#I have to design more characters for this one day

[bluzebub19]

I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

[ellevandersneed]

not close match actually like mine is at best like a sort of reactionary frustration towards being told i'd fit into a job that I was sold on as being a form of "job theft from 'real artists'" but explicitly for an entertainment complex that could very well be described as evil, or at least a monument to imperial core hubris as it attempts to circumvent employment costs in favor of faster and faster content output, but forgetting that imperial core morality around selective labor rights will call you out instantly if you try to do that to middle class desk-job Usian citizens (especially to the idolized but still feverishly exploited "artist" class) and not outsourcing your labor extraction methods to the global south like a good little imperial company. like forget the argument around copyright and "real art" for a second or even if the technology itself is somehow morally bad to use for any purpose whatsoever but instead think of the ways in which it is applied for the sake of consolidating wealth away from a shrinking middle class whose material benefits slowly disintegrate into token concessions of cheaply made electronic devices sourced from global south labor + materials and immediate access to global foodstuffs which themselves have been sourced through neo-colonialist enforced slave labor, (iphones, chocolate, & bananas), while their wealth is siphoned further into the hands bourgeois or even petit-bourgeois businessmen who have found "shortcuts and loopholes" in the latest several decades of technological shift where they can climb higher in the ranks of a class segregated society, the remaining middle class existing as a promised pious future for working class imperial citizens while the working class are sold as the object that threatens the middle class if they deviate from the capitalist program ("this is what YOU will become"). I had been asked to capitulate to capitalist hunger but like the luddites before me I smashed the machine and buried my head in the bosom of a hypothetical, fetishized guild of workers, of petit-bourgeois artisans who themselves are only class conscious insomuch as they fear their own dissolution and subjugation into the lower working class much like any petit-bourgeois minded individual. My next step would have been to market some kind of plushie of an original character made through sweatshop labor disguised as "ethically sourced" so that I may withstand the ever increasing demands of the imperial landlord class of parasites, as just another functionary in the capitalist machine, taking care of myself and no one else. I was right to be disgusted by Mr. Beasts offer but for misguided, reactionary reasons, though I was halfway then to where I am now and I am halfway now to where I will be as I keep learning more about the world. Apologies if any of this is a poor reading. Your case is that you've been offered, as an alternative to the capitalist rat-race that is designed to kill you if you are not economically useful (or in a position of economic protection, bourgeois), to join the cushy militant arm of the bourgeois class, where you get to shoot at underage protestors in exchange for all the creature comforts of a nice imperial petit-bourgeois lifestyle (iphone, chocolate, and bananas... maybe even the chance to escape from the demands of the landlord class and potentially one day join their ranks?). I think you should be fucking outraged. My anger is susceptible to reactionary thought, but you are being bribed in the most blatant fashion. LinkedIn is actually the worst website on planet earth

this might be one of the worst things anyones ever said to me

[adieutristana]

Hiiii, i have request for a fem r x jinx, so like r and jinx have known each other alll their lives, maybe r is like sevika's niece or smth close, then when jinx gets adopted by silco, they ontinue to grow close until they become lovers, now you can do whatever you want here, just req that somehow r gets seperated with jinx and joins ekko and the professor breaking into the lab, which led to r joining then in the alt uni, the same time as ekko or maybe earlier, then au!jinx(she's alr r's gf in that au) suddenly gets worried or jealous cause ekko and r suddenly without any reason becomes close and starts spending time together, you can end it however u want, just give us a happy ending!! That's it rllyyy, thank you for reading this req, and it's ok if you can't do it, no pressureee

of course!! thank you for the request <3

this one is pretty long, sorry ^^; i just wanted to include everything and do your request justice

summary; sevika’s niece, jinx’s childhood best friend becomes jinx’s girlfriend. they get separated in the alternate universe, and powder grows jealous.

characters included; jinx, powder (act iii au), sevika (familial), ekko (platonic)

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers, idk if sevika has living relatives but we're making up a sibling for the story, mentions of death, arguing, mentions of drinking and smoking, jealous powder

men dni.

sevika has never been great with children. the day you were born, your small form writhing in her brother's arms as you cried, and cried, and cried, sevika didn't know what to do with herself. this was family. sevika was loyal to family. but she just... couldn't deal.

yet as you grew older, she grew used to it. whenever you went to auntie sev's, she pulled out whatever non-alcoholic drink she had for you, pouring it in a stained glass and sitting down opposite you at her table. she'd teach you to play card games- ones appropriate for children, of course. war, go fish, the like. nothing like the blackjack or poker that gave her a thrill under dim lights, but it was honestly... nice, to have this company. even if you were small and still struggling to speak for yourself.

she found herself growing comfortable with you. she had always loved you, had always cared for you. you were her niece. but the fact that you were still learning to navigate the world, learning how to be a person, scared sevika- especially considering the state of the undercity. how was a child supposed to thrive in such a troubled city? how were sevika and her brother supposed to protect you from the harm that inevitably comes everyone's way?

and then, you found a friend. a little girl, no more than a few months older than you, with turquoise hair and warm, sky-blue eyes. powder was her name. a playful, friendly girl who would play tag with you in the alleyways of the lanes. she showed you all of her contraptions, little bombs with scribbled drawings of various animals for faces. handmade. your young mind found this incredible. how could one girl have this much talent?

each day, after your lessons, you'd go to a specific place close to a boarded up, abandoned home in the outskirts of zaun. it became yours and your friend's designated spot. a spot where powder would train, punching and kicking at the air with a wide grin, you sitting and observing. a spot where she’d sit down and whistle her favorite songs painfully out of tune. a spot where you shared secrets, talked about her adventures with her siblings, and you shared your frustrations about stupid homework. you'd brag about how cool your auntie sevika was.

"she's just so strong! and she can fight off anyone. she plays games with me, and she helps me with my reading work. even if it's hard."

powder's eyes would widen, and she'd nod enthusiastically.

"really? she sounds awesome! maybe i'll get to fight like her one day..."

"why can't you?"

and then powder would grumble, her eyes flickering down as she folded her hands in her lap.

"my sister doesn't think i'm ready. she says i'm not experienced enough."

she makes air quotes when she says 'experienced enough,' huffing and rolling her eyes. you'd reach out to squeeze her shoulder, trying to give any kind of comfort. you weren't the best at offering consolation, but you could at least do this for her.

when powder came to that same spot a mere few weeks later, she was bursting at the seams with excitement. she couldn't stay still, and as soon as the girl saw you, she bolted in your direction. throwing her arms around you and squealing. you were confused- but powder was clearly happy, possibly the happiest you'd ever seen her. so you wrapped your arms around her in return. she pulled her face back, blue eyes sparkling.

"vi finally said i'm ready. i'm going on a job, tomorrow! topside! it's gonna be a good one."

powder was positively beaming, and you could only smile. you tried to find the words for a moment, although you were ecstatic for her.

"really? that's awesome!"

"mhm! she said she's gonna take me with the others, and i can help!"

powder heard violet's voice calling for her from the end of the alley, seemingly having searched for her. she looked back at you.

"i'll see you soon, okay?"

then, radio silence.

you visited your usual spot a few times after that, your heart wrenching in your chest upon seeing the spot powder usually occupied empty. you had heard rumors swirling around of powder being caught after her job, her sister growing angry. yet, you didn't want to believe it. powder was your best friend, she was amazing! there was nothing the girl couldn't do.

but it was true. your best friend, powder, didn't pull it off. an arrest. an explosion. what caused it? what happened to powder?

it was driving your mind wild, pulling you in different directions and eating at your insides. you asked around, other children of zaun, but each one ignored you, shook their head, shrugged, muttered a quiet 'i don't know.' it was killing you.

that was, until the next time you visited your aunt. you sat down at her dining table, cheap leather peeling off of the seat. uneven legs, heightening your fear of toppling over any time you shifted. sevika brewed coffee instead of lighting her usual cigar, her back turned to you as she slowly moved through the kitchen.

"hey, aunt sev?"

you asked, voice unsure. shaking.

"huh?"

she responded, her back still turned to you.

"you know my friend, powder. you've met her, haven't you?" you saw sevika pause, leaning over to brace her hands on the edge of the counter. "she's kinda... missing. do you know what happened?"

"i do."

she responded, tone blunt with a sharp edge. you winced at this, you knew just how scary your aunt could be if provoked. but you cared too much for powder, this was too important-

"she's with silco and i. he took her in. she's a problem."

"a problem?"

your heart sunk in your chest. god, how could your best friend be a problem?

"yes. she's distracting silco, but he insists that she'll be an asset."

"please, sev, tell me m-"

the woman turned her back and slammed an empty mug onto the table.

"i'm not talking about this anymore."

✧.*

the day after your seventeenth birthday was when you found powder- ‘jinx,’ they now called her. a dark alleyway in the outermost of zaun, not far off from your spot just a few years prior. you’d begun taking morning walks to clear your head of all the bullshit that came with being a young girl in the middle of a troubled city- one with a close relative who worked for silco of all people. to get the swirling anxiety, political unrest, friends disappearing left and right, all of it- out of your damn mind.

you’d experimented with walking routes, going through the lanes, through some of the highest roads in zaun, but none were quite as… peaceful as the outskirts. much more nature, less people, more tranquil than any other area. your head hung low, hands in your pocket, gaze on the ground. whistling.

you would recognize that sound anywhere. the same song powder used to always whistle, you heard it again. the tone was a bit deeper, a bit more raspy, but god, it had to be her. your head shot up, eyes darting around for the source of the song. busted windows, trash cans… blue braids.

your feet moved quicker than your mind could. you ran to the girl, breathless, throwing your arms around her.

and then she pushed you off of her, your back hitting the ground.

“powder- powder, what the fuck?! you don’t remember me?”

she stood over you, breath heaving, blue eyes boring directly through you. searching for any sign of danger or betrayal, studying your features…

“oh. oh.”

“powder, please-”

the girl yanked you up by your shoulders and got onto her knees, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. long nails dug into the fabric of your top.

“it’s jinx now.”

oh. oh god. you’d heard that name before. the name of a master criminal in the making, under the watchful eye of silco. his prodégé, his daughter. she had been powder, this entire time? under your nose for years, and you had no idea?

you wrapped your arms back around her, tentative, so scared to break her. the way she flinched told you all you needed to know.

“po-jinx, it’s okay… you’re okay…”

she only held you, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"a lot has changed."

"i know. but it's okay." you pause. "are you busy?"

jinx has her hands resting on your shoulders, pulling back the same way that she did the day before her job.

"no... no, not right now. why?"

the corner of your lips tug into a gentle smile.

"we have some catching up to do."

✧.*

the first thing jinx did was drag you around her newfound hideout. slim floors of metal with a seemingly endless drop below them, and a lack of railings. anxiety peaked as you walked through her home, but it was... charming. black lights paired with bright, colorful graffiti enhancing each surface. her face lit up as she showed you each of her handmade weapons.

you remembered the young powder with a single braid and defected color bombs, but these..? these were fully functioning explosives and assault weapons. god, where did she learn to do this?

"hey, whatcha thinking about?"

you're pulled out of your thoughts by one of jinx's fingers poking at your forehead. her blue eyes fixed on you...

"nothing. just... this is different."

jinx swings a leg over her seat at her workbench, picking up... a blowtorch?

"well, yeah. i told you things changed."

she quips, so nonchalant. how could she be so calm about her new lifestyle? it was such a drastic change, yet you couldn't help but... admire it. the environment surrounding you was a direct reflection of the person your friend had become. pilties feared her, zaunites revered her. to be able to make such a name for herself and have the unwavering sense of justice jinx had at such a young age was incredible to you.

god, jinx. she had really been staring you in the face for all of these years.

"tell me more.”

you said, slowly settling down beside her, bracing your elbows on the cold metal.

“oh, where to start?” she grinned. “well, right now i’m doing a lot in the way of enforcers and firelights. inventing, and all that. blowing stuff up.”

she giggled, not looking at you for a second. her thin hands held one of the very blue crystals a young powder held as if a precious amulet.

“and what about silco?”

“silco? he’s great! he’s always believed in me, said i’m smart and i can do whatever i put my mind to. he thinks i’m perfect.”

she hums, continuing to tinker away. your heart sinks the slightest bit. although silco was definitely a symbol of the undercity, he was feared. it just didn’t sit right with you. for him to have somebody like jinx in his grasp was frightening, but if she turned out relatively okay in the end, it was fine… right?

“oh, and sevika’s an ass.”

“my aunt?”

jinx turns to you suddenly, lifting her goggles off her face.

“since when is sevika your aunt?”

“…since i was born?”

you reply, raising an eyebrow… the same way sevika does with jinx. she folds over in a fit of laughter, her forehead on the workbench-

“oh, oh gods! that’s too good. how did i not know?”

✧.*

october 10.

jinx’s birthday.

jinx’s eighteenth birthday.

being slightly younger than her, you didn’t know exactly what was appropriate for an eighteenth birthday celebration. you were never good at birthdays to begin with. but you had to think, think. this is for jinx.

you’d grown accustomed to her new lifestyle, the mischief that followed her everywhere she went. whether she always found trouble or trouble always found her, you were unsure, but one thing was for certain: she had grown into one of the most badass women you’ve ever met. becoming close with her again, stepping into her shoes and experiencing a taste of jinx’s world, it was almost as if nothing had changed. in terms of your friendship, at least. she would still talk about her sister (although their relationship was less than ideal now), show you her contraptions, and whistle her favorite songs.

except for when you noticed your affections for jinx becoming something more than what was appropriate for friends.

curse you, curse you for falling for your childhood best friend. that was what you kept telling yourself. how could you fall for someone you had considered your best friend for so long? the thought of losing jinx again over something as trivial as a crush made your heart ache.

so you repressed it.

you repressed the way that your heart skipped a beat when she inched closer to you on her workbench.

you repressed the way her smile brought a swarm of butterflies to your stomach.

you repressed the way you wished to call her late at night just to hear her voice.

you repressed the way those blue eyes could make you give in to anything.

but that’s not important. no. what’s important is decorating jinx’s hideout while she’s out on a job for her birthday and throwing together a cake. pink and blue banners, big balloons with the number ‘18,’ crude paper-mache iterations of her monkey bombs, and making a gift.

you were hunched over your desk for hours trying to make her a charm bracelet, representative of your history. scrap metal from crushed cans, pliers, discarded chains, and acrylic paint could take you further than you expected. a mouse, for mouser. a blue ball, for her crystals. a can of spray paint. a bomb. a monkey. all little charms representative of what made jinx jinx.

did you burn yourself? yes. did you have to bandage yourself from getting cut by thin metal? also yes. but it was for her.

and a card. you decided in the days leading up to jinx’s birthday that you had to tell her somehow how you felt. it was eating up at you from the inside out.

when jinx arrived to her hideout, kicking the door open, it took a moment for her to notice that anything was different. somehow the streamers, candles, and smell of cake didn’t give it away, but she quickly strode over to you with the same jump in her step as always.

“heya t-”

and she finally noticed. glancing around at the handmade decorations on her workbench and the balloons, the pink and blue icing on her cake…

“oh. oh wow.”

she chuckled, in mild disbelief.

“wow, all of this for little ol’ me?”

you nodded, body tense with anticipation and anxiety. you knew the second she opened that card, everything would change. she sighed in that playful way she always did, and put her hands on her hips.

“okay. where to start?”

she glanced over the workbench. the cake, card, and small wrapped gift.

“well, it’s only right to start with the card.”

she sat down, and unceremoniously began tearing the envelope open at the top with her fingernails. not even using the flap in the back. you should’ve expected as much. she finally gets through to the card and looks at the front- a drawing of the two of you sat side by side.

“oh, this is cute!”

she beamed, and eagerly flipped the card open, and that’s when you saw blue eyes beginning to scan over the words inside.

“powder, rather jinx, i’m sorry that this is so sudden. eighteen is a big feat. you’re grown! and i’m proud of everything you’ve done. all the progress you’ve made for zaun, and all of the things you’ve come over. you’re a strong, smart, wonderful girl. but i need you to know that i’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and i can’t keep ignoring them. meeting you again and getting to know the person you’ve become has been one of the best experiences of my life. i wish i could spend those days alongside you as your girlfriend.

if you want to throw this card away and forget about it, i won’t be mad. just think about what i said.

-your best friend.”

her eyes scanned over the paper. again, and again, and again. did she really have to read it so many times? her brows furrowed, then raised, then furrowed again, before she glanced up at you.

“you… mean this?”

you let out a shaky breath.

“of course i mean it, jinx.”

you then felt thin, yet strong arms thrown around you and a head buried into your chest.

“i thought i was crazy…”

she murmurs, voice muffled by the thick fabric of your top. her tone is softer than usual, a side of her you’ve grown to realize is reserved for you only.

“crazy how?”

“crazy because i feel the same way.”

did the world stop?

was time hanging over your head?

“oh, god- jinx, you’re serious?”

you laughed, returning her embrace with tears pricking at your eyes. she squeezed you even tighter to her, beginning to pepper little kisses all over your face- no doubt leaving stains in their wake.

“ah! you still have a gift to open, jinx!”

you were mockingly protesting. in truth, you felt like you were floating.

“don’t care!”

✧.*

shortly after jinx’s own, your nineteenth birthday came and passed with jinx clinging to your arm. a day of being dragged through zaun tagging walls together, your girlfriend presenting you with a barely-edible cake, and rushed kisses on her couch.

which sevika walked in on.

regardless, you woke up to the sound of jinx’s deep breathing, close to your ear. still sleeping, her ear right up against the left side of your chest. you’d noticed she liked listening to your heartbeat, especially during late nights together. the first and only time you asked about it, she just said, ‘it’s relaxing.’ if anything could relax jinx, you’d do it.

you couldn’t move, not yet. you could only look down at the sleeping girl on top of you, snoring like an old man. if it were anybody else, you’d have stopped sharing a bed a long time ago. but jinx was kind of… endearing.

“mm… what time is it, toots?”

you heard her grumble.

“uh…” you moved your wrist from under her to glance at your wristwatch. “11:20.”

“ugh… it’s too early.”

“too early?”

“yes! i need to sleep more… five more minutes.”

one of jinx’s classic lies. but you let her, regardless, because who were you to deny a little longer of the girl you loved clinging to you? your free hand came to her lower back, your thumb rubbing gentle circles over soft skin.

“okay. then while you’re here, i need to tell you something.”

“mm… go ‘head.”

there was no easy way to put this, but you had to spit it out.

"i'm going to topside later. going to jayce's lab with ekko and the professor. they said there was something... important i needed to see. something about hextech."

with this, jinx's eyes fluttered open, looking up at you. thick brows furrowed.

"why?"

"something about hextech."

you repeated yourself. she grumbled.

"why d'you have to be the one to do it?"

your eyes widened for a moment. damn. you weren't sure how to answer this question, exactly. why did it have to be you? clearly, jinx wasn't asked about it if this is the first time she's hearing about it. but you knew it was important enough if you, a relatively ordinary citizen of zaun were asked to accompany heimerdinger and his newest student.

