#and she asked how my name was spelt and such

[diah-the-demon]

Also smth rlly weird happened earlier

My neo nazi neighbours somehow support my transition?????

[cy-cyborg]

So, there's a lot I want to say about the paralypics, but every time I try I just... can't articulate what I want to say without it turning into a monster of a post that puts my writing advice posts to shame lol. This includes in response to the anonymous asks I got on the topic btw. So I'm going to try and summarise my thoughts here.

As someone who was working towards the Rio paralympics - who was basically one of the people they were actively training to be the next paralympians and who got to go if their choice first athletes had to drop out, the Olympics and paralympics are a... touchy subject for me. I loved playing. I loved my sport. I loved the people I played with. I loved the people I played against. But the way the public and people in power treats disabled athletes sucks. It Really really sucks. and it hurts to talk about.

The vast, vast majority of us aren't paid. We are expected to train at the same intensity as the Olympians with none of the breaks and none of the support to do so, resulting in injuries that are disabling in and of themselves, while juggling normal jobs. many of the paralympians are also in school or at university as well. both schools and jobs see these elite athletes as dedicated hobbiests at best.

I had a friend who were fired from their job because they were denied time off to compete at the paralypics and well, if i had to choose between the paralympics or stay at a shit job paying minimum wage, I know which one I'd pick, and so she didnt have a job when she came back. I have friends who are still in the closet because their sponsors would drop them if they came out as gay, who ended years-long relationships to keep the funding that allowed them and their teams to compete - funding that just covered the costs of travel by the way. They never saw a cent of it themselves, but it was the difference between us having to pay $50 each for our plane tickets and accommodation and having to pay $2,000Aud + for every away game. I have friends who were supposed to go to Tokeyo but were kicked off the teams weeks before the games because of a rule change that decided they weren't disabled enough anymore, wasting years of work with absolutely no warning. They weren't even given the decency of an appology from the people who made the call. Several went through terrifying mental health spirals over it. It was their life's work, gone. I saw so many friends just give up because their disabilities were "too hard to classify" into the International Paralympic Commity's boxes and who were made to feel they weren't welcome by the system spouting off about its diversity and inclusion and empowerment of disabled people.

And then with all that, the best we can hope for is for the social media teams to turn us into a joke for ableds to laugh at or into inspiration porn to make them feel good about themselves - because at least theyre not us. Because obviously, there are no other options in how to show us/sarcasm.

My phone doesn't even have "paralympics" as a recognised word. I have a Samsung. The company that is currently at the paralympics using them as a marketing opertunity. We aren't even recognised as a word in the phones made by the company that is currently using the paralympics as a marketing opportunity. The phones they're giving the athletes won't even recognise the name of the event that they got it at. If I've spelt it wrong, it's because it autocorrects it every time I try to spell it right, and im dyslexic and can't see the difference until I stare at it for a minute or so.

I just... this isn't even scratching the surface of my thoughts. But I wanted to say at least some of it. It will be the last I'm going to talk about it, at least until the event is over.

[mygnolia]

it’s cupid, stupid! | lhs

୨୧ SYNOPSIS -›  To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?

୨୧ PAIR  -› golden boy!heeseung x fem-pres!reader

୨୧ GENRE -› fluff, pining, hurt/angst, slow burn (oops), bakery au, summer au, post highschool au | ୨୧ TROPES -› (slightly one sided) enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers | ୨୧ WC -› 20k (jfc)

୨୧ INCLUDES -› CURSING, food mentions, a self indulgent characterization of my grandmother but she’s also everyone else’s in this fic, the bakery has foods from like 40 different cultures, both mc and hee get burned but it’s tiny, heeseung’s parents r lowk overachieving assholes this is NOT a reflection of anyone irl, ew so much banter, heeseung and mc drink from the same straw ik that’s an ick for some LOL, underaged alcohol consumption (and being drunk)…sorry

୨୧ REN SAYS... thank u thank u thank u peng aka @jlheon for beta reading this in one sitting for me!!! your comments were so cute i'm so glad you enjoyed reading it <3

plsplsplspls reblog and send feedback/asks if you liked this!

Lee Heeseung might only have eleven characters to his name, but they spelt trouble in forty different ways. 

It starts with the same old Lee Heeseung spilling his applesauce on you in the first grade, with his cup of mushy lukewarm grossness splattered across your new pants with glittery stars on them. You shriek when it happens, frantically wiping off the mess and yelling at his Lightning McQueen lunchbox with all of the bottled up rage a six year old can have. His eyes are wide, but all his friends laugh and say girls are so angry all the time, so he stops himself from apologizing. Which, you think his friends were being a little rude to all girls alike, but what mattered was that Lee Heeseung never ended up saying sorry. 

But that’s just one way of spelling it. He hit you in the face with a ball, ran into you when your knee was scraped and you almost were bursting into tears, and tripped you in the lunch line. 

Did the universe hate you, or did he? 

You figured it was the latter.

Heeseung’s been stuck to you your entire life with some extra strong adhesive that you can’t seem to get off. You wish you could get some of the same glue that stuck you two to the hip and attach his tongue to the nearest streetlight, but things almost never worked in your favor. If you could catch him, just once, like one of the dumb boys who lick frozen poles in winter, you’d be satisfied. 

The blackmail would trump any sort of Heeseung related adversity your elementary grade self had to deal with. 

Unfortunately, the years have rendered you no protection against him, and in the small victories you find yourself in, you also see Heeseung right next to you. The exam you aced was topped by Heeseung with a 98%, just a bit higher than your 96%, and it couldn’t even feel good to talk about it because you knew all your friends talked about was how he did the best. Better than you. 

There was no accomplishment anymore when Heeseung was around. 

Heeseung was perfect in everyone’s eyes, a golden boy in their praises and a role model for their parents. If people didn’t want to be with Lee Heeseung, people wanted to be Lee Heeseung. That? That was something you hated. How could people want to be someone who you couldn’t stand?

Summer is a new slate- a very humid new beginning for you to get away from people at school and hang out with only your closest of friends and to ghost any new message you get. That is, if you choose to. Or, you could have an objectively more “hot girl summer” where you go to pools and post pictures on social media and talk about strangers on the internet. Unfortunately, none of those things seemed to be a viable option, with your friends in different countries and in cute swimsuits. Your visits to your grandmother had been so pushed back with all of the finals on top of exams and end of the year festivities that it had been a while since you last saw her. Spending time with her this summer was your number one priority- your friends could wait a few weeks to hang out again. 

You spend your first Saturday at her house making pastries with oddly reminiscent spices and a sprinkle of your childhood within every slice. If there’s one person you can trust to stay the same, it’s your dear grandma, with her decade old recipes and hard to find ingredients that she sometimes makes you go on a manhunt for. It’s endearing in a way to know that her cooking will never change, and maybe it’s the reason you make an effort to visit when you can. You love your grandma, and you always have, because she’s the only true constant in a world that’s constantly changing. 

You’ve made a feast by the time the sun barely peeks from the edge of the ground. You’ve measured countless spoons of sauces and powdery substances that all look the same and you're surprised the sauce you burned still tastes good. She’s finished setting up the table, and you two can finally dig into your favorite authentic cooking. Even if you see her quite frequently, she doesn’t always cook. Sometimes it’s leftovers, sometimes it’s take-out. But today was different. 

After you’ve both finished, your grandma hands you plastic wrapped dishes filled with mere fractions of what you two have made. She tells you to go to the Lee’s down the road, and your eyes narrow slightly. Lee is also the last name of Heeseung. So, what would be the odds it was him? 

Not likely. Heeseung would think he’s too cool to live in an area like this. His parents are probably minted- and if not loaded, then well off. 

Well, you were 100% wrong! Lee Heeseung does seem to live here, and you will admit the porcelain figures of calico cats in the dark as shapeless silhouettes were a little frightening at first. Your grandma washed away your previous concerns with a “Of course they’ll be home! Heeseung always answers the door for me.” and pushes you out of the house to deliver the two boxes of leftovers that smell delectable. If you weren’t so full, you’d just take a different route and have it for yourself. 

You can hear the ‘it’s our neighbor!’ And a pair of footsteps tumbling down the carpeted stairs to answer the doorbell. 

Lee fucking Heeseung in his sock and pajama clad glory. How punchable he looked in this very moment, with his warm brown dyed hair and white t-shirt. 

“I have leftovers. For your family.” His widened eyes immediately go back to their normal state, and he reaches out to meet your offering halfway. 

“You live here?” He asks, in a calm, civil manner that you don’t think you’ve ever seen with him. 

“Grandma does- I’m just her errand…runner.” You respond, in a not so smooth way. You wince internally at how choppy your words come out, but make no further effort to fix it. By now, it’s Heeseung who’s holding the styrofoam boxes. Your job is done. “Do you live here?” 

He nods solemnly, a smile filled with a smidgen of pride dusted across his features. He loves this house- Heeseung’s been in it his entire life, and it’s obvious the memories that have stayed with him since childhood make him far from ashamed to say it’s where he’s grown up all these years. But you? Could you say the same thing about the simple abode you went home to everyday? 

Maybe not. Another reason why Heeseung had it perfect, and another reason to resent him. 

You sighed to ease the tension that had condensed between the two of you. His mom wondered what took him so long, and he wondered the same question. 

Before you’re about to turn away, he blurts, “Thanks for the food.” You turn around, nodding a silent ‘of course,’ and walking away. 

At that very moment, there was no reason to hate Lee Heeseung. But as you walked away and back to your house, you hated the calico cats and the gate you entered through the house he went back inside to. 

The nostalgic board game high with your grandma does not last for long. As if the universe needed another reason to hate you, the unfortunate truth was that there was always more in store when you were subjected to a bad day, a bad week, or even a case of bad luck. You come back to the mahogany door to terrible news- your grandmother is sick. You rush out of her house the same day with the names of medicinal cures scribbled on a notecard and an urgency in your step. You buy her enough to last for the next few lifetimes, but it doesn’t matter. Anything healthy you could find in the fresh food aisle, you put in your cart, and when you came home, she was already up and sweeping the cold floors with a cough threatening to overwhelm her. 

Sometimes, you wish she didn’t overwork herself. You gently coerce her into laying on the couch, taking some of the medicine you got with a cup of warm water to ease her throat. She says nothing and you expect nothing in return for the last minute shopping you’ve done, but her eyes hold a sincere thankfulness that you know she will never speak aloud. When she’s retired to her bed, you finish unpacking the groceries and complete the mental task of chores your grandma would’ve exerted herself to finish independently. When you’ve finished, your hands are dry with soap and cleaning products, and your arms ache from the mopping, but the house is clean, and your grandma is sleeping well in the other room. You turn off the tv with one of her shows and switch off the light, heading back to your room and changing out of your clothes. By the time you crawl into your bed and charge your phone, the moon is the last thing you remember seeing before you fall asleep.

Monday comes unexpectedly, despite time still being on its course. You find yourself flipping through the cookbooks that littered the walls in your grandmother’s room, and in turn, the absolute urge to busy yourself in her passions manifested in the impulsive decision to work at her bakery. 

“Could- could I go work in the shop?” 

At first, her rejection was through scowls and furrowed eyebrows wondering why someone like you would want to fill their youthful summer days dusting surfaces with flour and kneading doughs instead of living the dream and swimming in turquoise waters. Her second rejection is easier to register. “I already have Hee helping me.” She states plainly, excusing the idea of two people in one room to run her business. Your nose scrunches up, and the temperature of your blood increases tenfold.

“Heeseung,” she clarifies, with almost too much enthusiasm. “He’s in your grade. Goes to your school, too.” She smiles, brushing a section of hair behind your ear and examining the imperfections on your skin. You frown, the obvious displeasure plastered on your features. It’s not hard to notice you don’t like what she just told you. “You don’t like him?”

“It’s whatever.” You tell her, shrugging away from her gaze and shrinking in on yourself. “I don’t care much for him.” 

What a lie! “It seems like you don’t like him.” She comments.

Of course you don’t like him. Heeseung is stuck up, arrogant, and looks past people like you- people who just aren’t as perfect as him. “I mean, why can’t I help you? Shouldn’t Heeseung….rest for the summer?” 

“It’s fine- he’s helped me out multiple times anyways.” She concludes, closing the book she was reading previously. “I wouldn’t mind you coming down to help, I’m sure 17 year olds like you and Hee can run things by yourself.” You raise an eyebrow at both of your names mentioned, but don’t speak out against her. 

You can run it by yourself, but you won’t, simply because your grandmother seems to have an affinity for some boy you just happen to hate. Plus, if Heeseung messes up, you get all the triple chocolate cake to yourself, so you’ll pray on his downfall until then. 

Wednesday morning is when you head over to the bakery, at a much earlier time than usual. The business doesn’t open until at least an hour later, and you spend the time preparing the mixing stands and covering the sweet rolls to be baked in a light sheen of oil. When the sun shines more vibrantly in the morning sky, and the cars honk at the traffic, a ruffled head of hair enters the building, and you’re very worried that you might’ve forgotten to lock the doors. “Sorry, we’re closed!” You yell out, but Lee Heeseung’s tuft of tinted hair is already in your vicinity. 

“The real question would be why you’re here, Miss _____.” He glances towards you, curiosity glazing his eyes over. You immediately scowl at his slightly teasing tone, one that could feel even condescending if he pushed that boundary just a bit more. Lee Heeseung might objectively be better than you in the eyes of an average high schooler, but frankly, you were just the same, and he had no right to sound that amused when you woke up and came here first. It’s 8:03am, and you already found just one more reason to hate him. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that with your back turned to him, he wouldn’t notice the obvious displeasure. “I can’t help out my grandma?” 

It’s so quiet in the place that you hear him suck on a breath behind you. “She’s your grandma?” 

“Did you not remember when I dropped off the food? Oh right, you probably wouldn’t spend your time on something so…,” you pause, racking your brain for a word you think he would use. “‘insignificant.’” 

Rustling. He takes a bowl and a carton of eggs. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Sorry, it’s just so difficult to believe you’re related to her.” Were you really that detached from your culture, or was Heeseung just mean? 

Lee Heeseung’s words get right under your skin, and it makes you see red. You frown in his direction, disregarding his words and moving on with your day.  “Yeah, my grandma is nice, I just don’t know why she thinks you’re a saint.”

“She thinks I’m a saint?” And you see something for the first time, something that’s akin to stars in his eyes, and the corner of his lips turn in satisfaction. He doesn’t even comment on how you’ve let it slip that you’re jealous of their relationship. 

“Maybe in your dreams.” 

“You just said-“ 

You feel like two cats about the fight behind a dumpster, before the door jingles, and someone walks into your conversation with Heeseung. 

“Sorry, is the shop not-?”

You rush to the counter before Heeseung does, counting it as a mental victory to take the first order. 

“It is! What would you like?” It’s something else you can tell your grandma when you get home- that you’ve been starting off all the work in the bakery, and you’re ‘not sure what Heeseung really does.’

The professionalism masks the irritation on his features, and you would’ve killed to see Lee Heeseung’s frown once more. 

When the customer is done telling you his order, you make sure he gets everything he needs, fully satisfied before the ring of the door is heard once more during his departure. The corner of your lip turns up into a grin, victorious as you childishly tease your co-worker. 

“I’m going to do the most around here, and I don’t need your pretty face getting in the way of things.” 

While he denies the rest, Heeseung doesn’t quite ignore what you said about his features. 

When noon has passed, but the sun still glares down on everyone outside, you work just as hard as the white ceiling fan providing cool air for everyone inside. You work in silence, with a playlist filling the air and adding to the ambience, as you listen to your own music through your headphones. Heeseung works without interacting with you more than what needs to be done, and rarely asks for help. He doesn’t let people down; if anything, he exceeds their expectations, but never yours. It’s been like this since the beginning, and you’re convinced it’s something personal- some wrangle ever since you two learned what cooties were that lasted until now. 

“____,” He starts, turning to you. You glance at him, waiting for the boy to continue. “Can you make the brown sugar milk tea- it’s on the-“ 

“I know where it is.” You snip.

Heeseung makes the right choice (in your opinion) to say nothing as you proceed to grab a cup and open the container of boba pearls. After you’ve taken a few orders, you move to the back of the bakery to pull the tray of matcha sheet cake onto the counter to cool. 

“Have you seen the scissors?” Heeseung asks out of nowhere, startling you from the doorway. 

Reaching for the ones you used to cut the parchment paper with, you hand the pair to him and with a mumbled ‘thank you,’ he makes his leave.

In an odd way, you’re stunned by the silence that follows. A “you suck, _____!” would be more in character for villainous Lee Heeseung than whatever just happened. But you’re way too occupied with the bakery, and go back to cutting squares in the matcha cake. 

It’s the same for the next hour until the rush ends and you get a bit more time to yourselves between orders. Heeseung agrees to wash the dishes and you clean the tables to the sound of your playlist from the speakers. 

“You have good music taste.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he emerges. He wipes his hand on a white towel and you stare at him, utterly puzzled. Where’s the malice? Where’s his snarky comments?

“I’m waiting for you to tell me it’s not as good as yours, or something along those lines.” You deadpan. 

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “I’m not that mean, I can give a compliment or two when I feel like it.” 

“Oh, poor Lee Heeseung only has so much room in his heart to compliment people. How thankful should I be that you spend your daily supply of niceness on me?” You snap, cleaning off the tables. Your chest feels light and you don’t feel as angry as you did this morning, finding your digs to be more playful that serious

Blame it on the lack of sleep.

“I think you should be bowing down to me and only talking when I tell you to.” He jokes, and when you glance up, there’s a semblance of a smile on his face. “Anyways, when are you leaving?”

“Whenever you leave.” You tell him, shrugging. 

“Your grandma said she didn’t want you to stay too late but she also wanted me to take you home, and I think she’d throw a fit if you didn’t. You were dropped off this morning, right?”

“I’d die before getting into a car with you, Lee Heeseung.” 

“If I had to get into a car with you, that’s probably how I’d die.” He responds lightly. You furrow your eyebrows and rack your brain for some sort of retort that hurts Heeseung’s pride, but nothing comes up. 

“My driving skills are very good, I’ll have you know.” 

He jabs, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“How about, next time you come, you leave with your bumper falling off? Some bad driving, yeah?” 

Heeseung could start feeling dizzy if his eyes continue to roll around in his skull. “Sure, we’ll see what your insurance has to say about that.” 

The aroma of vanilla slips through the air, and momentarily distracts you as you make haste to get it from the ringing oven. Unfortunately, your enthusiasm spills over the rim, and when reaching inside, you feel the burn of the sheet cake as you leave it on the iron rack to cool. Heeseung doesn’t tear his eyes from the way you jump back, squeezing the tender skin between your fingers as you blow on it in puffs. 

“Are you okay? Here-“ He reaches for your hand, but gentle. “Let me see that.” Heeseung soothes the slight pain with his thumb running over the burn, and his breath cooling it down slowly. 

