#soup shut up challenge

[thesoupisburning]

toriel definitely fought in the war btw like no way she's that strong AND knew the king and wasn't like. a general or something. and it's awesome and she's awesome

[thesoupisburning]

NO NO NO NO I CANT LET LOVE WIN [guy who understands the premise of the poll]

GOD PLEAESE

@ratbefriender come HERE you need to help me for the love of god

Controversial Character Tournament Round 1: Jean-Heron Vicquemare from Disco Elysium

[hilacopter]

the amount of people who shut down any argument with "i ain't reading all that" or "shut up (insert problematic term here)" and think it makes them look intelligent and mature

[hamletthedane]

watching University Challenge is like Hi my name is Frederick and I’m from Waddle-to-Town in Blackberryshire and I’m reading for a D-Phil in classics.

…and then they proceed to demolish a dozen questions in a row about the biochemistry of elm tree bark

[worksby-d]

omg evie loves wood soup asmr

YOURE JUST LIKE MOMMY BABY 🥰

[thesoupisburning]

i just reblogged this, but realized i had smth to add

i think this is part of why i love apotheosis so much, even as it is half-baked. youve just come out of killing yourself due to lack of options, the tower has tormented you, taken control of the narrator, taken control of the narrative, and yet, you continue. you are going to witness the end of days, that's for certain. your voices tug at you back and forth, this narrator cuts the shit, and she wakes. you are given two choices. that is all. and of those two choices. one ofthem is to finally, easily, with one click, commit to the bit against the world ender herself.

um anyways i just think the progression is neat i always cry a lil when iplay it

I think the reason the Tower route always felt more linear than the others, to the point where it kind of grated on me, is that you don't really get any (Explore) options with her. I think you might get one point where you're allowed to stall, but besides that you have to respond to her as you go and don't get to meander. Even the Beast princess, who is actively trying to eat you, lets you chat a bit on your own terms between attempts.

And this is actually pretty cool and fitting with the chapter itself! Despite how powerful the Princess gets, the world is almost always running on your own terms. You get to decide what she becomes. You get to choose when to act, and when to ask a whole bunch of questions that don't progress anything. You're the one with the power, even if it doesn't always amount to a whole lot.

But the Tower takes that all away. She's the only Princess who can actually restrict your choices in real time—the Moment of Clarity takes away far more options, to be sure, but she has to wear you down to get to that point. The Tower just gets to decide right there that you aren't allowed to exercise all your free will. She's the one making decisions, now, or at least some of them. She's the one asking the questions this time. You gave her part of your agency, and she has no intention of handing it back.

[luveline]

i just bought the actual cutest spider-man hoodie and now i’m thinking about peter seeing reader wearing spider-man merch !!! <333

The thwack is telling. You hear the splat and your heart jumps out of your chest, that weird wet sound against red-brick wall, and then you realise what it means and start to panic. 

“Hey, woah woah woah!” Peter says, jimmying open your bum window with a too-strong hand. “It's just me, don't panic.” 

You clamber off of the desk chair you're in and rush into the bathroom. 

“Hello?” 

“Two seconds!” you shout, closing the door hard behind you. You can hear the light pad of Peter's footsteps on the floor from the window, but after that he must disguise the weight of them, and you're doubly startled by his knock. “Two seconds, Peter.” 

“Uh… no?” 

You look around frantically. “What do you mean, no?” 

“You're freaking out? Let me in? Like, right now?” 

“None of those were questions.” 

Peter starts to rattle your door handle. “I'll break it!” he threatens, his voice in that funny place where he's joking but not, the same tone he uses to mess with bad guys who underestimate him. You're being teased. 

You pull your shirt over your head just as he opens the door. “Hey, turns out it wasn't locked.” He blinks at you. “Um. Hello to you, too? This isn't the welcome I was expecting.” 

“Cut the smarm. I got, uh. Soup on me.” 

“Soup.” 

You nod fiercely. “So much soup.” 

“You know I'd smell it, right?” he asks, his hair damp with sweat, the mask stuffed in the pocket of his suit and threatening to fall out as he grabs your shirt. His reflexes are too fast to stop him, as he anticipates your movements before they truly happen. 

You stand there in your teeny vest top, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at any spot that isn't his face as he throws out your shirt and takes in the graphic design on the front. 

He looks between you and the shirt smiling like a fool. He laughs, and he tilts his head one way then the other before laughing again. 

“What's so funny?” you challenge. 

“Put this back on,” he says back, matching your demanding tone. “Right now.” 

“No way.” 

“Put it on! You're indecent. Here, I'll help.” 

It's not funny how quickly you lose, shrieking and pushing backwards into the shower as Peter tries to force your arms through the shirt. You laugh as he grabs you and he knows he can keep going, pushing the shirt over your head and his knee between your thighs, and suddenly you've got Spider-Man's emblem on your chest again, the end of the shirt bunched above your stomach. You're both breathless from the scuffle. He stares at your merch. 

“My eyes are up here.” 

“Shut up,” Peter says just as quickly, kissing you hard. A rough and short thing, the glove of his suit on your naked hip. You breathe out in a rush and kiss back, not feverish but getting there, never not happy to feel the seam of his lips parting against yours. He yanks back, “Is this–” 

You kiss him again before he can ask if it's alright. You like a good fight, and it's hard for him to make fun of you for the shirt when you're kissing. He kisses you long enough to make you dizzy, thumb under the hem of your embarrassing apparel. 

He brings his hand to his mouth to bite off his glove and hits the shower with his elbow, a rain of droplets falling from the head like shards of ice down the back of his neck. He pulls away, blinking, and you laugh at his misfortune tauntingly.

“Cold night in Queens?” you ask. 

He wipes at his neck. “Warm for you. You are never taking it off. Never.” 

“What, you like it?” you ask. 

“Just enough to chase you into the bathroom, yeah.” 

“Friendly neighbourhood pervert,” you say happily. 

He wipes his wet hand down your bare stomach. “And his number one fan.” 

[poetic-vulgarity]

ᎮᎥᏖᎩ ᎮᏗᏒᏖᎩ III- Kim Minjeong x Reader

Word Count: 8K

Prompt: When Minjeong transferred to an elite school, she didn't expect to catch the attention of Y/N, the golden girl. Then again, she also didn't expect Y/N to be the root of all her misery.

Tags: slow burn; angst; drama; high school! AU; richgirl!Y/N; happy happy happy

Part I, Part II, Part III

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Y/N was ignoring Minjeong.

That much was clear.

It started right after Christmas break— texts left on read, calls unanswered. At school, Minjeong would call out to her in the hallways, only for Y/N to pick up her pace and disappear. In class, she’d put on her headphones, focused on anything but Minjeong.

It was suffocating.

The only time their eyes met was by accident— across a crowded hallway or the cafeteria. And even then, Y/N would look away so fast, Minjeong started wondering if she was imagining it.

At first, Minjeong was just confused, racking her brain for what had changed. Before break, everything was fine. Better than fine. Y/N had come over for Christmas. They exchanged gifts. They hugged. Y/N kissed her cheek.

What the hell happened?

She tried to talk to her. Again and again.

"Hey, can we—"

"Move."

Y/N brushed past her without even looking.

Minjeong stood there, speechless, watching her go.

And it happened every time.

She’d reach out, and Y/N would shut her down—effortlessly.

So effortlessly, in fact, that over time, Minjeong noticed others mirroring the behavior.

It started slow.

Glances in class, shoulders knocking into hers in crowded hallways. Then it spread to teachers. When Minjeong raised her hand, they called on anyone else—even when no one else had a hand up. In gym, no one picked her for teams, and the teacher straight-up told her, "Sit this one out." Once or twice would’ve been fine, but five or six times? 

Minjeong felt like a ghost but at least she still had Jimin, Ning, and Yunjin.

"She's a viper. I bet she's turning everyone against you," Jimin huffed in the bathroom one day— right after a student accidentally spilled a bowl of soup on Minjeong.

Accidentally.

She grimaced, running a wet paper towel over her soaked uniform. Her shoes were a mess, and she was pretty sure there was soup in her hair.

Looking up, she caught Jimin’s frustrated expression and felt the heaviness in her chest.

"This is ridiculous," Jimin grumbled.

Minjeong felt a lot of things— anger, sadness, confusion. But one feeling stood out the most.

"I just don’t understand why she's doing this. Everything was fine."

Jimin met her gaze, reaching up to nudge a strand of hair from Minjeong’s eyes. It was an endearing gesture— one that should’ve made her swoon.

But all she could think about was Y/N doing the same thing.

"I told you how Y/N is," Jimin said. "She probably felt bitter that you figured her out so she made you to like her, only to turn everyone against you."

Minjeong chewed on her bottom lip.

It made sense.

Y/N never liked anyone seeing the real her. Maybe this was revenge. Maybe it just was another game.

Maybe Minjeong had figured Y/N out from the start, and Y/N saw it as a challenge.

Was she even sorry for her father’s actions?

Or was that just an excuse to win her over?

Minjeong felt paranoid. How the hell was she supposed to know what was real and what wasn’t?

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she barely noticed Jimin cupping her cheek.

"Minjeong."

She snapped out of it, eyes flickering up to meet Jimin’s.

The other girl had stepped closer, leaning against the sink counter. Her hand lingered on Minjeong’s cheek, thumb gently brushing the corner of her mouth.

Minjeong felt her breath catch in her throat at the action.

She had expected to feel something different— her skin heating up, her heart skipping a beat. That was the norm whenever Y/N touched her like this.

But all she could think about was how soft the touch on her cheek felt.

And how much gentler it was when Y/N did it.

It wasn’t the first time she and Jimin had kissed.

Minjeong didn’t mind it. Jimin was fun. She was her friend. She was easy.

With Jimin, there was no cancer-stricken school. No mayor dad. No manipulation of feelings.

Minjeong had known she liked Y/N long before that Christmas night. But when things got too real— when she had time to pause and think about how well Y/N got along with her family— she realized she was scared.

She knew for a fact that she wouldn’t get along with Y/N’s family. She knew she’d feel the urge to vomit as soon as she looked Y/N’s father in the eye. She knew she wasn’t rich enough or up to the standards Y/N’s parents wanted for her.

But with Jimin… she was a better fit.

So she didn’t protest when the taller girl leaned down to kiss her.

Their lips were about to meet when the bathroom door suddenly swung open, making them both jump.

They quickly pulled back, faces dusted with red as they turned to the person who walked in.

Minjeong’s eyes widened.

Y/N.

She clearly hadn’t expected to see anyone there, freezing mid-step when she realized what she’d interrupted.

It was the first time they’d truly seen each other since Christmas. Or at least, the first time Minjeong was really seeing her.

Something sharp and small shot up Minjeong’s chest.

Well, there was nothing small or strange about it.

A rush of emotions took over.

It wasn’t relief at moving on from Y/N, or anger at being ignored, or even guilt for what she was doing with Jimin.

She just missed her. She missed all of her.

Y/N’s gaze flickered between them, taking in Minjeong’s disheveled clothes and messy hair.

