#without grasping that it's the same thing

[kenntoria]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ when you’re too sick to care for your baby, nanami brings her to the office strapped to his chest—calm, efficient, and completely unfazed as he gives presentations with a pacifier on his tie and a baby on board.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ this is ridiculous i’m warning you

nanami doesn’t even flinch when you croak from under the covers, voice raw and pitiful: “ken, i can’t—i think i have a fever, and she won’t stop crying unless i’m holding her.”

your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. you look like a ghost of yourself, half-sunken into your nest of tissues and blankets, hair a disaster, eyes glazed and watery. the baby’s red-faced and sniffling too, sprawled across your chest like a little heater, tiny fists grasping your shirt like she knows you might try to hand her off.

nanami, standing in the doorway, calmly adjusts his watch.

“i’ll take her.”

you blink. “you… you have three meetings today.”

“and now i have three meetings with a baby,” he says, already crossing the room like a man with a mission.

you can’t even protest properly before he’s kneeling beside the bed and gently peeling her off you, expertly switching to his papa voice — warm and low, as if he’s de-escalating a tiny, fussy hostage situation.

“there we go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then yours. “we’ll manage. rest. you know what medicine you should take. call me if you need anything.”

ten minutes later, he’s at the front door in his usual tan coat, baby carrier strapped securely to his chest like she’s a very warm, very giggly piece of office equipment. she’s wearing one of those obnoxiously frilly headbands you swore you’d never put on her — but she screamed when he tried to take it off, and he’s not here to pick battles today.

diaper bag over his shoulder. bottle packed. pacifier clipped neatly to his tie. hair combed, shoes polished, baby securely swaddled and babbling.

“don’t let the interns try to hold her,” you wheeze weakly from the hallway.

“i would rather die,” he replies without missing a beat.

as he walks out, you hear him murmur to her, “no loud commentary during the finance report. we must suffer through it in dignified silence.”

cut to: the morning finance meeting, 9:01 a.m., in a fluorescent-lit conference room downtown.

the projector is humming. spreadsheets fill the screen. half the team is slumped in various degrees of caffeine withdrawal.

nanami kento walks in, perfectly on time, baby on his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he doesn’t explain it. doesn’t apologize. he walks straight to the head of the table, clicks open his laptop, adjusts the projector, and begins speaking with the same calm, measured cadence he always uses—

except this time, there’s a tiny foot sticking out of the carrier, gently bumping his blazer.

“moving into Q3,” he says, clicking to the next slide, “we’re forecasting a moderate increase in asset reallocation—”

the baby lets out a soft, inquisitive coo.

nanami glances down at her, gives a very small nod, and says to the room, “correct. the Q3 projections are, in fact, unfortunate.”

silence.

well—almost silence.

from somewhere near the coffee machine, an intern tries to whisper, “is that a—?”

nanami turns his head fractionally. just enough to shut it down.

“yes. she’s here in lieu of her mother, who is unwell. please direct all questions to me or her, depending on the topic.”

no one questions it.

she doesn’t cry, not even once. in fact, she seems thrilled. she clutches his tie like it’s her personal emotional support ribbon and waves her tiny hand every time someone shifts in their chair. at one point, she lets out a high-pitched giggle, and nanami simply pauses mid-sentence, gently pats her back, and continues like nothing happened.

someone tries to make eye contact and smile at her—

she beams and throws her toy at them.

nanami takes back the toy and sighs, “don’t encourage her. she’ll never stop.”

the entire time, he keeps presenting with his utmost precision, occasionally glancing down at her to tuck the headband back into place or swap her pacifier like he’s been doing this his whole life.

he wraps up right on time.

“any further questions?”

dead silence.

even the regional manager just gives a tight nod. no one wants to risk being shamed by a baby.

—

back home, it’s late afternoon when the door creaks open.

you’re still buried in blankets, half-delirious and clinging to a half-empty box of tissues. you blearily lift your head at the sound of keys in the bowl.

nanami walks in with the same exact expression he had when he left: calm, unreadable… except there’s a little extra softness at the corners of his eyes.

the baby is still strapped to his chest. fast asleep now, one hand gripping his tie, the other curled against his collarbone. she’s drooling slightly. he hasn’t removed the headband.

“she was very well-behaved,” he says quietly. “arguably more professional than half the team.”

you laugh — or try to, but it comes out as a croaky wheeze.

he crouches beside you, brushing a bit of hair from your face. “how are you feeling?”

“like death.” he nods and kisses your cheek.

you glance over at the baby. “how was she, really?”

“chatty,” he says, straight-faced. “opinionated about quarterly earnings. but otherwise excellent.”

he lifts her hand gently, unhooks her fingers from his tie.

“you’re insane,” you whisper.

he leans in to kiss your forehead, gentle and lingering.

“efficient,” he corrects.

then, after a beat—

���also… she now technically works in accounting.”

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs.

“someone handed her a spreadsheet. she drooled on it. that’s more than my latest intern did today.”

you laugh again, properly this time.

he finally unstraps her, carefully settling her into the bassinet. she doesn’t stir — not even when he tucks her blanket in with military precision.

you lie there watching him move quietly around the apartment, sleeves rolled up, tie chewed, hair slightly out of place, and realize:

papa nanami could take over the world with a baby strapped to his chest and a pacifier in his pocket, and he’d still be home in time to fold the laundry.

[guppiechuu]

baby, baby, baby ──── PART TWO ✦

always and forever, l.h. ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ part 2 of baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ (read here.)

exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader

length: 13.7k

contains: angst, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, protective heeseung, protective ot7, abandonment issues, co-parenting, heeseung genuinely throws hands, enha has your back, group confrontation, happy ending

warnings: toxic ex-relationship, threats/intimidation, light violence (pushing and grabbing), fighting, implied trauma, toxic parent dynamic, slut-shaming, your ex is the acc worst

synopsis: you and heeseung finally have things figured out and, yes, it's everything you hoped it would be. but things get complicated when your ex-boyfriend (and the father of your child) appears at your home, demanding you make space for him in your daughter's life.

with a threat against heeseung and an unfortunate miscommunication, the trust he's been working so hard to build with you is put to the final test.

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ wowwowoww this took SUCH a long time but i was not done with y/n and heeseung. genuinely the most dramatic and indulgent angst i have ever written but, what can i say? i'm a sucker for a man who's willing to defend what's his.

——

“Heeseung!” You called, cursing lightly as Hana wriggled out of your grasp and tore off towards the car.

Heeseung looked up, eyes locking onto the small child barreling towards him as he closed the trunk of your car. His feet were covered in sand, hair sticking up, the dark strands stiff with sea water.

Your daughter looked the same—sandy, saltwatered, and windswept as she attempted to dodge him, her hands outstretched towards the fading light of the beach.

Heeseung caught her with an arm around the waist and hoisted her, kicking legs and all, to his chest.

“Come on, supergirl,” He said, using a free hand to brush the sand off her feet. “Time to go home.”

“No!”

Her new favorite word. 

“No?” He said, bringing her around to the backseat. “You don’t want to go home and eat all this candy we got?”

“No!”

“No, you don’t want to put on your new pjs that Uncle Jay bought you?”

“No!”

He hummed while he wrestled her into her car seat, strapping her in with practiced ease. “No, you don’t want to get mommy all wet while she gives you your bath?”

“No!!”

He grinned. “I see. Guess I’ll have to take care of that one, then.”

You slapped him on the shoulder. "You're gross."

Hana laughed at that, mimicking you with a few light slaps to his hands.

"What do you think, baby, am I gross?" He asked, brushing her wet hair back from her forehead.

She rammed her little fists into his arm, squealing in delight. "No!"

"That's what I thought," He said, closing her door and climbing into the front seat.

There was a time when Heeseung thought co-parenting would be a challenge—that the demands of caring for a toddler might strain your relationship, make things overly complicated. Tense. The way they had been between you and your ex.

He used to lie awake in his room, eyes heavy, chest tight with the fear that he’d mess it all up. That he didn’t have what it took, and that he’d hurt you worse than he ever had before.

But—like most things about the two of you—he’d been wrong.

You and Heeseung had slipped into a rhythm so tender, so natural, it was hard to believe there’d ever been a time without it. 

He still lived at the dorm with the other guys, but he spent most nights at your house. During the day, he attended recording sessions and rehearsals, filmed content, and planned for upcoming tour dates as they prepared for their album release.

But he found his way back to you every night. To the contained chaos of your house, the sound of your daughter's laughter, to the warmth of you beside him.

"Hey," He'd say, kicking his shoes off at the door. "How're my two favorite girls?"

"Fussy. And tired," You'd answer, relishing the feeling of his lips on your temple, and his hand on your back.

For every night he’d spent tangled in doubt, there was one you’d spent the same—lying awake with old fears rattling in your head. That you were getting yourself into something you might regret, and all the hours you spent together would one day come to an end. 

But it was getting easier and easier to push these thoughts away.

Heeseung was intentional with you. Direct. Clear. All the things you’d wished for years ago during your first time together. When he made promises, he followed through. When he saw you having a hard time, he took over.

It seemed instinctual, the way he could tell what you needed when things were overwhelming. You weren’t used to it. Asking for help had never been your strong suit, and sometimes the discomfort of it brought you to tears.

But Heeseung guided you through this new territory with ease, never once making you feel like you were too much.

He fit into your life like a puzzle piece, something that had been a part of you even before you knew it was missing. It had only been three months, but Heeseung had quickly become an irreplaceable part of your life. 

——

The car was quiet. Hana's babbling had grown softer as the day caught up to her. The radio was on the lowest setting, a song you could barely make out mixing with the sound of your daughter’s tired muttering.

Heeseung’s hand rested gently on your knee as he drove, his other wrist draped over the steering wheel while he traced absent-minded patterns over your skin.

By the time you were parked in your driveway, Hana was out, cheeks pink from the sun, head lolling against her car seat.

You reached back to brush a curl away from her face, your heart spinning at the feeling of her skin beneath your fingers. Heeseung's touch was equally gentle, thumbing over your knee as he watched you in the mirror.

"I think a bath will have to wait until tomorrow," You said quietly. "We should just get her to bed." You turned around in your seat as Heeseung moved his hand to rest on the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"Hm, an early night with no responsibilities. Whatever will we do with all the extra time?" He said teasingly, leaning forward to kiss you.

Your heart still fluttered when he did that. 

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Lee," You muttered against his lips. "Come on."

Hana's body was heavy in your arms as you carried her up your steps, her diaper bag dangling from your fingers. The house was quiet, still warm from the summer heat as you pushed the door open, trying not to wake the sleeping toddler on your hip.

But as you stepped into the living room, your breath caught. The diaper bag slipped from your grasp, thudding against the ground.