“I’m fine.” You tell him, slowly pulling your finger away. His gaze snaps back up at you, and you feel your disdain for him dwindle ever so slightly. Maybe the Heeseung that rushed to make sure you were okay isn’t so bad. 

“Right. You’ll be fine.” And he doesn’t know if it’s something he tells himself, or if he’s telling you, when he goes to get some ointment. 

“A grad party? With Heeseung? Invited?” 

You can’t see him, but you almost hear Sunoo’s pout from the line. “Yeah, I don’t even know why you two fight anyways.” 

You huff, laying back down on your bed after Sunoo’s confession made you shoot up in surprise. “Have you seen him? He’s the most stuck-up annoying person ever.” 

Your friend hums. “To be honest, I don’t think you really know him.” 

“I know him plenty. And there’s nothing good about him, like, ever!” 

“You barely even talk to him, ____.” The last week proves differently, but you bite your tongue.

“I talk to him enough!” You’d defend yourself until the end of the earth. “He’s just…always around me- not like I even want him to, or he’s always hanging out with my friends, or-“

“Our friends.” 

“Well, not really.” You think hard. “They’re only friends because you and I are friends, so I’m friends with Heeseung in a distant obligatory way. And I need to keep it that way by not coming to this party.” 

“Come on!” Sunoo whines from the phone, and you laugh at his antics. “It’s a grad party, you’ll be too busy talking with everyone else to care anyways.” 

“Well, maybe for a bit.” 

“When’s the next time we’ll even be able to see each other anyways? Considering all of this college stuff.” 

You break his facade. “We’re literally going swimming in two weeks from now.” Sunoo laughs. “No, ____. Swimming is different from eating snacks and playing dumb board games.” 

He’s right, and you admit that it’ll be fun for something once last time. 

Maybe Heeseung won’t even show up. 

The next day at the bakery, you rush to ask him, almost too eager to know his answer. “Are you going to Sunoo’s party?” Please say no please please please-

“Of course. I’m his friend. You weren’t invited, or something?” His tone makes you want to light a fire on his head. 

“I’m his friend, too. I was the first person he talked to about it, so of course I was invited, and of course I’m going.” You say it as if the boy in front of you didn’t make you single handedly question your attendance last night. You say it like your demeanor never faltered, not even once. You say it like Heeseung had no say in the decision.

Because he definitely didn’t.

“I’ll see you there, then.” He smiles at you, a glint of evil in his eyes as he gauges your reaction. You return his scheming grin, frosting a slice of cake before walking out and calling the order number. When Heeseung emerges from the paper white curtains, he sees you engrossed in helping a customer pick out a few of the best options for ‘something not so sweet.’ 

When you’re done, you turn around to take a sip of your iced tea. “Really?” He starts, stirring some milk into a swirling shot of espresso. “The red bean cake is your definition of not too sweet?” Your ear-to-ear smile falls when you hear the off-handed comment from Heeseung, leaning against the counter with his taro milk tea, with close to no sugar. 

“I’m sure if they asked you, they would’ve walked out with a cake that tastes like a sponge.” You retaliate. You do your best not to look so affected, seeing as there were other people in the vicinity. It’s a bakery, you have to keep up the comforting atmosphere. 

“I don’t really think you’re the best person to offer advice for those kinds of things, unfortunately.” His tone snips at your resolve, and with every passing moment you stare at his lips and listen to his words, the more you wish to sew them together. 

“Sure, and they’ll be satisfied with eating basically paper? Your standards are also a little far-fetched.” You busy yourself with cleaning the cups and bowls from this morning, physically turning away from him. 

He walks past you and into the kitchen, but not before saying, “I’m sorry one of us has good taste.” 

You pray to every being that someone keeps Heeseung from speaking another insufferable word. 

Sunoo’s house is as quaint as you remember, and although you don’t find yourself making the resemblance often, it suits him. With one hand occupied with holding a gift, and the other about to press the doorbell, you’re interrupted by an all too familiar voice. 

“I guess you did show up. Sucks to see my dreams didn’t come true.”

“I will throw this at you.” You motion to the neat basket in your hands.

Heeseung sighs dramatically, before continuing in the same feigned tone. “Would be a shame if Sunoo only had one gift from us.” 

“He’d understand.” You turn around to ring the doorbell, and Sunoo emerges, a bright smile on his face. He greets the both of you, and his quick side hug immediately reminds you of why you’re here. 

You will have a good time. And you won’t let any auburn haired boy ruin that. 

Despite being close to Sunoo, you’re not as close to the rest of his friends. He keeps his circle small, only with people he spends time with regularly. Which would be good for any other day, but for today, you feel almost like an outsider. Sunoo’s group of friends greet you all the same, and shower the boy behind you with affection. When you walk towards the kitchen, you catch some more of your mutual friends, and your nerves slowly ease away. You join their ongoing card game, an observer to it all as they yell in success or defeat. 

The group of people playing Taboo suddenly doubles as the six of Sunoo’s friends decide they want in. With the way you move to the floor, you’re so preoccupied with making sure there’s enough space for everyone and that all the cards are there, that you don’t realize where you’re sitting. 

Cross legged, on the ground, next to Lee Heeseung. 

You can’t get up, and you weakly protest against the many thoughts telling you that a game of Taboo with Lee Heeseung would get you so heated that everyone would see steam out of your ears by the end of the first round. 

“You know how to play?” Yuna starts to thumb through the cards, making sure all of them are placed in the right orientation. While the majority of you guys nod, a few of them shake their heads, and it prompts a quick explanation from Ryujin. 

“So, everyone gets a set of cards in a team of 3, and you have to describe it without using the words in the white box below. So for example, if my word is Vanilla, I can’t use the words bean, flavor, ice cream, extract, or chocolate.” She shows everyone the example card, and you all nod your heads. “Okay, now we divide into teams!” You tune out the rest of her words as she divides you all into sections based on where you’re sitting, and it leaves you with a twisting feeling. 

“Blue will be ____, Heeseung, and Jungwon!” 

Truly, was luck ever on your side?

You don’t have time to ponder just how horrible things are going, because Jungwon’s excitedly pulling you two close into a circle to discuss game plans. 

“Okay, just skip the cards you can’t answer, think about references rather than actual descriptions. Guys, the prize is good, Sunoo told me.” And the need to win anything reignites in your eyes, determination being your main motivation. 

Jake, Sunghoon, and Yuna go first, and guess four cards correctly. You feel the excitement coursing through the air like electricity, as everyone’s competitive spirit shows through. 

It’s finally your turn, and you volunteer to be the describer, picking up the cards with anticipation. You share a look with Heeseung and Jungwon, praying they share your wave of telepathy. 

First word- Engine. 

You scan through the words you’re not allowed to use, Jake watching over as your referee in case you slip up. 

“Okay, it’s the thing in the-“ You’re about to say car, but you pause, quickly trying to reevaluate your descriptions. The timer looms, and you feel panic settle in. “The thing that powers the…vroom vroom.” 

In Jungwon’s head, it clicks. “Engine!” You toss the card, reading the next. Egypt? 

“It’s a 3D thing, but it has three sides in north Africa.” 

“Pyramids.” Heeseung answers smoothly. 

You grin unknowingly. “Right-right, okay. Where is it?”

“Egypt.” 

“This is a Jesus related celebration-“ You continue, glancing at the hourglass as the sand slips through.

“Easter!” Jungwon says. “Christmas!” 

“The second one! It’s one of the little things you… put up!” 

“Stockings!” And you shake your head at Jungwon, goading them to think a bit more and guess. You glance up almost sheepishly, at a loss of words and stumbling over thoughts. Heeseung sighs, leaning back before looking at you again. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” You huff, flicking at the card anxiously. 

“Like what? Like you can’t describe a simple word?” 

“Oh, as if you could-“

“Ornament!” And with that, the timer ends. You glare at Heeseung, hard, and if you were anything like Superman, you really would’ve burned holes through his skull. Thankfully, with Jungwon was your mediator, you don’t say anything snarky back at him, staying silent as the other groups go. 

The first round tension eases as the night carries on. As Jake and Sunghoon score 7 cards in one round, it prompts you, Heeseung, and Jungwon to come together, a jittery feeling as you sip from a can of soda and pray your brain works in tandem with both of them. 

Remembering Heeseung’s your describer, you sink in your seat a little, feeling hopelessness consume your mind- but Jungwon doesn’t let you sulk as he cheers Heeseung on. “Last round!” He says, a sparkle in his eye. The teams are so close, and despite your team having the lowest points by being the last group to go, you know you can score the 6 points needed to beat Ni-ki, Ryujin, and Sunoo. 

The hourglass is flipped, and you hold your breath. 

“Naturally occuring formation,” he says smoothly, glancing at you and Jungwon. “Hot stuff.” 

It clicks. “Volcano!” Jungwon smiles, feeling victory running through his veins. Heeseung’s lip curls up. 

“It’s the saying with too many people, ‘three’s a..” He waits for you both to finish the line. 

“Crowd!” Heeseung and you smile at each other as he continues to rush through the cards, briefly glancing over to the timer. 

He falters slightly, before lighting up. “When you’re excited, you’re on ____ 9.” You finish it quickly, burning holes into the back of his cards before he continues. You have to win. 

“Jungwon, we played this game in 2020 on Discord with the guys!” 

“Among Us.” and you laugh at the references he makes to win.

“____, it’s the 60% thing you like at the bakery.”

Your breath hitches, and you almost forget to answer until you see the way he’s looking at you. 

“Chocolate.” You mumble, and he cracks a grin again, relieved to get it in only four seconds. 

With the way he looks at the words and furrows his eyes, you worry that the sand will slip through the hourglass completely before he can finish explaining the sixth and final word. 

Heeseung chooses to deviate from the normal meaning of the words, and chooses to use a different meaning of it in order to not risk using a word on his unavailable list. “When something is more spicy than you expect, you say it has a little something to it.” 

Your heart is beating wildly, and you’re barely in the same spot as you were when you first started, leaning over and closer to Heeseung’s curly fringe. “Kick!” you yell out, and the room explodes in commotion, carefully counting the tallies under every team name. Yeji sighs as she marks down your final tally, and you stand up, all in a group hug before you even realize it. You watch Heeseung, looking up at the way his eyes are closed and his smile’s wide. The adrenaline keeps you jumping with your partners, unaware of how Sunoo observes the carefree way you cling onto his friend, and the supposed bane of your existence. When you two finally stop cheering at your long awaited victory, you shoot Heeseung a glance, noticing how he’s already looking at you with the same gears turning in his head. Although you’ve created space, he’s zoned out, and you can tell he hasn’t noticed that you two once again make eye contact. It takes a raised eyebrow from you for him to look elsewhere, absentmindedly tonguing the inside of his cheek, feeling almost embarrassed to have been so close. 

There’s a bubbling feeling in your stomach whenever you think about how he remembered- how Lee Heeseung pays attention to the little things. You push it down, because it’s nothing more than what coworkers do for each other. He’s cordial, as always. That’s all it is.

“Didn’t seem like you hated Heeseung much.” Sunoo comments, a smile puffing up his cheeks. You roll your eyes, helping him pick up some of the stray trash from the floor after the party is over. 

“Don’t even!’ You start, debating if you should throw a Dorito in his face. “It’s just for the games, he was literally insufferable every other minute.” 

Sunoo is unfortunately the victim to your back-and-forth, trying for you to see with reason but falling short to your simple petty nature. He fails to see how Heeseung has treated you, but deep down, you see it. You see the occasional stare Heeseung finds himself in with you, the frown on his features or the way he always carries himself  as if he’s somehow better than you. It’s exasperating how easily he surpasses you, and always glances back to make sure you know. The looks he gives you are deceptive, and you basically see his thoughts laid out in front of him before he turns away. You swear to Sunoo that he has it out for you, always trying to boost that inflated ego of his by showing you how much better he is at anything. 

“How are you so sure Heeseung just wants to rub it all in your face? Well, wait.” He pauses, tying a trash bag closed. “Why do you look at him so much that you catch him staring?” 

Oh. You think about it, truly emptying your brain to find a proper answer, but deep down, there was none to be found. 

“I don’t know, Sunoo,” you huff. “He just always looks at me.” 

“Maybe he wants to be friends.” 

Violently shaking your head, you smash in a water bottle, feeling a flash of confusion pass through you. “Why would he want to be friends with me? To show he’s such a nice and caring person?” The boy on the receiving end sighs, slumping to the floor in the kitchen. You stare at him, watching how Sunoo deflates before going to wash his hands in the sink. “You’re insufferable.” He calls out, laughing quietly. 

A frown makes its way onto your features unknowingly, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you truly put yourself in your friend’s shoes. 

Surely, Sunoo sees what you mean, right? There’s just no way Heeseung would want to be friends with you either- it’s not like you treat him any better than he treats you. Plus, Heeseung has had it out for you, always by your side for the best and for the worst times, somehow dampening your mood in both. 

Right?

After a tight hug from Sunoo and your efforts to lift his mood after a long day, you get in your car, a random song from your playlist coursing through the stuffy air. 

There is mutual hatred- well, maybe not hatred, but dislike. A definite dislike between you and some part time bakery employee who also happens to be the worst boy you’ve ever met. 

You’re beginning to think that this feud between you two is a small flame that you’re shoveling piles of wood into, igniting from your own hands. 

You have no idea how to prove it, though. You can’t let yourself look like an idiot by simply being nice to him if he really has it out for you and hates you- or else he’ll get some sort of upper hand. 

Your plan goes like this; You’ll give Lee Heeseung one chance to prove himself as an arrogant and selfish person, and when it happens, it’ll be true solid evidence you have to dislike him. It’ll prove that Lee Heeseung hasn’t changed one bit, and that you were always right in your beliefs. 

You trust the universe will help you out one time, and pray for the best. 

So that’s why, when your grandmother invites you to join her at the Lee’s once again, you agree, finally getting to try not just the leftovers of Mrs. Lee’s delicious galbi recipe. 

And that’s how you're standing in front of his doorstep with a welcome mat under your feet, and a porcelain cat staring up at you from the porch. 

You hear the commotion that follows your knock, and you're greeted with a warm smile from whom you can only assume is Heeseung’s mother. After she invites you in, you meet the rest of the family, and make sure your grandmother has taken a seat. Heeseung glances at you from the stairs, before wordlessly joining the table, quickly grabbing bowls in the kitchen before coming to sit down. Everyone interacts, and you’re stuck smiling and shaking hands with his father and bowing to his grandmother, asking if there’s anything you can do to help. 

When his mother brings the steaming aromatic food over, your eyes light up. “Here, Heeseung, sit next to ____!” 

Your smile drops. 

He takes the empty seat next to you, flashing you a grin. “Long time no see.” You roll your eyes, with the distance between the two of you closer than ever, you lean over to make sure your grandma gets plenty of cabbage kim-chi and warm sauces with her rice, helping her whenever necessary. By the time you sit back down, your bowl already is full of food. You glance over at the culprit.

Heeseung just shrugs when you raise an eyebrow, muttering a thank you before digging in. 

“I hear you’re planning to attend the same university as Heeseung.” His mother’s words cause your eyes to widen, choking slightly on your bite before you feel someone’s hand on your back. “You okay, ____?” And the mirth in his eyes tells you he finds your reaction funny.

You shake your head in earnest, feeling yourself lose even more passion for school. She continues, reaching for some grilled meats with her chopsticks. “It’s exciting, isn’t it? You two are basically neighbors, and you’re always super hard working. Maybe Heeseung could learn a thing or two, since I hear so much about how you help out your grandma.”

You’re pleased to hear she likes you, but it all comes out at once, and her confessions leave you in surprise. You glance over at the boy next to you, hoping to gain some wicked satisfaction from it all, but what you see leaves you with a dejected look. Heeseung’s gaze is steely, and you notice the almost glare his mom sends her son after saying it. He feels small, unlike the confidence that surrounds him after test scores or when he got admitted into his colleges. Something doesn’t feel right, and it leaves a sour feeling on your tongue when you try to make yourself bigger than him. 

“Heeseung has always done well. I’m sure he’ll continue to do well both at the bakery and in school.” You don’t mean to disagree with her, but it’s true. You hate to admit it, at least to his face, but Heeseung’s worked just as hard or harder than everyone else. He tilts his head in confusion as to why you’d voice something like that, and you roll your eyes, hoping that he never brings it up again.  

You continue to talk with his mother, laughing at her comments and going along with whatever she has to say, no matter how traditional her views might be. You thank her profusely for the meal, and she waves you off with a bashful look. ‘It’s nothing,’ she communicates through her laughs and small hug when you two are about to leave.

“See!” Your grandma says on the walk back, as you carry tupperware of marinated meats and soup. “Hee isn’t so bad after all.” 

“I guess.” You really have nothing else to tell her, not wanting to ruin the delicate moments between you two as the sun casts down a slim glow. “He didn’t really say much.” 

His mom, however, made you realize just why Heeseung performs at the standard he does- because he really has no choice but to be the best, or to accept failure in front of his parents’ eyes. It’s a corrosive treatment, one that slowly digs away at anyone’s ability to be passionate about truly anything. 

She changes the subject. “How’s the bakery?” 

You want to tell her that Heeseung is annoying, that he runs around always telling you to do things, that he’s always too busy covered in flour and coconut cream to help you out. You want to tell her that you hate Heeseung, and that your quality of life decreases whenever he’s around. He messes with you, sends jokes and digs your way, and you don’t know how to get him out of there faster. 

“Heeseung’s fine. I know he’s a big help to you.” And maybe, he’s become a big help to you, too. 

There is one thing you’re not sure you can perfect- macarons. 

They’re dumb, take so little ingredients yet such precision- and to be honest, do they even taste that good? In your personal opinion, they’re nothing amazing, and honestly, the scraps of chocolate cake that you don’t use for cake pops serves you well. 

The night before, you and Heeseung both mutually agreed to stay for a bit longer, starting on the macarons so neither of you would mess up tomorrow morning in a rush. It’s a large order, and you get them relatively often. You try to get tips from your grandmother the night before that, writing them down in your phone and making sure you listen to every piece of advice she says. You write down the last thing in your notes, ominously typed out in bold text. “don’t overdo it.” it reads, and you stay up watching videos on how other people make them look so perfect. 

Staying late for the shift meant you shifted your routine by a few hours- showering later, eating a bit later, and sleeping less than you should’ve. You were tired already, but the extra work only added to it, making you feel less and less confident in every piped macaron. 

The alarm reads 8:00am, a criminally late hour if you want to get to work on time. Sending a quick apologetic text to your coworker, you rush out of the house, driving as carefully as you can to make it there while scraping as much time off as you can. Rushing in, you see Heeseung, leaning over and assessing your yellow batch. If the grid you used was supposed to be a 5 by 11 sheet, then there should be 55 macarons- but you notice, in a few places, there are missing confections. 

One culprit. “How childish do you have to be to eat the ones I’ve made?” The immediate accusation has Heeseung looking up at you, straightening his back to narrow his eyes. 