"i... i don't know. but it's important enough. i'll be a few hours tops, okay? a few hours, then i'll come back and be right here when you're ready to sleep. we can be just like-"

you pointed to her head still laying directly over your heart,

"this, again tonight."

jinx grumbled, slowly pulling herself away from your chest, bringing herself to loom over you. unkempt blue braids on either side of your face, rosy eyes locked on yours.

"fine. but you better be back when you say you'll be."

you reached up to place your hands on pale cheeks, tracing your thumbs underneath her eyes, still heavy with sleep.

"i'll be back before you know it, baby. it'll be like i never even left."

✧.*

the lab. the lab.

that's the last place you can remember being before waking up with a gasp. you felt as if you got a punch directly to the stomach, body reeling with the aftershocks of... something. all you could do was heave, pant, use your hands to brace yourself against a... bedside table? desperately trying to find some kind of support.

you slowly gain your composure. your breath coming to you in short gasps, as your eyes finally manage to scan your surroundings. a bedside table, a full-sized bed with blue sheets, a bookshelf with various travel guides and science textbooks scattered about. a corkboard on the wall, with photos of... you? and somebody else.

you stumble over the corkboard, slowly lifting your gaze. photo strips from photo booths hang on the board, as well as post-it notes with scribbled drawings. the pictures are of you, and a girl. a girl who, upon closer inspection, looks almost exactly like jinx. but not quite. her eyes didn't have those bags you'd grown accustomed to, and her face seemed fuller. she had a wide grin or silly expression plastered onto her face in almost every picture. the jinx you knew hated her picture being taken.

this girl's hair also was chopped to her shoulders. jinx kept her hair so long she had learned how to not trip over it. a gentle breeze sweeps the room, and the air is... more clear. not as overwhelming as the usual pollution of zaun. you think you can manage a deep breath in without feeling any side effects.

"there you are, silly!"

you hear from behind you. you snap your head over your shoulder with a gasp, and it's the girl from the pictures. oh, god.

she sets down a box on the bed, a few bolts spilling out from the cushion of the mattress.

"heh, whoops."

she chuckles, placing both hands on her hips. she really does look exactly like jinx. blue hair strung up into messy space buns and a little pink streak. that's new. you glance around at the room once again, noticing the corkboard. a drawing of you and the girl on a yellow post-it, with "POWDER" scribbled beneath it.

powder?

"what... what is this?"

you manage to breathe out. the girl- powder, strides over to you and wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind.

"only materials for my next big project! i told you about this. remember?"

she giggles, voice playing directly next to your ear. a chaste kiss to your cheek and a bubbly girl holding you. you raise an eyebrow, looking back at her. your shoulders tense, eyes blown wide. how could this have happened? didn't powder adopt the identity of jinx after that job?

"this is what happens when you pull a double two days in a row. i know you need the extra time, babe, but you're exhausted."

powder pinches your cheek between her forefinger and thumb. that same playful smile unwavering.

"come on, we've still got a lot to do today. we're talking some stuff over with benzo, remember?"

benzo? the benzo whose corpse you saw?

"i... okay. just give me a minute to freshen up."

you make your way down the hall to a bathroom. this place was set up like a goddamned labyrinth, but you managed. you look at yourself in the mirror.. your clothes seemed nicer. more tailor-fit. your skin was more clear, almost no blemishes or scars. your hair was a bit longer, you still had split ends- guess you could never be bothered to trim those in any world. but... this was different. you huff, deciding to cut your losses and just go to this meeting you apparently had planned.

as soon as you arrive to the last drop, it's like being flashbanged. your eyes widen at how much more bright the place seems. new booths and tables, it seems as if it's been recently renovated for the sake of modernity. and then you noticed vander.

you knew how much vander's loss affected jinx. she talked fondly of him often, but you could tell the fact that he was no longer here was killing jinx, no matter how much time had passed since that day. yet, here he was in the flesh, chatting away with a customer behind the bar as if nothing had happened. had anything happened?

"oh, oh my god. you're here. do you know what happened?"

your body jutted forward and you snapped your head around, your first instinct being to shove whoever was behind you. but you didn't thankfully. ekko.

"you're here too? shit, i don't know, i just- i woke up, and i was here, and everything's different, and everyone is acting different."

you muttered, beginning to pace around. the boy in front of you seemed stunned, shaking his head in disbelief.

"you don't know anything?"

"i'm just as confused as you are, ekko."

"sorry! ran a little late. you know how the streets get this time of day."

you heard from behind you, powder carrying a brown messenger bag.

"...jinx?"

powder just quirked an eyebrow, one of her signature confused expressions. she shakes her head, brushing off the fact and makes her way toward the bar. benzo's sat on one of the stools, waiting.

you shoot a glance in ekko's direction, mouthing 'sorry.'

✧.*

the second the meeting is over, you grab ekko by the arm and pull him into an alleyway behind the last drop. you sigh, letting his arm go, and he's visibly peeved.

"what the hell?!"

"i'm sorry, ekko, i just... this is all so weird. apparently powder never became jinx, and benzo is alive, and so are vander and silco and things just seem so... nice. i keep telling myself it isn't real, but i'm not waking up from whatever the fuck this is."

ekko looks down, his hand pressing into the spot below his eyebrows. he shakes his head.

"i talked to heimerdinger earlier. he said this is some kind of parallel universe. no hextech, so there's not a good chance of us getting back."

you swore you could've felt your stomach drop. oh no.

"how is there no hextech? are you serious?"

"i wouldn't lie about this."

"fuck. fuck."

you're tangling your hands in your hair, once again finding yourself pacing back and forth. the alleyway is clear aside from a few palettes and trash cans, yourself and ekko being the only occupying presence.

"we're trying to figure something out, together. but it's going to take a while."

your feet still, and you take a deep breath in. your lips press into a thin line. you don't exactly have it in you to be patient right now, but did you have another option?

"shit. okay. it's not like i've got any better ideas."

ekko sighs, his shoulders dropping. you glance over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an effort to reassure him.

"i'll try and think of something, too. just keep me updated, okay?"

ekko gives you a small grin and nods.

"i will. it'll be alright- let's hope, at least."

your eyes wander over to the last drop's back door, and it's cracked open, with powder looking out.

shit. how long has she been there?

you walked to your apartment side-by-side with powder, but she seemed so... tense. she didn't look at you much during the walk back, which made you a bit fearful. she was so chipper just an hour or two ago, what happened?

you swung open the door after taking a few tries to find the correct key, something powder also noticed. thankfully, she didn't mention it, or you'd have a difficult time explaining.

you stepped in, taking off your jacket and dropping it on the arm of a leather couch. one that wasn't peeling.

"so, when did you and ekko get so close again?"

she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. this may not be jinx, but she has the same facial expressions. she thinks you're hiding something.

"huh? we've always been friends."

"you guys fell out two weeks ago and you swore you'd never talk to him again."

oh shit.

"you don't remember? i mean... i guess it makes sense, i thought it was just a misunderstanding. you're usually the one to talk things out."

huh? you and ekko were never particularly close, but you'd never had a falling out. shit, everything really was different here.

"yeah... uh, yeah. we made up."

you say, hoping to whatever was out there that she wouldn't catch onto the fact you didn't have a damn clue what she was talking about.

"huh."

she huffs, clearly unconvinced.

"what, powder? come on, you've gotta talk to me."

"ugh- that doesn't explain why you were touching him like that!"

she snaps, her voice raising, yet not quite yelling. the look in her eyes, she looks as if she's genuinely been betrayed.

"i.. what? i was touching his shoulder, powder."

"yeah, and yesterday you were resting against it. what next, you'll be kissing his neck?"

were you really? god dammit, you had no way of knowing what this other version of you was doing before-

"no! powder, no. i... i'm sorry. but you have to believe me, we're friends. we were discussing something important to us."

she rolls her eyes, tapping her foot against the ground.

"come on. i respect your privacy, i trust you to not cheat, but you've got to ease up on him. rather, he has to ease up on you."

"powder, nothing's happening."

she sighs, her head hanging down in defeat.

"you promise?"

"i promise you."

powder slowly steps closer to you, shaky hands slowly coming to cup both of your cheeks.

"i just don't want anything to happen between us, okay? things are good."

"they are. but nothing will happen."

as... unfamiliar as this is, this version of powder, this supposed life of yours, you couldn't deny that it was welcoming. in some ways, it was a lot better than the world you came from. the overrun streets of zaun, the political unrest of piltover, thousands addicted to shimmer and more friends dead than alive. you could get used to this, but you wouldn't.

you suppose it wouldn't be so bad to indulge yourself until ekko figured something out, though.

"hey. you still like wearing braids in your hair, don't you?"

powder hums, pursing her lips.

"uh... i haven't worn one since i was a kid, but sure."

you sigh, and gently take both of her hands in yours.

"come on. i'll do some twin braids on you, braid pink ribbon into your hair. does that sound alright?"

powder seems to perk up at this, blue eyes going wide.

"ribbons?"

"yeah. you've got that pink streak going on."

"oh... okay. sure. knock yourself out."

she squeezes your hands, smiling.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞

★ synopsis: workaholic marine biologist discovers a new species that was only believed to exist within stories. while heavily focused on her new groundbreaking research, she tries to figure out her feelings for her shiny new toy.

★ character: rafayel

★ cw: first-person pov, merman rafayel, a bit of angst towards the end but nothing too crazy

★ word count: 3.7k

★ a/n: as a former marine bio major, i got to nerd out ab fish and raf (yay!!), set in main storyline era, but reader is obviously a biologist and not a hunter (raf is also not the sea god in this). tried to stick to lemurian lore, but kinda threw my own stuff in too. sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed, i lowkey tapped out, but overall i'm pretty proud of this!!

It was moments like these that made me love what I do.

I was in the pool room of the facility, a dome with towering window walls, and a large circular pool in the middle that connected to the sea outside. It was mainly used by me, and I was fortunate enough to be the only one with access, as I was the only field expert in the facility. I worked hands-on with marine life, collecting samples that I would send to the lab upstairs.

In the early mornings like these, I could finally just take a breath before starting my day and watch the sunrise all around me. Watch the way it would slowly illuminate the room, reflecting off the water that rippled with the morning wind. I could feel the weight lift off my shoulders because sunny, clear mornings like this made the stress of work worthwhile.

Not that I’d rather be anywhere else.

I checked the pool, seeing what creature may have found its way in. To my dismay, it was just another handful of mackerel that had probably gotten lost from its school. That’s all it’s been lately, a few strays from the euphotic zone. The bottom of the pool was an open hatch leveled with the sea, since the lowest level of the facility sat directly in the water. When motion was detected, the floor of the pool would close off, trapping whatever got caught inside. If I were lucky, maybe it would be a cute sea turtle or a shark, but those days were rare.

Disgruntled, I opened the hatch that had closed, setting the mackerel free. Inwardly I prepared for another boring afternoon, praying for another field work day when I could actually go out to sea.

-

Coming back from grabbing coffee from the breakroom and a few more test tubes from the lab upstairs, I made my way back to the pool room. From inside, I heard a loud groaning.

“OWWWW.”

Frantically I key carded my way into the room, the doors sliding open to reveal a strange man in the pool.

I stood frozen in place, not sure what free diver could have possibly found his way in, and… Why was he shirtless?

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?” The man glared.

I learned from years of working in the sea to stay calm and assert dominance, so striding forward with as much grace as I could muster-

My jaw dropped.

The man had odd markings painted on his skin and face, in intricate beautiful designs. He was clad in golden jewelry, draped with a chiffon sash. Despite being fresh out of the water, his dusty purple hair was nearly dry, and I was sure he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. There was something otherworldly about him, not like anyone I had seen before.

That was when I noticed the tail.

It was amazing, and I screeched with joy. The iridescent blue scales matched the ones on his cheeks and neck, and it had to be as long as I was tall.

The man leaned against the bars on the pool, narrowing his eyes at me. “Your stupid machine hurt me.”

I stared at him laughing with excitement, “What are you?”

“Did you hear me? I said I was hurt.”

My eyes traveled over him, he didn’t appear to be hurt or even in much pain. He held out his hand, adorned with gold bangles and painted nails, “It pinched my finger.”

I shook my head, “Sorry, sometimes it malfunctions. It’s supposed to have a safety mechanism so fish can’t get caught in the doors.”

“Yes, well, you need to fix it.”

Whatever this man was, he had an attitude problem.

“I’m going back to my first question,” I circled the pool like a predator with its prey. The man-fish thing followed me with his eyes, and I stopped back in front of him. “What the hell are you?”

He rolled his eyes, “I think that’s quite obvious. I know humans aren’t that stupid.”

Stunned, I continued to stare at him. Of course I knew what a mermaid was, everyone always told stories of the ancient Lemurians, but that’s all it was. A story.

Yet, here in front of me, was a man with a fish tail.

Excitement continued to bubble up inside me and I started clapping my hands with glee, “Oh my gosh this is perfect. You’re perfect.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, “If I’m so perfect can we get rid of these prison walls? What are these even for anyways-” As he started to rattle on the bars.

“They’re so the fish can’t beach themselves when I’m not here,” Opening the gate so I could sink down to his level, I took off my shoes so I could sit on the ledge. Grabbing his face in my hands, I turned it side to side, observing closely the glitter of his scales underneath my fingers, “Your skin is so cold, yet you have hair…But you have scales… Are you a mammal, or…”

He smirked at me, taking my grabby hands away from his skin, “Y’know you could at least take me out to dinner first.”

I frowned, bothered with the interruption of my observations. Standing back up, I moved away to start grabbing collection and testing kits, “Can you hop up where I was please? Or will you need assistance? I have a sling-”

“I can do it.”

Watching as he pulled himself up and out of the water, biceps flexing as he lifted himself, I wondered how a fish could possibly get that ripped.

I sat down beside him, “You have no obvious gills…”

The man scoffed, and I put on my stethoscope. I placed it over where, if he had them, his lungs would be.

“Deep breath in,” Watching as he took an inhale through his nose, and listened as his lungs took in a breath of air.

“Lungs.” Confirming my thoughts.

Placing the drum over his heart, I realized his heartbeat was racing.

“I don’t understand-” He started, before I placed my finger over his lips.

“Shush, no talking.”

We sat there like that for a minute, before I pulled away, “120/60, is your heart rate usually that fast?”

Glaring at me, he crossed his arms, “No, I just don’t usually have random girls assaulting me.”

As I pulled out different test tubes, I rambled out questions to him that were mostly just thoughts in my head.

“Where did you come from? How do you speak English? Where do you live?”

“First of all,” He shunned away at the sight of a needle, “my name is Rafayel. Since you haven’t even bothered to ask.”

“Secondly, I came from the sea, duh. Didn’t even mean to get caught in this stupid thing…” The man winced as I pricked his finger, and I laughed, “Well you sure are compliant for being ‘assaulted’ by a stranger.”

“I have no choice! You have all these weapons for poking and prodding! Anyways, I speak every language, it comes from being Lemurian-”

I stopped, “You’re Lemurian?”

He rolled his eyes, “I thought the tail would’ve given that away.”

Silently I continued to work, thinking less about the fact that a real Lemurian was in front of me, and more about how this would affect the studies of the sea and marine life as a whole. More than 80% of the sea is unexplored, and the idea of Lemuria being part of it opens up a whole new doorway to the future of research. Not only that, but the fact that Rafayel was relatively eager to comply.

He watched me with his galaxy colored eyes, that seemed almost as wide with wonder as mine were. We seemed fascinated with each other, and maybe that’s why he was so calm about all of this. It’s not every day you’d let a stranger go full blown crazy scientist on you.

“Am I going to learn anything about you?” His question startled me, and it hadn’t even crossed my mind he knew nothing about me. My only focus had been on discovering who and what this creature was.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s my bad.” I introduced myself, and told him about my work as a marine biologist. He let me gripe about the lack of interesting catches in the pool as of late, and how my passion lies with whales.

“I don’t get to go out into the field often,” I explained, “but when I do it’s always the best. Being able to dive, and being out at sea for a few weeks studying the bigger or deeper animals we can’t get in the pool.”

“What about when you’re here?” Rafayel looked around the room as if it was an interesting enough place to work. To him, this probably seemed more fun than exploring the place he’s lived his whole life.

I sighed, “I’m never not here; but I mean, it’s fine I guess, it’s just you can only collect so many samples of the same few creatures before you get bored.” Smiling at him, I ran my fingers through his hair…

“That’s why you, my dear, are my new muse.”

-

To my surprise, Rafayel came back after that. I half expected him to just disappear, deeming me crazy and warning his fellow Lemurians about ‘that one weird marine biologist’. I’d kiss goodbye the breakthrough of research he could’ve given me, and go back to slaving over the same boring fish every day.

The next morning, he was in the pool bright and early, his head sitting in his crossed arms on the ledge.

He smiled when he saw me waltz in, “You’re here early.”

“I always am,” I shrugged, “do Leumrians not sleep?”

“Sometimes.”

We quickly slipped into a routine. He’d show up in the early mornings, and stay with me until I went home that night. Even if I ran out of samples to collect, waiting for lab results, he’d perch himself up on the ledge with me and watch me read old textbooks about old Lemurian history, or anatomy books about different kinds of marine mammals.

Rafayel would snatch the Lemurian books out of my hands, “You know, I can tell you everything you need to know.”

“Yes, well, you’re an unreliable narrator.” I’d grab the book back.

Though he had a tendency to exaggerate, I really did enjoy all the stories he would tell me; his tail in my lap as I’d compare it to previous studies I had done on scales, he’d go on about Lemurian people, boasting about the beauty of the city and explaining their culture. I’d sit and nod, humming responses as I carefully analyzed him.

I believed Rafayel kept coming back because he simply loved being doted over. Some part of him got off on the attention, seeing the way my face would light up when I put pieces of the puzzle together, grabbing his face in my hands with excitement.

“Raf this is amazing news!” I’d laugh, squeezing his face with one hand, shaking lab results in the air with another.

“I don’t know what you’re on about…” He’d say through smushed cheeks, but his eyes would twinkle and defy his feigned annoyance.

Sometimes, if I ran out of things to do, he’d use his ‘magical Lemurian powers’ (his words, not mine) to lure in some different creatures, giving me extra stuff to send to the lab upstairs. One day I had been giving a bit too much attention to a stingray he had summoned, and Rafayel started sighing from the other side of the pool.

“What's wrong now?” I asked, not even looking up at him, focusing my attention on extracting the stringer from the stingray's tail.

He sighed loudly again.

This time, my eyes met his, and he flopped down onto his back, pouting dramatically. Once I had gathered everything I needed, and set the poor creature free, I walked over to where Rafayel was still laying on his back, displeased.

He looked up at me through his eyelashes, and quickly turned his head to the side, “If I’m your muse then why are you giving so much attention to these random fish!”

Crouching down by his head, I poked his cheek, “You’re the one who summons them for me.”

“Well if this is the case, then I’m not gonna help anymore!” Sticking out his lower lip, Rafayel side-eyed me.

“I’m ever so sorry for doing my job, I shall never give another fish attention again besides you.”

He smirked, satisfied with my response.

Rafayel was always like this, oddly infatuated with me and jealous. He seemed pleased I didn’t have much of a social life outside of work, as my only focus was him. Often, he had a habit of prying into my thoughts, asking a million questions about myself. Some were simple, like where I went to school and what kind of music I enjoyed. Others were questions I never even thought about.