"Babe, have you seen her water bottle—" Heeseung's voice trailed off as he came in behind you. You felt him tense.

He was there. In your house. Leaning against the kitchen counter like he owned the place.

Jace.

Looking at him now, it was so obvious that you'd started dating him all those years ago to get your mind off of Heeseung's absence. The two couldn't have been more different.

Jace's face was carefully guarded, eyes darting between the three of you with cold calculation. His gaze lingered on Hana, her head resting on your shoulder, hand curled around your hair.

His lip curled lightly at the sight of her, that same look that he used to give every time you'd ask him for help, every time you'd beg him to spend time with her. It wasn't hatred. It wasn't even disgust.

It was inconvenience.

Like simply being in the same room as you two was exhausting for him.

Heeseung moved closer behind you, silent. His presence eased some of the panic that was bubbling up your throat. The shift in his posture was unmistakable—tense, protective, itching to step in if you needed him. 

His shoulder brushed yours, a silent reassurance. I'm right here, it said.

Something shifted in Jace's expression as his gaze flicked to Heeseung, taking in the man standing in his place. His face hardened, eyes narrowing, knuckles white as he crossed his arms.

"Long day?" He said finally, voice far too casual for how tense the air around you had become.

You tightened your hold on Hana, shifting her higher against your chest. “What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Jace shrugged, as if there was nothing unusual about the situation at all. The tightness in your throat said otherwise.

"You've been ignoring my calls. Thought I'd stop by in person. I wanted to see my daughter."

The way he said it, my daughter, sent a shiver down the back of your neck. Heeseung let out a low breath, his brows furrowed. 

"You can't just—" You swallowed, your throat dry. "You can't just let yourself in."

"Funny, I'm pretty sure my name's still on the lease. My key still fits in the door. Should've done something about that if you didn't want me coming home."

Heeseung stepped forward, dropping the bag he was holding with a thump. "You need to leave," He said, voice low and even. There was an edge to it that you'd never heard before. Wary. Defensive.

"Oh, right. The boyfriend." Jace pushed away from the counter, crossing the room until he was uncomfortably close. "Heeseung, right? So you're the one who hit the road all those years ago?" His face twisted disdainfully. "Surprised she let you back in the door. Maybe my odds are better than I thought."

Heeseung didn't budge. "You're not wanted here," He said steadily.

"You like playing house with someone else's kid?"

"If that's what you wanna call it, then yeah, I do." He retorted, eyes darkening. "You need to go."

"That's my daughter," Jace said, pointing at Hana. He looked at you then, eyes darting around your face. "Our daughter."

Your heart twisted painfully at that—our daughter—the words you used to pray to hear. The ones he used to spit at you, like she was some kind of disease you'd brought him.

“Figured it was time I start being a part of her life,” He said, fingers twitching like he was thinking about reaching out, touching her. 

You took a step backward, your grip on Hana tightening. Heeseung’s hand was at your back instantly, steadying you.

"Why are you really here?" You asked. "You could have shown up any time before this."

Jace's face changed, that look of forced regret that you'd come to know so well settling over his sharp features. "I didn't know if you wanted me here, y/n. You said some harsh things last time we saw each other."

You frowned. “You didn’t know if... Jace, I called you— I..." You bit your lip, trying to focus on the feeling of Heeseung's thumb smoothing over your lower back.

"I know. And I know I should have been there..." He rubbed at the back of his head. "You know how hard it was for me. I wasn't... I wasn't ready."

"And you want me to believe that suddenly you are?"

He frowned. "Why are you acting like I was never there for you?"

"Because you weren't."

Your heart beat wildly in your chest. Jace had this way of making you feel small. You’d been through it before—his ability to twist every conversation, to make you question your own instincts.

You hated how easily he was doing it now.

"You know, I remember what it was like.” His voice was careful, measured. “When you were alone. When he was gone. I’m surprised you’ve forgiven him so quickly."

Your face hardened.

“Does he know what a mess he left behind when he took off to go prancing around onstage for a bunch of teenage girls?”

“Stop it, Jace.”

You saw what he was trying to do—force himself between you and Heeseung so he could wedge back into your life. You weren’t going to let him do it. 

"What? You don't want him to know what a mess you were? How I had to pick up the pieces after he tossed you aside like you were nothing? Don’t act like I wasn’t there for you, y/n. We both know that’s not true.”

Your looked away, heat rising to your face. His words were dredging up memories you’d tried hard to forget. Moments that filled you with shame and disappointment: the nights you’d spent crying into his chest—long before the pregnancy, before the distance grew between you—begging him to help you forget about Heeseung.

The way you’d let him slip back in even after he'd left you and Hana, just for the help, just for the comfort of not being completely alone. Moments that you swore you'd never repeat.

"I was the one you'd call when you were scared and alone. I was the one who came over when you felt like you were doing everything wrong." He looked at Heeseung then. “You know she still calls me? Every time something’s up with Hana, I get a message. Did she tell you that?”

Heeseung’s face was hard, the edge of his jaw sharp as he ground his teeth. You hadn’t told him that. 

It wasn’t like you were talking to Jace all the time, and the number of texts you sent him went down significantly when Heeseung reentered your life, but… he was the father of your child. 

A part of you still clung to the idea that Hana would get to grow up knowing her dad. Could anyone fault you for trying to include him when it mattered?

“You think I’m gonna feel threatened by a few text messages?” Heeseung said, though you could hear the tension in his voice. 

You glanced at him. This wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going. Still, Heeseung never wavered. He glared at Jace, who crossed his arms and shrugged.

“I just want to make sure you know who y/n’s going to when it really counts.” 

You shook your head, as if clearing his words from your ears. "That's bullshit and you know it. I can’t rely on you for anything. You hated being here. You hated me.”

“Come on, y/n, is that really how you remember me?”

You laughed humorlessly. “It’s exactly how I remember you. You didn't mind it when things were easy—when I was the one carrying all the responsibilities, but when things got hard, you left. You gave up."

"And you think he won't do the same?"

Heeseung bristled beside you.

"You think he won't get sick of you, too? The sad single mom act gets old after a while, believe me."

"Fuck you," You snarled, pressing Hana to your chest as she stirred, letting out a whine at the volume of your voice.

His face twisted, the facade of concern vanishing behind one of anger, and there was the man you knew so well. The one who made you feel trapped, out of control, threatened. The one who couldn't stand being told no.

"I'm the reason you have a place to live," He spat back. "I'm the reason you have a kid to call your own. Why are you acting like I'm the bad guy? You used to love it when I'd come around like this."

Your chest tightened. "I'm taking care of my child."

"You're ungrateful."

Heeseung's fingers closed around the back of your shirt. His voice was sharp, dangerous. "Don't. Don't talk to her like that."

"Why the fuck are you still here?" Jace said, exasperated. "Have I not made myself clear? I've got it. You can run off like you did before. It shouldn't be very hard for you. The way she explained it, it sounded like leaving was the easiest thing you'd ever done."

"Jace," You said, voice low.

"No, we've spent enough time talking about me. How about him? Where were you while y/n was going through all this? If you're so great, why did she need me to pick up the pieces after you tossed her aside?” He looked at you. “What did he say? That things would be different this time around? You’re a smart girl, y/n, I find it hard to believe you’d fall for something like that.”

“You don’t know anything about us.”

Jace’s voice was steady. “I know he doesn’t know you half as well as I do.”

“Bullshit,” Heeseung said.

“Yeah? Try having a kid with someone first, maybe then you’ll get it.”

He scoffed. "Are you an idiot? You left her."

"So did you."

"I'm here now."

Jace held his arms out. "And what do you think I'm trying to do?"

Heeseung balled his fists, clearly trying to contain himself. Hana lifted her head slowly, blinking up at you tiredly.

Jace's eyes were locked on you. "Come on, baby. You're not really gonna kick me out, are you?"

Your throat tightened.

"That's my kid, y/n."

"I want you to go," You said firmly, digging your fingers into your daughter's shirt. "Now."

Jace sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "You're not really giving me much of a choice here."

"Did you not hear what she said?! Get the fuck out!"

He narrowed his eyes at Heeseung, jaw tightening. That infuriatingly calm demeanor that always used to send you spiraling. He held his hands up. 

"Look, I don't want to make your life harder. Especially you, man," He nodded at Heeseung. "I know you have a reputation to keep up. I'd hate for your fans to catch wind that their fav is too busy hanging around another guy's kid to keep singing his little songs."

You inhaled sharply. Heeseung tensed

The threat hung between them, crackling with energy. Heesueng kept his eyes on Jace as he made his way towards the door, his jaw set.

"I'll let you two think about that. See you soon, y/n."

The door closed behind him, plunging the room into an almost suffocating silence. Hana whimpered softly against your shoulder, and you rocked her gently, though you hardly realized you were doing it. Your pulse thundered in your ears.

Heeseung hovered beside you, his expression taut. He was breathing hard, the adrenaline of the interaction still fresh in the clench of his fists, the rigid line of his jaw.

His thumb brushed lightly against your shoulder, a wordless reassurance that he was there, he wasn’t going anywhere. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, hurt—something you could see him trying to swallow.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded, your breath shallow. "I'm sorry you had to see that," You said, meeting his gaze hesitantly. 

He was staring at the counter, where Jace had been leaning when you first walked in. You could practically see his mind racing, the thoughts flying behind his eyes as he worked his way through his emotions. 

“I didn’t know you still talked to him,” He said flatly, not meeting your eyes. His voice was calm, neutral, but you knew that look on his face. 

He was trying not to care. And he was failing miserably. 

“I…” You started. “I don’t, Heeseung. Not really. It’s been weeks—”

“Weeks?” He looked at you.

The hurt was plain on his face. He’d been with you for three months—Hana had started walking, learned how to say your names—and the news that you’d been talking to your ex during that time seemed to crash over him, his expression falling. 

You felt your throat tighten, defensiveness creeping up the back of your tongue. Jace was the father of your child. The man responsible for giving you your daughter. Did it really bother Heeseung that bad? That you had a one-off exchange every now and then to check in about your kid? 

Of course, it did. 

“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you,” You managed, searching his face. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

His tone made you wince. Not because it was loud, or angry, but because he sounded genuinely hurt.

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you, I just— Look, nothing’s going on between us, Heeseung. I would never do that to you—”

“God, no, y/n,” He said, stepping away as he ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” You asked defensively, fidgeting with the edge of Hana’s shirt. She had her fingers on your necklace, blissfully unaware of the tension growing between you and Heeseung.

“It is a big deal, y/n. Not because I think something is going on— I would never—” He huffed, frustrated. “I’m trying to be here for you. For both of you. I wish you would let me.” 

“I am! That’s her dad, Heeseung! Are you really angry with me for trying to involve him in her life?”

