#jo: EYE EMOJI

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

.

[newtness532]

🤭🥰🤭🥰🤭

[dramatiique]

❛ what are you thinking about? ❜ (j.ongwoo @ m.oonjo)

&. 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. - ( accepting! )

There was the stirring of something within his chest; a swell of pride perhaps? Maybe something akin to joy? Jong-woo wasn't quickly making excuses to leave or refusing his invitations to drink on the roof. No, he was actively participating in conversation instead of letting it dwindle to nothing. That was promising.

Eyes cast out over the dark city, a light breeze ruffling his hair, Moon-jo's elegant fingers pinched the sides of the steadily emptying beer can as he takes a moment to contemplate his answer.

"I'm thinking about how glad I am to have you here. It's been a while since I felt like I could relax with someone like this."

Even if the atmosphere between them had been awkward and icy at first — with moments still occurring that led to tension — Moon-jo wanted these rooftop rendezvous to mean something to Jong-woo. A space for him to express his deepest thoughts and truest feelings to nobody else but him.

Turning his gaze to the younger man, a smile curved his lips. "I know moving here hasn't been easy for you, but I hope our meetings have provided you some sense of... security. If you ever need to get something off your chest, I'll always be here to listen."

@dreams-of-fate

[pregnancykink]

thinking abt john/jo on this dff tbh

[ducktoo]

Getaway

Jo Yuri x M!Reader

Note: here’s to the hamster girl that got the big bag from the squid 🫶

It started with excitement. A group chat buzzing with memes about sunsets over the ocean, lists of must-try cruise activities, and an unhealthy number of debates over how many swimsuits one person actually needs. This was supposed to be the trip—five days of relaxation, laughter, and memories with your closest friends.

Then the excuses started rolling in.

First, it was Jihun. “Sorry, man, work’s piling up. I can’t take the time off.” His message was punctuated with a sad face emoji, as if that would soften the blow.

Next, Minji dropped out, claiming some vague “family emergency.” You tried to sympathize until you saw her Instagram story of her at a café with her dog, captioned Much-needed chill day.

By the time Seungmin admitted he “forgot” about his cousin’s wedding, you were already resigned to your fate. One by one, your friends bailed, leaving you holding the metaphorical bag—and the very literal cruise ticket.

Cancelling wasn’t an option. Non-refundable, non-exchangeable, non-everything, because you’d been too cheap to spring for the insurance. You’d planned for the luxury cabin, imagining yourself waking up to ocean views and feeling like royalty with your close friends. But with everyone else backing out, your budget evaporated faster than the group chat notifications.

Which led to this: you, booking a shared cabin with a stranger. It was either that or throw away the money you didn’t have to lose.

“You’ll be fine,” you told yourself as you stared at the confirmation email. “It’s just five days. How bad could it be?”

-

Yuri tugged the strap of her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, sighing as she handed over her cruise ticket at the check-in counter. She was supposed to be here with her family—her parents, her older sister—but life had a way of throwing curveballs.

Her sister had come down with the flu two days before the trip. Nothing too serious, but enough that her parents decided to stay home to take care of her. “You should still go,” her mother had insisted. “We already paid for your ticket. Think of it as a break.”

Yuri didn’t argue. A break sounded… necessary.

After Squid Game Season 2 aired, her world had been flipped upside down. Fame was exhilarating, sure, but it was also overwhelming. Endless interviews, promotional events, fans recognizing her on the street. It felt like she was constantly on, with no time to just breathe.

She’d thought about cancelling. Spending five days alone on a cruise ship wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But her mother’s words lingered: You need a break, Yuri. Go.

So here she was, trying to convince herself that five days of ocean views and buffet dinners could somehow make her feel like herself again.

The only catch? She’d been bumped to a shared cabin because of a last-minute shuffle in bookings. “It’ll be fine,” the cruise rep had told her over the phone. “It’s just a roommate. You’ll hardly notice them.”

Yuri rolled her eyes at the memory. Hardly notice them?

Yeah, right.

If this was anything like her recent luck, her roommate would either be a chatterbox who didn’t know the meaning of personal space or some fan who wouldn’t stop asking about the show.

She stepped into the tiny cabin, already dreading the next five days.

-

The cruise ship looms large in the harbor, its pristine white exterior gleaming under the midday sun. You pause for a moment, clutching your duffel bag, letting the salty breeze wash over you. The idea of going on this cruise solo still feels surreal, but with all your friends bailing at the last minute, you weren’t about to let the ticket—and your deposit—go to waste.

The fact that you’d been downgraded to a shared cabin? Well, that was a bitter pill you were still swallowing.

Cabin 512A. The number taunts you as you make your way down the narrow, carpeted hallways.

The luggage wheels behind you squeak, the only sound in the otherwise quiet corridor. You grip the keycard tightly, your heart thumping faster than it should. Sharing a cabin with a stranger was bound to be awkward, but you’d convinced yourself it couldn’t be that bad.

The door beeps as you slide the keycard, and you step inside. It’s… snug. Two single beds crammed into a space that feels more like a walk-in closet with delusions of grandeur. One bed is already claimed, judging by the neatly folded hoodie and headphones resting on it.

You hear a faint sound—a soft hum—from the bathroom. Your brows knit together. It’s familiar. Too familiar.

The door creaks open before you can dwell on it further, and your new cabinmate steps out. She’s small, dressed in an oversized sweater and denim shorts, her hair casually tied up. For a moment, her gaze locks with yours, her eyes wide and questioning.

“UH…hi,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “You must be my roommate.”

You nod, but you’re not really listening. Your brain is short-circuiting, trying to process what you’re seeing.

Jo Yuri.

Not just your cabinmate—Jo Yuri, the breakout star from Squid Game Season 2. You’d binge-watched the entire season when it came out a few months ago, captivated by her performance. She played one of the more appealing characters: the underdog who managed to power through the entirety of the season. People online had been calling her the “puppy of the season.”

And now, she’s standing in front of you, looking more ordinary than you ever thought possible. No makeup, no stylists, just a girl with messy hair and an easy smile.

“Uh… yeah,” you finally manage, trying to play it cool. “That’s me. Roommate. Hi.”

She chuckles, her smile widening. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shake your head quickly, attempting to compose yourself. “No, no. It’s just… you look really familiar.”

Her expression shifts slightly, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Ah,” she says, her tone light but guarded. “You’ve seen it?”

You don’t need her to elaborate. “Squid Game?” you ask, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“Yeah.” She shrugs, leaning casually against the wall. “That’d do it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you scramble to fill it. “You were great in it,” you blurt out, cringing internally at how fanboy-ish you sound. “Like, really great. One of the best parts of the season.”

Her lips quirk into a smile, but there’s a hint of weariness in it. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

You sense there’s more she’s not saying, but you don’t push. Instead, you gesture to your bed. “Uh, mind if I unpack?”

“Go for it,” she says, stepping aside.

The awkwardness lingers as you start unpacking, but you catch her glancing at you a couple of times, like she’s sizing you up. It’s weird—sharing a room with someone who’s been on your screen, who people have written essays and theories about online.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “So… what made you come on this cruise?”

You hesitate, debating how much to share. “Friends bailed,” you admit with a shrug. “Didn’t want to waste the ticket. What about you?”

She snorts, perching on the edge of her bed. “Needed a break. Too many people. Too much noise.”

“Isn’t that ironic?” you tease, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Considering, you know… you.”

Her laugh is light, genuine. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The conversation eases after that, flowing like a gentle current. You don’t mention Squid Game again, and she doesn’t bring it up either. Instead, you talk about the ship, the itinerary, and the overly enthusiastic cruise director you’d both spotted during boarding.

But in the back of your mind, you’re still reeling. Jo Yuri, in the flesh. And somehow, you’re supposed to survive five days of sharing a cabin with her without making a complete fool of yourself.

-

You’re still reeling from the whole “roommate with a stranger” situation when Yuri suggests exploring the ship. It feels like the right thing to do—anything to avoid sitting in the cabin together, surrounded by the thick air of awkward silence.

“Uh… sure,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Lead the way?”

Yuri raises an eyebrow at you, her expression somewhere between amused and unimpressed. “You’re really going to make me decide everything, huh?”

“No, no, I just—uh—thought maybe you… had a plan,” you mumble, stumbling over your words.

Her lips twitch into a small smirk. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”

You try, you really do, but relaxing is easier said than done when you’re walking shoulder to shoulder with someone like Jo Yuri. She’s effortlessly cool, with her confident stride and casual yet chic outfit that screams “I’m too cool for this, but I’m here anyway.” Meanwhile, you feel like a bundle of frayed nerves, overthinking every step and every word.