“How do you see your future?”

I snapped my head up from my book to look at him, “I’m sorry?”

He stared right into my eyes, almost as if he was trying to read my mind, “What do you see yourself doing in the future?”

“I don’t know, working probably.” I tried to shrug off the question.

“Do you ever want a family?”

“I don’t think I’d have time.”

“Well, you seem to have plenty of time for me.”

-

After that, I noticed a lot more how his eyes would follow me. How he’d rest his hand on my waist as I’d bandage him up from blood collection. The prolonged eye contact, the longing smiles, how his cheeks and ears would turn pink when I’d call him my muse.

To quote Rafayel simply, “Humans aren’t that stupid.”

I knew. I mean, I’m a scientist, I had a fair amount of common sense. Even though I spent most of my time with fish doesn’t mean I don’t know when a man likes me.

It’s not like I wasn’t attracted to him either, it would be impossible not to be. Rafayel is beautiful, just like the world that surrounds him; he’s the sea, the absolute personification of my first love. He’s spunky and brave, sassy yet kind, and despite my immediate joy about him regarding the future of marine research, it’s gone so far beyond that. My care for him has ascended past study and data, into a place I was scared to approach.

What was I supposed to do? Keep him in my bathtub for the rest of my life? A swimming pool in my backyard? This was work, this was business, this is the future; nothing is going to get in the way of that. Not my stupid feelings, nor his.

In the evening, before I was getting ready to go home, I was taking one final look at Rafayels scales on his face and neck.

“They’re so beautiful…” I muttered under my breath, inches away from his face. His scales were what fascinated me the most, despite it being the least interesting fact I had discovered about this humanoid. Somehow, a mammal having scales like this was utterly enchanting. Tracing the way they were engraved into his skin, he opened one of his eyes to look at me.

“Do you want one?” Rafayel asked.

“I wouldn’t want just one, I’d need enough to make a necklace.” Softly smiling, I playfully picked at one of them.

“Have I told you the Lemurian tradition of giving up one of our scales?”

“Mm, briefly…”

He tilted his head forward, as if he were telling me top secret information, “When we give one of our scales to someone, it bonds us for life. An eternal love that traverses through anything, whole universes.” Both eyes open now, the look in them told me I already had been given thousands of his scales.

I pushed his head back with one of my fingers, “You’re already bonded to me for life, at least until I can figure you out.”

Rafayel leaned towards me again, and I grabbed his face,

“Hold still.”

He frowned.

-

“Rafayel~” Walking into the pool room I sang out to him like usual, only to find the pool empty.

After nearly a year of seeing him every single day, for the first time, he was nowhere to be seen.

My heart sank, was it because I had rejected him?

I sat by the pool, filled with mackerel, and just waited…

And waited…

And waited…

I watched the sun begin to set through the large windows, covering the room in an orange glow. Rafayel always had a habit of complaining about the way the sun would shine in his eyes, but would quickly quiet down as he saw me stare out at the sea longingly; there was so much love in his eyes I thought it might suffocate him if he didn’t let it out.

I guess he finally had enough.

Tears threatened to pour as the sky turned dark, the room only lit up with the light of the moon.

Frustrated, I cursed him under my breath. How dare he ruin this for me? How could he let his own feelings get in the way of the bright future I had made for marine research? I wanted to hit him upside the head for giving me all of this information and data, just to up and leave, leaving my study on a cliffhanger.

How could he leave me?

The next day, for the first time in years, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to get out of bed. Let alone go to work. I hated him for making me feel this way, for breaking down my walls so much that I was ready to give up the only thing I had going for me.

I went anyway.

Walking up to the doors of the pool room, I thought about just turning around and going home. I was going to waste my time with a school of fish that I had already collected hundreds of samples from, when I could just go back to my bed and rot, grieving the future of science and my broken heart.

Just as I was about to turn on my heel and leave, I heard soft singing from inside, a voice I recognized easily.

Practically breaking the doors open, I ran inside.

Sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, reading a textbook as if nothing was wrong, was the man I wanted to strangle with my bare hands.

He looked up at me, frowning, “You’re late.”

Once the adrenaline of seeing him wore off, I noticed where he was.

Outside of the pool, in a chair, with no help, with…

“Legs!” I screeched, exasperated.

“Yeah, okay, good to see you too I guess.” Rafayel scoffed, going back to the book. This time it was my turn to snatch it out of his hands.

“Rafayel, this changes everything! All of my studies!” I put my face in my hands, shaking my head.

“That's what you have to say about this? I don’t show up to try and play hard to get, and this is what I get?” He glared at me, “You didn’t even miss me!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you could grow legs!”

“I was trying to humor you!”

I threw my hands up in desperation, pacing back and forth. Rafayel started mumbling something in a language I didn’t understand, clearly mad.

“Is that all I am to you?” He spit out at me, like his words were acid, “Some science experiment?” I shot my head in his direction, narrowing my eyes, “You know as well as I do that’s not the case.”

“If that's not the case, then why are you doing this to me? Acting like you care and there’s something here, then putting your walls back up. Am I just being manipulated for your work?” Rafayel stood up, peering down at me, “Just some testing animal that you keep here in your tank?”

“Raf…No…Of course not.” I promised, seeing the look of hurt in his eyes made my heart squeeze in guilt. Tracing the painted marking on his cheek, I noticed the scales on his face and neck were nowhere to be seen.

His demeanor quickly switched at my touch, grabbing my hands in desperation, pulling them to his chest and clutching my fingers over his heart.

“I don’t care.” Rafayel stated.

“What?”

“I don’t care what you do. You can have me for life; study me, use me, publish me for the world to see, I don’t care. I just want you in return.”

He fell to his knees, holding his hands tightly on my waist. Looking up at me with a pleading look in his eyes, Rafayel started muttering what I could only make out to be a Lumerian prayer I had read in one of the textbooks, “Please.” He cried.

“Rafayel, just stand up.”

“Please.” He repeated.

I stared down at him, “Raf-”

“Please, no, just say you want me. Say you’ll have me. Open this door, I know you’re scared, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Rafayel.”

“Put your trust in me. I’ll give you all my scales, my blood, my life, please, be mine, I’m already yours; be mine.”

I fell to my knees with him, smashing my lips onto his. Tangling my hand in his hair, the other clutching onto his sash, I felt like I was trying to kiss the life out of him. I wanted to merge my soul with his, I wanted to be a part of him, climb into his skin, breathe his air into my lungs. He tasted like the salt of the sea, his lips warm compared to the cold of his skin.

My walls crumbled, and with his hands on my skin, I realized nothing mattered more than him. No more research, no more work, just him.

I loved him so much, I could cry.

‘How do you see your future?’ He had asked so long ago.

With you, Rafayel.

Just you.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[deonsx]

helloo there!!♡, I really love the way you write. I'm wondering what it would be like if sae,rin,kaiser, have a gf who is a cosplayer, tyy♡!

Hiii dear!! Have a nice read and thank youuu^^

Rin Itoshi

Rin had come home early from practice. As soon as he opened the door he heard strange noises coming from the living room. When he walked in he found you sitting on the floor trying to shape a large piece of cardboard. The room was a mess with hot glue guns paints fabric scraps and oddly shaped foam pieces scattered everywhere

“What are you doing?” Rin asked with a curious expression. You looked up at him. With a smudge of paint on your face and messy hair you smiled brightly. “I’m working on a new cosplay. This is going to be a piece of armor” you said holding up the cardboard. Rin raised an eyebrow. “Armor? That thing needs a lot of work before it even looks like armor.”

“Don’t tease me!” you retorted. “This is just the base layer. It still needs painting hardening and detailing. Rin chuckled. “Alright alright. But why does the entire house look like a battlefield? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Though you looked a bit offended you could tell Rin was getting interested. “I watched some YouTube videos and read a few guides. It’s a bit challenging but I’m learning. Plus it’s fun”

Rin sat down next to you and picked up the piece of cardboard you were working on. “If you’re going to put in this much effort at least do it properly. You need to cut this cleanly with a craft knife” he said grabbing a knife and showing you how to do it

After that day Rin couldn’t help but get involved in your project. Sometimes he’d point out mistakes saying “You’re doing it wrong” and other times he’d grab a paintbrush to help you add finishing touches

When the cosplay was finally ready you put it on and showed Rin the completed look. As you posed excitedly you noticed the surprised look on his face. “Alright” he said after a moment “I thought it was silly at first but… it actually looks really good”

“Really?” you asked your eyes sparkling with hope. Rin shrugged. “Maybe. But after all that effort I guess I can’t say anything against it.” At the convention your armor caught everyone’s attention. People stopped you to take pictures and compliment your work. Rin stood a step behind you a small smile on his face keeping an eye on the crowd to make sure no one crossed any boundaries

Sae Itoshi

when you first mentioned your passion for cosplay he didn’t think much of it. “Cosplay? You mean dressing up as fictional characters?” he asked one day his tone calm but slightly curious “Exactly!” you replied with excitement. “It’s a lot more than just dressing up though. I design the outfits build props and sometimes even compete. It’s a hobby but it means a lot to me”

Sae gave a small nod. “If it’s important to you that’s fine. Just don’t expect me to dress up” You laughed at his response knowing it was his way of acknowledging your interests without diving too deeply

A few weeks later you were preparing for a convention. Your living room was a workshop with fabric glue guns and foam scattered everywhere. Sae walked in and paused his sharp gaze taking in the scene “You’ve been at this for hours” he commented setting his bag down

“Yup” you said not even looking up from the detailed painting you were doing on a prop. “The convention is in two days and I want this to be perfect” Sae sighed softly walking closer. “Does it really need to be this detailed? No one’s going to notice if it’s off by a little”

You shot him a playful glare. “Oh they’ll notice. Trust me cosplayers have an eye for detail” He didn’t reply but leaned down to pick up one of the finished pieces. “It’s impressive” he admitted after a moment. “I didn’t realize you made all of this yourself”

The day of the convention Sae offered to drive you there. As you stepped out of the car in your fully completed costume he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger for a moment. You looked stunning the outfit perfectly capturing the character you were portraying “You’re really into this aren’t you?” he said his voice softer than usual “I am” you replied with a bright smile. “And I love it”

At the convention Sae stayed in the background watching as people approached you for photos and compliments. He observed the way your face lit up every time someone admired your work. Despite his usual stoic demeanor he felt a subtle sense of pride

Later as you both sat down to eat he spoke up. “You’re talented. I don’t think I could have the patience to do something like that” You grinned. “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.” Sae smirked faintly. “Don’t let it go to your head”

Kaiser Michael

“You dress up as fictional characters and make all this stuff yourself?” he asked, spinning one of your half-finished props in his hand like it was a trophy.“Yes, Michael” you replied, rolling your eyes at his tone. “It’s not just dressing up. It’s crafting, designing, and bringing something I love to life. And no, you can’t break that it took hours to make”

Kaiser smirked and placed the prop back carefully. “Relax. I’m just admiring your… creativity” A few days later, he strolled into the room while you were sewing fabric for your next costume. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and he leaned casually against the doorway, watching you work. “So, when’s this big event of yours?”

“This weekend” you answered, not looking up from your work “Perfect. I’ll clear my schedule” he said with a grin. You looked up at him, surprised. “You’re coming?”

“Of course” he said as if it were obvious. “I have to see how good you are at this. Besides, you’ll need someone to make sure your fans don’t get too close”

The day of the convention, Kaiser arrived in style, dressed impeccably as always. When he saw you in your finished cosplay, his usual cocky smirk shifted into something softer. “I’ll admit” he said, circling you like a critic. “You look incredible. Almost as good as me” “Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow “Fine” he said with a mock dramatic sigh. “You look better than me for now”

At the convention, Kaiser stayed by your side, his presence impossible to ignore. People stared as much at him as they did at you, but he didn’t seem to mind. Whenever someone asked for a photo with you, he’d step aside, arms crossed, observing like he was the one managing your image

“You know” he whispered at one point as you posed for a group shot. “You should’ve told me earlier. I’d have joined you in costume. Imagine us as a power duo unstoppable” You laughed, shaking your head. “This is my thing, Michael. You already have football”

“But you’re my girlfriend” he said with a wink. “That makes everything you do my thing too” By the end of the day, you were exhausted but happy. Kaiser drove you home, still talking about how “you stole the show” and how “everyone was lucky to witness your brilliance”

Enjoy!

[brandyllyn]

Frostbite

Max Phillips x f!reader

Summary: By all that was holy in the world, you were going to slap the ever-loving shit out of this man. Words: 1.9k

For the #pedrostoriesgift24 Holiday Gift Exchange. @almostfoxglove asked for:

* max gets reader/character for their office's secret santa (or vice versa) * office christmas party

And y'all know I can't resist Max.

My Masterlist <- So much more Max stuff here y'all. I've missed him.

Rated: Teen Warnings: This is romantic and sweet and I make no apologies for that. Max being Max, however.

If you had to listen to George Michael complain one more time about what happened last Christmas, you were going to cause a scene.

Looking around the room, you took some small solace that no one else seemed to be having a good time either. Derek had taken up a post near the exit, obviously waiting until just enough time had passed that he could make a break for it. Malika was on her third hard cider - if she wasn’t careful she’d be the Monday morning gossip.

And the very next day, you gave it away…

You slip your phone from your pocket as surreptitiously as possible, checking the clock. Not even 6:30, there was still the speech from the CEO, the sales award, and of course the office secret Santa to get through before you could make your escape. They always saved secret Santa for last - everyone marching one by one to open their gift from the table in the center of the room. Showing everyone the mug they had been given.

It was always a mug.

The table looked extra sad this year - filled almost entirely with bags, half of which didn’t even have a festive spray of tissue. It was the laziest possible wrapping job. Nothing more clearly said ‘I put no thought into this’ than a dollar store bag, taped shut.

You had wrapped your gift. An oblong box with a festive red bow. Inside was a designer tie - one you had been lucky to find at a local thrift store. You had no idea if your giftee would like it, he ran so hot and cold you never could tell if he even liked you. Or anybody for that matter.

“Hey there sweet cheeks, looking for me?”

Speak of the devil.

“Never.”

He sidles up next to you, all long limbs and expensive cologne. His suit is perfect; crisp navy blue with a sparkly snowflake tie. As usual he stands too close, forcing you to shift slightly sideways to avoid brushing against him.

“You tease,” he pouts with a puffed out lower lip. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

Max Phillips, rising star of the sales department. Arrogant, conceited asshole and inveterate flirt. He was handsome too, which was honestly just annoying. If someone was going to be that obnoxious, they should at least look like half a roasted ham.

“I have it on good authority you don’t have one,” you point out.

He pats his chest for a moment, giving you a wounded look. “Stacey tell you that? Don’t be jealous, baby.”

“Miranda.”

He has the decency to hesitate, eyes darting across the room before back to you. “Well, someone had to be my shoulder to cry on.” You snort at that and he grins, shifting closer again and almost backing you to the wall. “And don’t worry about them, that’s business.”

You were pretty sure whatever that was you had walked in on in the copy room hadn’t been ‘business’ but you don’t point it out. Miranda hadn’t been the same, something viscerally off about her, ever since.

“You,” he leaned into you and you felt a cubicle wall at your back, “you would be nothing but pleasure wouldn’t you?”

“We are at work.”

“Most couples meet at work.”

“We’re not a couple.”

“We’re not a couple, yet.” He takes a deep breath and frowned. “You don’t take good care of yourself.”

“Excuse you?”

It came out close to a shriek, several heads turning your direction. Max gave them a dazzlingly wide smile and as one they smiled back. Even Richard, the grumpiest at the best of times, blushed. He blushed.

“You’re not eating right.”

By all that was holy in the world, you were going to slap the ever-loving shit out of this man. He wasn’t even looking at you, eyes scanning the room while he talked out of the corner of his mouth. “Dave is doing his speech,” you try to point out but Max gives you his attention long enough to roll his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject, babydoll.”

“What subject?”

Max takes the proverbial shovel you offer. “You’re gaunt. You’re not getting the right vitamins.”

“From the man who has an ‘allergy’ to sunlight.”

The grin he gives you is wolfish. “That’s documented. I have a doctor’s note.” You can’t help the small smile and of course he notices. “There now, was that so hard? I’m being charming all over the place here.”

“Why?”

The word is a hiss of air and he blinks at you, confused. “What do you mean, why?”

“You’ve fucked half the office.” You try very hard to keep your tone too low for anyone else to hear. “Am I keeping you from bingo or something?”

Another one of those deep breaths and he leans in to you, so close you think he might actually nuzzle you. “I like you.”

You snort, turning away.

“I do.” He scans the room again before he turns, blocking your view with his wide shoulders. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“I said no.”

There’s silence for several heartbeats before he admits, “You intrigue me.”

“You’re a liar.”

“All the time,” he concedes. “But not right now. There’s something for my people, a knowing of sorts…”

He trails off and you can’t help but ask, “Your people? Wasps?”

“Something like that.”

“Max Phillips!” The call of his name comes from out of the blue.

“Gotta run, sugar tits, duty calls.”

Of course he’s won the sales award. He shakes the CEO’s hand while accepting the plaque, turning and smiling - not pausing for even a moment when he realizes no one is going to take his photo. It doesn’t stop him from playing mayor of the cubicle farm, waving at a few people before stepping to the side. You notice him looking at you and studiously avoid meeting his eyes.

The secret Santa starts and you take a quick tally of how many people participated this year. Even if half the people make a fuss about it, you should be able to leave in fifteen minutes - twenty tops.

Since Max won the award he gets to go first, picking up the box you had carefully wrapped and tearing into it with the gusto of a toddler. He fingers the silk and you swear his eyes dart to where you’re standing. 

There is no way he could know you’d bought it for him. No way.

“Looks like we may have a tie for best present.”

People laugh at his terrible joke and he steps to the side, letting the next person fetch their mug. You try to be surreptitious as you gauge his reaction. Does he like it? Does he think it’s tacky? With one hand he pulls off the one he’s wearing and loops the length of red silk around his collar, deftly tying a full Windsor.

It looks good on him.

Dammit.

Your name is called and you shake yourself out of your stupor, avoiding looking to the side. The present is in a bright orange bag - not even a holiday color - and stapled closed. You reach in and pull out the small bottle.

“Iron supplements.”

There’s a small scattering of applause and you stare at the offending object for so long the new HR lady has to gently move you aside. 

Iron supplements.

Your secret Santa got you fucking iron supplements.

“You don’t look happy.”

The tie you so carefully picked out mocks you. You put thought into his present - and your Santa did what? Clean out their medicine cabinet? You wouldn’t be surprised if the bottle was already open.

No, you were not happy. You were fuming.

“You look pale.”

“Shut up.”

“And you’ve been having headaches lately.”

“How would you know?”

“I told you, you intrigue me.”

Something clicks and you finally look up at him, bottle clenched in your fist. “This was you?”

“You’re anemic.”

He sounds so absurdly reasonable you barely resist the urge to kick him. “You are not my doctor.”

“Do you have a doctor?”

You don’t, not that he needs to know that.

