#… wow I feel old now I really can’t believe it’s been so long…

[talesfantastic]

reincarnation au starters

“i feel like we’ve met before.”

“i had a dream about us but in the past last night.”

“do you ever feel like this isn’t the first time you’ve been alive? like you’ve done all this before?”

“i feel like my life is just a constant state of deja vu.”

“i keep having these strange dreams…”

“do you remember our inside joke from the last life?”

“do you remember anything from your past life?”

“do you believe in reincarnation?”

“i remember how i died…”

“i remember dying, it’s not fun.”

“the person in this painting looks just like you.”

“why do you have so many old pictures?”

“does it feel like we’ve done this before?”

“they say i’ve always been talented, it feels like i’ve been doing this since before i was born.”

“remember our first wedding?"

“don’t die before me this time, okay?”

“so, how many lives have you had so far?”

“when i said i wished you had multiple lives like in video games, this wasn’t what i meant.”

“i was royalty last time, this is bullshit.”

“maybe this is punishment for something you did in a past life.”

“try not to die, it takes too long to see you again.”

“hey, at least if i die we’ll know we’ll eventually see each other again.”

“i killed you once, i’ll kill you again!”

“you killed me once, you’re not killing me again!”

“i lost you once, i won’t lose you again.”

“remember how in one of our last lives you got mad because people were saying the earth wasn’t flat? how the tables have turned.”

“hey, we’re best friends forever, remember? literally forever. you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“you’re my best friend, and i have loved you for three life times now, but if you keep making shitty puns i’m going to kill you.”

“wow, history really does repeat itself, huh?”

“maybe this is the universe apologizing for what happened last time you were alive.”

“what ever you did last time doesn’t matter. you’ve done nothing wrong this time, you deserve to be happy.”

“hey, i may be a disaster in every life i’ve had but at least i’m a reliable disaster.”

“thirteenth century me would have been so shook by anime.”

“oh, goddammit. this meme would have been perfect for a conversation in the renaissance.”

“i promise that no matter how long it takes, no matter how many times we get reincarnated, i will always find you.”

“i love you. i’ve always loved you and i always will. no matter what, in every lifetime, i will love you.”

“i’ve hated you in every life i’ve had, nothing is ever going to change that.”

“that was two lives ago, why can’t you just let it go!?”

“why can’t you accept that i was literally a different person back then!?”

“the universe gave me a second chance, why can’t you?”

[bleue-flora]

just realized i’ve been following your work for over 2 and a half years

Wait… really?! Have I even been here that long? Wow. You must have been here from the beginning then. Well, for real, thank you for sticking around and supporting me. :) It’s been a crazy ride, anon, and I’m glad I have been able to entertain you along the way. <3 <3 <3

Yeah, I just checked and looks like I posted the first chapter of my first ever fanfiction on November 5, 2022 after being encouraged by @monsoonrays to post the scene I wrote of Dream’s Twitter space scrapped lore because I just wanted to know what it could have been like and since I didn’t find many people writing it, I decided to do it myself lol. I didn’t necessarily plan on sharing it though, it was more so just for me and I never intended to write more, the other three chapters just kinda happened after the Las Nevadas stream gave me staged duo brain rot (I’ve never recovered)…

But ya know I figured maybe what’d be really fun to look at, now that we’re getting all nostalgic, is my very first draft just to see how far I’ve come and just to say, don’t let your grammar or verbiage or whatever keep you from writing, because you can edit, and improve, and get help, and ya know it’s also okay to have scuffed grammar or not be the best writer. For years I didn’t write because I thought I couldn’t, that I was bad at it, that I wasn’t creative enough, that my grammar and spelling were too bad to be a writer. And now, despite adhd, dyslexia, and a reading comprehension disorder, I have posted 182,135 words to ao3. In large part thanks to y’all’s support and encouragement and appreciation. <3 <3 So, to anyone who needs to hear this, don’t let your weaknesses hold you back. I thought I couldn’t write, I thought I couldn’t draw people, I thought I couldn’t make a cool YouTube video. And yet, here I am, over 2 years later, with 4 figure art pieces, 9 ao3 posted works and a couple cool YouTube videos (not to mention a crap ton of Tumblr essays lol…)

And without further or do let’s go back to the beginning, back to my brain in October 2022, during the height of senior engineering midterms and still recovering from a concussion…

Scrapped Lore - Ch 1 of Hell in a Box

————————————————————

Thoughts racing in his head as he follows the coords his ally has provided. The gentle wind brushing surprisingly cold sand against his armor. A feeling of confidence and protection engulfing him with his netherite. His smug grin hidden under the mask. He didn’t have this before. Let’s see how Quackity does in a fair fight. Before he knows it, he’s arrived at his destination. A stair case before him leading to what appears to be an underground base. Quackity’s name tag is below, so Dream enters. Despite the growing unease in his chest. Despite the fear creeping its way up his body. He ignores the warnings of the inside voice telling him to run, as he pursues, revenge consuming his mind.

He makes his way down the stairs into the darkness and before he can even think or take in his surroundings, it’s raining potions, the all too nostalgic sound of glass shattering, running a shiver down his back. Weakness. Blindness. Nausea. Harming. His knees buckle, his body collapses. The world appears to be spinning as if tilted on its axis. His vision begins to go dark, and he just hopes that what he sees is a drug caused hallucination. That the rough dark obsidian and the old familiar room is just his mind running with panic, playing tricks on him, joining the chemicals swimming through his veins. It wasn’t.

Slowly Dream’s mind begins to make its way back to consciousness and into his body. Before he opens his eyes, he can feel the thick coarse texture of rope wound tight against his skin. From head to toe he’s tied in a cruel-fully painful manner. In what seems to be a rather excessive amount of rope. Almost as if the person or persons were deeply afraid of his escape. They are right of course to be afraid. He’s not the bloody, weak, frail thing he was in prison. Well not completely, anyways. Around his neck, lies rope tightly attached to his hands, constraining a good amount of his already limited air flow. Adding to the anxiety and panic making its way through his lungs. He’s completely restricted in his attempts to escape, all movement tugging at the rope around his neck. He can’t breathe. His hands pulled through the wooden bars of the back of a chair, tied behind him and the oh so nostalgic feeling of the wooden chair beneath him. Well, ain’t this familiar. It’s not made for torture though, no armrests to bind his hands for removing nails, no smell of blood stains on the wood. Yet. But it’s not The chair, and as pathetic as it sounds he can’t help but be a little comforted by that fact. That observation keeping him sane. It’s not the same. It’s not the same. It’s not the same. He’s not back. He made it out. He’ll make it out again. Maybe.

Thrown out of his thoughts, he realizes that he can hear voices. Through his head is pounding headache, a likely result from the shear about of drugs in his system, he can make out the distinct voice of Quackity and Sam speaking on what to do with him. What he wouldn’t give to never hear their voices again. Never hear his name from their lips. Yet here he is, again, tied to a godforsaken chair ready for another session with his tormentors. Armor-less. Alone. Helpless. It’s like nothing has changed, his weeks of healing vanished at the scene. He can’t make out the whole conversation but focusing he make out, “Should we just kill him?…Can’t put him back now….We should kill him the same way he did you…Don’t you want revenge, Sam?...I say it’s time for someone else to lose an eye to a fucking pickaxe!... Let’s do it with the same one, his, oh the irony!...” His ears specifically pick up the all too familiar, sadistic gleeful tone of Quackity, sending an involuntary shutter through him. As he feared, they’re going to kill him. What a waste, months of torture, isolation, starvation and for what? For them to put him out of his misery now. What’s the point? It can’t have all been for nothing! He can’t have made it through this year, just to die here, bound to this chair at the scene of his endless nightmares, like he never left.

He hears footsteps leading away from him, an angry yet cheerful rhythm that he immediately recognizes as Quackity. Despite the circumstances, he can’t help but feel relief at the distance gained between him and his torturer. The nostalgic sound of redstone activating, signaling his exit, and probably bringing down the lava wall.

Reluctantly Dream’s eyes open and he peaks with a sense of dread washing over him. Please don’t let it be real. Please be a dream. Unfortunately, to his dismay, a lava wall falls before him, blocking his exit, the far too reminiscent sound of its loud flow buzzing in his ears. Oh, how he wishes it would stop! Oddly, he’s not sure how to feel. If he should be horrified to be trapped yet again by the warm liquid or glad that it’s blocking out Quackity. But he can’t help but feel relieved. The familiar lava, his twisted form of protection, yet again. Not that it’ll last.

He’s positioned in the middle of the cell room and his initial observations prove his suspicions correct. Oh, how he wishes he was wrong. The chest, the cauldron, the purple tears falling from the ceiling, even the crying obsidian seems to be placed in the exact same spots. He would know. It’s all a bit too real, too reminiscent. He can feel the rough obsidian pressed against the soles of his scarred bare feet. It can’t be the vault though. He has the key, it’s his. His hell turned home. His vulnerability turned protection. He’s not afraid. It doesn’t matter. It’s not the room he fears it’s his situation. And yet, he can’t help but feel the dread and fear crawl its way through him at the sight of the replica before him.

Taking in his surroundings, he hears the other pair of boots grumpily trot closer until what he knows to be Sam is standing rather close to him. Sam hasn’t noticed he’s awake yet, or he is ignoring him. He has mastered that skill after all. He never listened before. He never gave into mercy while hearing his screams. But he’s not the same Sam. He’s not the Warden anymore. This is different! There’s a chance.

So, as a last straw to save his neck once again, he thinks up what to say. Manipulation is his strength after all, even if he’s minutes away from a full blow panic attack, Even if it’s life or death. Oh, how this feels like de ja vou. He made Sam his bitch after all, he can do this.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Dream mumbles still kinda out of it, “S-Sam…”

Sam’s head immediately whips around, to him, locking his gaze. Meeting the crazed smily mask sending an involuntary shutter down his spine at the sight of his murderer. That’s quickly accompanied by a satisfied grin making its way up his face at the man’s predicament.

“Look—look who’s awake!… Dream, the most 'powerful' man on the server, bound helplessly to a chair, again. Who’s the idiot now?” Sam smirks back.

Despite his words, Dream can see the uneasiness in his form, his facial expressions not fully matching his words. Ignoring Sam’s bait, Dream instead causally asks, tone smooth and surprisingly calm, “How—how have you been Sam?”

Sam rightfully taken aback by the friendly coolness in Dream’s tone, looks at the man again, vision a bit blurry at the sight of the haunting smile. Without realizing he mindlessly utters, “Good I guess… I mean—What do you—?… You—you killed me Dream! What do you mean how have I been?” His confused tone turning loud and angry with great momentum.

Unfazed by the revelation, Dream reasons back, voice steady, despite the slight tremor in his hands and the suppressed flinch at the raised voice, “To—to be fair… I only killed you once and you know, you can be hurt about it, but that—that was justified. You abused your power over me in prison, so I took a life. Quackity took time out of his day to visit me, for months, just to inflict pain and misery” Joyfully fulfilling his cruelest fantasies. Doing unspeakable things that not even the darkest nightmares could come up with. Things not even Dream would have ever considered. The Unfathomable, Indescribable, creativity in making hell on earth. “So you know, I came here to kill him…” Dream pauses, Quackity’s name on his tongue sending involuntary shivers down his back and a hitch in his shallow breath. He doesn’t say how he’s just hoping this will help him sleep through the night for once. Or how he’s desperately grasping at something to mend his broken mind and body. How he’s trying to feel safe instead of afraid.

Finding his voice again, “All of us—all of us have our reasons. You know, we are all right from our point of view… But I would say that—that the books are balanced between us. You know, I’ve left you alone. I released you from Tubbo’s imprisonment. I fed you steak, cake and even—even golden apples when they left you to starve. You know, I haven’t destroyed anything on the server. I haven’t imprisoned or tortured or waged war. All I’ve done is try and live, hunted down like—like an animal by the entire server.”

“Oh come on, Dream, don’t act all innocent. We both know you’re not.”

Annoyed, Dream responds coolly, “Innocent? No one’s innocent, Sam. Not—not you. Not me. Not Quackity. N-not anyone! You know, we all have enemies. We’ve all wronged each other for our own reasons. But I’m not your enemy. I’m not the—not the bad guy. I’m not—I’m not pure evil.”

“So you say... I should— I should just what?… Let you go because you 'let me off easy' because you’re not—not evil?…” Sam’s voice rising again, ebbing with mock pity. A stroke of anger burning in him, “You haven’t—you haven’t yet? As if that’s a comfort! As if that washes your slate clean! As if I can leave here and not fear you coming after me, the rest of the server… and T-Tommy! As if—as if you didn’t murder me while I was defenseless, after I gave you access to the prison!”

Dream suppresses a wince from the tone and for the briefest moment fear, panic and anger pass across his face. No one notices.

In a much more hushed defeated tone Dream somewhat desperately voices, “You know. he’s—he’s going to kill me, Sam.”

Silence falls between the two for a brief moment, before Dream continues, “He’s going to—he’s going to take my last life… and you know unlike your death, he’s going to drag it out to a painfully slow degree. Butchering me like I’m—I’m nothing but a cow for his dinner… I’m a person, Sam, a member of this smp. I may—I may not be the 'good guy' b—but you know I’m not the big bad they make me out to be and neither are you.”

“I’m not like you! Of course, I’m—I’m not the bad guy!” Sam states firm, voice shaking from that last insinuation.

Dream lowers his head, the yelling is really not helping his ponding headache nor his panic. It’s all a bit too familiar to everyday in his cell. Him trying to reason with the Warden Sam for any spec of mercy. Being denied because ‘he deserves it.’ He made the rules of the prison after all.

Another moment of silence passes between them. Dream barely keeping at bay the sense of dread rising through him, the feeling of defeat and hopelessness washing over him. His hindered breath becoming more and more labored as his body holds still, waiting for what’s to come. He’s running out of time and Sam wasn’t budging, not that Dream’s surprised. Just as stubborn as always in his righteousness and fury. Still intent on allowing the walls to be painted with Dream’s blood for his wrongdoings.

His panic just continues to get worse the longer he’s here. Trapped in a perfect replica of the cell that backdrops the scenes of his never ending nightmares. He wonders if maybe insanity has really taken him over. Maybe Punz was right that one can only endure so much before they crack. That people have limits before they break. Because right now he can’t help but smile. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen making it to his brain. Maybe it’s because he’s finally greeting death like a friend. Maybe because he too can see the sadistic irony of his situation. Maybe because what else can he do after all, that’s what his mask made him, a smile. Nothing more. Nothing further than the smooth white surface. A seemingly sadistic pleasure painted on. No man behind the mask. Just a simple smile for all to see. A monster to haunt nightmares. An emotionless, unfeeling predator without motivations. But don’t predators also have motivations and reasons? Aren’t predators also prey? Don’t snakes bite to protect themselves and their nest? Not to be cruel but out of necessity and instinct.

Insanity or not, Dream can feel himself slipping into the darkness but he is nothing if not stubborn. He’s nothing if not desperate to live. Even when it would be easier to let go. Even when death would be a mercy. Even at the times when life was endlessly unbearable. He’ll be damned if he lets Sam feel like the good guy in his last moments. If he lets Sam and Quackity keep their hypocritical, self righteous, satisfied smiles at the sight of his misery.

So Dream, face stretching into a grin, mutters under his breath, “P—Prove it.” A challenge, born of desperation and anger.

“W—What?” Sam voices, caught off guard by the end in silence.

“You know, prove that you—that you are not the bad guy!” Dream lifts his head to meet Sam’s gaze and smugly smiles under the mask. Because if he doesn’t he might just let the sobs of fear and despair escape him. An anxiety attack of anguish held back only by his pride. Because if he doesn’t smile, maybe Sam won’t see him as the strong and dangerous monster but as a human being.