“Yes! I am, actually.” He put his hands on his hips, his soft features hardened by the frown on his face. “What the hell could he possibly bring to her life but pain and confusion? Do you really want him around her, y/n? Really?”

You flushed. “I want her to be able to make that choice when she’s—”

He cut you off. “No. You have to make that choice for her. You’re her mom. You’re supposed to keep her safe.”

You tensed, anger rising up your chest. “You don’t get to talk about what being her mom means.”

“I don’t understand why you’d go to him for anything—especially about Hana,” He said angrily. 

“It’s not for you to understand! You don’t know what it’s like—” 

“He practically broke into your house, y/n! He threatened you—he threatened her.”

“He threatened you,” You snapped. “God, I knew this would happen!”

That shut him up for a second. 

His jaw clenched. “Knew what would happen?”

“This!” You gestured at him. “That it was going to be too much, trying to balance your career and being here with us. You were going to have to choose eventually.”

His expression broke, actually broke. He looked away as his face cracked, eyes glassy. Hanna began to fuss against your chest, glancing between you with an upset expression on her face.

The sight of both of them broke your heart.

“You know what happens if people find out, Heeseung. You know.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care.”

“They’ll tear her apart. They’ll tear me apart.”

“I won’t let that happen!” He snapped. Then he looked at you, brows furrowed, the pain written across his face. “How could you say that to me? That I’d have to choose? You know I— You know that I choose this. Choose you.”

“Then what do you want from me!?”

“I want you to choose me back.” He stared at you, his lip trembling like he was a second away from breaking down completely. “I want you to rely on me. You think I can’t handle it, and I’m trying to show you that I can!”

“You heard what Jace said.”

“You think I give a fuck what he says? I’ll protect you, y/n— We’ll protect you.”

“And if he really does it?” 

He paused, his gaze flickering uncertainly.

“If he leaks our relationship and people find out. Your fans get pissed off. They come for me and my daughter, they tear us apart. Threaten your future. What then? Are you still gonna be choosing me when that happens?”

He stared at you. “I don’t understand why you’re pushing me away.”

The words kept coming, bitter and breathless, like they were choking you. Tears welled behind your eyes. “Because, Heeseung. You don’t know what it’s like, to be left again and again and still try to believe someone when they say they’ll stay.” 

You swallowed, voice trembling. “I’m sorry that you’re angry at me. I’m sorry that I text Hana’s dad sometimes, but—” You bit your lip, your vision blurring. “—I don’t know what I’m doing. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I— I’m making it up as I go along, and I just—I just got used to you being here.”

Heeseung’s hand twitched by his side.

“So, if you’re going to go, do it. Now,” You spat, though your voice was weak. You were shaking, clinging to Hana like she was a lifeline, the only thing you could truly rely on. “Just get it over with.”

You felt your throat burn as he stepped towards you. You were used to the aftermath of a fight like this. The insults, the accusations. The days of silence that followed, that left you broken and scared. 

And god, you were scared. Scared that you’d pushed him too far. That he was going to turn and get his things, slam the door closed behind him like Jace was always doing. 

You whimpered as his hands went to your arms, fingers gripping your sleeves. Not harsh—sure. Steady. 

You braced for the sting. The familiar recoil of being pulled away from. The snapping words, the withdrawal, the rejection. But they never came. 

Heeseung’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why do you have so little faith in me?”

Your chest seized. 

He looked pained. “I don’t know how else to show you that I’m here, but I’m trying.” 

You couldn’t help it—you started to cry.

His voice was quiet, earnest. “You can trust me. I want you to trust me.” He said it firmly, pulling you to his chest as if he just said it the right way, said it enough times, the words might sink into your skin. Might finally stick. 

The moment you were in your arms, that you realized he wasn’t leaving, the weight of it all came crashing down. Your breath caught in your throat, your hands shaking.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped out. “I’m sorry I said that. Heeseung—”

He pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. “I know. It’s okay.” 

Smushed between you, Hana began to squirm, her voice rising in protest. Heeseung pulled away enough to look down at her. 

You watched as he brushed her hair out of the way, his face soft, and sorry, and scared. It was written all over him—the way he had one hand wrapped around you, the other thumbing gently at Hana’s cheek—he was scared of losing you.  

The same way you were about him. 

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” Heeseung said, leaning down to look at Hana. The words were meant for her, but they sank into your heart all the same. 

We’re okay. 

You pressed your face to the top of her head and closed your eyes, allowing the lingering scent of salt and sunscreen to soothe the last of your unease. 

We’re okay. If you could believe in nothing else, you believed in that.  

You fell asleep that night with your face pressed against Heeseung’s neck, his heart thrumming gently against your cheek. Lying there with his arms around your shoulders, it was hard to remember that you’d fought at all, or that there had been anything to fight about in the first place.

Jace seemed a world away. The words you’d thrown out of fear and defensiveness seemed a world away. For that blissful night, you believed what he’d said: that he would protect you, and that as long as you were together, nothing was going to get between you and your family. 

But it was never going to be that simple. 

——

Things were tense for the next few days. There was no outright evidence to point to—no tone, no passive aggressive comments, no real change in behavior. They were just… different. 

Heeseung seemed to be treading more carefully around you. He no longer stepped in to help you with Hana where he saw fit, like she was just as much his responsibility as she was yours.

You’d never minded when he did that. His instincts were usually right, and you liked that he felt a sense of entitlement to caring for her. It was a wordless sort of reassurance that you’d come to rely on. 

Now, he waited for you to ask him for help, as if scared of overstepping a boundary that you couldn’t remember ever placing. He hovered. He was there the moment you needed him, but that sense of belonging, of being a single unit, it seemed to get smaller and smaller.

You tried not to read too much into it. He wanted you to trust him.

That’s what he had said. 

That he wanted you to rely on him, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that your days of second-guessing yourself and your relationship could finally be over. 

But it was hard for you. Of course, it was. You really did try, but it wasn’t easy when he seemed quieter than usual. It wasn’t easy when his once steady hand around Hana’s waist became hesitant, unsure. 

And it wasn’t easy when he got a phone call Sunday afternoon, and stepped into the hallway to take it. 

“Hey Heeseung, can you come back to the dorm? Management is here.” 

Jungwon’s voice was casual, but there was an underlying that edge that made Heeseung’s stomach twist uncertainly. 

“Sure. Is everything okay?” He asked, glancing back at you and Hana playing on the carpet. 

“It’s fine. Just get here when you can.”

You looked up from the living room floor as he hung up the phone. 

“Was that Jungwon?”

He nodded, grabbing his jacket from the couch. “Yeah, management is at the dorm. I guess they’re calling everyone in.” 

You didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty that crossed his face, the interaction with Jace still fresh in both your minds. But Hana was climbing across your legs, her hands grabbing at the strands of hair falling out of your braid, and the look was gone as soon as it came, replaced by one of soft encouragement at your daughter’s venturing. 

Heeseung squatted down, brushing the hair out of her face and giving you a kiss on your temple. “I’ll be back later, okay? I’ll text you.” 

“Okay,” You said, your throat tightening as he got up, the smell of his cologne lingering as the door shut behind him. 

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach in the silence that followed, but you did your best to push it away. We’re okay. Heeseung’s words echoed in your mind, and despite the age-old insecurities that still lingered in you, you chose to believe him. 

He’d be back later. He’d text you. You’d fall asleep the same way you had for the past few months, wrapped within his protective embrace and comforted by the fact that no matter what happened, you had each other. 

Only, he didn’t text you later that night. 

In fact, he didn’t come back at all. 

——

“This is bullshit.” 

Heeseung stood in the middle of his dorm’s living room, jacket in his hands, shoes still on as if ready to bolt out the door at any moment. And he wanted to. 

He was furious.

He’d told you he’d be back. That he would text you when he was on his way, but his phone—along with everyone else’s—now resided inside a cardboard box that was tucked securely under the arm of their manager, Sejin. 

“It’s just while we figure out how serious this guy is,” Sejin reminded him for what was probably the tenth time that night.

Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. “That’s bullshit!” He repeated, looking to the others for backup. 

They were scattered around the living room, looking equally annoyed at the news, but not very eager to chime in. 

The email had come that morning. An vague threat from an unfamiliar contact that Heeseung had no trouble identifying as Jace. The members had been gathered back at the dorm to discuss the next step in dealing with this, and the plan that was proposed made Heeseung want to throw something at the wall. 

Instead, he huffed at his groupmates’ silence, and shook his head. “You can’t keep us here,” He said angrily.

Sejin was exasperated. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“Give me my phone back.”

“We can’t risk it, Heeseung. You know that.”

“At least let me call her!” 

“Heeseung, stop it!”

Sejin’s voice bounced off the walls. He pointed a finger, knuckles white. 

“You are the reason that we’re in this situation in the first place. I told you restarting this relationship was a mistake, and now we have threats—serious threats—that someone is going to go public with this information.” 

Heeseung ground his jaw, fists clenching by his side. 

“Do you even understand what happens if this leaks?” Sejin stared him down, wearing a look Heeseung hadn’t seen since he was a trainee. The one that said he was in charge, and that Heeseung would do well to remember it. 

It made his hair stand on end. 

“If this story breaks, you can say goodbye to the comeback. To the tour. Your MNET nomination—any nominations. This won’t just tank your name, it’ll drag the whole group down with it.”

Heeseung’s gaze flicked toward the others, who sat silently, watching.

“None of them asked to be part of this,” Sejin went on, his tone sharp. “And now you’ve made them targets for a potentially career-ending scandal.”

Heeseung could hardly speak, he was so angry, “I’m not saying it’s not a big deal, but dating scandals come out all the time! We’ve survived worse, I don’t understand—”

Sejin slammed his hand on the table, causing everyone to flinch. “It’s not a dating scandal, Heeseung! She has a kid. That changes everything. You know it does.” 

Heeseung bit his lip, so furious that his hands were trembling. He felt his rage contort into something else, something worse. Shame. Helplessness. Guilt. 

Of course, he knew that this was serious, that he’d put the others at risk for something that didn’t involve them, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear from his manager. Not even close.

Sure, he could comfort you. He could tell you everything would be alright until he was blue in the face, and he’d mean every word of it. But what he wanted—god, he felt so stupid—what he needed was for someone to say the same to him.

To tell him it would be okay.

That this would blow over. That someone was handling it. That he didn’t have to fix everything himself.

Because the honest truth was that Heeseung was scared. 

The interaction with Jace had shaken him more than he could admit. He wanted to be strong for you, to protect you and Hana from whatever complications might come with your being together, but he felt powerless now. 

He wanted someone to tell him that it was going to be okay. And Sejin wasn’t giving him that. Not even close.

“Stop thinking about yourself for one second and think about what happens if your name becomes associated with this kid,” He continued. “She’ll be the first thing that comes up when people look up anything related to you. Yours or not, she’ll be your headline. Your scandal. Your mistake.”