“Some of your macarons were hollow shelled.” 

“What, so you go and throw them away without even asking me?”

Heeseung hates how the mood is immediately dampened, finding himself getting more heated around you. “We literally need 25 of each- only four of yours were hollow- I had to start making another batch because I didn’t want to risk mine being hollow, too.” He tries to explain, tapping his fingers on the counter. Your skin feels hot- how dare he mess with the batch you already worked so hard to pipe and fold? If you were to fish out the shells from the trash right now, you would be positive that they weren’t even that empty. You grab one of the tools from near the sink, going to inspect his red ones. 

His attempt to make himself look human is shattered when you notice that none of his, are in fact, hollow like how he presumes they were. 

“You didn’t even check yours!” You exclaim, feeling targeted. 

He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t even matter who’s batch it was- why do you care so much that I was trying to help you out because you were late today?” 

That- that was your reason. Lee Heeseung once again spelt trouble, by meddling in your macarons when you could’ve so easily examined them yourself. He turns around to start washing the utensils in the sink, as you stand there and seethe. Blame it on the sleep, or on the stress of rushing out this morning, but all of it makes you walk out of the building, feeling the hot tears fill your waterline before they spill and cascade down your skin. 

You worked so hard to make them- and even if they weren’t perfect, even if what he had to say was right, you just wished you could’ve seen it for yourself. You haven’t worked there much prior to the summer, and macarons have always been something you’ve wanted to nail, so to see Heeseung set the standard according to his own feelings and just throw out the ones you wanted to see- well, it hurts. It’s a jab at your pride, at all the effort you’ve put into learning and watching videos, sacrificing sleep to listen to people croak advice after advice on one of the greatest baking feats. It hurts to see once again that you’ve failed to be like Heeseung, and that he took matters into his own hands by assessing your tray for you

Fishing out your phone, you look for one contact to offer comfort. “Grandma?” You ask, sinking down to rest your head on your knees without sitting on the cement. You’re next to your car, not wanting to go through the efforts of finding your keys. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks immediately after hearing your sniffle, and you tell her. You tell her about how your shells were uneven, and how you worked so hard for them, and how Heeseung threw them away before you could even see for yourself. She understands your pain, and tells you that no one can perfect something as difficult as macarons- and that during spring break, she had seen Heeseung go through the same thing. It helps, just a little, to know that he started from the same place as you, too. You calm down with her further reassurance, and wipe your puffy eyes before coming back in. You’re afraid the patrons will notice something’s up, and ignore Heeseung’s worried looks to pat cold water onto your eyelids in hopes of helping them look less red.

He sees all of it- Heeseung Isn't stupid, he knows what he’s done, but he can’t get himself to apologize. And as you knew, he went through the same heartbreaking process, and in his thorough reassessment of the situation, he doesn’t know why he didn’t see it from your perspective until you stormed out. 

‘I'm sorry,’ he writes on the bag of lemon curd he made for your macarons. But it does little to salvage your disposition for today. You ignore him, never asking for any help, or any opinion even in the times you usually would. It’s quiet throughout the whole day, like a gray cloud has dampened the colors in the sky, and you clock out at exactly the right time after everything is done, put away, and cleaned. you refuse to leave a mess for Heeseung to point out, but you leave feeling angry, sad, but mostly, disappointed. 

The next day, you arrive at the bakery to find Heeseung sipping from a dangerously large cup of instant boba and taro milk. His eyes dart up to witness all of your struggling glory carrying a shipment that came to the house instead of the shop. In a hurry, he grabs a few boxes from the top and sets them down on the counter, and whatever you were carrying follows suit. He treats you as if you didn’t fight, as if you two aren’t filling the room with tension the more you steal glances at each other. He grabs his drink, one that he’s prepared 15 minutes ago, and finishes almost another quarter of it in one long sip.

You want to tease him for how much taro he’s had when it’s barely 8 o’clock, but it’s not the right time. Days like this are always slow, only dragged out longer by the silence and lack of tasks. The awkward silence between you two fuels him to grab scissors and start opening the boxes. 

“I thought your grandma might’ve told you I could handle it.” Heeseung comments, refilling the crushed water and oreo toppings. “I was checking the delivery updates pretty often.”

“Not often enough,” you snap. You fight back a glare, and proceed to open up your own box of extracts. “I’m her granddaughter. Maybe you should go enjoy summer with your friends. Don’t you have a beach trip to thirst trap at or something?” It’s meant to be an insult, but Heeseung quietly chuckles, finding it a little funny. 

“Yes, we are having a beach trip soon. But i already told your grandma I’ll work in the morning before your aunt comes to take over.” You frown, wondering why your grandma never reaches out to you and asks you to help.

With emphasis on the syllables in his name, you fire back, “Let’s be clear, Heeseung, she wants my help much more than she needs yours.” He glares, stirring a cup with his eyebrows furrowed and lips curled down in distaste. 

“I’m sure that’s why she was so enthusiastic about coming over to our house and talking to me.” It’s your turn to scowl, and you’re afraid Heeseung’s comments will only take years off your life and produce wrinkles on your face much quicker. 

“Funnily enough, I heard she didn’t want you working there at all.” You cross your arms to look at him as a way to further your point. 

He responds defensively. “Yeah. as if.” Even the way Heeseung rolls his eyes at you is annoying. “She just wants me around more than you.” 

You can’t feel offended, especially when his tone is so light. It probably isn’t even true- how much your grandmother prefers Lee Heeseung over you, just like anyone else. The feeling burns you and you shrink away from the heat of the sudden fire accompanied by the implications of his words. Heeseung catches on to the sudden shift in your demeanor. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean that.” He tries to apologize, watching you carefully.

The flames leave you angry with his response, feeling once again belittled by him. “Bullshit. Are you glad you’re the favorite for every single person you know?” 

His eyebrows furrow, feeling the bite of your words, and the mood instantly changes. “That’s not what I meant, ____.” 

You roll your eyes. “Of course that’s not what you meant, Heeseung. Of course you’re the one who’s perfect, and I’m simply the one who misinterprets all of it. Of course you have never had a bad intention ever and you are loved by everyone. Why can’t you just go? Do you really have to take one more thing away from me and make it your own?” The years of resentment pile up in the words you throw at him, and the built up wall you’ve created finally shows just why you should despise him so much. “Or was it not your intention to do that either?” 

It’s too early, to be honest, to be fighting like this, and you’re definitely saying things that you’re going to regret. But you’re tired of being second to him- tired of never getting the recognition you so badly deserved from those who you actually wanted to hear it from. You’re tired of never being heard by your teachers, getting grades that swoop right under a certain someone’s. All on purpose. (right?)

Despite the sudden urge to bicker with you about how you think everything is about you, and how you’ve never given him a chance, the boy beside you is observant to how hurt you sound being so vulnerable. Heeseung finds himself trying to rethink the past ten years of shared childhood experiences. He’s never really thought about what he’s done to deserve such resentment from you, but the more he says silent, the more he realizes that he’s always so graciously soaked up praise from everyone, and because of it, you were always left sulking in his shadow. 

“I’m sorry.” But it’s more than that. 

You feel stupid for expecting anything deeper. “Is that all you have to-“

He cuts you off, trying to articulate the words and form reason. “No, there’s more. God- let me just think.” You hear how badly he needs to get it out, and you stay quiet, having let all of your anger out already. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m not going to apologize for all of the things I’ve achieved,” he says firmly. “Because that’s never how things were for me- I have no reason to feel bad about what I did.” And you can respect him for standing his ground in a situation full of misunderstanding. “I never did it to hurt you, and I never did it to get in your face and show I was better. But I’m sorry for hurting you unintentionally. I’m sorry I never realized that those things were just as important to you, and I’m sorry for always assuming the worst when we’d talk. I’m sorry I never apologized, and held all of this against you, and made this thing between us worse than it was supposed to be. And, I’m sorry, too, about the macarons. That was stupid. I really should’ve known.”

You feel overwhelmed, your mind trying to undo the years of built up feelings towards him under the assumption that he meant to do those things. “I thought you did it because you genuinely didn’t want to see me happy. Like that time you did the extra credit in biology just so you could score better than me.” You breathe, words coming out without really realizing what you’re saying. “Or like that time in first grade where you spilled your applesauce on me, and never apologized. I kept thinking, what the fuck did I do to deserve it? What had I done to make you feel like we had to compete?” Your open ended questions continue to resonate within your co-worker’s mind, and the more you ramble, the more he sees just how twisted he looks. 

“In first grade, that was because the boys said I’d get cooties if I went to talk to you. Believe me, ____, I tried. But every single time I try to fix things between us, you never let me, I swear.” 

It’s your turn to be confused, swearing that you never saw him apologize. “When have you ever tried to be nice to me?” 

“I tried to let stuff go. Like all the little things we’d say about each other- I tried to understand why you were always so unhappy around me. But you always said I was meddling in your business or that I just wanted to find another way to get under your skin.” 

It settles, then, the realization that you’ve turned him into the villain a bit more than you should’ve. You know there’s always been mutual dislike- there are certain times where you know Heeseung had it out for you, with his sneers, his comments or the way he’d smile at your defeat- but you weren’t a saint either. There were other times that maybe, he wasn’t out to get you, but you were always so consumed with the idea of hating Lee Heeseung that you hated the idea of him being a decent person, too. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, leaving your emotions to witness. “I really should’ve paid attention to your genuine efforts back then, too.”

And you’re not the only one who’s at a loss for words this time. Heeseung is in uncharted territory, unsure of how to process the way you’re apologizing, and being so open. And he’s antagonized you too; made you out to be a mood killer and party pooper in every event imaginable, despising the idea of being around you because you two always disagree somehow. 

“But, why do you do it? Why do you come here if it’s really anything personal?” 

He answers in the only way he sees fit. “I want to help her out, she’s always cooked for our family, she’s let me come over a few times, just little things for my family and I. I never meant to take your grandma away from you like that, I promise. She’s just so kind, and she cares so much about me, so of course I want to care for her, too. I just didn’t think it’d be at the expense of you.”

Despite still feeling hurt, you nod, trying to be mature and talking about it rather than burying it deep. “All I hear about is how she wants you to come, and how she never needs my help anymore because she has you already volunteering. It’s like I barely mean anything to her.” Your words sting for Heeseung, but not because there’s any anger directed at him. Heeseung feels a pang of relatability in his chest, the inability to ever be enough for those around you gnawing away at your self-esteem. 

He shakes his head, begging you silently to understand. “She doesn’t want you to work so hard.” He starts, running a hand through his hair. “She tells me about how she’s worried if you’re eating, or if you’re stressed. She’s watched you through-out your whole life, ____. All she’s ever wanted was for you to finally enjoy the summer you worked so hard for.”

“I just wish it felt that way.” You admit.

To hear such high praise from his lips feels foreign- the idea of Lee Heeseung noticing how hard you’ve worked, realizing the amount of effort you’ve put into your standing and accomplishments, it’s weird. You know he understands completely how stressful it’s all been, considering he was stuck to your side the whole time in highschool whether you liked it or not. Lee Heeseung has worked hard, if not harder, than you, and for him to be able to admit that is so much different than what your perception of him would think. It’s awkward to meet his gaze, and his small smile eases the tension a little when you laugh at his attempt to soothe things out. 

“I feel dumb, for thinking so horribly of you. I honestly never thought you looked at me like I was an equal, just someone you could surpass.” He shakes his head, about to reach out and grab your wrist before he realizes just how intimate it would be. 

“You’re not dumb, _____. You never have been. I’ve always looked up to you.” 

There are knots in your chest- the ones that make it feel as tight and hard to breathe as you do right now- that slowly become untangled the more he speaks of you. His words undo them, little by little, and even if it takes a long time to fix the rift between you two, at least you know you have help. 

Internally, your heart begs you to ask. “Why do you even care?” 

He pauses, mulling over his words, and looking for a proper response. “I don’t know.” He sighs. “I just want to, we’ve been around each other since we were kids, and if there was someone who I’d hope to have by my side, whether or not we’re close, it was you.” 

Your breath hitches at his confession, and your mind runs in a hundred different directions, without ever expecting those words to tumble from his lips. You promise yourself to do things differently from now on, not trusting your words to continue the conversation. 

“We should finish unpacking.” And the rest is that. 

When you two leave to go home, the old tension feels different- lighter, almost. As much as you know he would do things to get on your nerves, never understanding just why you were so negative and brooding around him, your perception of him wasn’t the best, either. And still, you may be a bit mad at him, and not exactly friendly, but at least you’ve both let go of the unspoken baggage.  

When you sit in the passenger seat, you’re less inclined to turn away and face the window, and make small talk with the radio on. 

Things aren’t perfect- the years of hurt he’s done to you doesn’t dissipate in a day, but it’s getting better, and you can only hope it continues that way. 

A week passes between the two of you, and time flows easier now that you two talked things out. You don’t dread going to work, and you didn’t refuse when he offered to buy food on the way home a few days ago. Sure, some topics between you two are sore, and you’re not best of friends, but it’s light years ahead of what it was like before. 

You can never truly get rid of the banter between you two- there are clever insults you’ve crafted in your head that you love to see his reaction to, and you’re just the right person for Heeseung to bicker with. 

“Do you ever stop drinking that soy milk?” Your coworker asks. You nurse your cup, keeping it close as you rush to defend your end of shift drink. “You’re like, a baby.”

“It’s lactose free. And a very good basic drink.” You explain, frowning at yet another large cup of taro tea he holds in his hands. “Your drink probably tastes like nothing.” 

He holds it out, and you raise an eyebrow. “Just use the same straw,” he insists. You truly don’t mind, but it’s so weird now to know that Heeseung, like, your friend. But you take a sip anyways, cringing at how your suspicions were right- There’s barely a hint of sweetness in there. 

“Don’t make that face!” He comments when you grimace, and also feels the need to protect his opinion on 15% sweet options. 

“Anyways,” you change the subject, determined to get him to see your sweet tooth ways. “Help me make some creme brûlée for my grandma. I’ve never tried.” And he sets his cup down, and for the first time possibly, Heeseung joins you to do something. 

“It should be easy, right?” He says, and with a look of determination, you set off. 

“Heat the cream.” You tell him, reading the instructions from your phone. 

He retorts lightly, “So rude.” and you turn around to scoff, all in good fun. 

“You’re insufferable.” And he tilts his head, offering you a small pouty smile when he turns on the stove. 

The mood feels so much less stuffy than it did before when he says, “Must suck to always hate me like how you do.” 

“I have an egg yolk in my hand that i’m willing to throw at you.” He chuckles, and peers over at your bowl. 

“You’re pretty good at that.” He notes, and you fight the urge to beam at his compliment for your yolk-separation skills. After he’s poured in enough cream, he grabs the sugar and a measuring spoon, fishing your phone out from beside you and reading the measurements. 

He adds so much less than what the recipe says, and you only know this because when you glance over, the scale reads a number much lower than 65 grams. 

“Heeseung,” You call out, in a playfully stern manner, and the boy in question turns around like he’s been caught. “Bring back the sugar.” 

“We’ve run out.” He says, the lie appearing as a wide smile on his face. Unconvinced, you walk over, and in turn, he holds the jar up out of your reach. You refuse to reach for it, knowing that the boy in front of you is much taller, but also that you don’t want to break the glass with some horseplay.

Your voice goes from demanding to reasoning. “Give it back. God, I can’t stand you and all of your low sugar preferences. The sugar is literally needed for the texture!” He simply shakes his head, walking over to add just one more unmeasured spoonful. “You didn’t even weigh it.” 

Heeseung mocks you- a high-pitched and garbled version that follows the intonation of your words, and you let out a surprised scoff at his immaturity. Getting a whisk, you make sure the newly added sugar is fully dissolved. He returns with the pot of cream that bubbles slowly, with an oven mitt around the hot handle. Without a look in your direction, Heeseung holds out his arm between you and the heated cream, and it really doesn’t do much- but yet, at the same time, it does. It’s something he does subconsciously; and something you do your best not to pay attention to in order to properly reach for the whisk.

He slaps your hand away lightly, and you mumble an ‘ow!’ in response. “Don’t touch that. Let me whisk it. It’s hot.” He reprimands gently.

Yeah, you’re still doing your best not to pay attention to it. 

When the mixture transforms from a deep yellow to a pale banana color, he leans down and checks the side of the bowl for any egg and sugar he’s missed. “Here,” you reach out. “Let me get the pot.” Heeseung glances up, and shakes his head quickly.

“No it’s okay-“ and it happens quickly, the hand that was whisking leaves to swat your hand away, but it instead makes contact with the rim of the metal appliance when he doesn’t pay attention to where his hand is placed. Although Heeseung only hisses quietly at the pain, you immediately feel bad. 

“Just give it to me,” you demand, and pry the pot out of his hand to let him nurse his wound, leaving it in the sink and quickly going to the medicine cabinet for burn relief cream- the same one you used a few weeks ago. After you grab it, you return to him, reaching out your hand and waiting for him to show you the puffy red skin. 

He slowly puts his hand on your palm, and you twist around his finger to apply the ointment, doing your best to spread it without pressing too hard. 

“Thank you.” 

You glare. “Don’t hold hot things if you’re not fully attending to them.” And he puts his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. 

“I’ll be preparing your ramekins, boss.” The nickname has a nice ring to it. 

When it’s done, the creme brûlée comes out with a slight wobble in the middle, indicating a well-cooked perfection. “Grab the blowtorch!” You shove him into the direction of where it is, and he complies. You sprinkle sugar over five of the six dishes, using a spoon to shape the sugar in the last dish into a heart since you thought it looks cute. 

Heeseung comes back from your right, leaning over to watch you intently. “A heart? You make it seem like you’re in love, or something.” He jokes, evading a jab with your right elbow. 

“Shut up.” 

“You shut up.”

“You argue like a-“ you’re about to finish your sentence with ‘child,’ but when you turn your head (in hopes that saying it directly would add more emphasis), you’re face to face with Heeseung, with a proximity between you two that’s far less than expected. 

He takes a quick step away, and you glance somewhere else with a nervousness in your eye. 

Neither of you say anything, not really sure if you should apologize or if he should, and you return to your current task, a small churning turning in your stomach. You take a step back to let him caramelize the sugar, and he holds the blowtorch with his non-burned hand. 

It’s good, is the only thing you think when you crack the sugar and scoop a bit, admiring the texture. When you and Heeseung finished one each, you begin to clean up and wash the equipment you used. 

“It’s late, _____. I’ll take you home.” He states the obvious, and for what?

“How else am I supposed to get back?” You laugh, and in response, he shrugs. 

“Just a reminder as to which one of us is so graciously kind to drive you too and from the bakery almost everyday.”

“If I had a choice, I could’ve easily taken my own car. You know my grandma needs it for her errands. Like her Wednesday bingo night, or whatever.” He chuckles, holding the door open and unlocking the car. 