“Prove that you aren’t me or Quackity. That you wouldn’t kill an unarmed man to satisfy revenge. That you know—you are good and do things for the good of others... If I —I die today the revive book dies with me. Can you really say that’s for the best? That you know… that—that price is worth paying for revenge?

An deathly silence falls again. Sam pauses in his pacing to look at Dream. Meeting his gaze, Dream can see that Sam’s face shows he’s thinking about and considering something. At the sight, Dream can’t help but feel a fragile hope build in his aching chest. That perhaps today won’t be his last. That perhaps people do change. Perhaps there is such thing as mercy. But he can’t fully embrace it, because he knows he could lose that hope in an instant. The one attachment he could never seem to sever and loses far too often anyways. He clings to it desperately watching Sam’s every movement. Holding in what little oxygen he can get in his lungs, ready to release with either relief or despair.

Sam begins to move again, seemingly making up his decision and pulls out his sword with one smooth movement. Sending uncontrollable panic through Dream. Breathing becoming impossible, mind and sight losing focus as Sam approaches, sword in hand. This is it. Sam’s going to kill him. Perhaps this is the mercy he deserves. Sam will be quicker than Quackity at least. The sword comes up under his chin pushing his head up to face Sam’s glare. He can’t look though he doesn’t want the last thing for him to see to be his former friend’s righteous fury. Disappointment. Disgust. Or whatever emotions clear on his face depicting his intent to kill him off for the last time. A red drop of blood falls slowly down his neck at the sword’s pressure, but then there’s the sound of rope being cut, releasing the painful pressure from around his throat. He finally breathes, looks up, and meets Sam’s eyes. Oh? Is that regret?…pity?… Doesn’t matter. It’s not anger, it’s not self righteous fury, it’s not the look intent on taking one’s final life. If he squints hard enough he can even see his former friend’s gaze. At the sight, Dream can’t help but feel the ghostly warmth of Sam’s hug and smile at the past memories. Of fishing together on the docks of the house he once built. Sam’s laughter and ambitions filling his ears, tearing through his already mangled heart. A brief moment of actually good memories filling his head, a welcomed change. And then it’s gone, a mere second over, Sam’s face replaced with one of determination as he continues to saw through the rest of the ropes, seemingly intent on not nicking Dream with his sword in the process but failing in some places. He’d be lying if despite the ropes being cut, the sword’s proximity was still causing slight panic that only worsened when Sam moves behind him. But then it was over, his hands free, already beginning to regain some feeling in them. Sam turns, flicks a lever the all too nostalgic sound of the lava lowering, opening his way out. Or his torturer’s way in. He turns to Sam who’s not making eye contact with him, and whispers a hushed hesitant, “thank you” before bolting out of the room.

Not wanting to test his luck any further. He makes his way to the light, just in time too, as he sees Quackity making his way through the desert back to the entrance. He sneaks around, narrowly missing Quackity’s line of sight and speedily goes from corner to corner hiding from sight best he could. He may be out, but he’s still screwed. He has no armor. No weapons. He has nothing. It’s at this point when the panic that subsided comes back full force. The sound of an alarm begins to go off as a message appears in the chat calling for everyone to search Las Nevadas for him. Fuck. Looking around he spots a cave and runs like there’s no tomorrow, because there may not be one toward the nearby cave.

Slumping down the wall as he attempts to pull air into his lungs as fast as possible. Adrenaline and anxiety adding to his already out of shape body making it really hard to breathe. His mind going through a million plans of how to escape the city, when he hears a voice that sends an involuntary shiver down his back. The former president’s propaganda about him ringing in his ears, he spins round to meet Wilbur’s gaze, who whispers confused, “Why are we hiding?”

Here’s the link to read what happens next and the current version which has like another 1000 or so more words cuz ya know, I can’t help but add angst :)

[teaboot]

Sorry if this comes off as rude, or too personal, but how do you still have the mental strength to be like you are, after everything you've gone through? Like, not to make suffering a competition, but from what you've shared, it seems like you've had to deal with so much more than most, and yet you're still able to create, engage in the things you love and enjoy, and even wish better for the people who'd only want the worst for you. As someone who hasn't been able to do any of those for a while now, or feel anything beyond a sticky sense of resentment, I'd appreciate the words of someone who's been in shit miles deeper, if that isn't too much trouble. Sorry if this whole thing sounds weird, and thanks for being one of the weird funny guys on my dash, you've given me lots of laughs when I've needed them.

Oh, wow. Uh.

I think first off- not to minimize my experiences cause my therapist says not to do that- but I have a LOT of friends and loved ones who have been through much worse and are also doing good now, so that kinda helps. Knowing that if they got through things, I can too, and they don’t think less of ME for struggling.

Secondly… I think I used to not be so happy about life. I was really angry, really sharp and ascerbic, and when people who met me matched my energy, they’d be sharp and ascerbic back. And so I’d trap myself in this place where life ALREADY sucked, and then everyone around me was awful, so I’D be awful, and it would turn into this absolute mire of bad feeding bad.

And then one day I think after a long good cry in a public toilet, I just felt… better? Not BETTER, because I still had all my problems, but I think I was riding that post-cry high you get sometimes and the sun just looked brighter, and the annoying kids around me were just… less aggravating. The dumb teen boys being idiots were less “stupid morons with no depth who don’t care and can’t think” were just… regular old dumbasses having fun. And then I said hello to someone with a smile, and they smiled back, and we had this great conversation I never would have had otherwise, and I figured out that people are kind to you when you’re kind first.

Which seems obvious, but like… it’s hard to see anyone else when you’re hurting. And so when people are cruel or rude to me, I just think… wow. People probably see you being an asshole and treat you like an asshole. You probably see your own bad attitude reflected back at you everywhere you go, just like I did, and you probably have no idea. Every stranger you meet is a rude bitch who hates your face, and you’ll never be able to go anywhere that isn’t full of tense, defensive, cranky bastards until you figure out that YOU are causing the bulk of it. Like a dog trying to run from the shit on its tail.

And the idea of living your whole life where nobody is happy to see you, nobody truly enjoys your company, everyone is walking on eggshells and waiting for you to snap on them…. That’s a pretty sad and painful way to live your whole entire life.

So like. I try to treat people kindly, and in return I get to see happy people wherever I go. I try to make them laugh, and listen to them talk, and once they do they aren’t frightening or annoying or strange anymore.

most people, at least.

So like… I don’t think “look on the bright side” is the right answer, but maybe… find something good to believe in, and hold on.

I believe that people at large are good and kind or at least trying their best, and that those who can’t or aren’t are… sort of pitiable.

They don’t know where their pain is coming from, and they can’t make it go away, and it’s been like that so long they probably think the whole world is just LIKE that. So they never really get to experience the good things. And that’s… kind of like a hell, I think, in a way.

I don’t believe in karma. I don’t think I’m religious. I just think that we all want similar things, and we all fear similar things, and the ways we go about getting to or running from those things is different.

….if any of that makes sense.

[nohoney]

bakugou can’t stand your beat up sneakers. they’re kinda worn out but not quite falling apart. the laces are a far cry from the pristine white that they used to be, there’s scuff marks all around the shoes, and you complain sometimes that your heel gets a little bit blistered when you walk around in them too long. but still, you wear them because they’re easy to slip on in just three seconds and they are still pretty comfy.

and it’s not like your shoes are limited edition or whatever; it’s your basic design that everyone wears.

it’s why bakugou gets a little annoyed that you keep saying that you’ll eventually get a new pair but you don’t. he’s been with you the past few months and you‘ve yet to actually follow through on finally changing out your old sneakers to a new pair.

so he goes out of his way to just do it for you himself. he comes to your apartment with the shoe box and hands it over to you. “here, can you please stop wearing those beat up pairs now?”

you hold the left shoe up and awe over it, “oh wow, i almost can’t believe that this is what they look like brand new! has it really been that long for me?”

yes, fucking yes.

you try them on, stepping in place for a few seconds before looking down at the shoes with a small frown. “they feel funny.” you comment.

“what they feel is new.” bakugou shoots back.

you shrug a little but make a face that says you’re right.

“let’s go for a walk to break them in.”

it sounds like a good idea so you’re happy to walk out the door and get your feet used to them. however bakugou ends up having to carry you on his back because the new shoes started to hurt a little only fifteen minutes in.

but much like a new relationship, it takes a bit of time to break in and get used to them. slowly you wear the new sneakers for a bit longer, this time with better maintenance as bakugou insists that you wipe your shoes clean bi-weekly so that they maintain their appearance and washing them when needed. and then they become as comfortable as the old pair, slipping on easily as bakugou waits by the front door with keys in hand for the both of you to do errands together.

[concretejunglefm]

A little imagine scenario where you match with Noah on hinge.

God, you have no idea what compels you to do it, but when that final glass of wine tastes like regret and redownloading Hinge for the umpteenth time, you end up talking to a genuinely funny guy, with quick wit responses and nothing cliché. In just the first five messages alone he hasn’t asked for nudes or feet pics.

Honestly, it feels like a win.

One photo sent to your friend makes her believe he’s a catfish because no man who looks like that would be on a dating app. Tragic really—her words.

“Oh, he’s definitely a catfish.” “How is he a catfish?!” “Three photos, and they’re all ‘professional’ looking. Come on, I knew you were bad with dating apps, but I didn’t think you were that naive.” “We’ve been talking nonstop, and I didn’t get any ‘catfish vibes.’ Plus, we’ve agreed to meet up for a drink.” “All I’m saying is, good luck and don’t forget to text me ‘possum’ if it turns out to be a dud.” “Possum?” “Yeah, a code word for if you need help.” “Then why don’t I just text you ‘help’?” “Because only an idiot would do that.”

It could’ve been left there, a flirty little chat to satisfy your need for attention. But now, it’s Saturday, and you’re following the Google Maps directions he sent you to a small underground dive bar. At least if he’s planning on making you the protagonist of your own version of the movie “Fresh,” he had the decency to leave a guide to your whereabouts.

Noah: How far out are you?

You: About five minutes away

Noah: I’m waiting outside. I’m the guy wearing his own bands merch

You: Wow, wearing your own merch, isn't that kind of lame?

Noah: I did warn you I’m not the coolest

You: I’m expecting this date to be a snooze fest then and if it isn’t, I’ll be deeply disappointed

Noah: I hope I can live up to your low expectations

It’s no surprise that the date isn’t a snooze fest. In fact, it’s the most fun date you’ve had in a long time.

It all begins with a drink, leading you onto a local arcade where you compete for the top spot on an old-school street fighter game. The highlight of the night is when you emerge victorious, winning a stuffed animal from an arcade machine, which you affectionately present to him as a reminder of you and your date.

As the night draws to a close, he walks you back to your apartment, but not before making a detour to one of your favorite local ice cream parlors.

“So, am I as bad as they say on Google?” he asks, as you try to conceal your coy grin with another lick of your ice cream.

“In fairness, I wasn’t the one who searched you up on Google, my friend was.”

He bursts into laughter as if he had anticipated it.

“She believed you were a catfish,” you add, “and after searching you up on Google, she was absolutely certain of it.”

“A catfish, really?”

“She said—and I quote; ‘what guy looks like him and uses a dating app?’ It almost sounds too good to be true, or there might be something wrong with you.”

“It’s likely the latter.”

That makes you laugh because, while he may not believe he’s perfect, he feels remarkably close to it at this moment.

“Alright, then,” you say. “Tell me something that I can’t find out about you on Google?”

That amuses him; the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin before he willingly shares a story that would most certainly not be found on Google.

BSF: So...possum?

BSF: If you find yourself in your own version of Fresh, remember to not eat the meat.

You: Huh? Please stop talking about Fresh. And no, definitely not possum.

[thebramblewood]

Percy's First Birthday, Part II

Beginning / Previous

[ding-dong]

Naomi: Is that the door again?

Micah: Who could it be at this hour?

Naomi: Oh, it’s… you.

Grim: I wasn’t certain you’d recognize me.

Naomi: Well, that pesky netherworld fissure of yours is a bit of a dead giveaway. Pun fully intended.

Grim: I suppose it is a rather ostentatious form of travel.

Naomi: Besides, he looks a lot like you. Your son.

Grim: My… son?

Naomi: By my count, you have at least two now.

Grim: [hangs head] Shamefully, I’ve kept many things hidden from you. Can we talk?

Micah: Is everything okay, Naomi?

Cassie: We can get rid of him if you need us to.

Naomi: No, it’s fine. Why don’t we take a walk? I could use some fresh air.

-

Naomi: [awkwardly] So… how are things at the office?

Grim: Business as usual — though it is much less efficient without you around, troubling considering how many cigarette breaks you took in a day.

Naomi: I quit smoking, you know. [bitterly] I’m actually not sure what was harder, that or a day and a fucking half of labor.

Grim: Naomi, I made a grave mistake.

Naomi: If you’re here to lecture me about how we never should have slept together-

Grim: My words when we last spoke were unnecessarily cruel. I wasn’t thinking of you in that moment, only myself. It is easy to mistake the weight of my position for infallibility. I thought myself weak for experiencing feelings for you. I foolishly decided I’d rather sever ties than confront my own humanity.

Naomi: So you are human?

Grim: More or less.

Naomi: How old are you?

Grim: I stopped counting some years ago.

Naomi: Do you not age?

Grim: I can, but so long as I hold this job I won’t.

Naomi: What’s your real name?

Grim: Pluto.

Naomi: As in the cartoon dog? Or the former planet?

Grim: As in the god of the underworld. [laughs] Not particularly subtle, is it? Reaping is the family business, always has been. I was the successor to the throne, so to speak, before I was even born.

Naomi: So one day you’ll need a successor of your own.

Grim: Yes. I started hiring grimterns in the hope of finding someone worthy of the role. I once thought Nyon-

Naomi: You don’t even know Nyon! I don’t care what happened with Olive Specter. But you can’t father children only to abandon them, especially if they’re expected to inherit your scythe — which I’m not saying Percy ever will.

Grim: [softly] Percy? Is that his name? I’d like to meet him. If you’ll allow it.

Naomi: You have to be a real part of his life. I’m not saying we need to get married. I’m not even saying we need to be together. But you can’t just vanish the second it gets difficult.

Grim: My job requires-

Naomi: Promise.

Grim: I promise.

-

Grim: He’s a handsome boy.

Naomi: He is.

Grim: May I… hold him?

-

Micah: Are you really going to give him a second chance?

Naomi: Percy deserves to know his father. As for the rest, he’ll have to prove he’s capable of sticking around first.

Micah: When Grandma told me you wanted to buy the place, I couldn’t believe it. I thought you’d be ready to go home.

Naomi: Oddly enough, this feels like home now.

Micah: Naomi, wha…

Naomi: Oh, that’s Bonehilda. I summon her every now and then to help out with the housework.

Micah: Wow, you really have changed.

[provide-milk]

Pt 2: Do You Know What You're Doing To Me?: Ford Pines x Reader

⚠️Minors do not interact with! NSFW!⚠️

Read Chapter 1 here! https://www.tumblr.com/provide-milk/764006882654437376/do-you-know-what-youre-doing-to-me?source=share

It was obvious. He was ignoring you

It seemed like he was avoiding the gift shop like the plague, mainly only coming out to use the kitchen for meals before secluding himself again in the lab. It hurt especially when you noticed he wouldn’t even make eye-contact with you or acknowledge your presence in the room. You would try to say your normal greetings but would instead be met with an awkward nod of the head. You wanted to believe that it had something to do with work, but you knew the truth. It was because of you. It wasn’t just you who noticed this behavior, but everyone else as well.

Mabel and Dipper would become quiet, even if they were in the middle of an argument if Ford walked into specifically the gift shop, whispering to each other what they think could possibly be bothering Ford so much in the room.

