the screen. You finally arrived, stopped and gaped.
The restaurant in front of you was stunning. Soft cream stonework, vines grew over the edges of a wooden pergola, delicate white drapes danced with the wind. There was outdoor seating bathed in golden sunlight; the whole vibe screamed expensive, and summer-soft.
You were too caught up in soaking in the place to notice footsteps approaching, until a voice leaned over your right shoulder. “You like it?”
You jolted and instinctively, you stepped back and pivoted to your left, hand brushed against the edge of your coat as you turned to face the source of the surprise. “Jesus, you scared me!” you half-laughed, pressing a hand to your chest as you exhaled.
Jeonghan, in a light blue linen shirt tucked into beige trousers, grinned down at you. “Sorry,” he chuckled, “wasn’t trying to scare you.”
The sunlight kissed your cheekbones as you smiled, a little breathless from the jump scare. But Jeonghan, he went completely still. His smile faded, but not in a bad way, but in a speechless kind of awe. His gaze softened, eyes lingering on you, trying to memorize every detail: your earrings catching light, how your blouse moved with the breeze, the way you’re smiling not even knowing what you were doing to him.
You waved your hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Jeonghan? Are you good?”
He cleared his throat, finally snapping out of whatever trance he had been in. “Right—yeah. Sorry. You just…” He scratched the back of his neck, then held out a bouquet wrapped in rustic white paper—pale pink roses and sprigs of baby’s breath peeking out. “…You look beautiful.”
You took the flowers, smiled, but not bashful or not giddy, just unfazed; you refused to let any man, no matter how sweet or charming or kind-eyed, have that kind of effect on you again. You had spent too long rebuilding yourself, too long sealing every crack Minho had left behind, and you were not about to let someone slip through them again just because he smelled good and brought you flowers. So you didn't blush anymore, there was no blush creeping up your cheeks but your ears betrayed you. The tips of your ears were red as fuck.
Jeonghan led you to one of the umbrella-covered tables nestled beneath the sunlight, which filtered just enough to feel warm, not harsh. The breeze was soft, carrying the scent of fresh herbs and baked bread. It felt really like a European afternoon even though it was just noon here, but you let yourself enjoy it.
He pulled your chair out like a proper gentleman, and for a second, your breath caught but because of the wrong reason; your ex used to do that too. But you shook the thought off. This wasn't Minho, not everything needed to circle back to him. This is just a nice gesture, you told yourself. A decent man doing a decent thing.
You settled in. Jeonghan smiled and gestured toward the menu. “Order what you want,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, watching you with the smile he always seemed to carry.
When the waiter came, you ordered with a small smile, “Can I get the smoked salmon sandwich with scrambled eggs, and a vanilla iced latte?”
The waiter nodded and Jeonghan chimed in, “Same for me. And can you add a basket of your warm mini scones too? Thanks.”
Your gaze shifted to him, taking him in again. He was dressed well. It wasn't a suit, but it was still effortlessly stylish. Still, you couldn't help but chuckle internally—he ran a café chain, you had expected suits and ties like a K-drama CEO 24/7 but everytime you saw him, his aura was of a human, of a nice man.
The silence settled in as the waiter walked away, and it was kinda awkward. Not bad, just not easy either. You fidgeted slightly with your napkin and broke the silence, “By the way, I forgot to thank you the other day at my aunt’s place… thanks for sending lunch to my office. That was really sweet.”
Jeonghan tilted his head, brushing it off with a soft chuckle. “It’s no big deal. Like I said… I’m wooing you, remember? That means I’ll do things like that. You’re my love interest now.” He said it with a teasing smile, but the sincerity didn't go unnoticed.
You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure how to respond for a second. “I mean… you can do whatever you want,” you murmured, eyes going to the complimentary glass of water. “It’s just—like I said before, my heart’s kinda… closed. I’m not really looking for anything, so… I don’t want you to be disappointed if I don’t change my mind.”
He nodded. “I get that. But I said I’d try. We made a deal, and I still have… what, 90 days?” he grinned. “Just let me do what I want. No pressure.”
You nodded again, this time shyer. “Okay…”
Another short silence followed, but Jeonghan filled it with a question. “So how’s work been?”
“Oh, I’m heading to Italy for a project. It’s sort of a business trip but I’m hoping I can sneak in some vacation time.”
His eyebrows raised slightly, impressed. “ Italy? Fancy.”
You nodded, stirring your straw. “Yeah. I’m excited but… I was supposed to celebrate my mom’s birthday this week with her. And now I won’t be here, which sucks.” You looked at him hesitantly. “Would you mind… joining a video call with her? Just to wish her a happy birthday with me. She really likes you and it’d make her smile.”
Jeonghan didn't even hesitate for a second. “Of course, and you don’t need to ask if I’d like to do something for you,” resting his elbows on the table, he leaned slightly forward. “The answer will always be yes. So don’t think twice. Just tell me.”
That might have been the nicest thing anyone’s said to you in a while. The waiter returned with your food, placing the plates in front of you. The sandwiches were golden and buttery, eggs perfectly soft. The smell alone made you sigh.
Jeonghan clasped his hands. “Let’s dig in, shall we?”
After brunch, Jeonghan insisted on giving you a ride back to the office. His car, already parked earlier before he stepped into the restaurant, sat sleek and waiting. You remembered how he'd found you standing there, mouth parted in awe at the view of the restaurant—now it made sense, he’d arrived early whereas you walked there. He drove a black Audi A8 L, and everything about it, from the glossy sheen to the whisper-quiet engine, spoke of understated luxury. Being the owner of chains, you always assumed he was very well-off, but after sitting in his leather-wrapped cabin, there was no doubt—he was rich rich. Not just wealthy, but smelled polished and wealthy too.
The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He talked to you about small things, light things. He mentioned how he wanted to do more for you, soon, once a little more time had passed.
You were a woman of few words, and he respected that. You didn't say much, but you were already... comfortable. Being around him felt like sunlight through a window, warm and golden; wrapped in a blanket still carrying the warmth and scent of the sun on a winter morning.
Back at the office, time passed like pages fluttering in a breeze, and soon, it was almost time to leave for the evening’s team building party. You had missed the last one because of a fever, but that night, you were ready. Those nights, especially with Celeste and Seungkwan by your side, always promised laughter and fun. They were the most fun people to be around at parties.
-
Your body reacted before your mind caught up, and you moved back, a step, maybe two. The closer this man came, the more your instincts coiled tightly within. A breath's space became half a step, then a full one. Your fingers curled tightly around your purse strap, your throat drying with each beat of the music thudding like a war drum in your chest. You were disgusted to say the least.
Celeste had vanished into the crowd, tipsy and gleeful, her laughter now a memory swallowed by bass and bodies. Seungkwan was in the restroom, and you whispered silent prayers into the air. Please come back. Now. Please. But instead, he came closer.
His breath reeked of alcohol and something sourer; bitterness, maybe. The look in his eyes was familiar, kind of that once stripped you of peace. "You look good," he sneered, lips twisted, voice drenched in mockery.
You felt it then: rage, disgust, and fear rising from the pit of your stomach. "Shut the fuck up," you stepped back again. "Don’t touch me."
He ignored it like he always did. His feet shuffled closer, lazily. Your back brushed against a counter. You were running out of space. “I’ve been thinking about us,” he slurred. “We can fix this. You know we can.”
You almost laughed, but your voice trembled like a blade. “You broke everything. You ruined me. You fucking hollowed me out and smiled about it.” Still no tears spilled, they hung in your eyes.
He tilted his head mockingly. “Still dramatic, I see.”
“I was miserable with you.” Each of your words was a stone hurled. “You gaslit me, degraded me, manipulated every breath I took and still had the gall to call it love.” Your voice rose the more you speak. “You were a fucking asshole. Are a fucking asshole.”