“If you did they might tell you your iron count is dangerously low. You should get checked for an autoimmune disease.”

“I do not have an autoimmune disease.” Derek shoots you a surprised look and you give him a wide smile before jerking Max’s arm and pulling him into a supply closet. “This is not appropriate. On like a hundred levels.”

“Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Tell me.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.” You shove a finger into his chest. “You may get other people to leap to your bidding but I’m not one of them.”

“I know,” he grins, “it’s fantastic.”

“Fantastic?” you repeat.

“Fantastic.” He’s faster that you expect, grabbing your wrist and flattening your palm to his chest. “Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”

He sounds genuinely concerned and you deflate, giving in. “I don’t have the money for fresh food. I’m living off ramen at the moment, okay? I’ll probably develop scurvy soon.”

“We pay you a decent amount - not what you’re worth, of course - but market value.”

You don’t bother asking how he knows that. “My ex took a loan out in my name. I’ve been paying it off.”

“Why isn’t he paying it off?”

“Because he’s an asshole and I can’t make him do anything.”

“Want me to kill him for you?”

It’s said so casually you almost think he means it. “It’s fine. It’s only another year. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to get rickets.”

“Isn’t that what Tiny Tim had?”

He nods. “Yes, and you’ll be begging for a Christmas bonus just like he did, too.”

“I think that was his dad.”

“Which one did Kermit play?”

You scoff, trying to pull your hand away from him. “Have you only ever seen the Muppet version of a Christmas Carol?”

He doesn’t let you go. “It’s the only one worth seeing.”

“Max,” you say softly. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, for worrying about me. Even if this-” you hold up the supplements with your other hand “-is by far the worst gift I have ever gotten.”

He gifts you with that wide, easy smile of his. “Let me buy you dinner, to make up for it.”

“Sure you don’t already have a date?”

“I’d cancel any plans for you.” If you didn’t know better you’d say he was serious.

“Big words, don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

“I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

He’s standing close, so close your chest brushes his when you take a breath. “Max…”

Tingles shoot to your fingertips as his lips capture yours. A rush of heat floods through you and you can’t help but moan when he sinks his fingers into the back of your neck. The sound he makes is close to a growl, his mouth opening and his tongue is suddenly there, licking at the seam of your lips.

Would it be wrong to climb him like a tree in the supply closet?

He apparently has the same idea, lifting you from underneath your ass with an ease that takes your breath away. Your back is pressed to the wire shelves and his hips settle between your thighs as though he’s always belonged there. Your neck arches into the palm of his hand and he nuzzles beneath your ear.

“Take your damn iron pills.”

“What?”

“Your iron,” his teeth scrape along your jaw, “and maybe a multi-vitamin too.”

You were going to slap him. Just soon as your head stopped spinning from his kiss.

For updates on stories please follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

Tagging in @almostfoxglove once more. Hope you liked your Max.

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part — 6 | 7 | 8

masterlist

your story

topthornton replied to your story:

did you really get nan to take this?

rafecam replied to your story:

sleeping beauty

sarahcameron replied to your story:

i see you’ve got room for me 😉

your phone

yourusername

liked by rafecam, sarahcameron and 3,098 others

yourusername girls day @ the beach

view comments

sarahcameron my baby

yourusername love u momma 😜

kiaracarrera i love having rich friends

itscleo literally

yourusername thanks for letting us sugar momma you!

jjmaybank did my invite get lost?

user it’s nice to see you in front of the camera!

sarahfan101 literally she’s really pretty

kiaracarrera

liked by heywardpope, yourusername and 72 others

kiaracarrera i got my girls!

view comments

jjmaybank and me, pope and john b

yourusername it’s giving fomo

heywardpope we just wanted an invite!

kiaracarrera worried i’ll steal your gf pope?

johnbr if you look closely you can see me crying

sarahupdates

liked by sarahfan101, user and 51,098 others

sarahupdates photos of sarah and y/n at the beach today, they were joined by cleo and kiara!

view comments

user2 how does it feel to live MY dream

sarahfan101 fr how do i get in on this?

user3 ugh they’re always having a good time

user4 when does sarah go back to la?

your story

rafecam, itscleo, johnbr and 5 others liked your story

a day at the beach, with your girls, was exactly what you needed to distract your mind from the weight of the whole situation with rafe. the combination of sun, laughter and alcohol brought a wash of calmness over you that you hadn’t felt since you’d arrived in outerbanks.

the sun began to set on the island, golden hues reflecting off of the water; a beautiful image of a sunset right before your eyes. that’s when you knew, it was time to go home.

you headed back to the comfort of your grandparents’ cozy home, your bikini still damp and the scent of saltwater lingering on your skin.

before sitting down with your grandparents, you excused yourself to shower — desperately needing one, to wash away the sand and tension of the day. feeling refreshed, you slipped on a pair of flowy, silk pyjamas; they were long, but their design allowed for air, making them perfect for the warm nights in obx.

you nestled yourself into the armchair, joining your grandparents in conversation; only the warm glow of the lamp beside you to light the room.

“good day?” your grandfather asked, as you placed yourself across from him.

“the best, pops.”

“how’s rafe doing?” your grandmother pried, causing your smile to falter, the casualty in her voice only revealed that this was just the beginning of a long and messy situation.

a/n: nan and pops about to be my fav characters.

taglist: @my-name-is-baby @yesshewrites1 @urbrunettebombshell @leather-n-velvet @fruitcakerafe

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So for new year cards...

Jack SSR is actually so cool; I like it. Malleus SSR is beautiful and all, but he really reminds me of a bride in forced marriage tropes. 😭

[Referencing the Twst JP Jan 2025 schedule!]

Finally, some good fucking food for Jack stans 😭 Port Fest feels like so long ago… fbjssbdjjs I feel like I can’t appreciate his design as much as others can. I’m not into the skintight undershirt on a character as buff as Jack is, and I'm confused as to why his gloves are... like that??? But!! I do like his fluffly little boa thing and how enthusiastic his pose is. You can tell he’s really putting his all into the New Year Sale~!

Malleus got another new hairstyle (any hairstyle that's different than his default one is a win in my book www)!! I think it's a well-liked look among his fans; I already saw so many people commenting that he looks like a love interest in a reborn as a villainess isekai or something to that effect.

I also saw some chatter around the thin fabric that Malleus seems to have over himself. A common joke is that it's a "wedding veil", but given the traditional Japanese clothes everyone is wearing for the new year, it's more likely also a Japanese article of clothing. A friend theorized that it's a 被衣 (kazuki/katsugi), a garment worn over the head that fully covers the body. These are mostly donned by noblewomen to cover their faces when they go out--and that sort of makes sense, given that Malleus himself is a noble. How demure and mindful... I thought the veil could also be a frost blanket (you know, to protect the budding flowers from the cold)?? But I'm not entirely sure right now; maybe the vignettes will give us more context!

A friend and I were speculating as to what flowers might be featured in the initial card art and the conclusion we came to was ume (plum) blossoms. The color and shape are similar, and they're a classic flower in winter anime. Something else I noticed was that the same flowers seem to appear in Sebek's New Year Attire from two years ago! If you compare Malleus and Sebek, you'll notice that the lighting is much warmer in Sebek's too. In fact, all previous SSR cards are pretty much like that, save for maybe Trey but at least Trey is shown to be in front of the shop. It really makes Malleus's card "stick out", since he's the only one that appears to be in a lonely and isolated location, just him and the plum blossoms.

On the subject of clothing worn by Japanese women! The same friend and I talked about Jamil's New Year Attire too. (Figured I'd throw this in here since I'm already talking about the other three 2025 New Year boys. Don't wanna leave him out, y'know??)

You can see that he has his hood up in the initial card artwork; my friend joked that Jamil's a newlywed. Why? Brides that choose to dress traditionally for their wedding days wear a wide white headdress/hood called a 角隠し (tsunokakushi), which covers an elaborate hairstyle like Jamils'/j. The "tsuno" (horns, as I'm sure you're all familiar with) in the name refers to the "horns of jealousy"; the tsunokakushi is meant to blanket the jealousy so she can enter her new married life at peace.

Of course, the shape, color, and context of the tsunokakushi is very different than what Jamil's got going on and the Twst team most likely did not intend for this comparison to be drawn, but I thought that this was interesting to share ^^ (*feeds Jamuil yumes this delulu cultural trivia*)

Aaaand let's close out with Floyd! The answer to his question is simple, actually. To put one's arm inside the kimono is just a very casual or relaxed way to pose. It suits Floyd and his attitude, doesn't it?

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

That's Priceless

Prompt Day 26: Hanukkah | Word Count: 442 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Chrismukkah, Gift Giving, Jewish Eddie Munson

Steve pushes the cart, and Eddie isn't paying a lot of attention. They've been at this for hours, and he's not invested in any more shopping. He's done, done. But Steve's list to buy for is longer than the list of people Eddie even likes, so here they are. Still shopping, and Eddie dropped three stores ago.

When he looks up, Steve's putting a roll of wrapping paper in the cart. It's covered with blue, white and gold graphics, very clearly for Hanukkah. 

"Don't we still have some paper left?" Eddie asks. He's pretty sure they still have the roll they bought a few years ago.

"Well, yeah," Steve answers, "but everybody else gets new Christmas wrapping paper way more often because we go through more Christmas paper. I thought you might like to see something new, too."

Eddie smiles. He definitely, one hundred percent, doesn't care about what the wrapping paper looks like. But if Steve cares, he'll care, too.

"Thanks, that's nice of you," Eddie says, because it is nice, and thoughtful. 

Steve Harrington is a good dude, and that's a fact that Eddie has learned over and over again during the time he's known him.

The night before Hanukkah begins, Steve hands him a box, looking giddy. Eddie pulls the top off, and there's a new menorah. It looks hand-carved, with characters that are designed and painted in a DnD theme. It's totally fun, and not at all what Eddie expected to be in the box. 

"It's kosher!" Steve announces, nearly bursting at the seams, he's so excited.

Eddie picks it up, and it is. Eight candle holders in a straight line, on the same level, with the helper candle spot just a little raised. It is, in fact, kosher. Steve's been listening to him, which shouldn't surprise him at all. Steve always listens, retains information, and tucks it away for a rainy day.

"It is," Eddie says, "thanks, Steve. I love it."

"There are forty-five candles, too. Just in case one breaks or is missing a wick or something," Steve explains, and Eddie really, truly wonders who he's been talking to. 

It doesn't really matter. Steve thought this through, thoroughly, just to make Eddie happy and that's priceless. 

Eddie clears a space for it, and can't wait for the next night. It's his very own menorah, suited to him, just because Steve loved him enough to reach out to someone to have it made.

He's always celebrated both, and Steve has embraced that fully. There's a Christmas tree in front of the window, and now his very own menorah on the mantle.

'Tis the season. Both of them.

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🕎

Notes: I saw the video of the woman showing different menorahs and having the viewers guess if they were kosher or not. There was a fun dinosaur one that was, and it made think, well, there could be a DnD one for Eddie.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Days of Yore

Warnings: some dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You show up uninvited but are welcomed nonetheless.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

Day Twenty-Five of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt -an unexpected guest at the holiday get together.

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

“Wow,” you gape up at the immaculate array of lights strung across the facade. “This place is amazing. Who’s house is this?” 

“A friend of a friend’s, I don’t know,” Wendy shrugs. 

“A friend... Oh? Are you sure it’s okay we’re here?” You wonder with a furrow between your brows. You now feel a bit foolish for getting all done up when you might not even have been invited. 

“Open invite! Besides, no one will notice,” she assures you. 

“Right,” you mutter doubtfully. 

“Loosen up. What else do you got going on, huh?” She grabs your hand and pulls you through the open iron gates. They accentuate the medieval effect of the house. Now you don’t feel done up enough. 

“Not much, I guess,” you admit. If anything, you’ll get a bit of free food then ditch. It's not the first time you’ve unintentionally party-crashed with your wayward friend. 

“You know Sienna, it will be fine,” she tuts and comes up to the front doors.  

Again, you’re awed by the aesthetic of it all. You notice that the lights aren’t coloured, but only white, and the decor doesn’t bear the typical Santa or candy cane theme. In fact, it all has a historic tint. Traditional in a strange way. Dried oranges hung on long strings and holly twisted into bunches. For a moment, you’re remind of that dusty history degree hidden in the back of your closet. 

Wendy knocks with the heavy iron knocker. She waits and chatters as she wiggles her legs below her short skirt. She didn’t dress for the temperature. She searches the door frame and grumbles. 

“You think someone who could afford this place would have a doorcam or something,” she chuffs out a cloud of steam. 

The door opens and startles you both. You look over as Wendy as good as jumps inside. She seizes the woman who keeps a hand on the door. 

“Kami! You look... nice,” she holds her and gives her an eye up and down, “is this velvet?” She drags her hands down the green fabric. 

“Designer,” Kami pushes away her touch. “You brought a friend.” 

“Yeah, Sienna said so--” 

“Mm, sure, it’s just... whatever. No one will notice,” Kami rolls her eyes. “You have to come. Lucas has the funniest story! I was just dying.” 

Your shoulders fall and you clasp your hands together. You trail after, unwelcome and unacknowledged. Uninvited. You frown and silently configure how you can excuse yourself and leave. If you wait long enough, Wendy will forget about you. It might be easier to sneak out. 

You stop to hang your coat with all the rest and Kami makes a point of telling you to take your boots off. The floors are old wood, polished and well-kept. The entire house is immaculate. An antique on its own. 

You follow them into a high-ceilinged room adorned in strings of threaded popcorn and dried clusters of flowers. The air is fragrant as mulled cider steams in a heated bowl on a table, copper cups waiting to be filled, and dishes of appetizers in a line. The smell makes your stomach churn hungrily. 

“Who the hell owns this place?” Wendy asks the question nibbling on your ears. 

“Oh, he’s a funny guy,” Kami chuckles. “A bit... eccentric. Sienna’s been trying to loosen him up a bit, I mean... look at this house. That’s a good bag.” 

You try not to show your disapproval. You don’t have much luck with men but hearing the way some of your friends talk about them, you don’t know that you’re cut out for it all. It really doesn’t seem that anyone is out for a genuine connection, they just want a good set-up.

Can you really blame them? You’ve been handwashing your clothes since your building hiked up the machine prices. Turns out a couple quarters can really break the bank. 

Your guilt compounds as you realise that you’ve cosigned this entire extortionate affair. This party seems to have been a ploy by a hopeful prize winner. You know Sienna and she’s always sure to show you her Fenti and point out the label, though she can never remember the name of the man who bought it. 

“So what? He gave her full run to do all this? It's not really her... style. I expected more pink,” Wendy scoffs. 

“Nope, he’s a tight ass apparently. They were up for nights making the decorations and the food.” 

“What?” She squeals in surprises as your whispers from your mouth. That’s a lot of work. 

“Very old-fashioned,” Kami remarks. “But he’s not just rich you know, he’s fucking hot.” 

“Ah, jackpot,” Wendy giggles. 

You keep behind them, as good as hiding behind them. You bob and clutch your purse as Lucas excitedly hugs Wendy and Sienna drunkenly echoes him. You know a few of the partygoers standing with them but none of them even look in your direction. It seems Wendy’s already forgotten you. 

This is why you said no at first. This is how it always goes but she begged and begged, guilting you fro making her show up alone. What about you? Why is it okay to ditch you every time? 

You glance around. There are just as many strangers and none of them seem eager to mingle past their trio or pairing. You wish Wendy mentioned the dress code. You don’t think your H&M clearance rack attire is very suiting. 

As an elbow hits your arm, you back up. No apology. You’re a piece of decor to these people. You back up and turn. Well, no one else seems to want to indulge. What a weird party. 

You go to the table and take a cup. It’s times like these that you enjoy being invisible. College was tough, you longed to be noticed, to be like the other girls. Since then, you’ve grown comfortable with just being there. It’s much safer. 

You ladle the cider into a mug and the steam roils from the top. A slice of blood orange and a few cranberries float in the rich amber liquid. You blow over it and retreat. The warmth is a comfort. It makes you feel a little less out-of-place. 

As you turn, you nearly collide with another. You bring your other hand up to steady the cup and barely keep from sloshing the cider all over. You squeak and step back on your heel, your eyes skimming up the large figure in front of you.  

You haven’t seen eyes like those since... 

“Geralt?” You utter dumbly. 

He looks down at you. He looks different but not. He always had his own vibe. The white hair, the bright eyes, he wore his individuality without meaning too. Yet some things are his own doing. 

When you were in Early Modern History or Medieval Weaponry and Warfare together, he always dressed as if the clocks were set back to the Victorian era. Stiff jackets, high collared shirts, even a pocket watch. He was a bit of a dweeb then but too big for anyone to say so. And he was the only person who wanted to talk about history outside the lectures. 

Now he wears a tunic, silver trim on black, slightly less stuffy but just as dated. Half of his hair is twisted back behind his head, the tails of it spilling past his shoulders. 

He says your name and tilts his head, “I didn’t invite you.” 

It’s a statement that makes your heart sink. You peer down at your cup then around the room. “I’m sorry, my friend, she knows Sienna, she--” 

“It’s good to see you,” he interrupts. “It’s been a very long time.” 

You wince and dare to look at him again. “Yes, college was a while ago.” You slanted your lips and press your hands to the hot metal cup. “This is your house? It’s very nice.” 

“It is. I don’t often entertain, so mind the cobwebs,” he intones. He still has that way of speaking; so matter-of-fact. “It wasn’t my idea.” 

“Mm, right,” you nod. 

“Is the cider good? I found the recipe in an old journal from 1764.” 

“Of course you did,” you hold back a laugh. 

“Of course...” he begins to repeat curiously. 

“It’s all very you, is all,” you say. 

“I suppose,” he agrees. 

You smile shakily and swallow. You make yourself try the cider. It’s hot but not scalding. A very spiced. Not in a bad way, you just don’t expect that much. 

“Mm, it’s... heady.” 

“Mulled for days,” he explains. He shifts on his feet and smooths his tunic. “Can I show you something?” 

“Um, sure,” you accept. “It’s not the door, is it?” 

He lets out a small snort, “leave the cider.” 

You peer around and he takes the cup from you. He puts it down on a leather coaster on a tall wooden table and beckons you after him. You peek back as you sense a hush and notice that Sienna and the rest of them are watching. Great, they already don’t care much for you. 

Geralt stops and waits for you to catch up to him. The staircase is wide enough for both of you. Your ascent is quiet, almost torturously so. 

“You did not bring a boyfriend?” He asks. 

You nearly laugh at the abrupt question. You get to the top of the stairs and he gestures you left. 

“Well, I’d bring my cat. He’s the only guy sleeping in my bed,” you kid. 

He hums but doesn’t comment. 

“So, how’d you meet Sienna?” You ask. 

He shrugs and stops to open a door. He pushes it inward and reaches around the frame to turn on the lights. He waits for you to enter first. You do with a gasp at the interior. 

The walls are hung with various weaponry and you can tell at a glance that it’s genuine. It’s like walking into a museum. You traipse forward as you stare and barely notice the door click shut. 

“Wow, how—Geralt, how the heck—what do you do? I mean, how can you afford all this?” 