“Maybe there’s a ghost in the room that’s feeding off his energy!” Mabel exclaimed once while Dipper only sighed and responded with, “If there were ghosts in the room Ford would’ve gotten rid of them by now.”

Stanley was the only one who connected the dots.

“Kid…” He stepped towards you. “Why is Sixer acting weirder than normal?”

“I have no idea, Stanley.”

“I know you’re lying to me. He’s been acting different ever since you went down there with him. What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Stan glared at you, “You did something to make him act all strange.”

You winced at his words because you knew it was true. It was your fault. Things might’ve been normal if you left him alone.

“I must’ve done something… But I don’t know what it is…” You lied.

Stan narrowed his eyes before sighing, “Well I can’t stand how quiet it gets when old Poindexter shows up. So you guys gotta figure out how to make things normal again.”

There was a pause before Stan began to talk again, “We are running out of cereal… How about you and sixer take the kids to go get some. Will force you guys to have to stand each other for a little bit.”

“But Stan-”

“Nope. Deal with it.”

You threw your head back with a groan. You felt like Ford hated you right now, but there was a flutter of excitement deep inside you. You still found Ford attractive. Nothing changed about your feelings. If anything, the kiss riled you up even more.

Especially when you were alone in your room, replaying it in your mind over and over again. You’d shift your thighs together, trying to get some sort of relief without going all the way. But you couldn’t help yourself. You recalled that desperate look in his eyes, the feeling of his clothed erection pressing against you, the wet and wild way he kissed you like he was starving for you. It was too much to handle.

Well, it’s not like he would ever know about this. You threw off your pajama pants to the side and your fingers met their way under your panties. You pressed two fingers between your folds, gasping at the contact while your other hand went to palm at one of your breasts. You were ashamed at how wet you were already. Ashamed at the way you moaned when you imagined your fingers being Ford’s while you inserted two of them inside you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you felt that with Ford’s big fingers it would be a similar feeling. If anything it would be so much better. You saw the way he handled dice when he played Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be thinking about that.” You thought to yourself. But you still didn’t stop moving your fingers, almost cringing at the squelching noise they made. 

You closed your eyes, imagining Ford’s mouth on your clit while he spread you open with his fingers.

“Wow you’re really worked up over this. How long have you been imagining this?” You could imagine his familiar voice saying. 

“Ford.” You gasped, this time out loud.

You imagined him praising you between eating you out. Would he compliment the way your body squirmed desperately under his fingers? Would he call you a good girl if you came just by the way he worked you with his mouth? 

You threw your head back with one last moan of Ford’s name, cumming as you tried to overstimulate yourself with your fingers. Fuck, this felt sinful. Masturbating to a man who you made extremely uncomfortable. As you calmed down from your high, you cringed as you remembered Ford ignoring you. Oh yeah, that was the reality of things. Part of you regretted ever kissing him and another part felt on Cloud 9 just thinking about it. You felt torn, but there was one thing for certain, he kissed you back. He wanted you so desperately like you wanted him.

“Maybe he’s also getting off thinking about it. He probably doesn’t hate me… He… Maybe he wants to fuck me so bad he’s worried his self control will snap if he sticks around me.”

Bingo. That made the most sense to you and man did it fill you up with ego. The thought of a man like him wanting to fuck you too. Who wouldn’t be complimented by that? 

“But… it’ll probably never happen… I guess this is the closest I’ll ever get…” You muttered to yourself as you looked at your cum covered fingers. “Jeez, what has gotten into me?”

You recollected that night as Ford entered the gift shop, holding the keys to the car. Now the both of you weren’t looking at each other and the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

Ford cleared his throat, “You kids ready?” He said to the twins but you swear it could’ve been directed towards you too.

You honestly wanted to get into the back of the car with the twins but you were surprised that Ford opened the door to the passenger seat for you and beckoned you in. He still didn’t make any eye contact with you as you said thank you. He just responded with another nod of his head

“Man, he’s hot but he can be so rude.” You thought to yourself. 

Thank goodness for the twins because if it wasn’t for them you swore it would’ve been a quiet car ride. Mabel led a game of 20 questions in which of course Ford was the winner each time which made you smile to yourself.

“Ok we are just here for cereal.” Ford warned the twins as he got out of the car.

“Ok uncle Ford…” the kids said in unison but judging by both of the looks on their faces they didn’t believe a single bit of it.

As they went through the aisles, Ford looked for some healthier options for dinner. You decided that maybe now would be a good time to approach him.

“Ford…” You said softly. “Can we find a time to ta-“

Before you could even respond, Mabel came barreling down the aisle with two bags of the sugariest candy that could possibly be found in the whole market. 

“Ford! Y/n! Please can we get these! Please! They are by the same creator of Smile Dip!”

You looked over to see Dipper shaking his head and looking at you with eyes that said, “Please don’t do it.”

You could see Ford thinking it through before responding with a final, “Absolutely not.”

Mabel groaned and you frowned.

“I think you should let her get the candy.”

Dipper’s expression looked concerned,“I don’t think you should do that.”

Ford locked eyes with you for what felt like the first time in forever. 

“No, she doesn’t need the candy.”

“But she wants the candy. We should just get it for her.”

“Exactly!” Mabel exclaimed.

Ford crossed his arms, “She’ll be fine without it.”

“But she’ll be craving it.”

“Just because she’s craving it doesn’t mean she should have it.”

“Sometimes you should just give into your cravings.”

You could see Ford starting to get frustrated, “Not if they're not good for you or the other person.”

Oh.

“Well maybe the other person wants them to give into their cravings.”

The twins now looked at each other, confused.

“I told you, it’s not good for her. She’s too young. Sugar like that is bad for someone at that age.”

“I think she’s old enough to make decisions for herself.”

“That’s what you think!” Ford was starting to lose his composure.

“Well maybe Ford, you should just listen to me for once and see that I can make decisions too! Even if I am ‘younger.’”

“You’re not gonna convince me.” Ford’s tone was serious.

“Oh I think I will convince you actually. Cause you want the candy just as much as I do!”

Now the twins were starting to back up to put the candy back, their eyes still on whatever was happening in front of them.

“Are you getting this?” Dipper whispered.

“Not at all.” Mabel muttered.

“Ok, maybe I do want the candy- but- ugh- kids come on, let’s just get these items and get going.”

“Does that mean I’m getting the candy?” Mabel whispered to Dipper.

“Just… put it back.”

“Yeah… you’re right.”

The car ride back was silent, you could see that Ford was speeding slightly. His hands were gripping the steering wheel tight and the twins were giving each other glances. You stared out the side window, watching as you sped past the trees. You were annoyed too and avoided looking at Ford.

As Ford parked the car and the twins got out, you went to do the same. You went to open the door only for Ford to lock you in.

“Ford! What the he-”

“We’re gonna go for a ride and settle this.”

“What do you-” you replied, slightly stunned. 

“You know exactly what I mean.”

You didn’t know where Ford was taking you. You kept glancing over at him but he seemed to be deep in thought. You didn’t want to poke the bear any further.

He parked at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a lake. You couldn’t even take in the view with your emotions all over the place. You fiddled with your hands as Ford took a deep sigh.

“Look… I know you’ve been thinking about what happened that day, but I just want you to know that’ll never happen again and I want us to leave it in the past.”

“And forget it ever happened? Is that really what you expect?”

Ford paused, “Well that’s what I was hoping for, yes…”

“How am I supposed to do that! You kissed me back and it wasn’t just an ordinary kiss. It was long and-”

“Ok you can stop there.” Ford cut you off, with a tinge of pink blossoming over his cheeks. “Maybe I did… But I’d appreciate it if we can act like it never happened.”

“Like it never happened?” You exclaimed. “You started it!”

“Me? No, I believe you’re remembering things wrong.”

“You flirted with me!”

Ford’s brows furrowed, “I was not flirting. I was simply complimenting you back the way YOU were complimenting me.”

“But you knew I liked you, right?”

“I wasn’t certain…”

You crossed your arms, with a huff, turning your head towards the side window. 

Ford took a deep breath, “I suppose this is gonna be a lot harder to figure out than I expected.”

“You think?”

It was silent once again, both of you were pondering what to say next in this situation.

“I just don’t want to lose the friendship we had before this all happened and I’m sorry I got your hopes up. That was my mistake. I should’ve never done what I did and I wish there was a way I could make it up to you but there isn’t. I’d really appreciate it if we could move past this.”

Your eyes were now starting to well up with tears. You didn’t know why. It was just a stupid crush anyways is what you told yourself. You met his eyes and you could see his expression soften with guilt.

“Would you accept me if I was old enough?”

Ford sighed, “I’d rather not answer that question.”

“You would…” You grumbled. “And you know it.”

“Maybe I would… But that’s not something we should think about.” Ford said softly. “Dear… Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He reached towards the hand on your lap but you pushed it away.

“Don’t call me that.”

As it became quiet, Ford went to put the keys back in the ignition.

“You know I just think it’s funny how-”

Ford immediately took the keys out of the ignition, focusing on you again.

“- You want this too and the only person you are stopping is yourself. Geez, you think someone who was in a portal for 30 years, traveling through dimensions, would be a little more willing to live it up. But now suddenly you want to play by all the rules. Are you becoming boring now?”

You could tell that your words cut deep, as Ford didn’t respond, but you were too upset to apologize. 

Ford’s eyes narrowed at you, “You think I’m becoming ‘boring?’”

“Yes.”

“Well…” Ford hesitated for a moment. “Would someone who’s boring do this?”

Ford leaned over the center console, his eyes scanning you as he leaned in closer.

“You keep this between us. Promise me that.”

Your heart felt like it was ready to burst out of your chest.

“I promise.”

“Meaning that you keep this between us too.”

He brushed his hand against your cheek, causing your face to heat up immediately. He gazed into your eyes with a soft expression before gently meeting your lips. It was a tender kiss, but slowly became more and more sensual. Your arms wrapped around Ford’s neck, pulling him in even closer, receiving a grunt from him in response but he obliged. The finger that grazed your cheek was shaking slightly, possibly from nervousness. Nonetheless you both seemed unhurried to stop. You tugged at his bottom lip between your teeth and received a gasp from him. You smiled against his lips. He pulled away slowly, both of your eyes fluttering open. His face was flushed, as you both caught your breaths. 

“You’re a good kisser.” Ford complimented and you giggled in response. 

“You’re not too bad either.”

He smiled at you softly. “I’m surprised, as I haven’t kissed anyone in quite some time.”

“I guess you're just good with your mouth.”

Both of you went bright red at the sudden change in mood. He began to take your arms off of him gently.

“Oh I-shit- didn’t mean it in a dirty way. I just meant like-”

“I think it’s time we get back, don't you?” Ford said while he put the keys in the ignition, but you swore you could see him trying to hold back a laugh. 

[dat-town]

treat me soft and tender

Characters: Sungho & female reader

Setting & genre: hurt/comfort, second chance au

Summary: Having dreamed of becoming bigger than life, you turned your back on your hometown and Sungho. Coming back is bittersweet. (An ode to people who love us at our worst.)

Warnings: low self-esteem, unemployment struggles, negative self-talk, minor injury

Words: 2.7k

Author’s note: listen to Sungho’s Love Me Like That cover since this story is heavily inspired by that song. header pic is from the and, japanese single concept photos

Same old gray streets, rust-eaten railings and store fronts with worn letters. The school yard has barely changed and the ahjumma selling hotteok on the corner is still there.

You never thought you would be back here.

Not like this; not so soon.

Your parents’ house felt suffocating but the fresh air outside brings back so many unwanted memories you start regretting leaving your self-imposed isolation.

It’s been three years, almost four. Not enough to change the neighbourhood but enough to change you completely. You feel like a stranger walking familiar streets, a weary ghost haunting once known places.

Coming back here is a bitter admission that you aren’t good enough for bigger dreams. That even with a college degree under your name, you have no idea what to do with your life. It’s a painful reminder that you threw away things that mattered for something that didn’t come into fruition. Your parents were right in the end. A degree like yours doesn’t put food onto the table no matter how good university you went to, not if you don’t have the connections or once-in-a-lifetime luck. But you were proud and arrogant, telling them that you would rather starve than do something with no passion and look at where it brought you.

Back home, to an old neighbourhood where everything feels smaller than it is.

Suddenly, there’s a gentle call of your name, a soft, familiar sound and at first, you think it’s just your imagination, just another memory. Then you hear it again and turning on your toes slowly, you come face-to-face with the boy stepping out of the corner café with pastel apron around his slim waist. He hasn’t changed much, just like this area and you can practically see his features reflect his graduation photo from all those years ago. The same open gaze and pouty lips.

“Wow, it’s really you! It’s been so long,” Sungho’s voice is kind, unsuspecting of the turmoil inside you. He takes two stairs at a time and stops in front of you with eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe what he’s seeing.

For a moment you want to hide. From Sungho and his interest. You don’t want him to see you like this and notice that lifeless look in your eyes that’s reflected in the mirrors. You can’t make yourself meet his eyes, so you just hum, quietly acknowledging his approach, silently hoping that he would have to go soon. But Sungho has always been good at going against your pessimistic expectations.

“Are you visiting your parents?” He asks, keeping up the conversation that shouldn’t exist in the first place. You wonder whether he notices how socially awkward you are, how detached, a faint shadow of your overconfident high school self. The one that thought she could conquer the world if she wanted it badly enough.

“Something like that,” you lie because admitting the truth out loud would make it more real, more permanent. You stall, putting your weight from one leg to another. Silence stretches between you like a rubber band, waiting to tear.

“It’s a bit chilly today out here, huh? Why don’t you come in and have something warm? It’s on me,” Sungho offers with easy warmth as if you were friends, as if you didn’t push him away years ago to selfishly chase your dreams.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you mutter, pulling your coat tighter around your form. Now that he mentioned it, the cold feels more tangible.

“You aren’t! Business has been slow today anyways. Take it as you’re the one saving me from boredom,” the boy insists and for the first time you find yourself looking at him properly. There’s a small smile on his face that makes his eyes turn downwards, his delicate features exuding a welcoming aura. He has always been too kind, too caring. You would hate to see his expression turn sour because of you. But it’s inevitable; you tend to ruin everything you touch.

“Maybe another time. Sorry,” you hang your head, so you wouldn’t see Sungho’s face fall. Both of you know that you don’t mean that. The only thing you mean is the apology.

“Ah okay. Don’t be a stranger then,” the boy says, shifting the awkwardness from his answer to something playful. You don’t promise anything, just grip the strap of your bag tighter and walk down the street. You tell yourself it’s better like this, that Sungho liked the version of you in high school that doesn’t exist anymore, that he’s just polite and way too kind, that it’s better if you don’t intertwine with his life.

You avoid the coffee shop’s corner from then on. Not that you go out a lot, rather wallowing in self-pity in your bed, but as ignored and rejected job applications pile up in your inbox, your head hurts from thinking about the future and your mother’s sad eyes follow you everywhere, so sometimes you find yourself out of the house with no goal in mind. You wander around just to do so, to look for signs of spring coming among the bare trees and convince yourself that your time will come too, that if nature can be reborn every year, you can reinvent yourself too. Some days you find hope in the sight of a blooming snowdrop or puppies playing in the park, the way the Sun stays on the horizon longer these days and the nights are not so cold but other days, it feels like everything is against you. It usually starts small with minor inconveniences like your favourite cereal running out or stubbing your toe in a furniture but then keep piling up, a social media post that makes your self-worth twice as bad, all-knowing ajhummas whispering about you when they think you can’t hear them or suddenly raining when you’re stuck outside without an umbrella.