That was when his expression shifted, something flashed in his eyes; violence barely contained, he moved faster. With a growl, he swooped in, his arm slamming against yours, pinning it down to the counter behind you. The marble was cold beneath your skin. His hand caged your wrist. You're leaned back, your spine arching slightly, nowhere to run. His body hovered far too close, and that was when the tears began to spill.
He leaned in until his breath warmed your cheek. “Those words… they don’t suit your pretty little mouth,” he whispered with a sneer. Then, his fingers gripped your face, cruelly and crudely, pressing your cheeks together, forcing your lips into a shape you didn't own. “Who is it, huh?” His voice was poison dipped in curiosity. “Who are you fucking now, since it’s not me?”
Your limbs shook but your spine stayed straight. Somewhere in the haze of lights and laughter, his friends—if you could call them that—stood at a distance, watching, and laughing. Your pain was once again, another kind of entertainment.
All you were hoping now was for someone in this sea of people, to be decent enough. Just one man with a spine, a conscience, something resembling a soul.
Or, God, let Celeste or Seungkwan find you. Because if they saw this… If they saw your trembling form pinned, tears running down your cheeks, your lips being forced into a shape not your own; hell wouldn’t just break loose, it would bleed.
Celeste would have turned into a beast, rage that ripped through bone and skin with heels sharp enough to slice throats and a fury only a woman can wield after watching her sister break. She’d scream murder, tear at his face like it was paper, her nails dragging blood down his cheek, down his pride. She’d laugh while doing it, vengeful and beautiful.
And Seungkwan—he’d see red, nothing but red. He wouldn’t stop until someone dragged him off, until every punch left a mark, until the bastard begged on his knees with his face bloated and black. He’d spit down on him.You touch her again, and I’ll break every single one of your fingers until you forget how to be a man.
But they weren't here.
Just as he was about to forcefully kiss you while your head was twisting away but his hand trying to clamp your jaw still, trying to oppress you to submit; he’s suddenly gone.
Pushed hard, a weight crashed against the floor with a hollow thud. Your breath caught, chest was rising and falling in erratic jolts. You barely registered what had happened, but then, your eyes met his. That face etched in concern, eyes gentle for a moment until they flicked down to the filth on the floor. Then they shifted to rage again; controlled.
The man on the ground groaned, his ego bruised deeper than his spine, tried to get up, but he crouched beside him with chilling ease. Fingers reached out and plucked the name tag pinned to the bastard’s chest. “Park Minho,” he murmured like a curse.
Minho snarled. “Who the fuck are you to mess with me?” His fist launched but his hand moved faster, catching it mid-air, holding it steady, not violently but commandingly.
“Jeonghan. Her boyfriend.”
Minho lunged again, but this time, Jeonghan didn't flinch. He just moved, twisting enough to let the man’s weight tip himself off balance, and that’s when the owner rushed in. The music cut off, lights flashed red and blue outside the sheer window. Police.
“Mr. Yoon, I’m so sorry,” the bar owner panted, glancing between Jeonghan and the wreck on the floor. “I had no idea he would—he’s fired. He’s done. He’ll never work here again.” Two officers grabbed Minho by the arms, he thrashed, cursed, but it was over.
You didn't even realize your legs had given out earlier, until Jeonghan was kneeling before you. You were on the floor, knees scraped, mascara streaked, eyes wide and blank. He said nothing at first, just held your arms gently. He picked you up, but your head fell on his shoulder. Then you started shaking. Sobs erupted, no longer contained. You clutched at his shirt, trembling, your soul was trying to crawl out of your body.
Jeonghan pulled you closer, one hand on the back of your head, the other around your back. He rocked you gently, a murmur at your ear. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” His voice was low, raw, not above a whisper. “I’ll always protect you. No one will ever lay a finger on you again.” He kissed the side of your head, his breath trembling along yours, too. “If anyone dares touch you again—if anyone dares hurt you—I’ll bury them myself. I don’t care if my hands get bloody. I will end them for you.”
You didn't answer, not because you couldn't, but because words felt too fragile to carry the weight of what just happened and what he said. The lights spun like distant planets and the crowd hummed around you, oblivious and indifferent. He was achingly kind, his shoulder was there, warm, a borrowed sanctuary in the aftermath. You were grateful, but you didn't want to be seen by anyone like this right now. Your voice was small, trembling only at the edges. “I want to be alone… I don’t want to see you right now. But… thank you.” You didn't meet his eyes.
Everything had happened in the span of ten minutes, but to you, it felt like ten years; slow, stretched, jagged. Time warped cruelly in the dark, by then the din had drawn others. You heard them before you saw them—your coworkers murmuring, shifting, clustering like confused birds after a storm, and then, Celeste appeared.
Disheveled, tipsy, and horrified, she rushed forward and dropped to the ground beside you, wrapping you in the scent of vanilla and liquor and the desperate ache of guilt. Her arms pulled you away from him and into the safety of her embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered over and over, stroking your hair like you were a breakable glass. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have disappeared.”
Jeonghan, who was silent and observant, took a step back. He didn't fight your decision. He just watched from a respectful distance, assessing the new guardian that had taken his place. Her eyes were glassy, and even in her inebriated haze, she was more present than most sober men here ever were. “Is there someone I can trust,” Jeonghan asked the crowd, scanning, “to take both of them home?”
A voice rose from the group, mostly from her coworkers that had been present at the party. “Seungkwan. He didn’t drink, so he’s probably the best to—”
Jeonghan was already walking toward the assumed coworker. “Who is Seungkwan?” he asked, tone neutral but outlined with the protectiveness of a man who didn't want to hand over what he’d just protected, to a stranger. And as if conjured by name, he arrived.
His knees hit the ground the moment he saw you slumped against Celeste. His hands trembled as he reached out, stopping himself just before touching you, as if your pain might be contagious. He looked at you, then at Celeste, then at the space around, putting the pieces together without a single word being spoken. His expression hardened into pure fury concealed beneath tight control. “What the fuck happened here?!” His voice cracked through the air. “Tell me who the hell did this. Tell me, and I swear on every grave beneath this city—I will tear him apart with my own hands.” His fists curled. “I’ll fucking gut that bastard and bury what’s left. You think I won’t? You think I can’t? I’ll make it look like an accident and sleep just fine at night.”
Celeste flinched but reached out a hand to him, still cradling you. “Kwan… please. Just wait.”
But Jeonghan had seen enough of this, so he stepped forward in careful assessment. He laid a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder. Seungkwan’s gaze dropped to the hand as if it was an insult. He didn't look up for three full seconds. He was waiting for a response from Jeonghan, and Jeonghan spoke before that moment died. “Do you have a girlfriend? Or do you like either of them?”
The question felt abrupt, even intrusive, but Jeonghan knew better than to let two emotionally unstable women be left in the care of someone who might have had complicated feelings for them. It wasn't a call to be made lightly, and certainly not one a level-headed man like him would ignore.
Seungkwan’s eyes flashed from the implication, his jaw locked, blood rising to his eyes, but before the storm erupted—“This is Jeonghan,” Celeste cut in hoarsely. “And Seungkwan has a boyfriend.”
There was a pause, then a shared oh between the two men; mutual clarity, and just like that, Jeonghan stepped away, surrendering you both into the care of someone he now deemed safe.
Celeste informed, “I called Joshua. He’s on his way to pick us up.”
Jeonghan nodded once, eyes on you. You still hadn't looked at him since, and he doesn't press for more. You had asked not to see him, and he honoured it, and walked away for now.
Something in you broke tonight, and something in him awakened.