Being in the same space as Lee Heeseung isn’t as excruciating as how it used to be- and now, it’s just an opportunity for you to finally ask your burning questions. 

“Heeseung, I’m just curious. How did you even meet my grandma?” 

He furrows his eyebrows. “I think it was the mailbox,” he starts, trying to remember. “She dropped her mail, and it blew out into the street, so I went to get it for her. And on the walk back, she just started asking me questions. Apparently she and my mom were closer than I thought.”

“And that’s how you started working?” 

“First, it was community service. Just using the cash register- since we’re cashless, it’s nothing illegal to have me manage orders.”

“And she just thought you were an angel from the get-go, or something?” 

“Who doesn’t?” And you glare, mocking him like what he did to you earlier. Heeseung’s lips curl into a grin at your antics, never taking it to heart. 

“Me, obviously.” And it’s a half-lie, because secretly, Heeseung isn’t so bad. 

“Well,” he starts, motioning. “I don’t think there’s anything I do or could do that you’d like.” 

You splutter, “That’s not true!” And he raises an eyebrow at your indignant words. 

“Name one thing that you like about me.” 

“No!” You refuse, crossing your arms. “You already have a large enough ego from the teachers.” 

Heeseung rolls his eyes at you, tapping his hands tapping on the wheel impatiently. “That’s lame, ____. You’re just further proving my point.” 

With a sigh, you tell him, “I like how you helped us win in Taboo.” And he gives you a look. 

“Cop-out.” 

“What-? No!” Emptying your brain, you try to find something you truly like about the boy who makes life a living hell- or, well, used to (he still kind of does). “Okay, fine. I like that you care about my grandma.” 

Heeseung stays kind of quiet, not really sure what to do now that you’re once again being sincere. “Well, she’s like- the only person who doesn’t expect something from me.” 

Confusion floods your thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“I’m grateful for everyone in my life,” He prefaces. “But it’s no fun having to always work for people’s approval, sometimes, I wish that someone could just appreciate me for me, and that’s how your grandma is. No expectations with her. She’s just happy I’m still around- which, I know, is bare minimum, but at least I don’t have to try so hard for her to like me.” The light turns green, and the car rumbles as he slowly accelerates.

You mull over his confession. “Do I expect something from you then, too?”

“You expect me to perform well, because I always have- and therefore, I have to do well, or else you’ll just rub it in my face.” He states plainly, and you grimace for the second time today. 

“Sorry, I won’t do that anymore.” Heeseung waves you off. 

“It’s no big deal- plus, you weren’t the only one who thought I’d do well all the time. It’s something everyone thought of me. If anything, you were the one who just motivated me to always work harder.” 

“But isn’t that a good thing? To be the best?” 

He shakes his head and when you take a good look at him, Heeseung has a glassy look in his eye. “Sometimes, yes. A lot of the time, no. I just want to do well without anyone forcing that on to me. I don’t want the expectation to be perfect, because then, it’s so much easier for me to stumble.” You don’t realize just how much weight Heeseung carries on his back from the words of his peers and his family. And to you, he resembles a diamond; perfect, but from pressure. 

“Well, from now on, I won’t expect it from you. And if I do better, then I won’t rub it in your face. So that’ll make two people you won’t have to worry about.” The response he gives you is non-verbal, but his change in expression is first laced with surprise, and then silent appreciation.

“Thanks,” he says, once again at a loss for words. “I appreciate it.” 

You send Heeseung a smile, understanding how it feels to always have to do good. You can only hope that he gets his break from the pressure before he burns out. 

“Oh, I should tell you now. I can’t make it next Friday. I have plans, and I’d figure I’d let you know now so you could find someone to replace me.” He announces. When he looks over to see your response, you nod in understanding.

“What are you doing?” 

“Grad party.” Heeseung says plainly. “It’s Jake’s, so if I’m hungover, I’ll try to let you know if I’ll be good by morning.” 

“So considerate.” You comment, albeit a bit teasing. He scoffs, making the final turn before reaching your house. “To be expected from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” He questions. “And what kind of person am I?”

“Someone who’s going to have to work alone for the next two weeks if he doesn’t shut up.” He laughs, his eyes scrunching up as unlocks the car. “Thanks for the ride.” 

“Of course, ____.”

A few days go by, but one morning, you walk outside to see Heeseung parked in his car, scrolling on his phone- and it takes you walking up to him to roll the window down. 

“You didn’t even text me you were coming,” you start, pouting slightly. 

Heeseung pats the passenger side. “Just- get in, will you?” And you comply, never one to refuse a free trip to work. 

“So why today?” You ask, fiddling with your fingers and bag. “You usually never pick me up on Thursdays.”

“Since it’s your grandma’s birthday and all, I figured I could just pick you up, and drop you off. She called me yesterday asking to come over, and invite my parents, too. And they couldn’t come because of a work trip, but I promised her.” 

You stay silent. “Fuck, that’s today?” And Heeseung laughs- not at you, just at the situation. 

He nods, eyes still glued to the road. “Have you decided what you want to get her?”

“Flowers, definitely. Probably these treats she’s been thinking about getting from the store. I have this really nice collection of kitchen appliances that I know she’ll like.” And you’re rambling, but Heeseung makes no effort to stop you. “She loves to peel stuff by hand, but I was trying this thing out in the store and it actually works perfectly. Here, I’ll pull it up.” And he takes a quick look at the overpriced appliance, realizing that you also care immensely, but in different ways. “I still need to get her stuff, though- I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get to the flower shop if they close when we close.” And it leaves you dejected, since you know what flowers are her favorite, and how happy she’d be if she saw them on the table for a while. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Heeseung promises, and you nod, believing his words. 

You close a bit earlier than usual, and Heeseung writes on a small sticky note for patrons to come tomorrow. The bakery closes at 8:00 PM everyday, and usually 30 minutes can’t hurt- or at least, you hope it doesn’t. 

When you continue to anxiously check the clock, he comes to your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that “30 minutes is plenty of time.” 

“We have to walk there though, and clean up. There’s virtually no parking there ever since that other place opened up nearby.” And he curses, not taking something like that into consideration. While you might be ending earlier, you can’t just leave anything out in fear that someone’s going to try and break in, but you also don’t have nearly enough time to properly wash the dishes and wipe down the tables and counters. Instead, you both opt for putting away the large equipment and the food, turning off the lights so anyone who looks in gets the impression it’s closed with the lack of displays or people around. Then, you two can come back to finish organizing and preparing for tomorrow. 

His reassurance is easy to listen to, and Heeseung’s ability to figure out a plan is comforting in and of itself. You’re grateful he’s even willing to come with. 

“You can just wait in the car, really-“ 

Heeseung looks at you like you’re mad. “We talked about this,” he pressed. “It’s dangerous to go out alone. I have nothing to do in the car anyways.”

Finally, you shut off the lights and start dragging Heeseung’s arm, who’s still taking the key out of the lock as he’s being taken away by your impatience. Setting off in a brisk walk, you continue to check your phone, trying to beat time. Heeseung promises you once more that it’ll be okay, and you ask him what he got for your grandma to change the conversation. You both know her well, and your gifts reflect what qualities you care for most. You realize that Heeseung always keeps others in the back of his mind- like his thoughtful gift to Sunoo, with a handwritten card that Sunoo read a bit of to you guys before Heeseung stopped the further embarrassment. You didn’t realize it then, but the people in his life feel wanted all the time because he has the love to give them. 

You get there barely five minutes before 8:00 PM, and the discontent that washes over the shop owner’s face is apparent. “We’re closed,” she says, and you can’t imagine it’s easy to stay by yourself in a room so stuffy and full of pollen. You walk up to her with Heeseung following behind you, observing the way you practically beg for her to let you find some flowers. You promise you won’t take long, and she sighs, unraveling some of the wrapping paper she knows you’ll want. 

There aren’t many left now that the day is over- and you wonder what kind of people frequent the flower shops. Is it apologetic husbands trying to win over their disappointed wives? Is it children buying flowers for their parents and elders? Or is it people like you and Heeseung, who want to gift it to someone they care about?

“Can you trim the thorns?” And she shakes her head, continuing to ring your bouquet up. You feel horrible, understanding exactly how it feels when someone at the bakery asks for something so grandiose near closing, when your social battery has depleted and you don’t have any more smiles to give. And you know this, but you’re willing to go above and beyond if the shop owner is okay with it. The effort she’s put in already to cut the papers and ribbons to accentuate the flowers is already plenty, but it’s your grandma, and you make sure to come back to support her generously again. 

“Please,” you exhale, desperation and anger mixing in your tone. “I’ll pay extra.” With that, the shop owner sighs, taking your forty dollars and looking up as she opens the cash register. “Just keep it.” You say, in apology for earlier. She doesn’t decline the offer, and slides the crumpled bill into the slot with the rest of them, and ties a purple ribbon around the bouquet. 

You almost forget that he watches the whole ordeal, until the owner of the flower shop mutters a “couples these days” under her breath, and your eyes widen.

With profuse thanks, you grab the neatly wrapped flowers and leave, but the moment you turn the corner, you gawk. “Did you hear what she said?”

“That we’re a couple?” Heeseung brushes it off like it’s nothing. “Yeah. But- what kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t the one paying for them?” 

Heeseung paying for flowers to give to you- it’s a thought that leaves you quiet as your feet follow the same steps you took to get there. Of course he would- and you wonder if you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of it from him- or, actually, anyone for that matter. You’re not sure your mind automatically wants such a sweet gesture from Lee Heeseung himself.

“Thank you for coming, again.” 

“Quit worrying about bothering me,” and it’s like he can read your mind. “Believe it or not, I don’t mind being around you.” His sarcastic comment still holds that undercurrent of honesty, and it’s like he knows just what you need to hear. 

The walk back is much less stressful than the walk to. It falls back to that simple dynamic between two people who have begun to tolerate each other, full of little insults, hits to the side, and laughing. You finally make it back, and the sun paints the sky with swirling blue and pink. The sunset illuminates Heeseung’s side profile as he unlocks the door again, and when you finally pay attention to his jawline, or the gentle purse of his lips in concentration, you come to the conclusion that Heeseung is more than easy on the eyes. 

And as you two clean up, the flowers sit in the passenger seat; a symbol of care for your grandmother, and Lee Heeseung’s time well spent with you.

The trips with leftovers become more frequent, and his parents always remember who you are every time you come bearing gifts. “____!” They exclaim, returning the old tupperware with more dishes on top. It feels like at this point, your grandma cooks for them, and they cook for her just as much. 

“Go bother Heeseung, won’t you? We have dinner in a moment, but he’s been so busy with his work.” You smile at her, curious as to what he even has to do now that school’s over. “It’s the room to your left when you go up.” 

You knock on his door and he yells in response, telling you to come in. Under the assumption that it’s his family, Heeseung goes wide-eyed when he notices it’s you in his messy room with his pajamas and old t-shirts strewn here and there. 

“I did not expect it to be you,” he mumbles, quickly getting out of his chair to fix his covers and pick up a sock. A laugh bubbles from your throat with the way he’s scrambling to make things presentable right before you. 

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be staying long anyways. Your mom told me to drag you downstairs because you were too invested in your work.” He looks sheepish as he mumbles a quick apology, and after the quick tidying, he shuts his laptop and organizes his desk. “What do you even have to do anyways?” 

“I’m just making music- I started this internship with an entertainment company where they let me shadow a producer and offer input on some unreleased songs for their artists- so I’m just looking at the tracks and making demos.” 

“They let you do that? I figured shadowing wasn’t possible for a company so big.” He nods, a smile dusting his features, and you can tell he takes pride in what he’s accomplished.

You’re about to ask more, but a call of your names from downstairs leaves you two quickly walking down. 

“Have dinner with us!” His dad tells you, and you want to tell him you already ate a bit, but the noodles look delicious, and you agree to only eat a little bit. You glance over at Heeseung, but he offers a small smile as he pulls out a chair for you. 

And so it begins again, but just without your grandmother. 

“____, what are you planning to do in the future?” Heeseung’s dad starts. 

“I’m planning to study Biology in the fall at uni.” You start. “I had an internship last summer before senior year, and I really learned a lot from it, so I knew what I wanted to do by the time I applied for schools.” His mother praises you, as all Asian mothers do, and you can see why Heeseung is so kind-hearted by the way his parents speak to you. 

The conversation naturally switches from your plans to Heeseung’s, as they talk about his pursuit in music production. 

“I’m sure he’s doing a good job, I’m always in classes with him, and there’s nothing you need to worry about.”

His mother continues, however. “I mean, there’s always ways kids can get ahead. I always tell him to apply for things early, and he could’ve gotten more scholarships and finished his internship last summer if he wasn’t so behind. But he’s doing it now, so there's nothing we can say about it.” Her words rub you the wrong way immensely. While your own parents were never the most involved in your high school academics and were supportive of any career path you chose, they never placed an expectation on you to do the best and overachieve. But you get the sense that for Heeseung, no matter how supportive they were, it was never really good enough. It’s torturous.

But, you don’t really know how to respond, humming to ease the growing silence instead. “That’s always true, but I know a lot of people look up to him, including me. He’s doing great regardless of when he does it.” No matter how gently you put it, you know it’s in total opposition to how they think and feel when it comes to their own son, but you can only hope that it helps ease the tension.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly, with the discussion of your summer and how things have been with friends, parties, and planned trips. You finish their food quickly, complimenting Heeseung’s mother’s cooking once again and watching her face light up. 

“You should head home, we don’t want your grandma to be too worried.” His dad starts, and you agree, quick to grab your bag. Heeseung takes the containers from your hand and starts putting on his sandals. “I’ll walk you home.” Despite your refusal to let him carry your things, he insists, and you miss the way his mom stares fondly at you two from the kitchen island. 

The warm summer air gives you the illusion that it’s not so late, and with the way light still peaks from the horizon, you feel less tired the later the summer nights get. 

The boy next to you speaks up first. “Did you mean it?” You sneak a glance at his relaxed posture, a hand in his sweatpants and bangs on his forehead. 

“What part?” 

“Any part.” 

You nod, feeling almost incredulous that he thought you’d make up something like that after you two agreed to be on good terms.

“Of course, Hee- I wouldn’t lie about that stuff, especially not to your parents.” 

“I’m sorry about them, by the way.” He reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “They have high expectations sometimes, I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable to hear them talk about me like that so openly.” The first instinct you have is to reach for his shoulder, making eye contact with him and offering a semblance of comfort before you walk across the street. 

“No, you don’t need to apologize for stuff like that. I’m sorry your parents hold you to those kinds of expectations.” 

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” 

“But the problem is, you shouldn’t have to be used to it. You’ve genuinely done so much and you deserve some recognition rather than someone always telling you to do better.”

It goes quiet, but you don’t choose to bring anything else up, enjoying the crickets chirping and the gentle breeze that carries you home. 

You stop outside your door and unlock it, inviting him in to say hi to your grandmother.

“Thank you,” you tell him as he’s leaving. “For walking me home.” 

Heeseung simply shakes his head. “It was nothing, really. Thank you for seeing my parents again and whatnot.” He smiles, waving at you before walking back, and a grin makes its way onto your face before you even notice it. 

Your phone dings at an hour earlier than you expected to get up, and it leaves you in an annoyed mood while you turn off your alarms.

hee: dude you HAVE to come in we just got a huge order for triple chocolate cake they said they’d pay extra if we finished by today

y/n: help wtf r u doing at the bakery 

hee: i was making brownies i asked ur grandma this morning if i could

y/n: what for…

hee: because i had a craving ??? what else..

y/n: oh LOL ok ill be there in 30

Originally, you and Heeseung were going to have the day off, and your aunt and grandma were going to work instead- but the tempting offer from Heeseung leaves you explaining why you have to come in for work, and that they should stay at home. You say anything that comes to mind, but they know you wouldn’t let them come with the way you were dressed and already grabbing your shoes and keys.

When you finally rush to the doors, you see Heeseung cutting into the chocolate treats, and when you two make eye contact, he shoves the piece in his mouth and nods. 

“Gross.” You comment, laughing. 

He says something intangible, and you shake your head, putting on your apron.

The amount of work you two have put in is simply criminal to be fake, and the day off you have is getting darker the longer you two stay.

You voice your concerns. “Do you think they’re lying about the tip?What they told you seems like much.” 

Heeseung shrugs, and sprinkles sea salt over the piece he picks up. “I’d hope it’s true. They seemed pretty desperate. I called them back today telling them their order would be done soon, so if they show up and pay more, that’d be great.” 

“I’m glad you’re so optimistic.” You laugh. 

“I have to be, because you’re definitely not.” Heeseung laughs when he sees the scowl on your face. 

“Oh yeah? I think I’m at least a little better than the time you spilled the tapioca pearls and then talked about how everyone had it out for you that day.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Between the two of us, I’ll always hear you saying ‘fuck, i dropped the spoon’ more.” His teasing has you smiling. 

“Focus on your lettering. Or do you need someone to hold your hand and help you?” You lean over to look at him spelling CONGRATS with brown icing. “You messed up.” Nitpicking, you point out a random loop and make fun of him for it despite it not looking bad at all. 

“I did not!” He huffs defensively. “I want to see you try.” He passes you the bag, and you get a piece of plastic wrap on the counter before starting. 

“Lee Heeseung sucks.” He reads. “Did you seriously write that?” You laugh at how offended he is, and the boy next to you is quick to pull the bag from your hand to start piping. halfway through the word ‘hate,’ you elbow his side, and it causes his letter ‘t’ to be dragged too far.

“Hey!” He runs over, smearing a bit of icing on your forehead before you duck and try to avoid all his other attacks. The laughs bubble from your stomach, the adrenaline causing you two to chase each other around the kitchen. You’re not even sure what Heeseung would do if he catches you, but you don’t want to find out. 

“I think we should package those cakes!” You remind him, albeit as a distraction. He sighs, crossing his arms in defeat before agreeing and heading back over. You narrowly avoid his glare, a wide smile on your face as you hum in victory. It’s a bit past closing, and he makes sure to flip the sign, still keeping the light on. 

The customer rings the phone, telling Heeseung that she’ll be there in a few minutes. By the time you’ve boxed all three cakes and cleaned up any edges, she walks in. You ring her up at the counter, and she pulls out her largest bills, telling you to take the change as a gift. You two both thank her immensely, making sure she can carry the cakes out to her car before closing for the night. 

When Heeseung enters through the front door, immediately you start cheering. “We just got paid tonight, Hee!” 

The boy grins, subtracting the total from the amount she gave, and it’s clear that she was being serious when she said she would pay extra. “I think this calls for celebration.” 

You don’t really have an excuse to see him outside of work, and the idea of being alone in a non-bakery setting feels scarily new. 

And you’re about to make up an excuse about how you have to be home (you don’t), but your stomach makes a low sound, and it serves as an answer in place of your faltering words. 

“I’m thinking Korean.”