When the cold droplets touch your nape, you shiver and make a useless attempt at covering up but it’s already too late, in a few minutes you’re drenched. You let out a resigned sigh, pressing your crossed arms to your chest in a futile attempt to keep yourself warm while you stand at the next crossroad, waiting for the cars to pass.

You’re too immersed in watching the rain soak the neighbourhood and listening to the clattering sound of the drops hitting metal to immediately notice it but suddenly the rain stops. Or actually it doesn’t stop but it can’t reach you anymore because there’s an umbrella above your head and a warm body beside you. Even without looking you know who it is but your breath still catches when your eyes meet Sungho’s worried ones.

“How does that warm drink sound now?” He asks quietly once you crossed the road and you only realize then that you ended up at the coffee shop's area without noticing.

“Sounds nice,” you whisper, giving in.

Maybe it’s the rain or the cold wearing you down, or maybe it’s the feeling of helplessness building ever since you came back home. Either way you follow Sungho as he unlocks the door fifteen minutes before the opening time and ushers you inside then shakes the water drops off his umbrella. He switches on the heating and RnB music in the background, then covers your shoulders with something warm. Surrounded by his scent, clean like fresh laundry, his coat feels heavier on your back than it should be but you stop shivering.

“Thank you,” you mutter when Sungho serves you hot chocolate and you cradle the mug in your hands as if it was your personal heater.

You don’t deserve this kindness but you also can’t afford to give Sungho the cold shoulder after being nothing but kind to you, so when he stalls by your table, you look up at him and ask whether he likes his job. The boy’s face lights up, probably not because of the small talk question but because you initiated it. He tells you all about the place, how he learned latte art and what he likes the best in it. He describes such a simple life yet he seems so content you can’t really wrap your mind around it but you wish you could be the same, maybe then you would be happier.

Your conversation is ended by the sound of chimes above the door signaling new customers but you can’t shake off the feeling of warmth even when you eventually leave.

Over the last few years you learned to build up walls to brace yourself and others against disappointment. Letting people close enough to see through the cracks of your personality has always been something that made you feel uncomfortable. But Sungho has already seen you in various states: proud and ambitious, cowardly and cold, and now something broken, just a shadow of yourself.

Once, he almost asked you out. You knew because he always wore his heart on his sleeve. His eyes lingered on you a bit longer. His excuses to stay behind with you were a bit too forced. His acts of service were a bit too obvious. You liked it all a little bit too much.

He was the first and only boy who made you wonder whether it’s how love feels like. But at the fragile age of eighteen you pushed down that feeling as deep as you could until it drowned because you couldn’t let something like that change your plans. You weren’t about to stay behind in this small neighbourhood for something so fickle like teenage love. So before Sungho could have gotten a chance, you told him that you would leave right after graduation and wouldn’t look back. You told him about your dreams and how nothing else had a place in your future until you achieved them.

Yet, here you are.

Back in the same neighbourhood, crouched down in the alley between the corner coffee shop and a convenience store, feeding a stray cat out of a can of tuna because even if you can’t help yourself, at least you can help a hungry animal. It brings a smile to your face when it purrs and nuzzles against your legs. You take out your phone to snap a photo to look back on this moment but the moment the cat sees the charms dangling from your phone case, it turns into a game of play catch as the cat extends its little claws to tug on the charms and you try to hold them out of reach. You chuckle at the playfulness of the situation and even the pain registers belatedly.

You hiss and abruptly stand up, examining the fresh claw marks on the back of your hand. The sudden movement startles the cat so much that it bolts and hides between the cartboxes in the back, so you leave it there and head inside the café as you originally planned.

Last time Sungho didn’t let you pay, so you wanted to come back on your own accord, so he couldn’t refuse. The chime’s sound echoes in the cosy place when you open the door and Sungho looks up from his place behind the counter, face breaking into a smile immediately when he recognizes you. It’s not his customer service smile, it’s the smile you categorized as something meant for you back in the day. You didn’t think nor did you dare to hope to see it again after what happened. It makes you feel like a teenager all over again.

You order a latte and smile as you let Sungho show off his latte art skills. He messes up and blames it on you watching. It’s endearing.

“Do I make you nervous?” You blurt out without thinking and Sungho chuckles, scratching behind his ear, embarrassed.

“Always.”

It leaves you speechless, his honesty, because you don’t know what to do with it. How can he be like this around you even after all these years? How can he still look at you the same?

You fumble a bit as you take the mug and find yourself a table next to the window, feeling Sungho’s eyes on you the whole time. In a minute he’s next to you with the heated up pastry you asked for but he stalls by your table a bit more.

“What happened?” He points at your hand, concern clear in his voice and you blink in confusion before looking down and realising what he’s talking about.

“Oh, it’s nothing. A cat scratched me while I was trying to feed it,” you unconsciously cover the hand with the now dried blood and dull pain.

“Wait here,” Sungho tells you as if you might run away like a spooked animal while he’s gone.

He’s back quickly enough with a first aid kit from the kitchen. He gingerly sits down in the seat across you and hastily looks through the box. Once he has found the cotton pads, plasters and bottle of ointment, he reaches out a hand with palm up and looks at you expectantly.

You want to tell him that it’s alright or that you can do it yourself but you don’t want to argue, you don’t want to make him more worried or feel bad, so you take a shallow breath and put your hand over his, three lines of fresh scratches clear on your reddened skin. 

“You should be kinder to yourself too. Not just stray animals,” Sungho says almost absentmindedly while gently applying antiseptic over the wound and you have to blink to stop the tears from falling. Your lower lip wobbles because isn’t that the hardest part?

You have grown up in the belief that putting yourself first is selfish, then the one time you still did it, you regretted your choice. So what is there to be kind for? But Sungho talks about it like kindness isn’t conditional.

You wonder how much he knows. Did your mother tell his mother why you were really back in town? Did he know that you failed? Did he pity you? No, that couldn’t be right. He isn’t that kind of person.

“And you,” you mumble, braving yourself not to pull away, not to drop your gaze and you feel Sungho’s touch slip on your skin.

“What?” He lets out a little, nervous laugh as if he isn’t sure he heard that right. There’s uncertainty and hope mixed in his gaze and it makes you sure that it’s only right for him to know.

“I should be kinder to you too,” you clarify because he’s all soft lines and gentle fox eyes. He has a big heart and he wears it on his sleeve. He holds it out for you to see, to take, as if he isn’t afraid of you breaking it again.

But do you believe in second chances? Maybe you can’t go back in time and change your mind, you can’t undo the hurt you felt or caused but you can do better in the future. You might not feel like you deserve his care or forgiveness but you cannot tell him how to feel. You can only try to treat yourself and others better. And if starts with honesty.

It takes a lot out of you, to open up and tell Sungho about the real reason why you are back, the disappointment you feel like and how lost you are. But once it's out, you feel lighter as if rocks have been lifted from your chest, cliché as it is. You can finally breathe.

Sometimes dreams are just dreams, you realize, meant to be out of reach. Sometimes they build character without ever turning true. Sometimes it’s okay to stop chasing them. It’s okay if they change, if they aren’t ambitious, if they cannot be quantified.

Sometimes dreams are like this: a nice song on the radio you can hum along to without realising it, slender fingers laced with yours, a thumb caressing your inner wrist, your hair in the wind, laughter echoing in a confined space that smells like powdered sugar, like home, a warm hug on cold nights, loving words pressed against your temple.

It’s the same old lively streets, flower-potted railings and store fronts with faded letters holding so much history, so many memories. The school corner stall ahjumma smiling as she hands over the freshly made hotteoks. Impatiently biting into the steaming hot pastry only for Sungho to shake his head and scold you for burning your tongue because he loves you, flawed and all. The honey filling has never tasted so sweet.

[diana-rose-25]

— Let's Dance

PART 2 - PART 3

Style Inspiration

pairing/s: BEBE! Bada Lee x Jam Republic! Reader x Wolf'Lo! Chocol

warnings: None so far, an unrealistic description of being an exchange foreign student, might confuse some words in ballet (as most of them are only through research and not based on experience).

description: A professional ballet dancer in Street Woman Fighter Season 2? (Y/N) Bae, a 23-year-old ballet and dance prodigy enters the fighting arena alongside the infamously known crew, Jam Republic. Making the team's aura far more intimidating despite being clad in soft pink and white clothing, adorned with astonished faces and friendly smiles. As the young woman entered the arena with curious eyes and small smile, the other teams couldn't help but awe at her beauty and elegant aura, unknowingly capturing the eyes of two charismatic dancers.

word count: 6k words

status: unedited

now listening to:

“You really have gone far now. I’m proud of you.”

Harimu watches the heartfelt interaction between the ballet dancer and her previous mentor enviously. She could see the way the Jam Republic member tried to hold in her tears as she walked back to her seat with a grin on her face. She could feel her heart break at the thought of them keeping a wonderful relationship throughout the years despite not seeing each other for a long while.

Harimu smiles at the parallels the both of you seem to have with your previous mentors. Only, she isn’t so fond of her anymore. Still, she brushes it off before anyone can see the crushed look on her face.

“Wow, great job mama.” Kristen says, clapping her hands lightly as she makes way for her member to sit beside her and Latrice.

“My heart is still beating like crazy,” (Y/N) comments, still shaking her hands from the adrenaline. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“You did great out there,” Latrice giggles at her teammate, hugging her sideways for comfort. The other members chimed in, stating their admiration and how proud they are of her.

“Yeah, Wolf’Lo remained undefeated until they challenged you. You broke their winning streak girl! That is some iconic shit.”

“Audrey!”

The pink team turned in horror and shock at the comment of their youngest member, all fully knowing that cuss words and other similar language are frowned upon in most television shows in foreign countries – more so in Asia.

“What?” The youngest tilts her head in confusion, “they’re just going to blur it out or not include this interaction at all.”

“Still,” Ling warns, “its just a slip of the tongue for now but it might turn against you if you’re not careful enough.”

The Battle between Harimu and Redlic was… intense to say the least. In contrast to the healthy relationship Baby Sleek and (Y/N) maintained throughout the years, Harimu and Redlic’s seems to be their exact opposite.

Although the latter has not had the chance to battle against her former mentor, there is a guarantee that no tears of sadness and regret will spill on the dance floor. Much less being unable to battle at all due to the high emotions running all over the place.

“It was heartbreaking, to say the least.” (Y/N) said in her confessional, “having a dance crew is like a second family you run and depend on after all the challenges you must go through. Ending the crew in bad terms must’ve been equally hard for both, because I feel like deep down, they wish things would be different.”

“Aw, poor Redlic,” (Y/N) comments with a frown, looking at the Mannequeen dancer who is currently crying her eyes out.

“Damn, this is why you don’t pick someone from the past,” Emma commented. “Redlic danced too little, now they look like they’re about to cry.”

The members of the pink team nod in agreement, watching both dancers face each other with dissatisfied looks on their faces. They might not know what happened between them, but their faces tell their stories for them.

As Harimu takes a step towards Redlic after the results – the latter winning by two votes, Redlic takes a step back and immediately walks back to her team. Both dancers’ respective crews comfort their members on the verge of tears.

“That was heavy,” Ling says as another short break ensued between every three dance battles. “Do you think something like this will happen again?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Latrice turns to face her. “Deep N’ Dap and 1 Million keeps glaring at each other.”

Already there had been three battles against the members of the crew, yet the most intense one was led by their leaders. In (Y/N)’s opinion, much like the battle before them, not much dancing ensued.

In the end, she was bored. Too much emotion got in the way of what is supposedly a good dance battle.

“Love the drama, hate the battle.” Ling turns to her right, mortified by the comment (Y/N) made.

“True,” Audrey agrees, “I kinda agree with Monika’s statement just now. It was too emotional for me too.” The rest of the pink team silently nods in agreement.

A few more battles Kang Daniel takes the stage again and announces something that will set (Y/N)’s competitive spirit over the edge.

“This round of No Respect, Battle with the Weakest Dancer…” he starts, “is a special round. It is a battle of the aces.”

“Ace?” Baby Sleek and (Y/N) asked at the same time.

“Select the ace dancer to represent your crew. An ace dancer will randomly be named to enter the fight zone first. If the other ace dancers think the ace dancer in the fight zone is weak, you can challenge them to a battle. If there are more than two challengers, one will be chosen for the battle. The two ace dancers will each dance to the same song for 40 seconds. Special points will be given out in the Ace Battle. The winner of the Ace Battle… will get two points, which is twice the original point.”

Jam Republic listens closely to each word the MC says, heart pounding in anticipation and nervousness as the stakes seem to rise.

“The loser will be deducted two points. You either get double the winning points or double the losing points.”

The air in the studio shifts, becoming heavier the more Kang Daniel explains the rules of the special round.

“You may now select the ace dancer to represent your crew.”

Immediately after he said those words, Jam Republic and the other teams faced each other to discuss their options.

“Do you want to?” Kirsten asks Emma who sheepishly shakes her head no immediately with a giggle.

“What are you thinking?” Kirsten asks Latrice. The said girl groans and replies in an unsure manner, “I’m contemplating it.”

“Contemplating it?”

“Yeah,” Latrice repeats, “it’s scary.”

(Y/N) bit the nail on her thumb, sensing the heavy atmosphere amongst her team to pick their Ace. Admittedly, she wanted to volunteer to be their Ace as soon as the announcement was made. Out of all the members, she had the most experiences in freestyle battles and solo competitions. Not to brag but, she won those competitions 98% of the time.

 However, she overheard who the Ace for Wolf’Lo is, Baby Sleek.

Her undefeated member who excels in almost all styles of dancing, and the one who taught her almost everything she knew about freestyle dancing. There is no doubt in her mind that the lose chip on Wolf’Lo is the first and the last one placed on the board. With Baby Sleek as their Ace, their victory is set in stone.

Yet, as she looked at her members, and the pressured look they have on their faces, she felt a sense of responsibility for them. She feels selfish if she leaves them in the dark. (Y/N) reminds herself that it's just fear and doubt crawling in her mind, and that ultimately, she's here to train and learn.

Besides, she promised herself to show off her growth towards her former mentor. What better way to display all her training than having the opportunity to go one-on-one with her?

“I’ll do it,” she suddenly says, catching them off guard. “If you want me to…” She trails off, feeling increasingly flustered as they silently stare at her with wide eyes.

A beat of silence passed, and a small smirk made its way in Kirsten’s face.

“Perfect.”

“But” (Y/N) cuts off, wiping her hands on her pants and licks her lips at the situation she brought herself in. “We might lose a few battles if I decide to go against the strongest battlers here, but I promise to win back our points if we ever lose. Scouts honor.”

Her members giggled when she held a hand over her heart and held the other hand up in the air. They let out a sigh of relief as one of their members is willingly participating in the special round. This daunting round had them terrified since freestyle isn’t really their strongest suits – other than Audrey, although she never really competed in freestyles before.

“It’s okay, you know, just have fun.” Kirsten says, patting her knees in a comforting manner. “You have the most experience in this round, and I’m so glad you volunteered. I’m sure you’ll kill it out there.”

“Yeah, and you managed to beat one of their strongest battlers.” Latrice motions to the orange team next to them. “Your techniques and skills are no joke. If you ever lose, there is no doubt in my mind you’ll win it back.”

“I mean, you took on Cera and Chocol in battles earlier and winning them speaks volumes.” Emma bumps her shoulders against hers in a teasing manner.

(Y/N) smiles at their words of encouragement. To think that she only met Latrice and Emma earlier this morning, on the day of shooting the show but already trusting her to win for the team makes her heart melt. Thanking them for their trust and promising to do her best, Kirsten writes her name down, officially making her the Ace for Jam Republic.

“I will now announce the ace dancers that will be in the Ace Battle.” Kang Daniel announces once he has the cards back, and each team was given a microphone to introduce their Aces.