Heeseung glared, his voice low. “She’s not a mistake.” 

Sejin didn’t budge. “It doesn’t matter what she is to you. She’s a liability to everyone else.”

“This isn’t fair.”

He held a hand up. Final. “No phone. No calls. No leaving this dorm until we hear back from our lawyers.”

“Sejin—”

“I’m not asking, Heeseung.” His voice was low. Dangerous. 

The other looked between them nervously. Jungwon was perched on the arm of the couch, looking as though he wanted to say something but feared he might receive the same treatment Heeseung had.

He hesitated. “I think y/n should know what’s going on.”

Sejin sighed. “Jungwon, you heard what I—”

“I’m not saying Heeseung should be the one to do it,” He said quickly. “I just think you should tell her what’s happening. She’s going to wonder why Heeseung isn’t messaging her, and she might come here. It’ll be even worse if someone gets a picture of her outside the dorm.”

Sejin paused, considering his words. “Fine. We’ll get in touch with her. But that’s it,” He said seriously, eyeing Heeseung. 

Heeseung bit back everything he wanted to say, everything he should have said, as the team shuffled out of the dorm. He kept his fists clenched by his side as the door slammed shut, leaving them all in silence.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, Heeseung collapsed into a chair and ran a hand through his hair. He sighed.

“I’m sorry,” He managed, struggling to look at the others.

Sunghoon shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

The others murmured in agreement. 

“You didn’t ask this guy to go sharing your personal life with the public.”

“No, but I should have known better,” He insisted, bouncing his leg restlessly. “God, I told y/n I’d be back tonight. She’s probably freaking out right now.”

Jake moved in, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down. “What happened anyways?” 

“Yeah, how did this guy even find out about you?” Jay came to join them at the table, the others following suit.

Heeseung broke into a long-winded explanation of how the evening had unfolded—getting home from the beach, seeing Jace there in the kitchen. The way he had spoken to you, like he was responsible for every good thing in your life. 

Like he was the reason you had anything to call your own. Like he was the reason Hana was growing up so well. Like you weren’t the one who had fought tooth and nail to give your daughter a good life.

Just thinking about it made Heeseung’s hands ball in his lap.

“So he, like, broke in?” Jake asked incredulously. “Like, was just waiting for her to get home?”

“Yup.”

“I’m glad you were there with her,” Sunghoon said. “Who knows what would’ve happened if she was alone.”

Jungwon was quiet for a while before he glanced at Heeseung. “I can’t imagine how overwhelming this must be.” 

“It’s fine… I just wish we were together right now, you know?” Heeseung sighed.

“Not for you. For y/n.”

He looked up.

“Maybe…” Jungwon said, speaking slowly, “Maybe this is good. The space, I mean.” 

Everyone looked at him.

He held his hands up. “I’m just saying—this is a lot, right? The press, her ex, Hana..”

Heeseung blinked. “What are you trying to say?”

Jungwon hesitated. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, because it’s not. It’s just…” His voice softened. “Y/n’s had a really hard time. And I don’t think we’re making things any easier for her.”

It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even wrong. But it hit Heeseung like a blow to the stomach. 

Not we, he thought. Me. 

Sunoo looked between them, watching the emotions that passed over Heeseung’s face—the way his shoulders dropped, how quiet he became.

He half-laughed, clapping his hand on Jungwon’s shoulder. “Oh, come on, I don’t think that’s true,” He said lightly. “I mean, you might be right, the space might be good—but she loves you, Heeseung. And she’s tough. She can handle more than we give her credit for.”

Heeseung nodded, suddenly wishing that he was alone. 

He didn’t say anything. Not when the others chimed in to agree, not when the conversation began to shift, not even when they dispersed to hang out in their rooms or go back to gaming on the couch. 

He just sat there, Jungwon’s words replaying in his mind.

I don’t think we’re making things any easier for her.

It looped in his head like a chorus, burning at the back of his throat like a pill he couldn’t quite swallow. Jungwon hadn’t meant it to be harsh, but Heeseung couldn’t let go of it.

You’d had a hard time. He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t ask for this.

The worst part? It was the truth.

You hadn’t asked for any of this. Hadn’t asked Heeseung to come back into your world. Hadn’t asked him to help you. Hadn’t wanted to complicate your daughter’s life. You’d only started opening up because Heeseung had practically begged you to let him in. 

Because he swore he could handle it. Because he thought loving you would be enough. 

He pushed away from the table, biting back all his anger and frustration. In his room, he paced, sat down on his chair, got back up again. When he collapsed onto his bed, he reached for his phone on instinct, only to remember that it wasn’t there. 

He sighed. 

He just hoped that Sejin had messaged you already. That he’d made it clear Heeseung wasn’t blowing you off, and that everything would be alright. 

That wouldn’t be long before you’d hear from him again. 

——

Hello, Due to internal circumstances, Heeseung is no longer available for contact. Please do not attempt to reach out to him or any other member of this team. 

The buzz of your phone made you jolt, disturbing the momentary spell of shallow, restless sleep you’d managed to slip into. 

It had been a rough night. 

Hana had cried, and cried, and cried. She’d gotten used to Heeseung being there to put her down for the night, to the sound of his voice as he read—sometimes even sang—her to sleep. He was good at getting her to settle, even when she was at her most agitated. 

But he hadn’t done either of those things. 

He hadn’t even come home. 

You sat up as you read the message, blinking at your screen. You read it again. 

And again. 

And again.

Heeseung is no longer available for contact. Please do not attempt to reach out. 

Your body tensed, clutching your phone in your hand as if to make sure that it was real. That your mind wasn’t playing a cruel joke, taking advantage of your lack of sleep and weakened emotional state to recreate your worst nightmare. 

But no. The text stared back at you from your screen. Incredibly real. 

Heeseung is no longer available for contact. 

Do not attempt to reach out. 

You felt your resolve snap, the poorly constructed sense of calm and rational you’d been clinging to splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. 

You let out a laugh. Sharp. Humorless. Half in shock and half at the irony of the situation. 

Above the text, was another grey message bubble. The only other message you’d ever received from this number, date stamped to three years ago, glaring up at you with a sick glow that still made your stomach twist when you looked at it. 

Hi Y/N,  As you know, ENHYPEN will be departing for their debut tour soon. After thorough consideration, it’s been decided that Heeseung and the rest of the group’s attention should lie solely on preparing for this major step in their careers. We thank you for your understanding and ask that you do not join us at the airport tomorrow. We wish you the best. 

HYBE Management 

You curled forward, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles went white. 

Everything came back. 

Everything you’d been trying so hard to forget over the past three months. Heeseung’s silent departure from your life, the wordless goodbye, the way you didn’t even get to ask any questions. The decision had been made for you, just like it was being made now. 

Were you really here again? Stuck in the same situation that had haunted you for months on end? Eyes glazed as you read and reread a message sent as carelessly as if you were some stranger on the street?

It wasn’t just the content of the message that stung; it was the method. 

After everything—the laughter in the kitchen, the soft, stolen moments in the hallway, the promises Heeseung had whispered against your skin like they were prayers—you got this? 

A text. Faceless and clinical, like you were inconsequential. Insignificant. Nothing. Your eyes burned with a kind of pain that was older than your relationship, older than your daughter, older than you. 

The kind that came with realizing you’d ended up exactly where you swore you wouldn’t. Exactly where Heeseung had promised you’d never be again. 

It was hard not to panic. Not to sink to the floor and fall apart, the way you had the first time you felt the stinging slap of reality hand-delivered by a text message just like this. 

Your mind replayed a thousand moments of comfort—his fingers wrapped around yours, his protective hand on your back, the jokes, the reassurances, the I’m right here’s—clinging to the possibility that you were misunderstanding something. 

Things were different now, weren’t they? Heeseung had made a promise—he’d promised—that he was going to be there. Didn’t that mean anything?

You took a breath. Steeled yourself. 

There had to be an explanation for this. Something had to have happened—no way he would do this to you again. 

You closed out of the contactless chat and opened your texts with him. Your face reflected back at you from your most recent exchange: a photo of you and Hana ankle-deep in the ocean, the surf bubbling around her feet.

You clenched your jaw as you typed.

Y/N Management just texted me What’s going on? Call me please

When no reply came, you tried Jungwon. And Sunoo. And even Jake, who’d only ever texted you to get the password for your Netflix account and to ask if you wanted anything from the convenience store. 

No one answered. 

The day passed long and torturous, with no words of comfort from any of the people who had become so central to your life. 

You sent an embarrassing number of texts to Heeseung, each met with stark, painful silence. 

Y/N Can you just tell me what’s going on

Y/N Are we really doing this again?

Y/N I don’t understand. 

And every hour that went by seemed to bring on a new set of emotions, each more turbulent and frantic than the last.

Y/N You couldn’t even spare the time to talk to me face-to-face? 

Y/N I can’t believe we’re back here again. Exactly where we started. 

Y/N You make me feel so fucking stupid Heeseung I never should’ve believed a word out of your mouth

You typed out a hundred different things: long-winded paragraphs explaining that he wasn’t welcome anymore, that he’d never be welcome around you or your daughter again. Cruel, curse-filled insults that stung the back of your throat as you typed them. Rambling sentences that barely made any sense, begging him to just talk to you. To explain what had gone wrong. 

You didn’t send them. You deleted everything you wrote almost as soon as you were done writing it. Your thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button before moving up, your heart thundering at the base of your throat.

Blocked. 

For now. 

Let the silence swallow him instead, you thought angrily, throwing your phone across your bed. 

You focused on Hana, clothing and feeding and playing with her, trying to ignore the way Heeseung’s presence seemed to linger around your house like a ghost. 

A hint of his cologne as you walked into the room, like he’d been there only moments before. A glimpse of his silhouette in the corner of your eye, as if he were still there, leaned against the wall, watching you with that half-smile on the corner of his lips. 

Your daughter sensed your shift in mood and became inconsolable herself, pushing your hand away as you fed her, turning her head when you went to kiss her cheek.

“Hee?” She said, frowning at you from her chair at the table. 

It would have killed him, the softness in her voice, the way she stumbled over the syllables of his name. She’d been asking for him all day. You had no way to explain to her why he wasn’t the one feeding her dinner or playing with her on the couch.

“No, baby,” You said firmly, bringing her water bottle from the kitchen. 

Hana glared at you. “Hee,” She said stubbornly, smacking her spoon against the table. 

“He’s not here,” You repeated, trying to keep the edge from your voice. 

“No,” She said angrily.

“Believe me, I’m upset, too.”

“No!” Her spoon clattered to the floor, spraying bits of food across the floor. 

You frowned. “Hana, stop it.”