It was the first time in weeks that she actually looked at her.

She cleared her throat and glanced away, her expression hardening as she stepped fully into the bathroom.

Minjeong could practically feel Jimin tensing beside her. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Y/N, completely forgetting Jimin was still there.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked, her eyes lingering on the remnants of soup on Minjeong’s uniform.

Her voice was cold, but something about the question still made Minjeong’s heart squeeze. 

Minjeong didn’t know how to react.

For weeks, the only word Y/N had thrown her way was "Move." And now she was suddenly asking if she was okay?

It was confusing. Frustrating.

She didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t know why her heart raced every time Y/N so much as looked in her direction.

Why was she so desperate?

What had Y/N done to her?

All those thoughts left her frozen, her mouth unable to form words fast enough.

So Jimin answered for her.

"Do you care?"

Y/N didn’t react. But Minjeong could swear she saw a flicker of annoyance in her eyes before she looked away.

Y/N checked herself in the mirror, ensuring not a single hair was out of place, that her makeup was flawless, that she looked perfect— perfect enough to throw Minjeong off. To make her regret ever betraying her in the first place.

Then, her eyes landed on the blazer of her uniform. She stiffened, flashes of Minjeong’s own uniform overtaking her mind.

Minjeong’s mouth opened to speak, but Jimin beat her to it. "You’re a shitty person, you know that?"

Y/N took off her blazer.

Jimin was already pissed from earlier, and Y/N’s indifference only made it worse. "Do you even know how much you’ve been messing her up?"

Minjeong watched as Jimin pushed off the sink and stepped between them, puffing out her chest as she glared down at Y/N.

The latter kept her eyes fixed on the mirror, barely acknowledging either of them. The lack of response just fueled Jimin’s frustration, "I’m talking to you!"

Minjeong instinctively reached out to grab Jimin’s hand, but she was ignored.

Y/N finally turned to Jimin, jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Are you that desperate?"

Jimin’s expression shifted. "Excuse me?"

She took a step closer, and for a fleeting moment, Minjeong felt herself freeze. There was something oddly familiar about Jimin’s proximity— like nostalgia was creeping in, uninvited.

Minjeong could tell Jimin was trying to appear angry, but her expression softened… it turned almost loving.

And she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Y/N looked back at her for a second, just to make sure she was really watching. That she was getting the message. 

Then, as if nothing had happened, she stepped around Jimin and handed Minjeong her blazer. "Put that on. You look like a mess."

She left the bathroom just as suddenly as she had entered, leaving Minjeong standing there, ghostlike.

Minjeong’s fingers tightened around the blazer, her gaze still locked on the door. She tried to process what had just happened, but it was like her brain refused to catch up.

And then there was Jimin—who stood just as frozen.

Minjeong found herself speaking before she could stop herself. "You still like her, don’t you?"

Jimin’s jaw clenched as she turned to face Minjeong. "That’s not—"

"That’s what this was about, wasn’t it?" Minjeong snapped, surprising even herself with the sharpness of her tone. "You became friends with me because you saw that Y/N was interested in me. You used me to get her attention."

A tense silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words.

Jimin opened her mouth, closed it, then finally found her voice. She stepped closer.

"You also used me."

Minjeong’s patience snapped. "How the fuck did I use you, Jimin?"

Jimin let out a bitter chuckle, crossing her arms. "To get over her. It’s obvious, Minjeong. I wasn’t born yesterday."

Minjeong stiffened, the weight in her chest growing heavier.

She couldn’t deny that Jimin was right.

"But I still saw you as a fucking friend, Jimin."

Jimin shrugged, brushing yet another strand of hair behind Minjeong’s ear— except this time, the touch felt infinitely different than it had minutes ago.

"We can still be friends…" Jimin said, voice quieter now. "Just back off from Y/N."

Minjeong grimaced and took a step back, out of Jimin’s reach.

"What do you mean back off?"

Jimin sighed. "Y/N and I go way back, Minjeong. You know that. We have history. I messed up when I broke up with her, and I know that, but I’m trying to fix things. I can’t have Y/N chasing you around like a lost puppy."

Minjeong’s chest heaved as she tried to keep her growing frustration in check.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she scoffed. "She hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, Jimin. She goes days without even looking at me. That doesn’t exactly sound like someone who’s chasing me."

Jimin only chuckled. "That just shows how little you actually know her, Minjeong. She’s still chasing you. She’s ignoring you on purpose, making you do the work instead. Classic push and pull."

Minjeong’s stomach twisted.

"She did the same thing to me," Jimin continued. "Made me feel special and then ignored me. It’s all part of her game."

Minjeong didn’t know what to believe anymore— especially now that she knew Jimin had her own agenda.

But she did know one thing.

She wasn’t about to let Jimin walk out of that bathroom with a satisfied smile on her face.

"So if she’s still chasing me," Minjeong said, tilting her head, "that means I’ve still got a chance with her, doesn’t it?"

Something flickered in Jimin’s eyes for a brief moment.

Then, surprisingly, she smiled— small, but genuine.

"Yeah," she nodded. "That’s fair game, I guess." She grabbed her backpack off the ground and made her way to the door. "Good luck, Minjeong!"

So the war was on.

And honestly? Minjeong was quick to realize she was in no way, shape, or form ready for it.

Because Y/N didn’t just magically start talking to her again after the bathroom incident.

She went on with her life and continued ignoring Minjeong just as efficiently as before. Nothing changed.

Well, Jimin changed.

She became more present. Clingier.

She spent her lunches glued to Y/N’s side. She bought her flowers, perfumes, clothes— everything one could think of. And she made sure everyone saw.

Very soon, students started talking about the IT couple of the school again. Minjeong overheard countless comments about how perfect Y/N and Jimin were together, how Jimin was charming Y/N all over again.

It was torturous.

And Minjeong had no idea how to fight back.

Hell, she didn’t even know if she wanted to fight back.

From the very beginning, she felt like Y/N was too much sand for her truck. Y/N’s father had ruined her life. Y/N was rich, untouchable. She was sharp, observant, and could read people like open books.

Y/N was a lot.

And Minjeong didn’t know if she could handle a lot.

At the same time, though…

"What is this?"

Minjeong’s head snapped to the side, and she barely held back an eye roll at the scene in front of her.

Jimin was in their classroom— where she didn’t even have classes— leaning against Y/N’s desk as she handed her a small, velvety box.

"Marry me."

Minjeong’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. Gasps echoed around the room as everyone turned to look.

Jimin chuckled. "I'm joking. Just wanted to give you a little gift—to remind you of me." She opened the box, revealing a gold necklace.

Y/N didn’t seem amused in the slightest. "And why would I want to be reminded of you again?"

Minjeong watched as Jimin’s face fell at the remark. She wasn’t surprised. This wasn’t the first time she had tried giving Y/N gifts, but this time, the necklace was really expensive.

And Jimin didn’t even wear gold so it's not like she could keep it to herself. 

A small part of Minjeong almost laughed, but it was quickly drowned out by the anxiety swirling in her chest.

If Y/N spoke to someone she dated like that, what the hell would she say to her?

Jimin clenched her jaw, clearly trying to keep the hurt off her face. But instead of backing down, she stepped closer to Y/N.

"Just trying to be sweet." She shrugged, keeping her tone casual. "I know you don’t want anything too flashy."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "I thought I made it clear that I don’t want anything from you."

Minjeong could see Jimin struggling to hold her frustration in check.

The tension in the room was thick.

Jimin leaned down on the desk, lowering her voice. "Come on, can’t you at least accept the gift? Please?"

Y/N shook her head. "I already have a necklace."

The room fell silent.

Minjeong’s gaze traveled down Y/N’s neck.

There, resting perfectly above her uniform, was a small, golden necklace. She had to squint to make sure she was seeing right, but then— her heart dropped to her stomach as realization hit.

That small basketball charm.

"What the hell is that?" Jimin frowned. "Looks cheap."

"So? I like it."

They stared at each other for a long moment—Jimin trying to figure out where that necklace had even come from, and Y/N daring her to say more.

Finally, Jimin scoffed, snapping the box shut. Her frustration was obvious, but so was the flicker of hurt in her eyes. "Whatever. I'm not giving up on us." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

Minjeong should’ve been worried about Jimin’s declaration.

She should’ve been annoyed by the whispers from her classmates, about how Y/N should just take Jimin back.

But she wasn’t.

Because she was still too distracted.

Still staring at Y/N.

Y/N, who was wearing her necklace.

Y/N, who suddenly turned to look at her with a knowing glint in her eyes.

And just like that, Minjeong got the message.

So well, in fact, that hours later— when school had ended and night had fallen— she found herself holding Y/N’s uniform blazer tightly as she approached the security booth of the latter’s gated neighborhood.

"Good evening."

The security guard looked up. He was standing tall, uniform pristine. "State your name and purpose of visit, please."

Minjeong swallowed hard. She could already feel her palms growing sweaty under his gaze.

She was standing in front of the security booth for one of the richest neighborhoods in the city.

She was so out of place it was almost funny.

"Kim Minjeong," she finally said, voice quieter than she wanted.

The guard nodded, face unreadable. "Purpose of your visit?"

Minjeong lifted the blazer for him to see. "I’m here to return this to Y/N. She lives here."

The guard glanced at the jacket, then hummed, typing something into his computer. After a few moments, he looked back at her.

"ID?"

Minjeong fumbled to pull out her ID card, handing it over.

He checked the numbers, typed some more, then returned it to her.

"To go through, you need formal authorization from a resident."

Minjeong’s mouth fell open. "But you just took my ID."

The guard didn’t even flinch. "To enter, you need formal authorization from a resident. Do you have one?"

"No, but I have the bla—"

He cut her off. "—Formal authorization."

Minjeong frowned, frustration bubbling inside her. What the hell was formal authorization supposed to mean anyway?

“I just need to give her the jacket,” she tried again, keeping her voice as polite as possible.

The security guard only looked at her. “Do you know who lives in this neighborhood? The mayor of Seoul. Do you understand the security risk that would exist if I just let anyone in?” His tone was slow, condescending.

It was unnerving.

Minjeong clenched her jaw. “I don’t care about that son of a bitch. I just need to talk to his daughter—who I happen to like.” Her voice grew sharper. “Come on, you saw me come in with Y/N the other day!”

"I don’t care about your little crush. The mayor lives here."

Minjeong’s patience snapped. She reached for the gate, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to open it, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “I just need to talk to Y/N!”

"And I need you to step away from the gate. Residents are trying to get in, so move aside."

But Minjeong wasn’t giving up that easily.

She ignored the guard’s warning and the low rumble of an approaching engine. “I’m not going to touch your corrupt, useless, demonic mayor—listen! I just need to talk to—”

“Minjeong?”

Her breath hitched.

That familiar, soft voice made her turn, and suddenly, the frustration in her chest melted into something else entirely.

Y/N was stepping out of a sleek, expensive car. Behind the wheel sat a man Minjeong had seen in too many newspapers.