⌦ 🥕 © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. thank you for reading—your reblog means everything. until we meet again, stay cozy and keep dreaming! ◜ᴗ◝
#svthub#svt100collab#yoon jeonghan x reader#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan x y/n#yoon jeonghan imagines#seventeen yoon jeonghan#jeonghan fic#seventeen jeonghan#jeonghan seventeen#seventeen joshua#joshua x reader#jeonghan angst#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#jeonghan svt#seventeen series#seventeen imagines#yoon jeonghan#jeonghan smau#seventeen smau#seventeen#seventeen scenarios#joshua seventeen#★— mylovesstuffs#★— mylovesstuffs twenty twenty five
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Please help an unemployed brown mixed disabled trans person sustain their family + help their parents leave venezuela
Hello tumblr dot com users! I'm Ren, a trans and disabled venezuelan trying to get back into art. And as of the 1st of nov 2024 I'm officially unemployed and really, really broke 🥲


If you want a more extended version of our situation you can reffer to my last post thread from months ago, I decided to finally create this one as an updated version.
Summarizing and updating extremely quickly what has happened this last time: The humanitarian Parole is no longer available, The Darien has become way more dangerous and inaccesible to cross and the Panama goverment is going to get toughter, considering this is a mostly usamerican site I hope I don't have to mention what happened this month over there, and obviously there's certainty shit isn't going to get any better from this point onwards. Things have changed so much that my mother started considering emigrating to Spain.
As some of the people close to me know, I really dislike being in the necessity of e-begging without at least offering something in return to people helping me because I don't feel ok doing so otherwise. That's why in this post I have several avenues to help me depending on what anyone might preffer.
Our current plan is to keep saving as much as we can while we wait and hope for a relative of my father to present a Family Reunification TPS while there is still chance, if neither of those don't work or something happens, we'll help either him or my mother go to Spain instead. We are definitively not giving up, but that doesn't mean things didn't get harder.
❗Some of the most urgent needs we're currently trying to cover:
7-12$ Bug poison. We have an extreme problem of cockroach infestation
20-25$ Rispheridona resupply
10-15$ Glasses reparation
6-10$ Shower reparation
+30$ Mother's car revision
+20$ By-Weekly groceries
+15$ General Medicines
You can make as little as a 1 USD donation by simply buying a high quality piece I've done recently!
I'm also currently still offering extremely cheap comms for little chibi doodles like the ones in the pics below!!

Either way. If you can't of don't wish to donate or commission. Please know that just by sharing this around as much as possible is enough to help. Thank you <3
ppal
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#mutual aid#Transgender#emergancy commissions#trans mutual aid#fundraiser#signal boost#signal b00st#donations#physically disabled#chronic fatigue and depression induced withdrawal is killing me at any moment#autism#disabled mutual aid#poc mutual aid#commission#commissions open#art commisions#emergency funds#financial aid#Support#Important#help post#ren.txt
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Practice Makes Imperfect (Pt. One)