The first stop is the promenade deck. It’s lined with shops selling overpriced souvenirs, jewellery, and random knick-knacks you definitely don’t need.

“Look at this,” Yuri says, holding up a sparkly snow globe with a tiny replica of the ship inside. “A whole fifteen dollars for something that’s going to collect dust on a shelf.”

You laugh nervously, unsure if you’re supposed to agree or argue. “Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s definitely not worth it.”

She narrows her eyes at you, clearly catching on to your awkward vibe. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You blink, feeling your ears heat up. “I talk! I just… don’t want to say anything dumb.”

Yuri tilts her head, studying you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she bursts out laughing. It’s not mocking—more like she finds your honesty refreshing. “You’re not as scary as you look.”

“I don’t look scary,” you protest, though your voice comes out weaker than you’d like.

“Mm, debatable,” she teases, nudging your arm.

You’re about to respond when the two of you pass by a small café on the deck. The smell of fresh pastries wafts out, and Yuri stops abruptly, sniffing the air like a cartoon character.

“Okay, we’re going in,” she declares.

Before you can protest, she grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. The café is cozy, with warm lighting and a display case full of pastries that look almost too good to eat. Yuri walks up to the counter, her eyes scanning the options with laser focus.

“Two croissants,” she says, turning to you. “And you’re paying.”

“What? Why?” you stammer, fumbling for your wallet.

“Because I’m cute and you’re trying to make a good first impression,” she says, deadpan, though her eyes twinkle with mischief.

You have no comeback for that, so you hand over the money and follow her to a small table by the window.

Yuri takes a bite of her croissant and lets out a satisfied hum. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is worth the overpriced cruise food.”

You nibble on yours, trying to act casual. “Yeah, it’s, uh… not bad.”

After finishing your snacks, the two of you wander out onto the open deck. The sea stretches endlessly in every direction, the horizon blending seamlessly with the sky. The sound of waves and the salty breeze are oddly calming.

“So,” Yuri says, breaking the silence. “What’s the first thing you wanna do tomorrow?”

You glance at her, surprised she’s asking. “Uh… I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be polite!”

“Polite is boring,” she says with a smirk. “But fine. How about karaoke? I saw a lounge near the theatre earlier.”

You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. “Karaoke? Like… singing?”

“No, like interpretive dance,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Yes, singing. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie, though the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of her is already giving you secondhanded anxiety.

“Good,” she says, her grin widening. “Because I’m definitely dragging you tomorrow.”

-

You wake up to the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship and faint footsteps outside the cabin. It takes a moment for you to remember where you are—and who you’re sharing the space with.

Rolling over, you see Yuri still fast asleep, her face buried in the pillow and her hair a chaotic mess. It’s oddly endearing, watching her like this, but you quickly snap out of it before she wakes up and catches you staring.

Not wanting to linger in the tiny cabin, you freshen up quietly and head to the deck to catch the sunrise. You don’t expect Yuri to join you, but just as the horizon starts to blush with orange and pink, you hear her voice.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, leaning on the railing beside you, still in her oversized hoodie. Her hair is slightly more presentable now, but you notice a faint crease on her cheek from the pillow.

“Something like that,” you reply, offering her a small smile.

For a while, the two of you stand there in silence, the morning air crisp and salty. The awkwardness from yesterday lingers faintly, but it feels more like background noise now, drowned out by the tranquillity of the moment.

“I’m starving,” she finally says, breaking the quiet.

You laugh. “I think they’re serving breakfast already. Want to head down?”

She nods, and the two of you make your way to the dining hall. It’s bustling but not chaotic, and you manage to snag a table near the window. Yuri piles her plate with fruit, eggs, and enough toast to feed a small village.

“Do you always eat this much in the morning?” you tease, gesturing to her plate.

She narrows her eyes at you, mock offense dripping from her tone. “I’m stocking up for the day. Don’t judge me.”

You chuckle and take a bite of your food, the atmosphere between you two finally starting to loosen.

After breakfast, the day unfolds naturally. You both decide to explore the ship, starting with the pool deck. The sun is warm, the water glistening, and you’re surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Yuri now.

“I can’t believe how big this place is,” she says, spinning in place to take it all in.

“Yeah, it’s like a floating city,” you agree.

She grins at you. “Still down for the karaoke? I’m kind of amazing at karaoke.”

“Oh really? Amazing, huh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t believe me?” she challenges, her tone playful.

“Surely someone here among us is not a singer, huh.”

The two of you continue wandering, checking out the shops, the gym, and even a small art gallery tucked away on one of the lower decks. Yuri lingers in front of a painting of a ship caught in a storm, her expression thoughtful.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, curious.

She shrugs but doesn’t look away from the painting. “I was just thinking… it’s crazy how people used to travel like this all the time, not knowing if they’d make it.”

“That’s kind of a downer,” you joke lightly, trying to break the mood.

She laughs softly and nudges your arm. “Sorry, I get weird sometimes. Let’s go find that karaoke bar.”

By the time evening rolls around, you’re both sitting in the lounge, sipping on mocktails with tiny umbrellas in them. Yuri sips hers thoughtfully, the sunset casting a golden glow over her face.

“I’m glad I didn’t cancel this trip,” she admits, almost to herself.

You glance at her, surprised. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s not so bad having a decent person to share it with.”

For a moment, you’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond. But then you see the way her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, and you realize she’s being genuine.

“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling the awkward tension between you two finally dissolve. “It’s not so bad.”

As the night stretches on, the ship seems to come alive with laughter and music, and you and Yuri find yourselves in the karaoke bar after all. She picks an upbeat song you don’t know but belts it out like a pro, her confidence infectious.

When she finishes, breathless and laughing, you can’t help but clap louder than anyone else in the room. She bows dramatically, blowing you a playful kiss before hopping off the stage.

“Your turn,” she says, sliding into the seat next to you.

“Oh hell no…” you protest, shaking your head.

“Too bad,” she replies, grabbing your arm and dragging you up to the stage. “We’re doing a duet. Here's a private lesson with a professional.”

And just like that, day two ends with the two of you laughing so hard you can barely breathe, the awkwardness from yesterday now nothing more than a distant memory.

-

Day three begins with a comfortable silence between you and Yuri as you both sip your morning coffee on the balcony. By now, you’ve grown accustomed to her quirks: the way she furrows her brows when she’s deep in thought, how she adds a ridiculous amount of sugar to her coffee, and how she taps her nails rhythmically on the table when she’s bored.

“You’re staring,” Yuri says without looking up from her phone, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“Am not,” you reply quickly, turning your gaze to the horizon. The sun is already high, and the shimmering ocean stretches endlessly.

After breakfast, the ship announces its arrival at a nearby island, and Yuri excitedly suggests signing up for the snorkelling excursion. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” she says, practically bouncing in place.

You agree, not entirely for the snorkelling but because her enthusiasm is contagious.

The excursion is a dream. The guides take you to a secluded reef with crystal-clear waters teeming with marine life. As you put on your gear and dive in, the world beneath the waves feels magical. Schools of vibrant fish dart around coral formations, and the water is so clear you can see every detail.

At one point, Yuri taps your shoulder underwater and gestures wildly to a sea turtle gliding gracefully past. You laugh—or at least try to, but it comes out as a muffled gurgle. Yuri seems to find this hilarious, and even with her snorkel on, you can tell she’s grinning.

When you resurface, she flicks water at you playfully. “Did you see how close it was?!”

“I did,” you reply, trying to shake the water out of your hair. “But you nearly scared it off with your flailing.”

“I was pointing, not flailing,” she retorts, sticking her tongue out.

The day ends with a quiet dinner back on the ship. You both opt for a small, cozy restaurant instead of the bustling buffet. Over plates of grilled seafood and pasta, Yuri shares more about her life—her dreams, her fears, and the little things that make her who she is.

“You know,” she says, twirling her fork absentmindedly, “I didn’t expect to actually enjoy this trip. I thought it’d be awkward sharing a room with a stranger, but… it’s been nice.”

Her words catch you off guard, but you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it has.”

By day four, you and Yuri have become a dynamic duo. It’s no longer just about sharing a cabin—it’s about sharing the entire experience.

The morning starts with a group yoga class on the deck. Yuri insists on trying it, claiming it’ll be “relaxing.” You’re skeptical, especially when you realize how uncoordinated you are compared to her.

“Downward dog,” the instructor calls out.

You glance at Yuri, who’s already in perfect form, her movements graceful and fluid. Meanwhile, you’re struggling not to topple over.