“I make replicas for TV and stage productions,” he explains. “This is my personal collection.” 

“It’s... wow,” you hug yourself, feeling even smaller than before. 

He’s quiet again. That’s just how he’s always been. He never said more than he needed to. It made studying very easy. 

“You asked about Sienna. She is persistent but we are older now. I don’t see her as viable,” he says. Again, just a fact, nothing emotional. 

“Oh, uh, well, I heard otherwise. Maybe you should tell her that,” you chuckle nervously as you admire the executioner’s sword with its blunt tip. 

“Perhaps,” he agrees as he slowly crosses the room to stand next to you. “I’m... pleased that you showed up. It is a coincidence, isn’t it?” 

“Sure, must be,” you agree. 

You keep your eyes on the groove in the blade as you feel his on you. You sidle along and turn your head away from him. The door is shut. He stays close. 

“Here,” he steps around you, startling you. 

You spin as he goes to a large wooden chest on a table. “The smaller things are in here. Thumb screws, some daggers...” he flips open the lid as you turn and follow, keeping your distance. He holds up a curved blade, possibly a jambiya. “Hm, come,” he waves you around as he reaches in again, “you’ll like this one.” 

You sway before you move, hands clasped to each other. You slowly pace around to him and he moves so quickly you nearly stagger. In a moment, there’s a weight around your wrists. You cry out and raise your manacled arms. 

“Geralt!” You exclaim. 

He laughs. You don’t hear that often. You look at him and tug on the chain. 

“Centuries old but they are strong still, yes?” 

You frown, “please, it’s not funny. I don’t like it.” 

“Aren’t they wonderful?” 

“No, Geralt, please, take them off.” 

“Hm, I’d have to find the key...” 

“Don’t play,” you warn. 

His laughter trickles off and his face returns to its stoic mask. He stares at you. Silence rises and roils around you as the chain clinks in the loops of the cuffs and you fidget. You wait for him to pull out the key and undo them. 

Instead, he hooks a thick finger around the links and tugs until your arms are above you. He holds you like that, trapped and prone. You shudder as you stare up at him, terrified at the glint in his pale eyes. 

“I’m not playing,” he intones. “I’ve been waiting to get you in those. Far too long.” 

[accio-victuuri]

merry christmas to us turtles, my gift to you is this clowning post for yibo’s new song ( i am not here ) concept poster. of course, we have multiple cpns already with this material alone. lol. i’m sure we will know more when the track is released and other bts stuff. reminder to enjoy the song & if it’s cpn leaning or not doesn’t really matter. we are here to support yibo and this is his yearly “gift” to fans 🎁

as with xz’s we album art, our minds immediately went to the cql connection. it’s too easy! this is because the chinese title is 我在 which is i’m here but the english title and what’s on the poster is i am not here ( possible explanation of why this happens is at the end of this post ). it could be that these two lines are in the song — anyway, the “i am here” is something that lwj said 🥹🥹🥹🥹

in the novel, this has more weight and makes me wanna scream actually 😭😭😭😭

i will just include here the part/s in the novel that people are referencing:

Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian called out. Lan Wangji’s breathing wasn’t as steady as it usually was—it was slightly short, probably from overexerting himself in hand-to-hand combat while carrying Wei Wuxian on his back. However, the tone with which he answered him had the same steadiness he’d always possessed, and it was still that word: “Mn.” After that, he added, “I’m here.” Hearing those two words, a feeling Wei Wuxian had never felt before spread into his heart. It was like an ache. His heart throbbed a little, but it was also a little warm

LAN ZHAN…” Wei Wuxian murmured. He reached out and grabbed one of Lan Zhan’s sleeves. Lan Wangji, who had been keeping watch by his side, immediately leaned over to answer him softly. “I am here.”

Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian mumbled. Everyone was overjoyed, thinking he was about to wake up, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes remained tightly shut. Lan Wangji, on the other hand, looked as he usually did. “Mn. I am here.”Wei Wuxian said nothing else. He nuzzled against Lan Wangji, as if feeling safe and reassured, and continued to sleep.

The moment Wei Wuxian heard the dog, his hair immediately stood on end and he shrank into Lan Wangji’s embrace. Scared completely out of his wits, he cried out. “Lan Zhan!” Lan Wangji already knew to hold him. “Mn!” he assured him. “I am here!” “Hold me!” Wei Wuxian pleaded. “I am!” Lan Wangji replied. “Hold me tight!” Wei Wuxian then specified. “I am!” Lan Wangji confirmed.

and if you think about it— this is what wyb is to xz. he is there. even when is not there physically, he is. and vice versa 🫶🏼

plus the photo of yibo with his eyes closed, similar to lwj. personally, it’s making me so jealous of his eyebrows again 😤😤😤😤

fans are also going back to that one post of xz that said i’m here, good night! and when you connect that to the goodnight song that we think is a bjyx inspired track. and now yibo releases i’m here.

if you wanna clown some more, you can say that wyb’s song is sort of an answer to goodnight. cause xz’s more about not being with that person physically but he cherishes the goodnight they share with each other at the end of the day. and wyb is saying i’m here / i’m not here. ybo’s caption for the teaser is “Close your eyes and the colors of the world bloom in your heart. The distant blur and the real reunion at hand.”

so it’s a reunion? being together after some time apart? Close your eyes? Sleep and you will see me there cause i’m in your heart too. but don’t worry, we will be together soon.

I SWEAR. 😭😭😭😭😭

ALSO THIS TYPE OF DESIGN:

and how their song titles have two characters. we and i’m here. it goes well together.

and pretty much like how hu ge used “we/us” in his caption before. the same happened with this track. what a coincidence! 👀👀👀👀

Lastly, i found someone explaining why there is a difference in the direct translation. We had experience with this in GG’s songs form his wo men album. In the same way that the english titles of Chinese movies almost always is not the direct translation.

If the Chinese name is "I’m here” and the English name is "I am not here", this may be due to the following reasons:

1. Cultural differences and artistic conception: When Chinese and English express the same concept, they often have different language styles and cultural backgrounds. Sometimes Chinese names may focus on conveying a certain kind of meaning & artistic conception or emotion, while English names are more direct or have reverse meanings. For example, the Chinese name "I am" may convey a sense of presence or some kind of presence. The English name "I am not here" may be intended to express an emotion or theme of absence.

2. The double meaning of the work: It is possible that this work focuses on a certain theme (such as existence, positioning, presence) in Chinese, but in English it uses negative sentences. The expression conveys the opposite meaning, thereby creating a certain sense of contrast or suspense. This naming scheme may be intended to pique the interest of viewers or readers and encourage them to explore the work and the deep meaning behind it.

3. Translation strategy: Sometimes in order to adapt to the habits and aesthetics of different language markets, translation will take a certain degree of freedom. The translator may think that the English "I am not "here" can better capture the essence of the original work in a certain context or can more effectively resonate with English audiences.

4. Difference in context; if "I Am" is a contrasting or symbolic name, then the English name "i am not here" may be related to the content of the story. For example, a character may not be physically present, but still "exist" or "affect" the story on other levels.

In short, the differences between Chinese and English titles may be due to differences in language and culture, or may be due to the creator or translator's attempt to better convey the theme or introduction of the story. A choice made based on the curiosity of the audience.

There is also this interpretation:

The philosophy of "presence" and "absence" of emotions:

The combination of the two can also be understood as a philosophical reflection on presence and absence. "I’m here" can be seen as a declaration and guarantee of love, meaning that even if you are not together in a space, two people can still perceive each other mentally and rely on each other; and "I am not here" faces the physical absence in reality and is an emotion.

Self-expression on the Internet means that although you are not in front of the other person, you are still with them in your heart. It symbolizes the silent understanding and spiritual bond between long-distance lovers. Even if they cannot always appear in each other's lives, their hearts will always be with them.

Resonance in long-distance relationships:

Summary:

For couples in long-distance relationships, "I Am Here" may be the singer's promise to his lover - "I am here, no matter where you are"; while "I am not here" It is to Acknowledge the difficulties and helplessness of reality, "Although I am no longer with you, I still care about you." The two combine to express the unique experience of long-distance love: between love and absences, there are both firm commitment and deep longing and helplessness.

The combination of "I am here " and "I am not here" shows the emotional tension in long-distance relationships. Together they express a profound emotional state: that of being physically. We are not together physically, but our emotional and spiritual connection is strong. "I am here” represents deep love and firm commitment, while "I am not here" is a positive statement.

Acknowledging the sense of distance and absence in long-distance relationships. Together, they convey a sense of emotional persistence and acceptance of distance from reality, while also demonstrating that even in absence, Love still exists and is still real.

The Chinese and English names of this song are not only a true portrayal of the emotion of long-distance love, but also express the two aspects of love - persistence and absence, presence and loss, embodying the duality in long-distance relationships. No matter where we are, our hearts will always find each other.

THIS IS ALL GUESSWORK/CLOWNING. The title could change. There could be a completely different meaning than we think. It’s still so early but this is what’s fun with being a turtle and doing cpn <3 don’t take it seriously! Again, what’s important is we will get a new song! 🙌🏼

source/s

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (5); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8k+

Chapter Warnings: vandalization, wooyoung, your mom.

A/N: i’m so sorry for the super late update omg. since it’s the holiday season, my friends dragged me on an impromptu trip to the mountains, and I didn’t have proper wifi for like three days, so I couldn’t really proof read and post updates. anyways, i was thinking it might be a good idea to set fixed days of the week for updates, so I don’t leave you all hanging for too long. how about we make it every tuesday for this one? and if I’m feeling extra motivated, you might even get impromptu updates in between !! let me know what you think <3 also what do you guys think about this part? i really tried to mirror eleanor's character here hehehehe

part 5

Jungkook gulps, the uneasiness in his chest growing heavier with each passing second. His thoughts spiral... how could he not know something so significant about you? The weight of Wooyoung’s words lingers like a dark cloud, and Jungkook feels a pang of frustration at his own cluelessness.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung sits there, exuding smug satisfaction, his tone dripping with judgment and condescension. Before Jungkook can even think of a response, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

"Hey, Jungkook! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere."

It’s Namjoon, one of your and Taehyung’s cousins. Jungkook immediately recognizes him from the tea ceremony and their brief interactions earlier on the cruise.

Without hesitation, Namjoon strides over, his easy grin never faltering as he helps Jungkook up from the bar, casually slinging an arm over his shoulder in a protective, almost brotherly gesture.

Jungkook blinks, startled but compliant, his gaze lingering on Wooyoung for a moment longer before he lets Namjoon steer him away.

As they weave through the pulsating crowd on the dance floor, Namjoon leans in slightly, his voice pitched low enough to be heard over the booming bass of the DJ’s set. "Looks like you needed some saving." he murmurs, a soft knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Jungkook casts one last glance at the chaotic swirl of neon lights and bodies moving in sync with the music. The atmosphere feels oppressive, the conversation with Wooyoung still swirling in his head, but Namjoon’s steady presence offers a much-needed sense of calm.

"You okay?" Namjoon asks once they’re out of earshot, his concern evident as he peers at Jungkook.

Jungkook exhales deeply, his hand running through his hair. "Who... was that?" he asks, his voice strained, laced with lingering frustration and confusion. Namjoon chuckles softly, his grip on Jungkook’s shoulder steady as they put more distance between themselves and the chaotic energy of the party.

"That?" he repeats, shaking his head slightly. "That was Wooyoung. A bit of a wildcard, but mostly harmless... as long as you don’t let him get into your head."

Jungkook frowns, his mind still caught in the web of the earlier conversation. "He said some... things." he murmurs, his voice laced with tension. "About Y/n, about their past... and how her mom wanted them to—" He stops abruptly, the words sticking in his throat, as if saying them aloud might solidify them into something undeniable.

Namjoon sighs, his expression softening as he glances at Jungkook. "Yeah, Wooyoung does have a knack for stirring the pot." he admits. "And... well, he’s not entirely wrong about some of it."

Jungkook’s head snaps towards Namjoon, his brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "But you’ve got to understand something, Jungkook." Namjoon begins, his tone measured.

"Y/n’s life before you? It’s complicated. Her mom? Even more so. She’s... traditional. She wanted Y/n to settle down here, to live the life she envisioned for her. Going to New York? Pursuing fashion? That wasn’t part of the plan. Her mom thought..." He trails off as they reach a quieter corner, settling near a small table where the thumping bass of the music fades to a faint hum.

"She thought Y/n would drift away... from her culture, her roots, everything she was raised with." Namjoon continues, his voice lower now. "So, she brought Wooyoung into the picture."

Jungkook leans forward slightly, absorbing every word, trying to piece together this part of your life he hadn’t known.

"They didn’t date." Namjoon clarifies quickly, sensing Jungkook’s unease. "Hell, Y/n couldn’t even stand the guy. He’s off-putting, doesn’t know how to respect boundaries, and, honestly, just a jerk. I don’t even know why Seokjin invited him tonight. Even Taehyung can’t stand him." He pauses, shaking his head in exasperation before continuing.

"Anyway, Y/n’s mom had this whole idea that Wooyoung was the perfect match... stable, from a good family, all that nonsense. She thought marrying him would keep Y/n grounded, keep her here. But Y/n? She wasn’t having any of it." he pauses, looking at Jungkook.

"She rebelled, stood her ground, and thank god for Taehyung and her dad. They backed her up, and eventually, her mom had no choice but to let her go and do what she wanted."

Namjoon leans back, his gaze steady as he studies Jungkook. "Look, Y/n’s family dynamic is... complex. But she’s here now, and she chose her path. And she chose you." His words linger, grounding Jungkook in the present as the weight of the past begins to feel just a little less overwhelming.

Jungkook stays silent, sitting stiffly as the reality of everything sinks in. His hooded eyes stay fixed on the table, his mind churning with thoughts he’s struggling to process. Namjoon notices, his concern deepening at the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders and his distant expression.

"Hey..." Namjoon says gently a few second later, leaning forward. "Why don’t we head back to your room? I’ll call a few friends, and we can just hang out, play some cards, or something chill." He’s clearly trying to distract Jungkook, offering him an escape from the storm brewing inside.

Jungkook finally looks up, his lips curving into a tight, appreciative smile. The gesture speaks volumes, and Namjoon doesn’t push further, understanding the gratitude in his silence. A distraction sounds good, better than sitting here, drowning in the spiral of his own thoughts.

"Yeah, sure." Jungkook agrees, his voice subdued. He rises from his seat, and Namjoon drapes a casual arm over his shoulders again as they make their way out.

"You’re a good guy, you know that?" Namjoon says, his tone light but sincere. "I’ve heard so much about you from Y/n and Tae. Don’t let stuff like this get to you. It’s not worth it."

Jungkook nods, his expression unreadable. He’s heard words like that more than once lately, but they leave him unsure... comforted, yes, but also questioning what kind of person he truly is. Still, he doesn’t dwell on it, choosing instead to follow Namjoon’s lead.

As Namjoon pulls out his phone to text a few friends, Jungkook exhales slowly. The familiar comfort of his cabin feels like a welcome retreat. But the moment he unlocks the door and steps inside, the comfort vanishes.

"What the fuck?" Namjoon blurts out beside him, his voice sharp with shock. Jungkook freezes, his eyes widening as he takes in the chaos. His room is unrecognizable... furniture overturned, belongings scattered everywhere. But it’s the wall that grabs his attention, a chill running down his spine.

GO BACK TO NEW YORK, YOU BROKE MOTHERFUCKER.

The words are scrawled in bold red spray paint, glaringly hostile against the pale wall. Jungkook’s lips part in disbelief as he struggles to process what he’s seeing.

His gaze darts around the wreckage, landing on his camera lying on the floor. The sight makes his stomach drop... the lens is shattered, pieces of glass glinting in the light. His fists clench at his sides, and his jaw tightens as anger bubbles beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Namjoon steps forward cautiously, his brows furrowed as he surveys the destruction. "Who the hell would do this?" he mutters, his tone a mix of anger and disbelief.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he stares at the damage. Whoever did this wasn’t just trying to vandalize... they were sending a message. A clear, personal message meant to hurt, to unsettle.

Namjoon places a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Jungkook...” he says, his tone steady but urgent. “We need to report this. Now.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “No, it’s okay.” he breathes out. “I don’t want to make a scene.” He doesn’t elaborate, but deep down, a suspicion simmers. He has a hunch who’s behind this.

Namjoon’s lips press into a thin line, clearly unconvinced. His gaze flickers over Jungkook’s tense expression before he nods reluctantly. “Alright...” he concedes, though the hesitation in his voice is evident. “But at least... let’s get someone to clean this up.”

As they step out of the cabin in search of help, Jungkook’s eyes catch a flicker of movement down the hallway. A group of men stand at the far end, partially hidden behind the corner of a wall. They’re watching him.

The moment Jungkook’s gaze locks on them, they smirk, their expressions dripping with smugness, almost as if they’re proud of what they’ve done.

Jungkook’s stomach churns as the group casually turns and saunters away, their laughter echoing faintly. It’s obvious... they’re Wooyoung’s friends. The realization cements his earlier suspicion, and anger flares in his chest.

Childish. Immature. Petty. That’s all he can think. What kind of people stoop so low, targeting someone just because of who they’re dating? He feels the bitterness rise in his throat but forces himself to swallow it. Dwelling on it would give them more power than they deserve.

Namjoon notices the shift in Jungkook’s demeanor and follows his line of sight. “Them?” he asks, his voice low. Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose and nods, though he says nothing.

Instead, he straightens his posture, his resolve hardening. “Let’s just focus on fixing this.” he says finally, his voice steady. He’s unsettled, undeniably, but he refuses to let them win by giving the reaction they clearly want.

As the staff arrive to clean up the mess, Jungkook quietly requests Namjoon to let the incident go. “Please... don’t tell anyone about this.” he murmurs, his tone firm. “Not Taehyung... not Y/n. No one.” He says and Namjoon nods understandingly though he feels Wooyoung's actions need to be informed, especially to you.

The cruise crew, apologetic and accommodating, offers him a new cabin for the night while all the repairs are arranged. Jungkook accepts with a quiet nod, and Namjoon insists on helping him move his luggage.

Once everything is settled, Namjoon lingers at the doorway of the new cabin. His brows knit together in concern as he looks at Jungkook.

“You sure you’ll be okay, buddy?” he asks gently. Jungkook stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He offers a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.” he says, his voice quieter now.

Namjoon observes him for a beat longer, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of something unresolved in his eyes. “Thanks for tonight, Namjoon.” Jungkook says after a moment, breaking the silence.

“No need to thank me, man. Just... if you need anything, call me, okay?” Namjoon’s voice is soft but reassuring. He gives Jungkook a small, supportive smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Now alone, Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh as he sinks onto the edge of the bed. The events of the night replay in his mind, but they’re overshadowed by the larger storm brewing within him.

The spray-painted words and broken camera are bothersome, sure, but they pale in comparison to the weight of the new information he’s learned about you.

Why hadn’t you told him?

The question gnaws at him. His thoughts spiral, each one sharper than the last. He wonders about the secrets you kept... your family’s reality, their influence, their power, their reach. Part of him understands, he really does.

But another part wonders if you didn’t trust him enough or if you were testing him somehow. The doubt curls in his chest, tightening with each passing second.