You don’t expect to learn something new about Lee Heeseung, until you see him order two bowls of stir fried ramen despite the restaurant serving much more elegant dishes. 

“Ramen?” A glance at the menu has you reading one of the more expensive meals offered. “You could’ve had- I don’t know, their Honey Garlic Short Ribs.” 

He scrunches his nose in disapproval as a testament to how much he adores his instant noodles. “It’s just not the same. We barely have noodles at home, since my mom always insists on making it from scratch or boiling them in those big packages. Never just ramen.” You take a sip of your water, surprised. 

“You don’t have ramen? God, come over more often, I’ll make you some.” You suggest lightheartedly. 

He glances over, taking you up on the offer. “Woah- me, in your space?” You send him a glare, looking away and ignoring his laughs. 

The food comes relatively quickly, and he looks over what you’ve gotten to judge it. “It looks good. Let me have some.” He says, reaching over with his wooden chopsticks. 

You gasp at his suddenness, quick to refuse and to drag your plate away from him as you pick up a short rib and eat it before he can. The meat tastes wonderfully marinated and tender, and you don’t realize that the haphazard way you tried to eat it left some sauce on your mouth. Heeseung glances over with a frown, about to comment on how incredibly stingy you are until he notices there’s red sauce on your chin, and grabs his tissue. 

“Here.” He says, tapping you on the shoulder. And silently, he wipes it off, to make sure you won’t have to walk around with people seeing and saying anything. 

“Oh- thanks.” It’s pathetic the way your throat dries up, and how you force yourself to drink your water and move on. You hear about this only in movies- about male leads you turn to burns and wax poetic about how much they love you. You don’t expect it to happen so suddenly.

“Is yours any good?” You ask, averting your gaze. His fried eggs and boiled shrimp sit neatly on his stir fried noodles, the presentation better than you could ever make it at home. 

With a shrug, he replies, “We’ll see.” He tries some, and you see a satisfied grin on his features. 

“Is ramen really that good, Hee?” His enthusiastic nods tell you all you need to know as you continue eating, your pile of bones growing ever so slowly. You two make small talk, about his recent beach trip, or about you rafting with your friends. He talks of college- about going away and his fears of growing up. You tell him you’re scared to dorm, since you’ve been around your family for so long, and you share each other’s sentiments about the rapidly approaching adulthood you’ll both have to face. It’s nice like this, not to bicker and to argue and to despise him. It’s nice to just exist around Lee Heeseung, and you wonder why you haven’t done something like this before- sitting next to him and being able to talk freely about the interests and questions you share. 

You guess that it was just the timing- you were both always so stressed from school, unable to properly sit down to sort out your emotions. And yeah- summer is a new slate, and this year feels just a bit more life-changing than the rest of them. 

“You eat so slow.” And you shoot him yet another scowl, picking up some rice. 

“You ordered ramen and you eat like you’ve been starved for three years.” 

“Whatever. I’ll cover the bill?” 

Narrowing your eyes, you try to remember if you two had discussed anything about payments before. “No- I thought we were just going to split the bill.”

He doesn’t seem to care too much. “I’ll pay for you, since I couldn’t have done it without you,” refering to all the baking you did today.  

Exasperated, you refute his horrible reasoning. “I wouldn’t have even found out about her order if you weren’t there. Just let me split it.” You reach out expectantly, and he retracts the receipt, clutching it close. 

“Just pay me back sometime for something else,” and it’s the last thing he says before turning on his heel and leaving you with your agape. 

When you clean up and join him in the car, the first thing you tell him is that he’s ‘annoying,’ and ‘so stubborn it hurts.’ 

Heeseung just laughs at you, telling you it’s nothing special- like he’s used to paying for others. And thinking about how many people come in to ask him for his number or hope for a date, your assumption makes sense- that he does these things for everyone, and you’re not an outlier in any way. 

When the bakery is one chestnut haired boy short, things are much less interesting. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me.” You joke when Heeseung begins to undo his apron. 

“You can come,” He offers with a small yet sincere smile on his face. “I asked, you all know each other anyways.” You feel your heart stir with the way Heeseung keeps you in his thoughts. 

All you do is refuse his offer. “I have to rewatch my rom-coms.” You wave him off, and within minutes, you’re left alone. The quiet music plays and the bell jingles every so often as patrons come for pick-up orders or drinks. Thankfully it was slow for a Friday, and you weren’t rushing around the shop.

There’s a girl who’s around your age who walks in, curious as to who’s taking her order before making eye contact with you emerging from behind the curtain. 

“Where’s the boy you usually work with?” She says, getting a list of what her and her friends wanted. “I’ve been meaning to ask for his number.” 

You can’t lie and say you’re indifferent to her question, but nonetheless, you take her order and give her his phone number saved in his contact. “He’s not dating anyone, so don’t worry.” You tell her, handing over the receipt. She smiles, and your heart tightens a little at the thought of Heeseung. One of you two is well-liked, one out of the two of you is perfect in every way, and it wasn’t you. 

Without any of your usual weekly plans with your friends, the drive home was quiet as you figured out what to do for the weekend. You would feel bad every time your grandma had to take a shift despite her recovering quickly, and despite her being excited to work again. When home, you decide to make dinner, change, clean up around the house, and retreat to your old room. The show you were catching up on until the wee hours of night was interrupted, and a familiar contact flashes on the screen. 

“Heeseung?” You ask, confused. It’s 12:00 AM. 

“____-ie.” The line giggles a bit before you hear some shuffling. “My head hurts.” 

You’re a bit shocked to hear him like this, but you’re not going to hang up on him and leave him confused. “Did you drink too much?” You ask, trying to choose your words carefully. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung responds, sighing. “I lost a bet, _____. And I lost cup pong, too.” He sounds dejected, like a hurt puppy as he elongates his syllables and pauses between thoughts. “I was going to tell you something.” 

“That you can’t come in for work tomorrow? You sound out of it, Heeseung.” 

He groans, and more shuffling comes from his side. “Yeah, but I can’t drive, ____-ie.” You cringe at the nickname, but refuse to say anything about it with the way he’s acting now.  “No one else can take me home, and my parents can’t know.” He sounds stressed, and you’re quick to reassure him before he starts crying. 

“Where are you?” 

“You’ll pick me up?” Heeseung asks, his tone filled with elation. 

“Maybe. Depends on how I feel in the next 10 minutes.” 

“I’ll cover your shifts anytime, I’ll drive you home, I’ll buy food for you, I’ll sneak you out…” He continues to ramble about all the favors he could do for you, and you laugh before getting out of bed.  

“You better mean it.” 

“I want to see you.” You know he just wants to go home, you know he doesn’t mean anything else with his words. You know he just wants to sober up and go to sleep. 

You know it’s nothing more between you two, yet your heart still beats wildly with every minute you drive, the words echoing in your head. 

“I got you water, and some food- I have no idea if you ate or not.” Is the first thing you tell him when he stumbles out of the house and into your car. 

Heeseung’s one drowsy blink away from falling asleep, and you have to shake him away to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep with a hangover. “Hee!” You rush to park on a random sidewalk before unbuckling your seatbelt. 

You brush back his red hair, pushing his curly bangs away and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He slowly blinks, adjusting to the proximity between you two. You shove a water bottle in his hand before getting a tissue to wipe the light sheen off of his skin. 

“What are you doing, hm?” And his voice, rough with exhaustion, has you quiet for a moment as your skin gets hot. 

Despite your heart thrumming faster, you force yourself to answer simply. “You’re going to have a hangover.” 

He opens his water, drinking almost a third before he leans back. “My head still hurts.” He whines, and you have to laugh. 

“Here,” you suggest, opening the tupperware of fried rice. “Eat.” 

He refuses, continuing to drink from his water, and you don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. Instead, you grab a spoon. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” You mumble, starting to break up the fried egg and mix it all together.

After the first bite, “It’s good,” He says simply. “I’m glad I got to see you.” 

You feel the incessant pounding in your eardrums and your whole face feels hot. “Eat, before you throw up.” 

“I missed you.” Despite the harmless intention, you can’t stand to let Heeseung sweet-talk you, and it almost frustrates you to know there’s no weight to his words.

You roll your eyes at him and force him to finish his water. “Sober up before you get home.” 

In the quiet of the night, in the small neighborhood with everyone asleep, no one would know about the loudness of your chest, about how his eyes still hold his twinkle as he gazes tiredly at you, letting him dote on him. 

You continue to make sure he drinks and eats, and you’re so engrossed in taking care of him that you don’t realize how little the distance is between you. Making eye contact with him leaves you stunned into silence, but Heeseung says nothing to dispel what���s between you two. He reaches up, his palm cupping your jaw, and you swear, past the alcohol, there’s the faint fresh scent of the ocean, one that you recognize from being around him so often. 

You hold your breath, keeping the box in your steady as you wait for what he’s about to do next. He stares in silent question, glancing only to your lips and back up. It’s like time doesn’t even pass anymore, like a moment written in eternity when you brush away some of his hair.

You swear you’re about to kiss Lee Heeseung for the first time in your life. 

Instead, you cough and duck from his intimate stare, and he pulls away. The heat of his thumb still lingers on your cheek, and the way he looks at you doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“You’re feeling better, right? I’ll drive you home.” 

The wind whips against your window and the streets lay bare as you turn into his neighborhood. It’s all you can do. You can’t be in love, not with Heeseung. 

Heeseung texts you profusely the next day, apologizing before he leaves the house to see you in person. ‘i’m sorry if anything happened last night, please let me know if I overstepped a boundary,’ and despite his words being through text, your mouth feels like it’s dried up, and that you have no idea what to tell him. You send him something vague about driving yourself, nothing that alludes to how your heart raced and skipped a few beats, and how you still think about the gentle way he caresses your jaw. 

How are you supposed to pretend things were the same? Like you weren’t watching him, like his gaze wasn’t with care, and his touches were not electric. How could you pretend that you weren’t slowly falling for Lee Heeseung?

“Did I,” He starts as he rushes through the door. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Shaking your head, you continue to crush up the cookies in their topping container. “I just don’t want to bother you with driving me around anymore.” 

“But you’re not a bother.” Heeseung can barely recall what happened yesterday, and he doesn’t know what caused your sudden lack of interest with your texts from the morning. “Look, ____-” 

In a desperate attempt to push down your unreturned feelings and return things to how they were, you cut him off. “Heeseung, drop it.” 

The day stretches for an eternity, and Heeseung knows something’s wrong. As one last chance to fix things before he goes, he speaks up. “Please, what did I do?” 

And you want to oh-so desperately tell him that last night, you were about to kiss, that the distance between you two was so finite and the way he looked at you had your stomach churning with butterflies. That somewhere, you realized just how similar you two were- that Lee Heeseung understood hard work, he paid attention to the little things, he related to and comforted you in the times that you felt like you were never enough. And those are just the handful of reasons why. You never knew just how well you truly knew him until you evaluated the years you’ve spent together. Some things you pick up subconsciously; like the way he fidgets or nervously smiles when a girl asks for his number, or the way he always looks back at you when he rejects her advances. It’s weird how quickly the knots that made your relationship so complicated suddenly untangle. It’s really just this long windy string that connects you and him, and within the miscommunication, it’s gone awry. 

You and him are in the same vein, and with how much time you spend with each other, it’d be criminal if you didn’t slowly fall for the way he sings along the radio or how he started to open your door. He cares, in all of the minuscule tiny ways that make your heart ache so terribly. “Nothing, it’s…” It’s almost sick how your mind immediately wanders to some stupid scenario where you and Heeseung ended whatever was going on between you two, and you admitted feelings to each other. Heeseung drives you around in his car, Heeseung comes to your house with baked goods he made himself, Heeseung’s eyes glitter when you two get good scores on a test, telling you how happy he is. “It’s just nothing.” You tell him, not really sure what to make of your feelings at all. And while your emotions towards the boy are new and fresh, they're so real- it snowballs fast.

“It’s not nothing if something’s changed between us.” He reasons, a look in his eye begging you to explain. 

“It should be nothing, Heeseung. We’ve never gotten along, so what’s the difference now?” The words leave a burn on your tongue, and you hate the way Heeseung looks away for a moment before he agrees. 

“Right.” He says, monotone and lifeless. “Why bother?” 

And you’re angry with yourself for the way you nod, taking your things. You want to scream in his face that you’ve begun to tolerate Lee Heeseung, in more ways than one. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, you care for him, you want him to be yours. 

“Okay- Hee, wait.” You falter in your decisions, your heartstrings pulling you in an enchanting way towards him- against all rational. “I’m sorry.” You can’t let a good thing go, you can’t risk never talking to him again, simply because you don’t know what it’s like to live life without him. You see him in every memory, in every class photo, and you can’t bear to be the reason you two stop talking- all because you were too scared to speak your mind.

He turns around, waiting for you to continue, crossing his arms as he proceeds to lean against the counter. If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit that Lee Heeseung is one of the most attractive people you’ve met. 

“Do you mean it?” You ask, feeling foolish. He should be asking you that- after what you’ve just told him.

Heeseung takes a step closer, his gaze on the ground as he nears the cash register, slowly closing the distance between you two.

“Do you mean it?” He asks, his voice small. There’s still space between you two, and it feels like oceans apart. And you soak up his words for consideration, truly questioning if you did. 

“No, Heeseung-“ You stare at the blinds, looking around the space only to realize just how secluded you two were- that no one outside of the bakery would know just what loops and hurdles you two had been through to get here. “I could never. I shouldn’t have said it.” 

“Is it true, then? That we get along, now?” His slow steps finally leave the crunching of his shoes in front of you, and you nod your head. And after he sees your confirmation, he continues. “How do you feel about me, ____?”

Your surprised gaze meets his, and you see the small smile on his lips, and the almost playful look in his eye indicating that he’s not really hurt anymore.

“I hate you, Lee Heeseung.” You say, emboldened by his teasing. “I hated you for spilling all of that applesauce on me when we were eight, I hate how you get along with everyone, I hate how you act like you’re better than me.” You pause, to think of more, but his hand reaches up to cup your chin, pointing up to make sure you’re looking at him. 

“I hate all that humming you do at work,” you start, your voice small, feeling shy now that he’s forced to make eye contact (which is extremely attractive and turns your legs into jelly). “Or your piping skills, or how good your macarons taste compared to mine.”

Heeseung is so dangerously close, like how you were just last night. “What else?” He goads you on, wanting to hear just how much more you have left. 

“I hate everything about you,” You barely murmur above a whisper with him being so close to you. “But I’d hate it if you didn’t return my feelings, either.” 

He smiles, finally hearing you admit the very things that’s been plaguing your relationship with the idea of more. 

“Anything more to add?” 

You scoff, reaching up and tangling your hands in his hair. The last thing that reaches Lee Heeseung’s ears are the words, “You’re so annoying,” before you crash your lips into his. 

Your kiss with Heeseung satisfies a longing that’s lasted for a while- to know what it felt like to be so close to him, to kiss his rosy lips just once. It’s tantalizing- the way you can’t pull away, and the way he doesn’t let you with how his hand rests on your lower back to pull you closer. When your hold on his hair loosens slightly, he gingerly lets you lean back. Your forehead comes to rest with his as you open your eyes, letting out a slow breath as you think about the ghost of his kiss on your lips. He’s hesitant to separate from you completely, and rests his hand on your waist instead. 

You smile, biting your lip so you don’t giggle like an excited girl who’s just told her friends about a measly interaction with her crush. Your heart feels like a floating balloon, and your lips stretch into a grin, prompting Heeseung to smile at you, too. 

An idiot. That’s what you both look like. But when Lee Heeseung presses a small kiss on your forehead and intertwines your fingers, you couldn’t care less. 

“Heeseung, stop piping heart macarons, it’s embarrassing.” He rolls his eyes at you and adjusts the piping bag with red macaron batter inside. 

He mimics you childishly, and you want to scoop the lemon curd to plop on his head. “Stop piping heart macarons, yeah, okay, so why do I see you eating them?”

“I don’t. I’d never.” You’re lying, and you both know that, but Heeseung entertains your false narrative a bit more. 

“I’ll have you know, the lady at the law firm a few blocks down came here earlier and ordered some of them.” He retorts. You stick your tongue out at him and continue to mix the drink you’ve been preparing.

“What does she want them for, hm? I can imagine she’s in the season of love in July.” He laughs at your childish comment, continuing to pipe out almost identical hearts onto the baking sheet. 

“Maybe she loves her partner so much and wants to shower them in affection.” He grins, alluding to your relationship. You want to flick him across the forehead, rolling your eyes and walking over after finishing your drink for a to-go order. 

With an elbow on the counter, you watch him from the side as he diligently fills in the heart outlines. “You’ve always liked my macarons, though.” He reminds you. “Remember? You said it when we k-“

“Can you shut up about that?” You cut him off, feeling embarrassed. “It was like- a month ago.” 

It’s your exasperation that fuels him to tease you further. “It was a good kiss, was it n-“

You bump his shoulder, and he messes up one of the macarons, pausing before looking up at you. “Hey!” He whines, frowning. “These are supposed to be for that lawyer, remember?” 

You roll your eyes, and you know when Heeseung lies through his teeth. “Yeah, yeah,” You mutter, using a clean finger to wipe at the edge to make it look nice once more. You play along with his lie. “And we definitely fell in love because of cupid.” 

my baby is done!! as always pleaseeeeee let me know what you think!! even if it is just 'hdefhjfhds' that means the world to me!!!

reblogs are appreciated!! reblogs w comments are da best and asks !! let me know what you think NO JUDGEMENT!

tagging @sumzysworld !

send ask or dm if you'd like to be added to my perm taglist

[hvlplvss]

| still around

summary: in which colby manages to communicate to his childhood best friend through cody and satori.

warnings: angsty tbh, this is a best!friend!colby x reader btw, mentions of death

authors note: kinda short and i lowkey don’t like this

hell week had just begun for sam and colby. not even fifteen minutes ago, cody and satori had explained and begun to showcase their methods of communicating to spirits. which immediately baffled the duo.

a spirit named abigail arnold, had come through. she was called a friendly spirit, the matriarch of the conjuring house. she’d also managed to bring sam’s grandma through, libby golbach. this of course, freaked sam and the boys took a break, to which the spirits agreed.

as sam had recovered from the contact with his late grandma. the two walked back into the living room of the house. cody and satori checked in on sam, before continuing once again.

the workers connected their hands, by holding one another’s wrists. “hi,” satori began, footsteps echoed a moment after, “is this abigail i’m talking to?” the spirit responded with one step. “great! thank you abigail. is there anything else you need to tell me, or tell sam and colby?”

the ghost responded with two footsteps, satori nodded, beginning to spell out the alphabet. it began to spell out your name.

colby’s eyes widened and his hands dropped to his sides. sam recognised the name from when colby first spoke about the loss of his childhood friend at only 14 years old. sam immediately panned the camera towards colby.

eventually, satori had spelt out your entire name. y/n y/l/n. satori and cody turned to look at the boys and noticed colby’s watery eyes. “does that name mean something..?” satori asked carefully.

colby nodded slowly, trying to take a calming breath, “she’s was my bestfriend. uh- she passed when i was fourteen,” colby explained a slight pause between words, reminiscing the thought of the girl.

satori nodded, turning back to cody and grabbing onto him, “abigail, is there anything y/n wants colby to know?” there was silence for a few moments, colby looking up with hopeful eyes, while sam and the camera watched him.

there were five footsteps around the living room. cody and satori nodded, sharing one glance as satori began saying the alphabet.

always watching

the sentence began with. colby’s hand reached up to wipe away the stray tears that seeped from his eyes.

and loving you.

colby stood up and let a few more tears leak from his eyes. satori noticed this and asked abigail for a break, checking that it was okay with y/n as well, who agreed.

colby walked outside with colby following after him, just like they had already done not long ago after they got through to libby.