“No!” She screeched, straining against the safety belt at her lap. 

You tried to get her bowl out of the way, but she was quicker than you, smacking it off the table with a sharp scream. “No!” She screamed, kicking her feet furiously.

You felt tears prick behind your eyes—hot, angry. Her wailing pierced your ears painfully, sending a wave of helpless frustration over you. 

Where was your tantrum? Why couldn’t you scream and cry until someone came to comfort you? Your vision blurred as you picked the spoon and bowl up from the floor, dropping them into the sink.

You braced against the counter, trying to steady the wave of emotion that you’d been struggling to contain. Trying even just to breathe. Heeseung would have been offering to wash the dishes for you by now, or finding some way to distract Hana while you caught a moment to yourself.

Instead, you were alone, flinching every time her voice rose, wishing that he were there to help you. The fact that you missed it—missed him—made you feel pathetic. Weak. Like you were the same stupid girl who was still hoping someone else would come and save you. 

Hadn’t you learned anything at all?

The sound of Hana’s screaming kept rising, rough and confused. You looked at her, all red and blotchy from crying, her tiny body fighting to escape her highchair into a pair of arms that weren’t even there to hold her. 

The tears that had threatened you all day finally spilled over, dripping down your cheeks and onto the backs of your hands as you pushed away from the counter, exhausted. 

“I know,” You choked out, voice wavering. “I know you want him. I know, I know. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You pulled at the belt around her lap, and she lunged toward you, arms outstretched. You lifted her gently, careful not to catch her legs on the table as you pulled her into your chest, rubbing her back in a fruitless attempt to ease her distress.

Her face was wet against your neck, voice vibrating against you, feet digging into your stomach. You held her tightly, unable to stop yourself from crying with her. 

You felt so angry. So betrayed. So ashamed. 

How many times had you told yourself not to listen to him? Not to trust what he was offering, which had always sounded too good to be true. 

A stable presence in your life? Someone to help you navigate the uncertainty of raising your daughter? Even just a pair of arms to crawl into at the end of the day? 

Your own child’s father couldn’t offer you that. Why on earth did you think Heeseung would? 

Because he told you he would, your heart said stubbornly. Because he begged you to let him. 

You shook your head, carrying Hana down the hall to the bathroom. That excuse wasn’t good enough. Not for you. The sun set behind the trees, casting your house into a second night of empty silence, and all you could think was:

I knew better. I should have known better. 

——

The next day, Hana woke with a fever.

You stayed home from work, called off the babysitter, prayed that if you kept giving her water and dressing her in her lightest clothes that it’d burn off on its own. 

It didn’t.

Hana’s voice grew hoarse from crying as the day passed by, her temperature continuing to rise and fall long into the night.

You tried to remain calm about it, but you couldn’t help the twinge of unease that crept into the back of your mind as you watched the hours tick by. The sun set as you rubbed a gentle hand on her back. You were still there when it began to rise again the next morning.

Hana fussed in her crib, too tired to cry, too uncomfortable to sleep, as you grew more and more anxious. 

Before you knew it, you were googling symptoms, trying not to catastrophize over every horrible disease and illness the internet suggested she might have.

Mommy forums debated over potential diagnoses and treatments. Some posts offered encouragement, others words of warning. You read story after story of people who’d brushed fevers off as cold symptoms, only to discover their child was experiencing a life-threatening infection. 

DO NOT WAIT!! I made the mistake of waiting to take my daughter to the doctor for a fever and we ended up spending the weekend in the emergency room. Please don’t make my mistake!

Fevers aren’t really something to worry about unless it reaches above 102°F. If they last longer than 24 hours—at ANY temp—go to the doctor immediately. 

You looked at the clock. It was pushing 6am. Your stomach twisted uneasily, a million horrible scenarios spinning through your mind. 

You called your mom, apologizing for waking her up so early as you watched Hana squirm in her sleep, her hair damp with sweat. 

“She’s still burning. It’s been almost a full day.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. You didn’t want her to know how overwhelmed you were. You couldn’t bare the shame that would come with her concern.

“I keep telling myself it’s just a fever, but what if it’s not? What if I’m waiting too long? God, I don’t even know if I can take her in. I had to call out yesterday—my boss is already pissed. If I lose this job...”

“Isn’t Heeseung with you? Can’t he take her?”

Your eyes burned. 

You knew telling your parents about him was a mistake. It had only been a few weeks of being back together, but you hadn’t been able to keep it to yourself. 

You’d been too excited, too happy about being with him to keep it a secret. Now, it only reminded you how foolish you’d been.

“He’s busy,” You lied, throat dry. “Work stuff. You know how it is for them.”

You heard your mom sigh over the phone. “I don’t like that he leaves you alone so often, y/n. Having a kid is a full-time job.”

Your jaw clenched. “Well, she’s not his kid.” 

“No, I suppose not. Can you call Jace? I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a hand with her. At the very least, a ride to urgent care.”

Your grip tightened on your phone. “I guess. I’ll try. Thanks, mom. Sorry for waking you.” 

“That’s okay, honey. Let me know if things get any worse, alright?”

You hummed, settling back into silence as you hung up. 

Can you call Jace? 

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. After your interaction earlier that week, talking to your ex was the last thing you wanted to do. 

If you called him now, everything he said about you would be right. That you still needed him. That you were an idiot for trusting Heeseung. 

You’re a smart girl, y/n, I find it hard to believe you’d fall for something like that. His words burned at the back of your throat.

You could see it now: his smug, gloating face, as he realized that he had you exactly where he wanted you. Alone. Desperate. Nowhere else to go. 

But looking at Hana, you struggled to weigh your resentments toward him against her well-being. If your daughter was in danger, was there anything you wouldn’t do to help her?

Seeing her now, sweating in her crib, cheeks raw from all the crying, you realized that might have to include swallowing your pride. 

You opened your phone again, avoiding the mommy blogs and tabs of medical advice, and found your text messages. 

Heeseung’s name was at the top of the list. 

You hesitated. 

Thumb hovering over his name, you considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this could be an alternative to calling Jace. One you’d been too stubborn to entertain before. One that would likely result in nothing but an answering machine and the bitter taste of disappointment in your mouth.

But was it worth the try?

You clicked on his name, swallowing the lump in your throat as you unblocked his number and called it.  

At first, you were surprised that it even rang. You’d figured Heeseung would have blocked you right back after discovering his texts weren’t sending. But then, you didn’t have any new messages coming in, and he probably didn’t care enough to even realize you’d blocked him in the first place. 

The phone rang.

And rang. 

And rang. 

Unanswered.

You weren’t sure why you stayed on the line. Maybe you didn’t want to believe that this was really over. That his phone was receiving your call and he was actively choosing not to pick up. 

Maybe you just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.

It came out the speaker into your ear, warm and bright, absent-minded, like he had recorded the message in the middle of doing something else. 

“Hey, sorry I missed you. Leave a message or shoot me a text. Talk to ya later. Bye.”

You clutched your phone, breath trembling slightly. 

“Hey…” You began, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that this was the stupidest thing you’d ever done. “Sorry—this is… Hana’s sick. Um, she’s got a pretty bad fever, and I think she needs to see a doctor…” You trailed off, staring at the wall numbly. “Sorry, you clearly don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I guess I just—” 

Your chest tightened, voice faltering. 

“You told me to trust you. You said that I didn’t need to rely on Jace anymore. You got mad at me for relying on him, actually, because you wanted me to rely on you.”

You let out a tired laugh, rubbing a hand over your face. It was hard to believe you were back here. Leaving messages for people who couldn’t care less about you or your problems. 

But who were you kidding? Heeseung was never going to listen to this. Your stream of unanswered texts told you as much. 

“I guess I’m just confused. Confused because I was ready to do it, to stop pushing you away, and then you just… disappeared. And the funny thing is, I’m not even surprised. I mean, this was what I figured would happen all along, right?” 

Your gaze fell, throat burning with a mix of embarrassment and regret. “You’re not even going to listen to this. I’m just gonna… I’m gonna call Jace and see if he can take us to urgent care. Hana’s fever isn’t breaking, and I’m worried it could be something serious. I guess I just thought you might want to know. Anyways… Goodbye, Heeseung.”

Your voice cracked as you hung up, hurrying to find Jace’s contact buried under your other texts. You feared that if you hesitated, even for a second, you wouldn’t do it. 

The line rang twice before he answered. Your throat felt tight, like you wanted to scream, or cry, or throw up. Probably all three. 

“Y/n?” He sounded groggy. It was barely 7am, after all. He was probably just waking up. 

“Jace,” You answered, tensing. “It’s Hana.” 

——

The ride to urgent care was quiet. Jace rested his elbow on the middle console between you, hand close enough that you could have taken it, if you wanted. 

You didn’t.

He sat with you in the waiting room. Listened as the doctor quelled your fears about Hana’s fever. Nodded through the medication explanation and what to do if the fever wasn’t breaking—all as if he was the one who’d be taking care of her.

He managed to convince you to call your boss, who was gracious enough to give you the next few days off. Probably because you sounded half-dead, running on a few measly hours of sleep from two days ago. 

Hana slept the whole time, waking only to protest as the doctor took her temperature, and falling back asleep before you’d even made it out of the building. 

Jace watched the two of you carefully, as if waiting for the right moment to bring up what he’d said before. That he wanted to be a part of your lives. You desperately hoped that he wouldn’t. You were exhausted. And you weren’t sure if you had it in you to fight him off this time. 

He waited until he was pulling into your driveway, his voice carefully even.

“I meant what I said, you know. About wanting to be around.” 

“Jace,” You said quietly, the warning already in your tone.

“I’m not trying to make things harder,” He insisted. “I just—look at her. She deserves to know who her dad is.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. Your head was pounding. “She deserves stability. Not confusion. We can’t—” You took a breath. “I can’t keep letting people into her life who are only going to leave.”

“Come on, y/n. I’m here now.”

You clenched your jaw. “Where were you last month? Or the month before that? She turned two, did you know that?”

“I’m here now,” He repeated, like that was a reasonable answer to your questions.

“You don’t just get to drop in when you feel like it, Jace,” You said harshly, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car. 

He followed, coming around the other side to stop you. He put a hand out as you opened Hana’s door, pushing it closed.  

“Jace.”

“No, I’m not letting you do this anymore,” He hissed, eyes bright and angry. “You think you can just call me when you need something and then toss me aside once you get what you want? What is this, y/n? Why did you call me?”

“Because our daughter is sick! Because I’ve been awake for the past 48 hours, and I didn’t think it was a very good idea for me to get behind the wheel of a car.” 

“Our daughter.” He repeated. “So you can admit that I’m her father but you won’t let me actually be a part of her life?”

“She might be your daughter,” You hissed, “But you will never be her father.” You glared at him, yanking the door handle open again.