And in too many of her nightmares.

She could have convinced herself that Y/N’s parents hadn’t heard all the demonic stuff she just spat out—but who was she kidding? Their windows were rolled down. 

Her eyes met Y/N’s, and for a moment, she didn’t care if the mayor himself was watching.

She just stared stupidly, heart pounding a little too fast.

"Hi.”

Y/N tried to fight back a smile but failed. “Hi.

"What are you doing here?” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. The slight shock on her face wasn’t lost on Minjeong.

“I…” Minjeong started, then realized she had no idea what to say. It hit her all at once— how ridiculous she must’ve looked, yelling at the gate, insulting Y/N’s family.

She cleared her throat. “I just needed to give you something.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the blazer in Minjeong’s hands. She tilted her head slightly.

The bathroom encounter had been weeks ago.

And Minjeong was returning this now?

Y/N took a few steps forward, and suddenly, Minjeong could feel her warmth, her presence, too close. It made thinking straight nearly impossible.

“You could’ve just…” Y/N started, but Minjeong blurted out before she could lose her nerve—

“Can I talk to you for a bit?” Her voice came out more desperate than she intended. “Alone?”

Y/N hesitated. Her eyes flickered back toward her parents.

Her father shrugged. "This demon isn’t going to stop you."

Y/N rolled her eyes. She could hear the teasing in his serious tone. But she knew Minjeong couldn’t.

She turned to her mother next. Tonight was supposed to be their night— her mother’s birthday, celebrated at some extravagant restaurant.

But her mother just smiled, nodding in silent approval.

“Fine.” Y/N rolled her eyes again, then turned back to Minjeong. “Come on.”

She started walking into the neighborhood without waiting to see if Minjeong was actually following.

Her parents’ car rolled past them, and she could feel their eyes on them—curious, amused.

Minjeong gulped and jogged up to Y/N’s side, matching her steps.

She looked around, taking in Y/N’s world. It wasn’t her first time there, but still, everything felt surreal—giant houses, fancy gates, guards stationed at almost every corner.

These people thought so highly of themselves, didn’t they?

"Did they spill it on purpose?"

Minjeong blinked, turning to Y/N. For a second, she just admired her side profile before snapping herself out of it.

“What?”

Y/N still didn’t look at her. “The soup. Did someone purposely spill it on you?”

The cool night air blew around them, and Minjeong shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets.

“Why are you asking?” she deflected.

Y/N finally turned her head, locking eyes with Minjeong. She had a knwoing look in her eyes, "Why did you come here today?"

Minjeong’s mouth opened—but no words came out.

Again, she was at a loss.

“I…” Her mind, which was usually so quick with sharp retorts, suddenly failed her.

Y/N took a step closer, eyes never leaving hers. "Was it on purpose, Minjeong?"

Minjeong’s throat went dry.

Because now, she wasn’t just aware of how close they were standing.

She was hyper-aware.

Y/N’s presence, her scent, the softness in her voice—it was overwhelming.

And then, Y/N leaned in slightly.

Minjeong’s heart pounded against her ribs, suddenly terrified that Y/N might hear it.

She swallowed hard.

And then, her mind flashed back—

The cafeteria. Those girls. Their smirks. The mockery in their eyes.

Minjeong clenched her fists inside her pockets.

Because yes.

It had been on purpose.

"You already know it was. Why are you asking me?"

Y/N frowned. "How would I know?"

Minjeong looked away. She didn't want to do this now, but it made sense. If they were coming clean about one thing, they should come clean about everything.

"Because you planned it."

Y/N's eyes widened. "I'm sorry?"

The words came out sharp, her voice raised a few decibels. "Why on earth would I ask some random people to—"

Minjeong scoffed, cutting her off. "I don’t know. You ignore me, the whole school ignores me. You’re mean to me, the whole school follows. Don’t tell me you didn’t plan it."

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest. The sudden accusation stung in a way she hadn't expected.

“What is wrong with you?”

Minjeong snapped her head back toward her, eyes widening. "What’s wrong with me?!"

"Yeah." Y/N stepped closer, jabbing a finger into Minjeong’s shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with you, Minjeong? I was nothing but nice to you— since the beginning! I got slapped and knocked out by a fucking basketball. Even then, I got along with your family, I did everything I could to make you like me—"

Her voice cracked.

"Then I see you kissing my ex, and now I’m the villain? Now I’m the reason people treat you like shit?"

By the time she finished, she was breathing heavily. Frustrated. Tired.

She had been so patient.

And for what?

“Nothing but nice?” Minjeong let out a hollow laugh. "All you’ve ever done is treat me like I’m a charity case!"

The cold night air burned against her flushed skin.

"And don’t you dare make this about a kiss! I can kiss whoever the hell I want! Or do you think that just because you bought me nice things, I owe you something?"

Y/N flinched, taking a step back.

She wondered why she always chose the people who made her feel most alone.

"Just go, Minjeong." Her voice was quieter now, exhausted. "I'll make sure no one else bothers you."

Minjeong felt something sharp twist in her chest.

She had wanted to hurt Y/N, but not like this.

She reached for Y/N’s hand, heart squeezing impossibly tight when the other girl turned around— eyes full of unshed tears.

"I'm sorry." Minjeong’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Y/N tried to pull her hand away, but Minjeong held on just tight enough to stop her.

Minjeong clenched her jaw, forcing herself not to break down too.

Y/N tried again, but Minjeong only held on tighter. "I mean it. I'm sorry."

Y/N looked up at Minjeong, her eyes shimmering. The sight of it made Minjeong choke on her breath.

Truth was, Y/N couldn’t hold back anymore. She was tired.

Tired of caring too much. Of trying her best only to get the worst outcome possible.

So she let herself cry.

For the slapping. For the basketball incident.

For her father.

For Jimin.

For Minjeong.

Minjeong’s heart nearly tore in two at the sight of Y/N, her small form hunched over as sobs wracked through her.

She saw the tears splattering against the pavement beneath the dim streetlight.

Without thinking, Minjeong crouched down and pulled Y/N into her arms.

It was all she could offer right now.

"You think I'm like my dad," Y/N murmured between shaky breaths.

Minjeong froze. "No," she said quickly. "No. I don't. You’re nothing like him."

She tightened her hold, hoping it would somehow make Y/N believe her.

Her heart ached. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn’t mean any of that." The words felt fragile, barely holding together. "I was just scared."

It took her a while, but, eventually, Y/N’s sobs quieted, her breathing becoming steadier.

Minjeong kept holding her. She didn’t want to let go, but the cold pavement was starting to sting, so she hesitated before gently pushing on Y/N’s shoulders, nudging her to stand up again.

Y/N’s face broke Minjeong’s heart all over again—eyes swollen, cheeks raw from crying.

Minjeong lifted a hand, gently wiping away a lingering tear.

"Scared of what?" Y/N asked, voice hoarse.

Minjeong’s hand paused against her cheek.

This was it.

No more running.

“Of how you make me feel." Minjeong's voice was quiet, but firm.

"I'm scared of being close to you because we both know I'm not enough for you. I'm not up to your standards.” She let out a bitter laugh, dropping her hand. "I'm not a part of your world, Y/N. You saw it with your own eyes."

Y/N shook her head, stepping closer. "Then I'll make you a part of it."

She looked up at Minjeong, her swollen eyes making her look impossibly soft. "God, you've been running away all this time because of that?"

“Don’t make it sound dumb,” Minjeong muttered, looking away.

She shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets again, trying to keep them from shaking.

"My best friend died because of your father—how the hell am I supposed to sit at a dinner table with him? And when he becomes president, what will the public think of his daughter dating someone like me?"

"Someone like you? I'm lucky to have someone like you in my life, Minjeong." Y/N smiled, her voice still soft, but there was an almost teasing lilt to it. "We'll figure the rest out as we go. I'll make my father sit at the kids' table on Christmas night."

A small laugh escaped Minjeong’s lips, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking back into the other girl’s eyes.

Even with her puffed-up eyes and flushed cheeks, Y/N still looked lovely. Too lovely. Minjeong’s heart skipped at the sight of her.

"This isn’t something you can just figure out, Y/N," she protested, despite the part of her that wanted to give in.

"Why not?" Y/N’s face was tinged pink from the cold, and Minjeong’s hand inched up to gently cup her cheek. She could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

It was too tempting to move closer.

Y/N was standing incredibly close, the faint scent of peppermint lingering between them.

It took her a second to form an answer, her brain feeling foggy.

"Stop trying to push me away," Y/N finally mumbled, almost inaudible. There was a pleading tone to her voice, soft and barely above a whisper against the cold night air.

Minjeong let herself reach for Y/N's hand, gently pulling her closer.

Y/N’s breath hitched as their chests were suddenly pressed together.

She could feel the warmth radiating off Minjeong.

Minjeong leaned in, hesitating for just a second—unsure if she had the right to. But then she decided to throw caution to the wind and pressed a soft, firm kiss to Y/N’s lips.

It was chaste and gentle, but it still made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

Minjeong cupped her face with both hands, her thumbs slowly stroking the delicate skin. She leaned in even further, closing the distance between them until Y/N could feel the way Minjeong’s breath mingled with hers.

Their bodies were flush against each other, the warmth of the contact intoxicating.

Y/N let her hand slide into Minjeong's hair, fingers tangling in the dark locks, needing to touch her in any way she could.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. But before it could go any further, Y/N pulled away.

She smiled when Minjeong instinctively leaned forward, chasing after her lips. She cupped Minjeong’s cheek, her heart softening when she saw the hazy look in her eyes.

Minjeong’s gaze was dark and lidded, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

"You kissed my ex," Y/N muttered, voice still raspy. Her heart was still racing, but she couldn’t help smiling. "It's going to take you more than that to get me."

Minjeong’s face flushed deeper, her grip tightening on Y/N’s waist as she pulled her closer.

"Maybe I should kiss you again," Minjeong teased against her ear, her fingers trailing up and down Y/N’s spine, sending a shiver through her. "I’ll kiss you until you forget her name."

Y/N’s grip on Minjeong’s hoodie tightened, fingers clinging onto the fabric as she fought to steady her pounding heart.

She wanted to give in. But she also had some self-respect.

"You will…" she nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "You just have to work for it."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. Their faces were so close that she could count the dark eyelashes framing Minjeong's eyes.

"So… you ignored me because you saw me kiss Jimin," Minjeong murmured, suddenly piecing things together, "and not because you were playing hot and cold?"

Y/N tilted her head at the question.

Playing hot and cold?

She sighed. She was too tired to unpack the ways Jimin had poisoned Minjeong’s mind. They would fix those things slowly, with time.

So instead of answering, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Minjeong’s cheek. "I’ll see you at school."

And with that, Y/N forced herself to step away, to separate from Minjeong, and start walking home.

"I’ll text you when I get home so you know I made it safe!" Minjeong called after her, and a wide smile spread across her face when Y/N turned around to nod.

"My family misses you, you know?" Minjeong added. "Call me so you can talk to them."