“dude, how you feeling?” sam asked, turning the camera light on.

colby stood there, wiping both his eyes with one hand. “it’s… it’s just pretty crazy. like we spoke to your grandma, and now y/n?” colby whispered, his voice hoarse. “and i’ve never spoke about her. anywhere. she’s always been apart of my like private life and i’ve only really told you about her, so it’s just crazy to think that she’s there and she’s safe,” colby explained.

sam agreed, turning the camera so he was now also in frame with colby, “and just to think that my grandma and y/n, who are some of the most important people in our lives, are together. it’s sad but so nice to think and know,”

throughout the week, when satori and cody communicated with abigail, y/n was always there. when satori would ask if any other spirits were there, y/n’s name always popped up.

usually, she didn’t have another message for sam or colby. by every so often, she’d warn the boys about what lurks in the house, wanting to keep the boys safe. but sam and colby being sam and colby of course ignored the warning signs from both abigail and y/n.

ever since the first interaction with y/n, colby had begun opening up to the viewers about y/n and her passing. he’d mentioned her on his social media, sharing that she was the one who gave him the idea to create a channel in the future. she never specified what, but she’d put the idea in his head and he’d forever be grateful for the girl he once knew.

when entering places as the basement and they’d ask for abigail’s protection, he’d quietly mutter to y/n, praying for her to stay by his side.

[m1sa-w1sa]

Can you do all the fatui their react to that y/n was hiding traumatised past and that blaming them self and hide it all , and of course they comfort y/n beaxuse they always help the fauti with their problems

(Okie dokie! Coming right up!)

You are mine and I am yours

Pierro

•He probably found out if you told him upfront or he found you crying someplace

•when he told you spit it out he was shocked it would’ve been torture to go through that

•even if he might not be the best he would try everything that he has to make you feel better

•If it you were dating he would hold you close by your waist whispering nothing but sweetness in your ears

•If platonic he would make you a cup of tea or your favorite dish letting you cry on his shoulder

“Everything is alright dear..”

Capitano

•He would know somethings wrong when you started acting distant, maybe slightly sloppy on missions, more sleepy

•If he saw you crying he would quickly ask whats wrong his mask covering his slight worried expression

•If Romantic he would pull you close wrapping you in his coat with him sitting on his lap or just standing with him

•If Platonic he would take you for a walk maybe get you ice cream or something to eat after to make you feel better making sure to check in with you time to time

“You should’ve told me sooner.”

Dottore

•So you guys had little meet ups when your not with the other harbingers but if you miss that meet up he would go find you himself

•If he saw you in your room he would tilt your chin up as you tell him everything

•If romantic he would stay with you laying your head in his lap while doing his paperwork

•If Platonic he would hug you just really that patting your back soothing you slowly

(Your gonna have to know him for a really ling time for him to act like this towards you)

“Your foolish for not saying anything”

Columbina

•If you two were by each other sides alot she would quickly notice your different personality she would confront you

•When you tell her either platonic or romantic she would sing you a soft lullaby with your head on her lap as she would just caress your cheek softly

“Poor little you why didnt you say anything?”

Arlecchino

•Arlecchini works with kids so its noticed rather quickly

•It doesnt just go away lightly Alrecchibo sits and talks to you

•Romantic she would hold you on her lap letting you talk

•Platonic she would make your favorite food or drink

“You know I care..”

Punichella

I think I spelt his name wrong

• I dont really know how to write for him so ill try my best

•He is kinda like the cool grandpa that gives you good advice so im not going ti do a romantic for him

•He would make you tae and sit and chat with you letting you cry on his shoulder

Scaramouche

•Hes more colder than the others but if your with him most of the time hes going to notice

•When he finds out he would make you speak trying to get every single thing off of your chest, If romantic he would sit and cuddle you, kicking out anyone else that comes in

•A little same with Platonic hut your just next to him holding his hand tightly

“Idiot..”

Sandrone

•Again with her going in depth is a little hard for me but anyways!!!

•She would confront you immediately asking you questions about it

•Both romantic or Platonic she would carry you with her on her robot holding your hard caressing the back of your hand with her thumb softly

“Quite stupid to not say something..”

La Signora

•She loves you lots Platonic or Romantic

•she knows what pain feels like same with Scaramouche

•Either Platonic or romantic she would play with your hair brushing it out, doing different styles, adding accessories anything just to clam you down

“Your hair is tangled”

Pantalone

•So when he found out he would be worried for you

•He would ask you to tell him every single thing you like to tell him

•Both Romanic and Platonic he would take you shopping, spoiling your rotten only difference if romantic he would also take you on dates aswell

“Pick anything you like darling..”

Tartaglia

•He has siblings so he also notices quite quickly so he would find you as soon as possible to sit you down to have a chat

•He would cuddle you for maybe more than a hour as you talk patting your back, caressing your hair

•He would spoil you aswell and if romantic he would take you on dates aswell!!

(Finished!! This was fun but also pretty hard to write but i uope u enjoyed!)

[neoclb]

MEETCUTE . . .

❥ in which you go on a horrible date, but meetcute the waiter

pairing. rintaro suna x f!reader

wc. 578

a/n. i wrote thisbto distract the factthat i havebt updated ggez even though this is a totallydifderent fabdom :p enjoy

your heels clacked against the cemented pavement. you were currently about to be late to meet up with your tinder date for the first time. you’ve never downloaded tinder before last tuesday and you pray to the ones above that you don’t get surprised by an undercover seventy-something year old.

finally, you reach the fancy restaurant with a nicely decorated exterior your date told you to meet him at. it was definitely out of your tax bracket; you are definitely going to make a second dinner after this.

upon entering the restaurant, a woman with a slick-back bun who looked like she was in her thirties, probably, immediately walked up to you.

“how many?” she asked, with a stoic expression.

“uh-“ you were honestly terrified of the woman staring you down. “i have a reserved table with um — kosei tsuburaba?”

the woman nodded her head and started walking away, queuing you to follow right behind. you pass by multiple seemingly happy couples until you reach a table with a free seat at the end of the hall. you slightly nod and smile at the woman who leaves the menu on top of the table whilst walking away.

you look over to your date. he was definitely cute; he looked just like his profile, if not better. you take your seat, looking at the apathetic man. “yn right?” his voice was flat and seemed much less ecstatic than the texts he would send days prior. you nod, not wanting to seem rude. upon sitting down, you were caught off guard with the comment made by the man. “you, uh, look a lot different from your pictures. do you photoshop them?”

your jaw physically dropped and you were too much in disbelief to speak. your expression probably stunned your date too because neither of you noticed the waiter who was already there. “excuse me? are you two ready to order?” you turn your head to face the waiter – whose name tag spelt out rintaro suna, but before you could utter a word, kosei spoke up.

“i actually already ate before this.” he stands up, leaving an even more shocked look on your face. with a smile on his face he says, “enjoy your meal yn!” and leaves you on your own.

“what the fuck.” you mutter, cursing him for being absolutely unbelievable and yourself for wasting your time by downloading tinder in the first place. it was when you lean back into your chair where you realize that the waiter was still standing next to your table.

you take a good look at him — he had a nonchalant expression to his flawless face – he takes a good look at you. the brain fog wears off after that humiliating experience. “oh my god. i’m so sorry.” you grab your purse and stand up.

he looked awfully calm, as if he goes through the scene everyday. “it’s totally okay,” he gave a small smirk. “that guy’s a total asshole.”

you smile and nod before you turn around and start heading towards the exit. “wait,” you hear the same voice come from behind you. turning around, hoping you wouldn’t be charged for wasting his time, you were met with the sweet eyes of the suna. “i’ll give you my number.”

you were confused and tilted your head to express it. suna understood this gesture and blurted out, “so i can take you on a proper date.”

[xllizs]

Surfs up! Lifeguard!Toji x bad surfer!Reader

not rlly proof read / TAGS: Smut w/ plot, Age gap (reader is 22 and toji is 30) size kink, size difference, all characters are 18+, low-key bimbo coded but not rlly, pet names (ex. doll), praise, lifeguard, beach, surfer, hotel room sex, toji with a white tank top and red trunks (and a whistle), life guard tall chair things but a big one, extra character(s): gojo (ps. if toji is spelt "tori" please don't bring it up, I hate my MacBook.)

Today you were gonna surf,

At least that's what you told yourself this morning.

You got outside of your hotel with the strong scent of sea salt, remembering how close you were to the beach. You had a bikini on while holding your hot pink and white surf board.

You used to surf so much when you were younger, but after college you really haven't. You decided this vacation was it.

The hotel you booked was practically on the beach with great waves that amazed you. You had to take the opportunity!

As you strutted down the railing you spot a black haired man on his way back from the lifeguard tower,

and oh god, he was hot.

You almost trip over yourself from staring at him while walking. His tank top fit him so well and hugged all the right places. The way his whistle bounced off his chest when he walked, you swore your mouth was watering. But you can't let him distract you. You told yourself you would surf!

You sprint a little toward a nice spot to sit at, "Hey!" You hear a shout and freeze. You look towards where the noise came from "Yeah?" you shout back. You realize its the black haired man from earlier.

"You surfing?" he questions you.

You look at him, then your surf board, and back at him, "Yeah I am" your brows furrow, confused on why he's asking. "We are just trying to let everyone know that the current is really strong today, so just be careful." he alerts you with a small smile.

You look at the ocean and wince but look back at him "Ohh alright, thank you!"

its not that you aren't a good swimmer, you just aren't a strong swimmer.

Looking around there aren't too many people right now at the beach, just surfers. You assume the lack of people is because of the harsh water. You set your stuff down and sit on your chair for a few minutes.

You take off your sunglasses and grab your board out of the sand and head towards the ocean.

Stepping into the ocean, its cold but not terrible. You continue walking into the water until you're hips deep and start to swim out more

The waves were HUGE. you jump to avoid them until you find the one you want.

That one. That's the one you tell yourself

You pick up a pace with moving your arms quick. You get a grip on your board and start to stand up on it and catch the wave! You couldn't believe yourself! You're doing it. You're in the air, you lean back and forth a little but catch yourself. But you suddenly fall off. even though you just fell, that was amazing. You forgot about the thrill.

You decide to start to head back to shore but you realize you're having a hard time swimming back. Fuck me. you say out loud.

Suddenly, a whistle blows.

"She's not even that far out, Toji." Gojo says rolling his eyes at the black haired man.

"The currents pulling her," he says putting his eyes back on the binoculars, "can she not hear my whistle?" he sighs, putting the whistle around his neck into his mouth, blowing it again. He points in your direction and signals to come closer to the shore. He opens his mouth for the whistle to drop down. Toji sits down on the tall and wide life guard chair. "I don't think she can get back to shore.." Gojo says, "I'll go" he says.

"No, I got it" Toji says putting his arm in front of the man.

Toji takes his whistle off and sits it next to gojo. He stands up on one of the steps, cross his arms and takes his tank top off , he jumps off of the tower and grabs a orange rescue tube.

FUCK! Is he coming over here?? You feel the current still pulling you and you keep trying to swim, hopefully making progress. You felt terrible and embarrassed. He even warned you!

You watched as he runs quickly into the water and dives right in, he swims faster than you ever could.

"You alright?" he worries. "Yeah, I just can't swim back. Im so so so sorry!! I thought I could swim back." you say with a pout.

"Don't worry about it, doll. Its my job" he responds with a chuckle

that nickname. shit. he's even hotter up close.

He throws a orange thingy towards you and you grab on

"You got it?"

"Yes!" you reply while using the other hand to hold your board.

He holds onto the other end and he starts to swim back with you, and he's just as fast as he looked. Soon enough you were back on shore and you pause right before you give him back the orange thing.

His wet hair, his v line, his abs. he was so fit.

you realized the longer than it should've been pause and give it to him. he notices your eyes analyzing his body, he does the same too you. He thought you were the prettiest surfer he's ever seen, maybe surfer isn't the best word.

"Thank you so much again..I'm really sorry." you repeat.

His expression softens and he gives you a reassuring look, "Look, its really okay. That was probably the easiest thing Ive ever done anyways. Im glad I saw you when I did." He says again with a small smile.

"That makes me feel better haha,"

that laugh, your voice. he didn't wanna stop talking to you.

"I was so embarrassed. I haven't even- FUCK OW!" You scream out. Tojis head whips back towards you rushing to your side. something pierced your foot, the pain makes you whimper.

He says you hop up onto one foot, "Here let me see." he says. He places one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your foot. "Oooh shit. that's a seashell. Its pretty deep too, but don't panic. I'll bring you over to where the first aid kit is ok?"

You nod your head and whimper when he touches close to the cut. "Im sorry honey."

You might be in pain but that nickname makes your face heat up.

"I can't walk over there, though." you say with tears in your eyes from the pain you got when you tried relaxing your foot.

"I'll carry you, no big deal."

before you have time to speak, he lifts you up and carries you bridal style towards where he sat before.

"Yo, Gojo! Get the first aid ready!!" he shouts out

You arrive and he sits you next to his friend, who you assumed was named Gojo.

"Okay Gojo, grab her stuff and I'll clean up her cut."

"Ight" Gojo says, he couldn't have been that much older than you, he was wearing a tropical button up that was open so you saw under, and red trunks. You point towards where your stuff is.

"Okay doll, I'm just going pull it out with tweezers and clean it ok? While I take it out I want you to squeeze my hand if it hurts. The cleaning won't be any better 'cause I really think its infected."

You nod and grab his hand. He takes the tweezers and gets a good grip. "Okay, 1, 2,3.." he pulls and you squeeze while your eyes water and you start shedding tears, once again whimpering at the pain. he hears you choke up on your tears and quickly looks up and back, "its ok baby I got you, its almost out. You're ok."

You breathe in and out calming yourself, being embarrassed of the big baby you're being right now. But it hurt so bad.

You feel relief but still pain when you realize its out

"Got it!" He smiles at you while grabbing stuff to clean it with.

"Hey, lets not focus on your foot, aye? What's your name and you live around here?"

you cringe at the coldness from the cleaning product he's using, "Uhh, I'm y/n, I don't live around here, but I came here cause its been a good few months since I graduated college. I really needed to surf again cause I was so good, clearly, I'm rusty" you give a breathless laugh and sigh at yourself. "Haha, well I'm Toji. By the way, I could tell you didn't live around here already, I would've noticed a gorgeous girl like you a while ago." he smirks. Your cheeks heat up again and you don't even feel the pain anymore. you realize you should flirt back. You sigh and say "I'm glad I had such a hot lifeguard save me" smiling at him

toji swears all blood rushes to his dick as he gets a boner from what you say.

You guys talk more and you realize the man is 30, but it doesn't bother you that you guys flirted. He flirted way more in the conversation you had though. Talking about your bathing suit, the way you smiled, how your eyes were shining in the sun. He was such a sly man.

At the point, Gojo had brought your stuff back and went into the lifeguard tower.

Toji wraps up your foot. He holds your hand as you walk down the 3 large steps. "Thank you so much, how can I repay you?" you wonder and stare at him, "no need doll, let me walk you back. You said you were here for vacation right? I'm assuming its one of these hotels?" he questions you, you point to the one you were staying at.

He grabs your things and wraps an arm around you, queuing you to wrap your arm around him for support.

You arrive and you guys take the elevator. The elevator shakes a little causing you to fall towards toji. He stares at you and kisses you. you close your eyes. he kisses you so good. his mouth kisses you down towards your neck and he sucks on it, making you moan. the elevator dings once it arrives at your floor. He tries not to hurt your foot but he can't wait to fuck you, so he picks you up. You put your keycard against the lock and it flashes green. He opens the door and slams it shut. dropping you onto the bed.

He starts kissing you hard while his dick grinds against you. with your bathing suit not being heavy the feeling causes you to moan. Like he did in the elevator he moves his way down sucking hard in different parts of your neck. leaving marks everywhere he went. As he is sucking down on your neck his hand finds its way to the bottom of your bikini. he puts his hand under it and rubs your clit. you moan. he kisses his way down to your boobs and takes of ur top with one hand. you were so wet from everything he was doing. the way he touched your clit so well. the way he was rubbing circles and your nipples and sucking on your tits. the way he kissed you. you have never felt better.

"Toji- fuck!" he moves down pulling his fingers out of your bottoms so he can take them off. he spreads your legs far apart. and starts eating you out. his tongue licks your clit so well. he sticks his fingers in you, starting with 2. he thrusts in and out and finds your g spot cause of how you moaned when he touched it.

his fingers curl against it multiple times. you squeeze around them. he thrusts them in so fast. "oh my fuck! don't stop toji please aw!" you whine out.

he curls against it again and you cum.

you pant out catching your breathe

"holy fuck oh my god."

hes not done with you. not even close to being done.

he sticks his tongue inside of you while rubbing your clit with his hand.

"fuck toji! please just fuck me already!"

he takes his tongue out and stands up from being bent down.

"You gotta beg for what you want baby." he says with a smirk, his dick so visibly hard.

"Please toji. please fuck me." you beg with a whimper.

"Good girl."

He takes his trunks off and he dick leaks with precum it was so hard. it was so big. your eyes widened. "holy fuck" you whisper. toji chuckles at your reaction, "you got a condom?" you shake your head in response "im on birth control"

after you said that, he wastes no time.

he takes your legs and drags you closer to the end of the bed and pushes your legs to your chest.

he strokes his dick and moves it up and down to get some of your slick on it. he purposely moves more on your clit making you whine out.

he starts to push his tip in. you've never taken a dick this big. he keeps going until his tip kisses your cervix. you moan when it hits places your fingers could never. '"god you're so tight." he groans. "so full, toji mmmm" you slurr out.

he pulls all the way out and quickly thrusts back in "fuck oh fuck!" you cry out "feels so good"

his thrusts are a little slow, but it isn't long until he goes fast.

the speed he was going was insane. you couldn't take it. it was unreal. you squeezed around him. "your pussy is taking my dick so good." the sounds of your body connecting was so loud. the sound of your wet cunt was just as loud. you moans sync with every time he touches your g spot. "ohh..myy..fuckk" your words coming out every time he thrust back in. you couldn't even speak. he was fucking you brainless. you were seeing stars "does my baby feel good?" he says with a groan after.

you open your mouth to speak but all that came out was a moan "Can't even fucking talk, babys fucked dumb huh?" he laughs you squeezed against his dick making him groan. he slows down, teasing you. "fuck toji-im gonna- cum im fucking- summing!!!" you cry out moaning you spasm against him but he doesn't stop. he's fucking you through your orgasm. "fuckkk how are you still going oh my god!" you are drooling so much. you can't take it.

after your, you can't even remember how many times you came. he still hasn't even shown any signs of cumming.

he goes slow and pulls all the way out and pushes back in again. you couldn't take it. he goes fast, but his thrust start getting sloppier. "gonna cum. gonna fill you up." he says catching his breath. he goes really fast again with a few more thrusts. slowing down again. then he comes. it felt so good. you were on cloud 9. you couldn't even speak.

he pulls out and moves you against the beds pillows, laying next to you.