“Need help?” she whispers, barely holding back her laughter.

“I’m f-fine,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your arms trembling. Don't even mention the fact that your back cracks with every slight movement.

Suffice to say, Yuri had a lot of fun holding her laugh when glancing at you.

After yoga, the two of you grab smoothies from the ship’s café and spend the rest of the morning lounging by the pool. Yuri pulls out a book she brought along, while you scroll through your phone. Every so often, she nudges you with her foot, pointing out something funny in her book or making a sarcastic comment about the poolside drama happening around you.

In the afternoon, the ship hosts a trivia competition. Yuri’s eyes light up when she hears about it, and she drags you to the event.

“You’re good at trivia, right?” she asks.

“Uhh…Define ‘good,’” you reply, already regretting your life choices.

The game is chaotic, with questions ranging from history to pop culture. Yuri surprises you with her knowledge of obscure facts—she nails the question about 18th-century composers but completely blanks when asked about the capital of Switzerland.

“It’s Zurich, right?” she whispers to you.

“No, it’s Bern,” you reply, smirking.

She glares at you, whispering back, “If you’re wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Despite a few missteps, you manage to place second. Yuri proudly dons the sailor hat prize and refuses to take it off for the rest of the day.

That evening, you attend the ship’s formal dinner. Yuri, dressed in a sleek black dress, turns heads as she walks into the dining hall. You’re about to compliment her, but she beats you to it.

“You clean up nicely,” she says, eyeing your outfit.

“So do you,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.

The night ends with the two of you sitting on the deck, watching the stars. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the sound of waves and the occasional laughter of other passengers.

“This trip’s going to feel too short,” Yuri says softly, her gaze fixed on the sky.

You don’t respond immediately, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. Instead, you simply sit there, hoping the moment will stretch just a little longer.

-

The final day arrives with a bittersweet air. Breakfast feels quieter, and even Yuri’s usual sarcastic remarks are softer, almost hesitant.

“We should make the most of today,” she says, her voice determined but tinged with sadness.

And so, you do.

The two of you spend the morning doing all the things you hadn’t tried yet—arcade games, mini-golf, and even a cheesy photo booth where you both don silly props for the camera.

“Smile!” Yuri says, throwing her arm around your shoulder and holding up a fake moustache.

The resulting photo is ridiculous, but it’s one you know you’ll treasure.

In the afternoon, the ship docks at another island, and you both decide to go for a casual hike along the coast. The trail is quiet, with stunning views of the ocean. At one point, Yuri stops to take a photo, the wind catching her hair just right.

“Send me that one,” you say, pretending to be casual.

“Why? Planning to frame it?” she teases, but her cheeks turn pink.

The final evening arrives too soon. The ship hosts a farewell party, and the two of you join the crowd on the deck, dancing to live music. Yuri’s laughter is infectious as she spins you around, her energy lighting up the night.

And with the ship nears the port, reality sets in. The two of you return to your cabin to pack, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, as you stand by the railing one last time, Yuri hands you a folded piece of paper.

“In case we don’t run into each other again,” she says, her voice quiet.

You unfold it to find her phone number.

“Yuri—”

“Don’t say anything cheesy,” she interrupts, though her smile is soft.

When the ship finally docks and you part ways, you can’t help but feel like this is only the beginning of something bigger. But for now, you're contented with the short getaway with your lucky cabinmate, already reminiscing about it as you look at her back slowly disappearing to the crowd.

And hopefully, she enjoyed your company as much as she enjoyed yours.

[witchy-scribblings]

breakfast is served

togame jo x reader

synopsis ➳ every week is ovulation week when your boyfriend is togame jo.

warnings ➳ blowjobs, straightforward reader, fade to black before cunnilingus (my bad), i wrote this in two hours as a warm-up, lowercase

wordcount ➳ 1.5k

[crossposted on ao3]

sometimes you found yourself marvelling at the duality of things.

you liked storms because, despite their loud thunder and encompassing darkness, you always felt like you had been born anew when the sun began shining once more; storms could be undoubtedly cleansing, if disruptive in their method.

although you had a very low tolerance to spice, you often catch yourself ordering spicy dishes when you ate out because a moderate kick always seemed to be worth the burning tongue.

(and even if you found yourself struggling to finish your dinner, the human black hole you lovingly liked to call “my man” would indubitably clear the plate for you).

in this particular instance, you couldn’t help wondering how on earth the very picture of domesticity that was unfolding right in front of your eyes, nothing but cozy and innocent in nature, could be making you absolutely drench your panties.

togame jo stood with his lower back pressed against the edge of the counter, mindlessly scrolling on his phone while the kettle next to him vibrated furiously with the intensity of the boiling water inside. the volume on his phone was low, and despite this you could tell from the familiar audios that he was steadily going through the onslaught of reels you had been sending him the past couple of days; togame never ever replied to your tiktoks one by one - heck, you’d be lucky to get an emoji at all -, but he did watch them religiously - when they eventually became too many to ignore, that is.

the sunlight filtering through the blinds caught on the small droplets that slowly trailed from the ends of his mullet and soaked into his grey sweatshirt. while you had mourned the loss of his warmth when he decided to get up to take his morning shower, you couldn’t deny that walking past the bathroom on your way to the kitchen and getting to catch a whiff of his shampoo and aftershave was nothing if not a blessed morning treat.

to be fair, it isn’t that much of a mystery that the gentlest of scenes would make you horny, considering how absolutely down bad you were for your boyfriend.

whether he was ignoring you or genuinely hadn’t noticed your presence, you weren’t sure; but you also weren’t about to complain if it gave you the chance to ogle your man and stay exempt from teasing remarks while at it. you continued admiring him from the exposed safety of the doorway while he grabbed the kettle and started pouring water into his favourite mug, droopy eyes betraying how eager he was to finally sup from his green tea.

“how dare you look so soft and fuckable first thing in the morning?”

what had initially been intended as an inside thought was what broke the spell, and the next second you had togame’s baffled stare sizing you up where you stood.

“good morning to you as well.” fuck him and his raspy morning voice; and, despite the way it made your knees wobble, you managed to answer to his smug smirk with one of your own.

“did i lie though?” his shoulders shook with quiet laughter. he locked his phone and put it on the counter. he knew you like the back of his hand, and he recognized the implications of that tone; you hadn’t made it very far into being togame’s girlfriend without learning a little bit of cheek.

“i mean…” he drawled in that slow hum of his, “i wouldn’t say i look particularly fuckable. not any more than you, at least.” the way his eyes roamed appreciatively over your bedwear-clad body wasn’t lost on you. you took it as a sign to properly step into the kitchen, letting the scent of warm, steeping tea and aftershave envelop you the closer you grew. “what i would say is more correct is that you’re insatiable.”

“like you’re one to talk,” you purred, finally chest to chest with him and wasting no time to palm at the visible bulge on the crotch of his sweatpants. gearing yourself up with your best bedroom eyes, you blinked up at him, biting your lip. “can i suck your pretty dick, jo?”

that must have been the right thing to say because his lips came crashing down on yours in an instant, messy and harsh and thankfully uncaring of your morning breath. he muttered expletives into your mouth, and you nearly grinned when you felt him shamelessly grinding himself against your hand. pulling back - and dodging his searching lips -, you brought your whole face to the side of his neck, ignoring the wet tips of his hair drawing transparent trails on your skin as you began to suck and lick and moan right under his ear; his cock jumped inside his pants, begging for attention that you were more than willing to deliver.

“you little…” he breathed, placing a shaky hand on your hip while the other one dove into your night shorts. your voice trembled against his neck while his deft fingers toyed with your slippery slit, finding your clit in seconds and rubbing vicious circles in an attempt to win some high ground, by force if necessary. however, before you could fall further into the hex his fingers were casting, you forcefully detached yourself wholly and dropped to your knees in a beat, bringing his sweatpants and underwear down as you went; togame could only watch with a drying throat and a hammering heart as you lewdly began to deliver kisses to his weeping tip.

“fuck, you taste so good…” you moaned openly, delighting in savouring the mixture of freshly-showered flesh and salty precum, and a low moan caught behind your boyfriend’s gritted teeth in response to your debauchery. mercilessly, you drew wet stripes along the thick vein of the underside, and the helpless kicks of his beautifully flushed cock went straight to your empty cunt. your dominant hand flew to cup his balls, massaging gently as if coaxing something out of him: namely, the loss of his sanity or a thick load onto your tongue, whichever one came first.

eventually, one of his hands arrived at the back of your head, threading thick fingers through your bed hair, but they weren’t demanding as much as they were grounding. you felt togame pry his legs slightly more apart, calloused hand petting your head in a way that felt like reverence.