Y/N chuckled, warmth filling her chest at the thought of Minjeong’s family. "I will."

And with a small wave, she finally turned the corner and disappeared into the night.

Minjeong stood frozen in place, her mind still reeling from the kiss.

Her lips still tingled, her heart still raced.

She leaned back against a nearby wall, slowly sinking down to sit on the pavement, resting her head against the cold stone building behind her.

Her brain was spinning.

The way Y/N had touched her, the way her lips had felt against hers, the way her body had fit so perfectly in her arms—

"This is a private neighborhood. You can’t sleep here."

Minjeong startled, looking up to see a security guard standing nearby, hands shoved into his pockets, his expression unimpressed.

A smirk tugged at her lips. "I told you she knew me."

The guard blinked. "Congratulations."

"Yup!" Minjeong nodded as she pushed herself up to stand. "I know Y/N. In fact, Y/N’s gonna be my girlfriend soon!"

The guard blinked again. "Congratulations."

Minjeong chuckled excitedly, a newfound perk in her step as they both walked back to the gate.

The following morning, when Minjeong arrived at school, she could’ve sworn she was going to be jumped.

Standing by the entrance were the two girls that had spilled their soup on her. There was also the guy that had shoved her in the hallway, and the one that accidentally threw his notebook at her. Along with them, were countless other students that Minjeong didn’t recognize.

One of the girls immediately stepped up in front of her. Her expression twisted as she looked down on her.

“Minjeong.” She reached out to take a hold of Minjeong's hand, "I'm so sorry I spilled the soup on you. I was such an idiot."

"Me too, I'm so sorry."

One of the students that she didn’t recognize approached as well, "I'm sorry I knocked shoulders with you."

And another one, "Me too. I promise you to never do it again! I promise!"

More and more apologies were added to the list as more students approached.

Minjeong’s eyes were wide as she took in the sight in front of her. They were all bowing their heads. Some with genuine words of apology, the others were clearly just acting.

"It's okay." She tried to reassure them, not sure how to react to all the sudden attention. She tried to step out of the way to enter the school, but more apologies kept coming.

It resulted in her arriving at class later than usual, breathless and with ruffled up clothes. The teacher wasn't there yet, which allowed her to calm herself down and walk to Y/N, who was already sitting down at her usual spot.

"You didn't have to, you know?"

"Don't know what you're talking about." Yeah, something about the way the corner of Y/N's lips was quirked up told Minjeong that she did know.

"I mean- how did you even-"

Y/N shrugged, an air of nonchalance around her. "Lots of guilty consciences.” was her simple response.

Minjeong huffed out a laugh, both in annoyance and amusement. She sat down on the desk next to her.

"I mean- it was a lot of people, you know? Did you spend the night up for that?"

Y/N smiled and shook her head, "Not really." Her tone was honest and sweet.

Minjeong tilted her head to the side, studying Y/N’s face.

How much influence did she really have? To be able to pull that entire thing off overnight.

It was baffling.

"So, how'd you do it?"

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, when a new voice cut her off.

"Hey, that's my seat." They turned to see the girl who usually sat by Y/N's side.

Minjeong couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. She went to stand up, when the girl suddenly cut her off. "I- just keep it. It's fine."

Minjeong stayed put, her eyebrow raised up in surprise at the girl's reaction.

She turned to Y/N, who shifted her expressions into an innocent raise of eyebrows, "Was that you?"

Y/N pursed her lips, "Me what?"

Minjeong huffed again, fully aware of the fact that Y/N clearly was responsible for whatever the hell that was. But the girl sitting next to her just continued to act innocent.

Her eyes lingered on Y/N for a bit longer, noticing the way her hair was framing her face. How the sunlight was hitting her in just the right way.

Minjeong had to shake herself from the thoughts.

"You're doing too much," Despite her words, she couldn't help but be amused.

Once the teacher came in and the class settled into their normal routine, Minjeong accommodated herself in her new spot, feeling excited for every single class that was to come if it meant sitting by Y/N's side.

Lunch was spent with Y/N's friends at the cafeteria.

Niki was a gentleman and Aeri was very nice. She could see they were hesitant and worried for Y/N, but they still took her in and made her feel at home.

Chaewon on the other hand...

"Stop glaring at her." Y/N didn't even have to look up from her food to see her friend throwing daggers at Minjeong.

Chaewon didn't bother responding, instead opting to keep her gaze fixed on Minjeong.

The short-haired girl shifted in her seat, feeling the intensity of Chaewon's eyes. She tried her best to handle it, but the prickly feeling in the back of her neck was hard to shake off.

"Ignore her," Y/N let out.

"Our Chaewon is a little protective." Aeri tried to chuckle.

Minjeong forced a smile. "A little bit?" She mumbled under her breath.

Chaewon’s glare seemed to intensify.

Niki tried to ease the tension by engaging Aeri in conversation. "So... how's the music club been?" He asked, a light smile on his face.

Minjeong relaxed, thankful for the distraction.

"How's kissing Jimin been, Minjeong?" Chaewon cut Aeri off and the tension at the table immediately spiked.

Minjeong sputtered, nearly choking on her food in surprise.

"I-"

Niki and Aeri exchanged worried glances.

"Chaewon," Y/N’s voice was sharp, but the girl in question ignored her.

She fixed her eyes on Minjeong, her gaze still intense. "Do you enjoy all the gits Y/N gives you?"

Minjeong’s defenses flared up, her jaw clenching in response. But before she could reply, Y/N intervened.

"That’s enough, Chaewon."

Chaewon finally looked at Y/N.

There was an intense moment of silence, the tension between the two friends palpable.

Y/N held her gaze, her eyes steady and firm. A clear warning in her stare.

Chaewon looked back to Minjeong, her expression hardening into a mixture of anger and annoyance before she, ultimately, decided to stay quiet.

So, there was another thing for Minjeong to fix.

Not only did she have to win Y/N over, she also had to win Chaewon over.

The latter was much harder than the former.

Things were easy with Y/N.

The two went out on all kinds of dates. They spent time together and Minjeong slowly, but surely got used to Y/N's world.

It was like getting a fish acclimated to a new aquarium.

You add a small portion of the new element and slowly go from there.

That same expression could be used to explain how Minjeong slowly won Chaewon over.

Excruciatingly slowly.

There were nice favors here and there. Whenever they were together, Minjeong would try to talk to her. It didn't always work but she tried nonetheless.

Minjeong also did her best to end up paired with Chaewon for gym class— she did end up receiving a few balls to the face but it was nothing she couldn't handle.

And things started working out.

Again... slowly.

Very slowly.

It was tiring.

"Just give me a chance, please." Minjeong was ready to get on her knees for it.

Chaewon turned to her with a small glare. It was the end of the day and Chaewon was just getting her bag from her locker—she certainly wasn't expecting Minjeong there.

"What? No bribing coffee today?"

Minjeong ignored the jab and leaned against the locker next to Chaewon’s.

"I just want to talk." Her voice was firm but soft. She wasn't above begging at this point.

Chaewon let out a heavy sigh, her hand still on the locker door. "What do you want to talk about?"

Minjeong gulped, feeling crazy for what she was about to do but knowing that there was no other option. "I'm gonna be in Y/N's life whether you like me or not. I know I fucked up, but the one person who needs to forgive me is Y/N— not you..."

A few beats of silence passed between them.

Minjeong held her breath, praying that Chaewon would listen. "So, just give me a chance, please. Let me prove myself to Y/N. I won't hurt her again, I promise."

Chaewon stared at Minjeong in the eyes, just to make sure she was being completely honest, and then her shoulders slumped a little as she huffed. 

"Whatever," she slammed her locker shut and went to walk away. "Bring me some coffee next time, least you can do."

Minjeong silently let out a sigh of relief. She'd take that for now.

"Bad day?"

The familiar voice made her look over her shoulder to see Y/N standing behind her, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Minjeong chuckled, feeling the tension leave her body. "Something like that."

Y/N stepped closer, reaching out to fix a stray strand of Minjeong's hair. The latter's breath hitched, her heart skipping a beat at the gentle touch.

"Did you bribe her with coffee again?" Y/N squinted playfully before walking past Minjeong to open her locker.

Minjeong leaned against the lockers, absentmindedly touching the strand of hair Y/N had just fixed. "I should have," she admitted, her eyes lingering on Y/N’s face.

A beat of silence passed between them as Y/N rifled through her locker. Then, Minjeong spoke up again.

"You know what I’m starting to realize?"

Y/N glanced over her shoulder with a questioning look. Her eyes shone softly under the school lights. They shone softly under any light as long as they were looking at Minjeong.

Minjeong smiled a little. "You’re a terrible influence."

Y/N chuckled, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down Minjeong’s spine. "You just noticed?"

Minjeong let out a small laugh. "You're corrupting me, you know? I'm being corrupted."

Y/N hummed. "Is that a bad thing?"

Minjeong's heart skipped at the tone, "It’s an absolutely terrible thing," she replied, teasing.

Y/N smirked, leaning in slightly to whisper, "You don’t seem to mind much."

"It’s starting to grow on me," she murmured, her eyes flickering to Y/N’s lips for just a second before snapping back up.

Of course, Y/N noticed. A slow smile spread across her lips before she casually turned back to her locker like nothing had happened.

She was taunting Minjeong, and it was working.

"Come out with me tomorrow. It's Friday— we should do something fun," Minjeong said, hoping to regain control of the situation.

Y/N nodded without hesitation. "What fun do you have in mind?"

Minjeong exhaled, trying to compose herself. Y/N was so unfair. She hadn’t even done much— just a glance, a smirk, a lean-in, an innuendo— and yet Minjeong was already struggling.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels. "You’ll just have to trust me."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, shutting her locker with a soft click. "Should I be worried?"

Minjeong grinned. "A little."

Curiosity flickered in Y/N’s eyes, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she stepped a little closer— just enough for Minjeong to feel the space between them shrink again.

"I do trust you," Y/N murmured.

And just like that, Minjeong was completely, utterly done for.

Not only because of her feelings, but because now she actually had to come up with a cool, fun date idea… in one day.

How stupid could she be?

That question haunted her the entire night as she stayed up trying to plan the perfect date.

It was hard.

Mostly because they had already done so much together.

She had taken Y/N to the park, the cinema, the aquarium. They had gone out to eat at countless cafés and restaurants— each fancier than the last. They had visited bookstores, arcades, even animal shelters. Hell, they had even gone hiking before.

So yeah, Minjeong was grumpier than usual as she arrived at lunch the next day— three hours of sleep did that to a person.

But all of it melted away when she spotted Y/N sitting at their usual cafeteria bench, right next to the vacant spot she always left open for Minjeong.

"Bad morning?" June had to poke a little fun at Minjeong. 

She smiled when Minjeong just groaned tiredly and sat down next to her, letting her eat in peace as she returned to her chat with her friends. 

But then—

"Y/N."

Minjeong tensed at the voice. She could feel Y/N stiffening beside her just as quickly.

"What do you want?"