"visit here again, okay?" he says still catching his breath.

NOTES: im sorry if my grammars bad or some seems rushed!! I thought of this after I went to the beach yesterday and the Current was SOOO strong!! these girls needed help and this hot lifeguard did exactly what I wrote that toji did. also I have no experience at all has a swimmer, surfer, or lifeguard... so please don't mind anything that's strange!! again my MacBooks autocorrect keeps changing toji to tori!! pls let me know abt anything else, criticism is helpful!

[emilystheories]

Aelin, Nesta, Bryce: the secret of the eight-pointed star.

My all time favourite SJM universe theory.

[Spoilers for ACOTAR, Throne of Glass, and Crescent City!]

In Empire of Storms, Aelin is seen wearing a Wyrdkey around her neck. Because of this, a temporary gate is opened inside of her, allowing Deanna to possess her body.

Within the Throne of Glass world, Deanna is a god.

When Aelin attends a religious service to honour Deanna and the other gods, it is noted that the High Priestess bears the marking of an eight-pointed star above her brow.

In the ACOTAR world, it has been widely speculated that the Cauldron - with its three magical legs - is also made from Wyrdkeys (thus creating a Wyrdgate). Items dipped into the Cauldron, such as the Dread Trove, also appear to take on similar properties to the Wyrdkeys.

When Nesta uses the Dread Trove items - just like Aelin and the Wyrdkey - a god-like being appears to possess Nesta.

Nesta also bore a tattoo of the eight-pointed star. The symbol of the gods.

Many believe that the fourth Dread Trove item is the Horn in the Crescent City world.

The Horn is embedded into Bryce's back. Just like the Wyrdkeys, it allows Bryce to open up doors to other worlds.

When the Horn was repaired... Bryce also gained the same marking of the eight-pointed star.

Thus, it appears that Wyrdkeys and the Dread Trove (including the Horn) allow gods, or higher beings, to possess the bodies of those wielding them.

However, unlike Aelin or Nesta, who can remove their access to these items, Bryce is stuck with the Horn permanently inked into her back.

In the final chapters of CC2, when Bryce reaches the Asteri palace, it is said that an eye opens within her soul, and "snarls."

This begs the question; is there someone inside Bryce as well...?

Interestingly, after the Horn was healed and Bryce is racing to save the humans, the Prime of the Wolves looks at Bryce and refers to her as a "wolf." As he says this, he points to his heart.

Similarly, when Bryce meets the Prime again in CC2, he once again refers to her as a "wolf" and taps his chest - his heart.

But, the Prime isn't referring to Bryce. He's referring to Danika.

Bryce's best friend, the wolf-shifter... the one who is always inside of Bryce's heart... literally.

Danika told Baxian that she was trying to find a way into a new world. But, she also knew that she was going to die before this could happen.

Perhaps it's then no coincidence that Danika inked the Horn on Bryce's back; creating a gate inside of Bryce - one that she could enter, even after death, should she need it.

Danika inked the Horn in the "language of universes" - Wyrdmarks.

In doing this, she spelt out the phrase "through love, all is possible." When Hypaxia asks Bryce about this very phrase on her back, Bryce explains the meaning: that she and Danika will never be parted.

Danika says the same thing herself; that even if Bryce cannot see her... she will always be there.

And, I don't think these are just pretty words. Because, through the Horn - a gate into Bryce's soul - Danika's own soul resides.

This explains how, after the Horn was healed, Bryce was able to the Drop.

The Drop is a descent into one's soul. When Bryce does the Drop, when she descends into her own soul... she found Danika there.

But, this raises an interesting question; can any deceased or otherworldly being enter Bryce through the Horn?

Or... is Danika someone important?

Given the theme of reincarnation within the SJM universe... it is possible that Danika was once a god, or a higher being, herself?

Well, the name Danika means "morning star." Or, otherwise known as Sirius.

In the Crescent City world, Sirius was the seventh (and long deceased) Asteri.

Sirius was known as the WOLF STAR.

Further, within various strains of mythology, Danika is known as the Goddess of Dusk.

...Danika's search for Dusk's Truth.

...The Horn, given to Bryce by Danika, is a beacon to Prythian. To the Dusk Court.

The Dusk Court (most likely situated on the Prison Island), with the same marking of the eight-pointed star.

The symbol of the Starborn fae.

The symbol of the Gods.

With SJM's next (multiverse?) series speculated to be called Twilight of the Gods...

Twilight being another word for dusk...

It's all coming together.

(And, as an additional headcanon - if this theory is true - I wonder if this is all leading up to Starfall - the migration of souls. That we will see Danika's soul leave her place inside of Bryce, and join the other souls in the sky - destined to be reborn once more).

[venusmorning]

Sincerely yours, Prince Rhaegar. Chapter 2

Male!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Alicent Hightower AU (Both Show Version)

Disclaimer: This is not me erasing lesbian representation if anything I prefer the original ship but this is my personal take on what would happen if Rhaenyra had been born a boy and befriended Alicent still. Also: I'm not claiming any works as mine, I don't own any of the characters or anything house of the dragon related, everything belongs to the rightful owners at HBO and George RR Martin. I have used the original script and I don't claim the script as my own, plagiarism is wrong.

Notes: Rhaenyra's name has been changed to Rhaegar. I recently watched Bridgerton and how Lady Featherington (sorry if I spelt it wrong) set up Prudence and Jack and I took inspiration from that to help write Otto in this, none of that was my idea and I don’t claim that writing as my own.

Words: 1,871

Trope: Friends To Lovers

Warnings: Talk of arranged marriage, Otto being a sneaky, talk of manipulation (though nobody does it besides Otto really)

It hadn’t been long since Rhaegar’s 15th name day, those in attendance were: The King and Queen, Rhaegar’s parents, Otto Hightower and his daughter Alicent, as well as the Velaryons and many other noble houses. Though what struck King Viserys was Lord Corlys Velaryon, Corlys had spoke to him for the first time since the greeting; at first discussing Queen Aemma and her health, although strangely enough the conversation had shifted to Prince Rhaegar.

—————————————

“So what of Rhaegar’s..marriage prospects?” Corlys spoke softly. Viserys looked over at Rhaegar (who was no less slicing a cake for Alicent) and then back at Corlys. “There is no need dwelling on such now,” Viserys relented with his usual smile. “After all I’d rather he focus on..his education, he is the future King after all,” an awkward smile had emerged on Corlys’s face, “he must know how to govern a kingdom.” despite clearly shutting down any marriage requests, Corlys continued. “I believe it has been a while since our families have been explicitly intertwined,” he exclaimed. “It is of course a priority that Rhaegar marry a woman who knows how to govern a household as well, is it not?” He said tilting his head slightly, “of course.” Viserys spoke.

———————————————

“Will you hunt the stag later?” Alicent asked softly, Rhaegar and Alicent were taking a quick walk around the grounds, hoping to get some quiet. “I am not so sure,” Rhaegar spoke plainly; “It would be my first hunt, however I’m not so sure hunting interests me.” The worried look on Alicent’s face slowly faded upon hearing no plain cruelty coming from Rhaegar’s mouth. “Are you worried?” He says, a concerned look on his face. “It seems quite cruel, does no one else think so?” She uttered, Rhaegar takes a look on her mellow face before taking her hand in his; a small blush emerged on her face but not that Rhaegar noticed, he was too busy wondering if he was going to have to marry Laena. Of course he heard the conversation between Corlys and his father, it’s his name day. But he’ll give them this, he didn’t hear everything; just “marriage” and “Rhaegar” and how suspicious it is that it’s Corlys asking. Alicent must of noticed, she felt the tremble in his hands. “Rhaegar, are you worried too?” Rhaegar quickly turned his head, a dampening look adorned his face. “Is it that obvious?” He said sarcastically. Rhaegar would typically beat around the bush, trying to get the other person to drop their question; but he can’t hold it in. “Father may want me to wed Laena,” he announced, Alicent couldn’t ignore the pang in her heart when hearing of such. “You will wed Laena?” She said softly, trying to hide her sadness. “Gods, I don’t even know.” He whispered but spoke loud enough for Alicent to hear. “She will make a most excellent wife-“ “I don’t want Laena, I don’t want anyone,” He whispered the last part, “at least not right now.” He said.

————————————

“Do you enjoy riding Syrax?” Laena asked with a smile, only a week since his conversation with Alicent about not wanting to marry. “I do, although she is rather protective.” He responded. “I wish to ride one day, if only the dragon-keepers could find Vhagar.” She replied. “She is it out there somewhere I believe,” they had been walking through the palace gardens all morning, ‘The Sea Snake must of convinced father to let me speak with Laena at least’ “The Dragon Keepers see her coming and going once in a while,” Rhaegar uttered.”

As the two of them disappeared into the gardens of the Red Keep above to the balconys of the castle stood Lady Alicent Hightower; watching with dismal on her face, a figure loomed slowly behind her. “Daughter,” the figure was revealed to be Ser Otto Hightower, Alicents very own father. “The Targaryen have quite queer customs, do they not?” He whispered. Alicent looked over, the girl still in a saddened state. “Laena will be a fine queen,” she said turning away slowly, but Otto had other plans. “You should visit the Prince tonight,” Otto said sternly. “Offer him guidance, comfort.” Alicent stopped walking and turned to meet her father’s gaze, Alicent looked and slowly m grasped what he was trying to say. “Go, wear one of your mother’s dresses.” He said.

———————————————

It had been a fortnight or so since Rhaegar and Laena had been seeing each other more often than not, Viserys still wasn’t fully on board but wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Though Rhaegar couldn’t be less interested, though his uncle Prince Daemon had been causing a bit of a problem lately; complaining once more about his wife, Rhea Royce. Daemon and Rhaegar had one thing in common at least, they weren’t too keen on their intended. Although Rhaegar had showed signs in liking women, he wasn’t cruel and didn’t sleep with them, although he was mildly flirtatious at times but his mother, Queen Aemma had warned him to have more honour than that. Truth be told even as a little Prince Rhaegar never had many male companions: unless you count his father, Ser Laenor and Ser Harrold Westerling whom he squired under for a brief time. However besides from that his main companions tended to be women: His mother, his cousins, Lady Alicent.

Many accounts say that Lady Alicent had seduced the Prince, others say Prince Rhaegar willingly welcomed Lady Alicent all on his own accord. Though the truth was that whilst Prince Rhaegar had welcomed Alicent in the evening, no seduction had taken place on Lady Alicents part. Far from it, they would occasionally chat, read together or plan imaginary banquets. In that fortnight Prince Rhaegar’s feelings had grown stronger than before, he enjoyed Laena’s company but couldn’t see her past an annoying younger sister. He also knows seeing Alicent this late was scandalous, one word about this and Alicent would be ruined for life. Good thing Rhaegar had insurance put in place, Ser Otto Hightower had ordered the servants away at the command of Prince Rhaegar so nobody could hear or see of his private conversations with Alicent. Otto already saw this coming, of course he did, but that didn’t stop the determination of Lord Corlys Velaryon.

——————————————

A banquet was held in the honour of the Velaryon men and Prince Daemon for their success in the stepstones, although many knew that it was an excuse for Prince Viserys to announce his son will wed Lady Laena, Rhaegar hadn’t yet agreed to the marriage but the whole court was excepting nothing less.

Lady Alicent had never looked so sad that night, seeing Laena and Rhaegar dancing with one another had been the turning point, she couldn’t stand to look at them any longer. Ser Laenor had noticed and he felt slightly bad for Alicent, Laenor and Rhaegar had been playmates long enough for him to know of Rhaegar’s feelings for Alicent. Though when Alicent ran away in tears to the castle garden, Laenor hadn’t followed, but someone else did notice.

Frantically, Rhaegar departed from the dance floor upon hearing of Alicent’s cries from the corner, though hard to hear over the noise of the party, Rhaegar heard and tried to go after her. But another hand grabbed him swiftly, it was his mother. “Rhaegar, sit down.” She whispered. Momentarily, Rhaegar looked at her and shock before feeling the sensation of being dragged away and seated in the corner. “You know what it is to come, don’t you?” Rhaegar said in his usual scowling. Aemma nodded and briefly grabbed his hand and squeezed it before lifting it up to kiss it. “All you need do is tell your father, then you will be free to marry..whomever else.” Queen Aemma tried to stop herself before suggesting Alicent marry him, and though she hid it well; Rhaegar could tell what she was going to say. “I know how outraged Corlys will be if I don’t wed his daughter, what would you have me do?” Rhaegar remarked. The queen lifted his head up and spoke “Laena will marry one day, yes? Suggest a future prospect to keep him calm.” Rhaegar didn’t think it a bad plan, son Aemma let him go and follow Alicent into the gardens. Although he hadn’t noticed the shadow of Otto Hightower following him.

———————————————-

“Alicent!” He called out, though Alicent still stood there, back to him refusing to speak. “Alicent!” He shouted again, getting closer; he looked over and saw her bitting her own nails again. A nasty habit she has, she eventually turned. “What are you doing? This is a special evening for you, go and enjoy yourself.” She uttered, hoping it would be enough to make Rhaegar leave. “I won’t,” he said. She should have thought as much. “I can’t enjoy myself knowing you’re out here, heart in hand.” He said.

“You needn’t worry, even when you wed Laena we can still be friends.” Alicent muttered. Rhaegar looked beyond shocked, “Is that really what you’re upset about, I know everyone’s been saying this banquet is just an excuse but-“ “it is just an excuse! Your father wouldn’t host a banquet in there unless he planned a proposal between you and Laena.” They were both silent, Rhaegar was speechless. “Are you quite mad? To question my father is treason.” He said. “I know, but you don’t know what it is to feel this way.” She replied. “Hm?” He muttered and ached closer to her, half strolling; though she didn’t realise. “I can’t stand this much longer, I’m not sure when this bubbled inside me, truth is I’ve been rather occupied with thoughts of-“ suddenly they were face to face, chest onto chest and nose to nose. Rhaegar had expressed his true feelings, by kissing her.

Alicent hadn’t registered it, though a faint pink blush adorned her face. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in, knowing she is enjoying it. Many sources suggest Alicent had manipulated Rhaegar into following her, even more so suggest Rhaegar had been the one to orchestrate everything, but as said before. The truth is that while Rhaegar had instigated, Alicent followed. It had felt like an entirety as they kissed with moonlit faces, not noticing the incoming footsteps. It’s all going to plan, his plan.

Whilst the kiss had intensified, Otto approached quickly, Otto swiftly came between them and ripped them apart quicker than they could have seen. “What is the meaning of this?!” He hollered, Prince Rhaegar looked over at his father who had heard the commotion and came outside, whilst resembling a sad puppy, but got no approval, as his father had looked cross at his indignity. Both of them still in shock, Daemon only laughed, he knew Otto set this all up but he couldn’t help but snicker on the contrary to his brother. The lords all gasped and whispered amongst themselves before one of the hyenas finally spoke up. “You know what this means, don’t you Rhaegar?” It was his very own father who said it. Whilst still looking purely petrified he finally spoke up.

“Yes.” He said proudly. “Father, announce my engagement to the Lady Alicent please.”

[origamimissingno]

Its crazy that someone in real life asked me why I'd side with Lily on anything and why I don't think mikaila isn't being manipulated bc, and this coworker was at my school when my crazy ex told people about my abuse as if it was some gotcha, I "was traumatized by a man like him"

First, that's fucking transphobic and saying that when you have multiple trans coworkers, two of which are trans women like wtf mate

Second, I wanna know how the fuck this coworker found out I watch Lily's stuff, I've been watching almost exclusively nuzlocke content on my lunch break at work

And third, my brothers abuse if compared to anything with Lily would be what Courtney did to Lily if she had gotten much more physical and was four years older

I don't see some abuser when I see Lily, I see someone who's been through shit and just wants to push that shit away and work on it in therapy but dumbasses can't leave her alone either about her abuser. I've literally watched this shit go down for years, I started watching early in her MLP years, all I've ever seen her as in regards to that shit is "someone else like me", if 15 yrs old me who hated the world could understand that, you'd think grown ass adults could too.

But no

You guys can't imagine someone having a differing opinion about stupid shit and like vultures flock to find any reason to hate her even if it's blatantly lies.

God damnit I can't even escape it in my shitty Walmart job would you ghouls shut the fuck up already

Edit: sorry Mikaila, used the tagging feature to make sure I spelt your name right didn't mean to actually tag you

[ryusuisloveinterest]

henloo ‼️ how has everything been lately? i hope you're alright and having a nice day/night <3

can i make a request for Ryusui, Sai, Ukyo and Tsukasa with a dyslexic s/o reader? nothing too fancy, just them being comforting because it is actually a very frustrating condition most of the time, haha

that would be it, tysm 🫶

hi anon (you’re now 🐳 anon)! I tried my best because I’m not that familiar with what people with dyslexia go through so if anything so insensitive or offensive I’m sorry and please let me know🙏 I hope you like it💗

Ryusui, Sai, Ukyo, & Tsukasa with a dyslexic s/o🫶

Ryusui:

I don’t see Ryusui really noticing at first lol. If anyone were to ask him if you have dyslexia he’d probably just shrug and be all like “idk but who cares?”

When he sees the red on your face when he points out you’re sentence is missing some words he feels so bad

“Love I didn’t mean to offend you! I’m so sorry I just want you to make a good grade that’s all!”

“I know Ryusui… it’s just so hard dealing with this…”

“With what?”

“Ryusui you know I’m dyslexic right? Ryusui?”

Immediately goes to Senku💀

He wants to know how he can help you

If you want a professional to help with your words and/or writing than bet Ryusui will have like 10 of the best at your doorstep in 10 minutes 

If you just wanted some encouragement than Ryusui’s got plenty of it!

“Hey love it’s alright. Take your time I’ll be here to listen.”

He’s always here for you to vent and to listen no matter what

Sai:

Sai is more likely to catch on, but doesn’t want to say anything because he’s worried he’ll offend you if he’s wrong

He does bring it up though when he sees you having a hard time reading a menu at a restaurant 

“Darling do you want me to read it for you?”