Waackxxxy for Mannequeen, Rena for Tsubakill, Locker Zee for Deep N’ Dap, Vessi for Lady Bounce, Kyma for BEBE, Amy for 1 Million, (Y/N) for Jam Republic, and Baby Sleek for Wolf’Lo.

(Y/N) cried internally at the line up of Baby Sleek and Waackxxxy. She’s confident in herself that she could win amongst the others, but those two are the biggest battlers in the entire team of dancers. This is an interesting line up for sure.

She shakes her hands at the adrenaline rushing in her as Emma and Ling hypes her up by massaging her shoulders whilst everyone cheers for the announcement of the Aces.

“The battler for the first round of the Ace Battle…” Kang Daniel starts. Everyone falls silent in anticipation.

“Is Baby Sleek from Wolf’Lo.” The orange team claps and cheers for their member. “Please step into the fight zone.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” (Y/N) groans, watching her former mentor stride up to the middle of the dance floor confidently. “I wanna cry.” 

“Ace Dancers that would like to challenge Baby Sleek from Wolf’Lo to win two points, make your move. You get 100 seconds. Let’s go.”

“Come on!” Baby Sleek motions to come at her with a bright smile on her face. (Y/N) laughs at her antics despite feeling her hands and feet shake at the thought of going against her. No matter how confident she is, going against Baby Sleek is nothing short of terrifying.

“Absolutely not.” Ling comments.

“And if no one wants to battle? What happens?” Kirsten asks Latrice.

“I don’t know,” her teammate replies.

It’s as if Baby Sleek hears her, she asks Kang Daniel if she wins the two points if no one challenges her. The MC gave no reply, so she once again encouraged the people around her.

“Come on. We don’t have time. We have to get going.”

“I hope someone challenges her.”

“Shouldn’t Waackxxxy challenge her?”

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands. No one seems willing to challenge Baby Sleek anytime soon. Too frightened to lose their team points, she realizes she isn’t any different from them. With a bite of her bottom lip and slapping her hands down against her thighs, she asks, “should I challenge her?”

“Only if you want to,” Ling replies, looking at her and patting her shoulders.

“It’s totally up to you if you want to. Don’t worry about the points.” Kirsten assures. “I have a feeling that you want to challenge her but you’re afraid to do so, don’t think about the points if you really want to though.”

(Y/N) takes in the words of her teammates and contemplates it.

“You have ten seconds left.” Kang Daniel announces.

The countdown starts and no one’s standing up. She looks around, weighing in her options. Jam Republic seems to be doing well in terms of their scores, if she loses, she can challenge other Aces to win it back – if they pick her that is. As she hears the five second count down, her feet move on their own and unconsciously lead her towards the center of the dance floor.

“Let’s go, (Y/N)!” Audrey cheers from her spot.

From her peripheral vision, she sees the Ace of 1 Million do the same, they make brief eye contact before bowing down to each other and Baby Sleek.

There was a roar of applause from the audiences and the judges the moment those two young women stands up from their seats to challenge the unbeatable beast. Even the host can’t help but let out an impressed grin at their braveness.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t expect (Y/N) to challenge her former mentor.”

“They’re so brave for doing this.”

“Baby Sleek’s choosing (Y/N) for sure.”

“Another match of mentor vs. student.”

Despite the – admittedly, quite loud comments circulating the arena of the dancer’s anticipation between the first match of the Aces, (Y/N) could only focus her attention on the woman in front of her.

She stands tall beside Amy, confident of the fact that there is a 90 percent chance Baby Sleek will choose her as her opponent.

“Baby Sleek of Wolf’Lo, who will you choose as your opponent for this Battle?” Kang Daniel asks. “Amy of 1 Million, or (Y/N) of Jam Republic?”

There was no contemplation, no hesitation, as Baby Sleek brings the mic up to her lips as she announces: “I admire your braveness and boldness to challenge me, but I have already decided when I saw the two of you.”

Everyone listened intensely to every word Baby Sleek said. The entire arena falls silent as she pauses for dramatic effect, awaiting to see who she chose.

 “So, (Y/N) of Jam Republic, show me what you’ve got.”

(Y/N) grins as soon as she hears her name, clapping her hands and bowing down to Baby Sleek and Amy. She might lose this battle, but the fact that the strongest battler here chose her as her opponent is an immense honor to have.

As (Y/N) was thrilled yet frightened she got picked, Amy went back to 1 Million feeling dejected.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Her teammates comforted her, knowing how much she wanted to battle Baby Sleek. She gave them a reassuring smile despite it all.

Team Jam Republic’s cheers were the loudest, amongst the other crews. Yet, as you look closely, two dancers made their way towards the front. They tried to seem as nonchalant as possible, but on the inside, they’re eager to see you put your best into this battle.

Haechi and Lusher notices it though, nudging another member to gesture at their friend who’s now standing in front with their arms crossed, eyes focused solely on the ballerina of the pink team.

“This’ll be bloody,” Monika says. Eyes trained on the two dancers currently preparing for their battle along with her fellow judges.

“Let’s go, (Y/N)!” Jam Republic cheers, holding up their pink banners.

No words were exchanged between the two Aces, only sharing knowing smiles and teasing smirks.

“Let’s begin the battle between the two Ace dancers now. You guys ready?” Kang Daniel asks teasingly, causing (Y/N) to grin as it helped her loosen up and started bouncing on the spot.

This is it. The battle she’d been waiting for, the battle they’d all been waiting for.

Hip Hop Beast vs. Prima Ballerina.

Unbeatable Mentor vs. Prodigy Student.

The battle of the season.

Everyone’s at the edge of their seat, the lights dimmed, and the music starts to play.

“Headbanger.”

 Shouts of awe and excitement commenced as they witnessed, yet again, the sudden change of expression from (Y/N)’s face. The once smiling and bouncing girl now sported her famous siren eyes once Get Ur Freak On by Missy Elliott starts playing.

Locking and popping wasn’t (Y/N)’s usual style, but when she factors in her flexibility – her strongest skill, she’s quite good at it. Given the mood and flow of the song, she opted to use that style. Hitting each beat with precision, and with the impressed noise from the audiences, she’d say she’s doing well.

Baby Sleek tried to keep her face straight even though she’s thoroughly impressed with how much her student had grown. (Y/N)’s impressive, she’ll give her that, but she’s still lacking in experience compared to her. Yet, she reminds herself, she isn’t just any ordinary student, she’s a prodigy for a reason. For the first time in quite a while, she felt nervous in a battle.

(Y/N) kept eye contact with Baby Sleek all the time, coming up near her former mentor’s face, gesturing a “listen to me now” before spinning back in her space. Baby Sleek smirked, before letting out an impressed clap and shout when she did an illusion turn and an inside leg turn in one go.

“Yeah, (Y/N) let’s go!” Audrey yells from the sidelines. Seems that Baby Sleek’s not the only one impressed by the endless number of tricks and skills (Y/N) seems to possess as Monika stands up from her seat with a shout.

Chocol knew the ballerina from the pink team is a formidable opponent after their battle together, but she didn’t know that she’s also an experienced competitor. That’s made abundantly clear when the slight nervousness she notices on (Y/N)’s face at the beginning slowly fades away the longer she dances.

It’s like she’s in her element. Nothing else matters when she dances. Chocol doesn’t notice it, but it’s like she’s being pulled towards her the longer she watches.

Unconsciously, (Y/N) had her wishing – if it’s possible, to someday be a part of her world.

She shakes her head at the ridiculous thought. (Y/N)’s out there dancing and she’s here quoting Little Mermaid. How ridiculous was that?

Bada, on the other hand, didn’t even bother to hide how impressed she was of her anymore. (Y/N) of Jam Republic is a phenomenal dancer and battler, why bother hiding how impressed she was?

She stands to the side while watching you closely with a grin on her face. Yeah, it’s settled, she’s getting your number after today’s filming. She’d be a fool if she leaves today without getting a chance to know you better.

Kang Daniel begins the last 5 seconds of her time, so she takes the opportunity to end her time by doing turns, down to a middle split before standing up again without the use of her hands.

(Y/N) puts her best techniques in this battle. She might lose (though a small part of her wishes she doesn’t), but she’s satisfied with the performance. Guessing by the cheers amongst her crew and others, she did well.

It was Baby Sleek’s turn, and from the start, (Y/N) knew it was a losing battle. It was really different from watching her mentor teach her to having a dance off. Baby Sleek really is a monster in this part of the competition – but so is she.

Both dancers bowed down to the other after the timer is up, facing the judges with hearts on their throats and fidgeting with their fingers.

The world around them blurred – becoming a hazy vision as they could only focus at the judges who are visibly having a difficult time choosing between the two of them. And then, the cards turned.

Mike and Shownu showed both cards – pink and yellow.

Monika chose pink.

It was a rematch, but (Y/N) was bewildered.

Never in a million years could she imagine a rematch with her mentor when it comes to a dance battle, much less having one more point than her.

Even Kang Daniel was shocked at the result, letting out an excited chuckle as he announces a rematch.

The whole arena went crazy at the results. Jam Republic members even more ecstatic and shock at the side of Wolf’Lo. And for the first time since the beginning of the Battle of the Ace, Baby Sleek is nervous.

“This is so crazy!” Bada says to Lushes, “Baby Sleek went against her old students and lost by a point so far!”

“Unnie, your fangirl is showing!” Lusher teases, receiving a light shove on her shoulder curtesy of their leader.

“LET’S GO (Y/N)!” Audrey cheered loudly from the sidelines, causing the woman to snap out of her shocked gaze just in time when the music starts.

A slashing metal sound echoed through the studio, and as if it’s her body’s natural reaction to follow through with the music, (Y/N)’s back bends.

Screams of awe and impress can be heard once again from the dancers and judges at the opening move of the Jam Republic dancer once You Should See Me in a Crown by Billie Eilish starts playing.

“This is crazy! This is so crazyyyy!” Bada yells, watching the battle unfold right before her eyes – mostly trained to the ballerina dancer in front of her.

“Yah, I’m getting nervous now!” Chocol yells, “Jam Republic really brought their big guns with them!”

“Forget big guns, they brought a machine gun with them!” Mini replies with a yell, eyes also trained to the battle.

While the leader of Jam Republic is busy hyping up her team mate on the dance floor, Halo, the leader of Wolf’Lo, could feel sweat forming at her hands the longer she watches.

They were confident with choosing Baby Sleek as their Ace, as their hidden wild card, they all collectively agreed that she can beat anyone in this room when it comes to freestyle dancing. Yet, this ballerina from Jam Republic continues to threaten their place in the hierarchy.

As the two dance – Halo fears that with the charisma and skills of (Y/N), Baby Sleek might lose this battle for the first time in a long while.

It was a blur for the dancer of Jam Republic, one minute she was dancing to the feel of the song, the next the timer was up and done.

Her chest heaved in a mix of adrenaline, anxiety, and anxiousness for the results. Baby Sleek, as if sensing her inner demons, walks up to her and wraps her for a side hug as they wait for the results.

“Judges, are you ready?” Kang Daniel asks.

“No, wait please!” Monika says, “why did you make it harder for me?!” she whines, stomping on her feet as she looks at the dancers causing everyone to laugh.

“Waahhh…!” Mike Song groans as he stares at the cards.

A minute later, all the judges nodded in agreement with their choices.

“Judges, card open.”

Everyone’s at the edge of their seats, wanting to witness who the winner of the battle is. (Y/N) squeezes her arms around her former mentor, pressing her head against her chest, feeling comforted at the rapid beating of Baby Sleek’s heart.

As if in slow motion, the judges turn their cards.

1 yellow.

2 pink.

(Y/N) just won a battle against her mentor.

“YES!” Audrey and Emma yells, jumping off their seats in excitement.

Ling, Latrice, and Kirsten stand up with a clap from excitement as well.

Everyone else yells in awe at the outcome of the battle – Wolf’Lo especially, though more impressed than anything else.

As chaos ensues around them, it took all off (Y/N)’s will power to not sob on the spot when she hugs Baby Sleek tightly and burrows her head on her chest.

The older woman chuckles at the action, hugging her back just as tight whilst smoothening her hair on the back.

“Aigoo, aigoo, don’t cry. You did so well!”

“Don’t say that please, I’m trying so hard to not cry right now!”

Baby Sleek burst out into laughter as she hears her muffled voice. They stayed that way for a couple more seconds, before (Y/N) pulls away.

Baby Sleek shows a fond smile at her former student, brushing her hair back a squeeze her cheeks. “Well done.”

Try as she might, (Y/N) can’t stop a grin and the single tear sliding down her cheek. Baby Sleek brushes it away with a fond smile before patting her head and leading her to the side of Wolf’Lo and handing her two cards to place on their board.

Everyone watches them in silence, taking in the sweet mother-daughter aura the two of them emits. The members of Wolf’Lo, despite being a bit bitter at the loss, can’t help but smile at the action of their oldest member.

After (Y/N) places the cards on their board, Baby Sleek wrapped an arm around her shoulder to stand in front of the yellow team.

With a big grin on her face, she points at (Y/N) and says: “this is my student.”

~ ~ ~

With the Ace Battle finish in which (Y/N) had to battle against Rena of Tsubakill– winning the battle, it skyrocketed the position of Jam Republic into 2nd Place after the battle with the team Tsubakill.

Back in the comfort of their own room, the members celebrated by dancing and acting silly in front of the camera stationed inside. Kirsten and Latrice twerked around while Ling and (Y/N) stayed at the back, watching them have fun and act all silly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Audrey begins, taking (Y/N) by the arm and dragging her in front of the camera. “Jam Republic’s MVP for today….(Y/N) BAE!!!”

The rest of the members cheers, making a fan with their hands around (Y/N)’s blushing form.

“No pictures, no pictures please.” Kirsten mocks, pretending to shield (Y/N) whilst Latrice follows suit by pretending to talk to an ear piece and having an arm in front of her.

“Stop it,” (Y/N) groans as she buries her face in her hands.

“Well done ladies,” Kirsten says pulling everyone for a group hug, “we did it. We really did it.”

“I’m really proud of us.” Ling comments.

“I can finally sleep after this,” Latrice says jokingly to which (Y/N) agrees.

“Well this was an intense day,” Emma commented, plopping down on the couch next to Ling as she drinks her water.

“But it was fun though, I haven’t battled since I was 9 or 11.” Kirsten replies, taking a seat next to (Y/N) who was stretching out her legs.

“This one, on the other hand,” their leader begins, signaling the ballerina. “Definitely showed years of skills, techniques, and showed them all what she got.”

“The only reason why Wolf’Lo had 3 loses!” (Y/N) could feel her face heat up at Latrice’s comment, feeling all eyes on her.

“But that was really brave off you for volunteering as our Ace,” Kirsten pats her thigh. “Honestly, I think we wouldn’t have placed higher if it wasn’t for you.”

(Y/N) shakes her head immediately, “are you kidding me? I didn’t do all the work, you guys were amazing out there!”

“Yeah, but you really saved us out there in the Ace Battle.” Ling added, “plus, battling against the top battlers in this competition is insane. And winning them?”

“Damn girl,” Emma sends the girl a teasing smirk. “No need to be so humble, take the compliment.”

(Y/N) was about to reply but was then cut off by Latrice who suddenly let out a giggle. “She didn’t only win those battles.”

Kirsten met her eyes and suddenly understands, wrapping an arm around her younger team mate and squeezed her shoulders. (Y/N) shifts her gaze between the two of them in confusion.

“What?”

“Let’s just say, hearts were also won this day.” Kirsten and the rest of the girls could only laugh at the confused look painted on her face.

“What? What’s happening?” (Y/N) asks, shifting her eyes at her members who only shakes their head with a smile.

“You’ll find out.” Ling says as she leans back on the couch, “eventually.”