He slammed it shut with more force this time, stepping closer.

“Don’t act like this is just about her,” He spat. “You needed someone, and he wasn’t there. So now you need me, right? The backup plan?”

Your mouth fell open. “Is that what you think this is?” Your voice was shaking. “You think I dragged myself out of bed, begged you to come, waited in that doctor’s office for forty-five minutes because I missed you?”

“You always do this,” He snapped. “You call when things are falling apart and then blame me for showing up.”

You shoved past him to open the door, unbuckling Hana with trembling fingers. She stirred, letting out a soft cry. “She doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Because you won’t let her!”

“Because you’re not what she needs!” You snapped back, pulling her to your chest. Her body was still hot. The medication from the doctor rattled in your bag as you adjusted her in your arms. “She doesn’t need people who only show up when I’m out of options—she needs people who are here. Every day. Who don’t disappear when they get tired of playing house.” 

“Oh, you mean like Heeseung?”

The words hit like a slap to the face. 

Jace’s lip curled at your shock. “Why isn’t he the one driving you to urgent care? Don’t tell me, I was right, wasn’t I? He finally figured out what a drag it is dealing with someone else’s kid and hit the road. Right?”

You ground your jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Then where is he, huh? Why’d you call me and not him?” 

“Shut up, Jace. Go home.” 

He stepped in again, hands flexing by his sides, like he knew he’d upset you. Like he was enjoying it. “You wanna play dumb with me? It’s written all over your face, y/n. He’s long gone. Couldn’t even pretend long enough to stick around.”

Your grip on Hana tightened, stomach twisting. “I want you to leave. Now.”

“Right, because you're still holding out hope he'll come crawling back?” Jace scoffed. “I’m her father. I have a right to see her.” “She doesn't know you!” You were yelling now. Both of you. 

“You can’t just keep her from me—”

“She’s not a thing to be kept, Jace, she’s a child!” You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. “And I won’t let you confuse her just because you’re feeling left out.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna sit around hoping he comes back? Or maybe you already have another guy lined up. Is that it? Found someone else to burden with your issues? God, you’re so desperate, it’s pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” You hissed, turning to leave. 

“Don’t you walk away from me.” He grabbed your shoulder, forcing you back around. 

You gasped, shoving his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me, Jace.” 

“I’ll do what the fuck I want—” 

“Jace—” 

But he wasn’t listening. He pushed you. Hard. Shoved his hands into your shoulders like he was testing you, daring you to stand up to him again. Your grip tightened on Hana, panic rising up the back of your throat. He sneered, stepping towards you again. And then—

“Get your fucking hands off of her.” 

Heeseung’s voice. So sharp and furious it didn’t even sound like him. Your breath caught as you turned to see him rushing towards you.

Your voice cracked, half surprise, half disbelief. “Heeseung—” 

He shoved Jace back hard—both hands against his chest, slamming him away from you. “Leave. Now. Fucking get out of here, or I swear to god—” 

Jace made a noise of surprise, stumbling back slightly. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up—”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?!” Heeseung was shouting. Frantic. His chest was heaving like he’d run there. His phone was clutched in his hand, your texts flashing from his screen. “If you touch her again, I will ruin your life.”

“You really think you’re going to scare me off?” Jace retorted. “You think you can walk in here and tell me what to do?”

His voice was sharp. “You put your hands on her.” 

Jace scoffed. “I didn’t hurt her—”

“You grabbed her.” Heeseung stepped forward. “You raised your voice. You pushed her with a baby in her arms.”

“I’m her father,” Jace snapped.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Heeseung spat, hands shaking by his sides. 

“You gonna hit me?” Jace taunted, folding his arms over his chest. “Real classy. Real dad material.”

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a father.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Know more than you? Yes. I’d say I do.” Heeseung’s breath came in sharp bursts. “I’ve been here. Every day that you weren’t. Your daughter turned two last month—where the fuck were you? Gone. As usual. The only reason you’re here right now is because I couldn’t be.” 

You inhaled sharply. Couldn’t be? What was that supposed to mean? Your heart hammered against your chest as Heeseung snapped at Jace, half a mind to just take Hana and leave. To lock your door and ignore them both. But Heeseung kept going, his voice harsh. Accusing.

“I would have been here today,” He said. “If my manager hadn’t taken my phone because of the threat that you sent in.” 

You stiffened. 

“And I’m not going to stand here and let you make them feel unsafe.” He finished. “Not now. Not ever again.”

Your head spun.

Jace had done it? He’d threatened Heeseung’s managers? And they’d reacted by… taking Heeseung’s phone. Of course. Keeping him offline until they could figure out how to handle it.

Your heart stuttered as the realization sank in. You felt sick. 

Jace’s face twisted, his knuckles turning white. “Whatever. Keep acting like you’re better than me. This little fantasy you guys have? Not gonna last.” He looked at you. “Don’t forget who you called for help.”

“She called me,” Heeseung snarled. “How many times does she have to reject you before you get it through your head?”

Jace closed his fists, his voice lowering. “You really want to do this?” 

Heeseung hissed, “I fucking dare you.” 

You tensed, taking a step back. For a moment, it looked like he might really do it. Might really step forward. 

Then, Hana whimpered against your neck, too tired to fully take in the scene unfolding before her.  She reached a hand towards Heeseung, her voice cutting through the air that crackled between them. 

“Hee,” She cooed, pouting tiredly at him. 

Heeseung froze. 

You watched his entire body shift. He turned, breath hitching, shoulders dropping, eyes darting between the two of you. You saw it written all over his face—the regret, the apology. He stepped towards you, hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure you even wanted him to. 

And for a moment, you weren’t sure either. You were still processing what he’d said, what it meant. That he hadn’t ignored you, or disappeared. That Jace was the reason you’d spent the past two days drowning in self-doubt. It took a moment for this to become real, for your mind to catch up to what your heart already knew. 

But Hana was insistent, squirming towards him with surprising strength. You brought her closer, chest aching as you watched her latch onto his hand with her own. 

“Hey, supergirl,” He whispered, leaning down to look at her.

Jace let out a sharp breath behind him. “Unbelievable. You let him—”

“Shut up,” You snapped, your voice low, lethal. 

You looked back at Heeseung, heart racing. He brushed his thumb over Hana’s knuckles and you felt something in you give. Loosen. Like a weight finally falling off your shoulders. 

It took one look at the two of them to confirm what you’d been clinging to all along: Heeseung hadn’t lied to you. He’d meant every word he’d said. About being there. About protecting what was his. And looking at him now, you realized how serious he was. 

But Jace wasn’t done. He was never done. You came to this realization as he growled angrily, balling his fists. He would never be done bothering you, not until you cut him out of your life for good. 

He stared at the three of you disdainfully. “I really do care about her, you know. That’s the funny thing. It’s just a shame that her mom is such a bitch.” 

Heeseung’s face changed. Livid. 

He dropped Hana’s hand and turned—shoulders coiled, fists clenched—like he was ready to swing this time. But the commotion of a group of people stopped him, their voices carrying over from the street. 

Before you could even register it, they were there. All of them—Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki—and they’d heard him.

Sunghoon surged forward and shoved Jace, hard. “Say that again.”

The others stepped around you defensively as Jace grunted, hands flexing like he wanted to shove back. But Sunghoon was tall, taller than Heeseung even, and his expression faltered slightly as he took him in. 

“Great. There’s more of you,” He said, eyes darting around as the rest of them approached.

You felt a twinge of satisfaction at the way he looked between them, counting how many of them there were. Second-guessing his chances. 

“What’s going on?” Jungwon asked, stepping between you.  

“I just said what everyone’s already thinking,” Jace snapped, posture shifting like he was trying to ground himself. “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she? Playing house with seven different guys. She open her legs for all of you or—?”

He didn’t get to finish.

Heeseung lunged first.

The shove was violent, sending Jace stumbling back into the side of his car with a loud thud. You flinched, turning your body to shield Hana as chaos erupted around you.

“Heeseung—” You started, but Jake was already grabbing him by the shirt, hauling him back.

“Let go,” Heeseung snarled. Breath heavy, teeth bared. Vicious. “Let go of me.”

“Not here,” Jake gritted out, struggling to keep hold of him. 

“What the hell is going on?” Sejin snapped, storming up to the group, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of Jace scoffing—bitter, mean. Like a dog backed into a corner; snapping at whatever was within reach. 

“Did I hit a nerve?” He spat, wiping his mouth. “You know what? I should be thanking you for taking her off my hands. That bitch’ll turn on you the second she loses interest.”

Sunoo moved fast, stepping in between Jace and the others before Heeseung could break free. “Get the fuck out of here,” He said sharply, his usual sweetness replaced by something colder, more lethal. “Now. Before we make you.”

“You’re not gonna do shit,” Jace sneered. But there was hesitation in his voice. He was outnumbered. Everyone knew it. 

Jungwon’s voice was hard. “You’re not welcome here. You show up again and you won’t be walking away.”

That made him pause. You could see the cracks forming in his confidence. His eyes skirted over the wall of people between you, and for the first time, he looked scared. 

Sejin shoved his way through the group. He wasn’t the tallest person there—not by a long shot—but his presence was sturdy. Protective. Not just of his team, but of you, and your daughter. 

“Jace Mitchell.” The name was sharp on his tongue. 

Jace’s eyes darted over him. “What.” 

“I’m glad we get to meet. You’ll be receiving contact from our legal team by tomorrow morning,” Sejin said, holding a hand out to steady Heeseung, who was shaking, fists clenched, brows taut. 

Sejin’s voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even angry. It was critical. Deathly serious. “The email you sent earlier this week contains a documented threat of blackmail. One that we are taking very seriously.” 

Jace scoffed. “That wasn’t—“

“It was,” Sejin interrupted. “You threatened to disclose private information about an individual and a minor, along with a member of our company. A highly protected member of our company. We have the message and we have your contact information with it. I'm sure a lawyer—which I strongly suggest you get in touch with—can explain the gravity of that.”

“You think I care about your stupid company?”

“I think you care about your job. And being within fifty feet of your daughter.”

Jace’s smile faltered. 

“We take our employee’s safety very seriously. If you make contact again in any form—text, phone, email, in person—without y/n’s explicit consent, I will have a restraining order filed within twenty-four hours. You will never see that little girl again.” 

Jace’s jaw ticked. 

He looked around them before his eyes landed on you. Cold, accusing, full of hate. 

He raised his hands. Surrendering. “I tried. You remember that. When this—” He pointed at Heeseung. “—doesn’t work out, don’t come crawling back to me.” 

You glared back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His gaze swept over you, at your daughter asleep against your chest, at the way Heeseung was murmuring to the both of you, making sure you were alright. 

“Whatever,” He muttered. “More trouble than you’re fucking worth.”