“fuuuuck.” even when his heart was racing, his speech remained languid, and if you didn’t know better  he would have sounded almost in control. “you’re always so good to me,” he praised, and it earned him a generous attempt at fitting his whole dick into your mouth; if he thought the noise you made when he hit the back of your throat was undignified, he didn’t comment on it, and instead rewarded your eagerness with an appreciative groan. “‘m not gonna last long if you keep this up, pretty.”

coming from a guy who boasted limitless stamina, this statement made your body buzz with pride and desire; heck, who wouldn’t pat themselves on the back a little if a man who could go at it (fights and… otherwise) for hours was about to cream their throat after a few minutes of sucking cock? instead of encouraging him with words, you doubled down on your efforts, covering as much of his pulsing cock as you could with your awaiting mouth. your hands had long been bracing onto his strong thighs, and every little flex you felt underneath tasted like a small victory. your lower face was soaked with spit and togame, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you felt his fingers twitching against the nape of your neck and his legs seize up.

“f-fuck, fuckfuck, shit, i’m coming! god, you’re so good, sucking me dry... swallow my fucking load, please, please, oh f-uck!” not like you needed to be told once, but his desperate ramble had you lapping up his cum twice as greedily, enjoying the headiness of nearly being choked on dick while togame took his sweet time, as he often did, riding his climax. after what felt like an eternity, you took his soft dick out of your mouth, delivering farewell kisses onto his overstimulated tip. you eyed him from your spot between his legs and felt the surge of slick pool onto your shorts when you found his half-lidded eyes staring uninterruptedly at you.

“thanks for breakfast, jo,” you cooed, showing him your empty mouth in a lewd display.

“breakfast, huh?” faster than you could process, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the counter, rather than kneeling on the floor. the mug of tea was still releasing billowing puffs of steam, but you had a feeling -if togame’s eyes peering up at you from between your legs were anything to go by- that by the time he was done with you, he would need to remake his precious beverage. slowly pulling the waistband of your soaked shorts down your thighs, he rumbled lowly: “then it’s only fair i get my share…”

[zyart-jpg]

Red Flags and Racing Hearts

Pairing: Vinny Hong x Reader (Self-Insert/OC-Insert)

Tags: Reader as Jay Jo's older sister, slow burn, canon divergent

Summary: "Detached"—that’s how your peers often described you. Not unfriendly, not cold… just distant. Reserved.

You weren’t the type to laugh too loud or join in on group chats filled with emojis and inside jokes. You were firm, rules-oriented, the kind of person who always had a schedule and stuck to it. But detached didn’t mean unfeeling. Especially not when it comes to your family.

Not when it came to your younger brothers.

A/N; Might not post the chapters on tumblr consistently because it's a work on my Ao3, the link is on the title!

Edit: 19 chapters out on AO3!

It was as noisy as ever along the corridors, despite it being well into class hours.

The low hum of chatter, bursts of laughter, the occasional ringtone, and the muffled bass of music leaking from too many shared earphones bled into each other, creating a constant background buzz that was hard to ignore. Even with a snug pair of headphones over your ears, blasting a monotone lecture on thermodynamics from a professor who clearly had no passion for public speaking, the commotion still wormed its way into your awareness.

You tried to stay focused, eyes locked on the half-finished practice equation sprawled across your workbook, but voices cut through the ambient noise—clearer, sharper, laced with that distinct tone people used when gossip was just too good to keep to themselves.

“Aren’t these kids familiar?”

“Pretty sure that’s Dom Kang, right? Not surprising, honestly.”

“It’s kinda blurry, but isn’t that the student council president in the corner?”

“Look at them go! Must be nice to not have an entrance exam looming over your head.”

Your eyes flicked up. Just beyond your desk, a small crowd of students had gathered, huddled around a glowing phone screen. Some were standing on tiptoe, others craning their necks, all of them absorbed in whatever was playing on the device.

Student council president?

You tugged your headphones down to rest around your neck, letting the droning lecture fade into a low background hum. Your curiosity, reluctantly piqued, dragged your attention away from the workbook as you glanced around, trying to get a better look.

Then came the teasing jab.

“Oh, yo! Weren’t you last year’s student council president? Looks like your successor’s a bit of a delinquent, huh?”

You turned toward the voice—a guy from your class, grinning wide like he’d just dropped the punchline of a joke. A few others chuckled around him, watching your reaction as they angled the phone so you could see too. You blinked, brows tugging together in confusion. Without a word, you rose from your seat, and the group instinctively parted to let you in.

“What is it?” you asked, your tone cool and clipped—stern in a way your classmates had grown used to over the years.

One of them glanced up. “There’s this video going around—some fight that blew up overnight. Kids from Sunny High are in it. You can tell from the uniforms.”

“They’re brawling with students from Gunn Technical High, I think,” another added.

Your gaze dropped to the screen. It was shaky, probably filmed on someone’s phone in secret, the angle jumping as the cameraman tried to stay hidden. But even through the blur, your eyes locked onto one figure—familiar posture, familiar hair, and unmistakable uniform.

“That’s the student council president?” you asked flatly.

“Yeah. He’s been hanging out with those two other guys lately—Dom Kang and Minu Yoon, right? They're pretty hard to miss.”

You straightened without a word, offering a simple nod and a quiet “Thanks.” You made your way to the front of the classroom and began scribbling on the board, adjusting the schedule with quick, practiced strokes. Then you tapped the board sharply, drawing everyone’s attention.

“First period’s delayed. You’ve got thirty more minutes of homeroom and then thirty minutes of self-study. Do whatever you want, but nobody leaves campus. Understood?”

There was a collective groan, some quiet muttering, and a few lazy nods. The usual. But your gaze lingered briefly on the video still playing behind you, lips pressed into a thin line.

When lunch finally rolled around, you didn’t waste time. You walked out of your classroom and made your way toward the 2nd year wing, ignoring the occasional greeting or side-eyed glance thrown your way. You weren’t in the mood for pleasantries.

You stopped in front of Class 2-1.

“Jay Jo.”

You said his name firmly as you scanned the room from the doorway, eyes darting from face to face. But the familiar mop of black hair and bored expression was nowhere to be seen.

You turned to the nearest student. “Where is Jay?”

The kid startled, flinching a bit at your tone. “Ah, um—he was called to the principal’s office earlier... and then he left campus.”

“They were suspended,” another piped up, hesitantly. “Him and the other two. Uh... sunbae.”

You frowned, a sigh escaping your lips before you turned and walked off, pulling your phone from your pocket. You scrolled to his name, hit call, and waited.

One ring. Two. Four.

Then it stopped.

Declined.

You lowered the phone slowly, eyes narrowing as irritation bubbled beneath your skin.

“That little—” you muttered, but stopped yourself short, letting out another sigh instead. There wasn’t much you could do about it now. So you turned on your heel and headed back to your own classroom.

The incident, despite the early flare of interest and frustration, eventually faded from your mind. You had a routine—structured, demanding, and comfortingly familiar. Study guides. Review packets. Mock exams. Essay practice.

It was easier to drown in the noise of preparation than to bother thinking about the mess others left behind.

–

"Detached"—that’s how your peers often described you. Not unfriendly, not cold… just distant. Reserved.

You weren’t the type to laugh too loud or join in on group chats filled with emojis and inside jokes. You were firm, rules-oriented, the kind of person who always had a schedule and stuck to it. But detached didn’t mean unfeeling. Especially not when it comes to your family. 

Not when it came to your younger brothers.

Which is why, for the past few days, you’d been lighting up your brother’s phone with a steady stream of texts—questions, warnings, demands for an explanation about the suspension you'd heard secondhand. Not one had been read. Let alone answered.

You sighed, staring down at yet another string of “delivered” messages left untouched. With a groan, you leaned back from your tiny desk, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as the dull ache in your head throbbed in protest. The desk was squeezed into the corner of your one-bedroom dorm room—a temporary space you’d moved into at the start of the school year to focus on college entrance prep. Cramped, quiet, and entirely functional. Just like you.

You glanced at the time, sighing as you pushed yourself up from the chair with a slow stretch, joints cracking in a way that made you grimace. Hit with a thought about how a cushion for the seat might be a worthwhile investment if you planned to keep burning the midnight oil in the same spot every day.

The headache still buzzed faintly at the edge of your skull, but you pushed it aside and moved through your usual routine—washing up, brushing back stray strands of hair into a neat bun, pulling on something clean and neutral. A short list of errands prepped into your notepad, the only real break in your otherwise monotonous schedule. You had just enough time to get them done before you have to go and sit through another lecture for dinner.