The screen in front suddenly went on, showing Kang Daniel and the rules for the next Mission. Jam Republic falls silent, eager to know what he has to say.

“Street Woman Fighter 2, the first Mission: No Respect Battle with the Weakest Dancer. Did it help you figure out the other crews?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Ling nods her head in agreement.

“To try and secure your ranking or go up the ranking, here’s the next mission that you’ll have to face soon.”

(Y/N) clasps her hands in anticipation – she, along with Ling, watched the first season of Street Woman Fighter. So if they are following the flow of the first season, that means…

“You next mission is…Class Mission.”

“Eyyy!” Ling and (Y/N) looks at each other with understanding, holding out their hands.

“In the Class Mission, the elite members of each crew will be assigned to four classes: The Leader Class, Sub-leader Class, Middle Class, and Rookie Class. Each class will finish a dance video.” Kang Daniel explains.

“Okay,” Kirsten leans forward, grasping the knowledge for the next mission.

“In each class, there will be one main dancer,” Kang Daniel explains further, “to be the protagonist of each dance video. The main dancer will get extra points, stand at the center of the video, and direct the dance video.”

“It also says the Main Dancer will get an extra 100 points,” (Y/N) translates for them. Jam Republic nodded their heads in understanding before listening to Kang Daniel again.

“Individual scores will be given out in the Class Mission. The points will be distributed differently in each class.”

“Individual scores? Individual scores from?” Kirsten asks.

“The three judges will rank the dancers of each class from 1st to 8th places. The individual scores will be based on the rankings. 100 for 1st, and 30 for last.”

“Individual scores didn’t exist before, right?” (Y/N) asks Ling.

“No, I don’t recall.” Ling replies, “it’s all about survival now.”

“Oh shoot.” (Y/N) cranes her neck, pushing her shoulders back – preparing herself mentally for the next mission.

“So, we’re gonna rank high in every single one if not be the main dancers.” Ling says to which everyone agrees.

“Yes. Just take over.” Latrice replies with a confident smile.

“In No Respect, Battle with the weakest dance, we had announced that the first-place crew would receive a huge benefit.”

“Damn, let’s aim for first place next time.” (Y/N) says as they watch Kang Daniel.

“The benefit for the first-place crew, to help you start the mission at an advantage is…that we’ll tell you the lineups for all seven crews.”

“Ahh,” Emma starts, “that’s a really good advantage.”

“Yeah, they can strategically place the most suited member they think will win the Main Dancer position for each class.” Audrey comments.

A knock from the front door alerts the crew, it opens and a staff from the show requests for Kirsten to pick the members for each class. In less than 30 minutes, Kirsten comes back with the crew and tells them her decision and the girls she selected for each class.

Leader Class – Kirsten

Sub-Leader Class – Latrice

Middle Class – (Y/N) and Audrey

Rookie Class – Emma

With the collaboration of producers around Korea, each producer and musicians who made the song for each class was introduced along with a short clip of the music they need to make aa choreography for.

“In 12 hours, you will present your 30 second choreography to your class members.” Kang Daniel finishes his explanation and the screen turns black.

“Okay girls, let’s pull this Mission off!” Kirsten yells, standing up from her seat with a clap as they began packing and starts heading off for their hotels.

Audrey and (Y/N) share a room together, which makes it easier for them to work on their piece. Additionally, they had a history of dancing and creating choreography together long before participating in the show. With their ambition and history, there is no room for failure in their books.

As they prepare to leave the building of the studio, someone calls out to (Y/N). They stop and look back too see Baby Sleek and the rest of Wolf’Lo, seemingly also on their way to head home as well.

“Hi!” (Y/N) greets them with a smile and a wave, followed by the rest of her members. They all exchanges pleasantries with one another as Baby Sleek turns her attention to her.

“Heading home too?” Baby Sleek asks while adjusting the strap of her bag.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) confirms. “We wanted to get a bit of rest first before working on our pieces. It’s been a hectic day.”

Baby Sleek nods in understanding, before she can say anything else, Mini suddenly appears at her side. Arm linked tightly around Chocol who was dragged there unwillingly.

The rest of the Jam Republic silently watches the face of the orange-haired member. Taking note of the small blush on her ears despite the cap covering most of their vision of her face.

“You were amazing out there!” She begins, “that no hand stand you did right after split? The illusion one leg turn thing? Oh my gosh you must teach me how you did that!”

“Mini,” Halo scolds, “she and Baby Sleek were talking. Don’t be so rude.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” (Y/N) and Baby Sleek dismisses, “and sure! I’d love to teach you how to do it. Ideally when we have a long break between shooting soon.”

Mini claps her hand in excitement. “That’s great! I cannot stress enough how amazing you were out there again. We should hang out sometime, right Chocol?”

Mini, Baby Sleek, and (Y/N) turn their gazes towards the orange-haired member.

Chocol froze in her spot. The other members are busy conversing with one another while waiting for their ride home, so she can’t escape this situation Mini placed her in.

As she meets the bright eyes and smiling face of (Y/N), Chocol could feel her palms sweat and face heating up.

“Mhm. Yeah, sure.” She forces out, shoving her hands on the pockets of her hands. Ignoring the wide-eyed look Mini sent her way and the way Baby Sleek rolls her eyes.

(Y/N), sensing the awkward atmosphere around them, just smiles and says, “yeah! Let’s do that, can I have your number so we can schedule and talk about it?” She asks, fishing out her phone from her pocket.

Chocol takes note of the pink case of her phone with a butterfly design.

“Oh no, I don’t know my number yet. And my phone is dead…” Baby Sleek furrows her eyebrows at the obvious fake tone of Mini’s voice. Crossing her arms as she leans her wight on one side with a questioning look towards Mini who was twirling her pink hair.

“But Chocol does! You can have her number and I can get it from her once I get home!” Mini shoves Chocol in front of her.

(Y/N) sand Chocol blushes at the close proximity between them at Mini’s action, letting a small, nervous chuckle as the both of them leans back and (Y/N) hands Chocol her phone.

“(Y/N), the ride is here.” Emma says as the black van pulls up in front of them and the security opens the door for them.

The mentioned girl turns and nods towards her fellow member as they board the van one by one after bidding farewell to the orange team.

Chocol hands her back her phone, once again blinded by the bright smile on her face.

“Thank you! You were amazing during the battle earlier by the way.” (Y/N) says, bouncing lightly on her feet. “I have to go now, it was nice meeting and catching up with you.”

Baby Sleek and Mini returns her sentiments as Chocol could only respond with a small smile and a nod.

(Y/N) and Baby Sleek hugged each other before the former girl enters the van. The door was shut before driving off, the orange team continuing to wave their hands until the van was no where in sight.

Silence then envelopes the team as they waited for their own ride.

“Really?” Mini asks, side eyeing Chocol.

“Shut up,” Chocol responds. Pulling her cap down more to hide the redness of her face.

“Pathetic.”

“Shut up!”

tag list:@luvjanexx @b1ackbunny @thedevilisrory @kaaylvst @badagf @aestrelle19 @leo-dragon@xiakiyama @watamotee33 @tnu-ree @hallotherenicetomettyou @skuuzae @froufrousnowman @strawblueberrys @avocifera@urvirtualgfteehee@kaylinsimpson@jksjx@1luvkarina@jjlovesbada@infinite1sblog @randomhoex@maximoff-jp@woniesheep@tsuunlovers @bada-lee-ily @deadpool15@maknaehyucks @smoooore@efyyylee @amararosesblog @zhivaxo @badasgirlfriend @pupbistro @bluebada @westwoodsvivi @haebragi @awkwardtoafault @woniesheep @imasimpfortallwomen @fangslash @jaeminpookie

note: initialized names can't be tagged.

next part >>>

[paiges-1vur]

pt. 1. | from across the crowd.. as always, enjoy loves <3 *prologue posted* 🏀⚡️🪩

“what.. you guys, why are you all looking at me like that!” my words led to only more strange looks. my friends all sat around me, mouths open. “tiff. oh my gosh. are you joking!” my friends all start bombarding me with insults and “i can’t believe you’s”

i seriously had no clue this girl even existed until my friends had shown me her.. ten minutes before the game started. while i didn’t even know of her existence, my friends seemed to know her whole life story.

“okay guys but should i put it on?” i ask the group around me. i mean, i was genuinely cold. i had goosebumps forming on my arms and legs from how cold it was in the stadium. i should have noticed something was off when i left my apartment and nobody else was in going out clothes.

my closest friend madisen, who also seemed to know the most about paige encouraged me to put it on. “she wouldn’t have given it to you if she didn’t want you to wear it.. right?” she says shrugging. i slowly pull the hoodie over my head, immediately feeling warmed up.

the hoodie says uconn basketball on it, and has paiges number and last name on it. im immediately flooded by her scent. she smells… really good. like a mix of musk, wood, and smoke. as the rest of the game plays out all i can think about is the fact that i’m wearing her hoodie. i didn’t want the moment to ever end. but it unfortunately did when the buzzer sounded and Uconn was announced the winner.

me and my friends decided to stick around after the game for a little while. they got up to throw out our trash, and empty drink cans while i tried to find paige. i wanted to thank her for lending me her hoodie. its the least i could have done.

as i get up to search for paige, i see her walk out of the locker room.. and walking up to me. she was smiling, standing in front of me, practically towering over me. to be fair, i am 4’11 but that is only due to terrible genetics, and a very short mother. “hey” is all she says, but its enough to make my heart beat faster.

“hey, your name is… paige right?” i say to her smiling innocently, pausing before saying her name, not sure if i had remembered it totally correctly. honestly i could forget my own name right now if she asked me for it. she laughs slightly before responding, “yea thats my name, you remember me?”

I try to play it cool. “well my friends wouldnt shut up about you the whole game” i say laughing. “i didnt even know who you were before i got here.. well they dragged me here, and then almost killed me when i didnt know who you were. long story” i say, trying to explain the crazy night i’ve had. she laughed harder than me, surprised at my confession. “oh.. so you’re telling me you just showed up here, not even knowing who i was?”

im slightly embarrassed, and i hope its not showing on my cheeks. “well.. I’ve never been a fan of basketball, so my friends knew i wouldnt come to the game. they told me we were going out to the bars tonight, and dragged me here. that’s why i was wearing such a… revealing outfit before you gave me your hoodie. bad outfit planning on my part. and yea to be honest i had never heard of you in my life” I try to explain clearly, but I’m not even sure if i believe this all happened in one night.

“oh, wow so you really had no idea who i was?” she sounds almost surprised at this fact. “no.. not really, why?” I say, a slight bit confused. i wonder if i should have known her.

“oh, here’s your hoodie, by the way” i say, pulling it off and folding it into my hands. im now left in ny old outfit. my jean mini skirt and Uconn tank top leave quite frankly, little to the imagination. im not very proud of how i look in this moment, but the least i can do is give paige her hoodie back. “nah, don’t worry about it you can keep it. you look..” her eyes roam my body quickly, “cold anyway. and it looks better on you than me.” i smile at her and slip it back on. the hoodie reaches my mid thigh, its so oversized. “thank you so much- again im so sorry i didn’t know the stadiums were so.. cold oh my gosh.” i say laughing.

she laughs too, looking down at me and smiling. she bites her lip, like shes thinking hard about something before she speaks again. “can i, ask you a question?” im suddenly intrigued why paige bueckers would want to ask me a question but i bite. “yea sure, go ahead.” i say smiling at her, awaiting her next words.

“you probably have a boyfriend.. right?”

[devildomwriter]

Every “I Love You” Vol 1-4

Lucifer

22-C

Lucifer: “I love you. Truly and deeply.”

28-15

Lucifer: “I never knew I could feel this way. I never knew I had such passion inside me. MC…I love you.”

28-19 (2)

Lucifer: “MC, I love you. Well, we may not be on stage now, but I’m happy to say it again. As many times as you’d like. I love you, MC. Truly and deeply…”

38-9

Lucifer: “I love you, MC. Truly. As much as I’d like my memory back, and to remember everything that’s happened, there’s something I want even more… I want to know how you feel about me.”

38-9 (2)

Lucifer: “I love you, too. With all my heart. How many times have I told you that before? Because I want to tell you so many more times that my old self did. …In fact, no matter how many times I might say it, I feel like it will never be enough. I love you, MC. Kiss me. If I told you that I actually feel jealous of the old me, would you laugh…?”

40-22

Lucifer: “I love you, MC. There’s no need to say goodbye. Because we’ll see each other again. Soon.”

41-19

Lucifer: “I love you… It’s strange… We haven’t been apart long at all, yet it feels like it’s been a century. Why is that?”

Mammon

25-17

Mammon: “MC…! You’re the best! You never let me down, and it’s just…amazing! YOU’RE amazing! I love you, MC! More than I’ve ever loved anyone!”

29-12 (2)

Mammon: “I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I CAN’T STAND IIIIT!”

MC: “…?!”

Mammon: “I want to [CENSORED], [CENSORED], and [CENSORED] like there’s no tomorrow!”

33-14

Mammon: “Like, what it I accidentally let it slip that I love you, huh?!”

33-14

Mammon: “I love you so much it’s crazy! Like, so much that my stomach fills with butterflies and my heart jumps out of my chest! I think about you all the time, even when you’re not around! Like, I feel like I’m losin’ my mind!”

33-14

Mammon: “And I like you, MC. …I love you, actually. So, what about you? Come on, say you feel the same way, MC.”

33-14

Mammon: “Yeah…I love you too. Like, so much it’s crazy. I mean I love Lucifer and my other brothers too. I love ‘em to death, honestly. But with you it’s different. It’s special…”

43-15

Mammon: “Dammit! Like I could ever really say that to you! I love you MC! And I’ll NEVER break up with you, okay?! NEVER!”

53-9

Mammon: “I love you, MC! And I’d take you over money any day!”

Leviathan

48-4

Leviathan: “Um…listen, MC… …Thanks. I love you, too. And I really appreciate that you’d say that to me. But that’s also why I want to learn to take pride in myself. Because I want you to love me even more than you already do…”

48-9

Leviathan: “…Ugh, what do I do? I’m not so sure I want to let you go after all. You’d better leave before I change my mind. Oh, but make sure to come back once you’re done with whatever it is, okay? …I love you, MC.”

Satan

21-14

Satan: “Mm, it finally feels real now. You really are back. I love you, MC. Welcome home.”

42-10

Satan: “After all, you already have me. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Isn’t that right? I love you, MC…”

Asmodeus

13-20

Asmodeus: “Hehe, I knew that already. I love you too, MC. Though I think I’d rather have you tell me that while lying next to me in bed.”

19-70

Asmodeus: *sigh* “Oh, wow. All you did was kiss me, and I feel like I’ve died and gone to the Celestial Realm…! I love you, MC… I love you more than anything!

22-10

Asmodeus: “Mmhm… I feel the same way. I love you too, MC. I absolutely adore you!”

31-2

Asmodeus: “Hehe. I love you, MC. So much it’s crazy…”

31-2

Asmodeus: “Oh MC! I love you SO MUCH!”

32-19

Asmodeus: “Whaaat? You mean I can’t kiss you? Ugh, you’re so meeean! Still, I just can’t help loving you! I love you SO MUCH, MC!”

34-1

Asmodeus: “MC, does that mean you believe me? Hehe, you’re absolutely adorable. I love you so much, MC!”

39-18

Asmodeus: “I love you SO MUCH. More than words can describe…”

41-7

Asmodeus: “I love you so much, I can barely contain myself… Ugh, I can’t take this any longer…”

54-1

Asmodeus: “Wait, are you saying I don’t need to use my powers on you? You just find me naturally charming? Oh MC, you’re SO sweet! I love you to death!”