With a blush you nod, that’s all he needs to know

He has no problem helping you 

He makes sure that if you spelt something wrong or need help reading something to whisper it so you’re not embarrassed 

If you ever get frustrated he’s definitely someone to go to. He’s not good with words but while hold you and let you vent

Ukyo: 

He heard you mumbling to yourself when he found out 

“Damn this stupid dyslexia…”

He never brought it up to you but definitely helped a lot

When he talks to you he always waits with a smile for your response 

“Sorry Ukyo, it just takes some time for me to find my words…”

“Hey don’t ever be sorry! Take all the time you need.”

If you ever misspell something he’ll either whisper it to tell you and give you a small sign like gently tapping your shoulder or motioning his head towards the word

He wants to help you in anyway you can, so if you wanna read to him to help yourself then he’s gonna listen

If you wanna write him little notes he’ll read them and identify any changes if needed

“Take deep breaths baby, we’ll get through this together!”

Tsukasa:

He found out when you went to one of his matches

You help a sign that read I love you Tuskasa!! 

He didn’t say anything to you after the match, but Mirai did 😀 kids are so bold I swear

“Big sis that’s not how you spell Tsukasa’s name!”

Your face immediately reddens as you look at the sign again. You didn’t recognize it at first but after slowly reading it you found the issue

“O-oh…my bad. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright princess. No harm done, in fact I love the sign.”

After that Tsukasa asked you about it and told you Mirai didn’t mean any harm in what she said 

“It’s alright my prince, I’m just embarrassed. The whole arena saw that stupid sign.”

“Hey I told you I love it so don’t talk bad about it!”

His next match it was hanging on his side of the ring❤️

He’ll help you in anyway he can 

He also talks to Mirai so she understands of course she gives you a big hug and apologizes

God forbid someone else gives you crap for it cause he’ll knock them straight out without hesitation 

Random dude: “you spelt this wrong. What’re you a kindergartn-“

Tsukasa smacks the shit outta him know he’s knocked out

“Come on y/n let’s go.”

No one messes with his girl

[mygnolia]

[TEASER! ] it's cupid, stupid! | lhs

synopsis -› To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?

pair -› golden boy!heeseung x fem-pres!reader

release date -› IT'S HERE!!!

genre -› fluff, mutual pining, hurt/angst, slow burn i fear, bakery au, summer au, post highschool au

trope -› (slightly one sided) enemies to lovers

wc -› currently 6.7k! probably will be 10-15k

cw -› food mentions, a self indulgent characterization of my grandmother but she’s also everyone else’s in this fic, cursing, oh the miscommunication trope...sorry not sorry.  

a/n -› even though i tried keeping food descriptions vague, i used the experience i had with my own grandma and her cooking to influence the way y/n grandmother cooks and the way it’s described so it might not be accurate for everyone! i understand not all cultures include baked goods with starches (since I mention a lot of flouring surfaces) so pls be kind to me :( ALSO!! i haven't written in MONTHS don't hate the writing pls we are all just in this fanfic hell tgt

© all rights are reserved to mygnolia 2024. republished, translated, and/or heavily referenced work will be reported and removed immediately.

Lee Heeseung might only have eleven characters to his name, but they spelt trouble in forty different ways. 

It starts with the same old Lee Heeseung spilling his applesauce on you in the first grade, with his cup of mushy lukewarm grossness splattered across your new pants with glittery stars on them. You shriek when it happens, frantically wiping off the mess and yelling at his Lightning McQueen lunchbox with all of the bottled up rage a seven year old can have. His eyes are wide, but all his friends laugh and say girls are so angry all the time, so he stops himself from apologizing. Which, you think his friends were being a little rude to all girls alike, but what mattered was that Lee Heeseung never ended up saying sorry. 

But that’s just one way of saying it. He hit you in the face with a ball, ran into you when your knee was scraped and you almost were bursting into tears, and tripped you in the lunch line. 

Did the universe hate you, or did he? 

You figured it was the latter.

Heeseung’s been stuck to you your entire life with some extra strong adhesive that you can’t seem to get off. You wish you could get some of the same glue that stuck you two to the hip and attach his tongue to the nearest streetlight, but things almost never worked in your favor. If you could catch him, just once, like one of the dumb boys who lick frozen poles in winter, you’d be satisfied. 

The blackmail would trump any sort of Heeseung related adversity your elementary grade self had to deal with. 

Unfortunately, the years have rendered you no protection against him, and in the small victories you find yourself in, you also see Heeseung right next to you. The exam you aced was topped by Heeseung with a 98%, just a bit higher than your 96%, and it couldn’t even feel good to talk about it because you knew all your friends talked about was how he did better. 

There was no accomplishment anymore when Heeseung was around. 

Heeseung was perfect in everyone’s eyes, a golden boy in their praises and a role model for their parents. If people didn’t want to be with Lee Heeseung, people wanted to be Lee Heeseung. That? That was something you hated. How could people want to be someone who you couldn’t stand?

“Have you seen the scissors?” Heeseung asks out of nowhere, startling you from the doorway.

Reaching for the ones you used to cut the parchment paper with, you hand the pair to him and with a mumbled ‘thank you’ he leaves.

In an odd way, you’re stunned by the silence that follows. A “you suck, _____!” would be more in character for villainous Lee Heeseung than whatever just happened. But you’re way too occupied with the bakery, and go back to cutting squares in the matcha cake.

It’s the same for the next hour until the rush ends and you get a bit more time to yourselves between orders. Heeseung agrees to wash the dishes and you clean the tables to the sound of your playlist from the speakers.

“You have good music taste.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he emerges. He wipes his hand on a white towel and you stare at him, utterly puzzled. Where’s the malice? Where’s his snarky comments?

“I’m waiting for you to tell me it’s not as good as yours, or something along those lines.” You deadpan.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “I’m not that mean, I can give a compliment or two when I feel like it.”

“Oh, poor Lee Heeseung only has so much room in his heart to compliment people. How thankful should I be that you spend your daily supply of niceness on me?” You quip, cleaning off the tables. Your chest feels light and you don’t feel as angry as you did this morning.

Blame it on the lack of sleep.

“I think you should be bowing down to me and only talking when I tell you to.” He jokes, and when you glance up, there’s a semblance of a smile on his face. “Anyways, when are you leaving?”

“Whenever you leave.” You tell him, shrugging.

“Well, I stopped my your grandma’s house earlier.” Ah, so that’s where he went. “She said she didn’t want you to stay too late but she also wanted me to take you home, and I think she’d throw a fit if you didn’t.”

“I’d die before getting into a car with you, Lee Heeseung.”

“If I had to get into a car with you, that’s how I’d personally die.” He responds lightly. You furrow your eyebrows and rack your brain for some sort of retort that hurts Heeseung’s pride, but nothing comes up.

“My driving skills are very good, I’ll have you know.”

He jabs, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

—

there is no taglist i'm lazy and i might not write for a while if u likey pls reblog or save into ur mental archive hehe ty- ren

[wisedelusionalmarshmallow]

@jegulus-microfic, June 28th - Lawyer, G, Word Count - 740

To the surprise of everyone they knew, James and Lily got divorced three years into their marriage. It was a shared decision and they both ended on amicable terms but everyone kept asking them how it ended? The reason was quite simple, and a little silly honestly. They were better friends. James thought that what he felt was romantic, but it really was just platonic.

Of course, this discovery came after the birth of their son, Harry. So now the both of them had to meet at the courthouse to file for shared custody. It wasn't going to be hard to do, they were both going to co-parent, they just needed the paperwork to show it.

The three of them were currently in their lawyer's office. Harry sat on Lily's lap while her and James keep civil conversation, waiting on Mr Black to show up.

When he does, mere moments later. James is glad he is a newly single man.

Mr Black has short, neatly styled black hair and a properly tailored suit on. James doesn't think he's ever found anyone as attractive before.

"Sorry for my tardiness. I assume I'm speaking with James and Lily Potter, correct?" Mr Black starts, placing a bag behind his desk and taking a seat.

Lily takes charge of the conversation, like she does the majority of the time. James doesn't mind though, it gives him more time to gawk at their lawyer. "That is us, although I've recently changed back to my maiden name, Evans."

James notices the slight crease in the lawyer's brow as he files through a bit of paperwork left on his desk. Clearly confused about the name change. He pulls out a document to examine closer. "I see, that was only finalized this morning, my apologies Ms Evans."

"Don't even worry about it." Lily has one of her signature warm smiles on her face.

Mr Black clears his throat before continuing to file through a little paperwork. "You two are here to file for custody over your son, correct?" Said son is still sleeping against Lily's chest.

She nods. James mainly tunes out the rest of the conversation. Lily's more knowledgeable about these things. Plus, the mother's opinion is always favoured over the father's.

With his silence, James is given an opportunity to continue studying the man in front of him. He's got a few freckles on the sides of his face, and grey eyes that James wants to get lost in. He's leaning on his elbows listening to Lily speak, looking at her like she's the most important person in the world. James wants to be looked at like that, wants all of Mr Black's attention on him and him only.

Lily clears her throat from across the room and gives James a pointed look. Did he miss something?

"Excuse me?" he asks.

"Are you available to come in tomorrow Mr Potter?" Mr Black asks. If he's annoyed he clearly doesn't show it.

James looks up to answer and is hit with the same look Mr Black was giving Lily only moments prior. James swears his heart stopped for that split second. "Uh, um. Well, yes. No plans." Good god kill him now.

Mr Black shoots him a small smile James is sure is out of pity before looking back over to Lily. The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur, James had tuned out again. Not even sure if he spelt his name right on the paperwork.

When the four of them all leave the office. Harry has woken up and Lily's holding his hand to prevent him from running off.

"You're all set, just come back in any time tomorrow to pick up the paperwork." Lily thanks him and starts to walk off, making sure Harry is following her.

James looks back up to Mr Black and is about to say his thanks when the lawyer stretches out his hand, holding something out for James. When he grabs it, he realizes it's a business card, Regulus Black. He looks back up, confused.

"My personal number. You have a bit of a staring problem, did you know that?" Regulus raises an eyebrow in an almost teasing way.

In an instant, James can feel his entire face heat up. "Yes, thanks."

He nearly runs to where Lily and Harry are with the biggest smile on his face. She is one of his best friends after all.

[justanothersquidblog]

2 7 and 9 for Hannha! (I think that's how their name's spelt?)

it- IT IS OH MY GOD THATS THE FIRST ASK ABOTU HER LETS GO

2. what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

I think she actually prefers chill music! Like, like think beach music. Steel drums. Relaaaxaaaaation. She likes the lobby music yknow! I think she also enjoys jazz.

2. favorite animal? why?

Cuckoo birds! She thinks they look funny.

9. favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Her least favorite foods are mostly vegetables, she's almost childish like that, but she'll comply eventually, it's just hell to pick it out of her teeth due to the cage around her mouth.

The cage is due to her favorite food.

She will say it's fruit, but her palate's been ruined due to one, single, request;

"Bite my face off."

..

..

I mean it didn't work! They both got caught. And thats why Racha looks like that. Queue the Beastars Music-

[sereneres]

dollz™ ³

newjeans x 6th member!reader / 0.8k

summary. — in which danielle has too much time on her hands. she also isn’t really there but we’re going to ignore that

warnings. — danielle is here yet isn’t at the same time

“this name thing is lowkey kinda hard.”

hyein huffs, rolling onto her side and raising an eyebrow at the older girl. “don’t you already have all of yours, unnie?”

“well, no, i still have to come up with with mine and ynnie’s.” hanni sighs, dropping her chin into her palm. “the others were easier. bbangsaz, kittyz, twotolz, niniz–”

“why are you and dani-unnie ‘niniz’?” haerin tilted her head. “couldn’t you just be ‘aussiez’? because you both came from australia?”

minji, sighing, patted the girl on the soldier with a look of faux sympathy. “don’t question it too much, haerin, you’ll just get lost in the complicatedness that is hanni’s mind.”

“hey, just so you know, danielle was the one who wanted niniz, not me!”

“oh.” minji blinked, then turned back to haerin to once again pat her on the shoulder. “nevermind haerin.”

“hey–”

hyein groans, turning to you as the two girls continued bickering. haerin, having already settled down on minji’s lap, starts to doze off.

“yn-unnie~” she whines, shuffling closer to you and placing her hands on your knees. “can you help me, please?”

her words are almost robotic, seeing as she had said them in english, and that, paired with the pouty look on her face, was enough to make you coo at the younger girl.

“don’t worry about it too much, hyein.” you murmured, placing a hand on her head and petting her. “it’ll come to us… hopefully.”

minji, being unable to move with a sleeping haerin in her lap, turns her head nearly one-hundred and eighty degrees to look at you. “maybe you should ask danielle for help. she’s pretty good at coming up with names.”

“sh– mph,” haerin yawned. “she made a list of ship names for us already. didn’t you guys get her message?”

“she did?” hanni frowned, picking up your phone. “when’d she send it?”

“hanni-unnie, that’s my phone–”

the older girl pressed a finger to your lips, her eyes fixed on the screen of your phone. “shush, yn, you weren’t using it anyway.” she paused. “uh, what’s your password again?”

“just use your own phone, unnie.” hyein sighed, plopping her head onto your lap. “it would be faster if you did.”

you too sigh, albeit more out of exasperation than tiredness. “debut date, hanni-unnie.” you reminded her for the nth time that month. “it’s our debut date.”

“right… did you use month day year, day month year, year month day, or year day month?”

“hanni-unnie.”

“okay, okay, i got it, no need to whine… oh wow this list is long–”

“what about barbiez?” hyein cut in, having pulled up the list on her own phone. “that’s pretty cute, right, yn-unnie?”

you hum. “it is, but i don’t think we can just use barbiez. for one thing, it would look weird being spelt with a z when everyone spells it with an s–”

“all of our shipnames look weird with a z though.” haerin muttered. “dani-unnie and i use ‘candyz’ and not ‘candies’…”

“and, most importantly, we could get into some issues using the name barbie despite not being affiliated to the brand.” you smile apologetically at the girl in your lap, the beginnings of a pout on her face. “sorry, hyein-ah, but we can’t use it.”

“what about bratz?” hanni suggested, having not paid attention to anything you had said. “you and hyein look like bratz, right, minji?”

minji blinks. “erm…” she glances at you, her silent plea for help plastering an amused yet small smile on your lips.

“we can’t use that one because, as i said earlier, copyright and or trademark issues, hyein.” you said. “also, i don’t think it would be a good look if we were called bratz. it’s too much like the word brats, and who knows how many people already think of us like that…”

“those pe’ple are jus’ haters, unnie.” haerin murmured sleepily. “ignore ‘em.”

hanni huffed and nodded her head in agreement with the younger’s words. “well said, haerin, well said.”

“okay, what about dollz?” minji asked, looking at hyein. she had, at somepoint, taken your phone from hanni and was going through the list danielle had created. “since you can’t use barbiez or bratz, why not just use dollz?”

“dollz.” hyein repeated thoughtfully, seemingly testing how the word sounded. “that’s…”

“it’s perfect.” you leaned forward, trying and failing to peek at the screen—it was a privacy screen, hence your failure—of your phone. “was it on dani-unnie’s list?”

the older girl nodded. “it was.” she gives you your phone before pointing at the name on the screen. “see, it’s like, ten or so names down from the first one in the third row.”

“oh… just how many names did dani-unnie come up with?”

“she came up with around twenty–”

“oh, that’s not that bad.”

“–for each pairing, excluding the ones we already made names for, so, around a hundred?”

“a hundred?!”

previous. / pairz. / next.

[genoskissors]

Guide to Understanding Genocider’s Many Names

Genocide Jack has many names and it can be hard to understand why so many people use different ones or spell them differently, so I attempted to make a guide that is as comprehensible as possible.

Something to know before hand

Kanji: More complicated, such as 翔

Hiragana: Simple and smooth, such as しょう

Katakana: Simple and sharp, such as ショウ

Let’s get the “Genocide” part out of the way

This part of her name is written in katakana, (ジェノサイダー) and you’ll notice the line at the end. This means the sound is extended, so instead of “da” it’s “dā”. Japanese doesn’t have an “er” so this is used instead, since they sound similar. Her official title is Genocider. The localization simply switched this is be Genocide. I’m not sure why, maybe since Genocider isn’t actually a word, but that’s just my best guess.

Syo VS Sho

Here’s where it get complicated.

In order to make sounds like “kyo”, “bya”, or “ju”, two hiragana are need. First, a character ending in i, such as ki, bi, or ji, characters pronounced like ka or bu cannot be used. Second, one of the three y’s (ya, yo, or yu) in a smaller form.

The character “ki” (き), combined with “yo” (よ), would make “kiyo”. But if the “yo” is written smaller (よ→ょ) then the “i” from the first hiragana is replaced by it. So since きよ is Kiyo, きょ is Kyo. Same for “bya”. びや is Biya, so びゃ is Bya.

Now, we have our “exceptions”, shi (し) and ji (じ). You’ll notice they look very similar, which is why they are both “exceptions”. For “ji” (じ) and “yu”, (ゆ) rather than jyu it’s just ju (じゅ). It’s different since in the case of kyo and ko, it’s a whole other sound, but jyu and ju are pronounced the same, so the y isn’t needed.

But in all my examples, you’ll notice the first hiragana is two letters, which is why it gets tricky for “shi”. Like jyu, shyo is unnecessary, however, h and y are pronounced the same here, so you can remove either one and get the same sound.

Quick Note: I used “kyo”, “bya”, and “ju” as examples since there are Danganronpa characters with those in their names, but, just to clarify, they aren’t the only combinations possible.

The reason I put exceptions in quotes is because this is romanization, there is no rule book saying you must write it this way. While Sho is the most common way to write this, it doesn’t mean Syo is wrong. In fact, the games themselves use this.

However, they also use Sho.

So, really, both are correct.

Syou VS Syo / Shou Vs Sho

> I’ll be calling her Sho/Shou here for convenience.

翔 should be spelt with a “u”, since it’s しょ“sho” then う “u”, so “shou”. Still, a lot of times the u is excluded because it doesn’t sound too different in English. English speakers pronounce “Shuuichi” and “Shuichi” the same, so I suppose the u is unnecessary. You’ll find this is common in a lot of different translations. Even Japanese media that use the alphabet, like the pictures above, will sometimes leave out the u, if following an o or another u.

Jack & Jill

These are just the titles that are strictly English. Since the whole thing about Syo in the beginning was that she’s a serial killer, society will assume it’s a man, so the public will give her a masculine name. In English, people will hear Sho and see it’s foreign, so there’s no gender association. I think it was changed that way so we’d see it as masculine. While I think they should’ve kept her Japanese name like everyone else in the game, I cannot deny how easily Genocide Jack rolls off the tongue.

Overall

All the names work, use whatever you want.

I hope this made sense to at least one person. If it doesn’t, feel free to ask for further clarification!