As always, no matter how messy things got, the rest of the world didn’t slow down for anyone. Not even for siblings who wouldn’t return your calls.

You’d always been naturally introverted—quiet, reserved, with a studious streak that seemed to be ingrained in you and your siblings from the start. It wasn’t that you struggled with people. Socializing had never been a real issue; you knew how to carry a conversation, how to smile when it was appropriate, how to fit in when necessary.

But keeping your distance? That was a choice.

You maintained that space not out of awkwardness or disdain, but as a way to stay focused—focused on your goals, on the expectations your parents had quietly (and not-so-quietly) carved into your life. Letting yourself get too close, too distracted, always felt like inviting trouble. And trouble was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

So while your peers formed cliques, whispered secrets, and built their chaos of friendships and heartbreaks—you stayed on the sidelines. Not quite alone. Just deliberately apart.

You murmured a quiet thank-you to the cashier before stepping out of the bookstore, a modest bag of supplies swinging lightly from one hand. With the other, you scrolled through your phone, eyes flicking over your checklist as you mentally mapped out the rest of your errands.

Your gaze drifted upward, scanning the populated mall out of habit rather than curiosity, idly searching for something—anything—that might catch your attention. Maybe, if luck was on your side, you’d stumble across something to momentarily pull you out of the study-loop you lived in.

A soft hum left your lips as a memory surfaced—your youngest brother had asked for something the last time you actually visited your family home. A plush cat, wasn’t it? You sighed quietly, debating whether you could juggle another purchase without overloading your already-packed tote. Probably not the wisest idea... but maybe.

Your thoughts were abruptly cut short by a sharp, malicious scream from somewhere nearby—just a few feet ahead. Frowning softly when your eyes caught something rather disturbing and just plain disrespectful sight.

You made your way through the slowly forming crowd, weaving past murmuring onlookers until the source of the commotion came into view.

An elderly woman was kneeling on the floor, head bowed low in apology. In front of her stood a younger woman—furious, loud, and entirely unbothered by the attention she was drawing.

“Are you fucking blind?! Watch where you're going next time!” the woman shrieked, voice cracking with hysteria as she waved a hand in exaggerated disbelief.

“I’m so sorry, please—just forgive me this once...” the older woman begged, her voice shaking, palms pressed to the floor as she tried to appease the outburst. The sight made something in you twist uncomfortably.

You sighed and stepped forward, weaving past a few more bystanders frozen in place by secondhand discomfort.

“Miss,” you called out, your voice steady but firm, worn smooth by years of leading student meetings and mediating disputes. “Please calm down.”

The woman’s head snapped in your direction, her expression twisting into something sharp and entitled.

“Mind your own business! I’m not setting foot in this place again unless this woman is fired,” she barked, venom in every word.

You kept your tone even, ignoring the flare of irritation prickling at your temple. “This seems like a minor accident. Why not handle it quietly, without putting someone on public display?” You reached down to gently help the older woman off her knees, your hand steady at her arm. “She apologized properly, did she not? and it’s not like your tights are ruined.”

The woman scoffed. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? This woman ruined my entire day! Is this how this place treats customers?”

You stepped subtly in front of the older woman as she tried to tug you back, her hands patting your arm lightly—an unspoken plea not to make it worse. Still, you stayed where you were.

“Look, if your clothes are that important, I’ll cover the cost,” you said, voice tight but polite. “But there’s no reason to humiliate someone over an accident.”

You offered calmly, exasperated already and was about to speak up again until a voice boomed from behind—

“MOM!”

The sharp voice cut through the air like a slap, drawing every head in the crowd toward its source. A  redheaded boy—no, a teen…or a man? Whatever he is—stormed toward the scene, anger clear on his face.

You blinked, brows pulling together in confusion as a flicker of quiet alarm crept in.

Wait... mom? 

You didn’t have a moment to process what was happening before the newcomer—clearly the son—snatched up a nearby mop and slammed it against the floor.

The crack echoed through the space as the handle split in two with sharp enough edges.

The fury on his face was almost feral, barely restrained as he surged forward, one half of the broken mop still in hand.

“You crazy bitch! Shut your fucking mouth!”

You flinched, a visceral reaction to the venom in his voice, the pure, unfiltered rage radiating off of him in waves. In the chaos, you hadn’t even noticed the elderly woman slip away from your side until she threw herself between him and his target, arms outstretched.

“Vinny! Stop it—what are you doing?!” she cried, struggling to hold him back, her hands clutching at his shirt as he thrashed against her.

He wasn’t listening, still seething, his glare fixed on the woman and her equally stunned companion. His whole body buzzed with barely-contained violence, the broken mopstick still clenched like a weapon.

You stood frozen for a beat, heart hammering. The situation had escalated so fast you barely had time to catch your breath. And now, with family involved and tempers flaring past the point of no return, it felt wrong—too intrusive—to step in again.

The mother and son were locked in a heated exchange, their voices clashing in a chaotic mess of pleading and raw fury. The son—Vinny—screamed with reckless anger, his words cutting through the air without a shred of restraint or respect.

You stayed rooted where you were, the weight of the situation sinking in. What had started as a public disturbance had spiraled far beyond anything you could reasonably handle. And with no mall security or staff in sight, it was now just a crowd of silent onlookers.

It became a vicious loop: Vinny’s shouting, the woman’s arrogant retorts, more insults hurled like grenades with no regard for the emotional wreckage left behind. It didn’t seem like it would end—until it did.

A sudden shift. A gasp.

Then, the older woman staggered, her face contorting in pain before she collapsed to the ground with a choked breath and one final, desperate plea for her son to calm down.

You curse under your breath, instincts kicking in. Without thinking, you dropped your shopping bags and rushed to her side, falling to your knees beside her.

“Ma’am—!” you started, but her body had already gone stiff, her limbs trembling uncontrollably.

Vinny was at her side a second later, panic carved deep into his face.

“She’s having a seizure!” you shouted, already moving. You carefully turned her onto her side, loosening the collar of her uniform around her neck and adjusting her posture to keep her airway clear.

“Mom!”

MASTERLIST

[4doras]

SECRET SANTA ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

an unknown person keeps sending you gifts, who could it be? ⊹♡

yuma x reader

genre. fluff (lowercase intended)

wc. 1.2k

a/n. first andteam fic, i hope this is as good as you guys expected~ also the yuma pic fuelled this whole thing, he looks so cute omg (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

warning for mentions of death jokes!

at first, you thought it was a game of ding-dong-ditch. that was until you saw a gift sitting outside your door. it was a box— nicely covered with wrapping paper with cats and sharks on it, adorned with a small note on top.

you looked left and right for anyone who could’ve given this present, though it must’ve been a magician, considering no one was on either side.

“for: y/n, i hope you enjoy december. from: big cat” was what was written on the note. big cat? who was ‘big cat’? it was hard enough to think about who would have sent you this, even harder was thinking about someone you knew who could represent a cat.

you hastily picked up your phone, fingers basically shooting holes through the screen with how aggressively you typed.

“did any of you guys send me a present?” pressing enter, you send it to your friends: nicholas, maki, fuma, taki, harua, ej, k, and jo.

“nope, not me. i’m broke.” nicholas instantly replied.

“it’s from ‘big cat’… who’s big cat?…” you had your suspicions on nicholas, especially because you always thought he represented the face of a cat, but you remembered his financial state. surely he couldn’t have bought you a present.

the rest of your friends defended themselves, all collectively saying no.

“you have a secret admirer, y/n!” you could hear haruas giggles through the screen.

more under the cut!

“be quiet, haru.” followed by a string of rolling eye emojis.

you gently tore the wrapping paper as if it would hurt the person, and pulled the box out, recognising it as a prada box. your jaw immediately dropped.

“okay guys… who sent the prada box…” you had to re-type the sentence almost four times because of how illegible the typos were.

“PRADA??” all your friends were astonished by the brand, you could imagine their shocked faces.

you were rethinking everything now. did you have a stalker? how could the ‘cat’ know that you’ve wanted the bag for so long? you always told your friends about how much you needed a prada bag, and how you would ‘die’ if you didn’t get it. but fear not, you wouldn’t be dying anytime soon.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

after the first gift, you thought you wouldn’t get another. maybe one on christmas day, but not one everyday.

your new found collection of very expensive gifts grew, and grew. of course, you appreciated the gifts, and how well suited they were for you, everything somehow embodied you, but you just wished you knew who sent the gifts to you. you’d want to meet the sender over any gift.

little did you know that day would come soon.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

a familiar voice rang from behind you, harua. “y/n! wanna go out with the guys for christmas? plus, you can meet our new friend.” a sly grin formed on his face at the end of his sentence, one that wasn’t just happy to see you. though, you would usually reject anyone’s offer who had that sort of unsettling expression, you accepted his invite.

you woke up to snow falling from the sky, a beaming layer of snow covering the ground, the air was replaced with the sweet smell of gingerbread men, it was the perfect christmas morning.