Before he can sink further into his thoughts, his phone buzzes. The screen lights up, and your name flashes on it. He stares at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the answer button as he draws a calming breath. He doesn’t want you to know what happened tonight. Not yet.

And even amidst the chaos, he’s missed you, and the thought of hearing your voice is a welcome relief. He finally picks up, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Kook!!” Your voice is bright and warm, cutting through his clouded thoughts. Despite himself, Jungkook smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Hi, baby.” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying a warmth that matches yours. For a moment, everything else fades, and it’s just the two of you again.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much.” you whine, your voice filled with a playful pout. Jungkook exhales a soft laugh, leaning back onto the mattress and clutching his phone tighter against his ear. A smile tugs at his lips, one he doesn’t bother to suppress as he stares at the unfamiliar ceiling of his new cabin.

“Why? Is Jeju that boring?” he teases, the humor in his voice masking the heaviness still lingering from earlier. “Without you? Everything’s boring.” you retort, the response so quick and earnest it pulls a chuckle from him. The sound carries a warmth that he didn’t realize he desperately needed until now.

“How’s the cruise going? Having fun?” you ask, your words bubbling with genuine curiosity. Jungkook’s eyes flit to the corner of the room, where his suitcase sits haphazardly unpacked.

Fun. The word feels almost foreign after the day he’s had. But for you, he keeps his voice steady.

“Yeah, it’s been fun.” he lies smoothly, weaving the words together like armor. “Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear that!” Your excitement is so pure, so untainted, it makes him momentarily forget the day he's had. “I went to the Snoopy Garden today and it was so freaking adorable! You’d love it. We have to come here together.” you beam.

He can’t help but smile at your words. “That sounds nice, baby.” he chuckles. “Make sure to send me pictures. I wanna see.”

“Of course! I’ll send them right after we hang up.” you promise, your enthusiasm so contagious that Jungkook feels the tightness in his chest ease ever so slightly.

As you continue to talk, filling him in on the small joys and whimsical adventures of your day at the island, he feels the tension seeping out of him.

Wooyoung, the spray-painted words, the shattered camera, the mocking laughter from the hallway, all of it fades into the periphery. Your voice, your laughter, the ease with which you share your world with him... it all anchors him in a way he can’t quite explain.

A few minutes later, there’s a sudden muffled noise on your end, and Jungkook recognizes the sounds of your friends calling you. He doesn’t need to ask, he already knows what’s coming.

“Okay, baby, I think I have to go.” you say reluctantly, your voice tinged with guilt. “Miyeon and the girls are dragging me to dinner.”

He hums softly, a small, understanding smile curving his lips. “Of course, baby. Go have fun. Call me when you’re back, okay?” There’s a pause before he adds, with a quiet sincerity. “I love you.”

“Yes, I'll call you and I love you too.” you reply, your voice warm and unwavering. “Bye!”

The line goes dead, and for a moment, Jungkook stays there, staring at the phone in his hand. The cabin is silent again, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating as before. You’ve always had a way of making the world feel a little lighter, and tonight is no exception.

//

The next day flies by in a haze of chatter, laughter, and shared moments as Jungkook spends most of his time with Namjoon and Namjoon's friends.

Despite the tension simmering beneath the surface, he doesn’t let Wooyoung or his friends’ antics claw their way under his skin. He’s determined not to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

By the next afternoon, he’s in Taehyung's car along with your cousins, Namjoon and Seokjin, driving home back from the port. The ride is filled with easy conversation and the occasional bout of laughter, a welcome distraction from the remnants of unease still lingering in his mind.

“Thanks for coming, Jungkook. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you.” Taehyung says, glancing over at Jungkook from the driver's seat, his expression apologetic. “You know how it is... my friends were dragging me everywhere.”

“It’s all good, man.” Jungkook replies with a grin. “And I totally get it. It was your bachelor party, after all.” he adds. Taehyung laughs, the sound light and carefree. “Still, I wish I could've spent more time with my sister's boyfriend.”

The familiar sight of your house comes into view not long after as Taehyung zooms past the long driveway, and Jungkook feels a wave of relief wash over him. Exhaustion tugs at his limbs, but more than anything, a quiet longing stirs in his chest. All he wants right now is to see you.

After bidding the others goodbye and hauling his luggage inside, he heads straight to your room. Your flight should be landing any time now. He checks his phone absentmindedly, hoping for a message or a call to signal your return and for now, all he can do is wait.

//

Miyeon giggles as she stretches her arms, stepping out of the car. “Most healing bachelorette party ever.” she declares, a dreamy expression on her face.

“I can still feel my masseuse’s hands on me. I don’t know what magic she used, but it feels like my back and shoulders have been reborn.” she exhales. You laugh as the guards step forward to collect your luggage. “Honestly, same. I want to go back just to get that massage again.”

As the guards carry your bags towards the house, you follow Miyeon inside, the faint chatter of voices growing louder the deeper you go. Your heels click softly against the marble floor as you both approach the lounge, as familiar voices draw your attention.

You peek inside and instantly smile. Seokjin is hunched over the billiards table, holding his cue stick with a dramatic level of precision. Namjoon stands to the side, visibly exasperated, one hand holding his cue stick against the floor while his other hand rests on his hip as he watches Seokjin line up a shot.

“Look Namjoon...” Seokjin drawls, his tone a mix of amusement and condescension. “You're supposed to stand like this. Your posture is a disgrace to billiards.”

Namjoon groans, running a hand through his hair. “Hyung, my posture isn’t the problem. The problem is you’re cheating.”

“Cheating?!” Seokjin straightens, feigning deep offense. “Excuse me, I play with honor and integrity. You, on the other hand, couldn’t aim if your life depended on it.” he shrugs.

“You’re just salty because your aim’s been off the entire game." Namjoon fires back. “Watch. I’m about to sink three balls in one shot.”

“Sure.” Taehyung interjects from his spot by the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey casually. “And when you miss, Jin hyung will find a way to roast you for the next hour.”

You and Miyeon exchange amused glances, both of you shaking your heads as the banter continues. Namjoon leans over the table dramatically, his cue stick angled as though he’s about to make the shot of the century.

Seokjin watches him like a hawk, ready to pounce on any mistake. Taehyung simply sips his drink, muttering something under his breath about “hopeless competitors.”

As you approach them, your thoughts wander. Despite the comfort of home and the familiarity of these voices, a part of you feels incomplete. Your eyes sweep the room once more, subtly searching for your boyfriend.

You’re desperate to see him, to feel his arms around you, to close the unbearable distance that’s stretched between you these past two days.

Somehow, two days have felt like an eternity. You’ve replayed every text and call in your mind, but nothing compares to having him here, tangible, in front of you.

“Oh my god, baby...” Taehyung is the first to notice the two of you approaching. Without missing a beat, he sets his glass of whiskey down on the bar and strides forward, pulling Miyeon into a warm hug. “You guys are back!” he exclaims, his smile wide and genuine as he steps back to take a good look at both of you.

You can’t help but grin at him, waving at Namjoon and Seokjin, who have momentarily paused their game of billiards to acknowledge your arrival.

After a few exchanges of pleasantries and brief chatter about the island trip, you finally ask the question that’s been burning on your mind. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh, he’s up in your room. He seemed a bit tired.” Namjoon answers. Your lips part slightly as you nod. “Okay then. I’ll go to him. You guys enjoy yourselves.” you say, offering a warm smile before hugging everyone. Turning on your heels, you exit the lounge and begin making your way towards the staircase.

Just when you're in the middle of ascending the stairs, a voice interrupts you. “Y/N!”

You glance over your shoulder at the sound of your name, only to see Namjoon trailing behind you, his steps hesitant. His expression holds something you can’t quite decipher, like he’s battling with his own thoughts.

“Joonie?” you say, your voice laced with curiosity and just a hint of concern as you watch him climb the stairs to meet you.

“Hey...” he breathes out, stopping a step below yours, his gaze briefly dropping to the floor before he looks at you. His hesitation sends a ripple of unease through you.

“What’s up, Joonie??” you ask gently, studying his face for clues. The slight tension in his shoulders, the way he exhales like he’s carrying a weight he’s unsure he should share, it all sets your nerves alight.

“Y/N…” he begins, pausing as if choosing his next words carefully. “I’ve been debating whether to tell you this, but…” He trails off, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. You take a step closer, your heart beginning to pound. “Joonie?? Is everything okay??"

He sighs deeply, the sound heavy and conflicted. “Well.. It’s about Jungkook...”

The mention of your boyfriend immediately tightens something in your chest. “What happened to Jungkook?” you ask quickly, your voice rising with worry.

Namjoon hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “He didn’t want me to tell you this... but…” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t feel right to keep this from you. You should know.”

Your stomach churns, dread blooming in your chest. “Know what? What happened?” you ask again.

Namjoon looks away for a moment, as though gathering the courage to speak, before his eyes meet yours again. “It started at the bar… Wooyoung approached him. He said some things... about your past... about how your mom wanted... you and Wooyoung to get married.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Namjoon presses on, his voice tinged with anger. “But it didn’t stop there. Wooyoung’s friends... well.. they went after Jungkook. They trashed his cabin... broke his camera... spray-painted some cruel things on the wall.” He pauses, his jaw tightening.

“They did what?” you ask, disbelief dripping from your voice. This was the last thing you ever expected to hear. Your chest tightens painfully as the weight of Namjoon’s words settles in. Jungkook had endured all of this alone and you hadn’t had the slightest clue.

And of course, knowing him you understand why he didn't want this to reach you. And somehow that breaks your heart and fills you with guilt, especially because he found out about something you’d been carefully waiting for the right moment to tell him. The layers of emotions overwhelm you, each more suffocating than the last.

“Why... why was Wooyoung even on that cruise?” you ask, your voice rising with frustration now, the disbelief giving way to simmering anger. Namjoon raises his hands quickly in defense. “Hey, That's on Jin Hyung.” he says.

"But anyways, I really thought you should know this." His voice softens as he continues. “Jungkook seemed pretty shaken up by it, even though he tried not to show it. So… please, just take care of him.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. The gratitude you feel for Namjoon is momentary, overshadowed by the urgency now coursing through your veins. Without wasting another second, you turn on your heel and dash up the stairs, heading towards your room.

//

Jungkook smiles to himself as he rests on the pillow, scrolling through the videos you'd sent him over the past two days. His chest warms as he watches a clip of you playing with two cats on the island, your laughter echoing softly through the speaker.

The way your nose scrunches in delight makes his heart flutter, and he giggles quietly, his thumb hovering over the replay button. "Where are you?" he mutters under his breath with a wistful sigh, the corners of his lips still tugged into a smile.

And just like magic, the door to your room suddenly bursts open with a loud bang. He jumps slightly, his phone nearly slipping from his hand. Before he can even process your sudden arrival, you’re bolting towards him.

Jungkook barely has time to sit up straight before you fling yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around him with a ferocity that nearly knocks the breath out of his lungs.

“Baby—” he starts, his voice laced with confusion and concern, but you cut him off before he can finish. “I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of your mouth in a shaky breath, muffled as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Your hold on him tightens. “I’m sorry. Namjoon told me everything. I’m sorry about Wooyoung, I’m sorry about his friends, I’m sorry about your cabin, I’m sorry about your camera…” Your voice breaks slightly as you ramble, the guilt pouring out of you in waves.

Jungkook exhales deeply, and you feel the tension in his body ease as his arms come around you, his hands resting gently on your back. He holds you close, rubbing soothing circles against your spine.

“Is this how you’re going to greet me after spending two whole days in Jeju?” he teases, his voice light with humor, though you can hear the warmth beneath it. “What happened to ‘hi, hello, I missed you?’”

Despite the joking tone, the tender way Jungkook rubs your back anchors you. You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet warmth that seems to steady your unraveling thoughts.

“I’m really sorry, Kook.” you repeat, your voice trembling as you try to convey the depth of your regret.

He shakes his head gently, his hand leaving your back to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Baby, why are you apologizing for something you had no control over?” he asks, his tone light but earnest. “You’re not responsible for what Wooyoung or his friends did.”

“I should’ve told you about him...” you admit, your voice low, almost wavering. “About us, our past… everything. I should've been honest.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The simple gesture makes your chest tighten with emotion, grounding you in a way that words can’t.

When he pulls back, his gaze is steady but contemplative. “Baby...” he starts carefully, his voice softer now. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod instantly, your heart thudding. “Of course. Anything.” you say. He hesitates, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes making your stomach churn. “Why didn’t you... why didn't ever you tell me about your family?” he asks at last, the question laced with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

Your breath hitches at the question, and for a moment, you feel exposed. But a part of you knew this was coming. You knew that hiding your life from Jungkook and then unveiling it all on a random Thursday would inevitably lead to this moment.

“It's just…” You pause, your voice wavering as you try to find the right words, your eyes searching his face for reassurance. “Kook, when we first met... you had no idea who I was or who my family was and... you were just so... so different from all the men I grew up with.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, his gaze steady, waiting for you to continue. Instead, you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, his silent way of encouraging you to speak your truth.

“You were this bright, passionate man with these beautiful, expressive eyes and that gorgeous, dreamy smile...” you begin, your voice trembling as a fond smile tugs at your lips.

“And for the first time in forever, I felt like I could just… breathe around someone. With you, I didn’t have to be this polished or poised woman who had to fit into some high-class society mold. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else... because being myself around you... was just... so easy, without having to worry about where I came from and who my family was.”

Your thumb gently traces over the faint scar on his cheek, a gesture so intimate it makes his heart jump. His gaze softens, melting into yours as if you're the only person in the world. “You just... liked me for me. Not because of my family, my connections, or my status, but because of who I was with you. You saw me... the real me... when I didn’t even know how to see myself.”

Your voice falters slightly, but you don’t look away, letting him see the emotion in your eyes. “I know it was selfish of me... but I... so badly wanted to hold on to that feeling... the feeling of being loved in a way that felt so… pure." you pause, a shallow breath escaping your lips.

" I just… I just I didn’t know how to tell you about that part of me...”

Jungkook listens intently, his expression softening even more as your words sink in. Slowly, he tugs you closer, pulling you into his warm embrace. You feel his heartbeat steady against your own, his presence grounding you in a way only he can.

“Baby...” he whispers, his voice low as his fingertips trail soothing patterns along your back. “For me, it’s always been you. It always will be you. None of that other stuff matters... your family, your status, your class... they’re just parts of you that I’ll embrace because they make up the woman I love. But beyond all that, I love you for you.”

His voice dips into something deeper, more vulnerable. “And I’m glad I could bring out the real you. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and it’s an honor to be able to experience that side of you." he hugs you tighter, before continuing.

"You have no idea how my world has changed ever since you entered it. You make everything... brighter and just... more bearable. You make it all make sense. So thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

Your eyes well up as you close them, leaning into his embrace. The warmth of his words, paired with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feels like the safest place you’ve ever known. “Thank you for coming into my life too.” you breathe out, voice thick with emotion.

After a beat of silence, you pull back slightly. “But I’m still sorry about Wooyoung. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, I swear—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he shakes his head. “There’s no need for that. Let’s just forget it happened, okay?”

You pout, reluctant to let it go, but his soft, reassuring expression makes you falter. “Fine...” you huff, a sigh escaping your lips. “Still...” you murmur, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his collar. “I’m sorry, Kook. Thank you... for always being so understanding. I truly don’t deserve you.”

He shakes his head, the faintest hint of exasperation softened by the smile tugging at his lips. "You deserve the world, baby. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

A soft giggle escapes you, the light in his eyes mirrored by the smile that refuses to leave your lips. “I love you.” you whisper, the words filled with every ounce of emotion you’ve been holding in.

His toothy smile, the one that always makes your heart flutter, breaks across his face. “I love you too.” he replies.

And just like that, as if drawn by an unspoken force, he leans in, capturing your lips with his. The warmth of his kiss washes over you, soothing every ache, every worry, and filling you with a certainty that everything is exactly as it’s meant to be.

//

"Do we get to eat them ??" Jungkook asks, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes following your reflection in the mirror as you brush your hair. A giggle escapes your lips at his eager tone. “Of course, baby. You can eat all of them if you want to.” you reply, shooting him a playful grin.

With the wedding just around the corner, the house is bustling with preparations, but today feels different. Your grandma insisted on gathering everyone to make dumplings for the rehearsal dinner that's coming up.

You and Jungkook make your way to the dining room, the air filled with the warm aroma of freshly prepared ingredients. The large table is the centerpiece of the room, and as soon as you step inside, the sight of your family fills you with comfort and joy.

Taehyung and Seokjin are already deep in their dumpling-making attempts, though it's clear they’ve caused more chaos than progress.

Both of them have flour smeared across their faces like war paint, a result of what must’ve been an enthusiastic but poorly thought-out experiment.

“Hyung, that dumpling looks like a deflated balloon.” Taehyung teases Seokjin, holding up his creation for comparison. Seokjin huffs, rolling his eyes. “At least mine isn’t oozing out stuffing like yours, Tae. What are you making? A dumpling that's throwing up?”

“Call it modern art, Hyung.” Taehyung retorts, grinning mischievously as he tosses a bit of flour at Seokjin, who gasps dramatically. “Yah! Taehyung, do you want me to dump this entire bowl of stuffing on your head?” Seokjin warns, clearly frustrated.

Across the table, Namjoon and Miyeon work with quiet precision, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Namjoon occasionally sneaks a glance at the chaos brewing between Taehyung and Seokjin, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“You two are worse than toddlers.” he quips, not looking up from his perfectly shaped dumpling. “At this rate, we're all gonna finish a hundred dumplings before you guys finish ten.”

Miyeon chuckles, her hands deftly sealing another dumpling. “Joon's right. How are you both so bad at this? It’s not rocket science.”

Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me, babe, I don't know if you've noticed but Jin hyung is literally sabotaging me!” he exclaims. “I’m the one sabotaging you?” Seokjin laughs incredulously. “Look at my face, Tae. I look like a ghost, thanks to you!”

Namjoon’s mom, your favorite aunt, sits at the far end of the table as she rolls the dough into perfect circles, her laughter ringing like a bell.

“Boys, boys...” she interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “Stop fighting and focus on your dumplings. Otherwise, your future kids will hear stories about how their dads couldn’t make dumplings to save their lives.”

Everyone bursts out laughing at her comment, even Taehyung and Seokjin, who share a sheepish grin before returning to their task.

As you and Jungkook approach the group, everyone greets the two of you with warm smiles. Jungkook pulls out a chair for you to sit, earning a scrunch of your nose in fondness at the sweet gesture. After you’re settled, he takes the seat beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours under the table.

"So, I see Tae and Jin are already setting records... for failure...” you quip, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you glance at the disfigured dumplings piled in front of them. “Hey, those are Tae’s!” Seokjin protests, pushing forward another plate of equally disastrous dumplings. “Mine look way better, see?”

“Ah, yes.” you reply with mock solemnity, inspecting the plate. “Such fine craftsmanship. Truly an expert.” you giggle.

Everyone bursts into laughter and so does Jungkook, his eyes crinkling as he takes in the scene. He looks around, marveling at the tender warmth that surrounds your family.