Jimin smiled as she slid into the seat beside Y/N, completely ignoring Aeri, Minjeong, Chaewon, and Niki’s stares.

"Go out with me," Jimin said.

Irritation prickled at Y/N’s skin. It wasn’t the first time Jimin was doing this, but until now, she had managed to keep it away from Minjeong.

"Why would I do that?" Y/N asked flatly.

Jimin’s smile didn’t waver. She reached out, attempting to take Y/N’s hand.

"Come on… don’t be like that. We were great together, don’t you remember? Just give me another chance."

Y/N shook her head, already opening her mouth to shut her down when Jimin cut in again.

"I reserved a table at the Imperial— I know it’s your favorite. What do you say?"

Minjeong rolled her eyes. "I already have plans with Y/N today."

Jimin shrugged. "You can take her to McDonald’s whenever you want. The Imperial has a two-year waitlist."

Y/N pulled her hand away, her eyes narrowing. She was just about to tell Jimin to get lost when Chaewon chuckled.

Everyone turned to her in surprise. She only shrugged.

"Well, she’s not wrong, is she?"

Minjeong’s stomach twisted. She thought she had made progress with Chaewon.

Y/N clenched her jaw, eyes sharp as she hissed, "Chaewon, I swear to G—"

Chaewon interrupted. "Minjeong can take you out whenever and wherever she wants because you two are dating."

Minjeong’s breath caught in her throat.

Y/N barely masked her surprise. Her eyes flickered to Chaewon, then to Minjeong.

Jimin’s expression shifted, taken aback. "You guys are dating?"

Y/N frowned.

They were?

She cleared her throat, schooling her features before turning back to Jimin. "And what about it?"

Jimin blinked a few times, studying Y/N’s face before responding.

"You just—" She paused, jaw tightening, "…you didn’t say anything," she muttered, her voice quieter now, almost hurt.

Y/N crossed her arms. "We broke up, Jimin. It’s not like I have to tell you every detail of my life."

Jimin flinched. The words hit harder than she had expected.

"You don’t," she admitted, her eyes dropping to the table.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Then, Jimin let out a quiet breath and stood up.

"Fine," she muttered, her eyes flickering between Y/N and Minjeong. "Have fun."

Jimin turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of students in the cafeteria.

The group sat in silence for a few beats before Aeri turned to Chaewon. "Did you just… officiate their relationship?"

Niki snorted, and Chaewon quickly slapped him on the back of the head.

"These two idiots were going nowhere!" She pointed at Y/N and Minjeong. "I was two seconds away from locking them in a closet and throwing away the key."

Minjeong bit her lip, feeling a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

She had not expected Chaewon to be so upfront about her and Y/N's predicament.

Y/N wanted her to earn her love, and—well, Minjeong would only be sure she had earned it when Y/N herself—

"Yeah." Y/N shook her head, a blush creeping up her neck. "That's not how it works."

Her eyes flickered toward Minjeong for just a second longer than necessary before she turned back to her food.

Minjeong gulped, somehow understanding exactly what Y/N was telling her.

Aeri and Niki shared a knowing look while Chaewon rolled her eyes.

"Bullsh—" 

Chaewon was cut off by Minjeong. "She's right."

Chaewon scoffed. "As if this isn't the most torturously slow courtship I've ever seen."

Niki nodded in agreement. "Agreed."

Y/N sent her friends a small glare but didn't push further. What did go further, though, was the blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks—especially when Minjeong reached for her hand under the table.

It was a small gesture, but it sent a shiver through her, right down to her core.

Her eyes fell downward, watching as their fingers interlocked.

It still took her breath away; the way Minjeong’s hand fit so perfectly with her own.

Y/N squeezed Minjeong's fingers a little, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

That same smile remained by the end of the day when the two left school, hand in hand.

"So... where are you taking me?" Y/N asked.

Minjeong hummed, squeezing Y/N’s hand. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but ultimately decided not to ask anymore. It didn’t matter where they went, as long as she was with Minjeong.

So they walked and walked. It was a familiar path, so familiar, in fact, that Y/N wasn't surprised when they arrived at Minjeong's family restaurant.

The warm glow from inside spilled onto the pavement. The faint scent of grilled meat and spices lingered in the air, wrapping around them like a familiar embrace.

"Very ominous," Y/N remarked, chuckling when Minjeong nudged her side.

"Shut up."

"LOOK AT YOU!"

Both girls startled as they stepped inside the restaurant. It was fairly empty at that hour, the usual dinnertime rush long gone.

The lights inside the restaurant were low, but Y/N could still see the familiar gleam of stainless steel kitchenware. She could also see Minjeong's mother walking toward her with open arms.

"You look so good together! Come give me a hug!"

Minjeong was quick to shake her head. "Mom, Mom, you promised!"

"A hug from Y/N won't ruin your romantic date, Minjeong."

Minjeong was having none of it, so she quickly grabbed Y/N's hand and led the way to the back room and up the stairs.

"I love her," Y/N mumbled, smiling to herself when Minjeong huffed.

"Trust me, she loves you more."

Minjeong let out a deep breath as they finally reached the top of the stairs and came face-to-face with a metal door.

She pushed it open, revealing the rooftop, lit up by fairy lights.

Y/N felt her mouth fall open as she stepped outside and took in everything Minjeong had prepared.

The fairy lights cast a warm glow over the rooftop. A blanket was spread out on the floor, next to the guitar Y/N had gifted Minjeong, with all kinds of food and snacks laid out on top.

Minjeong's old laptop sat open, a list of movies and shows displayed on the screen.

"Minjeong..."

The short-haired girl gulped. This was no Imperial, but it was a place of comfort for her.

"Is this okay?"

Y/N had a hard time finding words as she took in the rooftop, the effort Minjeong had put into this date, how she had set everything up so perfectly.

Her heart had never felt so full.

Instead of talking, she decided to show Minjeong how much this meant to her. So, she turned and cupped Minjeong’s cheeks, leaning in for a kiss.

Minjeong couldn't help but melt into it, her body instinctively arching against Y/N’s as their lips met. She let herself sink into the feeling— Y/N's fingers on her skin, her scent, everything.

When they parted, Minjeong kept her eyes closed for a few beats, breathing deeply. Her heart was racing, the warmth of Y/N's lips still lingering.

She opened her eyes, only to find Y/N staring at her, fingers resting gently on her cheeks.

"Are you trying to woo me, Minjeong?"

Minjeong's cheeks flushed. "I'm trying to make you my girlfriend. Why? Is it working?"

Y/N smiled, her thumb brushing the corner of Minjeong's lips.

"Yes."

Minjeong’s smile widened before confusion took over her features. "Hold on. Is that ‘yes’ for it working or for you being my girlfrie—"

Her words were cut off as Y/N leaned in again, capturing her lips in another kiss.

This one turned heated quickly.

Y/N stepped closer, hands sliding to Minjeong’s hips, pulling her in. Minjeong’s breath hitched, her fingers threading into Y/N’s hair as her mind turned to mush.

She blindly started leading Y/N toward the blanket, but the other girl stopped her.

"Your mother is behind the door," Y/N whispered against her lips.

Minjeong was almost surprised that Y/N even knew that— then she remembered.

Of course she did.

"You'll have to be quiet then, girlfriend," Minjeong muttered, her lips pressing against Y/N's neck. 

Y/N gasped lightly, her heart fluttering in her chest. "I like the sound of that." She cupped Minjeong's jaw and tilted her face up for another kiss.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, I'm Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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.

Summary: Your boss is a stubborn man but even he can get sick. (plus!reader)

Character: August Walker

Day Twenty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - I swear I'm not sick

Note: 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.

Mr. Walker leaves his bag at the door, his jacket too. You move his shoes so they sit neatly on the drip tray and hang his jacket. You pick up his briefcase and carry it up to his office. As you near the closed door, you hear him coughing from the other side. 

You slow as you approach and knock on the door, “sir, I have your things.” 

He coughs again then calls through hoarsely, “in.” 

You twist the handle and dip inside. You set the bag on the leather armchair where you always do and retreat as your employer sniffles. He lets out a crackly sigh after. He sits behind his desk, silent, stony. His usual self except for the raspy breaths he lets out. 

You don’t await his dismissal. You know if he has to tell you to go, it means you’ve overstayed. Mr. Walker prefers discretion. He prefers solace. It makes your job both easy but difficult. 

You leave and go down to the kitchen. At this time, he won’t have eaten. He’ll need dinner. With his cough and stuffed nose in mind, you prepare him some chicken and rice soup. You put a thick hunk of artisinal bread with it and a cup of tea. 

You carry it up to him and announce your purpose at the door, “dinner, sir.” 

He grumbles. You know his sounds well enough to enter. You bring the tray to his desk as he sits back in his chair, unmoving, eyes closed, hands firm around the rests. You hear the rattle in his chest from there. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He opens one eye and the icy blue chills you. His single iris flicks down as he considers the tray. He opens his other eye and sits forward. He swallows another cough. 

“What is this?” He touches the mug’s handle. 

“Tea, sir. I found some ginger. I added a touch of honey--” 

“Why?” 

“Why, sir?” 

“I don’t drink tea. I haven’t ever drunk tea. It’s for my mother. So why--” He snaps his mouth shut and his throat strains as he holds back another cough. He lets out a single croak and clears away the rocky crags. “Why are you serving it to me?” 

“Oh, uh, sir, it will soothe your cough--” 

“I’m not sick.” 

“Yes, sir, the air is dry this time of year,” you agree. 

“I don’t want the fucking tea.” 

“Sir.” 

You come around and take the cup. He sits back again and turns the seat away. You hold the steaming cup and quickly head for the door. You stop, remind by his reprimand of something else. 

“Your mother and father will arrive tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged their room and all else.” You confirm. 

“Great, you did your job,” he sneers dryly. 

“Sir,” you murmur and turn to the door. 

Just a few more hours and you’ll be free. It’s the holidays and even Mr. Walker gave you a day to spend with your family. Though you suspect it’s more that he doesn’t want you around his.  

For the three years you’ve worked for him, you’ve never met a single other person in his life. You clean the house, you pick up his laundry, and you order groceries. You are peripheral. You are the tedium that fuels the more concerning parts of his life. 

🌟

Your mother and stepfather are arguing on the porch. Again. Your aunt and uncle are showing off their toddler grandchild, and your brother, the terrible twins, more than a decade your junior, are flipping through their phones. You sit and observe it all. 

You glance at the window, your mom’s anger expounded in the wag of her finger. You get up as the smell of ham draws you into the kitchen. You check to make sure it’s not overdone then piddle around, trying to distract yourself from the chaos. 

Your back pocket rumbles. You ignore it. It’s some promo trying to entice you into ordering food. On Christmas of all day. As the vibration persists, you assume it’s some poor telemarketer, forced to make the rounds for a bit of overtime pay. 

You ignore it. You work on finishing the brussel sprouts your mother left in the strainer. You cut of the ends and slice an X into them. Your phone starts again. You don’t put down the knife until the third call. 