You watched him turn towards his car, fist shaking around his keys. Then, like he couldn’t help himself—

”Fucking slut.” He hissed under his breath. 

Heeseung rounded, the others exclaiming as he stepped towards Jace. Jungwon grabbed him by the arm roughly, yanking him back, as Jace ducked into his car. 

Jungwon slammed the door shut behind him, cursing as Jace's car pulled out of your drive. 

For a moment, no one moved. The others were breathing heavily, their faces sharp with disgust. 

Then, the exhaustion hit. Full force. The emotional wreckage of the past forty-eight hours crashed over your body, dragging you under. Your arms weakened, struggling to support Hana’s weight as she fussed against your hold. 

“Y/n,” Heeseung said, already moving towards you.

Someone—Niki, you determined tiredly—took Hana from your arms as you stepped into Heeseung’s embrace, collapsing against his chest. In relief or exhaustion, you weren’t quite sure. 

“I’m so sorry,” He breathed. “I’m so sorry— I tried to call you. They took my phone, they wouldn’t let me. I got your messages when they gave it back, and your voicemail, I— Are you okay?”

You shook your head, whimpering lightly. You could feel the heat of his heart at the base of his throat, pounding against your cheek. “No,” You said weakly. “Heeseung— I thought—“ 

You couldn’t even get the words out. Your brain was practically mush, spent from the emotional whiplash of everything that had happened. His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into you like he feared you might pull away.

“I know. I’m so sorry. I swear, if I could’ve been here—”

He pulled away, letting you go just enough to reach behind Niki to where Sejin was standing, yanking him towards you by the jacket. 

“Well?” Heeseung said, frowning at his manager. 

Sejin gave him a sideways look before rolling his eyes and sighing. He looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, y/n. I was the one that texted you. I admit it wasn’t the most informative message—“

“It wasn’t informative at all,” Heeseung interrupted. “Like, not even a little.” 

Sejin pursed his lips. “Yes. It was poorly done on my part. I apologize for any distress I caused. Our focus was on keeping our team safe, I hope you can understand.”

You nodded, dazed, struggling to even remember what the text had said. All you knew was that Jace was gone. Heeseung was here. And you needed to rest. Immediately. Or you wouldn’t be standing much longer. 

The others recounted the story of getting there as you went inside. Of how Heeseung had reacted after getting his phone back, reading all of your texts, listening to your voicemail. 

How he’d demanded that Sejin show him the message he’d sent you, and then insisted that they come straight here. 

“He was freaking out,” Jake said, bouncing Hana gently on his lap. 

“We got stuck in traffic, and he literally got out of the car. That’s why he got here first. He ran the rest of the way,” Jungwon laughed.

Heeseung’s ears turned slightly pink but he didn’t deny it. 

“I was scared,” He reasoned, frowning as they continued to tease him. “You said Hana was sick, I didn’t know if she was okay— You said goodbye!! Like we were breaking up or something!” 

“Yeah, Heeseung’s worst nightmare,” Niki laughed. 

Heeseung shot him a glare but didn’t move his arm from behind you. If anything, he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t stand to be apart from you again, not even for a moment. 

“I was scared, too,” You sighed, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “I’m sorry that he caused so much trouble for you. And that you had to see all of that. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t—“

“No way,” Jake said immediately, voice firm. “None of this is your fault, y/n.”

“We’re just sorry that we didn’t communicate with you better,” Sunghoon agreed. “Sejin is…”

“Blunt.”

“Good when you need to smack someone’s crazy ex down. Not so much when you need to deliver sensitive information,” Jay said. 

A laugh escaped you, quiet, tired, but genuine. You felt your shoulders begin to drop, days worth of anxiety melting away. Being there with them—Heeseung’s sturdy presence beside you, the softness in the others’ voices as they cooed at Hana—healed something in you that, for a few days, you were sure might never heal again. 

Your attention drifted back to your daughter, to the way she was beginning to droop against Jake’s chest, her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt. Her lashes fluttered, torn between watching the toys in his hands and giving in to how tired she was. 

Yours felt similarly, your head growing heavier and heavier against Heeseung’s shoulder. 

He pressed his lips to the top of your hair. “Time to go?” He murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You nodded, grateful as he straightened to usher the others out. God, how you’d missed him. The soft attentiveness in his voice, how he always had his eye on what you needed. How he made sure you were the priority. Every single time. 

Part of you wondered how you’d doubted him in the first place. 

“Alright guys, time to head out,” He said. He clasped Jay’s hand, pulling him for a hug. “Thank you. For being here. Backing us up.”

“Always,” Jake said, lifting Hana carefully from his chest and handing her to you. “If you need anything, we’re here.” 

“See you later, y/n,” Jungwon said, rubbing your back affectionately. 

You hugged him, chest tight with emotion. You’d never be able to explain what their presence meant to you. How grateful you were to have them—all of them—in your life. 

They grabbed their things and slipped their shoes back on, shuffling out the door. 

“Dinner this weekend? Same old-same old?” 

You nodded, grinning. “Of course.”

You wished you could say you and Heeseung had some kind of heartfelt, emotional reunion when it was just the two of you. Filled with tears and happy kisses, mumbled apologies and promises. 

But you didn’t. 

You were out. Immediately. The second your body hit the mattress, shoulders curled into Heeseung’s chest, your head tucked beneath his, you were asleep. 

He stayed up for a while, unable to tear his eyes from your face, or keep his heart from racing at the feeling of finally having you in his arms again. 

His chest ached at the memory of your voice through the phone. How broken you sounded. How sure you were that he’d left you. You’d really believed he was gone. That you were alone again.

He would never forgive himself for that.

And if he hadn’t been sure before, he certainly was now: he was never letting you out of his sight again. At least, not for a while. 

He still had tours to think about. There were obligations he couldn’t avoid, stretches of time when the distance would be real, and difficult. But he wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Didn’t worry that it would create space between you.

He wanted to keep going. To do well. Not just because you’d always been proud of him—celebrated every success like it was your own—but to support you. To make sure you never had to worry about caring for your daughter again. 

Heeseung was serious about you. As serious as a person could be about someone else. 

And he was going to make sure you never doubted it again. 

[chillinwithbyler]

Something that I truly believe the GA just won't understand is how much Stranger Things can actually teach you.

Like, we have a plethora of diverse characters and no two people are the same.

Will is a sensitive person, more so than ANY other character in the show. He cries, he likes to paint, and he loves EVERYONE even when they've hurt him. He's one of the characters who bears a lot of trauma, but he doesn't let it shape who he is. Will is DIAGNOSED with PTSD. God forbid he lets himself cry. He never gets angry at people because of what happened to him, and he always dismisses it if he's going through something. And his biggest problem is Mike 'We're friends. We're friends!' Wheeler.

Joyce is a baddie. She doesn't need no man on her shoulder to be a good mother. When Will went missing, she fought tooth and nail to bring him home even when EVERYONE, even her eldest son, was calling her crazy. She's a leader and she's a character who has so much willpower and doesn't let anything stand in her way.

At first glance, Jim is a fucking asshole. I didn't like him when the series was just starting out. But that's what makes it so good, because he wasn't an asshole for no reason. He lost his KID. And he was given a second chance with El. He can do it better this time and he's going to be there for her as long as he can help it. In season five, I'll expect them to be a separate team from the others. Which is what she deserves. She doesn't need to be with Mike to be an amazing character.

Nancy, Joyce, Robin, and Max are all GREAT examples of women who can lead without some MAN telling them what to do. El can be the same. What she needs is the chance to be independent and learn about herself. Mike can't give her that. She needs to figure that out for herself.

Billy was an asshole. Through and through. There was no excuse for him to be racist towards Lucas, even if he had a bad childhood. Just look at what Will went through, and he's still a fucking angel, so Billy literally has no excuse.

The amount of feminism that Nancy projects is INSANE. She doesn't listen to anybody and when she has an idea she GOES FOR IT. When something bad happens? SHE GRABS A GUN. When someone says she should do something this specific way, it's BULLSHIT and she does it her own way. When the kids are in danger, she puts herself directly in the path of danger.

Mike is one of the most complex characters in the show. He's a natural born leader and goes out of his way to save people. When he first met El, he didn't save her out of LOVE. He did it because he's a protector. Originally, he was going to send her back to the asylum and only let her stick around because she knew where WILL was. And that's what was important. Will. He was hellbent on finding him. In season five, I can GUARANTEE he won't be leaving Will's side. And the only time they'll be separated will probably be because Will is off his rocker this season and too busy fighting internal demons and disappearing all the time.

Because he's been reminded of what's important. And it's not El. She can protect herself. But we know Will can be vulnerable. He doesn't believe he's loved, and that's a good opportunity for Vecna to go after him. Only when he truly starts believing that he is loved will he find the courage to come into his own.

We have so many characters all with different backgrounds. We have mental health, domestic abuse, sexual assault, eating disorders, bullying, homophobia, anger issues, neglect, internalized homophobia, racism, and literal DEMONS FROM HELL.

But you're telling me the GA can't grasp something as simple as two boys falling in love? How emotionally dense do you have to be to be so ignorant?

If you're going to DNF the show just because of Byler, then I'm sorry but you smell like hotdog water and you've missed the entire point of the show. This is about not fitting in. Instead of the protagonists being some..chiseled jocks who are heroric and attractive, we instead have four weirdo nerds obsessed with a game. Four people who are smart as fuck and have been cast out from society and bullied for being different. Especially Will.

And the whole show centers around him. BECAUSE he's different. Growing up and feeling like you don't belong is one of the most difficult things I've ever had to go through. And as a fan of the show since the EARLY days of season one, I can't even begin to describe the happiness I feel when I see Will Byers.

He was not made for you. Will Byers belongs to the people who grew up as a misfit. He belongs to us who feel like mistakes in our own bodies and struggle keeping up with social norms.

Will Byers belongs to US. Not you.

If you have a problem with him because of Noah then I assume you're either a 12 year old who has spent too much time on a screen and not enough time touching grass or you're a 47 year old bald man who doesn't know what common courtesy is.

If you hate on Will just because he's gay then I'm sorry but Stranger Things is not the show for you. Try Riverdale instead. We do not want you here.

Stranger Things is not afraid to put homophobes and racists in their place. Troy pissed himself and suffered a broken arm. Steve got his face ruined and got a redemption arc. Billy literally fucking died. And they aren't afraid to put queers on a pedestal either. To make THEM the important characters. Instead of being sidelined, it's often the queers and the nerds and the people who don't fit in who are given the important roles.

And that's what Stranger Things is all about.

Like it or not, Will is an important character. He deserves this time in the spotlight. When Byler is canon in season five, don't say we didn't warn you. We've been trying to open your eyes since season two.