60-22

Asmodeus: “MC, you’re so adorable. I love you, and I’m going to miss you so much. It’s going to be unbearable…”

67-9

Asmodeus: “Hehe, thank you! Oh MC, there aren’t even words to describe how much I love you.”

67-9

Asmodeus: “I thought I’d use my butt to express just how I feel about you, MC. I love you, and I want you to know it.”

Beelzebub

45-18

Beelzebub: “Mm… …Okay, I was wrong. I don’t actually like you. I love you.”

46-19

Beelzebub: “You remember when I gave you my star, right? And now here you are giving ME a star… I promise that I’ll always treasure it. Always and forever… I love you, MC.”

69-17

Beelzebub: “Well, it’s the same with me. You’re always on my mind. I love you, MC…”

80-10

Beelzebub: “I’ve been waiting so long to do this… For it to be just the two of us alone… I love you, MC…”

Belphegor

20-11

Belphegor: “But even if you go back to the human world, I’ll always love you, MC. Because there’s no one else like you anywhere. Not in the Devildom, not in the Celestial Realm, not in the human world.”

41-14

Belphegor: “I love you, MC. You have no idea how much…”

55-18

Belphegor: “Come on, try to keep still. …Here, let me put my arms around you. I love you, MC. …I love you so much, it’s crazy.”

80-10

Belphegor: “I mean, I can’t go to sleep now. Not when it would mean missing out on this… I love you, MC…”

Simeon

52-17

Simeon: “Here, let me look into your eyes. I love you, MC… The question is, how do you feel about me?”

71-17

Simeon: “You know that one song that’s been really popular with everyone at RAD lately? Well, it sums up how I feel about you perfectly. It goes like this. “I was wandering, hurt, lost in an endless night, and you reached out to me… Nestled against each other, we wished that morning would never come. No one can know, no one can know. But I love you so deeply it hurts”…”

71-17

Simeon: “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been hoping to hear you say that. Thank you. Thank you for always being there for me. I love you, MC.”

Diavolo

56-18

Diavolo: “If you’d be okay with it, I’d actually like it if we could do this sort of thing more often. You know, spend more time together. I’m just going to come out and say it, MC… The truth is…I love you

56-18

Diavolo: “I love you so much. You’re so, so precious to me that I can barely take it. Can I kiss you?”

56-18

Diavolo: “I love you, MC. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way about me. Thank you.”

56-18

Diavolo: “Well, even if you don’t have feelings for me, that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I still love you

80-14

Diavolo: “It’s hard getting you alone. After all, wherever you go, Lucifer and his brothers are sure to be nearby. But right now I have you all to myself… I love you, MC…”

Ranks

1. Asmodeus (13)

2. Lucifer/Mammon (9)

3. Diavolo (5)

4. Beelzebub/Belphegor/Simeon (4)

5. Leviathan/Satan (2)

6. Solomon/Thirteen/Barbatos/Mephistopheles/Michael/Raphael (0)

[kendyzzlewp]

Creatures in Heaven||ART DONALDSON

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you run into your old college sweetheart, art, in a hotel bar. old wounds resurface as you tried to make sense of it all.

tags: college sweethearts, angst, non graphic smut?, reconnecting, pain, sad!art, divorced!reader, tears

“I don’t think I realize just how much I miss you sometimes. We were young and so in love. We were just creatures in heaven.”

You’ve always loved hotel bars.

The dimly lit space, the chatter of the guests around you, the overpriced drinks. Sitting down on a stool at the hotel you frequent after a particularly hard day at work, you can’t help but let your mind drift off. The TV above you plays a recap of the latest tennis match. Your old friend shows up on the screen, brown head stuck to his forehead, a huge goofy victorious smile on his face.

You quickly pull up your phone, sending a congratulatory text to Patrick. Making plans to meet before he leaves town.

A glass of wine gets placed in front of you, the maroon liquid swirling slightly.

“Y/N?”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. Turning slightly in your stool, your eyes met surprised blue ones. The pounding of your heart could be heard from miles away. He looked older, fitter. His blonde hair was now shorter, a stark difference to his Stanford days.

“Art,” you whispered, placing your drink down with trembling hands. “Wow, it’s been so long.”

As your gaze meets Art's, memories flood back, and you're reminded of the countless conversations and shared moments in your college dorm. You could lie and say you haven’t been following his career but you weren’t kidding anyone but yourself. You watched every tournament, every match, cheered silently from your apartment as took the tennis world by storm.

As he sits down beside you, you can't help but feel a rush of emotions—nostalgia mixed with a tinge of sadness. The memories of your last encounter weigh heavily on your mind, the pain and heartache still fresh despite the passing years.

"I can't believe it's really you," Art says, breaking the silence. "I've thought about you so often, wondered how you were doing. You look great.”

You look into his eyes, seeing a mix of emotions mirrored back at you. There's regret, longing, and a hint of hope.

"I've thought about you too," you admit, a sad smile playing on your lips. "I watched your matches, saw your rise to the top. I'm so proud of you, Art.

"Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me." Art's expression softens, a bittersweet smile crossing his face. “Wouldn’t be where I am without your support.”

The air between you is heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You both know there's much to discuss, but the weight of the past sits between you like a barrier.

“How’s Tashi?”

You had to ask. Patrick talked about them all the time. Even drunkenly confessing he had slept with Tashi in Atlanta when they bumped into each other for a tournament. You wonder if Art knew, you wonder if he hurt the way he hurt you.

“She’s Tashi,” he whispers, motioning the bartender for a drink. “Same as always.”

Art's response is cryptic, and you can sense the tension in his voice. You remember the pain of hearing about his relationship with Tashi, and it stirs up a mix of emotions within you.

"I heard about your marriage," you say softly, searching his eyes for any reaction. "I hope she makes you happy."

Art looks down at his drink, swirling the liquid around in his glass. His silver wedding band caught the bar’s overhead yellow light.

"It's complicated. Things are... not what they seem."

You nod silently, understanding how complicated a marriage like that could be. You think about your own failed relationship, how it was necessary for you to let your husband go because he couldn’t compare. He could never compare to the man sitting next to you.

“Are you married?” He asked, taking a sip of his whisky.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of Art's question sinking in. It's a question that holds so much significance, one that forces you to confront your own feelings and past decisions.

"Divorced," you reply softly, meeting his gaze steadily.

There's a flicker of something in Art's eyes, a mix of surprise and curiosity. You wonder if he can sense the unspoken truth behind your words, the lingering emotions that still tie you to him despite the passage of time.

"I've had my share of relationships," you continue, your eyes fixed on the drink in front of you. "But they just… didn’t compare."

Art's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what you're feeling. The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I'm glad you're here now."

You feel a rush of emotions at his words, the familiar warmth of his presence washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the years apart and the pain of the past, there's still a connection between you that refuses to fade. You were only really yourself around Art. The rest just got this fucked up, fake version of you.

“I heard you have a daughter,” you said, changing the subject. “How is she?”

A pang of sadness hits you as you see the light in his eyes at the mention of his daughter. You wished you were the one to give him a child, just like you planned together all those years ago. Laid up together in your small dorm bed, hand intertwined, whispering promises and dreams at three in the morning.

“Lily,” Art's expression softens even more at the mention of his daughter, a warm smile spreading across his face. "She's the light of my life."

You can't help but smile at the genuine love and pride in his voice. Despite the complexities of his marriage and the challenges he may face, it's clear that his daughter brings him immense joy and fulfillment.

"I'm so glad to hear that," you say sincerely, feeling a bittersweet tug at your heartstrings. "She's lucky to have a father like you."

Art's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it feels as though the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future fade away, leaving only the warmth of the connection between you.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion.

As you continue to talk about Lily, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth and nostalgia enveloping you. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, there's a comfort in the shared memories and the genuine connection between you and Art.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself opening up more than you ever expected, sharing stories and laughter in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar. It's as if the years apart have melted away, leaving only the familiar ease and familiarity of your college days.

You look down at your phone, eyes widening at the time. “Wow,” you exclaimed. “It’s three am.”

Art chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Time really flies when you're lost in conversation, doesn't it?"

You nod, feeling a mixture of surprise and contentment at how quickly the hours have passed. Despite the late hour, you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of Art's company and the warm ambiance of the hotel bar.

"It's been so wonderful catching up with you," you say, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "I've missed this."

Art's smile mirrors yours, his expression filled with warmth and sincerity. "Me too, Y/N. It's been far too long."

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected reunion and the chance to reconnect with Art after so many years apart. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, you know that this moment will always hold a special place in your heart.

As you bid Art farewell and step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of renewal and hope stirring within you. You start walking down the street, your heart bleeding from reopening old wounds you swore to never touch again.

“Wait!”

You turn around to see Art jogging to catch up to you. He slows down as he approaches you, panting slightly.

“Is everything okay?" you ask, a hint of concern in your voice.

Art looks at you, tears pooling in his eyes. "I know it’s too late, but I just don’t think you realize just how much I miss you sometimes.”

His voice trembles, and you can see the raw emotion in his eyes. He steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to take your hand.

“Y/N, it’s been almost ten years, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I miss the way you laugh, the way you’d stay up with me all night just to help me study, the way you believed in me when no one else did. I miss us.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his heartfelt confession. His words hit you with the force of all the years you’ve spent apart, all the moments you’ve both lived without each other.

“Art…” you begin, but he shakes his head, needing to say more.

“I thought marrying Tashi was the right thing to do, but it never felt right because she wasn’t you. Every achievement, every milestone—it felt hollow because you weren’t there to share it with me. I’ve tried to move on, to live my life, but no one ever came close to making me feel the way you did. I still love you, Y/N. I never stopped. And seeing you tonight, it’s like all those feelings just came rushing back.”

You’re overwhelmed, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to process his words. You feel a mix of hope, fear, and an undeniable longing.

“Art,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “We can’t.”

He takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t know what the future holds, and I know we both have a lot of shit to deal with, but I can’t let you walk away again. I refuse.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation in his gaze. Despite the years apart and the complications of your pasts, the connection between you is undeniable.

“I don’t know what the future holds either,” you admit, your voice shaking. “But I do know that I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Without another word, he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, the taste of whiskey and longing lingering in the air. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away—the pain of the past, the uncertainties of the future—leaving only the warmth of the connection between you and Art.

You both pull back, foreheads pressed together, heavy panting as you both try to catch your breath. Your heartbeat resonating in your ears as you find his hand, interlocking your fingers.

“Take me home?” You asked, silently hoping he understood the underlying tone of your invitation.

Art nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'd love to."

Together, you walk through the quiet streets, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. The world feels hushed and intimate, as if it's just the two of you in your own little bubble of time.

As you reach your apartment building, you turn to face Art, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment feels charged with emotion, a mix of longing and uncertainty swirling between you.

"Do you want to come in?," you say softly, searching his eyes for any hint of what he's feeling. "I think I have some wine…”

He leans in and kisses you again, his lips soft and warm against yours. In that moment, all doubts and fears melt away, leaving only the certainty of your feelings for each other. You opened the door to your apartment, still locked in the passionate kiss.

Art kicks the door closed, walking you further into the room. His hands getting reacquainted with your body, muscle memory kicking in as he lifts you.

“That way,” you mumble against his lips, motioning to a door in the back.

With a soft chuckle, Art carries you towards the direction you indicated, his lips never leaving yours. The heat of the moment ignites a fire within you both as you stumble towards the bedroom.

You want to savor each moment. You need to remember it in case it’s the last time. There’s no rush as your hands lift his shirt over his head, his pale skin glowing with the moonlight that streams from your window. You press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder, feeling goosebumps appear on his skin.

Art does the same, tenderly lifting your dress over your head. His fingers tracing stroking every inch of your skin as he lays you down on your bed.

The room is filled with the sound of your breath mingling with the soft hum of the city outside. In this intimate space, you find solace and connection in each other's arms, lost in a whirlwind of passion and longing.

As the night stretches on, you lose yourself in each other, exploring every inch of each other's bodies as if trying to memorize every detail. Time seems to stand still as you become lost in the moment, consumed by the intensity of your shared desire.

—

Hours later, as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, you find yourselves tangled together in the sheets, your bodies still humming with the echoes of your passion. Clothes strewn around the floor of your bedroom. With a contented sigh, you bury your face in Art's chest, feeling a sense of peace and fulfillment wash over you.

As you lie there in the quiet stillness of the morning, you realize that this is where you belong—wrapped in Art's arms. He holds you as if you were made just for him, so tightly and close. Trying to bound the pieces of you he broke, together.

And as you drift off to sleep, you know that no matter what the future may hold, you will always belong to Art Donaldson.

[gyuwoncheol]

Nothing

Pair: Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: fluff, birthday drabble!

Summary: “It’s your birthday, you can’t just do nothing.” -Kim Mingyu (2023.10.07)

WC: ~800

Author’s Note: completely self-indulgent fluff with my ult to celebrate another year round the shiny ☀️ (this isn’t proof read either).

“Are you sure you really don’t wanna do anything today?” Mingyu asked for the umpteenth time that morning, a pout on his face as he pulled you closer to his side of the bed and rested his chin on your shoulder

“Mhmm”

“Like sure, sure?”

You giggled at the persistence. Truth be told, he’s asked you this question since weeks ago. “Yeah, Gyu. I’m sure.”

“But why? It’s your birthday, you can’t just do nothing.”

“Yes, I can. If I wanna just lay here the whole day with you then I will.”

“But why?”

You giggled a bit more, he seriously sounded like one of those 5 year olds who just keep asking ‘why?’. You turned to your side to snuggle into him, one leg intertwining with his, “because… you’re just so nice… and soft.”

“I’m not soft!” He said in fake offense, “Have you felt these muscles?” Mingyu flexed everything he could manage to prove a point but it only made you break into fits of giggles.

“I know, love,” You replied after calming a bit more, pinching his cheeks while he made a face, “but you’re also still soft and squishy to me.”

“Okay okay…” he huffed, “but birthday plans, seriously? Just lay here?”

“Hmm… apart from a shower, some bathroom breaks, and meals? Sure, why not.” You shrugged.

Mingyu groaned at your answer, he just couldn’t believe you didn’t want to do anything on your birthday. If it were up to him, you would’ve been on your 4th activity by now. This isn’t to say Mingyu didn’t plan things for your birthday, he so did; from lunch with your family, a date to that gallery you’ve always wanted to go, a shopping spree in your favorite book store, and a dinner reservation with him in your fave restaurant, he had it all planned. Except you had kindly requested him to set them tomorrow, the day after your birthday. Today, you just wanted to relax and curl up against your boyfriend, and not be pressured about dressing up, and being on time to things, or entertaining guests at a birthday party.

“This is really killing you, huh?” You chuckled.

“Yes” was the clear answer he gave, “i just… i just don’t want you to look back on this birthday and think, ‘wow we did nothing,’ or feel like you wasted your day-“

“Hey, being with you on my birthday is the total opposite of wasting my day. After last year, this is honestly the best birthday gift I could have.”

Mingyu tried to recall what you meant by ‘last year,’ and then he remembered that last year, he wasn’t even with you on your special day. He was on tour, and he still remembers how you cried silently to him on the phone, frustrated about how you had to work on your birthday, stuck in the office for a full 12hours to prepare for a stupid presentation that no one really ever cared about. It finally clicked in his head, last year’s birthday was exhausting and lonely for you. Maybe this slow down was truly all you needed.

“Angel?” Mingyu asked after a few breaths as he lazily drew patterns on your back.

“Yeah?”

“Will you kill me if I ask you to watch me bake your birthday cake downstairs? Or can that still count as doing nothing?”

You looked up at the sheepish smile Mingyu was sporting, the crinkles in his eyes appearing when you craned your neck to kiss him. Though your boyfriend wasted no time to part your lips and bring you closer, everything about the kiss was soft and gentle. The kind that took your breath away but also made you feel like everything in the world was okay as long as you had him. Maybe it was the way your boyfriend just really wanted to make you feel loved and celebrated despite your lack of “excitement” or maybe it was the way Mingyu’s thumb softly carressed your cheek, but you definitely felt the butterflies in your stomach erupt and a happy sigh left your lips. When you broke apart for air, you could only match the wide grin on your boyfriend’s face.

He took your kiss as a yes of course, but he needed to scratch the itch in his brain, he needed to make sure you were ok with it, especially when he had already laid out all the ingredients on the countertop earlier and you definitely won’t miss it when you go down, not when he also had a huge buoquet of flowers and big shiny balloons displayed. “Sooo…?”

“Tell you what, I’ll even help you bake and it will still count as nothing.”

[vimse]

Ah wow it’s almost 2025, which means it’s time for the yearly art recap. Time flies when you’re struggling through your thesis, but I’m very pleased to scrounge up at least one Tech drawing per month. I’ll do a (not so) short reflection about my 2024 art under the cut if you’re interested, but for now, I’d like to express my greatest gratitude for everybody who has stuck around and shared my art. Hoping that 2025 will be a more productive art year. Byeee 🧡

Tl;dr under the cut: ramblings about my struggle in school, 2024 highlights, hopes and dreams next year

—

Let’s look back at last year’s summary:

What's next in 2024?

More Tech. Some things I'd like to explore in 2024 is character drawings beyond portraits, anatomy, simple backgrounds, OCs, storytelling through short comics, TBB band au, and maybe some commission work

Well, safe to say I didn’t get too much of that done haha. The reason for that is I’ve been really struggling with my undergraduate thesis work in chemistry. I don’t really know the root cause of it, but I just can’t bring myself to finish it and I’ve been procrastinating badly, so much that I’ve missed two presentation opportunities. The third opportunity is within 2 weeks and I’m nowhere finished or ready. It has been a constant source of stress and anxiety throughout 2024. I got burned out by the end of May and went to the school counsel to hand in my resignation notice, but got convinced to stick around but to finish it at a later date, because this is literally the last thing to do before I get my degree. Then afterwards I decided to go back to my old job full time, which has been very tiring and took a long time to adjust to. This is very obviously reflected in the amount of full illustration produced during July to October, especially September when I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything beyond Tech’s hand lol.

If I don’t finish my thesis in time for this round, I think I’ll finally throw in the towel for real. Maybe I’ve doomed my future or something but…this experience has made me feel incredibly (and constantly) bad for a whole year, and it has affected every aspect of my life. I’m very tired of it. And although my current job is very tiresome and probably detrimental to my health, it pays well and the colleagues are wonderful. Additionally, it is a niche job that I have years of experience in, with good connections, so I’m not currently worrying about my future job at all. And it’s still within the chemistry industry, so all the time I spent in school isn’t going to waste. In regard to my future, I’m more worried about wasting all of it on a conventional 7-16 job, of which I don’t think a degree in analytical chemistry would help me avoid anyways.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough. If you’re still here, thank you. Now, let’s look back to some positive highlights in my art year of 2024:

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m content with how I draw Tech. As evident by the picture above, it’s sort of consistent too, which is a bonus.

I joined my first zine!! It’s the Pabu Days zine and I can’t wait for everyone to get their copy of it. Everybody’s pieces are amazing. I wish I did better/more, but the creation period was during the worst time of my year, mental health-wise, and I have to accept that it was the best I could do at the time.

As for the “masterpiece” of 2024, my most proudest work is the CX-Tech piece I did during the height of TBB season 3. I’m incredibly happy with how the rim lights turned out and the overall mood of it. Also the texture on the armour turned out sooo good, I can’t believe I was the one who painted it lol. I wish I could personally show the picture from my monitor, because all the details seem to disappear when viewed on tumblr. Below is the illustration I’m talking about, along with a side by side comparison to the picture I referenced the lighting from + some closeups. Looking back at it now, I wish I added a stronger frontal light source, so that the picture isn’t so dark.

Also, extra shout out to the back study series. I am traditionally not a painter (just grew up as an anime weeb) so making these this was an incredible accomplishment.

With that, I’m wrapping this very long post (sorry) with some 2025 hopes and dreams. Basically it’s the same things I wanted to do in 2024: improve anatomy, more background, work on OC, work on AUs. I want to try very hard to make commissions happen next year, if people are still interested. Something else I want to do that isn’t strictly art related is to connect more with people, especially with those who are still hyperfixated on TBB as I am. I find it hard to socialise on tumblr, but I try to be more social on bluesky. Idk, I think it would be fun to find a small active community that is maybe more focused on clones and oc stuff.

Okay, that’s all! If you’ve made it this far, thank you thank you thank you. Have a happy holiday and may your 2025 be a wonderful, wonderful year.

🧡 vimse

[karmacharmeleon18]

different anon, but wow I also super agree with your kevin takes! i can’t believe you’re getting so much hate over it….i wanted to ask if you felt like there was any other path for kevin in the new trilogy, bc while what he did to jean pmo, i also can’t imagine him doing anything else. on one hand, he left jean to suffer kevin’s own consequences (in part) by leaving him, but also jean even admits he would never have let kevin leave, thus kevin wouldn’t have been able to get his revenge and freedom. it’s the same issue over and over again—why is kevin allowed such selfishness and isn’t as punished or criticized by the fandom (maybe even the narrative? i can only hope the final book actually does something with kevin, since unlike many i doubt we’re getting another book after tsc3)? do you think it’ll be addressed? Nora’s addressing of jean’s trauma seems well crafted enough to suggest that kevin and thea’s callousness would also be addressed. kevin still clearly cares about jean, but its not enough, i think, for not only the betrayal (which is nuanced and very sad) but the continued attitude he has towards him afterwards! kevin will do stuff that shows he cares for his “friends” or whatnot, but this stuff could also clearly be seen as self centered and watered down by his constant insults. he’s an interesting character for sure, but oh wow do i understand jean’s love-hatred of him from his POV. he’s an asshole who feels like he’ll never heal or grow emotionally from the ravens and riko, which is a very unsatisfying and upsetting thing to see from such a crucial character in the series. but i also don’t know how he would move one without losing his ego, which is probably the only thing really keeping him alive now that his revenge has been fulfilled?

sorry if this was repetitive to what you’ve said before or long! love your analysis/thoughts. :)

You know, anon, the og characters being different in this new trilogy was actually a fear of mine. It’s been 10 years since AFTG and I thought, Nora can’t be the same writer she was 10 years ago, and what if she’s changed her mind about this or that character? What if she uses the new books to retcon the old ones? What if I can’t recognize these characters???

But thankfully I could. Thankfully Nora is a very consistent writer and she has not changed her mind about anyone (save for Jean and Jeremy lol).

So taking all of this into account, no, I didn’t expect Kevin to act any differently. irl it’s been 10 years but in-universe it’s been no time at all from TKM. Kevin Day is Kevin Day and at this point it’s pointless to hope for change lmao

To be completely honest, I don’t think it’ll ever be properly addressed. Kevin is allowed to be selfish, and callous, and condescending because he’s Kevin, simple as that. The narrative, the characters have accepted that a long time ago. And most of the fandom has too. Those of us who have a problem with it are destined to suffer lol

Maybe Jean will confront him in the last book, but honestly? It will go in one ear and out the other.

Kevin might “care” for Jean in his own way, but he doesn’t care enough to change his behavior. And I think Jean knows that.

Jean also doesn’t care for apologies, an “I’m sorry” will not change the past. Maybe the Trojans have changed his mind about that, maybe not. Realistically it’s far too soon for such a change.

But what Kevin could do is apologize for his recent/current behavior. Maybe that would give Jean some satisfaction in the moment, it would make him feel vindicated to see and hear Kevin Day admit he is wrong. But after that initial reaction, nothing will have changed.

The best way to take accountability is to change your behavior. And Kevin never will. Because he’s Kevin Day.

Jean can’t hold Kevin accountable because Kevin doesn’t care about him enough.

So who could hold Kevin accountable? What would accountability look like?

Nora said Kevin doesn’t have friends, Thea is the closest thing to one he has. But even with her, he was willing to completely shut her out of his life when he left Evermore. Besides, him and Thea are far too similar for her to be the catalyst for a change of conscience. The only time Thea will ever call him out is when Kevin is thinking too much like a victim: Thea doesn’t tolerate that and pretty much tells him to get over his trauma. The same way Kevin expects everyone else to get over their trauma and just focus on the damn game.

Kevin and Thea will never hold each other accountable for their callousness, their selfishness, their disregard for the feelings of others.

At the end of the day, the only things Kevin truly cares about are Exy and… himself, which by extension means his public persona, the way people see him.

So, what would accountability look like for Kevin Day? Some sort of public reckoning? Ex Ravens coming out and telling the media what really went down in the Nest and the role Kevin played in the hierarchy? How he was the prince, the future legend, the little god of Castle Evermore, as Nora said in the EC. How he was above the general abuse, the suffering all around him, how he only had to answer to the Master and the King, and he had long learned how to keep them calm and himself safe. And how, when it all came to a head, he used the memory of his old, dead friendship with Jean against him, guiltripped him into distracting the monster so that he could escape. How he left Jean to be tortured to death.

But I don’t think it’ll happen, because the shockwaves of that would be monumental for the sport, the hero falling from grace again. And having that happen in the last book of the series simply can’t do it justice. If it did happen though, that would be the narrative holding Kevin accountable.

The alternative would be Kevin himself calling a press conference, of his own volition, and admitting to all of this. That would be a great way to take accountability: acknowledge what happened, what role you played in it, how fucked up it was. That would be Kevin holding himself accountable.

But that’s never going to happen either.

Because that would destroy his ego, and as you said, that might be the only thing he has left.

He is Kevin Day the Son of Exy, the future of the sport, a legend in the making, the hero that led the Foxes to win the Championship against the Ravens, the martyr that sacrificed his childhood for a chance to be Court one day… and he can’t be seen as anything else. It might kill him.

Waymack is possibly the only person with a concrete chance to get through to Kevin, to make him fully realize how much of an insensitive asshole he is to everyone around him and how that’s not fucking ok. But Waymack loves Kevin too much, like he loves all of his Foxes too much. He might give them advice, nudge them in the right direction, but I don’t think he’ll ever directly challenge them. Maybe some of the Foxes. But with someone like Kevin (or Andrew) it would go sideways really fast. Better to just let them do their thing and keep the peace. He lets the Foxes drink and fuck around with court-mandated meds, he provides Kevin with alcohol to use as an emotional crutch. It’s honestly a small miracle how none of the Foxes have died because of their own actions (Seth included since we all know he was murdered). David Waymack is a great character, but I’m not sure he’s a great coach lol until Neil showed up, the Foxes were an absolute dumpster fire. Neil had to meddle, get in everyone’s business to get them to cooperate. But we all know such behavior is “above pay grade” for Coach. So I don’t think that’s a possibility.

Besides, the Foxes’ story is over. This is Jean’s story. Any type of reckoning for Kevin must come from his side, Jeremy’s side, the Trojan’s side. And I don’t think it’ll happen.

It’d be nice to see Jeremy, Captain Sunshine of all people, call Kevin a bastard, because we know how much Kevin cares about his opinion. But idk that seems unrealistic. And it would sound too much like Jeremy fighting Jean’s battles for him, which I don’t like.

Kevin will never truly heal, he will always be a Raven. Like Thea will always be a Raven. They are the worst possible thing for each other. But at the same time, they can’t be with anyone else. Thea will never let Kevin heal and recover from being a Raven, but she is also the only person Kevin can be with.

From the EC we know that for Kevin the grueling practices, the 16h days, the abuse, the torture Jean suffered, were all part of the deal. He accepted those conditions because in return he would get the Perfect Court. And all the Ravens (Thea) believe the same.

But his hand was not part of the deal. That’s the one and only thing that made Kevin want to leave.

Had that not happened, he and Thea would almost be the exact same person, Raven apologists through and through, callous, condescending, solely focused on Exy to the point that if someone gets hurt, their first and only thought is “When can they play again?”

And if you don’t like it, that’s your problem.

So the best possible thing we can do going into the next book is to expect absolutely nothing lol

I hope this made sense, anon. To me it looks like a whole lot of rambling nothing, but maybe you can make some sense of it 🤦🏾‍♀️

[minyoongisnewthing]

Han River Lullaby (Teaser) | myg

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader

Teaser warnings : A touch of angst, MC is a guilt ridden wreck, i feel like blond Namjoon should be his own warning!!

Authors notes: Like MC this author is a mess! but of nerves, this is the first time in a long time I’m writing again. Let alone feeling like it’s good enough to share, but once this thought entered my head it stuck until i had to get it out. Please enjoy this teaser I’m putting up to even gauge if there would be an audience for my writing, and this story feel free to drop your feedback in the comments/inbox thank you for reading in advance.

teaser word count: 586

The soft hum of conversations and the clinking of coffee cups filled the air as you sat by the window of a cozy café in Seoul, your hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. Across from you, your three-year-old son, Han, played with the edge of his muffin wrapper, his tiny fingers tugging at the paper as he pouted in concentration. His dark, expressive eyes—so much like his father’s—reflected the afternoon light, and for a moment, your chest tightened with the weight of memory.

Yoongi.

The name still lingered in your mind like a bittersweet melody, one that had played over and over again since the day you left.

It had been the hardest goodbye of your life. The night before your flight back to Y/H/C, you had stood in Yoongi’s small apartment, his touch warm yet hesitant, as if he didn’t want to let you go. His career was just beginning to take off, and your studies had come to an end. There was no place for a “you and him” in the whirlwind that followed. You had tried—really tried—to stay in touch, but with each missed call and unanswered message, the distance between you stretched until the connection eventually faded into nothing.

Not because you wanted it to.

Not because he did.

But because life had a cruel way of pulling people apart.

And now, years later, you were back in South Korea, working as a doctor at ASAN, raising your son, and navigating a life you never imagined you’d be living alone.

“Y/N…?”

The sound of your name made you tense. The voice—deep and familiar—sent a wave of unease down your spine.

You turned, your breath catching slightly.

“Namjoon!” You exclaim 

He looked different from the last time you saw him, yet still entirely himself. His platinum-blond hair was slightly tousled, a striking contrast to his deep brown eyes that flickered with a mixture of warmth and surprise. A simple earring caught the light as he tilted his head, his sharp features set in an expression of disbelief. He wore a cream-colored jacket over a hoodie, casual yet effortlessly put together—though there was something almost hesitant in the way he stood, as if unsure of how to approach you after all this time.

His face lit up with a mixture of shock and warmth as he pulled you into a brief hug.

“Wow,” he said, stepping back to take a better look at you. “I can’t believe it’s really you. How have you been?”

You offered a small smile, settling back into your seat. “I’ve been good. Busy. I moved back here recently—working as a doctor now.”

Namjoon nodded, listening intently as you spoke, but before you could continue, small arms wrapped around your leg.

“Eomma, I’m hungry.”

Han’s sleepy eyes blinked up at you before he noticed Namjoon, his tiny body stiffening as he clung to you shyly.

You reached for the muffin you had bought earlier, unwrapping it carefully before handing it to him. But as you did, you saw it—the exact moment Namjoon pieced it together.

The way his gaze flickered between Han and you.

The way his easygoing expression shifted into something unreadable.

The way his eyes darkened with realization.

“Yoongi-hyung… he doesn’t know, does he?”

His voice was quieter this time, laced with something cold—something close to disbelief.

Your hands stilled for a moment.

You knew this moment would come eventually. But you still weren’t prepared.

Lowering your gaze, you shook your head. “No.”

“He doesn’t.”