Walker. 

You hesitate but pick up. Why would he be calling, today of all days. You fix your posture as you answer, as if he can see you. 

“Mr. Walker,” you eke out, nervous you might have missed something. 

“Hello, is this...” a woman says your name curiously. 

“Uh, yes, it’s me,” you affirm. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to bother you, especially today, but we are in need of some help,” her voice is tremulous. 

“I told you,” a male can be heard more distantly. “We shouldn’t bother them. There’s a reason they aren’t here, dear.” 

“Pish,” the woman dismisses. “Very sorry again but my son--” 

“Katherine,” you say, “Mr. Walker’s mother?” 

“Yes, Auggy is my son,” she tuts. “As I was trying to explain, he’s doing rather poorly but he’s refusing my care. He’s always been awfully stubborn, you know?” 

“Kath,” the man drones. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” she squeals at him. “He doesn’t want his mommy fluttering around him like an old hen, but you understand, he’s my baby. I’m worried. And so we were looking and saw your name. A girl’s name so you must be someone special.” 

“Katherine,” the man sighs once more. 

“I’m his housekeeper, ma’am,” you explain. 

“Hum, oh, of course. You would be,” she says. “Oh, my, I’m afraid I’ve assumed so much.” 

“Is he still coughing then?” You ask. 

“Oh, yes, terrible. He sounds as if he’s swallowed glass.” 

“We’ll call a doctor,” the man intones. 

“Octavius, please, which doctor do you suggest we call? They all fly out of the country on their salaries,” she chirps. “Honey, please, if you don’t mind, you might be able to coax him. If you are his maid, you’d only be doing your job. He can’t turn you away.” 

You frown. She doesn’t know how wrong she is. He would and he will. 

“Lucine, please,” your step father’s voice blows through with a gust as he comes inside. His anger is forged into his tone and the door slams. You wince. 

“I can be there,” you tell Katherine. It won’t make a difference but it will get you away from all this. 

🌟

Katherine as good as drags you through the door. You didn’t even knock before she swung it open. She’s a tall woman, plump, and her face is rosy. She’s not what you expect. 

“Yes, come in, come in,” she says. “Oh, what’ve you brought?” 

She gestures to the canvas bag on your elbow. 

“Just some stuff to help,” you explain as the warmth of inside seeps beneath the chill in your cheeks. “Hopefully.” 

“Oh, yes, how clever of you.” 

She takes the bag and you let her. She sets in on the bench and unbuttons your top button before you can stop her. You gently catch her hands then do the rest yourself. 

“Sorry, dear, sorry. It’s only, I’m so worried.” 

“He’s a man, he’ll be fine. If you’d stop pecking at him, he wouldn’t be hiding,” a man appears in the archway to the den. He’s big like Mr. Walker, with white hair and paler eyes. He crosses his arms in the same way. That must be the father. 

“He’s sick! You heard him. He wouldn’t listen--” 

“He was doing just fine, Katherine.” 

“Tosh, you don’t know that. You never were there when he was home sick. He needs his orange juice and chicken noodle.” 

“He needs you to stop,” the man you assume is Octavius reproaches. 

“I can check on him but... it’s probably just a cold,” you say as you slip out of your boots. 

“So long as you try.” 

“Right,” you grab the bag and twist the handles. 

You go to the bottom of the stairs and look up. You peer side to side, from mother, to father, both tentatively watching you in turn. It seems Walker puts everyone at arm’s length. 

You take the first step with trepidation. Then the second. Up and up, you climb until you reach the top. You turn down the hallway and come to the office door. You bite the inside of your lip and knock. You don’t get an answer. 

You look at the bag in your hand and contemplate running back downstairs. You can say you tried and got the same result. Still, that Walker doesn’t shout for you to scram is worrying. 

You knock again to the same result. Several more taps go unanswered before you are faced with another decision. Do you go in, just to make sure? 

It would be a waste. You left your family, Katherine waited around for you, you suppose you can brave Walker’s wrath to give her the gift of knowing all is well. 

You inhale and hold it in. You enter the office, peeking through as you do. It’s dim but for the light of the glass lamp on the desk. As you look for the broad figure behind it, you find only an empty chair. 

You frown. He must be in his room or-- 

The grumble jars you. You squint as you try to see through the dark. You find Mr. Walker on the leather settee near the artificial fireplace set into the wall. Great. You should go. You can do that still. He’s not answering you so obviously he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

He coughs, a sharp, agonizing cough that makes even your throat hurt. You let your breath out. Ugh. He’s a big boy, literally, he can handle it. Right? 

Shit. 

You cross the room and turn the dial on the artificial fireplace. It lights up, casting a soft glow over the office. You turn to find Walker shivering on the cushions, arms crossed as he hugs himself, legs bent to accommodate the short furniture. 

“Mr. Walker, I brought some cough drops and some cold medicine,” you say.  

He groans and doesn’t move. He hacks again, the couch frame creaking under his weight. Why? You shouldn’t feel bad for him. Not for as unpleasant as he’s consistently been. 

You move a leather stool closer and sit. You cradle the bag on your knees and sift through the contents. You take out the bottle of Buckleys. You shake it and reach with your other hand to touch his shining forehead. His eyes pop open and his mustache twitches. 

“Mr. Walker, I have cough syrup--” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, only to cough again. “I don’t want that—sh-- *cough*-- shi-- *cough*” He devolves into a fit and you wait patiently. 

“If you don’t want it, you should try some of these ginger drops.” 

“Why are you here?” 

You steady your agitation. “Your mother called me.” 

“Why did she--” He can’t finish the question. 

“She asked me to help you. I’m trying but I can’t do much if you won’t let me. However, you are my boss so you can tell me to go back home to my family,” you shrug. 

He looks at you then closes his eyes. He shifts onto his back and lifts his legs, extending them over the armrest. He is ridiculous big on the short sofa. 

“Do whatever. I thought you were a maid, not--” 

He can’t finish the insult but you get the gist. You dig around in the bag and take out the tin of menthol rub. You uncap it as his face contorts in an effort to repress his coughing. You hold it out under his nose and he sucks in and flinches. 

He grabs his nose as you recoil and blinks, “what is that?” 

“Just menthol, it will clear your airways a bit.” 

“Oh,” he furrows his dark brows. 

“Typically, you put it on your chest but it’s kind of greasy so--” 

“Do that,” he insists and sniffs deeply, “it’s helping.” 

“Oh, uh...” you stare at him. 

He’s sallow, the brims of his eyes reddened, and his face drawn. You nod and lightly touch the gel. You hesitate. You won’t be able to reach him and... right. 

“Can you...” You look at his shirt collar, “unbutton.” 

He coughs again, a rumble in his chest, and he clumsily pinches his buttons until he frees them. He pulls the fabric apart to reveal his furry chest and you stand. You move closer and bend over him as you gently trace beneath his throat, that little crook of bone above his muscled pecs. You focus on spreading the menthol as he breathes deeper, further puffing out his chest. 

“Better?” You ask. 

He makes a noise, something akin to a purr. You rub the cream in until It’s absorbed then pull away. You cap the container and put it back in the bag. You put it all on the stool and back away. 

“Where are you going?” Walker mutters. 

“To wash my hands,” you say. 

“Mmm, be quick.” 

You take his orders and hurry out. You come down the hallway and dip into the bathroom to rinse your hands. As you dry off, you nearly squeal as a shadow appears in the door. Katherine wrings her hands as she shifts back and forth. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“He’s fine, I think. Just sick. Stubborn.” 

“Oh, very,” she agrees with your last statement. 

“I’m just trying to get him to take some cough meds,” you explain. 

“Ah, good luck,” she trills, “I will make some tea, if you like?” 

“Uh, yeah, we can try that,” you agree. 

She hurries off and you go back down the hall. The smell of menthol and the crackle of the fake fire welcome you in. You go to the settee as Walker lays quietly, breathing in and out, as his shirt remains open. 

“I think the cough syrup will help,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond. You watch the cadence of his chest. Is he asleep. You move around slowly, trying not to knock anything with your hip or step too heavy. You gather up the bag. He can probably sleep it off. 

You let out a squeal as you feel a brush against your bum. You spin as Walker’s arm extends to you and he catches your hip. You stutter in surprise. 

“S-sir!” 

“I’m sick,” he whines, though the surrender is hardly a triumph. “Please...” 

You stare at him. You don’t know what’s worse. The brave face or the pathetic victim. 

“Baby, I feel so bad,” he squeezes and you look down at his large hand. He must be really sick if he’s calling you that. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Walker,” you take his hand and move it off your hip. You lower yourself onto the edge of the couch and bend his arm over his chest. “Your mom’s going to make you some tea.” 

“Mmmm,” he drones and reaches for you again. “Don’t leave.” 

“Sir,” you look down as his touch follows your sleeve to your shoulder then curls down your back, stopping on your waist. You grab his wrist again. “I’ll stay, just... relax.” 

“Yes, baby,” his fingers dip into your soft side, “whatever you want me to do.” He tugs free of your grip and trails along the top of your butt, “just stay.” 

You narrow your eyes and once more stop his stray hand. You cling to it as you direct it away from you, keeping hold of him to keep from another rogue groping. He’s sick for sure. So sick, he must be delusional. 

“Alright, I'm here, Mr. Walker.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you. You wince at the intensity in his glassy irises. His cheek ticks and he hums again. 

“Mm...” he drawls weakly. “So... soft.” 

[thesoupisburning]

he is SUCH a specimen. his complete and utter surety that he is correct. there is nothing that can dissuade him. i have to wonder, is this lack of movement because he is an echo? or was he always like this, because i am so inclined to believe the latter, even going as far to say that it is that belief in his "truth" that allows the echo to exist. god. he KILLS HIMSELF FOR THIS. isnt it crazy? what a fucking hail mary to make. is it just him who is so desperate, or is it the whole world? im on team heat death of universe. is he just one of many who would do anything to keep their loved ones from painful death? does he recognize on any level that his choices are practically non existence?

I disagree with Narrator in a very fundamental and philosophical level, but you know, even if I agreed 100% with his worldview and the reality he wants to bring about, I’d still think he’s wrong for taking matters into his own hands and changing THE VERY FABRIC OF REALITY affecting people in the entire universe, simply because HE thinks he knows what best for the world.

Like– that’s why I find him so fascinating, it’s not only the fear of death or disgust towards the very concept of change (tho that is very funny and interesting in its own right), but the utter arrogance to champion himself Savior of the World without EVER considering that maybe– just maybe, people might not agree with what he plans to do.

Like. Hubris indeed, and he even has the gall to say, “you can still do what you must and kill her” when we call him out on it. Like. Wow. I want to study this guy under a microscope.