“Okay, watch closely everyone...” you suddenly announce, picking up a perfect circle of dough. “The secret to making a good dumpling is love. And also, not being like Taehyung.” you grin.

“Hey!” Taehyung protests, earning another round of laughter. You press on, your tone turning exaggeratedly instructive.

“First, you scoop just the right amount of stuffing... not too much, or it’ll explode like Tae’s modern art pieces.” You hold up a small spoonful of filling, placing it precisely in the center of the dough. Jungkook observes your actions, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“Next, you fold it in half, like you’re tucking it in for a nap. Be gentle, it’s delicate.”

Jungkook leans in closer, watching intently as your fingers press the edges together. “Then, you join the edges, like this... pinch... pinch... pinch.” you continue, your fingers deftly creating a neat, ruffled pattern. “Think of it as accessorizing your dumpling... it needs to be cute, you know?”

“Wow...” Jungkook murmurs, his voice full of awe. “You’re like the Michelangelo of dumplings.” he giggles. “Please.” you reply with a dramatic shrug. “I’m just a humble dumpling artist.”

Emboldened, Jungkook picks up his own piece of dough, determination written all over his face. “Alright, let me try. Scoop... fold.... pinch, pinch, pinch… done!” He holds up his quick creation triumphantly. You glance at it and press your lips together to stifle a laugh.

“Hmm....” you say, tilting your head. “Looks like your dumpling had a very long night.” you tease as the rest of the table laughs. “It’s rustic.” Jungkook counters, grinning despite himself. “Rustic indeed.” you tease, your laugh mingling with his.

As Jungkook continues fumbling with the dough, his brow furrowed in concentration, he glances around the lively table and decides to engage. “So, did you guys do this even as kids?” he asks, his voice light and curious as eyes dart between you, Taehyung and your cousins.

Before anyone can respond, the mood shifts. Your mother strides into the room, carrying a fresh tray of stuffing. Jungkook’s posture stiffens instinctively as her gaze briefly locks with his.

Her expression is impassive... polite on the surface but brimming with subtle tension. She sets the tray down and takes a seat directly across from the two of you, her movements precise and deliberate.

“Hi, Mama.” you greet warmly, your voice bright as you flash her a quick smile. She returns it with practiced ease but doesn’t linger, her attention quickly shifting to the task at hand. Her eyes flick to Jungkook, assessing him with a glance that’s colder than he’d prefer. He swallows hard, the discomfort settling in his chest like a heavy stone.

“It was more like we didn’t have a choice.” Namjoon pipes up, steering the conversation back to Jungkook’s question. His teasing tone earns chuckles from Seokjin and Taehyung, who nod in agreement.

“Exactly.” your aunt chimes in, shooting Namjoon an exaggerated glare. "We taught you, so you'd know the blood, sweat and tears it took to raise and feed you monkeys." she says as everyone laughs. Jungkook smiles faintly, grateful for the distraction, though the unease lingers.

The past few days at your family’s home had been a mix of warmth and tension for him. While the rest of your family had embraced him easily, your mother’s guarded demeanor made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. He’s done his best to stay out of her way, but now, sitting face-to-face, her disapproval is palpable.

“If we don’t pass down traditions like this, they’ll disappear.” your mother says suddenly, her voice cutting through the chatter. She folds the dough around a perfect mound of stuffing, her movements sharp and efficient. Without lifting her eyes from her work, she continues. “I’m sure you find all of this unusual.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and Jungkook feels the weight of her unspoken judgment. “They don’t teach things like this in the West, do they?” she continues, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes are cool, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.

The room falls silent, the cheerful chatter replaced by thick tension. Jungkook swallows, unsure how to respond while you shift in your seat, your breath hitching at the unwanted confrontation. Before you can step in, Seokjin's voice breaks the silence.

“Grandma!” he exclaims, leaping to his feet as your grandmother enters the room. He strides towards her with exaggerated enthusiasm, offering his arm. “You’re finally here!”

Grateful for the distraction, everyone rises to greet her respectfully. Her presence is like a balm, soothing the room’s strained energy. She smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she takes in the bustling scene.

“Y/N-ah...” she says, her gaze landing on you before shifting to Jungkook. “You brought Jungkook too.” Her smile widens as she inches closer to him, her hand lifting to cup his cheek gently. “Hello, sweetheart.” she says, her voice warm and affectionate.

Jungkook bows slightly, his lips curving into a polite smile. “Hello, Grandma.” he replies softly, the tension in his chest easing under her kind gaze.

As everyone settles back into their seats, your grandmother sits at the head of the table, near your mother, her sharp eyes scanning the dumplings in front of her. “Did you make those?” she asks lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Your mother forces out a stiff smile. “Yes, Ma.” she replies. “Hmm.” your grandmother hums thoughtfully, inspecting the dumplings more closely. “It seems you’ve lost your touch.” she adds.

Jungkook notices the way your mother’s jaw tightens, her forced smile barely hiding the undercurrent of irritation. “I’ll do better.” she replies, her voice taut, the words clipped as if forcing themselves out.

It’s a subtle moment, so fleeting it slips past everyone else in the room, including you. But Jungkook catches it. The way her fingers pause ever so slightly over the dumpling she’s shaping, the sharp edge in her tone... it all lingers in the air, faint yet telling.

Just as he processes what he’s seen, your mother’s gaze suddenly snaps up, meeting his. Jungkook’s eyes widen instinctively, caught off guard by her piercing stare. Her expression shifts in an instant, the forced warmth melting away to reveal a sour look that seems to pin him in place.

In that split second, Jungkook realizes... she knows he saw it.

Not wanting to overstep or make things worse he quickly averts his eyes, pretending to focus on the dumpling in his hands. He swallows hard, willing himself to appear unaffected, as though he hadn’t just witnessed the moment.

But the unease remains. He can feel her gaze lingering on him for a second longer before she looks away, her mask of politeness slipping back into place.

Jungkook exhales softly, his shoulders tight as he resumes his task. He glances at you, wondering if you’ve noticed anything, but you’re too engrossed in folding the dumplings to sense the silent exchange.

Still, the weight of your mother's reaction stays with him. For the first time, he wonders if your mother’s reservations aren’t just about him but about something deeper, something unresolved within her.

//

As Jungkook steps out of the dining room, the faint smell of flour and spices still clinging to his hands, he glances around, searching for the washroom. Despite having spent days at your house, he still finds the maze-like layout disorienting. The grand size of the place only adds to his sense of displacement.

He sighs in mild frustration, realizing he’s turned down the wrong hallway yet again. Just as he’s about to retrace his steps, he notices someone approaching from the other end. His stomach sinks slightly as he recognizes your mother.

She seems preoccupied as she carefully dusts her dress. Jungkook freezes instinctively, his smile faltering as she nears. Though he musters up a polite smile when she looks up, she doesn’t return it.

As the silence stretches and her gaze lingers on him, Jungkook decides to break the tension. “I’m…” he begins, clearing his throat nervously. “I’m a little lost.” he admits with an awkward laugh, gesturing vaguely towards the hallway behind him.

Your mother stops a few feet away, her arms crossed loosely. Her expression is unreadable, though Jungkook can feel the weight of her scrutiny. “This house can be... confusing.” she replies, her tone neutral but edged with something unspoken.

Jungkook nods quickly, eager to agree. “Yeah, definitely. I thought I had it figured out, but I keep ending up in the wrong place.” He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

She studies him for a moment longer before sighing quietly. “The washroom is down that way.” she curtly says, pointing towards the opposite hall.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Jungkook says, his tone earnest. He hesitates for a moment, feeling the urge to say something more... something to break the wall between them. “Also... I… I just really wanted to thank you..." he starts and your mother's brows furrow, trying to understand where this is coming from.

Jungkook notices her confusion and decides to press on, his voice tentative yet earnest. “For, um… for letting me stay here. I know it can’t be easy, having someone new around. But I just… I really appreciate it.” he says, his words measured yet sincere.

She studies him for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curls one corner of her lips. “It isn’t easy.” she admits, her tone steady, though there’s an edge to it that makes him slightly uneasy.

“But, surprisingly…” she begins, stepping a little closer, her expression unreadable. “I see myself in you.” she says. Jungkook blinks, unsure how to respond. He waits, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“Y/N’s grandmother...” she continues, her voice calm. “She was never accepting of me. When Y/N’s father told her he wanted to marry me… well, let’s just say it was far from a warm approval.”

Her gaze locks onto Jungkook’s, her eyes sharp and unwavering. “I wasn’t her first choice. And, honestly...” she chuckles dryly, though the sound lacks humor. “I wasn’t her second either.”

Jungkook’s expression softens as understanding starts to dawn, the earlier interaction between her and your grandmother now making more sense. “Gosh… I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” he says quickly, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

She acknowledges his apology with a small smile, though her gaze remains cold, unyielding. “I didn’t come from the right family, didn’t have the right connections. To her, I wasn’t an adequate match for her son.” she explains.

“But… she eventually came around, right?” Jungkook asks cautiously, his tone tinged with hope. She exhales, the sound heavy with years of pent-up emotion.

“It took many years.” she admits, nodding faintly. “She had her reasons... valid ones, even. But I worked hard, sacrificed more than I ever thought I could. Eventually, she saw how much traditions and family mattered to me, and maybe that earned her respect. But...” she pauses, her faint smile turning somber. “There were many days when I wondered if I’d ever truly measure up.”

Jungkook listens intently, his chest tightening with a newfound appreciation for the struggles your mother seemed to have endured.

“And having lived through all of that...” she begins again, her voice lower now, each word carrying weight. “I know one thing for certain...”

She takes another step closer, her presence suddenly oppressive. Her smile twists into something darker, a faint smirk with a sharp edge that sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine.

“You will never be enough.”

<- part 4

series masterlist

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas

[dat-town]

wanna be yours

Characters: down bad!Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: friends to lovers, college au

Summary: Just Taesan going through it with his crush on you.

Warnings: stage names used, alcohol consumption (beer), shooting-related words but in laser tagging context, light swearing

Words: 3.6k

Author’s note: title from the arctic monkeys’ song aka the ultimate down bad song

@restlessmaknae, the thing is i needed something lighter after all that angst and i wanted to wish you merry xmas with something light and happy because i wish you all the best for the next year as well! i am so so proud of you and i told you that this year's time apart would be a preparation for next year! you won't get rid of me this easy though. love you, always! <3

It’s pathetic, really, Taesan thinks, when he immediately perks up as the pizza place’s door opens and he hears your laughter. He makes sure to mask his expression and with conscious effort at least he manages to relax his posture, melting into the fake leather seat of the corner diner before you get to the table.

Jaehyun greets everybody at the table loudly like always, with enthusiasm and no shame that Taesan could never phantom. You follow in suit, much less conspicuous, a wave and an easy smile, sliding into the booth right next to Sungho’s girlfriend. Taesan pretends to check something on his phone but he couldn’t even recall the time read on his screen because when he looks back up, he catches Hyein whisper something into your ear and you look up, straight at him with a smile tugging on the corner of your rosy, shiny mouth. Taesan briefly wonders about the taste of your gloss and if your lips are as soft as they look. Then he blinks and snaps out of it.

Embarrassment makes him flush anyway because please god, let it not be about him, whatever shit Hyein shared. Still, he tries to play it cool and instead of looking away like a coward, like how his first instinct is, he makes a show of raising an eyebrow in question as if taunting, challenging you. Hopefully, he manages to preserve his cool image this way.

What, he mouths and you silently giggle, eyes turning into crescents.

I will tell you later, you whisper back and Taesan hopes relief doesn’t flood his features. It wasn’t about him then.

You order a banana shake with choco chip cookies, your usual, because of course Taesan knows that. He knows an embarrassing amount of your likes for someone who is ‘not interested’ as he has been trying to convince Leehan almost as long as you have known each other.

Taesan still remembers how you came into his life: how quick, with a smile, like a breeze on a scorching summer day. Jaehyun invited you to this house party at his and Sungho’s place because of course, you were one of those friends Jaehyun made along the way with his ridiculously extroverted personality. It was a small flat, too small for so many people and Taesan was starting to regret deciding on this particular gray tee because he could feel sweat dripping down his neck. He needed some fresh air, so he stepped out to the balcony but you were already there nursing your cheap beer.

“Hey,” you turned to him with a smile, bright and friendly, and he just awkwardly stood there not sure whether he should have gone back and left you alone or that would have made things worse. “Taesan, right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, still hovering by the door even though you didn’t seem bothered by his presence. He was just never really good at interacting with new people. Especially girls, more specifically pretty girls.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself as if Jaehyun didn’t make sure previously to make it known like the loud nosy friend he was.

“I know,” Taesan nodded, having no idea what else to say. You didn't seem to mind as you just tilted your head with an amused smile and a quiet hum. Then you casually fixed your plaid shirt’s collar and Taesan, following your movements, noticed the graphic tee design underneath that overruled all his introvert tendencies.

“Oh. You like Nirvana too?” He blurted out, his music geek ass crawling out of his cave.

“Yeah, I grew up listening to my father’s LPs and CDs a lot,” you nodded and it broke the dam. You two still talked about favourite bands and songs, concerts you’ve been to and ones on your bucket lists when Sungho found you at 2AM and ushered you inside.

It could have been the start of something but Taesan isn’t delusional. You got along quickly with everybody, he isn’t anything special. You are easygoing and charming, of course everybody likes you and of course, you had a boyfriend. At least in the few months of your acquaintance you had. Taesan actually realized how screwed he was when he heard about your breakup and his first thought was how you deserved better, somebody who supported you and your interests unlike your snob ex. Maybe somebody like him.

The boy suddenly feels a light kick against his shin and it snaps him out of his thoughts. He’s ready to scowl at whoever thought it was funny to do that but then he catches the mischief in your eyes and his annoyance almost immediately disappears as he shares a look with you over the table, ignoring everybody else. Oh yeah, he’s so gone. He hopes he’s subtle enough though because he would sooner dig his own grave than have his friends tease him for his crush.

Taesan might be a masochist because he can’t make himself push you away. He’s generally good at keeping people an arm-length’s away. He’s reserved enough for people to think he’s not interested and they don’t bother to get to know him better. It has never seemed to be a problem for you, ever since that night you keep finding ways to him. You exchange music recommendations, complain about professors and assignments, laugh at Jaehyun’s scaredy cat ass during haunted house night. He listens to you talk about the pressure of being a good enough daughter for your high standard parents and how falling out of love felt; and you listen to his songs.

Maybe it’s your willing vulnerability that prompted Taesan to show you his music. He’s usually beyond cagey with his compositions, he doesn’t even show them to Jaehyun and Woonhak until they are perfect or well, good enough according to his own perfectionist taste which is almost the same and those two share the studio with him! He’s snappy whenever somebody disturbs him during his producing sessions but if that somebody is you? He pulls his claws back immediately, his rough edges softening.

His heartbeat goes haywire whenever you show up in the studio and playfully pull the headphones off his head, checking the music out for yourself, nodding along to the beats. At least then he can watch you closely for your expressions, using his curiosity as an excuse why he’s staring and it’s part of the reason too, so it’s not exactly a lie. He wonders whether you like it, whether you can guess that all his lovesick lyrics recently are about you. He hopes you don’t, he hopes you do.

It’s an uneventful Tuesday night when he’s deep in thought about rhymes that don’t make sense and metaphors that feel forced and just nothing sounds right. When the door to his studio opens quietly, for once he’s almost glad for the disturbance. He turns around in time to see you sneak into the studio, holding a convenience store plastic bag above your head as if it was a humble offering, a white flag.

“I brought ice cream,” you explain with a beaming smile and Taesan is not one to say no to a free late night snack. He doesn’t answer, too starstruck by sight of you in an oversized hoodie, all soft and cuddly, which you take as a good sign and slip further inside, closing the door behind you.

“You didn’t answer my texts, so I guessed you’re here,” you muse out loud as you sit down on the extra chair next to his, offering him a plastic-wrapped popsicle, then unwrapping another one yourself.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, unplugging his phone from the charger to check on the missed texts from his friends before picking on the colourful wrapper.

“It’s okay. I know how you get when you’re in the zone,” you smile sweetly and gosh, how can you be so perfect?

Taesan’s breath hitches when you inch closer, your shoulder pressing into his arm as you take a closer look at the computer screen, at the audio software he uses even though you probably don’t understand what’s going on there.

“New song?” You ask, genuine curiosity in your bright voice, so Taesan hums and tells you that he’s stuck on the chorus. You know nothing about music but he lets you listen anyway because at this point he’s desperate for any pointers and well, he’s weak for you, so it’s not like he could say no to those sparkling eyes.

He plays the half-finished song for you once, picking on the skin around his fingernails in the meantime from the nerves, the popsicle melting in his other hand.

The too big headphones are still on you when you turn to him with the most beautiful, beaming smile ever when the audio file ends in a hundred seconds that has never felt so long.

“It’s so good! Seriously, how can you come up with lyrics like this? And that melody in the beginning? So catchy!” You exclaim, taking the mouse out of his hand, fingers brushing, just to rewind the audio to the beginning and play it again. This time you’re humming along with it, eyes half closed, fingers drumming on the desk. You look so immersed and so enthusiastic that Taesan can feel his heart ache in a way he’s not sure is healthy.

“There could be more instruments in the chorus to make it stand out more but I like it a lot,” you say when you finish your second listen and give him back both the headphone and the control over the computer before you nudge his side playfully.  “You’re such a romantic.”

“Am not,” Taesan objects hurriedly, his ears already reddening. Gosh, if you knew that it’s you who’s making him sprout out all these lines about jittery nerves around a crush and wanting to watch the stars together.

It’s hard sitting still, so close that your knee brushes against his sometimes; it’s hard to concentrate on your questions when your floral scent envelops him; it’s hard not to lean closer, to close the gap and kiss the melting vanilla ice cream off your lips.

Shit, woah.

Taesan sucks in a breath and rolls his chair backwards, away from you. You look at him with furrowed brows in confusion, so cute and unaware of your effect on him that he swears you’ll be the death of him.

Summer days seem endless and Taesan makes some regrettable choices in the name of fashion. But as a proud believer of no weather being too hot for black clothes, he cannot back down.

“Aren’t you hot?” You lean closer to talk over the loud music and Taesan immediately feels warmer. If he was Jaehyun, he would make a joke out of it, asking if you found him hot with wiggled eyebrows but he’s not that shameless.

“Nah, I’m good,” instead he lies through his teeth. You shot him a look of disbelief and shrug, looking back to the stage, moving to the beat of music, jumping around, having fun.

“I’m back!” Woonhak raises the bag of drinks in the air like they were some kind of reward and honestly, Taesan has never been so relieved to get a cup of iced Americano.

“What took you so long?” He grumbles though as he tries to cool off with the cold drink.

“Yah, the line was crazy long. Next time you can go,” the younger complains and gets immediately babied by Hyein who definitely spoils him too much.

The next splash of water reaches their group and Sungho shrieks the loudest as he gets soaked while you giggle in your already see-through tee. You have a bikini underneath but still, Taesan has this urge to cover you up. He knows it’s silly, the entire purpose of this event is to get wet in the summer heat but he can’t help it, not when you sing along with some random kpop boy group on the stage. He doesn’t even know why he agreed to come, it’s really not his scene. Sure, he loves music but the water bomb festival isn’t exactly his typical concert experience.