“about to leave, see you guys in a while!!” you quickly sent a text to your friends before leaving, not before grabbing your scarf, and wrapping it round your neck.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

a hand waved up in the air of the cafe, catching your attention, then noticing it was haruas. you scurried over to the table, greeting all your friends, then noticed the odd one out, a boy with pink hair who you never saw before.

“i’m yuma,” the boy smiled, giving you a small wave.

“i’m y/n,” reciprocating his smile and sitting down.

as the other eight chatted together, you and yuma got to know one another better. you told yuma about yourself, and your hobbies, and yuma did the same. he was so invested to tell you about his interests— he was rambling on about every little detail. though it could’ve been annoying or boring to others, you wanted to know more about everything he said. you were completely immersed in his story that you didn’t notice that everyone had been staring at you two. “wrap it up, yuma. we have to go.” fuma was already standing up, ready to leave. “i hope i’ll see you again, y/n.” yuma bid you goodbye, as you both shared a smile. “me too, yuma.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

though you thought the christmas luck was over, the night didn't end until you got another gift. except this time the gift was a small folded note, that lay apologetic in front of your door.

even though you got your daily gift, you still felt upset because of your missed opportunity. you knew you’d love yuma from the start, but you didn’t call after him to get his number. why? your meeting might’ve been your first and last, so why did you let the moment pass? but you must get over things. your fingers lingered over the edge of the paper as you opened it. a line of numbers were the only things that filled the paper, leaving you dumbfounded. but you thankfully realised: it was a phone number.

it was odd. no words were followed by the number, nothing to tell you about the number.

you punched the numbers into your contacts list, and sent the number a text:

“who are you?”

“oh, hi y/n :)”

“merry christmas, i forgot to tell you when we met”

“we met???”

“can we meet up… again?”

“where?”

“luné park, i’ll see you there”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

usually, you wouldn’t meet up with a stranger who said that you’d already met them, especially when you didn’t have a clue who it could’ve been, but something made you want to know who it was, even when it could be a murderer.

you sat on the swings at the park, scrolling on your phone as you waited for your big cat. “y/n?” your head perked up from the sweet tone, calling your name. “yuma? what’re you doing here?” you didn’t have a clue what he was doing here, all you wanted to do was find your mystery gift sender. “i said we’d meet at luné park, right?” he giggled, his soft smile adorned on his face. “you’re big cat?” your eyes widened, only now realising that he had been sending you such lavish gifts. his hand shot behind his neck, a warm glow growing on his cheeks. “yeah…” he seemed more embarrassed now.

you couldn’t have wished it was anyone else.

you got off the swing, giving him a hug. his scent was warm, like hot chocolate. your hand crept up to his head as you played with the longer parts of his hair that felt like velvet, despite its heavy dyed colour. “but why did you send gifts to me?” you asked him after you let him go. “you don’t get it?” he pulled you back, looking you straight in the eyes. “i like you, y/n.” the air around you went still. it felt as if you and yuma were the only people on earth. somehow, you stumbled on all your words just trying to start your sentence. which made you realise you needed to have another way to show yuma that you loved him too.

you kissed him on the cheek. you had to stand on your tiptoes, holding onto yuma as you gave him a peck on the cheek. when you stood back from yuma, you saw his already existing blush grow brighter.

“be my— no, can i be your boyfriend?” he took up your hands, pleading like a puppy.

“yes, yuma.”

[33max]

I was thinking about a little fic set when Spyke dies ☹️ so tw pet death. ft the comforting presence of Gianpiero Lambiase

Max isn’t there when Spyke dies. He doesn't actually know that Spyke is sick. His Dad calls him one morning, on New Years Eve, and tells him they have had to have Spyke put down. Jos tells him that Spyke-, his legs had-, that he was was not going to make it.

So Max doesn't get a chance to say goodbye. One minute he’s oblivious, thinking his best pal is probably snuggled up with his little sister, and the next minute his best boy of 11 years is gone.

He blinks.

He blinks.

He can't cry on the phone to Jos. That's not what they do. His Dad will tut at him, tell him Spyke was just a dog. But Spyke wasn't just a dog. He was-

Max’s best friend.

So, he hangs up the phone and lets himself cry.

He looks through pictures of Spyke. Some from a recent trip home, some from when he still lived at home, and others of Spyke as a messy little puppy. Moustache overgrown and ears too big for his body.

Without thinking too much about it, he sends one of the puppy pictures to GP. Along with a broken heart emoji. Because he doesn't have the words, but he needs someone to know that he's- his world isn’t the same anymore.

The message gets marked as read, but instead of the three dots to indicate that GP is replying, Max’s phone starts vibrating in his hand. A call.

Before GP even asks, Max is sobbing down the phone. Hard. Trying to tell GP that he didn’t get to say goodbye. But between the bad connection and the tears, he’s not sure if GP even understands what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry Max, I’m so sorry, I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s ok to cry.”

And it is ok to cry in front of GP. Because GP has never once told him to grow up, to care less. Never rolled his eyes at Max for being emotional. Always stood with him, listened, and been a comforting presence. And this is no different.

It’s the winter break, so they’re not scheduled to see each other until at least early March.

But it’s 31st December, fucking New Years Eve, and Max is supposed to be going out with his friends tonight. But no. He can’t. Not tonight. Not anymore.

And GP seems to sense that Max might end up spending midnight by himself, alone in Monaco, after losing his best friend. So he says “Hey, Maxy, why don't you come over here? We’re going to play some board games, watch the fireworks, and have a family night. You're family. Join us.”

So Max flys to Milton Keynes, and instead of going to the factory, he gets a cab to GP’s family townhouse.

When GP opens the door he cries a little into GP’s shoulder before wiping his eyes and greeting the rest of the family. They know him well. He’s been coming here since he was freshly eighteen.

And when they sit down that evening GP’s collie, Ella, jumps into Max’s lap. She noses at his hand until he runs his fingers through her fur, and then encourages him to press his head against hers.

“She knows, Max,” GP tells him. “She’s good like that.”

“He was a good boy, Ella,” Max tells her, quietly.

She looks up at him with big brown eyes, before softly bumping her nose against his cheek. I know.

“Thanks for having me, GP,” Max says, “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t come here.”

“You’re always welcome here, Max.” GP says.

“You’re family!” GP’s little girl yells, it’s past her bedtime and she’s so excited to be staying up with the adults.

“Can I get you a gin and tonic, Max?” GPs wife, Marie, adds. “You’re not driving after all!”

Spyke might not be here. But he feels at home.

maxverstappen1: My little friend is no more… rest in peace Spyke ❤️ 11 years I won’t forget… 😞❤️

[bethelighthalazia]

"Pookie"

Summary:  When your boyfriend finds out what you named him on your phone (and his younger member teases him about it).

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Woozi (Ji Hoon) x fem!reader

Additional Characters:  DK (Seok Min)

Word Count: 553

AU: Idol AU  

Warnings: tiny bit of another member teasing Woozi

networks:  n/a

notes: This is my very first fanfiction for Seventeen, I do hope i didn´t mix up names or anything. if i did, please let me know, but be kind and respectful okay? <3

other links?: n/a

© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.

You loved spending time with the boys of Seventeen, and that not only because you were a carat from the beginning, but also because your boyfriend was one of them. You knew Ji Hoon from before his trainee days, always cheering him on and supporting the path he went on, and he always wanted you by his side. Even when he was told that it might be possible that he'd have to break up with you if he wanted to become an idol, he told the others that if that were to happen, he'd just walk out of the company and find another dream that he can pursue with you by his side.

Today, the two of you were lounging on one of the sofas in the dorms, most of the other boys were out for schedules or just enjoying the day and only you, Ji Hoon and Seok MIn had stayed back in the house on their free day. Seok Min was playing a videogame while Ji Hoon and you were just cuddling, his slender fingers running gently through your hair while you were looking at the tv, joking around every time Seok Min’s character died in the game.

You just wanted to grab your phone from the coffee table when you froze in your movement; your phone was gone. Eyes wide, you turned to look at Jo Hoon, who frowned at your expression. “My phone is gone, do you have it by chance, jagi?” You asked, but Ji Hoon just shook his head no, he would never take it without asking you about it first. “I could call your phone, you have it on loud, haven't you?” He asked, to which you nodded your head yes and Ji Hoon dialed your number.