Byler is the perfect representation of what a HEALTHY and ROMANTIC relationship looks like. Two people are so alike and are quite literally color coded through the whole series and are just so painfully gay for each other it HURTS.

Mil*ven is the perfect representation of what an UNHEALTHY and TOXIC relationship looks like. It's full of arguments, no heart to hearts, NO mutual respect, gaslighting, lying, and literally just zero chemistry.

Over and out.

[syndrossi]

So…the little Lynda Royce AU is really good. I was as upset as Daemon when he was looking around at their meager possessions. It made me think of…wait for it….Restoration! I feel like W!Jon definitely has more things than the twins, but compared to Rob, I’m sure his room is very plain and stark. What are the chances I might get a tiny ficlet where Daemon goes to talk to W!Jon (maybe about how he is never joining taking the black) and he gets sidetracked by how little he has. Please? Bonus, if Jon’s room is in the servants quarters and Daemon realizes that before he found the twins—W!Jon had generously given everything he had (which is not much by Daemon’s standards) to his brothers. So, please?

Daemon also has, shall we say, royal standards. So even Robb's room probably would look sparse to him. 😂 I do think that toys-wise, Jon likely had a pretty decent number. He and Robb would have almost certainly shared some, and although Robb's likely were nicer, I can't see Ned allowing a huge disparity.

The big differences, I suspect, would be in wardrobe and furniture. Good, quality furniture that meets the standards of the Warden of the North is time-consuming and costly to make. Many would be handed down through generations. So Jon's would be plainer, more modest, and just...fewer in general. Same with clothing.

Jon definitely would have tried to find his old toys for the twins, too, even if they're a lot less likely to appreciate them than most "nine"-year-olds.

Tiny ficlet because I do want to focus on Resonant in between job stuff.

x~x~x

"What," Daemon said slowly, "is this?"

Jon met his question with an expression of polite confusion that immediately evoked his younger counterpart. "What is what, Your Grace?"

His formality conjured unwelcome memories of all the times Daemon had called his brother such, whether out of pique or due to stern reminders of his place. "Daemon," he corrected him. "Or kepa, if you like."

"That is what your sons call you."

Daemon, per the tale that Ned Stark himself had constructed to explain his existence, would be the boy's grandfather at best, through marriage rather than blood.

"Did I not make my intentions plain earlier?" Daemon asked. "You are of House Targaryen, and you have protected my sons as surely as any brother." He swept the room once more with his gaze. "And this is no chamber for a prince."

"It was a chamber for three princes by your calculation," Jon said after a moment. "Will—Baelon and Aemon slept here, with me."

Daemon stared at the bed, aghast. It was not even half the width of a bed in Maegor's Holdfast. He could not imagine how the three of them had fit, even with his sons still growing.

The rest of the chamber was as sparse and modest as the bed. The table near the hearth was pock-marked and dented, its chair standing upon its last legs. The window had soot caked around the edges of the glass, both within and without. A small chest stood beside one wall, beside an equally small wardrobe.

The servants within the Red Keep are kept in finer accommodations, Daemon thought with a growing outrage. Ned Stark might have claimed Rhaegar's son as his own, but the boy had not been allowed to forget his place: below his Stark kin, forever lesser.

"You will stay with us, in the guest house," Daemon said, only for his words to be met with a small frown. "What is the matter?"

"This is my room," Jon said.

"No longer." Daemon grasped his shoulder and guided him to the door. "Your brothers await, let us go to them."

[alex51324]

murderbot 1x07

A few preliminary thoughts:

The cold-open Gurathin backstory infodump was pretty clunky even by the standards of this show, but I do like the "we can talk about this" as refrain for incorporating emotional complexities & conflicts into the group's understanding of itself. In the books, SecUnit remarks on the team being without drama and conflict--at least, in terms of its frame of reference--but no group of humans is free of conflict and complex emotional dynamics. I like that they're showing that the PresAux team, and by extension Preservation society, have specific cultural practices for managing these things, instead of just being magic Emotional Intelligence Elves. Subpoint, the call-forward to Mensah admitting to SecUnit that they can be naive helps to underscore that these cultural practices work. Mensah seems surprised to hear Gurathin say that she's naive, but by the time of the conversation with SecUnit, she's incorporated it into her understanding of the group's emotional dynamics.

Murderbot, I feel like the fact that you have actually detected an incoming hopper is a key detail that you could maybe share, in order to get across the urgency of the situation.

Mensah, "stay alive" is a goal, not a plan.

I do not get what the scene of the hostile fauna mating was for. It wasn't terrible, and in a 26-episode season it's the kind of thing I'd love to see for worldbuilding and characterization, but I'm not quite grasping why that was important enough to add to the story when they're dealing with a runtime of (minus previouslys and credits) not much over 3 hours. Anybody have insight into something I'm missing about it?

Sidebar, but I dig how modular the crew uniforms are. I noticed the zip-off shorts early on, but I only just realized that the vest, the jacket, and the coat are all actually the same garment.

The first-aid kit that they use to cut out a chunk of SecUnit's spine doesn't include anything for treating infection and reducing fever? Really?

They're really hammering in the difference between the PresAuxes' reaction to a dead human enemy vs. a dead hostile SecUnit, huh?

[katabay]

ANDREY STAMATIN

Keep a close eye on Peter. You'd become desperate and turn into a villain without him.

I spend a lot of time thinking about daniil and peter, but something just clicked into place for me with andrey. so!

I am. currently untangling this thread of thoughts about the stamatin twins and daniil and this kind of. triangle that's happening. a three fold bullet for sure, the kind of recognition-awareness-understanding where three people become one, but to step back from that. when daniil and andrey talk, there's a specific shape of peter that stands in his conversational absence. so: triangle formation. it's opposite-adjacent-complementary to daniil and peter's conversations. it all goes back to that first conversation you have with andrey. it's giving knife. love it!

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

[whetstonefires]

yeah like. i encountered just enough people writing normal jewish posts in the rather common 'faintly polemical' style that suddenly did a weird jumptwist thing and pivoted into passionate genocide defense without any change in tone, that i did start tensing up when i started reading actual normal posts in that line. bracing against the possibility of getting hit with 'they brought this on themselves' or 'there are no innocent civilians in gaza because x' or some other damn thing, and the insistence that the only type of person who disagrees is a murderous antisemite.

because encountering that stuff by surprise when you aren't braced for it is like a psychic two-by-four to the gut, right?

i don't think you can avoid becoming sensitized to language by association like that. it's going to happen; the issue is then what you choose to do with the emotions that arise.

try to resist the impulse to justify them as rational; they're not wholly irrational since they're based on actual data, but it's decontextualized anecdata so they aren't founded in logic either; they don't represent an underlying truth.

there is a very real phenomenon going on where there are people using longstanding pro-jewish language to embed dogwhistles and just actual whistles for the necessity and righteousness of exterminating the palestinian people. that is a real thing!

(almost indistinguishable in structure and effect from people using pro-palestinian language to embed antisemitic dogwhistles, and in fact actual whistles.)

you cannot, in fact, be certain in isolation whether the reasonable assertion 'jewish people should feel safe' actually reflects an underlying worldview you concur with, in roughly the same way that 'lesbians should feel safe' is a statement that may or may not be coming from someone introducing their case for why trans women must be got rid of.

you don't know. that information is not present.

but you need to keep on top of the fact that this uncertainty is just a thing that exists. you are not responsible for resolving it. it cannot be permanently resolved. you cannot even attempt to resolve it every time it arises without falling into the trap of making it omnipresent in every discussion involving jewish people.

above all you must not make every jewish person carry at all times the burden of resolving that question for you!

if not out of decency and the fact that that's simply unfair to expect, then perhaps because that's exactly what the israeli right wing wants you to do. the more global antisemitism builds up to make being part of a jewish minority unsafe and unpleasant, the more power the reactionary domestic political agenda gains over the diaspora.

that's bad. that is probably the most harm Random Online Joe can do wrt The Israel/Palestine Conflict. so like. try to not.

Jewish queer people deserve to be safe in queer spaces.

[doveywovy]

@tryingahandinholdingapen regarding your question about if tobirama knows that izuna is also weird: tobirama genuinely thinks izuna is the most normal human alive.

izuna is the pinnacle of humanity to him. i can't really explain this it's just intrinsic to his viewpoint of the world.

[unnonexistence]

ok there was a poll going around a while ago about whether you think your 5-year-old self would recognize you, and I'm curious:

[spacebunniesmha]

I don't think some people realize how big of an impact ochako had on the war. Toga had hundreds of thousands of clones ready to kill anyone in their way, it would've been devastating. Ochako stopped that disaster and saved a villians heart in the process. She's so cool‼️‼️

[flame-shadow]

very minor thing i just realized has been annoying me for over a decade

when people learn about drawing tablets that don't have screens, they always act boggled like, "whhoaaa how do you know where you're drawing?? how do you line up your clicks and strokes if you're not looking at where you're drawing???????"

but um. well. have you ever used a mouse? or a trackpad? have you ever made your cursor move without staring at the hand holding the mouse? whoaaaaa. how did you even know how to accurately click on that button if you weren't looking at your finger pressing the button????

like. how silly does that sound? c'mon. it's the same thing.

[collectivelykellen]

our accounting instructor is wonderful. we bombed both of our tests this week because of our dyscalculia (5.56/10 and 3.33/10), and she could tell we were upset after the test today. she came over to us, and when I explained that I'd done really badly and was frustrated because I know what I'm doing. I understand the material and the practical application perfectly, but the act of punching numbers into the calculator and transcribing on paper or electronically is incredibly difficult and 80% of the time, I have to run the calculations 3+ times to be sure the answer is correct.

my instructor told me that it's clear from my assignments and previous tests that I understood my stuff, and sat down with me with both tests. I still had my scrap paper from both, so I showed her and we compared my answers to the answer key, and long story short? she changed my marks on both tests to 100%! apparently what matters to her is that I understand it, she also has a hell of a time with numbers and gets it. we're going to sit down with my midterm exam and the rest of my tests, once they're written! I almost started crying out of relief. she's an incredible instructor, I really love her. I hope I have her for accounting software in the fall.

[moe-broey]

Brain still soup but like. I think making one or both (or more!) characters involved in relationships with each other aromantic makes the dynamic soooooo much more compelling. Because if you remove romance as a motivator, you really get down to the nitty-gritty as to WHY that character is seeking out/involved in those relationships in the first place. Whether that relationship involves romantic factors or is more of a queer platonic thing. Much to think about....

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

ik Doing It Scared is a massive part of helping anxiety and just life in general but I'm still mad about it

[emstargazer]

Look, I always was, am and will be a particularly loud advocate of empathy, but let's not try to force it or perform mental gymnastics to imitate it. Sympathy will sometimes be all you can express to someone and that's fine.

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.