[thesoupisburning]

i got a fun idea:

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG IM JUST A LITTLE GUY I ONLY CAN GET SO MANY PPL TO SEE THIS WITH TAGS GIVE ME DATAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa.................

shit i forgot results. oh well. GUESS THAT MEANS YOU HAVE TO VOTE SUCKERSSSSSS

[lunitawrites]

Heavy Rain - a Joel Miller one shot

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: explicit

summary: It´s been raining for weeks when Joel finds you curled up on his couch.

warnings: reader struggles with mental health (please note that this is not based on any scientific diagnosis of a mental illness, it is coming from my experience struggling with my own mental health), crying, smut (PiV), heavy emotions

a/n: This is for @undercoverpena´s April Showers Challenge. You can find the rest of the works under the #UndercoverAprilShowersChallenge tag.

word count: 850

The rain feels heavy on Joel's shoulders as he arrives home that evening. It's not unusual for the Texan spring to be this wet, but this time the rain stretches over weeks, painting the blue spring skies grey, soaking the dusty terrain until it turns into mud under his shoes.

His house is cold, almost feels damp as the walls soak up the never-ending rain. You are lying on his couch, only lit by the fluorescent light of the muted TV, displaying commercials, long forgotten by its audience.

He can hear your quiet sobs from across the room. He knows you noticed him, but you don´t turn, just pull your blanket tighter around your chin. He walks then, slow steps towards you, seemingly afraid that he might startle you if he moves faster.

You are silent now as the back of his knuckles brush on your cheeks. I know, he whispers into the darkness, not even sure if you can hear him.

He goes into the kitchen then, quietly closing the door behind him, when he is sure it won't bother you, he flicks on the lights. Half eaten cereal and a bottle of wine, only missing a glass from the burgundy liquid. Your journal lies open on the dinner table, its pages blank. He closes that first and then slowly and meticulously puts everything in order. He heats up soup from the freezer, puts on a kettle of water to boil.

When the kitchen is in order, he puts the soup and mint tea on a tray and returns to the living room. He places it on the coffee table in front of you. You open your eyes and give him the faintest of your smiles. A smile almost just to mask your lips trying to curl down, your eyes ready to cry. You sit up, the material of the blanket bunching around your waist, revealing the stained t-shirt you are wearing. You seem embarrassed for a moment when you notice and pull the blanket up to your chin again.

He offers you the soup then. He would feed you, but he is sure you would never let him do that. You take the bowl in your hands, lacing your fingers around it, enjoying the warmth radiating from the ceramic.

He leans back besides you, taking your calves and placing them over his lap, his hands drawing slow, mindless circles on your bare skin. Both of you stare at the muted TV in silence, none of you bothered enough to look for the remote to change the volume.

You put the bowl down as you finish and curl up again on the couch, removing your calves from Joel's lap. He can see tears in the corners of your eyes again, threatening to overflow and paint wet stripes on your cheeks. You swipe them away with the heel of your palms and squeeze your eyes shut. You hold your breath to keep yourself from crying.

Joel curls behind you, his whole body hugging yours. Breath, his mouth is on your ear, leaving a small kiss on the shell of your ear. So you do, let the air flow into your lungs. You keep it in for a few seconds and let it out slowly, feeling your tears escape your body the same time the air does.

You take his hand and press it against your chest, squeezing yourself impossibly close to him. The rain is still drip-drip-dripping on the windows, a monotonous sound that you cannot escape. I want it to end, you breathe and you both know you are not referring to the rain.

He buries his face in your hair, breathing you in. You can feel his length hardening against the curve of your ass. He mumbles an apology and adjusts his position so that your bodies are no longer touching.

No, please, you push yourself back again, make love to me. The urge to have him inside you takes over your body. You push your underwear down, kick it off with your legs, and then reach behind to remove his jeans too. You hear his quiet hey, baby, stop; but your only answer is the squeaky pleas that are falling from your lips, landing straight at the bottom of his spine.

He takes his cock out, fully hard now, propping it to your entrance and entering you with one swift motion. You moan in unison at the feeling, his hands holding you close, splayed out on your stomach.

He fucks you then, no rush in his movements, peppering small kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders. He mewls quietly in your ear every time he fills you up. He does not stop until your body tenses around him, pleasure ripping through your tired body. When he comes, it is with a soft groan buried in your neck.

At least now I have something in me that I love, you whisper. The rain has stopped now, the only dripping sounds are his tears landing on the bare skin of your chest.

--

Thank you so much for reading!

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day twenty: "stop distracting me."

ᰔ pairing: joel miller x reader

ᰔ summary: you try to work from home with a cold, but joel isn't having any of it.

ᰔ author's note: this series has been posted to ao3 and i update it daily :) if that's your preferred platform, you can find it here!

ᰔ content warning: modern!au, no outbreak, comfort

You groaned and laid your head on the desk as you shut your laptop. You were sure your brain had started to leak out of your ears at this point. If you looked at another order form, you were going to throw your laptop out of the window.

There was a knock on the door, slightly ajar from the last time you left your desk. When at home, you had an open door policy for your office. Joel and Sarah were always welcome to come in. The only exception was when the door was closed. If you were in a meeting or working on a deadline, you needed the quiet.

"Come in," you called out.

"You okay, darlin'? It's been a while since you came up for air." Joel closed the door behind him, though he left it ajar.

"I'm fine. I'm just up to my ears in order forms," you sighed. "They haven't looked at these since I came back, so I have a week's worth of orders to go through."

The side of Joel's mouth turned downward, his eyebrows knit together as he tried to think of a solution. He had been a firsthand witness to the last week you had.

You had come down with some sort of illness that left you in bed for the week. Joel was by your side as he nursed you back to health. Even now, he didn't think you were ready to go back to work, even if it was from the comfort of your own office. He had checked on you three times so far today. With each check in, you looked worse and worse.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you should get some rest." Joel laid the back of his hand against your forehead. He sucked in a breath of air; you were hot to the touch.

"If I don't finish these, they'll never get done," you argued. "After I finish this batch, I'll go lay down." You tried to sound more assertive, but you sounded exhausted more than anything else.

"I'll hold you to it," Joel warned. He meant it too. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Oh, I know," you hummed, a bit amused.

Joel left you to get back to work despite his gut telling him to get you to bed. He was often the one to pull you away from your work when you weren't feeling well. While you grumbled at first, you usually thanked him once settled in bed.

He held off for an hour before he was back with a bowl of soup.

"You made this for me?" You asked as you glanced up from your laptop. Joel nodded, the bowl and a glass of water set on your desk.

"I did. You shoulda seen the look on Sarah's face when I broke out the soup pot," Joel chuckled. You grabbed for the bowl and ate a few bites. You almost melted into your seat from the comfort it brought you.

"Thank you. I'm almost done with the batch, I promise." You were trying your hardest to power through, but the words were starting to blur together. That, and Joel's concern sat like a weight on your shoulders. Every word you typed felt like more of a draw to leave your desk and curl up in your husband's arms. Still, you had to power through. The work had to be done whether you wanted to do it or not.

"I know. Call for me if you need me." Joel squeezed your shoulder before he took his leave again. You didn't know it, but he was already preparing for when he inevitably had to pull you away. If you were left to your own devices, you'd stay at your desk and stay glued to it through the night.

You stuck to your laptop for a couple of hours before there was a knock at the door. You were on the last few forms of the second batch you had gone through.

"Joel, I'm almost done," you said without looking up. "Stop interrupting me."

"Not happening. Come on."

You moved your hands as Joel reached over to close your laptop. When you turned around, he frowned. Exhaustion and pain were written all over your face.

"Honey–"

"No, I don't wanna hear it," Joel stopped you, a tone of finality in his voice. You stood from your seat, and he wrapped an arm around your middle. He guided you out of your office and down the hallways of your home.

"It's just a few more forms," you argued. "It'll take me ten minutes." Despite your protests, you didn't fight back as Joel sat you on the bed. He lifted your shirt off of you, and replaced it with one of his own.

"You said that two hours ago. Will you just let me take care of you?" Joel raised an eyebrow as he handed you a set of pajama shorts. You sighed before you nodded and took the shorts.

"The soup helped," you told him as you changed.

"Good. I got some tea boiling that'll help. That one you bought at the market." Joel lifted your side of the blanket once you were in comfortable clothes. He tucked you in and kneeled beside the bed.

Once settled in bed, you felt your body finally give to the sickness you had been holding out on. The throbbing behind your eyes had returned, along with the ache all over your body.

"Can you at least bring me my laptop so I can work from bed?" You were met with two raised eyebrows and a hand on the hip.

"Now why am I going to tell you no?" Joel watched as you faltered against the bed, your grumbles muffled by your rustling under the sheets.

"How dare you care about my wellbeing?" You rolled over and buried your face in Joel's pillow. He rubbed your back before he left the side of the bed.

"I'm getting you the tea. If you get out of bed, I'll drag you back myself," he warned. He didn't wait for a response.

Joel went downstairs to pour you a mug full of tea and took a sleeve of saltine crackers with him. He braced himself to fight with you, or at least argue back and forth, about the work situation. He was quiet as he entered your bedroom.

"If you have a—"

Surprised, Joel shut himself when he saw you passed out in the bed. You held his pillow close as you snored softly. Just as he expected, you were asleep as soon as your body had the chance to rest.

He set the tea and crackers down before he turned off the bedside lamp. Once the room was dark and the curtains were closed, he left you to finally catch up on the rest you desperately needed. If anyone knew what you needed, it was Joel Miller.

[thesoupisburning]

mutuals ya know who ya are

I'm bored picrew chain time

this picrew makes me look shockingly normal

@starcrossedandstupid @3guineapigsinatrenchcoat @snailonurface @not-a-boot @k1meoo and @ anyone else who wants to join

[monopersona]

Slip of the Tongue

"Let me take care of you." They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And then the words just slip out of her mouth. The one where she accidentally says I love you.

Sylus x MC (Lili). Fluff, mild emotional h/c, Sylus taking care of his stubborn injured girlfriend because he really loves her or whatever. 2224 words. A/N: Hello! I am back with another Sylus fic. Not going to lie, this one took a few rewrites. The emotional aspect from MC/Lili's part felt more challenging for me to explore now that I'm just dipping my toes back into writing after a while. But that's why we practice, right? Hope you enjoy this one!

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

It had been a long day. A skirmish with wanderers near the N109 Zone had left Lili sore and exhausted. To make matters worse, she’d sprained her ankle so severely that she was now confined to a walking boot for the next two weeks. The doctor had excused her from work, too, which only added to her frustration. She hated being sidelined. It made her feel useless. 

By the time she stumbled through her apartment door, all she wanted was to collapse and forget the day had ever happened. She plopped onto her couch, not bothering to do anything else. Her stomach grumbled in protest, but the thought of cooking seemed unbearable after today’s ordeal. She decided she could hold off until morning—at least until she woke up and felt any better.

It was eight at night when the doorbell rang and jolted her awake. Lili groaned, her body protesting as she slowly sat up. She was groggy, starving, and still in pain. Perhaps delaying food hadn’t been the best idea after all. Still, she needed to get to the door because whoever was out front rang the bell again.

“One minute,” she called out, wincing as she limped her way to the door. 

“Hello, sweetie.”

Of course, it was Sylus. Dressed in his biker jacket over a black shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly charming. And of course, he was holding a bag from her favorite restaurant—the very one she’d been craving all week but hadn’t had the time nor energy to visit.

Lili could feel her heart skip a beat, but she was too tired to muster more than a weak smile and a meek, “Hi.” 

Sylus’s sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in her disheveled appearance, the walking boot, and obvious signs of fatigue. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“A little birdie told me you got injured,” he said, his tone light but laced with concern as he made his way to the kitchen counter. “I had to see for myself because someone hasn’t been answering my calls or texts.” 

Though his words were teasing, Lili felt guilt gnawing at her. “I’m sorry, Sylus. I came home and passed out on the couch. I didn’t even hear my phone.” 

Sylus hummed in acknowledgment, his smile softening as he pulled out containers of soup from the bag. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not here to chastise you. I was worried, but I get it—you’re exhausted. Let me take care of you. Sit down.” 

Lili opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a finger. “No arguments. Sit. Rest.”

She hesitated, her pride in active battle with her need for comfort right now because all she wanted to do was curl under a blanket and cry, but even doing that would be too much of a chore right now. “I can handle myself, you know,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. Sylus raised an eyebrow at her as he transferred the soup into a bowl.

“Of course you can,” Sylus said smoothly, carrying the bowl of soup to her along with a spoon. It was still steaming hot, much to Lili’s delight. “But I’m here, and I’d like to do it for you. Humor me.” When he finally joined her, he held a spoonful of the soup to her lips. 

Lili couldn’t help but squint at him. “You do know it’s my ankle that’s injured and not my arms, right?” 

“I can definitely see that.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “So you just like feeding people?”

“I like taking care of you.” 

Lili’s breath caught. The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, without hesitation—left her with a fleeting feeling she can’t really describe, but it’s one she has felt many times under his gaze. She wanted to resist. She wanted to insist she didn’t need doting on, but truthfully, she was too drained to fight him on it. So she rolled her eyes but complied, letting him feed her. The soup was warm and comforting, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered between sips. 

“So you tell me often. Yet here you are, letting me feed you,” he shot back, grinning. She couldn’t argue with that. 

Sylus fed her spoonfuls of soup, teasing her when she tried to insist she could hold the spoon herself every now and then.

Once Lili had finished the soup, Sylus set the empty bowl aside and turned his attention back to her. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Lili blinked. "What?"

He stood up, offering his hand. "You’ve been knocked out all day, and you probably feel dirty. I’ll help you bathe and change into fresh clothes."

Heat flooded up Lili’s face again. “I can manage, you know!”

"I know you can. But it’s easier with help and you’re exhausted.” 

“It's... weird." 

Lili hesitated. The proposal felt entirely embarrassing, but there is also the undeniable truth that she really did feel gross. Still, the idea of Sylus helping her bathe made her stomach twist with nervousness. Lili had never been shy with Sylus for the most part. They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability, stripped down not just physically but emotionally, too. Maybe that was why she hesitated. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he stated, and that should’ve made it easier. It didn’t. If anything, it made her feel more exposed. Because this wasn’t about what he would see, this was about how she felt.

Lili’s eyes widened and she swatted his arm lightly. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “I’ll be a gentleman and I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, but just know I’m here to help if you want it.” That also didn’t make it less embarrassing, but she knew she needed to get this over with anyway. So she finally decided to let him help her to the bathroom.

True to his word, Sylus was gentle and efficient. He helped her take off her walking boot and undress with ease; never lingering too long, never making her feel anything less than safe. His touch was steady and firm where it needed to be as he guided her into the warm water. Lili’s face burned the entire time, but Sylus remained unfazed, even playfully flicking water at her when she got too quiet.

"You’re overthinking again," he mused, rinsing out the last bits of shampoo from her hair.

"Am not," she mumbled.

"You scrunch your nose when you do. It’s cute."

Lili groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Sylus, please." She wished she could just drown in the water right now and teleport to another room. 

"Alright, alright, I’ll behave," he teased, helping her out and wrapping her in a fluffy towel. Once she was dried off, he put on her walking boot and handed her a fresh set of clothes before turning around while she changed.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed and feeling almost human again, Sylus looked her over with a satisfied nod. "Much better. Now, let's get you comfortable in bed.”

Sylus made her a cup of tea, fluffed the pillows behind her, and draped a blanket over her legs. He even propped her injured ankle on a cushion, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. 

“You don’t have to do all this."

“I know,” Sylus replied, sitting beside her. “But I want to. You’d do the same for me.” 

Lili swallowed. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She wanted to argue, to push him away with some dry remark about not needing a babysitter or distract herself with some back and forth banter. But the truth was, she didn’t want him to leave her side.

She was used to handling things alone. Taking care of herself, picking herself up when she fell, gritting through pain until it dulled into something she could manage. She was strong—she had to be. Especially after her grandmother died. But having Sylus here with nothing but warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his touch, that strength wavered. Not in a way that made her feel weak, but in a way that made her realize she didn’t have to carry everything alone.

It was strange, this feeling. Allowing herself to be cared for, knowing she was safe enough to let her guard down. But it wasn’t bad. In fact, it felt good. Comfortable. Like something she had been denying herself for far too long. She finally exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders loosen. She will accept this. She will choose to lean on him.

They spent the next few hours talking—about her injury, his day, and everything in between. At some point, they went on to play a few competitive rounds of kitty cards, with Lili coming out as the champion each time. 

By the time midnight rolled around, Sylus knew he had to head home. Lili insisted on seeing him to the door despite his protests. 

“You should be resting.”

“I’ve been resting all night, thanks to you,” she replied, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ll be fine. Besides, someone has to lock the door.” 

They stood there, the air between them charged. Lili crossed her arms loosely over her chest, a soft smile playing on her lips. Meanwhile, Sylus lingered, a hand in his pocket as the other held on to the jacket he took off hours ago. She knew he was reluctant to go. She didn’t want him to go, either. But she didn't know how to say it.

“Thank you for tonight,” Lili said. “I had a great time.” 

“Me too,” Sylus replied, his eyes holding hers. “I’ll see you soon?” 

Lili nodded, her smile widening. “Definitely.” There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with words left unsaid. 

“Good night, Lili.”

“Good night, Sylus.”

He turned to leave, and that’s when it happened. 

“I love you,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. 

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. Sylus stopped in his tracks, his back still to her, and Lili’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she’d just said. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, the mortification that had melted away hours ago coming back in full force again. Without another word, she slammed the door shut, leaning against it as her heart raced too much for her liking. What did I just do? she thought, pressing her hands to her face. Why did I say that?!

Outside, Sylus stood frozen. I love you. His mind replayed her words over and over. A small smile spread across his face. He had known for a long time that he loved her—had known it since the first moment he saw her, even when she’d hated him. He knew it in the way his chest tightened when she smiled, in the way he found himself thinking about her even when she wasn’t around. He had just been waiting for her to be ready. And now, it seemed that she was. Even if she only realized it at this very moment.

Without thinking, he turned back to the door and knocked knowing well that she was still behind the door. Lili’s heart nearly stopped at the sound. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Maybe if I just pretend I’m not here…

The knock was heard again, more insistent this time. With a groan, Lili opened the door just a crack, her face peeking out the tiniest bit as she kept her gaze downward. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Yes?” she said, her voice higher-pitched than usual. 

Sylus didn’t say a word. He simply pushed the door open gently, stepped inside, and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could protest, he captures her lips in a kiss. He poured his heart into it—into her. Deeply. Passionately. Lovingly. He would leave no room for doubt. 

Lili’s mind went blank, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as she kissed him back with the same fiery intensity. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. 

“I love you, too,” Sylus said, his voice rough but steady. 

Lili blinked up at him, so relieved but also still in shock. “You… you do?” 

He nodded, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I do. I always have. Have I ever made you feel otherwise?” 

A slow smile spread across her face, the embarrassment finally melting away once again. “Well, no.” 

Sylus chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.” 

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other, before Sylus spoke again. “I’m staying here tonight, if you don’t mind.” 

Lili looked at him with the softest of smiles. “I don’t mind at all.” A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic and are having a great day/night! Please feel free to let me know what you thought of the fic. I'd love any constructive feedback!

[flamingpudding]

Gaming Pal Prompt

A/N: Random Idea that was stuck in my head after reading about a Pen Pal Prompt

It all started with a simple accidentally created open lobby. Sam, Tucker and Danny were just playing Doom in a four person Lobby that was supposed to be passcode locked and private so that it was only the three of them playing. But one of them must have forgotten to lock it as suddenly a random player joined them as well as the in-game voice chat they were using.

"Sup. Mind if I join the game? My last lobby kicked me."

"Why? Too good or too bad?"

Tucker shot back, not minding the new player. The three would just have to watch what they talk about during game time.

"Don't know. I think they thought I cheated."

"Pff, sore losers. Maybe you can help these losers kick ass."

"Oh shut it Sam, we will wipe the floor with you now!"

"A challenge huh? That sounds interesting. I am Tim by the way."

"Sam."

"Tucker."

"Danny."

The friend request was sent after the game in which Tim did help Tucker and Danny beat Sam. Only for Sam to demand a rematch to regain her victory streak. From then on the random player regularity started joining in on their games whenever he happened to be online at the same time.

Of course the trio filtered their talks over voice chat. Making sure they wouldn't let anything atrocious slip. Though they did have some fun telling a non Amity Parker about the shit that goes down in their town and Tim always appeared interested to hear more about the things going on. Always curious and full of follow up questions, that strangely focus on who the attackers were ( always ghosts really they don't have any other rogues aside from maybe the fruitloop) and other times very much focused on their local ghost hero Phantom. He was also strangely interested in the whole GIW situation and sounded rather confused when they mentioned the Anti-Ecto Acts.

Aside from that Tim practically became a part of their little group. Their online Gamer Pal who knew nearly as much about their rogues and local Hero (thanks to all the questions he asked) like they did. A full fledged Team Phantom member who just didn't know the main secret of Danny actually doing the Ghost fighting as Phantom and being the one getting hunted by his own Parents and the GIW.

So of course the day came where Sam, Tucker and Danny forget to filter their words. It was during one particularly exhausting day when Danny had only had like 4 hours of sleep because he had studied all night for an English Test and then Skulker appeared to hunt Phantom and Danny's parents showed up too, making souping the Hunter Ghost especially difficult.

"Ancients, Skulker just had to decide on hunting you today, didn't he Danny?"

"Don't remind me. He is still souped in the thermos, but dodging Mom was harder with so little sleep."

"Should you like take a nap then man?"

"Nah I am fine for gaming night."

"Hey Danny, you did escape the blasters unscratched right? Your mom is the better shot after all."

"Nearly. Mom landed a couple of hits but it's almost healed already, just some small burn marks left."

"I am sorry, WHAT?! Did you guys just say that Skulker, the one that's hunting Phantom for sports, was hunting Danny. Danny was the one to Soup him not Phantom and Danny's Mom shot and hurt her own son with one of these ecto-blasters?!"