It didn't take long for Seventeen´s song ‘Maestro’ to blare through the room, this alone already made you blush slightly, but when Seok Min reached over to grab your phone that was laying underneath the pillow he sat on, you realized that this would be a horrible idea. Before you could react though, he reads the caller ID out loud, causing you to cover your face with the pillow in your arms.

“Huh, who is ‘Pookie Wookie Woozi Boo’?” Seok Min asks, an eyebrow raised as he turns around to see his older member staring at the phone in his own hand. “Oh-! Well, does it make it better that there's a heart and a blushy emoji next to it?” At this, you facepalmed, eyes wide in embarrassment as you then looked at Ji Hoon, who lowered his own phone, his face and neck blushed heavily.

“I- I can explain?” You laughed awkwardly, reaching over to take your phone from Seok Min before you turned back to Ji Hoon now, head tilted ever so slightly. “Well…I would love to know why you came up with that nickname for hyung! I mean, it fits though, but still. What´s a Pookie Wookie anyway?” Seok Min asked, by now holding his tummy from laughing hard about it. When you couldn't come up with a proper explanation, you only pointed at Ji Hoon, who couldn't hold back a laugh anymore, shaking his head about his girlfriend´s behavior, soon leaving the three of you a laughing mess in the living room of the dorms.

taglist: @mingis-mizu, @tinyelfperson, @hotteokkay, @minkilicious, @bunnliix,

@gong-fourz, @yeosangiess, @dinossaurz, @scuzmunkie, @h3arteyes4mingi,

@vnessalau, @oddracha

(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)

[totaldrama-showdowns]

FAVORITE RIVALRY SHOWDOWN FINALE

Propaganda

Heather v Leshawna: The og

Do i need to say it

Arguably the og td rivalry and what a rivalry it is

literally the start of it all. the rivalry of all rivalries even.

the girls are fighting!!!!! they coulda been bffs

NO DUH... it's the first biggest rivalry of our beloved TV show so of COURSEEE i am going to submit them!! look at them insulting each other, pushing each other off cliffs, beating each other up, gazing into each other's eyes, longing to feel the other's lips with her own- oh i said too much. anyways VOTE LESHEATHER BEST RIVALRY 2024

Her throwing Heather off the cliff is iconic

LESHEATHER SWEEP FIRE EMOJI TIMES THREE

gay as fuck to constantly fight someone and then give them your wig as a parting gift

They genuinely had one of the best rivalries in Gen 1. In Action when they came to an agreement was good as well! (THEY SHOULD HAVE STAYED ALLIANCE MEMBERS AT THE VERY LEAST)

Unfortunately tdwt forgot that these two sort of became friends in tda

IDK they are just the more iconic.

This is so iconic honestly!! ONE of the better rivals. (Glad they got along during Action though..)

They’re just so awesome. Two absolute powerhouse queens pitted against each other OMGG dude I love them. Leshawna giving Heather a beta version of her hair loss and so many other moments they had so much beef in all of the main gen1 seasons!! Also the sheer tension idk man maybe (definitely) they should kiss

Jo v Brick: Do I even need to explain? Jo and Brick are the best rivalry in the whole series. Unstopable duo

He ran backwards with earplugs just to one up her U_U

See the exchange from the beginning of Episode 2

The Best part of RotI

They're so funny together oml. Wish they had even more time together as frenemies

what does propaganda mean

that whole scene when they’re arguing about who had the better run changed my brain chemistry

When even the official compliation of Jo vs Lightning moments just gives us more Jo vs Brick ones...

The roti rivalry

They were super funny in roti and I love them with all of my heart

save me jock

JOCK!!!!! JOCK NATION RISE UP 🙌

[fkinkindagauche]

I'm going to actually do this this weekend! I have trouble switching between WIPs, so I'm only giving two options, and I'll work on one WIP Saturday, one WIP Sunday. Thanks @talanashta, @jo-harrington, and @felixir-of-moths for the tags!

Rules: Send me one of the emojis below in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences from that WIP, and post it. Feel free to request both, or to request multiples of one (or both)!

🏔️ - Twin Peaks AU

🍉 - One-shot PWP in my Gourd Love is Hard to Find (omegaverse) universe

Tagging some people who may want to join and/or send me asks! @dame-zoom-a-lot, @alwaysurvalentine, @xocowilde, @hbyrde36, @queenofshenanigans, @turinspeachjam, @pearynice, @sunflowerharrington, @tinytalkingtina, @vthx

Snippet from the Twin Peaks AU below (CW for a dead body).

Wayne Munson walked out of his trailer into the crisp February morning. He'd just arrived home from his shift at the steel mill, taking the time only to change out of his grease-covered work clothes before coming back out. Morning had always been his favorite time of day, especially in the winter. There was nothing he loved more than watching the sun rise on a frigid morning.

He walked out into the woods surrounding the trailer park, taking a familiar path to a hill that would give him a good view of the rising sun. Halfway to his destination, he tripped over a large object. It was firm and heavy, barely moving when he accidentally kicked it.

He glanced down, trying to make it out in the dim pre-dawn light. It looked almost like a rolled up rug. He bent to examine it, prodding it with his finger. Plastic, but with something squishy underneath.

Wayne's heart sped up as a horrible suspicion worked its way into his mind. Was there a person in the plastic? He dug around in his pocket, fishing out his key chain with its attached pen light. Shining it on the object, he peeled back the top of the plastic.

A young woman. Her strawberry blonde hair was streaked with dirt. Her lips were blue, her eyes open and unseeing. Wayne stood abruptly, dropping the plastic and backing away.

He ran back to the trailer, crashing through the underbrush, heedless of the noise he made disturbing the morning peace. As soon as he got back inside, he dialed the number to the sheriff's office.

"Hawkins Sheriff's Department," a bored voice said on the other line. One of the young kids Hop had hired to man the phones at night.

"Put me through to Hopper," Wayne demanded.

"Sir, it's seven in the morning. He's not in yet."

"Then put me through to his home line!" he demanded. "Tell him it's Wayne Munson, I need to talk to him!"

The girl sighed, but he heard a click as she switched to another line. After about thirty seconds, Hopper's tired and annoyed voice came over the line. "Wayne. Whaddaya want?"

"She's dead," Wayne blurted. "Wrapped in plastic."

"Whoa, slow down, Wayne," Hopper said, sounding fully awake now. "Who? Where?"

"Young girl. I don't know who she is," Wayne admitted, voice cracking. "In the woods outside the trailer park."

"You sure she's dead?" Hopper asked.

"She's blue, Hop. She ain't movin'."

"Fuck," Hopper muttered on the other line. "I'll be right over. Don't touch anything."

[respectthepetty]

Who is Jo?

It's only the fifth episode of The Trainee but I feel confident about who is the Blue Boy since I learned more about him this episode.

Ryan is a chill Green Guy who helps everyone including Pie in the very beginning of the episode by changing the copy paper and helping her. This hasn't changed.

Pie is still being her red passionate self now that she is assistant director for the music video.

Pah is still the yellow and orange odd one out.

Judy is still a sophisticated Black Brooder, and Mee is an evolving Pink Person.

(who gives her crushes pink donuts, so can Judy get one already?)

But the focus of this episode and post is about Jane!

We got to know more about him, and my original theory about him seems to be correct because I believed Jane was the Blue Boy since he seems cold and distant but everyone overlooks how dependable and loyal he is.

And once Ryan steps into Jane's apartment, it becomes even more clear that nobody really knows (Blue Boy) Jane.

(Sidenote, to be honest, I'd be Purple Person Ja, and not just because of the hair. I have beef with authority figures for no good ass reason. I need no reasons to dislike management, supervisors, admin, or anyone with power, so I ain't mad at her for talking shit about Jane every chance she gets)

Not only are Jane's curtains that shut out the rest of the world in the apartment that he intentionally selected since it's so close to his job blue.

But Ryan learns that Jane doesn't eat spicy food after Jane makes Ryan dinner in his blue pot.

And much like Pie's red bag, Mee's pink purse, and Ryan's green tote, Jane's bag has blue on it.

But what makes me really believe Jane is a Blue Boy is his behavior.