Five minutes later he gives up and slides off his overshirt, tying it around his waist.

“You have moles here,” you point out suddenly and Taesan looks at you a little dumbfounded.

“What?”

“Moles. Here. It’s cute,” you say with an endeared smile and poke his bicep right above the birthmark which is revealed now that he’s only in his sleeveless tee.

Taesan can feel his ears burn and he wants to laugh. You did not just call his arms cute when he worked out in the gym to gain some muscle. But well, let’s look at the bright side: you seem to have meant it as a compliment and while he has never bothered with his moles, long accepting them as a part of him, now he starts to have a love-hate relationship with them because from then on you start poking his bicep just for the sake of it whenever he wears tank tops or t-shirts with shorter sleeves and it sends a flutter down his stomach every single time. He’s positively losing it.

On his birthday, the gang goes laser tagging. Unfortunately for him, you end up on a different team alongside Riwoo, Leehan and Woonhak. Honestly, with Sungho on his team, Taesan is pretty confident, the two of them tend to be the best in these kinds of games and he gets competitive anyway, so he swears he won’t go easy on you.

He even tries to shoot you in the back like a coward, so you wouldn’t get a chance to distract him but you duck at the last minute and avoid it. He starts chasing you then between the maze of neon-lit pillars but a sudden 180° turn of yours takes him by surprise and somehow it ends up with both of you on the ground with your body pressing against his. You push yourself up just enough to look down on him and lying on his back, momentarily breathless after the collision, Taesan swears he feels his soul leave his body because damn, you are beautiful. Your hair is messy, strands of it falling into your face, eyes dilated and shiny, burning with fierce passion.

He is distracted, he doesn’t even notice when you pick up your gun again, not until you shoot him in the chest, the echo of his vest’s switching off sound resonates off the walls. The hell.

“Cheater,” he mutters but with less bitterness than what he would have if it was anybody else.

“Says you,” you retort with a cheeky smile before getting ready to push yourself entirely up, ready to hunt down the rest of his group.

You don’t even make it to your feet though. Taesan pulls you down again with a grab on your wrist but this time he rolls the two of you around, so you are with your back on the floor and he’s the one hovering over you. He sneaks a hand under your head, protecting you from the impact as you look up at him with widened eyes. He feels breathless again and hopes he can blame it on the game.

“What on Earth are you guys doing?” Sungho’s sharp voice comes, seemingly oblivious to the tension around you and Taesan scrambles to his feet, offering you a hand which you take with a grin, the shadow of the previous look still present in your eyes. He doesn’t want to let go.

Later, there’s a cake and a cheesy toast from Jaehyun and you gift him an LP that he listens to over and over again.

Just before the summer ends, you all hang out together by the Han River, eating store-bought cheese tteokbokki and way too spicy ramen on the worn blankets. That’s when Taesan witnesses it: a guy asking you out just a few steps away within earshot when you are returning from your sweets errand.

It’s already been months since you broke up with your ex, so of course, you would want to move on, Taesan wouldn’t blame you nor does he blame the guy because you’re pretty and amazing, what’s not to like. But then you duck your head shyly, glance quickly towards the group that’s mostly unaware why you’re held back and for a moment your eyes meet.

Taesan quickly looks away, the loose threads of the blanket have never been so interesting.

“Ah, I’m flattered but actually, there’s someone I like.”

He hears your answer loud and clear and it breaks his brain. Do you like someone? Who and why didn’t he have no idea? Or maybe you just said that to nicely turn down the guy? Was he not your type? Wait, what kind of guys do you like? What…

He’s still thinking about it, his thoughts on overdrive, when you eventually leave, the group scattering across town after sunset, and he offers to walk you back to your place from the metro station. The air between you is heavy, not just from the humid summer air.

“Taesan?”

“Hm?” He whips his head your way, playing aloof.

“Tell me,” you prompt vaguely and he feels his heart drop. What if you know what has been plaguing his mind? What if you think he’s a weirdo?

“What?”

“You’re thinking too loud,” you explain with a shrug and a small smile playing on your lips. “What’s it about?”

Taesan doesn’t even think this time.

“You,” he blurts out without meaning to and he has half a mind to turn it into a joke, a teasing but you look so genuinely surprised that he can’t make himself.

“What about me?”

He can’t read you. Do you really not know?

“Everything.”

But mostly about how your bright personality and wide smile is like molten sunshine and that it’s unfair because he has always associated himself with the moon and there’s something tragic about being ill-fated from the beginning. About how crazy it is that you’re here asking that question as if there was any prolonged moment in your company when he was able to focus on something else that wasn’t you. About how much he would like to hold your hand and play with your more delicate fingers, pressing his lips to the pad of them, an action somehow more intimate than kissing itself.

But he doesn’t dare to even say that out loud, too afraid of messing up.

You chuckle at his nonsense answer anyways, flash him a shy smile and look away  and it’s in moments like this when Taesan lets himself wonder whether you feel differently about him too. Because he’s pretty sure friends don’t look at each other the way the two of you do. Or at least they’re not supposed to.

“Who is it?” He hisses as the question that has been scratching his throat stumbles out and he forces himself to act nonchalant about it, as if your words didn’t have the power to turn his world around. You look at him questioningly and Taesan takes a deep breath, refusing to back down like a total loser, so he clarifies: “The guy you like. Do I know him?”

“Oh,” you mumble, looking down, nerves acting up, and halt your steps. Taesan suddenly wants to take it back because you don’t have to tell him something like that, he’s being nosy and uncharacteristically clingy and… “Do you really want to know?”

Yes.

No.

He doesn’t even know. Because based on your reaction, you do like someone, it wasn’t just a white lie and he doesn’t know what to do with that. But he bites the bullet because it’s better to know than to wonder, he’s already driving himself crazy as is.

“Sure,” he shrugs and he’s being so fake he cringes at himself but at least your eyes are on him again. Shiny doe eyes he knows he will write into yet another song.

“What if it’s someone you don’t like?” You quirk a brow and Taesan has to consciously unclench his fingers. His throat feels tight, the summer air suffocating him.

“You don’t need my permission.”

“Not even if he’s very close to you?” You tilt your head, pouting.

“God, please tell me it’s not Leehan. He cares more about his fish than girls,” he exclaims dramatically, because he doesn’t really think that you would like his best friend since he hasn’t seen you hang out much and he needs to break this awkwardness somehow.

You laugh at his answer, harder than necessary because it wasn’t even that funny. You look at him like he should know already and it’s ridiculous because there’s still uncertainty and tension lingering in the space.

Then you step so close that you crowd into his space, push yourself to your tippy toes and peck him on the mouth. Brief and fleeting but so sweet Taesan feels the sugar rush go to his head. He almost forgets the topic you were on as his brain short circuits.

“Me?” He finds himself asking dumbly. “Really?”

It feels unreal, even with the soft pressure of your fingers curling in his shirt, you staying so close that your breathing fans against his chin.

“Really,” you nod, eyes full of wonder and amusement. Relief.

“Fuck,” Taesan swears under his breath as he slides a hand to your nape and leans down to kiss you properly. He feels your smile against his lips and he can already tell how your friends will get to know the news and that he wasn’t the one who confessed despite his year long crush but at that moment he doesn’t mind any future teasing. Because you like him and suddenly all the silly love songs about the firework-like kisses make sense.

[ravioliage]

I'm still not over the people who called the Veilguard crew unprofessional under my post then called the Inquisition team more professional and then made a post about how everyone in Inquisition is filled with liars.

Look I do hold love for the DAI crew but like, if I had them as coworkers for a world-ending event I think I would chew my arm off until the anchor is completely gone and leave them to their own devices.

Love them as people though. I do. But the problem with DAI is that only people you need to close the breach are Cassandra, Solas, Dorian depending on the route, and the Advisors. Rest of the team are nowhere as vital to the mission as the full Veilguard team is.

I think this is also the first BioWare game where every companion is insanely vital because all of them contribute something to success that would lead to critical mission failure if you hadn't recruited them. The one that comes closest second is Mass Effect 2. That game is one of my favorites of all time but it doesn't have moments like

1) Taash luring out the dragon with their expertise and offering vital information about how to deal with the dragons that are fucking shit up

2) Neve and Bellara teaming up to break Elgar'nan's Rook's #1 Simp Hold (and Bellara getting the fade bubble to come down, and Bellara repairing the Eluvian)

3) Despite how it ended, you needed Davrin to stab an Archdemon.

4) Lucanis, the best of the best assassins, stabbing Ghilan'Nain. No, your Rook doesn't come close to having the training for that.

5) Rook stuck in jail forever were it not having someone with insane fade expertise like Emmrichs

6) Harding being one of the reasons we even found Solas in the intro, and Warden contacts and more

And many more that would make this post way too long. ME2's thing was more "helping your companions unlocks upgrades for your ship that will ensure that people will avoid a brutal death on the way to the final boss, we know it's garbage, just go with it.". You can complete the game with all of your teammates dying and that's a major design flaw of that game imo.

Anyway if you think that wasn't clear in DAV, you probably played the game with a stream on another monitor. Or you suffer from insane Main Character Syndrome. Or both.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

As a person who was genuinely made uncomfortable when I discovered Viv does all this crap like 🍇-romantification, I appreciate this blog so far.

For months I've been trying not to interact with hazbin because of viv's actions, which genuinely makes me sad cause I really liked the show (not including episode 4).

I understand darker skin not suiting your style (like mine) or having trouble with different proportions of characters due to where they're from or something (like me) but the fact that she made all the bad guys that way really doesn't scream "I have trouble drawing ____!"

⚠️YOU ARE NOT REQUIRED TO REPLY OR READ FULLY⚠️

Hi! Totally get this all dw, I just got out of the hospital however so if I explain weird please forgive me 😬 also dont take all of this as me giving specifically you a lecture, this is just me letting my thoughts flow out to whoever is reading 🤝

Also theres leaks in this! If you people don’t want leaks be sure to not read past “read more”!!

Its been brought to my attention that the information in the next paragraph is not true and Vivzie did not design or draw these characters! So she apparently just actually can’t draw them at all

Viv has absolutely no problem drawing POC! I mean just look at the human designs for the succubi in Helluva boss

These designs are wonderful and very diverse! But out of these characters, the ones that are important are Verosika and Vortex and even then these characters are side characters. And on top of that, technically they’re only really coded as POC since these aren’t their true bodily forms, but hey thats a topic for another time. Let’s just ignore that for now and say they 100% are POC, they’re still side characters. She can draw POC wonderfully, she just has issues… making them important.

For characters like Alastor (who was only made POC to get away with demonising a closed religion) we don’t see him as his human form. I mean to be fair why would we- but also why did he turn white when he died?? Why did his entire hair texture change. This is a problem for Vivzie where she doesn’t want to commit to representation or feels she doesn’t need to. Vivzie could’ve made Alastor’s design look more like his leaked human design or couldve just altered his colours a bit, but she didn’t do this because she feels so connected to her original high school OC design that she cant bring herself to change him. Like look at this.

Yeah it’s got a different style, but this is the same guy; he’s just weirdly marketable now. It’s incredibly easy to tell that Vivzie didn’t want to change him if she didn’t 100% have to. Lets take a look at Alastor’s old human design.

This guy definitely looks like he could be Alastor! He’s got the same sort of hair but shorter in the back and a little more combed, but looking at this you can still tell it’s Alastor. However this guy doesn’t exactly seem mixed, right? That’s because he isn’t! Back way way in ye olden days when Alastor went from race ambiguous to white, he just kind of looked like that! And there’s no problem with him being white! Good for him on doing that! I guess!? But when you look his design now, things start to come off as a bit odd.

This is where you non-leakers go read somethin else

This is an entirely different person now. Not just race wise, but personality, the way he presents himself in the arts pose, and just overall the actual look of the character. He looks conniving yes, but he doesn’t look like Alastor. This is not a face matchup.

Now, you definitely can have your ugly little red thing design and still use that human one! You just have to not be too chicken to actually change your character so it makes sense. Let me demonstrate.

Shocking how easily this design can fit the human one while still maintaining the original aesthetic of the base design isn’t it! This Alastor looks like the provided new human design. If you don’t want the character to change, don’t change them physically. And if you do, follow through on it and don’t be a wimp. I don’t see whats so hard to grasp about that to this lady. If you want to keep that same ugly fucking bob then just keep him white. She literally only changed his race so she can use it as an excuse to appropriate vodou. Vivzie can draw POC, she just doesn’t want to when it comes to actually having to change a character. Anyway, good day!

[lesbiansforboromir]

Here's a more compact review of the War of the Rohirrim film for anyone interested! SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Positives;

The backgrounds were all very beautifully painted and the lighting really elevated the character design and smoothed over the janky animation. Where other aspects of the film fall off, often the background artistry and lighting over all of it still manages to convey a very dramatic and immersive moment to the viewer. It's probably the best part of the film.

The part where Helm's ice-ghost phase is teased was really cool and atmospheric and I got a little thrill of what I'd kind of always been wanting from this film.

Frealaf was pretty lovely (what little we got of him) and I appreciated that his darker skin tone was implicitely associated with his Gondorian heritage. I THINK I appreciate the idea that Frealaf's father was Gondorian, though I wish it had been better utilised.

I also really liked the moment where Helm is about to fight Freca and he gives his crown, signet ring and mantle over to Frealaf in this like... symbolic giving up of his Kingship in this moment where his actions are about to make him unworthy of it.

I appreciated Olwyn existing as an older female character in a purely action based roll.

Helm's voice actor and design were pretty cool, I came around to enjoying how much effort they put into making him extremely imposing.

Hama being a twink who was born to be a bard but forced to be a heroic second prince was a nice touch.

General Targg of Dunland might have been my favourite character, inspite of the fact that I am really curious to know where this organised military of Dunland is for him to reach the rank of 'General' in.

Negatives;

Gurl the racism. See here for more details.

The overall narrative seems to me direly lacking in like... basis. I am lead to believe Hera's journey is about her reclaiming her right to choose her own life for herself. But she is never actually pressured into any choice, nor does it appear that her father ever restricted her freedom in any way. So I don't really see where her choices were actually removed to such a degree. If her desire is to see her choices respected by the men in her life, well that never happens for either Helm nor Wulf, who force her to let them die or to kill them, respectively. It feels like in their rush to censor any negative aspects of Helm they kind of removed the reason Hera is frustrated in the first place, he cant be TOO much of a misogynist etc etc.

This is twisted up within 'gurl the racism' but Wulf's manner and presentation make me FEEL like he is a villain we are supposed to mildly feel for? We see him as a child, we see him struggle with what he's doing, we see his clear desperation and despair and hear him talk about loneliness and suffering... but at the end of the day in the way that it is presented Wulf is fundamentally foul and deluding himself and all his problems appear to be of his own making. In general it is extremely uncomfortable for the 'obsessive stalker' villain to also every now and then say 'I am devastated because of how my dunlending blood has been prejudiced against all my life by your family and the wider rohir society' like... by only him mentioning it but it never being actually acknowledged by anyone else it just comes across so shallow and unsettling.

This is a review from my book-biased perspective so understand it within that lense but still gurl... the lore. What the hell do you mean the eagles speak a language only a wizard can understand? No they can just speak! What do you mean there is A watcher in the water in some undisclosed lake in Rohan somewhere? There is one Watcher and it's name is very specific to the doomed Moria expedition! At least give this new squid fellow a rohir name. Speaking of!!

IS IT SO HARD TO NAME ROHIR CHARACTERS IN..... ROHIRRIC?? OLD ENGLISH IS RIGHT THERE... HERA HAS NO MEANING... THERE ARE SO MANY COOL HISTORICAL ANGLO SAXON PRINCESSES YOU COULD CHOOSE FROM...

Included in the 'gurl, the lore' segment but in need of it's own post so I will try to be brief; (Theoden voice) where was Gondor... when a herd of Mumakil were marched by Haradrim mercenaries across the Anduin, up through the Pelennor, across Calenadhon and over Rohan's southern border... did they sneak by... were they stealth Mumakil, did they have elven cloaks too.

But also Where Was Gondor just in general. Like to the detriment of the actual narrative, opening up plot holes that didn't even need to be there, the fact that Gondor is ALSO supposed to be at war right now is completely ignored and discarded.

THE BATTLE OF EDORAS... TF ARE YOU ALL DOING! Like I know it is kind of hypocritical of me to request sensible war tactics when we're adapting Tolkien, he did not give a good example, but like... where were the horse archers, why are you charging down an infantry-only army, why even be on a horse if you aren't going to use greater mobility to your advantage, this isn't a siege, this is YOUR territory this is an open field!! Come on! AND ANOTHER THING, did we really have to make the victory of the Dunlendings over Edoras so disconnected from their own effort? Like betrayal is fine, but this was also a well supplied and competant force, and that was a major part of their victory. These were matched combatants! Just kind of another way in which the dunlendings were robbed of any cohesive motive, narrative or skill.

To my admittedly untrained eye... the animation sucks? Like it's clunky and janky and you can see the frames transitioning between each other, the movements often feel awkward and a lot of the drawings are just bad! The Eagles are SO stiff, as are the horses which seems like a cardinal sin in the Horse Lord Film. And then I couple that with the multiple completely unnecessary spinning camera shots Hera gets which are annoying, superfluous and a bizarre thing to spend time on when the rest of the film needs so much more care and attention. In general the GULF of difference between how beautiful the backgrounds are vs how bland the character art is is kind of jarring.

Hera's design.... I hate it. Look I know it's anime but DID Hera have to have thigh high boots... did she really... Why is she so pale if she's supposedly riding sleeveless across the vast countryside everyday? Can a single supposedly feminist film about a 'wild' female protagonist let that woman be like... dirty, or not so agonisingly thin, or give her messy or god forbid short hair. At one point when she is grabbed by a troll and hung in the air they linger uncomfortably long on her ass which her costume design is specifically designed to allow for maximum viewing detail.

The designs of the Dunlendings, Haradrim and especially the Mumakil are all so grim. Like I liked Freca's design to a degree, it was more potent with symbolism and patterning and such, but the rest of it is just SO FUCKIN- well they're ugly! and therefore evil! Do you get it? The ugly grey animalistic people are evil! The Mumakil have literal red snake eyes just so you know they're 'evil animals'. I can't take it anymore, at one point the guy who Eomer throws a spear at in the trilogy just... turns up, like it's literally just him down to the facepaint. And speaking of...

SHUT UP ABOUT THE PJ TRILOGY, SHUT UP AB- besties this film's intro plays alongside the ring theme... THE RING MUSICAL THEME!!!!?? Lines from the films are reused so often and so WILDLY outside of their actual context and meaning that it makes me flinch.

There is a plump little fellow called Leif who is the royal Page I think and everytime someone called Freca fat in such a vitriolic way I was like wow... I mean Leif is right there guys!

Overall a 4/10 from me, it is a watcheable but shallow film that I suspect was more of a cynical attempt by Warner Bros to keep their death grip on the rights to the books, since I think they would have expired if they didn't do something with them soon.