A perfectionist ballerina struggles to find her rhythm-not just in her mandatory hip hop class, but in life itself. When she turns to Hoshi, a laid back hip hop major, he helps her see there is more to life than just structure and control.
→ part two coming soon
pairing: college au! kwon soonyoung x ballerina f!reader
word count: 2.1k
content warnings: slowish burn with eventual smut, internalized perfectionism, performance anxiety, academic and artistic burnout, emotional repression, subtle corruption kink, drugs and alcohol. MDNI
authors note: in no way do I think I'm a good writer. I wrote this a while ago just for self indulgence and decided to post it for fun, so please understand.
songs for this chapter:
- My Body Is a Cage by Arcade Fire
- Liquid Smooth by Mitski
You wake up before your alarm.
Not because you want to. You never want to. But because your body doesn’t know how not to obey the rules you’ve beaten into it. The light isn’t even up yet when your hand smacks the alarm off out of pure reflex. You’re already moving, already stretching your calves against the edge of your mattress like you’re warming up for war. In a way, you are.
You move through your morning like a machine. Hair in a bun. Breakfast by 6:00. Coffee black. Gym by 6:30. Run four miles. Stretch. Shower. Be on campus by 8:00 with enough time to revise yesterday’s math notes before your 9:00 a.m. class.
It’s exhausting, but it works. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.
You’re double majoring in Ballet and Mathematics. Most people can’t wrap their heads around it when you tell them. As if they’re opposite sides of the spectrum. But they’re not—not really. They both depend on precision. Repetition. Obedience. Structure. The ability to show your work and leave no room for interpretation.
People think ballet is art. Sometimes it is. But mostly, it’s numbers. It’s angles and physics and symmetry. It’s learning how to master your body so completely that it all becomes invisible to the audience. Seamless. Effortless. That’s the lie. That’s the goal.
You’ve been dancing since before you could spell your own last name. You don’t remember a version of yourself that wasn’t chasing perfection. That wasn’t stretching through injury, re-tying pointe shoes with shaking hands, staring into studio mirrors until your own reflection looked back at you like a stranger.
Everyone thinks you’re talented. What they don’t understand is that it’s not talent—it’s terror.
You don’t know how to be bad at something. You’ve never been allowed to be.
Your ballet instructor always said that if you have a backup plan, you’re already planning to fail. So you never told her about your math major. About the hours you spend calculating things no one will ever dance to. About the tiny voice in the back of your mind that keeps whispering: What if you don’t make it? What if all of this wasn’t enough?
You lug your backpack to every rehearsal even though everyone else just brings a water bottle and their shoes. But you can’t not bring it. You’d feel naked without it. Inside are your lecture notes, your meal plan, your backup charger, your vitamin C tablets, and three different highlighters. Control, contained in a zippered compartment.
There are no missed classes. No spontaneous nights out. No caffeine after 7 p.m. No social media during meals. Your calendar is color-coded and your playlists are sorted by tempo. You even schedule time to cry, though if it is a good day, you cancel.
It’s easier this way.
If you follow the rules, you won’t fall behind.
If you don’t fall behind, you won’t fail.
If you don’t fail, you won’t have to ask what happens next.
You’ll get the solo. You’ll join a company. You’ll make something of yourself before your body betrays you the way every ballerina’s body eventually does. That’s the plan. That has to be the plan.
There’s no room for error. No room for breaks. You’ve trained yourself out of both.
Because if you stop for even a second—everything might fall apart.
⸻
You’re not used to mirrors being this cruel.
In ballet, at least the reflection has grace. In hip hop, it just confirms what you already fear: you don’t belong here.
You’re not sure who thought it was a good idea to make Ballet majors take cross-disciplinary dance. Probably some sadistic department head who thinks exposure equals growth. Which is rich, considering all you’ve been exposed to this past hour is the fact that you move like a malfunctioning robot.
The music’s too loud. The mirrors are too honest. And your professor looks exhausted just watching you.
“Again,” she says, voice clipped.
You fall into the steps again—if you can call them that. Your limbs are tight, too calculated. You don’t bounce, don’t melt into the beat like the girl to your left does. You don’t ride the music, you choke it.
The routine ends. Everyone else is panting, laughing, high-fiving. You’re standing frozen in the mirror, jaw locked.
Your professor clears her throat. “You’re technically accurate. But there’s no flow. No rhythm. You’re… too stiff.”
The word lands like a slap.
Too stiff.
As if your body doesn’t understand what it’s being asked to do. As if discipline is a curse here instead of a gift.
You nod once, trying to swallow it down. You keep your face neutral, your spine straight. But something ugly starts crawling up your throat.
After class, you don’t talk to anyone. You shove your water bottle into your bag and speed-walk out of the studio before the tears can get any traction. It’s not even that you were the worst in the room—though maybe you were—it’s that for the first time in a long time, you felt exposed. Like the armor you’ve spent years building doesn’t work here.
⸻
You sneak back into the dance building by 10 that night before slipping into one of the vacant studios.
The lights are off, but you don’t bother turning them on. You need the quiet. The dark. The control. You shed your hoodie like muscle memory and begin putting on your pointe shoes, each movement clipped and clean. Your limbs are trembling, not from fatigue—but from something deeper. Something raw.
You throw yourself into the routine you’ve been rehearsing for months.
It’s a solo. Four minutes long. You’ve nailed it before—technique perfect, transitions seamless. But tonight, every step feels like a punishment. You slam into your fouettés too early. Miss your landing on the arabesque turn. There’s no audience, but your face flushes like there is.
You start over.
And again.
And again.
Each time harder. Tighter. You stretch until your legs scream. Force your body to obey until the pain pushes everything else out.
You dance until you can’t think.
You dance until the mirrors stop talking back.
You dance like perfection will undo the feeling of failure clawing at your chest.
Eventually, you collapse to the floor. Chest heaving. Eyes burning.
You tell yourself it’s just the sweat.
⸻
You weren’t planning to stay this late.
Your bones ached, your legs felt like jelly, and your calves had started screaming somewhere around the third hour. But you had a quiz the next morning and a ballet evaluation in two days, so your mind didn’t care how your body felt. You stayed. You always stayed.
It was a miracle you even remembered to eat.
Now, finally—finally—you were done. Kind of.
The studio clock blinked 12:47 AM in pale green. You were the only one left in the building, as usual. Just you and your exhausted reflection, slick with sweat and anxiety under the too-bright fluorescent lights.
You reached for your backpack—the one you dragged around like a safety blanket even to rehearsals. Inside was your laptop, your textbooks, and a perfectly organized stack of notes and assignments. You had submitted every paper on time, aced every test, and somehow still managed to keep your GPA intact. You didn’t allow yourself to slip, no matter how tired you were.
Because failure wasn’t an option.
Ballet helped. It always did. Or at least you told yourself it did.
For three hours, you’d been able to lose yourself in it. The lines, the form, the familiar ache of precision—each step like a prayer whispered under your breath. Your body remembered even when your mind didn’t. You didn’t have to think, you just had to obey. In the echo chamber of your movements, you could forget how humiliated you’d felt in hip hop class.
“You’re too stiff,” your professor had said earlier that day, not unkind but blunt, in front of everyone. “There’s no flow. You’re not letting the music move through you.”
Like your muscles were marble. Like your whole body had forgotten how to breathe.
The words clung to you all evening, even now, tucked into the corners of your shoulders like bruises. You knew he was right. You hated that he was right.
In ballet, you didn’t have to flow. You had to be exact. You had to hit every count with razor-edged sharpness. You could be a machine. You could be perfect.
So you stayed late.
Practiced harder.
Punished yourself, maybe.
Because you didn’t want to be bad at something. And if you couldn’t make yourself flow like the music wanted, you’d at least do what you knew: outwork the ache.
You didn’t even glance at the mirror before leaving. You already knew what you’d see.
The hallway was still, almost eerily so. The kind of quiet that makes you realize how loud your brain is. Your shoes scuffed softly against the tile, the only sound between the studios and practice rooms. You were already rehearsing a mental to-do list—shower, email Professor Greer, review unit circle identities, remember to check if the spring showcase had updated the cast list—
Then you heard it.
A low thump. Then another. Music.
Not piano. Not violin. Not anything meant for pliés and pirouettes.
It was deep and pulsing, like a heartbeat echoing through the building’s chest. You froze mid-step, your brows knitting as you tilted your head toward the sound.
It was faint, but rhythmic and you followed it.
The sound drew you past Studio A, past the empty dressing rooms and vending machines that hadn’t worked since freshman orientation. You hesitated as you neared the last door: Studio C.
The door was slightly ajar, just enough to let the music bleed out into the hallway. A shadow moved inside. Someone was still dancing.
You should’ve kept walking.
But your hand moved without thinking, fingers curling around the edge of the doorframe as you eased closer, careful not to make a sound. You peeked through the narrow crack.
And there he was.
Back to you. Shirt damp. Hair a mess.
His whole body moved like it was made of smoke and sound. Controlled chaos. You couldn’t look away.
Up close, he was… beautiful. But not in the polished, pristine way you were used to.
His dyed blonde hair stuck to his forehead in sweaty strands, the ends curling a little at the nape of his neck. His skin glowed under the studio lights, warm and flushed with exertion. A silver chain swung around his throat, catching light every time he moved. His black tank top clung to his toned frame—shoulders strong, arms cut and lean like he was built for this exact kind of motion.
And his legs—his whole stance—radiated confidence. Power that wasn’t rehearsed or clean. It was raw. Unapologetic. Loose.
You stared, transfixed, while your lungs forgot how to function. His body carved shapes through the air, and it was messy—but in a way that worked. He danced like he didn’t give a single fuck about what anyone thought.
God. What was that like?
You leaned closer without realizing it.
And then—he turned.
You hadn’t made a sound, hadn’t even breathed, but his head snapped toward the door like he’d felt you watching. His eyes landed directly on yours.
Time stopped.
He didn’t say anything. Just stared.
His chest rose and fell beneath the clinging fabric. Sweat glistened along his jaw. His mouth parted slightly in surprise—just enough to knock the air clean from your lungs.
Your entire body went rigid.
You stumbled backward, your bag thudding against your hip as your heart sprinted into your throat. You didn’t wait to see what he’d say. You didn’t want to know.
You turned.
And bolted.
Your steps echoed as you power-walked down the hallway, mortified and breathless, arms clutched tightly around your middle like you could somehow hold all your shame in. Your face burned. You didn’t stop until you were out of the building, into the night air, and halfway across the quad.
He’d seen you.
Worse—he’d caught you watching him.
You dragged your palms down your face and groaned into the dark. What the hell were you thinking?
But the image wouldn’t leave.
The way he moved. The beat pulsing beneath his skin. The look on his face when he saw you.
You lay in bed later, twisted in sheets and guilt, staring at your ceiling like it held answers.
But all your brain played was him.
And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop replaying that moment. Over. And over. And over.
You didn’t even know him.
But now you couldn’t get him out of your head.
⸻
let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for this <3
#svt x you#svt angst#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt fanfic#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n#svt x y/n#hoshi fanfic#hoshi x reader#hoshi x you#hoshi fluff#hoshi smut#hoshi angst#kwon soonyoung x reader#soonyoung x reader#kwon soonyoung smut#soonyoung smut
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So You're New To Takarazuka (2025 Edition)
This is a slightly revised and updated version of my 2022 post, because with Castlevania it seems we might be seeing a lot of new takarazuka fans, which I remember as being kind of overwhelming.
This post will share a lot with my previous one, except that it is up to date ^_^ So first of all: Hi! Welcome! Hope you enjoy the musicals and like the glitter!
Second of all, I know this fandom can be very different, a little bit (sometimes a lot) confusing, and definitely overwhelming, so I thought it might be helpful to make a bit of an introduction post, for if you’ve mostly seen memes or clips. So with that, here we are!
So You’re New to Takarazuka, what do you need to know?
(images: posters for Castlevania and Rose of Versailles)
Takarazuka in a Nutshell Takarazuka is a musical theatre company in Japan which only has female performers. It’s kind of like a reverse kabuki that way. It’s located in the city of Takarazuka (hence the name) and is over 100 years old! Which is awesome!
Takarazuka’s actresses are generally known as Takarasiennes (sienne or jenne for short), and are divided into women who play men, and women who play women. This division is made when they first enter the company based on the performers preference as well as their height (there is a minimum height for male-players). Many siennes come from ballet or theatre backgrounds and they audition for the company quite young, and can stay there for a long time.
The siennes who play guys are called otokoyaku (male role players) and ones who play women are known as musumeyaku (daughter role players, yes we know it sounds uncomfortable) and sometimes within the fandom and by other siennes onnayaku (female role players).
The company is divided into 5 troupes - hanagumi (flower troupe), tsukigumi (moon troupe), yukigumi (snow troupe), hoshigumi (star troupe) and soragumi (cosmos troupe) that perform to a schedule you can see on this page on the company’s website. They each have a speciality and character, and generally consist of anywhere between 60-80 members. There is also senka (or senior members), which is a group of some 20 older siennes who no longer perform in a troupe or in every show, but are specialists that are sent along to the other troupes as needed. You can find profiles for all of the current (and many, many past performers) on the fan-made website takawiki.
The Topstar System Each of the five troupes have a Top Star and a Top Musumeyaku, who perform the lead roles in most of the plays their troupe puts on. This couple is the ‘main’ couple of that troupe, and they tend to stay anywhere between 1-5 years depending on a variety of factors, before they retire and are replaced by the people “next in line” – this is a very hierarchical system in which performers climb up the ranks starting from their time in the Takarazuka Music School. Siennes can climb up the ranks by being given important roles, given leads in smaller theatres, or otherwise gaining prominence and popularity through stuff like fan engagement, merch sales, etc. This means also that casting is not generally done by audition and that there is a very limited pool of performers available for each play; you stay in your troupe (unless you're transferred) and you perform with them. Roles are assigned primarily by rank, as well, so you will not soon see a very new performer have a bigger role than someone who has been there for a long time (this is oversimplified, but that what it's an intro for).
Last and current top combis (topstar and topmusumeyaku) & troupe vibes:
Hanagumi Current Topcombi: Towaki Sea and Hoshizora Misaki Previous: Yuzuka Rei and Hoshikaze Madoka
Hanagumi is the oldest troupe of the company (established in 1921), and often considered it’s most traditional because of that. They are specifically known for the coolness of their otokoyaku, and their general aesthetic. Under Yuzuka Rei a lot of focus was placed on dance, and now with Towaki Sea we see a focus on darker stories.

(top: Towaki Sea's 'Castlevania', bottom: Yuzuka Rei's 'Top Hat')
Tsukigumi Current Topcombi: Houzuki An and Amashi Juri Previous: Tsukishiro Kanato and Umino Mitsuki Tsukigumi is just about almost as old as Hana (also 1921), and known for their comedic and western musicals, as well as their strong vocals. They were also the first troupe to perform ‘The Rose of Versailles’, which is one of Takarazuka’s flagship shows. Tsukigumi has multiple topmusumeyaku that started out as otokoyaku and switched later in their career (including current topmusume Amashi Juri, and previous topmusume Manaki Reika)

(Top: Houzuki An's 'Golden Liberty', bottom: Tsukishiro Kanato's 'Great Gatsby') Yukigumi Current topcombi: Asami Jun and Yumeshiro Aya Previous: Ayakaze Sakina and Yumeshiro Aya/Asazuki Kiwa*
Yukigumi is the troupe that focusses most on acting, and that is known for their performances of more traditional Japanese shows (nihonmono). In the modern era, they are also most often the troupe that does Manga adaptions (such as Lupin III, City Hunter and recently Berubara). *Ayakaze had two different topmusumeyaku partners, each for 3 shows, and Yumeshiro Aya stayed on with the next topstar after Ayakaze retired.
(Top: Asami Jun's 'Robin the Hero', bottom: Ayakaze Sakina's 'Bonnie and Clyde') Hoshigumi Future: Akatsuki Chisei and Uta Chizuru Current Topstar: Rei Makoto Previous Topmusumeyaku: Maisora Hitomi** Hoshigumi is known for their strong drama and stars with a lot of personality, as well as their focus on aesthetic and costuming. They do a lot of dramatic big-budget musicals and are currently very much the French Musical troupe. **Hoshigumi is currently in the middle of Rei Makoto's retirement (she just finished her final run in the Takarazuka Grand Theatre and will still perform in Tokyo), but her topmusumeyaku Maisora Hitomi left before her. The next topcombi has been announced, but they have not yet performed a show togeter, and because there is currently no Topmusumeyaku, Akatsuki Chisei is playing a female role in Rei Makoto's final show.

(Top: Rei Makoto and Akatsuki Chisei in 'Ashura', bottom: Rei Makoto and Maisora Hitomi) Soragumi Current topcombi: Sakuragi Minato and Haruno Sakura Previous: Serika Toa and Haruno Sakura***
Soragumi, the youngest troupe by far, is also the most experimental. They have the tallest siennes and also often the most non-traditional shows. Their musumeyaku are often considered slightly less traditionally feminine.
*** Haruno Sakura is staying on as topmusumeyaku. They have only just switched topcombi, so Sakuragi Minato's first show has not yet started.


(top and bottom: pictures from Serika Toa's 'Razzle Dazzle/Takarazuka Love Songs')
The Sumire Code Something which you will run into fairly quickly when you get into the Takarazuka Fandom is the Sumire Code, which is an unwritten set of rules or guidelines for both siennes and fans regarding how to interact with one another. I have a longer explainer of this here.
The basic gist of it really is about respect, specifically for the performers, and also regarding their safety. There are a lot of differing opinions on certain aspects the Sumire code that I won’t get into now, but in general the foreign Takarazuka fandom does try to keep it in mind with regards to their online behaviour. One of what I personally think is one of the most positive aspects of the Sumire code (regardless of any of my other opinions) is the fact that it is intended to protect the privacy of the siennes, and that we as fans are not supposed to bother them or dive into their real lives. Those are their own, and we have no rights to them.
One important aspect of the Sumire Code that is relevant to online fandom, is that the Hankyu Company is extremely diligent in controlling and protecting their copyright. The blurays are very expensive to buy and if material is posted in public places online, fans can get into a lot of trouble if stuff gets shared around. This can include takedowns on video platforms and other ways in which fans are locked out of being able to engage with the company. This doesn’t only go for video material, but also for the various types of print items the company produces. This results in all of us being careful with what we share, where we share it, and with whom. I know that to some, that can feel a little gatekeepy, but it’s important to understand that it’s really not that we want to keep new fans out, on the contrary, a lot of people here on tumblr and other platforms are doing their best to reach out, it’s just that the way this works limits the easily publically available material for new fans.
That’s all Real Fun Info, but I Want to Watch Some Shows! Right, so you’re really here to watch some shows, fair enough! Where do you go? I know this in particular can be quite confusing, and sometimes a little difficult.
DVD/BLURAY First of all, you can buy a lot of the discs (dvds or blurays) of musicals that you like, which is imo kind of amazing since we’ve all been collectivel begging broadway/west end to do that for YEARS, so that’s cool. Of course, you don’t just wanna drop a ton of money - but in order to get an idea of whether or not you might like them, you can go to the Takarazuka YouTube channel (see link below) and watch their trailers, info videos, and clips. However, of course you might not have the money to spend on an expensive Bluray or DVD, not everyone has that kind of disposable income, so what else can you do? If you want more detailed info on where to purchase blurays or dvds, there is another explainer for that on @eralkfang's page right here.
SKYSTAGE Takarazuka also has its own TV channel called ‘SkyStage’. Here, they broadcast shows from their vast library of content, and produce a number of behind the scenes features which can be very fun, but unless you live in Japan this is pretty hard to access. Luckily there is, nowadays, a pretty good solution for this! If you ARE however in Japan, I can sincerely reccomend it.
TKZ ON DEMAND You can use Takarazuka On Demand, an online service through which you can rent shows quite cheaply and easily. You do need a credit card and probably a VPN, which I know can sound a little scary, but it doesn’t have to be. The process is relatively simple, and if this is something you want to set up there’s tons of people around that are happy to help you (but don’t ask me, I am technologically challenged and a friend had to do it for me). Takarazuka On Demand also has a good deal of SkyStage stuff, which means you can find behind the scenes material here too!
FAN STREAMS Finally, if you don’t want to do any of these things, there are a number of us here on Tumblr who are happy to answer your questions, or if you want to see something that you don’t have access to - stream our shows for you. This is generally done in private locked stream rooms, for our own safety, as the company is specifically very strict on content sharing and we would rather not get in trouble. However, if you dm someone politely they will almost certainly be happy to help and to try and arrange a stream in your timezone if at all possible. I know dming strangers can be scary, but I promise we don’t bite.
However, when you do talk to us, please do so respectfully, and please respect the space you are in. As much as we would love to shower you in glitter, we are not slot machines that can give you content, and we are careful because the company has nuked accounts in the past.
Peoples files and their translations have also been stolen in the past, and when things get spread across the internet nilly willy that can have seirous reprecussions for us.
TL;DR Welcome! Here’s a whole bunch of Takarazuka resources that I bundled so you can find them in one place, please have fun. Please do know that everyone is welcome here! We want people to come hang out, join us, watch things. That’s why we like to stream, we just ask that you treat us with kindness.
Takarazuka is a really fun hobby to have, even if it seems a little complicated. You’ll get the hang of it, and there’s lots of options to watch things in various ways!
All that to say: Welcome, and enjoy the glitter
Resources https://www.takawiki.com/tiki-index.php Takawiki is an absolutely fantastic resource where you can find information on shows, performers, terms, and a variety of translations!
https://www.takawiki.com/tiki-index.php?page=Glossary+of+Terms Takawiki’s glossary of terms where you can look up a lot of really helpful info to help you wade through all the random Japanese people toss into their posts here.
https://www.takawiki.com/tiki-index.php?page=Sumire+Code The summary post for the Sumire code.
https://www.youtube.com/user/TRCofficialchannel Takarazuka’s official youtube channel, send them some love!
https://kageki.hankyu.co.jp/ Takarazuka’s official website! Here they post news, you can buy tickets if you’re in Japan, ad find out a variety of other pieces of information. They have an English version of the webpage, but the information is a little more limited on there.
https://kageki.hankyu.co.jp/schedule/index.html The yearly performance schedule.
https://www.tca-pictures.net/ This is the Takarazuka merch store online, you can buy merch for shows, programs, magazines, photos and other stuff here.
https://www.tca-pictures.net/skystage/ This is the website of Skystage, you can look around here a bit to kind of see how it works.
https://www.tca-pictures.net/vod/ This link will send you to Takarazuka On Demand, where if you make an account you can legally watch shows for as much as 5 dollars if you want to. https://www.tumblr.com/eralkfang/785974587264548864/how-to-buy-takarazuka-castlevania-on-bddvd And again Eralks how to buy a show explainer! Other Fun Stuff Here is again the link to my Sumire Code Explainer. History Post about Takarazuka's past. Propeganda about my favourite performers. Show Reccomendations for beginners.
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[Dev Log] June 2025
Hello, I hope you're doing well!
Summer arrived so quickly that I barely noticed while working on the update, but I hope to catch up with everything once it's released.
As for my progress, here's a quick overview of my activity over the past month and my plans for the current one.

Announcement.
For Patreon members: The release date is scheduled for June 28.
In mid-June, I'll post a progress update to let you know how things are going.
Please note that access to the code for the Patreon demo will be disabled until the public release.
For other readers: I'll share some of the sneak peeks previously posted on Patreon a week before the release date [here on the Tumblr blog].
I'd like to note in advance that I don't have an estimated time for the public release. The update may need additional polishing and changes before it's ready to go public.
Thank you so much for your support and interest!

What was done last month?
▹ Chapter 3 Pt. 2: finished working on I's scene and rewrote R's scene.
It's still a bit hard to admit because it slowed my progress, but while working on R's and I's scenes, I realized that what I had originally written just wasn't working well. I had to rewrite both scenes. While I'm happy with how I's scene turned out, I still have some doubts about R's. In short, this rewrite means that a few answers I gave to previous asks are no longer valid [you won't be able to get your MC drunk, and you won't meet another secondary rival]. Even though it was a stressful process to change what was originally planned, I don't regret my decision [I might even reuse the cut content in future scenes].
▹ Stats Changes.
I also spent time revising and refining some of the stats. Here's what the stats will look like in the update [comparison to the public version]:
I know that the stats still aren't perfect, but I think the change made them represent the choices readers can make much better than they did before. Also, there's a small coding feature I wanted to mention: If the MC has a higher "Genuine" stat than "Guarded", some of the ROs will lose alignment points if you choose to lie to them or hide things. It's a very simple mechanic:
However, there are also several ROs whose alignment points increase if the MC shows distrust or acts more guarded, so it's a situational feature.

What will I be working on in June?
Since I've paused Patreon billing, I'll be focusing on releasing the update by the deadline [T's and S's scene are last for a reason].
As I mentioned on Patreon, I was recently prescribed medication, and I'm a bit concerned about potential side effects which could impact my ability to work [and possibly the deadline as well].
Still, I hope that won't be the case. I know you've already waited a long time, and I'm doing my best to make sure the final result lives up to your support.

Thank you for reading to the end! Wishing you a wonderful week and days after that! ♥
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I went to the Wikipedia page on Les Champs magnétiques (a French surrealist novel written entirely as automatic writing, i.e. typing whatever words come into your head without trying to make them mean anything), which is one of the Wikipedia pages I remember being fascinated by as a young teen first discovering Wikipedia, when at least a couple of you were literally not even born yet, or like barely born. The very short article hasn't changed much since 20 years ago except that the example passage they quote is now a different one for some reason, which I noticed immediately on account of the vibes being wrong despite the new passage also mentioning train stations, and I had to go back to an older revision to see the one I remember from my youth:
The marvellous railway-stations never afford us shelter anymore: the long passages terrify us. So in order to go on living these monotonous minutes must still be stifled, these scraps of centuries. Once we loved the year's last sunny days, the narrow plains where our eyes' gaze flowed like those impetuous rives of our childhood. There remain nothing but reflections now in the woods repopulated with absurd animals, with well-known plants.
For some reason I felt like going back even further to the very first version of the article, created May 8th 2004, and I was rewarded with the fact that the user who initially created the article for Les Champs magnétiques (and the current version is still mostly their work actually) decided to get a bit self-referential and wacky with it; this is how their original version ends:
Keeping the spirit of surrealism, the rest of this entry is done using automated writing (spelling mistakes and all): A strange french book, is this book. I can try to read it but sometinmes I have trouble, especisallym wsince my essay is due in Monday. I have boorrowed a lot of books from the library. Perhapos I can do an automated essay? I mentioned it to my lecturerer and he said it would not work. I wonder if the wiklipedia people will accept this entry. I think they are too strict and it is a pity that surrealism is not an accepted technique if these people knew anything about post-modernism they would realise that everythign like this is valid on some level althought I guess I haven't really spoken about the book, yeah its good, there is poetry towards the end so it's not really a novel.
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Ink!Sans Cultural Inspiration
(revised version)

art by @/sakuramochi64 on twitter
Disclaimer!
This post aims to explore and analyze both the prominent and subtle East Asian cultural influences—primarily Japanese—that have shaped the character of Ink!Sans. If any information in this essay is inaccurate or unintentionally offensive, please don’t hesitate to reach out! This essay serves as a revised and updated version of the analysis conducted last year.
Ink!Sans by @comyet
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''It was a night where it felt like i was a miserable artist and i was very frustrated at my work and it felt like i wasn’t worth alot (we all have these), then I came across a picture of a japanese ink brush, and it was all I needed to start doodling a concept.
That’s how Ink is born.''
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According to Ink’s creator, Comyet, the idea for Ink!Sans was sparked by an image of a brush specifically crafted for sumi and Chinese ink art. In China, the tradition of using specialized ink brushes, known as Chinese writing brushes, has been a foundational element in the art of calligraphy and traditional painting for centuries. These brushes are highly valued for their precision and versatility, allowing artists to produce a range of strokes, from fine lines to bold, expressive swashes. The brush itself is composed of a bamboo handle and a carefully tapered head made from animal hair, designed to hold and release ink in controlled flows.
This tool became central not only in Chinese culture but also influenced Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese art, where calligraphy holds a similar cultural significance and is closely tied to writing systems derived from Chinese characters. These brushes symbolize the control, fluidity, and intentionality required in both written language and visual art across East Asia. This deep-rooted cultural importance of the ink brush inspired Ink!Sans's character design and powers, allowing him to wield 'ink-based' abilities, symbolizing both creativity and adaptability. His main weapon—a brush—reflects this heritage and further emphasizes the connection between art and battle, as he channels the brush’s traditional associations with fluidity and strength into his fighting style, merging the arts of calligraphy and combat.

(visual example of an ink calligraphy brush)
At glance, the ink material is an enduring medium that still surrounds society till this day and it's used in multiple cultures across the world.
Writing with ink calligraphy brushes is also common in Europe and the Middle East, where artisans developed ink using a unique combination of iron salts and oak galls. This type of ink, known as iron gall ink, initially appeared in rich, dark tones, making it highly desirable for manuscripts and official documents due to its bold, readable quality. However, over time, the iron in the ink oxidized, resulting in a distinct color shift to warm, rust-like brown tones. This characteristic fading can still be observed today in ancient manuscripts, such as early European literary works, where the reddish-brown hues give a sense of history to these documents. The durability and aesthetic appeal of iron gall ink contributed significantly to its prevalence in both regions, influencing the artistry of calligraphy and manuscript illumination for centuries.
Like previously mentioned, Ink!Sans was inspired by traditional ink materials developed in East Asia, where artisans mastered the creation of carbon-based black ink, often using soot or charcoal mixed with binding agents like animal glue. This type of ink, known for its rich, deep color and lasting durability, was a staple in East Asian calligraphy and artwork. Unlike iron gall ink, this carbon-based ink maintained its dark, almost jet-black color for centuries, even in varying environmental conditions. The resilience of this ink allowed ancient texts, paintings, and scrolls to retain their striking contrast and clarity, making it a celebrated medium in East Asian art and culture. Ink!Sans draws inspiration from this enduring quality, symbolizing strength, creativity, and the timelessness of artistic expression

(visual example of an ancient art piece that used carbon-based black ink)
To note, unlike iron gall ink, carbon based inks are still very common to this day.
Although the primary Chinese calligraphic scripts were well established by the fourth century, calligraphy as an art form has continually evolved over the centuries, adapting to new cultural and aesthetic influences. Skilled calligraphers, who spent years mastering brush techniques and perfecting their own unique hand, were celebrated for their distinctive styles, and their works became templates for both art and personal expression. Over time, subsequent generations of artists studied these revered styles, incorporating and reinterpreting them to reflect their individual voices and the changing social landscapes. This ongoing transformation has kept Chinese calligraphy dynamic and relevant, and it remains a respected art form today, blending tradition with contemporary aesthetics.
In Japan, calligraphy also held deep cultural significance, symbolizing both personal refinement and intellectual achievement. Calligraphy was regarded as a mark of scholarly sophistication and artistic taste, with a variety of tools developed to enhance the writing experience. One notable example is the suzuribako ("ink stone box"), a portable lacquered wood box designed to store an inkstone, water dropper, brushes, and solid ink sticks. These boxes were crafted with precision and adorned with intricate lacquer designs, reflecting their owner’s status and appreciation for art. Suzuribako were lightweight and convenient, enabling calligraphers to take their tools outdoors or to scenic locations to write letters, diary entries, or poetry. This practice not only facilitated creativity but also connected the act of writing with nature, creating an immersive experience where one could find inspiration in the surrounding beauty while crafting words in elegant brushstrokes. The combination of these refined tools and settings underscored calligraphy’s role as a deeply personal and aesthetic pursuit in Japanese culture.
From this perspective, it is essential to highlight that Ink's character draws inspiration from traditional ink calligraphy, a detail reflected in his distinctive speech font, 'Note This'.


(Example of Ink's canon speaking font and ancient calligraphy)
Also clarified in an ask on her side blog, Comyet explained that traditional samurai clothing served as a key inspiration for Ink's outfit redesign in 2020. Ink's creator thoughtfully incorporated these characteristics to enhance Ink’s visual appeal and connection to his main source of inspiraton. This influence is particularly noticeable in the first and second analyses of Ink's character, where we see clear visual cues from iconic Japanese garments.

(Ink!sans reference sheet for the 2020 design, credit goes to @/comyet)
Ink's pants were inspired by hakama, a traditional Japanese garment known for its distinctive design as skirt-like trousers, typically worn over a kimono. Hakama are historically associated with a range of activities, from ceremonial occasions to martial arts, and are often considered a symbol of status and refinement. Specifically, Ink's pants appear to be inspired by the umanori style of hakama, which is characterized by a split or division in the middle, allowing for greater freedom of movement. This style was traditionally worn by samurai and other individuals involved in horseback riding, as the design allowed for ease of movement and flexibility when mounting or riding a horse.

The umanori hakama were not only practical for riding but also served as a functional yet elegant garment, embodying the balance of form and function typical in Japanese clothing. By incorporating this style into Ink's character design, Comyet likely intended to evoke themes of mobility, agility, and strength, while subtly referencing Japanese martial traditions and the samurai ethos. This choice enhances Ink's overall aesthetic, highlighting his dynamic, action-oriented nature, suggesting that his character is both rooted in tradition and capable of fluid, graceful movement.
The hakama was not merely a functional garment but also a powerful symbol of social status, loyalty, and the samurai's role in Edo society. While the hakama was predominantly worn by samurai, it also found its place in the wardrobe of scholars, priests, and members of the aristocracy, who wore it as part of their ceremonial dress.
Furthermore, Comyet has explained that Ink's outfit and appearance were partially inspired by the clothing worn by samurai, as depicted in ukiyo-e prints from the Edo Period of Japan. Ukiyo-e, which translates to 'pictures of the floating world,' was a popular genre of woodblock prints and paintings that flourished from the 17th to the 19th centuries, showcasing scenes of everyday life, landscapes, kabuki actors, and beautiful women. However, samurai were also common subjects of these prints, often portrayed in full regalia, highlighting their status and discipline.
(this line of text was found within old versions of Ink's FAQ post, mainly from 2020-2021)
In these ukiyo-e representations, samurai are frequently depicted wearing a distinctive combination of garments, including elaborate kamishimo (formal attire worn by samurai), hakama (wide trousers), and haori (a kimono-style jacket worn over the kimono), along with ornate accessories such as sashes and swords. These samurai were often shown in dynamic poses, suggesting a sense of power, grace, and readiness for battle, which reflected their societal role as both warriors and landowners.
Ukiyo-e representations of samurai often carried deeper meanings beyond their visual impact. Samurai in these prints were more than just warriors; they were cultural icons, symbols of virtue, duty, and sacrifice. Some prints portrayed samurai in the context of popular stories or historical events, such as famous battles or legendary acts of heroism. For example, the prints often depicted samurai as loyal retainers or leaders fighting for justice, reflecting the ideal of bushidō, the samurai code of ethics, which emphasized virtues like loyalty, courage, and respect.

(Ukiyo-e art made by Katsukama Shun'ei, Edo Period)
During the Edo period, the hakama was an important garment worn by the nobility as part of their formal attire, complementing other traditional outfits of the time, such as the noshi and kariginu, a sleeveless jacket with distinctive, sharply defined shoulders. These garments were designed to symbolize the status and refined taste of their wearers. The hakama, with its wide, flowing silhouette, was highly functional and practical, allowing for ease of movement while maintaining an air of elegance.
On another note, Ink's design is not the only aspect inspired by cultural roots, the musical themes associated with him also draw significant inspiration from traditional Japanese music, as described by Comyet. The incorporation of these musical elements into Ink's character enhances the depth and cultural resonance of his persona, creating a multi-layered and thematic representation to a broader cultural context.
A predominant theme associated with Ink is one called 'BrushWork.' This musical theme, featured in the popular series Underverse, shines through particularly with the use of the shamisen, a traditional stringed instrument, and a flute. The choice of the shamisen in this composition is significant, as it evokes the soundscape of Japan, with its distinct, plucked tones often associated with traditional music, storytelling, and performance arts.
The shamisen is a core instrument in genres such as kabuki (a traditional form of Japanese drama) and bunraku (puppet theater), where it is used to underscore the emotional intensity and narrative depth of the performances. In BrushWork, the shamisen helps set the tone for Ink’s character, enhancing the theme of 'brushwork' through its fluid, emotive sound.
Honorable mention: The instrumental video for ''Soulless Heart'', features an artwork that is inspired by traditional sumi-e (ink wash painting), an art form renowned for its elegant brushwork and minimalistic yet profound depictions of nature. This particular artwork, which accompanies the music, was created by the artist @/sakuramochi64.
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Sources
1.National Museum of asian art (materials & techniques. Ink section)
2. Asian Brushpaper (an-overview-of-chinese-ink-history)
3. Wikipedia (wiki Hakama-pants+Shamisen)
4. Aikido Journal (Hakama-101)
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The next revision of the playtest draft for Eat God is now up. This version includes all of the missing rules from the previous version – advancement, Progress and Calamity Clocks, etc. – as well as numerous expansions and clarifications; the game is now considered feature-complete, though it still needs worked examples, pre-made scenarios, and a whole pile of Big Stupid Tables™.
The most noteworthy addition to this draft, however, is (mostly) complete character creation rules. All but one of the remaining blanks have been filled in, and many Traits have been revised to make them more flexible and add a few interesting new rules toys. You can more easily stat up horrible little gargoyles, there's a little something for the hypno kink crowd, and also you can be a (very small) werewolf now.
(The one remaining blank alluded to above with that "mostly" is the 36th Trait, which I'm leaving off for now because I can't decide exactly what to slot in there and I don't want to spin my wheels on that any longer; for now it just reads "reroll".)
Last but not least, Eat God now has a cover illustration, thanks to the very talented @magpiemalarkey. We decided to be forthright about the game's inspirations; for legal reasons, the depicted characters are not Muppets. (To be clear, only the illustration is their work; the text design for the game's title is a placeholder I threw together myself using a commercial font, so don't blame them for that part.)
As always, questions, criticisms, and bizarre rants are welcome – and if you'd like to give it a spin but don't have a group, character creation is its own little self-contained minigame, and all you need is six-sided dice to give it a try; feel free to post your creations in the notes!
You can find the latest revision at the links above, or below:
https://penguinking.com/eat-god/
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online dating messages update
thank you all for the positive response on my last post! i did NOT expect my silliness to get that many replies. 💀
i made this mod and wrote the first draft very late one night, & immediately had second thoughts abt it the next day. your comments have been really really encouraging me to work on it and make it as good as possible. 💖💖💖
in the pics above, you can see some of the updated messages. i ended up using a lot of typical pickup lines for the wholesome sfw version.
i am also working on a nsfw version. you can see preview below 🤭
i still have to make some final proofreading and revisions for both versions but i hope to release it soon!
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