It seems like Jane has a box of shooting schedules (or storyboards) right at his front door that Ryan has to push a bit to get through, which much like the location of his apartment reinforces that his job is his life. (unless those are bills, then those bills look odd, and boy is about to be evicted)

Jane's movies are in alphabetical order (however, he alphabetizes "The" which should not be done because article adjectives a, an, and the should be omitted in alphabetizing, but . . . it's his personal collection, so do you, boo boo)

His album collection seems to be displayed by color connection (black, white, red) since I spotted Kodaline's 2022 album Our Roots Run Deep, Coldplay's 2002 album A Rush of Blood to the Head, and the 1980s Japanese rock band, Southern All Stars' Tiny Bubbles.

And the real kicker is Jane's favorite movie seems to be Mary is Happy, Mary is Happy, which is a Thai film about a creative girl who has to go up against her power-driven headmaster to get the yearbook produced as she encounters all the chaos that comes along with being a teenager.

And even his coworker (boss?) stated that Jane has the director's eye but he had a bad experience as an intern. Jane is talented yet guarded, which is very Blue Boy of him! Also, this book is free in the Archive and amazing!

So even though Tae has a blue phone and his blue headphones with a blue emoji heart to match Mee's pink heart as a he thinks of her with a pink background,

My money is on Jane being the Blue Boy since taking care of a Green Guy comes natural to him.

But the real point of this post is to ask "Who is Jo?" Is he the boss? A helpful office worker? Both? Because he is the only one who interacts with all the staff and actually notices all of them. He knew Pah was Pah when he was pretending to be Tae. He realizes Judy is amazing. He knows where the number for the copier tech is. He takes care of the fish.

Is he the original Ryan?!

[hurlumerlu]

Thicker than

A short THK fic (AO3)

"I’ll explain later," said Kant, something Babe knew to translate by I’ll wait for you to forget about it. He didn’t see how he would, this time. "For now, just tell me you understood."

"I understood."

"So if Bison asks if you’re alright?"

"I say I managed to hide, and you found me before the bullies did."

"Good. Now tell it to me in different words."

"You know this isn’t my first lie, right? You don’t have to coach me through it."

"Humor me."

"I outran them and hid before you arrived."

"Good." Kant repeated. He wasn’t slowing down and it put Babe on edge: his brother never rushed, or more accurately never let it show when he did. Everything had been off since he’d asked for that phone call.

"What if I don’t play along?" That stopped Kant. When he turned, Babe almost took a step back. "I was only jo–"

"I’m sorry," Kant interrupted, "and it’s the last time I ask you something like this. But promise me you’ll lie."

"Yeah, okay. I’m not, like, allergic or any–"

"Promise me, Babe."

"I promise. You’ll explain later?"

"Sure. Come on, he must be there already."

The night got even weirder after that.

"Here’s what I still don’t get, though" said Babe. "You like him."

Kant sighed. "This ain’t really about me." A serious contender for Most Kant Answer Ever, though Babe hadn’t heard it in a while.

He set the dry plate on top of the others. "I think he likes you too."

"Believe it or not" – Kant was scrubbing a little too energetically. Babe had painted that glass when he was eight and, ugly as it was, his brother always washed it with the utmost care – "it ain’t really about him either."

That was a new one. Babe took the glass from Kant’s hand and rinsed it himself. "Who is it about, then?" Wet spoons were handed out to him without so much as a look. He hadn't even finished drying the glass. "Is this when you tell me that whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it for us?"

"You told me to stop saying that."

Babe remembered that argument. Of course, what he’d actually wanted was for his brother to stop thinking that way, but he’d thought that had been clear. Maybe it had been. He should still have been clearer.

"Are we not going to talk about the gun at all?"

"He’s had a rough life, you know." Kant replied in his worst parent-teacher meeting voice. "He just needs to unlearn a few things."

Babe gave up.

don’t wait 4 me tonite, said the text. leftovers in the fridge. If u want 2 invite Knot cool but no alcohol

Bison again? Babe texted back. He might not get an answer, but that wasn’t a reason not to try.

Well. A victory sign emoji was an answer, he supposed.

Where are you going?

😎.

Typical. Babe had read the work of some master wordsmiths, but he would never not be impressed by his brother’s ability to convey Mind your business without a word.

Have fun, then. If that’s indeed the goal.

In a true feat of human communication, the next 😎 he received felt even more pointed.

"Ah," said Kant. "You’re here."

"Sorry." Babe blinked against the flood of light. "Gave my bed to Knot. I didn’t think you’d come home tonight." Kant’s sheets didn’t smell like him – he had changed them this morning – but there was an undeniable comfort to sleeping in his room. And it was miles better than laying awake next to Knot, wondering what amount of incidental contact you could get away with before you fell into creep territory. "You had a good time?"

"Hm."

Kant hadn’t moved, fingers still on the lightswitch. He was, technically, looking at Babe. It didn’t feel like he was looking at anything at all.

Babe got up, feet against the cool floor. "Kant?" But he couldn’t ask are you okay: Kant always replied yes. "Is Bison alright?"

When he got pulled into a hug, Babe didn’t resist. He had so many questions, the list ever growing, yet with his brother clinging to him like this – like he hadn’t done in years, like it would be the last time, like a drowning man struggling to stay afloat – he knew he wouldn’t voice any of them.

He closed his eyes, inhaled, and clung back.

[rizzkisworld]

Hey,

I don't know if your asks are open or not, so I am so sorry if I am bothering you!

I just watched &Team at the MAMA awards this year, and I was wondering your thoughts on &team seeing their S/O on the red carpet and it's the first time they have seen them dressed up.

- 🪼

Hello! My asks are open and you're not bothering me at all 🫶🏽🫶🏽

K

K can't keep his eyes off of you. He's exchanging glances at you every chance he gets. He better hope dispatch ain't around cause he's finna be making it extremely obvious. Cue EJ gently whacking K's arm to gather his attention. He's gonna be texting you all through out the night to tell you how good you looked. (Maybe you should dress like this around him more often 🤔)

Fuma

Fuma is gonna need self-control. His partner? Looking this good? On the red carpet? Fuma isn't so obvious with his staring, but anyone who was carefully watching his eyes would notice. Probs gonna take you out for dinner at a restaurant just to see you dress up like this again.

Nicholas

Nicholas is a wild card. He's either really obvious or really discreet. As the fashion king himself, he takes his time admiring your outfit. The colors, if it compliments your body, the way it was made. I'm here to proudly tell you that you've received the fashion kings approval!! Takes you shopping for some clothes the next day and picks out some dresses/suits.

Eujoo

EJ thinks that he's not obvious at all..... But the tiktoks say otherwise...... You got half of the comments saying "EJ was totally staring at Y/n." And the other half saying "You guys, he was just looking around y'all are making stuff up 🙄" (may or may not be basing this part off of a tiktok I saw about EJ....) Nicho teases the mess out of EJ about it later, but can we blame him for staring? You just looked very good that's all.

Yuma

Yuma gets very smiley seeing how good you look. Thinks he's not obvious pt2. He thinks his face isn't readable at all, but the big smile on his face while looking at you says otherwise.

Jo

Jo is definitely the most discreet one. His face is straight, but his mind is malfunctioning. If someone's talking to him he ain't hearing a thing! All he's paying attention to is you and how great you look.

Harua

Gets very smiley pt2. Harua stares at you in awe. It feels like he's seeing heaven on earth because wow... His partner looks so good. He's kind of in the middle of discreet and obvious. Some people thinks he's smiling just because it's kind of his nature. Others notice that his eyes are on you.

Taki

Taki's jaw hits the ground! Thinks he's not obvious pt3. He really thinks he's playing it cool, but he's not. He actually has to force himself to keep his eyes off of you. I mean like he's refusing to look at you otherwise he's gonna just stare and watch your every move. He also gets quite shy when you walk past.

Maki

Maki's literally becomes the heart eyes emoji. He's also in the middle of discreet and obvious. He's able to play it off as if he wasn't looking at you, but he is blinded by your beauty. Texts you a whole lot after the red carpet to shower you in compliments.

I feel like this was kind of bad, but I hope you like it anon!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him. 

‘Your aunt is very nice.’ 

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen. 

‘Why r u doing this?’ 

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case. 

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies. 

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I'll be right back.” 

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear. 

‘You followed me.’ 

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you? 

‘More than once.’ 

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading. 

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's… 

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad. 

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts. 

‘Looks like you are.’ 

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you? 

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on. 

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through. 

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.” 

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.” 

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.” 

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.” 

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous. 

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight. 

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up. 

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk. 

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house. 

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...” 

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape. 

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--” 

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--” 

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers. 

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--” 

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.” 

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.” 

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...” 

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you. 

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret. 

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.” 

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.” 

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.” 

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat. 

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck.