#anyways heres what half of you are here for

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[strawberrykidneystone]

tonight

summary: after a long day, there is nothing like plopping down on the lap of your scary girlfriend

a/n: save me sevika…. SEASON 2 IS SO CLOSE AHHHH

tags: 2nd person, fluff, alcohol, smoking, gambling, poker

ao3 version

after a long day of haggling with customers and delivering orders from your mechanic shop, The Rusty Nail, you needed a break. thankfully, one of Sevika's goons scurried in during the day to drop off a handwritten note from her:

The Last Drop tonight. Stop trying to pay for your own drinks.

-Sev

the note was written on a rough piece of scrap paper and it looked like there was a small heart that was drawn next to her name that had been haphazardly erased, which made you giggle. gently putting the note in a shoe box behind the counter that you kept all of her previous notes in as well, suddenly the day went by much faster with something to look forward to.

trudging into the tavern, you quickly walked over to the wooden bar and leaned your forearms onto the counter. you held up a hand to the bartender and they nodded, knowing your usual without you having to say it. while you didn’t frequent The Last Drop very often, they definitely saw your girlfriend often enough to make note of your order.

and of course, your drinks always went onto sevika’s tab no matter your pushback. oh well, the cost of your drink was quickly stuffed into the tip jar as appreciation.

your drink was set in front of you onto a napkin with a straw stabbed into the ice with a gruffness that was familiar in the undercity. you felt a pair of eyes searing into your back, feeling your girlfriend’s impatience from a mile away.

grabbing the drink and taking a quick sip, you strode over to the dark corner of the bar. like a beacon calling to you, there sat sevika slouched back in her usual creaky chair with a half-way burnt down cigar hanging out of her mouth, telling you how long she’d already been here. she was manspreading and glanced at her cards every so often, an unbothered aura surrounding her even though you knew that she clocked you the moment you stepped inside of the bar.

she had a tell playing cards that you’re pretty sure that only you had noticed. her right eyebrow quirked ever so slightly when she glanced at her cards, you would miss it if you blinked or didn’t know exactly what you were looking for.

that’s why you usually win at cards with sevika.

that and sevika liked letting you win.

the only person that she would let win against her.

you slipped your way through the crowd, keeping a tight hand over the top of your drink as you pushed through the maze of people. sneaking your way over in a very cat-like fluid motion, you stood in between sevika’s legs before perching on her left inner thigh.

sevika’s mechanical arm automatically wrapped around your waist and pulled you further up her thigh, close enough that the side of your torso was touching her chest. you wiggled your hips to adjust properly onto her leg, receiving a warning side-eye from your lover to behave. you leaned forward and checked the cards in her right hand, a perfect royal flush. she squared up her cards and stuck them down the front of your shirt, earning an annoyed look from you. she had a habit of sticking her cards somewhere inside of your clothing, insisting on having her hands free when you came over. it was a pretty full table, so it would be a while until her call anyway.

you set your drink on the floor slightly underneath her chair and leaned into her, resting your head on her metal shoulder. the cool bronze was a welcomed relief from the general body heat that was slightly stuffing up the bar. she ran her hand down your waist and squeezed the squishy flesh of your hip, the pointed tips of her fingers tickling your side.

you ran your hand over her mechanical arm, feeling the tactile textures for any imperfections or places that needed some TLC. finding none, you raked your eyes over her body to look for any new injuries from her own day of work. satisfied that she was completely fine, you pecked her cheek before settling back into her. she hummed in appreciation and reached her mechanical arm down, bringing up her cloak from freely hanging down from her shoulder to resting around your shoulders.

plucking the cigar out of the corner of her mouth, she stubbed out the lit end. you told her that you didn't mind her smoking even when you first met her, yet she still insisted on not smoking around you even as other patrons in the bar created a haze with their own smoking. the scent of nicotine reminded you of her and god she looked hot when she smoked. the two exceptions she made to this "rule" were when you begged her enough to shotgun into your mouth or after a particularly long love-making session, she would lean back against the headboard with one hand resting behind her head, a cigarette in her free hand and you tucked into her side.

one of the new faces at the table laid all of his cards on the table with a grin. the whole table leaned forward to see his hand, it was a perfect flush. sevika smirked and nodded to you, giving a playful tap to your hip. you dug her cards out of your shirt, flourishly sliding the cards on the table one on one. a collective groan came from the table as sevika barked out in laughter, the winning pot of coins being pushed towards her. she cupped your face with one hand and squeezed to make you pucker your lips and roughly pressed her lips to yours in a searing kiss. wrapping your arms around her neck and pushing yourself completely flush against her, chest to chest as you got lost in the kiss, your lips dancing in perfect rhythm.

parting from the kiss, she pressed the tip of her curved nose against yours and made deep eye contact with you, savoring the moment of winning with her favorite girl at her side, her gaze giving you butterflies in your stomach.

"c'mon baby, let's go home," she murmured and landed a playful smack on your ass, earning a squeak of shock from you. she held out her flesh hand to help you up, which you happily took and stood with her clock still hugging your shoulders. she stood up with a grunt and grabbed the bag of coins off of the table, tucking it into her side. she curled her around your waist and walked with you out of the bar and into the cool night with her winnings and the love of her life.

a/n: uppercase letters??? in my fanfic??? who am i

[crimsoncandy04]

hii omg out of curiosity... could u do a scara with a bratty virgin reader who teases him too much thinking she can get away with it. if that suits ur tastes that is 😊😊

Of course! I may not fit the entire idea of a brat myself, but I've been told I can act a little cunty now and then so I think I can do this one fairly well.

Scaramouche was just another annoying superior you had to obey. All the harbingers were pretty much the same in the aspect that they viewed YOU as lesser than. Which technically you were by law of Snezhnaya but that wasn't YOUR fault. You were only stuck working as a subordinate for the height deficient harbinger called The Balladeer because your stupid slut mother had gambled away a HUGE loan while she was pregnant with you and instead of taking responsibility, she fled the country and hadn't been seen since you were like 6.

But the fatui weren't just going to forgive a debt that large simply because of a disappearance. No.

A group of fatuus soldiers had knocked on your grandparents door one day, led by Scaramouche. They were given three options.

1: Pay off their daughter's debts.

2: Die.

Or three...

"Give the oldest girl over and have her work it off in her mother's name." Was what the pretty faced yet slick tongued bastard had said.

Your grandparents had recently been put in charge of your half brother too as authorities had taken him from your mother's home due to excessive drug use on her part. He was just a little kid, barely 4. YOU on the other hand were now a young lady. A young adult.

He needed your grandparents.

You had had a wonderful childhood already.

And so you bowed your head and agreed to go back with The Balladeer and his cronies to the fatui headquarters and officially join the ranks.

It wasn't that bad actually. Scaramouche didn't actually seem to care or not if you didn't do your job. But you were clearly the only exception as you often watched him treat others with a cruelty that bordered on ruthlessness.

Not that it was your problem.

You often sauntered into his office late at night to chat with him. Not that he ever stopped you.

"Hey Scara what's up? Ugh you really should get better lighting here. It looks so ominous!" You bitched as you hopped up onto the edge of his rather grand looking desk and looked down at him while he worked.

"Hey let's hang out for a bit! That stuff is just boring work things anyway! I never do mine!"

He grunts.

"I know."

You pouted as you tried to scoot a little closer to him.

"ugh you're so lame today! And here I thought a harbinger as mighty as yourself could multi-task easily! It appears I was mistaken!"

Scaramouche rolled his eyes at your behavior.

"leave. I'm busy right now."

You were feeling agitated now.

"no! I've been waiting all day to hang out and now you're ignoring me!?" You turn completely around so your legs fell over on his side of the desk now. Crossing my arms as I stubbornly stand my ground.

"I'm not moving until you at least look at me you stupid meanie!" You whined.

The pen in Scaramouche's hands suddenly snapped in half. Ink splashing across the tabletop caught your attention.

"I said leave."

"make me!* You stick out your tongue and pout even more at his tone.

"it's not like you're actually gonna punish me for being here like anyone else! Stop being such a big meanie!"

Suddenly his hand was around your throat.

"Is that what you tell yourself bitch? How amusing." He squeezed your neck. Just enough to make you dizzy as you felt Scaramouche rip open the front of your buttoned white blouse.

His eyes quickly looked you over with a predatory hunger.

"you're alright I guess. For a human anyway. You'll do."

You squeak in terror as he tears off your bra next. Gently running his fingertips across your nipples and causing them to harden. as your breath hitches in your throat, you feel an unfamiliar warmth in your panties at the sensation.

He then shoved you back onto the table top.

"h-hey what are you doing? Stop this at once!" You squeak anxiously. Being almost frozen in fear as you feel Scaramouche roughly lift up your shirt and expose your panties to his smug looking gaze.

"what? Not so tough now that you finally realize how insignificant you are?"

He traces the outline of your wet slit through the dampened fabric.

"how pathetic. Acting all bold and yet you're already shaking and getting excited before I've even touched you."

Scaramouche easily tears away the delicate fabric as he spreads your knees wide for him. He kneels down and closely takes in the sight of your exposed sex. Gently pulling your folds open to give him a better look at you.

You feel his cool breath against your inner labia as you begin to tremble.

Finally something clicks for him.

"oh? I see you've never been had yet. It's almost funny Y/N, at your age? Seriously? What?"

He pinched your clit softly

"too shy?" His raspy tone bordered on a seductive growl as you feel him rub little circles on your pleasure nub.

"ugh it's not like I haven't had chances before! I just didn't care for anyone enough to want to do that stuff!"

Your words were met with a jeering cackle as Scaramouche simply sighed and slowly began to ease two fingers into your unbroken entrance.

A strong ache filled your body as you moaned softly and saw blood drip onto his palm as you struggled to raise your head and see what he was doing at first.

Immediately he shoved your head back down and kept a firm grasp on your throat.

"stay still sweetheart. If you don't relax, it's going to be excruciating."

You felt him begin to slowly start thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight pussy. Successfully popping your cherry as you blushed deeply and tried to muffle your cries using your hands.

He leans down and gives your clit a gentle lick next. Teasing you now as you whimper at the new feeling. More warmth filling your lower abdomen as you feel your legs tremble while Scaramouche continued to lap at your untouched bud. Deliberately trying to draw out the strange rising feeling in your tummy. You cry a little as you finally dare speak.

"Please... stop this... I'll pee!" You wail pitifully as his eyes took on a seductive look.

"That's not what's about to happen sweetie ~ don't worry, you're about to feel really good, I promise ~"

He released your upper body and began to focus more on stimulating your tight cunt as he fingered your sensitive walls and continued to gently suck on your clit. Giving it a little bite now and then that made your legs tremble.

Finally you feel your lower abdomen tighten. Your insides pulse as you feel yourself squirt. Scaramouche swallows every drop almost eagerly as he continues to tongue fuck you through your orgasm.

Only when you lay breathless and exhausted upon the table before him, does he finally free his rather large cock from the confines of his shorts, pressing the tip teasingly at your entrance.

"You were all bark just an hour ago bitch. Now you're just a whimpering mess. What happened?"

You felt Scaramouche slide his dick into your pussy then. The thickness stretching you beyond capacity as you wince and feel yourself whine a little.

"Do you realize your place now cunt? Maybe this will teach you to talk with a little more respect towards your superiors."

He began to slowly thrust into you then. Your oversensitive cunt spasming with every thrust as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

Scaramouche leaned down to steal a kiss too. Shoving his tongue into your mouth as you held onto him. Swallowing up your cute and girlish moans of pleasure and pain as you dug your nails into his back and felt him quicken his pace.

He fucked against your cervix as he continued to press your knees upwards more as he got closer to finishing. Bringing your knees practically beside your head as he got a little rougher then. Forcing you into a sick mating press position as he claimed your virgin womb for himself.

Scaramouche groaned and bit your bottom lip a little as you felt him pour his hot seed into you after what felt like the longest hour of your life. His sadistic smirk widened as he pulled out of your bloody cum filled cunt.

"This will be your new job from now on. Don't bother refusing. You still owe me a debt. " He stuck his fingers in your dripping depths again.

"however, keep being as obedient as you were tonight and this sweet cunt might just pay it off sooner than you think."

[biologistofthedepths]

tags from @quaranmine:

#UGH NOT ANOTHER RECALL FOR ME TO LOOK AT #also if you ever want me to rant about budgets. i am here #i literally think like half of our government's dysfunction can be traced back to the fiscal year #like guys. guys. the last time congress passed an on-time budget was 1996. 1996!!! #every year since 1996 there has either been a stopgap funding bill (continuing resolution) or a government shutdown #let me tell you something: govt agencies do NOT like to do things on an uncertain budget #the FY24 budget wasnt passed until like 6 months late. #many govt offices didnt receive funding until like...may of 2024. for a fiscal year that started oct 2023. #do you know how much that messes up projects? #there is operational funding during the stop gap time ofc but management dislikes green-lighting things without a final budget #so yeah you've got operational money during the continuing resolution. everybody's being paid. #but if you don't know how much money total you have it's a little hard to confidently fund projects or travel or whatever #because what if you spent too much and the budget is short? #(note: the forest service recently cut all seasonal non-fire positions for 2025 due to anticipated funding shortfalls) #also a ton of govt agencies failures are just like. because congress didnt fund a program enough or defunded it completey #or the majority conservative supreme court took away powers..... #anyway. obviously this is not the ONLY problem with the govt lmao there are so many #but i do think that the general public REALLY doesnt understand enough about how much the congressional budgets screw things up #like that's just one of many things. but it's something i rarely see brought up in discussion like it was on this post

[heechwe]

the start of time | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park (jay) jongseong x reader ୨୧ word count: 8.6k ୨୧ genre: angst, semi-fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: friends to strangers to lovers, childhood friends, miscommunication, pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex, TRIGGERS FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND PARENTAL ABUSE IN THE LATTER HALF OF FIC. ୨୧ synopsis: You've lost your creative spark for the first time since moving away from Jeju Island, leaving behind your best friend in the process without an explanation. But when a work assignment sends you back to your hometown, truths come to light and perhaps lost love can come back with a little time and effort. ➸ bless @pars-ley for following this fic to the very beginning and being one of the best betas ever! this story is for you, ley, and thank you ♡ 💿Listen to the story's playlist here!

Over the thin railing that separates Jay from the cliffs below, the waves crash violently together. The weather mirrors the feelings circulating through his veins. The ripples of the seabed meeting the sand make him long for what his life could be instead of its current state. The wind whips his trenchcoat in angry thrashes against his back. His hands grip the lighthouse’s iron bars to keep his body steady. The upcoming storm was forecast last night to be one of the biggest downpours of the summer.

As the second in command of the lighthouse keeper, his father, it’s standard practice to be prepared for what’s to come. As the sea continues its visceral reaction to the weather, Jay thinks about her and what her life has become since she’s left. Is she happy? Is Seoul everything she dreamed of? Was running from Jeju without saying goodbye worth it? Or is she closer than he believes, her heart’s desire turning out to be not far from the fishing town they grew up in?

His father calls for him inside, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. Probably for the better, anyway. Thinking about those chapters of his life, the book separated cleanly and harshly with a before and after, does him no good. So, like he should, he runs inside to do the next task that keeps one of the last lighthouses in Jeju working properly. Even if his heart has to be sacrificed in the process.

The subject of your next photograph takes no interest in the lens standing three feet away. Her tail wiggles rapidly as she inspects the bush in front of her with her perky, wet nose. You giggle quietly behind your camera, trying not to disturb her inspection of the roses.

Rule #1 of photography, according to your department head Sunghoon, is to make yourself nonexistent. To get the perfect shot, conceal yourself as much as possible. It’s taken many practice sessions since your first magazine catalog, the original photos coming out less than perfect. Thankfully, you’re now lead photographer thanks to Sunghoon’s tutelage and tips. After five years, you feel like you’re on stable ground.

It reminds you of Jay, the sudden memory of him being the focus of your lens many times before a punch to the gut. Your oldest friend in the world probably wonders what the reason was for your sudden departure. You couldn’t even leave him a letter to provide some semblance of an explanation, one that he definitely deserved more than anyone else.

If only you had a reason that made sense or could salvage the bond you once shared. You know now it’s been eaten away by silence, so what could be said anyhow to repair it? 

Your guilt gnaws at your empty stomach the entire way back to the headquarters of Otherworldly, the magazine you interned at and subsequently were hired to take pictures for. You greet the rest of your team when you make your way upstairs.

”Finally found some inspiration?” Sunwoo asks. Your friend tries to balance a pencil on the top of his nose.

”I’m working on it. In the meantime, I got the copies you wanted.” You give him the folder that holds your pictures for the month’s spread.

”Barely made the deadline this time, kid.” Sunghoon tuts his head at you.

“Leave her be,” Chaewon chides him, thwacking her notebook on the back of his head. It’s nice to know the writer’s room has your back when the boys decide to tease, especially in the form of Chaewon. She may be a stern leader, but she also happens to have a soft spot for you, the only female photographer.

You hear your boss, Kim Taehyung, call your name and ask you to come to his office. Your body bristles at the command, but Chaewon pats you on the shoulder. “Probably just a timesheet thing.”

Tip-toeing into Taehyung’s office, you smile at his back. Your boss is focused on a box of files on the windowsill, the outline of his button up shirt highlighted by the sun. “Please sit,” he says.

You do as he asks, putting your hands on your knees to pinch the skin, an old habit you couldn't kick. You tuck your hands under your legs to stop when Taehyung turns to you. He presses his glasses higher to the bridge of his nose, a soft smile emerging on his lips. “I wanted to say your photos from the last column were very impressive.”

”Oh!” You respond instinctively. Expecting reprimands that turned out to be compliments, you mentally take a deep breath of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

"Also," he says, "I was wondering how you’d feel being sent out on an assignment. Well, you and Sunwoo, actually. Sunghoon was discussing a location-focused piece, and he recommended you for it since you may need a change of scenery for some fresh inspiration.”

You nod your head immediately. “Of course!”

Taehyung claps his hands together, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ve already booked you two for the next flight to Aewol in two days. It’ll probably be easy to find a place to stay, right?”

The pit in your stomach that faded immediately widens into a chasm. The sound of your hometown’s name on Taehyung’s lips could have been a figment of your imagination. A sick joke your guilt materialized to punish you further. But as you look longer at your boss, his glee transforming into hesitant confusion, you know the reality is far worse.

”The location piece is for Jeju,” you say, the realization on your lips hitting your ears like a cannon.

”Is that an issue? I can always send Jungwon with Sunwoo instead."

”No sir! Not a problem at all.” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Jungwon, the little prick, wouldn’t get in the way of your success if you could help it. It’s bad enough that he reminds you of your creative block whenever he gets the chance. No way would he steal a cover piece from you. Particularly the one Sunghoon recommended you for and your boss expected you to complete without problems.

Despite the implications creating intense dread in every fiber of your being.

”Perfect. Get some sleep for the flight! I’ll send the piece details in an email first thing tomorrow morning.”

You walk back to your desk in a daze, unsure what to say when Sunghoon, Sunwoo, and Chaewon ask about the meeting. All your thoughts can center on is Jay, his smiling face continuously playing in your mind’s eye.

“This town is cute! A bit barren, but cute,” Sunwoo says as he exits the car parked in front of your childhood home. Your mother’s rose bushes stand tall near the mailbox, the only color in the dry grasslands surrounding your house. Aewol pales in comparison to the colors of Seoul, the city’s vibrant hues suddenly replaced with sepia tones. The only color that seems to shine through the landscape is the sea a five-minute walk away.

”Say that again, Woo, and your face won’t look so cute.” You roll your eyes and grab your luggage from the trunk.

Two weeks, only two weeks, you can survive two weeks. Your mantra on the flight to Jeju Island has been giving you some relief at the thought of going back home in half a decade. Standing in front of the brick and mortar that encapsulates your old house, you find the words to be extremely hollow.

With her uncanny senses, your mother is already out the door and greeting you and Sunwoo with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. How she could tell the two of you were barely out of the car without spying out the window, you’re unsure.

Sunwoo melts under your mother’s attention, his gummy smile and polite aura on full display. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

”Ah, my prayers were answered. Glad to see my daughter returned with a boyfriend!”

Yours and Sunwoo’s eyes grow to saucers. Your tongues are erupting with explanations at an absurdly fast speed. “No, Mom,” you shush her as Sunwoo’s blush creeps across his neck. “Woo’s my coworker. He’s here with me on an assignment.”

”Oh! Apologies.” She laughs behind one hand and pats Sunwoo on the back with the other. “Doesn’t mean one day you can’t be more than coworkers! That’s how your father and I met, remember?”

You give her a close-lipped smile and nod, the muscles in your jaw tightening.

You hadn’t thought about your father or your parents’ relationship once since you had flown out to the mainland. Admittedly, your life was all the better for it.

Feeling the air of his presence surrounding yours again twists the veins in your neck to tense knots. The ends of your hair prickle in anticipation. You make it to the front of your doorstep, wondering where he is and why he didn’t barge outside to greet you.

Like she can read your mind, your mother says, “I forgot to call and tell you, honey. Your father had an accident at the factory a month ago.” You see a tear in the corner of her eye, but you don’t address it. “So…he’s been bedridden for the past few months now.”

Sunwoo expresses his deepest sympathies. Unbeknownst to him, they deserve to go to the next beggar before him.

Like any other child, you should worry about your father’s sudden health change with a heavy heart and a frazzled mind. You should feel guilty for being away for so long, wondering how to make up for the lost time.

But you feel nothing. Not an ounce of what you should feel.

Even when you sit by your parents’ bed, his eyes lazily gazing out the window while your mother tells him in a loving voice that you’re home, your emotions are devoid of anything negative or positive. Sunwoo smiles and greets him politely. Your father says nothing. The seizure that overtook him stole his ability to enunciate coherent words.

Some moments later, when it’s just the two of you in the room together, you itch to leave. It should be a pleasure to see him. But you’re unsure to see it any other way but objectively: he’s just a body in a bed, doing nothing every day.

You hear your mother shouting in the living room. Her voice is at an abnormally high pitch to exemplify her happiness. You forgot she could achieve such a decibel when she wanted to.

”You won’t believe who’s here, Seongie!”

Seongie.

The childhood nickname Jay was blessed with by his parents, and the name stuck like a second skin. Now, it bounces off your ears and exacerbates your already conflicting emotions. Your body goes into overdrive from the sudden overstimulation, at ease from knowing Jay is close by but petrified you're seeing him after so long.

You fix your hair and take tentative steps out of your parents' room and into the hallway, hearing your mother call your name to beckon you to welcome your old friend.

When you see him, his frame filling the doorway of your childhood house, you’re transported back in time. You see yourself and Jay on a day when he could barely stand at half the wall height. You were etching pencil markings into the doorframe, the wood concealing the handwriting perfectly when the door was fully closed. A time when there were no worries or anxieties placed on you, the two of you against the world.

Looking over his face now, you realize the years have not shown physically. He still has the same angled jaw and smooth cheeks. His bottom lip remains puffy, especially when he pouts. The only thing that has changed with time is his eyes, most likely from the image before him, one he hasn’t seen in so long.

He has every right to be confused. One second, you stopped being a staple in his life. Now, you’re back in it without a warning.

You can’t deny your heart clenching. The muscle seizes when he looks over your figure, his jaw ticking when he finally meets your eyes with his own.

”You’re back,” he says finally. His first words to you in five years hold an air of uncertainty, laced with unspoken pain. He’s unsure what to do with his body, his arms pressed to his sides and his hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

Knowing you’re the cause of it makes you want to run to Seoul all over again with your tail between your legs, hoping you can forget the misery you’ve caused. How can one apology hold enough weight to make up for what you did to one of the only people you’ve ever loved?

Sunwoo, aware of the sudden tension flooding the room, holds out a hand to your best friend. “Hi, I’m Sunwoo.”

Jay breaks eye contact with you to take Sunwoo’s palm, shaking it with a gentle but present grip. Jay gestures to your mom when he discusses yours and Sunwoo’s job at the magazine. “She’s very proud of her daughter, you know."

”Of course!” Your mother exclaims. “‘S not everyday that your child becomes some hip photographer.”

Jay inhales a heavy breath and looks down at his watch. “I have to go back to the lighthouse, but—“

”I thought your dad still ran that thing,” you cut Jay off. Aewol’s lighthouse was one of the last on the island, and the last love Jay’s father had left after his wife passed away twelve years ago. You expected it to stay in the family, but not in this way. Not when Jay has so many dreams to fulfill. Or, at least, you hope so.

Jay releases a humorless laugh, eyes falling at the corners. “Pop’s getting old. Can’t do it forever.”

He hugs your mother and gives a soft wave to Sunwoo. You feel the pit in your chest from a few days ago re-erupt when Jay looks in your direction before he departs. All you’re left with is the grim line of his mouth to haunt you for the rest of your afternoon.

The shutter of your camera makes Jay turn his head to you with a shy grin, his hair blowing in all directions from the wind. Your spot on the cliffside overlooking the sea is close enough to the lighthouse for you to see Jay’s father going in and out of the structure with supplies shipped from the mainland. Jay only runs over when his father calls for him to help, but his father hasn’t bothered to in the last hour or so.

In the downtime, the two of you have been alternating between science homework and enjoying the cool, cloudy weather. You’ve taken a number of shots of the water’s current and weeds surrounding your picnic blanket, but the majority of them were of your best friend. He pretends he’s going to smack your lens away, but he never does.

“Are you done taking candid shots of me?” Jay asks, his pencil scratching against his notebook.

“Depends. Maybe once you tell me what you’re writing,” you tease. “Because it’s definitely not a chemical equation.”

Jay chuckles and puts his notebook between the two of you. The words are jumbled in front of you until you recognize them as a recipe. “I was testing out this version of hoedeopbap last night, but I used white fish instead of salmon. It turned out really good, even Jaeyun liked it.”

You rest your head on your hand, sprawling out on the blanket to look at Jay. He always appears so animated when discussing food. You wonder when he’ll take the initiative and do something with his passion.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring.

You grin and turn your eyes away. “You’re just a dork for food, is all.”

“Says the nerd with her camera always around her neck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I consider myself an opportunist. How else will I get good shots if I don’t have my baby with me?” You rub your camera’s body lovingly, and Jay releases a hearty laugh.

The booming sound of your father’s voice calling your name makes your entire body flinch. You swear his figure is as tall as the lighthouse as he comes towards your picnic blanket, stopping short when he sees Jay next to you.

“It’s almost dinner time. Let’s go home.” Your father says the words with a false ease; they hide his warning to follow him back to your house. Your anxiety rumbles low in your stomach, but you play it off like it’s nothing as you pack up your stuff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, his eyes hopeful for the next morning. As it is your routine for him to bike with you to school, you’re also counting the minutes until you see him again.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, your eyes soft but your stomach wrapped in knots. When you’re out of sight, and your father wraps his hand around your upper arm on your way to the car, you calculate the next seconds until you’re away from him and back in the safety of your best friend’s presence.

You and Sunwoo have been around the town square of Aewol all morning and afternoon. The crisp hour of 4 PM hits you sharply with the sound of cows and other livestock sounding off somewhere nearby. The pictures you’ve both taken of the local townspeople, random animals passing through the pale greenery, and subtle landscape have been average at best. They don’t hit you with awe or fuel any further inspiration. It’s the same cycle you’ve repeated for the past three months, trying to strike some sort of match of creativity only to come up empty.

“Let’s be honest,” Sunwoo says, looking over his own camera’s reel. “These kinda blow.”

“You don’t say?” You kick a free cobblestone off the road in front of you, lips downturned.

“The assignment is ‘Hidden Treasures’ right? Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“Where do you think we’ll find something like that here?”

“You’re a local,” Sunwoo says in his defense. “Where did you go all the time in this backwater town?”

The beginning of your sarcastic remark dies on your lips the second you see Jay walking out of the laundromat with Heeseung, one of your old high school friends. He looks the same as Jay, still youthful but showing maturity around the edges.

Jay catches your eyes as they continue walking, his face contorting in surprise but unsure how to address it. Heeseung is the one to run towards you and pick you up in a tight hug, practically squeezing the remaining energy out of you.

“Holy shit, Jong wasn’t lying! You’re really back!” Heeseung laughs, his eyes becoming crescent moons from his happiness. You match his reaction, genuinely glad to see another familiar face.

You introduce Sunwoo to Heeseung, and Sunwoo exchanges pleasantries with Jay. Jay remains tense, the two of you conflicted about how to bridge the awkwardness that lingers.

Heeseung, like Sunwoo, is a great detective, sniffing out tension and immediately directing the conversation to your cameras. “So, Jong was saying you’re here for an assignment?”

“Yes!” Sunwoo says before you can. “We’re trying to find hidden treasures, actually. Our boss’s words, not mine.” Heeseung laughs at Sunwoo and then flicks his fingers.

“Jong could show you guys the inside of the lighthouse! Or even the view from that damn balcony would be a treasure in its own right. You can practically see the whole town from up there. Right, Jong?”

Jay rolls his eyes and rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Perfect! We were dying here without any good material. No offense to you small town folk,” Sunwoo apologizes, but neither of your old friends mind. They welcome Sunwoo’s city perspective with laughter and an open hand, just like they always have with newcomers.

On your walk to the lighthouse, Heeseung and Sunwoo taking the lead, you’re left to walk alongside Jay. The tension is a tad looser than it was before, but it still pervades the space between you both.

Finally, Jay says, “I can’t believe you’re actually home, y’know.” He says the sentence more like a question, his voice unable to mask the traces of hurt that linger.

It makes your heart rip, but you avoid the workings inside your chest to keep the conversation light. "It took a long time, didn't it?”

”Yeah. It’s like you dropped off the planet.” Jay’s voice turns a degree lighter. He smiles, the crack in his solid facade giving you a way back in.

“I basically did. All I had was my camera and some clothes in my bag.”

Jay's eyes widen, startled by the thought. “You’ve never traveled light once in your entire life.”

”I know! I barely had time to grab the necessities.”

His eyes are filled with humor. “And by that, you mean…”

“Obviously my Pokémon collection, for starters. I had to start from scratch,” you joke. “Good thing I saved all of the old cards under my bed.”

”Even the one of Charmander that I dropped in Jaeyun’s homemade soju?”

You nod, laughing. “It still smells like watermelon.”

”Bullshit!”

You both fall into an easy rhythm of witty banter and taunting, recalling old memories and brushing shoulders in a mocking fashion.

By the time you’re taking photographs on the highest floor of the lighthouse, the tension has dissipated by a large portion. Your relationship with Jay may not be completely back to where it was before, but the first lighthearted smile he throws in your direction proves it’s a start.

And a start is just enough to make your heart feel a million pounds lighter.

“So Jongseong is flailing this card around, not realizing that the bowl of my signature soju punch is right there behind him…” Jake tells the story of the Charmander card with animated expressions. Heeseung and Jay roll their eyes, but Sunwoo laughs the entire time, his buzz bumping his energy to a level you had never seen before.

The bonfire Jake and Heeseung set up a walk away from the lighthouse is big enough for all five of you to sit comfortably around it. It seemed to be the only way your old friends could hang out together at this point in their adult lives. The bar that still stood in town filled with too many old people to feel like an acceptable hangout location.

“And he completely dropped not only her precious Pokémon card, but his whole fist into the punch bowl! I had to make a whole new batch without my parents knowing about it!” Jake laughs incredulously.

The memory still holds a level of insanity for him, clearly—not just at the situation but the level of teasing that you and Jay would devolve to when you were in your own little world together. You couldn’t help that you wanted to take your card from Jay’s hands, even if that meant soaking him in alcohol to get him to give it up.

You lift your beer to your lips, blushing. Jay sits beside you and notices the humor in your expression, smiling to himself too. You didn’t expect to reach this level of closeness again so soon. Who knew it would take a work project to find your way back to each other? With the week coming to a close and a good catalog of photos under your belt thanks to him, you could say the glass was looking half full.

“You guys got any more stories? This shit’s hilarious!” Sunwoo says, still laughing.

“Loads, man,” Jake responds.

“He’s got the best memory of all of us. Probably remembers all of our first naps in elementary,” Heeseung adds.

“How about we focus on the present, please? Otherwise we’ll be here until the sun comes up, Dee and Dum,” Jay says, pointing to the prime suspects with their all-knowing smirks.

“What else is there to say, Jay? Jake and I have been toiling on the dredging boats. You keep guarding that white tower and saying no to your uncle every time he asks you to work at his restaurant. Same old, same old.”

You turn your head to stare at Jay, perplexed. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

It’s always been Jay’s dream to make something of himself with his recipes. Bookmarks, sticky notes, anything with free space held an ingredient here or a step for a recipe there. It was like it was second nature, as were photographs for you.

How could he deny himself from what he wanted?

“I already have responsibilities here. I can’t drive up and down the highway to Park & Co. every day.”

“Start small, idiot.” You chide him, half-serious in your pestering. “Who said you couldn't do both? You can be a good son and still have your own dream.”

“Careful,” Jake says to you. “He might listen to you.”

“You’re the only one who gets through that cold heart of his,” Heeseung teases.

Jay gives the older boys a stern look, and they back off immediately.

On the walk back to your house, Jay’s jacket nestled around your shoulders, you grill him further on the prospect of him cooking seriously. “You should do it.”

Jay shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “And what’ll happen to the lighthouse? My dad will go back every morning on his cane and keep it working himself? No way.”

“Come on, who says you can’t do both?” You flaunt your arms in the air, emphasizing your point. “It’s not like it rains every day here.”

He looks at you with humored eyes, their shape becoming extremely thin when he smiles. “You’re even more stubborn as an adult, you know?

You poke your tongue out at him. “I could say the same about you, Seongie.”

The rain soaks your clothes when you run through Jay’s door. You shake off the droplets in your hair, most of the strands needing to be wrung out in your fist. Jay gets you a towel to dry off with, laughing at your current state of affairs.

”Don’t make fun of me. Be glad I still came, asshole,” you warn, warming yourself with the dryness of the cotton towel.

Jay raises his hands in mercy. “I told you to come earlier! Forecasts are no joke.”

”Sometimes they’re wrong,” you say. 

”Ninety-five percent of the time, they’re not. Trust the lighthouse keeper next time, maybe? I’ve been watching those skies for three years. I know if and when the weathermen are full of shit.”

You roll your eyes and shuck your shoes off, “Whatever. Any chance you have a spare pair of warm socks for me? I may get frostbite.”

”One, that involves snow,” Jay says as he walks into his small bedroom, leaving you alone for a second before coming out with what you requested. “And two, promise to bring them back. I only have so many pairs before I have to go to the city for more.”

”Scout’s honor,” you promise. You switch out your soaked socks for Jay’s, the feeling of the fabric making you immediately warmer. It could also be the fireplace that Jay put kindling in before you got there, but it’s mostly the socks. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

“I’d offer you a set of clothes too, but I’m moving a lot of my stuff from my dad’s.”

“It’s not that far away, though. You really want to live in this tiny shack?”

Jay laughs and returns to his food on the stove. “Do you think I could bring a girl home living with him? I love him, but I’m getting too old to be his roommate.”

You smile and press your arms into the kitchen counter, but you know it’s false. The thought of Jay being with someone else sprouts a gargantuan knot of jealousy in your stomach. He’s never belonged to you, not by any means. Not only that, but your illogical departure gives you no right to claim him now. And yet…

“Hey, where’d you go?” He waves a dish towel in front of your face, a smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you play off your prying thoughts.

“Obviously.” He sticks his tongue out at you and continues to stir the concoction on the stove.

“What are you making anyway?”

“Seaweed soup. I haven’t been able to make you any since…the last birthday we spent together.”

Your body warms deep down to the soles of your feet at this surprise. “My birthday was three months ago.”

He chuckles and turns his head to you, smirking. “Consider it a belated birthday gift then.” He carries on stirring, but continues talking. “Besides, you always liked my soup compared to your mom’s. Too watery, if I remember right.”

You blush and step away from the counter. “Let’s not talk about her or her food.”

Jay’s face turns puzzled. “You’ve always been so bristly when we talk about your family. Your mom is one of the sweetest ladies in town." 

“You don’t get it. You didn’t grow up with her.”

“Hey, at least you have both parents around.”

You slam your hand down on another laminate countertop, growing more frustrated the longer the topic is broached. “Jongseong, please drop it.”

“Why are you getting so upset?” He asks, puzzled and growing alarmingly quiet at your outburst.

“Because you don’t get it! And you never will, okay? So let it go!”

The kitchen suddenly feels too suffocating, the memories of the past and your argument melding together in a way that makes any hunger that you had become a full stomach stuffed with nothing but anger and fear. You run out of the house and back into the rain, knowing if you say anything more, your secrets will fall around you like pellets soaking your skin.

The lanterns fill the sky like a thousand stars, close enough for you to touch before they’re whisked away into the dark clouds above you. Even for your small town, every adult and child knows the end of summer festival is a time to make the last set of wishes and affirmations before autumn comes. If Jay’s father yearned for an easy season, he would buy a lantern to release on a night light tonight, as would your friends’ families who hoped for good health and fortune.

You smile when you manage to catch one, holding on tight despite knowing it’s against tradition. Once one is meant to float away, it was considered rude to stop it from continuing on its path upward.

Jay chuckles and grabs it from you, matching your pout in jest. “Next year, I’ll buy you your own, alright? Don’t be greedy!”

You roll your eyes and watch the lantern rise up and away from your spot on the beach. It shimmers in an amber glow until it slips away into the black sky overhead.

You turn to him, eyes lit up not just from the lantern flames. “Did you wish for anything this year?”

Jay shrugs. “I can’t really wish for anything ‘cause I didn’t get—“

“Don’t give me that! It’s symbolic, anyway. Just tell me,” you whine.

Jay only side-eyes you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You attempt to throw a bundle of sand in his direction, but he sees your upcoming attack the second you raise your arm. He takes your wrist in his hand, the clump disintegrating between your fingers. The two of you laugh as you try to wiggle free from his grasp.

You’re both a tangle of limbs until he finally pins you down on the ground. He hovers above you, panting hard. “I win,” Jay replies, his breathing ragged but eyes still sparkling from a successful takedown.

“You wish.”

In the flicker of lantern lights and midnight stars overhead, Jay can’t help himself from leaning down closer until there’s barely a breath between your lips. He lets every doubt that has lingered over the past fourteen years dissipate and surrenders to the moment, feeling the softness of your mouth as he kisses you.

You could be glowing as bright as the lights still being sent off into the sky. You feel like you are, anyway.

He doesn’t go faster or push you further, the simplicity of the act making you sparkle from within with every ebb and flow of your conjoined lips. The crackle of a firework is what makes the two of you come up for air, unaware of how much time has passed.

 You let the moment hang between you the entire walk home. He holds your hand, squeezing it every now and then, the action more valuable than any words he could say right now. He holds himself back from giving you another kiss to say goodnight, knowing there’s always tomorrow.

Minutes after you make it inside, the scene in front of you turns whatever joy was left from Jay’s presence into acid.

“Can you not do anything right around here? I ask for the simplest things and even that’s too much.” Your father points to the food in his hands with an air of disgust directed at your mother.

He spits his vitriol in her face, the pattern commonplace. The behavior is nothing new, but his eyes show something worse than normal brewing beneath the surface.

“I can fix it,” your mother assures him, trying to take the bowl from him. “I’ll throw out the old batch and—“

“So now you think wasting food is the better choice? Are you stupid?”

The two of them are unaware of your presence, but even if they were, you doubt that would change the downward spiral they were heading towards.

She tries to walk away from him like she always has, diffusing the situation in the only way she knows how, but he drops the bowl on the counter and takes her by the arm.

“You’re not leaving,” he warns. The next moments pass in a blur, each one that plays out making you hover outside of your body, looking down in disbelief. Your mother’s temple hits the wood with a terrible thud. The next second, your body is pressed against your father’s to pull him away, begging, “Daddy, please stop!” 

His upper arm has enough force to jam into your chest and knock you onto the kitchen tile below. Pain reverberates up your tailbone from hitting the floor in a violent bang.

Your mother comes from the daze of her assault to cover your body with her own. It’s a pointless defense, your father’s feet slamming hard on the floor as he walks away and into the bedroom without looking back once.

She apologizes profusely, holding your head in her hands as tears stream down her face without an endpoint. You can barely form a tear yourself, still unsure the past ten minutes happened at all. An hour ago, you had your first kiss, and now…

“Your aunt lives on a coast off the mainland. I can’t let you stay here anymore, my love.”

That moment is when you feel the water form in your eyes. You couldn’t leave now, not with so much left uncertain.

“Promise me you’ll leave this place. Don’t think about this night again and find something better, please.”

That entire night, the waves knocking into each other with the same force as you had encountered hours ago, you feel your heart shatter into a multitude of pieces, each fragment tinier and more painful than the last. The thought of Jay waking up to see you in the morning only to find you erased from his life, robs any chance of you sleeping on the boat ride to Wando.

He’ll try to call and text, for sure. But what could be said that would explain the last twenty four hours without breaking your promise to your mother? How could you live with sharing such intimate details of your household, even with someone as sacred to you as Jay is?

How could you make him believe it wasn’t his fault that you fled without revealing your most vulnerable and harsh reality? After coming so close to the future you always dreamed of with him, what would he think? What would he do?

So, like any coward does, you let the phone ring until your battery dies, not bothering to charge it again until you make it to your aunt’s. You tell yourself he’ll move on and life will be better with you safe and out of the picture. Every beat of your breaking heart may call you a liar, but you’ll learn to twist it into the truth one day.

The next afternoon, sun slowly setting to meet the waves below, you walk towards the lighthouse with the courage your younger self didn’t have the night you ran away. Your heart tosses around in your mouth when you take the first step through the threshold, but now is the last time you fear the truth. If you couldn’t explain the circumstances back then, the least you could do was explain them now.

You take the trek up the steps to the top floor of the lighthouse, every step heavier than the last. Jay stands inside the lantern room cleaning the large bulb at the center of the space. He immediately tenses when you walk through the open door, but he says nothing. He only holds the same somber expression he had the first day you arrived back in Aewol. Only now, so much more rests behind his face that you cannot decipher.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. The words release something you believed couldn’t be separated from your being. Your guilt remains present, but the apology provides a long-held breath of fresh air.

He looks up to meet your gaze, eyebrows furrowing just a touch. The setting sun casts amber shadows across his face, making his confusion breathtaking. Clearly, he’s unsure what exactly you’re apologizing for.

The next words already taste like lead in your mouth, but you can’t hold the weight of them for another second.

Speaking them out loud is what will set you free.

“The night I left, my dad pushed my mom into a cabinet,” you confess. The eight words you just uttered create a well of tears in your eyes, but you keep your voice level and solid. “He had always been…harsh before, not just with her, but that was the first night I ever saw him hurt her with his hands instead of his words.

“I tried to stop it from getting worse, and I fell down—no,” you take a breath, “h-he threw—he threw me down on the floor.” You feel foolish for trying to minimize his actions, knowing there’s no reason to protect him anymore. You lower your head, ashamed. “That was when my mom called my aunt in Wando. She begged me not to say anything, so I kept it a secret. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about it… and about how much of an asshole my father really is.”

You can’t help the way your words crumble on your tongue or the low whimper that erupts from your lips. You had accepted in silence the harsh reality of your father being a violent and cruel human being, but speaking the words aloud is another beast entirely.

You go cold, your figure limp until you feel Jay’s gentle fingers under your chin. They pull your face up to meet his, catching his glassy and red eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

You sniffle. “What would you have done? We were seventeen—“

“Fuck that,” Jay seethes, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I would’ve killed him then, just like I want to right now.”

You laugh and take his fingers in yours. “I made a promise.” You lock onto his gaze harder, trying to convey every ounce of regret you still feel. “I thought about calling you every day. I’d pick up the phone and didn’t know how to come up with the right words, especially after…”

Jay laughs, passing over the curve of your cheek with his thumb. It’s the rhythmic pattern of his touch that makes you come down from such heightened emotions. It’s always been his superpower, grounding you like this. “If I had known I wouldn’t see you again, I would’ve kissed you until the sun came up.”

You blush, your body flushing with heat. “Nothing’s stopping you now, Jongseong. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He steps forward, the shy boy you grew to love appearing in front of you. The last time you were this close, you both were unsure about most things in life, but not about how much you meant to him, and vice versa.

Now, the feelings he had put on hold for so long take hold of him, his heart a kaleidoscope of pent-up sensations when he finally presses his lips to yours. His mouth is ravenous, his tongue finding yours as his arms clutches onto your body with fervor.

You’re encased in him, all the lost time suddenly found in the spaces of his mouth on yours, your hands on his body, and the moans that leave your mouth. He undoes the buttons of your cardigan with quick ease, taking it off of your shoulders and somewhere in the room you don’t care to remember. You help him pull the sweater over his head to kiss the column of his throat and top of his chest, making him shudder.

You both pause to hurry down to the drawing room below, not wanting to continue on the iron floor next to the bright bulb of the lighthouse. Yes, the cot off to the side of the room is not incredibly comfortable, but you care little about its lack of comfort when Jay lays you down on your back and smothers your body in kisses. He makes a map of your skin until he meets the apex of your thighs, your body highly strung by the time he kisses the center of your legs.

You clutch his hair with both hands and hold tight in the midst of his ministrations, his whispered words of affirmation and the figure-eight patterns of his tongue saying just enough to push you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

He lifts his head from your body to crawl over you, his heart in his mouth as he says the words that have always been in his mind and heart from the second he saw you. “I love you.”

You’re unsure if it’s normal to cry at such a confession or in the midst of your current situation, but regardless, there are no tears of fear or pain. They’re ones that fill the silence between you with what he already knows to be true. But you say the words he needs to hear anyway. “I love you, too, Seongie.”

This is what it feels like to be at home. His body against yours, him sliding so easily inside of you without a word needed for the immense amounts of pleasure that already exists. It could be a handful of minutes or a span of time that carries over into the next morning. All that matters is his lips on your own and his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

And in between every movement, he has to remind you how much he loves you. His words and feelings are already embossed into your heart, but it’s nice to hear the breathless cadence of his voice. “I love you so much,” he groans, his end close with the sudden stutters of his body.

You fall off the cliffside together, your bodies in sync in the best possible way as your eyes see the stars from the very first night you kissed in the back of your eyelids. And when he has his hands in your hair, his touch lulling you to sleep, you wonder why it took you this long to come back to the one person who has always been the safest space in your world.

The two of you stay nestled in the thin blanket, Jay’s body your source of warmth in the small drawing room of the lighthouse. The cot barely holds your bodies, but with you both squeezing together and not wanting to let go, you make it work.

Jay takes stray hairs from your face to tuck behind your ears. “I can’t believe you didn’t know how bad my crush was until the festival.”

You giggle into his chest. “I wasn’t paying attention to boys back then! How would I have known?” You hold his gaze, suddenly vulnerable.

He chuckles. “I think I was pretty obvious.”

“To everyone but me, I guess,” you joke. “Besides, I think I always knew I’d end up with you, strangely.”

“That’s not strange, not at all.” He kisses you tenderly, nipping your lips until you laugh into his mouth. “Perfect. At least to me.”

“Same,” you agree. “I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m with you.”

Jay responds by holding you tighter between his arms. He kisses the top of your head before whispering, “So where do we go from here?”

The answer is simple, but that doesn’t make it any easier to face.

Jay looks deeply into your eyes and senses the words you cannot say, and the strength of his stare and his arms as your protective walls from all the harm that still exists in this world gives you the power to confront what you need to.

That afternoon, leaving Jay in the lighthouse with your heart fully in his possession, you know you have to face the demons that wait for you in your childhood home. If you are to have a future together, the first thing you have to do is make peace with the past.

A handwritten note on the fridge tells you your mother went out for groceries, giving you the perfect excuse to release the words that would end your terror once and for all.

You enter your parents’ room to see your father, unmoved from the spot you saw him in on the first day you were back home. Your mother pleaded for you to check in every now and then now that you were back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not until now.

You move the chair by his bedside out to sit down. When you finally face him again, you take note of the details you were too blinded by indifference to notice before. You observe the wrinkles on his forehead, the sunken divots under his eyes, the age lines surrounding his mouth, the frailness of his body.

The weight he’s lost since his accident makes all his features stand out more. All that he’s lost, but has also always been, is on full display now: this husk of a man without the venomous words and bravado to hide behind is truly nothing to be scared of anymore.

 “You’re so much smaller than I realized.” You say it with a breath of relief, any fear or anger that was left behind for him in your soul replaced with pity. You can walk away without regrets or words you wish you could’ve said, because you know now it’s a waste of your peace. Maybe one day, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive, even. Not today, but someday.

You walk away with no grievances left, back in the direction of the lighthouse with a new purpose and ready to take the path you were always meant to. Back to the home you’ve always had resting inside of the one you love.

Jay stands with his back facing you, staring off into the expanse of sea in front of him. His shoulders ease as you step closer.

“You’re back,” he says with saccharine happiness. He takes your hand in his and presses your fingers to his lips.

“I am,” you respond. You kiss him with your whole soul, incredibly in love and unafraid of what will come next.

“Babe! The new issue is here!”

You open your eyes to the sound of Jay’s words. You could barely doze off when he was so excited to grab the mail this morning. It was only delivered a few minutes ago, but of course he has to check for the newest spread of Otherworldly in your mailbox. To his happiness and your shy pride, your name’s plastered in almost every section of the photography credits.

Convincing your boss to let you work for the magazine from your hometown turned out to be easier than expected. With his happiness from your newfound inspiration, it seemed like you could take pictures of algae for all he cared and it would be a hit in the magazine’s eyes.

You weren’t the only one who could take credit, though. Jay’s name was also included in some of the photos, his insight into Aewol’s cuisine and new sous chef position at Park & Co providing more than enough influence for your photography. The lighthouse would always be his priority (aside from you), but his second love of food could not be kept at bay any longer.

He opens the magazine to the first page that features your photos, the centerfold being of Jay’s original recipe for hoedeopbap. “It looks even better in print,” Jay says, his face three shades brighter staring at the meal.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his middle, peeking your head out from the side of his shoulder to look at the pages. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Some of the best you’ve ever done.” He turns in your hold to press your chest to his, kissing your forehead in the process. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Actually, getting lucky is how we got this.” You take his hand and rest it on the curve of your stomach, fifteen weeks peaking out from under the midriff of your tank top.

He laughs and presses his lips to your cheek. “I love you.”

To your surprise, peace was easier to find than you had expected. Confronting what you ran away from all those years ago feels like a distant memory, the pain of the past a part of another reality. There are no monsters that creep in the shadows or secrets to keep locked behind closed doors.

All that remains is the ease that comes from a life filled with nothing but love and happiness, as weightless and freeing as a lantern floating through the sky.

“I love you too, Park Jongseong.”

@junekissed (thank for beta-ing also june!! ilysm) @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[ravengards-rogue]

bright as the morning, soft as the rain

sebastian (stardew valley) x reader

✧ tags : gender neutral reader, canon divergence, a lot of author liberties, alcohol, fluffy, pre-relationship, mildly suggestive but sooo mildly lol.

✧ wc : 3.4k (this is ridiculous lol)

✧ a/n : the thing to get me out of my writing slump being sdv fanfiction is hilarious.

hi! this is the first part to a silly little alternative first kiss series i have planned for the stardew romanceable characters. i think the other ones will be shorter (hopefully but lol).

i will link the rest of them as they get posted. i hope u like. rbs appreciated. also tagging @antique-remains (hi this is fang on my side blog lol)

✧ synopsis : sebastian wants to do anything but think of you. he's failing miserably on that front. sam and abigail are not helping.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

“Earth to Sebastian,” Sam snaps his fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. Sebastian jumps in his skin. “What’s with you today? If you’re not gonna take our pool playing tradition seriously, I’m not playing.”  

He swipes a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. Half-empty Joja-Cola can sits directly besides his pool stick, the faint air of smoke and liquor in the air. Right. He’s here to play pool.  

 He pinches the bridge of his nose with exasperation, shaking off the feeling before scratching the back of his neck.  

“No, sorry. I wanna play, just…give me a sec.”  

“Got something on your mind Seb?”  Abigail prods, unfortunately intuitive. Sebastian scowls at her. She stands to her feet to get closer, sitting on the edge of the pool table with her cheek turned just enough to look at him. Her smile is coy. “A certain someone, maybe?”  

His scowl deepens, lip curled in distaste. “No. Move. You’re in my way.”  

“You’re a bad liar.” Abigail says with a resigned sigh, arms crossed. “You weren’t this spacey last time you dated someone. ”  

“Fuck off,” Sebastian sighs. “It’s not like that yet.”  

Abigail grins before Sebastian can  correct the slip up. “Yet. Yet, he says.” 

Sebastian feels himself blush. “Ugh.” 

He sighs as he stands back up, leaning against his pool stick. Sam stops whatever he was doing (messing with the pool table deliberately, Sebastian assumes), taking newfound interest in the conversation.  

“Oh, you two talking about our new neighbor?” 

“Not really new. It’s been like… what a year or two almost?” Abigail adds. Sam shrugs.  

“That’s true. But it feels new to me anyway.” Sam says. He gives up on pool it seems like, abandoning his stick on the table in favor of navigating to the box pizza balancing on another table nearby and his drink. Sebastian watches him shimmy a slice of the pie, not bothering to blow on it as he eats. “Oh is that why your heads in the clouds? Figures.”  

“I didn’t say that. Abigail said that.”  

“And you’re saying she’s wrong?”  

Sebastian huffs. “…Yes.”  

Sam laughs good-naturedly. “Pfft. Uh-huh, yeah. I super believe you.”  

“Fuck you both.” 

“Come on, Seb. It’s not like everyone in town doesn’t know.”  

Sebastian’s frown deepens. “Not everyone.”  

Sam seats himself on the couch again and Abigail joins him. It creaks under the weight of them as they get comfortable together. Sebastian stays where he is, sitting on the tables edge with a drink in his hand and an itch for a cigarette.  

Sam counts on his fingers. “Your mom knows. My mom knows. Abby’s mom knows. If they all know then our dads definitely also know. Who else does that leave? Our towns tiny dude. Like I’d say Elliot doesn’t, but he’s here on Friday’s and he catches up with gossip all the time. So basically everyone.”  

“…Shit.”  

“See? Told you.”  

Sebastian doesn’t need everyone to know what’s going on between you. He doesn’t even know what’s going on between you. It’s taken him longer than he cares to admit to even acknowledge that there was something there. And he didn’t know it was mutual until recently when Abigail came dropped by to tell him she overheard her dad explaining old Pelican Town traditions on dating and romance. 

(Abigail always describes things in excruciating detail, adding all the bells and whistles. This makes her great to play the Solarion Chronicles with.  

It also makes her  good at artfully recounting interactions. He can easily picture you the way she said she saw you, overalls  half unbuttoned, dirt covered and leaning over the counter just slightly giving Pierre your rapt attention.   

The thought of it is enough to trigger some sense of affection he’s never entirely felt before.)  

It’s not like Sebastian is against the idea of dating you, it’s just— 

“I think you should go out with them Seb. I like ‘em a lot more than your exes.”  

Sebastian sighs. “You guys know why I’m on the fence.”  

Sam shrugs. “Does they even count though? They’re not actually from here. They live here sure but they didn’t grow up here.”  

“Right? That’s what I think too. Might as well go for it.” Abigail shrugs, glancing at Sebastian. “I really don’t get why you’re hesitating. Something else has to bugging you.”  

“I thought that too.” Sam adds. 

A faint blush creeps up his neck. He loves his friends and sometimes, he appreciates how well they know him. Times like this, he thinks it wouldn’t kill them to be a little less perceptive.  

They’re not wrong. It is something of a flimsy excuse to try not to think about you. Sebastian has always had a not dating policy about people he grew up with. He nearly dated Abigail in highschool and it was a shitshow. So he’s vowed to never do it again.  

But that’s not the real reason he’s been rejecting the possibility in his head. He uses it more for himself than anyone else. It’s not like he can give them the real answer because he thinks it’s one hundred times more embarrassing.  

How the fuck is he meant to tell them the reason he keeps hesitating to define your relationship is because he feels like he likes you too much?  

That’s the real reason he’s going in circles about it. It’s so cringe it makes him want to break out in hives but well, it is true. Sebastian likes you—like really fucking likes you—and it’s freaking him out because he thinks it’s the first time he’s really liked anyone.  

Dating has never been all that fun for Sebastian. It wasn’t something that felt meaningful. He dated mostly in college and only one of those relationships lasted a significant amount of time. And even then the relationship was never all that genuine. They ultimately broke up because Sebastian realized they were fundamentally incompatible. As bad as it sounds, there wasn’t a real sense of attachment there, not once. It was just convenient for both of them. He realized at that point he should probably just focus on himself.  

That was about when he moved back home to the valley to live with his family in his post graduation.  

And he had honestly expected it to be another few mundane years, akin to his early adolescence. He was so sure that he would spend it with the same restless feeling in his stomach, the same longing to be somewhere else. If he could never feel any belonging, at least he wanted to be somewhere he could blend in. He thought for sure moving back to Pelican Town was going to be nothing but dreadful and boring and existential. That he would come back and remember why he wanted to leave in the first place.  

Until one day, someone from the city moved into the old, overgrown farm and turned the entirety of the valley upside down.  

When you met for the first time, Sebastian honestly didn’t care. Nothing goes on in Pelican Town, so he figured you’d be the main subject of gossip for a few weeks before ultimately blending into the background of his life just like everyone else. He also didn’t think you’d last long living here. You were part of the corporate rat race he so detests and you didn’t grow up in the valley. It’s a hard place to get used to after living somewhere more populated.  

Against all odds  though - you did stay. And you’ve integrated yourself so much with the people living—himself included here it kind of baffles him. He doesn’t entirely remember what it was like before you came here.   

Sebastian couldn’t have predicted in a million years that that stupid help wanted sign in front of Pierre’s store would start actually being useful. But lo and behold, at least three times a week he finds you with full pockets - jogging after whomever last posted to give them what they need. And you do that without anyone really asking you too.  

You’re just so… helpful. And social in a way he can’t describe. Everyone in town has nothing but nice things to say about you. You’ve given everyone a gift on their birthday thus far. You’re keeping the entire economy afloat with your farm right now and you regularly clear those mines out for monsters. You even paid for the bus to get repaired, too - so now it’s up and running again.  

You’re full of surprises. And easy to adore, himself included.  

What surprises him most often is how easy it is for him to be around you. He doesn’t turn you away even when you visit his room sharply at 9am and hover over him in bed. He doesn’t get even the slightest bit upset when you have a mundane and disruptive conversation hours before he usually gets up. He keeps everything you’ve ever gifted him, and he often thinks of inviting you to things he does with his friends. He smiles when he sees you running around doing some chore, frantic and covered in muck - all mess and sunlight.  

You’re… nice. Honest, hard-working, and cheerful. Kind. Sincere in wanting to know him. You should completely and utterly exhaust him given those are your main characteristics. You should be someone he’s simply fundamentally incompatible with. 

But more than anything, you’re thoughtful. And it disarms him so utterly he feels overwhelmed by the thought. From the start, you put in a lot of effort into maintaining connections and he was no different. It’s just impacted him so much more than he thought it would. If he lets himself think too far on it, he really won’t stop thinking about you.  

To the point he’s been picturing what it’s like to live on the farm.  He’s in deep. 

Despite all of your idiosyncrasies, you really seem to give a shit about things in a way that feels utterly foreign to him. This extends to anything and everything. It extends to Sebastian, and it shows in the ways you don’t undermine him. Little things. You take his work seriously and apologize for disturbing him, you don’t immediately take the side of his family when he talks about them despite being friends with them too, you don’t interrogate him about what he is or is not comfortable with. You show up and linger in his life, and then you go off to your own thing. 

More and more, he gets the urge to stop you before you go. It’s too much. It makes him act…lame and he’s not too fond of it. He’s never really felt this strongly about anyone before and he’s a little bit of a wreck about what it does to him. So it’s not that he doesn’t want to date you, but more that he does so bad he doesn’t even want to admit it.  

 But well.. He isn’t sure it’s even working. As soon as you walk into a room it’s like— 

He’s lost in his thoughts for a while, only to get pulled out of them by some big commotion happening in the main part of the saloon.  

“Ah, you’re here. What perfect timing kid,”   

Shit. Shit  

Only somewhat obscured by the distance and wall separating their space from the bar - Sebastian catches a glimpse of you and feels something uncomfortably warm in his chest. His friends both make little oooh sounds, no doubt planning to do something stupid. He should intervene but he gets too caught up in pretending he doesn’t see you. Turning away stiffly, he pretends to be looking at something else while he listens on your conversation. It’s not too hard to hear, anyway.  

“Hi, Pam.” He can practically hear the smile in your voice. “Here’s your ale. Managed to grow a hops plant indoors this season so the brew is pretty fresh. It’s strong, fair warning.”  

A beat of muffle conversations follows up with a a loud sigh. “That’s exactly what I needed. Your pretty good with your liquor and spirits, huh kid? Thanks for the drink. Here’s what I owe ya.”  

“Selling alcohol under the table at my establishment? Tsk tsk.” Gus adds.  

It’s at this point Sebastian lets himself look at you properly. You lean with your elbows against the counter. You look a mess like usual, but you’ve got on a cowboy hat today that Sebastian finds ridiculously cute. You smile at Gus sheepishly.  

“Sorry. Can I buy myself a drink to make up for it?” You offer.  

“I’ll do you one better and give it to you on the house.”  

“Aw, what? Can’t let you do that Gus.”  

“You can and you will. You’re always looking out for everyone. Here, it’s a nice imported IPA. Nice and cold. Have a drink and go relax. Some of your friends are here too tonight I think.”  

“Oh?”  

On cue, you turn your head to the group of them. When you and Sebastian meet eyes, you brighten visbly - all smiles. He’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t even catch Sam next to him until he throw an arm around his shoulder and waves you over.  

You weave through the tables until you cross the threshold of their little hide-out. Abigail greets you first with a short sidehug before you go over to him and Sam.  

“Hey,”  

“Hi Sam.” You pause, tilting your head. “Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than usual.”  

Sam beams. “I did! And you’re the first one to notice, other than my mom. Goes to show who my real friends are,”  

Sebastian nudges him, pulling away from his grip. “I see enough of your face everyday. There’s nothing for me to observe.”  

“It looks nice,” You add. Charming and genuine. Sam smiles at you. 

“Thanks,”  

Sebastian is weirdly jealous until you address him in conversation. “Hey to you too Sebastian.”  

His heart thumps. This is ridiculous. He swallows. “Hey. Uh. How have you been?”  

Awkward. So awkward. You smile a little and lean on the pool table besides him with your drink, taking a sip. “Good. Busy as usually getting ready for Winter. Renovated our coop recently so I’ve got a whole bunch of baby bunnies I gotta take care of. Went and bought another heater, some extra hay. Just farm stuff. Not very interesting,”  

“I find it interesting,” He replies quickly. You lip twitches in a smile.  

“I’m glad.”  

“Baby bunnies sound so cute,” Abigail adds. Sebastian glances at her as she joins the rest of them. “What else have you got in there?”  

“A little of everything. Chickens, ducks. I’ve got a void chicken too, kinda freaky. Oh and these little dino looking guys.”  

Abigail looks bright eyed. “Would it be like… weird if I asked to go over? I kinda wanna see them?”  

You laugh. “Not at all. I don’t mind. You could honestly go over whenever but it’s hard to navigate the farm if I’m not there, though I’m trying to fix that this upcoming winter.”  

You glance then at Sebastian, eyes almost sparkling. “You should come over sometime, too. You’d like the void chicken I think. And I’ve got a slime hutch.”  

Sebastian sputters at the obvious invitation only barely managing to cover up the shock to his system. You don’t seem put off, but it’s obvious you know what you’re doing. He’s going to explode.  

Abigail and Sam make not-so-subtle eye contact before Sam clears his throat.  

“Well, uh, me and Abi are gonna head out. We’ve got some stuff to catch up on, but there’s still a few hours until the saloon closes so you two should stay here and finish up  our drinks and stuff. Uh… yeah. See you again,”  

Sam nods, quickly rifling for his things. Abigail follows in his foot steps.  

“Mhm, yep. See you,”  

Sam gives him one last encouraging look before turning around and leaving. The two of them scurry off in a blink of an eye, before Sebastian can get a single word in about the situation or tell them to stay. And now he’s alone with you, quietly wondering if it’s as awkward as it feels.  

You’re the one to break the ice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”  

Sebastian blinks. “Uh no. Not really.”  

“Me either. We should stay back then, for a little while.” You offer with a shrug. “Why not, right?”  

Right. Sebastian is being really chill about this entire interaction. “Right.”  

“I’m glad I got to see you tonight,” You say, out of the blue. Sebastian nearly jumps in his skin at the admission. “I’ve been pretty busy with the growing season ending so I haven’t been you know, able to come by as often. I don’t know if it made a huge difference to you but—“ 

“It did.” He blurts out. Your mouth opens then closes again, a blush crawling up his neck as he tucks his chin in embarrassment. “It was uh, weird for me. I know you’re busy and I like my alone time but I did… miss you.” 

“Yeah?”  

He’s almost too afraid to meet your eyes. When he manages  - you’re smiling fondly, sweetly with a sense of amusement. It rolls off of you in waves and it becomes clear to him in that split second that you don’t really intend to hide how you feel despite him being so hellbent on making sure he does. You’re not hiding that you like him. It feels stupidly warm and fuzzy.  

You look like you’ve been working all day and you smell a little like grass and rain in a way that makes him want to draw that much closer to you. So he does, leaving into your space.  

“Yeah.” He manages, barely getting the words out without being a complete wreck. “It’s new for me.”  

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever they say.” And then, even more sweetly. “I missed you too.”  

Fuck. You’re… fuck.  

Sebastian pretends to wipe something from his face just to cover it and make his blush less obvious. This is embarrassing. He likes you so much and for what.  

There’s a million things he wants to tell you but he can’t find the words for any of them. So he tucks in on himself and wonders how the fuck he would ever go about actually dating you.  

You inch closer to him. Tentative, until your thighs are touching. He doesn’t move away.  

Suddenly, you’re close to him than you’ve ever been. Looking from the corner of your eye, Sebastian turns his head to meet your gaze. You’re an inch apart, and he’s looking at your lips - slightly chapped from the weather. The faint scent of alcohol on your breath makes him dizzy. Your smile is what does him in ultimately. A subtle tug at the corners of your mouth, a little teeth. Something about it precious.  

“Hey,” You mutter.  

“Hm,”  

“Can I kiss you?” 

He responds with leaning forward to do it first. It’s chaste and easy, and he does it because you’ve already taken so many first steps and he should, at least, take this one. So he leans into kiss you and it feels like his whole body is melting. It’s brief and light and he pulls away before it feels like it should be over.  

You part for a breath, a single heartbeat - before your hands go up to cradle the side of his face. You kiss him deeper that time. A real kiss where he can taste you enough to know that you drank - one he would only want to do in the privacy of this confined spaced. He feels you in your entirety  - returns your gesture with a careful hand on your waist that you don’t pull away from.  

And it doesn’t stop. Like neither of you want it too, despite everything else. Despite the fact he’s doing this in the bar of his hometown where everyone will gossip about it without doubt, and despite knowing that  - the drive to kiss you is stronger than his usual sensibilities. So you kiss and kiss and kiss, short presses followed by long, firm ones. A slight brush of tongue, the soft nip of teeth as you tease and tug. All mirth and amusement and fondness and bravery and god he is so into you it’s ridiculous.  

You manage to pull away from each other after a while. His lips are tingly. And there’s a sheepishness to you both that makes it hard for him to look your way.  

“Hey, Sebastian.”  

He clears his throat.  

“Uh. Yeah?”  

“I’m gonna ask you out tomorrow. Properly.”  

He blushes. “…I’d be cool with that.”  

You grin. “Yeah?”   

Shit he’s happy. He is not gonna get a lick of sleep tonight. He smiles a little to himself.  

“Yeah.”  

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[anghraine]

#oh op!!#I’d never considered the parallelism of lady Catherine and Mr Bennett#I feel like perhaps lady Catherine’s treatment of her charge (Anne) and her expectations of her as this grand lady as equates some how to#the possible road Darcy could have gone down with Georgianna#this is a half baked thought but anyways#you put it all into words very well here#1000000/10 (via @a-mythologynerd)

Thank you! I think that's a great reading, actually—Georgiana isn't in poor physical health or a fragile waif in appearance the way Anne is, but she's shy, vulnerable, and respects Darcy's force of personality and conviction to the point of near-awe (for instance, when the narrator briefly shifts to Georgiana's perspective, we find her believing "his judgment could not err"). It would be really easy for Georgiana to be completely overshadowed by him the way Anne has become this total nonentity in the shadow of the behemoth that is Lady Catherine's personality.

(This even extends to appearance, even though Georgiana doesn't look like Anne. Elizabeth notices on her first introduction to the Rosings ladies that while Anne isn't plain, she's forgettable and looks nothing like Lady Catherine; upon meeting Georgiana, Elizabeth thinks she's womanly and pleasant-looking but not as beautiful as Darcy. Elizabeth is not unbiased in either case, but it does seem that Darcy is physically and in demeanor a much more striking person and presence than Georgiana, much as Lady Catherine is re: Anne.)

I think we see some interesting indicators about this, actually, in Darcy's remarks about Georgiana to Lady Catherine, when Georgiana isn't even there. Lady Catherine is pushy and overbearing about Georgiana in a way that would undoubtedly overwhelm timid Georgiana if she were there. Darcy's responses are civil enough but equally clear and forceful in insisting that Georgiana does not need to be pressured.

From what we see of his relationship with his sister, Darcy seems to know how easy it would be for him (much less Lady Catherine!) to crush Georgiana's spirit without much effort. While he's a very present quasi-parental authority figure in Georgiana's life, he's clearly careful about providing opportunities for her to express things—he defends her constant musical practice, Georgiana talks more when he's around, he encourages Georgiana to join him in social niceties without putting it all on her, they write long letters to each other, etc. Anne doesn't receive this kind of careful nurturing (and as far as we know, she's never come as near to danger as Georgiana did—yet Darcy's approach to Georgiana doesn't seem at all determined by l'affaire Wickham). The Darcy siblings' relationship could end looking very much like Lady Catherine's with Anne given the temperaments involved, but instead Darcy is evidently going to a lot of pains to make sure that doesn't happen.

In a way, that (inverted) parallel reminds me of how Darcy and Lady Catherine are also paralleled in terms of their authority over the many people under their power. Both are highly active, involved authority figures in what they see as their social responsibilities where Mr Bennet is an irresponsible procrastinator (Elizabeth is nowhere near as bad as Mr Bennet, but doesn't appear to ever think about social responsibilities reaching beyond her own genteel/upper mercantile world until she meets Mrs Reynolds—by contrast to someone like Emma). There's almost a Mirror universe quality to how Darcy's proactive concern for those under his power has its recognizable but much worse counterpart in Lady Catherine sallying forth to settle her cottagers' disagreements, silence their complaints, and "scold them into harmony and plenty."

Even Lady Catherine's officious interference with Darcy's marital choices based on a plan for him made years earlier with Lady Anne has its echo in Darcy's own interference with Bingley's marital choices. Lady Catherine's motives are tied up with her relationship with her sister, with the prestige and wealth her daughter would gain (and her aggressive advancement of said daughter's interests), with her desire for an effective merger between the Darcy and de Bourgh properties via the Fitzwilliam connection (something that would benefit all three families including Lady Catherine), etc. It's not a villainous plot against Darcy, but a plan in which, on paper, everyone stands to benefit enormously (Darcy most of all, in fact)—but there's an obvious element of self-interest and self-aggrandizement in it for Lady Catherine, too.

Similarly, Darcy's motives are tied up with his relationship with his sister, who he'd like to marry Bingley. I'd argue that, socially, Bingley is far beneath what Georgiana could expect in the ordinary course of things, but not so far as to be inappropriate, and he's personally kind and gentle in ways that would be really good for Georgiana in a few years after what she's been through. But the convenience of the Darcys can't dictate Bingley's life choices and he doesn't see Georgiana that way at all.

At the same time, Darcy is also motivated by concern for Bingley's future, social advancement, and happiness based on a genuine belief that Jane is admirable but doesn't love Bingley. And Elizabeth herself earlier argued that someone who doesn't know Jane is very likely to reach that conclusion—she thought that was a good thing and Charlotte that it's unwise on Jane's part, but they agreed that it was probable before Darcy ever started evaluating Jane's behavior. His approach feels less obnoxious than Lady Catherine's because he's a more complex, intelligent, nuanced, and principled character than his aunt, and because he himself soon recognizes his misjudgment when it's pointed out to him (in very unfavorable circumstances!) and eventually takes active steps to fix things. So again, there are important differences in the finer points here—but we can still see an echo in Lady Catherine of the kind of person Darcy could be if he just lets himself follow his inclinations.

That's a lot of rambling, but I hadn't fully thought of the extra parallels/contrasts between them as parental figures, so I appreciate it!

I'm drafting a long semi-headcanon post as I try to phrase it properly, but I'm tired right now so I'll just leave you with the conclusion:

Mr Bennet has made Elizabeth into the closest feasible approximation of the son he wanted and never had, and relates to her through that framework as much as possible. Meanwhile, Lady Catherine can't quite acknowledge that her literal daughter is a disappointment to her, and instead just openly fantasizes about a totally unrecognizable version of Anne that has never existed. Her real spiritual daughter is Darcy.

[mommybard]

One last one about the election before a return to the normal smutty or geeky posts…though those may be a hot minute anyway cause I'm just not in the headspace for it. 

Its okay to feel afraid. To feel scared.. Anxious. Furious. Terrified. To feel grief over this right now. Or hell, just to be fucking numb for a while. 

Whats important though are the coming days, weeks, months, and years. I've mentioned before on here that I'm Jewish. You would not believe the number of times in our history where various people or groups in power wanted to kill us off or drive us out. Hell it seems like half our holidays are laughing and celebrating because they fucking failed to do it. (Side note so that this doesn't end up snatched by Zionists. Fuck Israel. Free Palestine.)

What gets people through those hard times is hope and their community. Hope that it can get better. That these times are just temporary. That they will end. And their community to help strengthen them. To help support them. To remind them that they are not alone and that there are shoulders to lean on when it gets tough and people they can trust and depend on side by side with them.

So take a few days to grieve. To validate and acknowledge your emotions. To process things. But after that start reaching out to your communities. Your friends and neighbors. Build those bonds. Strengthen those support networks. Get involved in your local politics. Connect with other groups to build coalitions. Work together with people. It'll let you see that you're not alone and that there are a lot of good people out there who are determined to bring on those better times we hope for. 

Theres a whole lot of work ahead of us. And its going to be scary, I won't lie. But the worst thing we can do is give up. Its time to be stubborn as hell and work our asses off making sure we survive this, because those bastards would love nothing more than us falling to despair and doing nothing.

[strawberrystepmom]

bnha ending fix it fic. healing!tomura who goes by tenko x f!reader. reader has a defined quirk (magnetism) and is referred to using the nickname sparkles. | word count: 2.3k reading time: 8 minutes

When a knock echoes through your small apartment, you’re up and running to the door before you are even oriented enough to figure out what’s going on.

You fell asleep at your desk. Again. Probably slumped over halfway through the last audit you vaguely remember working on which was for the Ingenium agency. It’s easy to lose track of time when you spend it stapled to your tablet and work bench, fretting over how to make the country you now call home safer. 

A second knock rings and you groan softly, stepping toward the door as fast as you can in a half awake and partially dressed state. Your tank top straps sag off of your shoulders, one of your socks has disappeared but there’s no time to search for it.

The door is in view. You twist the lock to unlatch it, pulling the door open. Blinking to adjust your eyes, they widen before you can think.

“Tenko?”

The dark haired man stands in front of you, clad in a hooded sweatshirt and dark colored sweatpants indicating he likely just got off patrol alongside Deku. There’s still around 6 months until he’s released from the fellow hero’s watchful eyes to act on his own though the prior 6 passed far more quickly than he expected. It turns out this hero stuff isn’t so bad.

He won’t meet your eyes, hands shoved into his pockets, obviously chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“Are you okay?” You ask in a rush, opening the door wider to invite him in. 

His eyes further avert their gaze toward something that must be very interesting on the corner of your building. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, awkwardly. 

“I, uh…is this a bad time?”

Shaking your head, you wave your hand over the space created so that he can enter the practical hovel you call home. He doesn’t look at you while he slips inside, careful not to touch you in any way as he passes, practically melding with the wall. 

“I hate to ask again since clearly you aren’t,” you begin once his back has turned and he’s slowly started making his way toward your workbench stationed in the living room. “But are you okay? Did something happen?”

There’s no response for a beat. The man clears his throat, looking over his shoulder before quickly averting his face forward again. 

“You’re…I thought maybe I interrupted something since you’re barely dressed.”

You look down to realize you’re wearing nothing on your lower half but your scandalously small underwear. There’s no sense in making a big deal out of it so you shrug although he can’t see it, padding back into the main living area to join him. 

“I mean, I was asleep but you didn’t interrupt that because I would have been up in a little bit anyway.”

Stopping, you take a moment to admire the outline of him illuminated by your desk lamp, the strenuous routine required by a hero clearly doing him some good as far as you can tell. His hair is healthy, his frame is broad, and he turns his face to look over his shoulder at you once again. 

“I’m alright though.”

Smiling at his confirmation that everything is as it should be, you pick your pace back up and slide into your stool while he leans against the side of your bench. You engage your quirk, Magnetism, as a reflex and a stray bolt sticks to your arm. 

The faintest hint of a smile comes across his face, now turned downward in your direction. You disengage your quirk with a sigh, the sound of metal dropping back down to metal accompanying it. The screen on your tablet lights up when you look down at it, the time across it in large white numbers. 

2:15 AM.

“I can see why you were worried you’d interrupted something, these are booty call hours after all.” 

You joke, twisting back and forth on the stool and looking up at him through your lashes. 

“So are you here for business or pleasure, Entropy?”

He’s too used to that look, full of appraisal and perhaps a bit of interest, but he never wants to read too much into it. Especially not right now while you’re scantily clad, an eyeful of what lies under your shirt no more than a simple shift in glance away, and indiscriminately running your mouth.

Tenko looks away, cheeks warming. Hands that were buried deep in his pockets are now tucked into the crook of the opposite arm where they’re folded over his chest. 

He has visited your apartment multiple times since the first night he formally met you at Izuku’s. The pair of heroes stop by when they’re in the neighborhood or come by to chat if they’re off patrol, usually being joined by Deku’s girlfriend if she can be pulled away from her clinical studies for long enough to come and giggle for a couple hours. 

“I had some issues with my gear tonight and wanted to have you look at it.”

It’s the worst excuse possible but it’s the best one he could come up with on the fly. 

“Oh. You should’ve just said so,” you continue to mutter to yourself while unlocking your tablet. 

Truthfully, he has no idea why he’s here. Some pull in his chest told him to go the opposite direction when walking home to clear his head so he followed it, landing right at your doorstep and standing outside of the door, too anxious to knock, for longer than he’d ever admit. 

Scrolling through the diagnostics app, you gnaw at your bottom lip and jiggle your sockless foot. You squint at the screen because he knows you need glasses and don’t have them on, probably due to the abruptness of his visit. There are all these little things about you that become impossible to ignore when it’s just the two of you.

“Ah! There you are. Let’s see.” You excitedly sing, while wiggling your fingers. He watches with a smile, so soft he may even just be imagining the feeling of it in his facial muscles.

Everything about you makes him feel…inexplicable. 

The unfortunate truth that he doesn’t know how to face is that your place has become one he associates with safety and warmth, something the grown man four years your senior fears he’ll always seek out no matter how distant Tomura becomes from who he is now. 

Tonight wasn’t a hard night but he didn’t want to be alone, pacing until adrenaline finally slowed down and let him sleep.

How unlike him. 

You hum and continue to orate to yourself, squinting at charts he couldn’t even pretend to get. How you manage to do all of this, accurately, safely, and without breaking a sweat, is truly amazing. 

“It says everything is fine. Can you tell me what issues you were having?” 

Sitting up, you fold your arms over your chest and swing back and forth on the stool. He watches you turn small half circles, realizing he may have been caught. Smiling up at him, you raise a brow. 

“My wrist cuffs felt tighter than usual I guess but that might not be an issue you can fix,” he mumbles, trying to explain himself in any way that he can to cover his lie. 

Rather than torture him by forcing him to dig this little hole he’s found himself in deeper, you change the subject. 

“Have you eaten tonight?” You ask, brow quirked. 

He shakes his head. It was a busy shift and he doesn’t have a lovely girlfriend at home to make bentos with him like Deku does and he managed all evening on the half assed late lunch he packed for himself that was mostly made up of the type of shit he used to eat when he was still Tomura. It’s hard to learn to take care of yourself. 

“Alright. Let me see what I can find to make.” 

You stand, walking into the kitchen. Glancing over your shoulder, it’s hard not to get caught up in how intimate this feels. Your face warms and so does your belly, floored by how handsome Tenko really is in that low light that envelops his profile. 

There’s no way your work would’ve failed him tonight. It means too much that it works well

“Next time, come up with a better excuse. Or just text me and tell me you wanna come over.”

You confirm that he has been caught, literally and figuratively. He debates showing himself the exit but instead follows you into the kitchen. There’s no point in backing away now. His heavy footsteps echo after yours while you dig through the fridge and continue to hum, bopping your head along to a completely made up song. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Glancing over your shoulder while pulling out a carton of tofu, you nod at his question. He keeps his eyes as averted as he can, floored by how exposed you are now that you’re not in a dimly lit room, and clears his throat.

“Why do they call you Sparkles? Is it a hero name or something?”

Snorting, you shake your head and shut the fridge. Making your way to the counter that he leans against, you look up at him and slowly start to get to work while contemplating how to best answer the question.

“I’m surprised the Midoriya’s haven’t told you that story,” you joke about Izuku and his girlfriend as one, despite the formality of marriage not yet being completed. 

“I’ve never really asked them.”

Tenko has asked Izuku many other questions about you, namely about the nature of your friendship with Lemillion and how close you two really are.

“They just like each other’s attention,” Deku comforted his unlikely friend with a pat on the back the last time the entire group of you went out and Tenko watched the blonde man hug you a little too tightly. 

But beyond that, he has managed to feel you out himself. Perhaps against his better judgment and here he is again, desperate to learn a little more. 

“Well when I was a third year my final project to graduate from the support course was a glitter bomb.” 

You finally start, finishing chopping one item and moving onto the next. 

Graduation came not long after the Meta War ended. The project was something you’d worked tirelessly on for months before that, a sophisticated piece of equipment with a state of the art fireless ignition. Safety has always been the reason you wanted to invent and this was a golden opportunity to invent something that had no possible chance of hurting its user. No backfiring, no risk. 

“Honestly, nobody really found the invention that funny except for me given, you know…” you wave your knifeless hand around and raise your eyebrows hoping he gets the message without being insulted. 

Tenko tilts his head to the side, unfolding his arms and bracing them on the edge of the countertop. He picks up what you mean and doesn’t wish to pull the thread, eyes darting from his feet to your hand and back.

“But long story short, Hatsume told me once that they are still cleaning glitter out of the 3A classroom carpets and now everyone calls me Sparkles. I ended up selling the schematics to the support item manufacturer that one of my other classmates works for so it worked out.”

The lack of response worries you although it’s a bit silly to care in the first place. You don’t want his presence to be impermanent but you know that once his time trailing Deku around like a puppy is through, it’s likely he’ll never stop by again. It’s something you’ve kind of resigned yourself to over the last several months after finding yourself a little too invested in what you can do to bring a smile to that handsome face that looks a little more lively every day.

That’s a concern for a few months from now. You’ve always prided yourself on the ability to live in the moment so here you are, choosing to ignore an uncertain future to embrace what’s right next to you.

With an exaggerated sigh, you gather up a pile of green onions with the back of your hand and look up at him with a wry half smile. “Why did you think they called me Sparkles?”

Shrugging, he smiles down at you.

“Guess I always thought it was because of your personality.” 

Biting back a smile, your cheeks warm while you drop the tofu and a bunch of sauces into a now hot pan. 

“You really think I sparkle?”

Chuckling, he lifts himself away from the counter and walks to your other side to gently shake the handle of the frying pan. 

“I think there’s no way you don’t already know that about yourself.”

No sense in arguing with a man who is right. Giggling, you reach for the frying pan handle and gently shove him with your shoulder.

“Hey, you’re my guest. Let me handle it.”

Side stepping, he finds himself looking downward at the slope of your back and once again at your very visible derrière. That same ache that led him to your front door returns, his mouth drying out as he realizes it. 

Why does he feel comfortable enough to stand here? Is progress, improvement even, supposed to feel this terrifying?

“Go sit down Ten,” you nod toward the living area with a smile. “I can handle it.”

Ten.

It has been a long time since someone he considered a friend called him that. He doesn’t recall anyone he’d ever considered more than saying it. 

“And what if I stay right here?” He asks, smiling when you look over your shoulder at him again. 

Is he flirting with you?

“Then I won’t stop you.”

[white--moon]

"About my- ?" He almost says boyfriend, but stops himself and shrugs. "I dunno. I guess I did. It's hard not to wonder if the cop you're bangin', who clearly knows who the biggest drug dealer in town is, is just being a cop. Under cover or whatever. Maybe it just looked less suspicious to be upfront about it when I asked him if he was a cop. You were worried about that girl in my bathroom, but the cop would be the right way to do it." Shiro's aware of his own weaknesses. A hot guy with that added element of forbidden and dangerous that being a police officer brings certainly got his attention.

He tosses his phone onto the bed after sending Ichigo the lady's contact info. He knows Ichigo would treat her right if he contacts her at all.

That laugh sounds uncomfortable. Part of him wishes they could dispense with the trying they're both doing, the other part of him is grateful for the efforts. "It's true, I been bad at not giving you what you want from the very start." Shirt? But it only takes him a second, because when he moved out of his apartment he found that shirt. He thought about giving it to Renji to give back to Ichigo, but he couldn't quite make himself do it. "That was your favorite?"

He gets his answer the moment Ichigo looks at him. They know each other well enough for him to read Ichigo just fine. It's flattering. Then the verbal answer Ichigo gives is weirdly touching. It's very sweet, and maybe too honest, but he finds himself liking it anyway. If they can't be together, maybe they can at least be on good terms. Even not being partners, he likes Ichigo's company.

He snorts. "Of course I did, I look good in or out of anything." But being put to bed sounds nice. Warm and cozy and comfortable sounds nice. He is tired, mentally at least. He offers up a little half smirk at the reassurance. "Let's get outta here. Where do you wanna go?"

He thinks Ichigo's probably being genuine, at least mostly. If their roles were reversed, Shiro's sure he'd find himself hoping Ichigo's new boyfriend was in on it, but Shiro's always been a jealous, possessive asshole. He nods, but not with much conviction. He could have someone check in on his cop. A text to the right person is all it would take. Or he could probably do it himself if he didn't want to involve anyone else. "Haven't had much time to do that."

Ichigo seems to be trying hard to comfort him, but none of that is much comfort, honestly. "Great." There's a little sarcasm in his tone. "Everything I've ever wanted." Except Ichigo, of course, and really Ichigo's what he wants more than anything else. He'd even try damn hard to get clean again for Ichigo.

That sounds an awful lot like it's not going to be Sharpie next time. He's going to have to find a way to repay all these favors Ichigo thinks Shiro's not appreciating enough.

He nods and pulls out his phone, shooting a quick text with a name and phone number to Ichigo, so he can't forget to do it later.

Ichigo glances over and he shrugs. It wasn't much more than that. He doesn't really get attached to things easily, but they're still his things. "I still don't let just anyone touch my clothes. Just so you're aware." The door to his room has a lock on it, half to keep potential drunk and/or high guests from wandering in here and touching his shit.

Shiro trails Ichigo, watching as that sweater comes off, the harness goes on, and then the sweater layers over top of it. He knows it's a practicality thing. Ichigo likes to be packing, probably especially right now, with an active threat., but fucking hell it looks kinky and hot as fuck. He wants to slide his fingers under those straps. "Huh?" He glances up to meet Ichigo's attention, then down at himself. "Oh." He's still in the same clothes he wore to the bar last night. There's a smear of dried blood from Ichigo's wound. Looking good is honestly pretty far from his mind right now, so he goes for a low effort outfit he knows will still work for him. He pulls out a pair of dark, acid washed jeans with too many perfectly aligned tears across the front of the thighs to have been accidental and a tight fitting, black, long sleeve shirt with a wide neck that falls off one shoulder and leaves most of his collar bone exposed. He shakes his hair out after pulling it all out of the back of the shirt. Then he digs out a pair of mid calf boots and tug on. "Good enough?"

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

what am i to you? | pablo gavi

🌧️ synopsis: You’ve been by Pablo’s side through his recovery, and now that he’s back on the field, you should be happy for him – but instead, something feels off between you two. He’s your best friend, but recently, your feelings have started to blur. As he returns to his routines, you can't help but wonder: what do you even mean to him? warnings: angst, unrequited love, emotional tension. (around 2.3k words)

part 1

You’ve never been prouder. Watching him back on the field, surrounded by teammates, the adrenaline high in the stadium, the cheers. He's home again, doing what he was born to do. 

You knew this day was coming, prepared yourself for it, even joked about it with him a hundred times. You’re happy for him, of course – that’s the confusing part. Every goal, every little victory feels like yours too. But as he dives back into training, into traveling, you’re realizing you’re on the sidelines again. Like he’s slipping away, and you’re left trying to hold on to something you can barely reach.

It’s subtle at first. Fewer calls, slower replies. And when he does call, he’s distracted, half in the conversation. You almost bring it up, but you don’t. You’re scared it’ll sound like you’re asking for more than he’s willing to give.

So you brush it off, tell yourself this is exactly what you wanted for him. But a part of you wonders if he even notices you’re still here.

Later, with his family at dinner, it’s loud and chaotic like always, but there’s this weird space between you two. His family notices it right away, and they’re tossing you little glances, like they’re silently rooting for you or something. His sister even nudges him, whispering that he should drive you home – but he just laughs it off.

“I’m tired,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a stretch. “And you’re used to getting back on your own anyway, right?” His words feel like a door closing, and for a second, even his sister seems taken aback.

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes as she grabs her keys. “Come on,” she says gently, her gaze softening when she looks back at you. “I’ll take you.”

The ride home is quiet at first, you’re grateful for it until you notice her glancing over, a look that feels like she’s piecing something together. Finally, she sighs, like she’s been holding it back.

“Do you like him?” she asks, her voice so gentle that it catches you off guard. The question turns into a tightness in your chest. You’re suddenly blinking back tears, horrified by how obvious you must have been.

You shake your head, trying to laugh it off, but your voice wavers. “He can never know. Ever. You have to promise me you won’t tell.” Your voice cracks, and you look away, trying to get a hold of yourself, but the words are spilling out before you can stop them.

She’s quiet for a moment, frowning. “But he’s hurting your feelings. Maybe if he knew…”

You shake your head harder, gripping the edge of your seat. “No. I’ll get over it. And everything will go back to normal.”

part 2

It’s a week later when invites you to play videogames at his house. He’s slouched on the couch, locked into his controller, barely looking up when he says, “She’s hot, right? I mean, did you see her at the game last week?” He laughs, and it’s like he doesn’t even notice you’re sitting two feet away, trying to disappear into the corner of the sofa.

One of his friends shifts uncomfortably, glancing at you before clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh, anyway… what about that new level we were talking about?”

But Pablo doesn't pick up the hint. “No, seriously, she’s perfect. Couldn’t stop staring,” he goes on, oblivious.

Your stomach twists, and you can feel your gaze drop to the floor, trying to blink back the tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. When it gets too much, you stand up, mutter something like “I’ll be right back,” and slip into the kitchen, hoping no one noticed.

Leaning against the counter, you try to breathe through it, to push down the hurt. This is what it feels like, you think, to want something you’ll never have.

Back in the living room, the silence hangs heavy until one of his friends speaks up, his voice lowered. “Dude, are you serious? She’s right there, and you’re talking like that?”

Pablo lets out a clueless laugh. “What? What did I say?”

“Just… go after her,” one of them says, exasperated. “She’s upset. Go check on her, man.”

A moment later, you hear his footsteps, and he hesitates by the doorway, clearly baffled. 

“Hey… are you okay?” he asks. When you look up, you can tell he’s genuinely surprised, like he didn’t see this coming at all.

You shake your head, wiping at your eyes, mortified he had to see you like this. He watches, still looking lost, and then asks softly, “Did I… do something?”

You try to laugh, but it comes out broken. “No, nothing. I’m fine. It’s silly, really,” you say, wiping at your eyes again. “I just thought… that game was sad or something.”

He tilts his head, giving you a small, half-smile. “Sad?” he repeats, disbelieving. “You don’t usually cry over video games.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his hands reaching out instinctively to brush over your shoulders, his thumb moving gently in slow, reassuring circles. Then, without thinking, he leans in, pressing a warm kiss to your temple. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” he murmurs softly.

And it’s moments like these that planted your feelings, you realize, the way he just slips so easily into being close to you, holding you without a second thought. This is Pablo: easy, affectionate, always touchy, with hugs and soft kisses for everyone he cares about.

You remind yourself he’s like this with everyone, that it’s not just you.

“Really, I’m okay,” you murmur, feeling silly for letting it get to you. But he’s still looking at you, his eyes full of that quiet worry, and you can tell he doesn’t entirely believe you.

He pauses, his friends' words clearly replaying in his mind, and he wonders if he’s the reason you’re upset. The thought flits across his face, and it hits him hard; you can see it – a mix of guilt and confusion. But then he blinks, like he’s decided to push that doubt away, choosing instead to trust what you’re telling him, to believe that he knows you better than anyone else.

“Alright,” he whispers, “if you say so.”

He’s so close, and his touch is so gentle that it takes everything in you not to melt right there in his arms. You hold on to every bit of restraint, telling yourself he’s just being the same Pablo he’s always been – kind, warm, a little too affectionate. It’s just who he is.

But his lips brush against your temple again, softer this time, and for a split second, you let yourself believe there’s something more there. Then, you shake off the thought, force a small smile, and hug him back just as tightly.

part 3

It starts with little things at first, the way he lingers a moment longer when he says goodbye, or the concerned looks he shoots your way when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. Pablo’s friends, his family – they’ve all noticed something between you two that he can’t quite understand yet. And after weeks of sensing that something’s wrong, he finally works up the courage to bring it up.

“Let’s do something, just us,” he says. And of course, you say yes, because when have you ever been able to say no to him?

So the next day, you’re with him, walking around the lake, your lake, tracing the same path you used to take during his recovery. He’s shuffling his feet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, kicking stones in that aimless way he does when he’s nervous. For a while, he doesn’t say anything, just walks beside you in silence, and you start to wonder if maybe he’s changed his mind. But then he looks over, all serious, his giant puppy eyes holding that sincere, almost vulnerable look that gets you every time.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he starts, and there’s this pause, like he’s searching for the right words. “With you, I don’t have to pretend. Everyone else… I don’t know, there’s always this pressure. But with you, I can just… be me.” He smiles a little, like he’s surprised at his own honesty. “I don’t know what I’d do without that.”

And there it is – the thing you’ve been aching for and dreading all at once, the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the one who grounds him, who keeps him steady. You try to keep your expression calm, neutral, but it’s hard to hide the hurt, the way your chest tightens because he has no idea. And of course, he notices. He’s Pablo, and despite everything, he knows you too well to miss it.

“Wait,” he says, scared of what he’s about to uncover. “Is there… something more?”

And here it comes, this big moment you’ve been holding off, the thing you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You want to say something, anything to deflect, to shrug it off like it’s nothing, but he’s looking at you with this intensity that tells you he’s not going to let it go.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” he mutters, half to himself, and there’s this look on his face, like he’s piecing together all these little things he missed, connecting dots he didn’t even know were there. And now, it’s like he’s finally seeing the whole picture, and it’s both surprising and heartbreaking.

He reaches for your hand, his thumb tracing a gentle line over your knuckles, the touch so familiar it makes your heart ache. “You… you feel something for me. Something more.” His voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s testing the words, trying to make sense of this new reality. You see it all hit him – the shock, the guilt, even a bit of regret.

“I didn’t know,” he says softly, his eyes searching for yours, pleading. “I thought… I thought you saw me like family. Like… a brother.” He lets out a little laugh, but it’s sad. “I even tried flirting with you once, remember? But I stopped because I thought I’d ruin this.”

And there it is, the confession he’s been holding back, the words that sting and comfort you all at once. He takes a deep breath, his voice catching as he finally says it out loud. “I love you, you know that? I love you so much that… that I don’t think of you like that. Because I can’t imagine my life without you. Ever.”

His words settle between you, heavy and bittersweet. You know he means it, that he loves you with this raw, overwhelming intensity – but not in the way you wanted. And as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, you realize you’ll have to live with that. He’s here, holding you tight, whispering words meant to reassure you, but they only tear you apart a little more.

“Say something, please,” he murmurs, his voice thick, like he’s afraid he’s pushed you too far.

And somehow, through the ache in your chest, the words spill out, broken and raw. “I’m trying so hard to get over you it’s hurting me.”

He holds you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back as he whispers, “I never wanted you to feel like this.”

You pull away slightly, not enough to break free, but enough to look him in the eye. And the words spill out before you can stop them, your voice unsteady, a mix of disbelief and hurt. “I can’t believe you just told me all these things just to tell me we’re just friends.”

Your chest tightens, the weight of it all hitting you like a wave. You try to hold it together, but everything you’ve been hiding, everything you’ve been burying inside, starts to unravel. “Am I crazy?” you ask, the question coming out sharper than you intended. “You really can’t see anything more?”

It’s too much. The way he looks at you, like he wants to take it all back, like he never meant to cause you this pain. You try to swallow the knot in your throat, but it’s impossible to ignore how his words cut into you, leaving you feeling exposed, raw.

Pablo shifts, his eyes searching yours, unsure of how to fix this, how to make it better. His expression flickers between guilt, confusion, and a sort of helplessness. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just–” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I just don’t want to lose you, okay? But I can’t... I can’t think of you like that.”

Your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again, and you take a step back, too afraid to hear more. “You don’t get it, do you?” you whisper, the words barely audible. “You’ve always been everything to me...”

Pablo stares at you for a long moment, his mouth slightly open as if he’s searching for something, anything, that will make sense of it. Finally, his shoulders slump, defeated. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes the hurt even worse. “I wish I could give you what you want… but I can’t.”

The silence stretches between you both, thick and heavy, and you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or just run away from it all. Every inch of you is torn between wanting to hold on to him and the overwhelming pain of knowing he doesn’t feel the same. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whisper, but the words don’t carry the weight they should. They feel hollow, desperate. “Can we just pretend, then? I promise I’ll try harder to get over this, I just can’t lose you.”

Your voice cracks at the end. You want to believe it’s possible, that maybe pretending – just for a little while – will ease the ache, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple. You can't just switch off what you've felt for so long, not now.

But it’s all you have left, isn’t it? The hope that somehow you can make things work, even when you know it's tearing you apart.

[missmoonfrost]

You're scared of me - a wolfstar short fic

Written for @wolfstarmicrofic and the prompt: The Forbidden Forest. But once again I failed to limit the word count to 1k...

Remus wakes up panting, with an acute sense of something being wrong. There is the familiar ache and nausea after the transformation. He is freezing cold. The wind blows around him and he reaches out after a blanket or something to cover himself with. His hands grab pine needles and damp moss. His eyes jolt open. This is not the shack.

He is alone in The Forbidden Forest. Completely bare under a leather jacket, spread over him like a blanket. Sirius’ jacket. As if that wouldn’t be enough to worry about, he has a gnawing feeling there is something more. Something worse.

He tries to sit up but doesn’t get far before a sharp pain in his back stops him. He manages to heave up on one elbow and get a look around. He doesn’t recognise it, as far as he knows he could be in the middle of nowhere.  There is a pile of fir twigs and dry grass underneath him and the canopy of brushwood shielding him has been enhanced with dense branches. Someone has built him shelter.

He hears the rustling of something big approaching. Fear overcomes the pain. Fire shoots through his back as he turns towards the sound. The sight of large teeth and dark fur makes his heart stop. He scrambles backwards before he realises it’s Padfoot. Relief floods him and with a big exhale he collapses down onto the little nest.

Padfoot yaps happily, lets go of the mouthful of branches he has been dragging along and immediately cuddles close to Remus, licking him and brushing his head against his body. Remus closes his eyes and weakly lays his arms around Padfoot. The dog presses his warm furry body against him. With a moment of concentrated stillness, he turns into Sirius.

“It’s okay”, he murmurs, “I’m here. You’re here. You’re awake. It’s going to be okay.”

Remus tightens his grip and buries his face against Sirius' shoulder.

“What happened?”

The tension in Sirius' chest and the fraction of a second longer than expected before he answers is enough for Remus to know. He has done something terrible.

“There were hikers in the woods. Muggles.”

Remus sits up despite the pain and pinches his eyes closed as hard as he can. No. Anything but that. Not biting some innocent soul and condemning them to this hellish fate.

“It’s okay.” Sirius hands rubs his back.

“It’s not okay!”

Sirius sighs and continues rubbing Remus' back in big calm circles.

“Did I…” Remus manages after a moment.

“You didn’t bite anyone. But they saw you. James and Peter stayed to calm things over. I chased you away.”

“Thank you.”

The wolf’s memory is always fussy, but Remus thinks he can recall the dog bouncing around, inviting him to play. The wolf usually likes that. But this time the dog had annoyed him and got in his way. He had been hunting something, trying to follow a scent.

That thought has him cold to his bones.

But the dog had not let him finish his hunt. It had lounged itself at him until he’d snapped at it and chased after it instead.

Remus puts his hand before his mouth. “Did I hurt you?”

“No”, Sirius reassures and tugs the sleeve of his T-shirt to cover something, “not much.”

“Let me see!”

Sirius rolls his eyes and holds his arm out. It’s a slash of claws, running down half his upper arm. The blood has dried, but there is the tell-tale shimmering tint of a magic wound. His claws made this.

“See? It’s nothing.”

“I could have bit you”, Remus gasps. The trees start spinning around him. Sirius, a damned werewolf because of him.

Sirius gently puts his arms around Remus back again, but he brushes him of.

“I could have bit you, Sirius!”

“But you didn’t.” Sirius looks into Remus' eyes and when Remus franticly looks around, Sirius moves his head catching his gaze again and holding it firm. “Hey! You didn’t.”

Remus is lightheaded and nauseous and feels like he is drowning. If he is going to drown anyway, he can as well drown in these caring honest silver eyes.

“Breath”, Sirius reminds him.

Remus takes a deep breath, and then another. The trees stop spinning. Sirius moves his hand as if to touch Remus’ back again, but then stops as if to ask permission. Remus can’t find the words but leans into his touch. Sirius' arms gently wrap around him. The warmth of the closeness is welcome in the cold. Remus lays his arms around Sirius' back as well. The smell in the crook of Sirius' neck is comforting. His steady breaths are soothing. His raven hair tickling Remus' cheek is uplifting.

Too soon Sirius draws back and looks examining at him.

“Can you walk?”

Remus tries to straighten up and the pain in his back returns. With a deep breath, he pushes through it and stands, only to tumble forward and get caught by Sirius in the last second.

“No. My back. It’s too much.”

“I would heal you, but my wand is still in the shack.”

The thought of Sirius leaving him here has his breath catch in panic.

“I’ll stay here with you”, Sirius reassures. “Everything will be all right.”

“How, though?”

“They will find us.”

“And do what? I am supposed to stay in the shack. They are going to expel me! They are going to put me in Azkaban!”

“Shh, calm down. We’ll figure it out.”

Remus closes his eyes and tries his best to calm down. Tries to focus on Sirius' voice, breaths, and heartbeats.

As he shifts closer to Sirius the breaths become irregular and the heartbeats speed up. For a moment Remus is confused, but then it dawns on him.

“You’re scared of me.”

Sirius scoffs. “No, I’m not.”

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” The drumming speeds up even more as well as Sirius' breath and he wets his lips.

“It’s okay.” Remus lets go of him and rolls over on the other side. “I realise it was scary. I was scary. You don’t have to pretend you like me. I am a monster after all.”

Sirius sits up. “You are not a monster. And you don’t realise how much I like you at all.”

Remus draws further away. “Keep saying that. I can still hear your heartbeat.”

Sirius' hand lands on his shoulder but he shrugs him off.

Sirius lets out a deep shaky breath and says in a small trembling voice. “Is that really so strange? Of course, my heart speeds up when I’m near you, you’re… Moony, you’re beautiful. And kind of naked. I like being near you.“

His heartbeats are faster than ever now, but other than that he doesn’t move. Remus rolls over to face him and sees him sitting with his hands clenched in his lap, cheeks flushed and eyes firmly set on the ground.

Remus slowly sits up and leans forward to try to catch Sirius eye.

“You… really?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can think of that when you're hurt, and we’re out here, and you just went through a big trauma. But believe me, it’s not because I’m scared.

For a long moment, Remus just sits there and marvels at the thought. Sirius Black, his friend and saviour, is attracted to him. Is he supposed to think that is weird? Sirius sure acts it is as if it’s something bad. It doesn’t feel bad. Not bad at all. Does that mean he is weird as well? Does that mean his fondness and adoration for Sirius is something it shouldn’t be?

That is too much to think about. All he knows is that Sirius' presence feels like a lifebuoy keeping him afloat. For now, that is enough.

Remus reaches a hand out and gently strokes Sirius' arm, from the shoulder down to the fingertips, and takes his hand. Sirius looks up with a questioning expression. Remus smiles, scoots closer and rests his head on Sirius' shoulder. Sirius puts Remus' hand in his other one, careful to never lose the grip, and throws his arm around Remus' back.

For the longest time, they just held each other, trying to stay as close as possible. When there’s a rustle in the bushes Sirius jolts and springs to his feet.

“There you are.” James relieved voice cuts through the branches. “Peter is distracting Madam Pomfrey, but we need to hurry back. Are you hurt?”

[zigrethsnotebook]

I must warn you: you have a dangerous effect on my heartrate.

Ford x Reader

words: 1,807

tags: sfw, fluff, talk about the supernatural

The rain pelted down as you stared out the window in Greasy's Diner. It was just your luck that the weather turned the way it did when you were in the middle of nowhere. You sighed and took a sip of the hot chocolate the waitress had brought you. At least something to cheer you up.

You eyed the rain angrily when the man in the booth in front of you spoke up. Quite loudly, too, or you wouldn't have heard him over the rain. "The weather is only going to get worse, you know? The forecast predicted a thunderstorm from now until tomorrow." You groaned at that and slouched further into your seat as a nigh cinematic thunder shook the diner.

The man seemed amused. "What brings you to Gravity Falls anyway?" He half shouted through the diner at this point. "A thunderstorm, apparently," you grumbled, more to yourself than him, and also far too quiet for him to hear. He stared at you so you said, louder this time: "I was supposed to meet some friends at a convention on the supernatural tonight. Only about 50 Miles north from here."

The man's eyes lit up at the mention of the supernatural. "That sounds exciting! Sorry, that you won't make it there tonight." You gave him an appreciative nod. You were already annoyed at the shouting.

The man looked down to the cup in his hand for a moment, then looked back up at you, opened his mouth and closed it again before looking out the window as well. After a few moments he had gathered enough courage to speak to you again.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

You kind of did mind. The weather had ruined your day and you weren't exactly in the mood for small talk. Then again, with nothing to do you were already starting to get bored. Maybe he could help you find a place to stay the night if it really doesn't get better out there.

You gestured to the seat in front of you, inviting him into your booth. He smiled, grabbed his cup, walked the few steps he needed to reach you and placed his cup back down on your table as he sat down.

"Stanford Pines." He introduced himself, much quieter now, and held out his right hand for you to shake. You took it without taking your eyes off his face and introduced yourself as well. He raised one of his eyebrows, apparently amused again but you couldn't figure out why.

He had a handsome face, a strong chin, gray hair and glasses that had a little crack in them. You wondered why he hadn't replaced them.

"So... what kind of convention on the supernatural were you talking about? Something worth checking out?" Stanford smiled a genuine smile. You could feel yourself relax a little at that - so he wasn't trying to pick you up.

What a nice change of pace! These last couple months you had had many encounters with disgusting older men who thought they could lecture you on something they pretended to know more about than you. Like how the female body works and other such things.

No, this guy seemed actually interested in that convention. The convention you couldn't go to because of the storm. You sighed sadly and watched his expression fall as well. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you."

You gave a bitter "Ha." before actually answering. "Unless you are the cause for this storm there's nothing for you to worry about." You sighed again, starting to feel like you're being overdramatic.

"The convention is awesome. It's a yearly event, today would be the... 11th? Year for them. You see, I have a - maybe a little childish - fascination with the supernatural. And every year at that convention they gather all kinds of experts on the topic to talk about their findings. Last year they had that guy who took the photo of bigfoot! And those guys from Ghost Files!"

Stanford listened to you intendly with a small smile on his face as you continued to ramble about your favorite topic.

"I've been to that convention every year for the past 7 years. It's where I met one of my best friends in the world so it would even be special to me if it was terrible." You chuckled at yourself.

"Either way, they live in Canada and I obviously don't, so this is really the only time we see each other. And I mean, I will drive up there tomorrow after the storm settled and we'll still spend the next week together. But today is the opening of the convention - it goes on for 3 days by the way - and I'm just really bummed that I'll miss that."

You had sat upright for your explanation in excitement but slouched back into the seat at your last sentence.

Before Stanford could respond to your story the waitress showed up at your table again and topped off his coffee. "Oh, and another one of that drink, please." He pointed at your empty cup. Oh no, had you misjudged him?

"My, Mr. Pines! Barely leaves his house - but when he does...!" Before she turned to get your drink she winked at you. Or... you thought she did, it was a little hard to tell with one of her eyes constantly closed.

"You don't have to, you know?" You told him, gesturing to his cup and he immediately seemed to falter and blushed terribly. "Oh! Oh no, I wasn't suggesting... It's just. Very rare to find someone who is genuinely interested in the weird and supernatural! I just wanted to prolong our conversation."

The blush stayed on his cheeks as his eyes darted across the room and occasionally landed on you, looking for a reaction to his words. You chuckled. "Oh, I see. That's sweet of you." Maybe what the other men lacked were some manners and common sense.

The waitress set another hot chocolate down in front of you and you smiled at her and when she turned around you smiled at Stanford. After you took your first sip you decided to hear from him a little.

"So you said you like the weird and supernatural as well?" His face immediately lit up. "Yes! I've been studying the weird things happening in this town for years!" He pulled a notebook of some sort out of his coat pocket. It seemed fancy but really worn.

He presented it to you. It had a golden hand with the number 3 written on it on the cover. Something about it was a little off, but you couldn't put your finger on what. A lighting bolt lit up the sky for a second and moments later the diner shook again.

He started to flip through the notebook, talking fast and very enthused. Each page showed various creatures. Most of which sounded ridiculous, but some were more familiar to you - Gnomes, the Undead and so on.

By the time he had flipped through most of the book and explained lots of different things to you, you had each had three more cups of your respective drinks.

The book lay open in front of you as Stanford, or Ford as he later told you, downed his fourth cup. It was also getting late and you still had to find a place to spend the night, the diner would close up eventually.

You closed the notebook, signaling Ford that you would like to talk about something else now. Another thunder shook the tables as you instinctively put your hand over the golden hand on the book.

Just out of your line of sight, Ford blushed again while you realized what had felt off about that cover. The hand had an extra finger! You looked up at Stanford excitedly, and before you could even ask he held up his hands to you, showing off his extra fingers.

That fact did nothing to temper your excitement. How could it! "You are one of the creatures you study!" You had blurted it out without a second thought and quickly covered your mouth with your hands in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude." You told him in a tiny voice. He chuckled fondly. "Don't feel bad, I took it as a compliment! Very few people get excited when they see my hands. Most find them repulsive." He turned his hand around to look at it with a certain melancholy while he said that.

"Are you kidding me? Your hands are the highlight of my day!" Ford met your eyes when you spoke and you watched him blush at your words. Then you blushed as well. "I- I didn’t mean..." You trailed off, unsure how to talk yourself out of that one and instead looked out the window again. The rain was just the tiniest bit softer now.

You sighed and tried to change the subject. "You wouldn't know a nice place I could stay the night, would you?" Ford took his notebook and put it back in his coat. "Of course I do! You could stay at my place." You snapped back to face him, the blush still in full effect on your cheeks.

He didn’t falter this time. "Granted, the place is a little crowded right now, with my brother living there and our niece and nephew staying over for the summer... but they'll be happy to know I made a friend today! And also have someone else to get their minds off the storm."

Ford smiled that honest smile at you again. "Would that be alright with you?" How could you say no to that? Seriously, how?

You nodded and smiled at him. Seconds later he had paid for both of your drinks and led you out the door, both of you rushing to your car.

As you slowly and carefully drove into the woods under Ford's guidance he told you that he would set up a mattress for you in an empty storage room.

"Unless you want to sleep in a real bed, in which case you could sleep in mine, and I would take the couch there." You laughed. "Yeah! We could make a real slumber party out of it and tell ghoulish stories all night!"

Ford chuckled along. "We could do that, but I must warn you: you seem to have a dangerous effect on my heartrate. Unthinkable what would happen if you told me a ghost story."

As he said this you slowly parked your car in front of a wooden house. His house, apparently. "Are you sure that's me and not all the coffee you've been drinking?" You both laughed and then made your way through the rain once more.

Your friend won't believe a word of this tomorrow!

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

Side 3. Rewind with Winter

Note: flashback no jutsu

Masterlist here

This took place a few days after Chapter 35

The quiet in Y/n’s room was only broken by the faint click of his keyboard and the occasional rustle as he shifted in his chair, trying to stay awake. The hour was late, but Y/n was deep into his work when his eyes drifted to a photo resting on his desk—an old, almost faded picture from school days with Winter, tucked in a plain black frame.

The photo brought a nostalgic smile to his face. They were standing under cherry blossoms, laughing at something he couldn’t quite remember. Both of them looked so young, so carefree. He chuckled, realizing how different they were back then—but also how some things hadn’t changed at all.

Just as he traced a finger over the image, a light knock sounded at his door, and Winter’s voice called out softly. “Hon? You’re still up?”

The door creaked open, and Winter slipped inside, blinking sleepily at him. She tilted her head curiously when she noticed the photo in his hands. “Oh my god, is that from high school?” She padded over to him, squinting as she reached for the frame. “I forgot you still had that.”

“Of course I kept it. I’m sentimental, remember?” Y/n grinned, nudging her shoulder. “You look so young here, Jeong. All happy and carefree, dragging me through cherry blossoms.”

Winter laughed, taking a seat beside him and leaning in to get a better look. “Oh, please. You loved it, don’t deny it.”

“Loved it?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, his voice full of mock horror. “Jeongie, you forced me out of my warm, safe bed at 6 a.m. on a weekend……just for cherry blossoms!”

Winter just chuckled, her gaze soft as she looked at the picture. “You know, I dragged you everywhere back then. I don’t even remember why I felt like I had to.”

They both fell silent, slipping into memories that felt both distant and oddly close.

-

It was a chilly spring morning, and Y/n was half-asleep as Winter practically yanked him out of his house. “Jeong, it’s 6 a.m. What on earth are we doing here?” he groaned.

She grinned, pointing towards the cherry blossom trees lining the nearby park. “Just look! Aren’t they beautiful?”

Y/n squinted, still groggy. “Yeah, yeah, they’re nice and all, but I was having a dream about… I don’t know, anything but this.”

“Your dreams are probably boring anyway,”

"No it doesn't" Y/n defended.

"It totally isss" Winter teased, pulling him along the path. She twirled around, laughing under the pale pink trees, completely in her element.

Y/n grumbled but soon found himself smiling despite himself. There was something captivating about Winter’s excitement. He pulled out his phone, snapping a photo as she threw her hands up in a swirl of blossoms. “Gotcha!” he said, grinning.

“YA!” Winter protested, but she laughed, not even attempting to swipe the phone away.

“That’s a terrible angle, idiot! Delete it.”

“Hell no. Evidence that you dragged me out here for ‘appreciating beauty.’”

Winter just rolled her eyes. “Someday, you’ll thank me for expanding your small head”

"My head is not small!"

-

Back in the present, Y/n chuckled at the memory. “I still think I could’ve done without the 6 a.m. part.”

Winter smirked, nudging him. “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t making you miserable somehow.”

He shook his head, eyes shining with warmth. “Oh, trust me, you can open a course with just that.”

Winter punched his shoulder playfully. “I’m glad to be the inspiration for your suffering.”

"Tsk, whatever.”

Y/n slumped back onto his chair, trying to think of a memory that felt special but without all the dramatics.

Suddenly, it hit him, and he smirked, turning to Winter. "Do you remember the time we tried to make kimbap for the school festival?"

Winter’s eyes went wide, and she let out a laugh. “Oh no, don’t even remind me! I was so confident I could make the perfect rolls, and you were just as clueless as I was.”

Y/n chuckled, the memory playing vividly in his mind.

-

It was a Saturday morning, and the kitchen in Y/n’s house was an absolute mess. Seaweed sheets, rice grains, vegetables, and various ingredients were scattered across every available surface as Winter tried to instruct Y/n on “the art of kimbap.”

"Why am I listening to you, by the way?"

Winter glared. "Because my mum told me before your mum did."

Y/n scratched his head, trying the decipher the ridiculous reason she blabbered. "…wha-"

“Okay, idiot, pay attention,” Winter interrupted, rolling up her sleeves as she placed a sheet of seaweed on the bamboo mat. “First, you spread the rice thinly… like this.”

Y/n eventually gave up and just watched her carefully, nodding, though he looked more worried than confident. “Got it. Spread the rice thinly. Easy enough.”

But as he reached over to do the same, his hands were anything but delicate. He pressed the rice too hard, nearly tearing the seaweed sheet. Winter stifled a laugh, leaning over to help.

“You’re not making rice patties, idiot. You need a softer touch.”

He sighed, looking at the uneven clumps of rice spread messily across his seaweed. “Why don’t they make this look hard in the videos? They’re always rolling kimbap perfectly in like, three seconds flat.”

Winter grinned, patting his arm. “That’s because they’ve practiced a million times. It’s fine—we’ll just, you know, eat the ugly ones.”

"Yeah, I'll feed you all that for dinner." Y/n replied.

She continued showing him the steps, adding the vegetables and carefully rolling the first kimbap with a proud little grin. But when Y/n attempted to roll his, it was clear something had gone terribly wrong. Instead of a neat little cylinder, his roll was lopsided and practically bursting open at the seams.

“Oh my god, what is that?” Winter teased, stifling laughter as she held up her near-perfect roll beside his misshapen one.

“Hey, this is… rustic,” he replied defensively, holding up his sad kimbap with an exaggeratedly proud expression.

Winter couldn’t hold back her laughter, shaking her head. “Fine, ‘rustic’ it is! Let’s just hope no one at the festival minds your, uh, ‘unique presentation style.’”

They kept rolling, both growing more comfortable, though Y/n still managed to produce rolls that looked more like rice sandwiches than actual kimbap. In the end, their festival table was half filled with Winter’s perfectly rolled kimbap and Y/n’s “abstract” creations. But to their surprise, both sold out quickly.

“Guess people like rustic after all,” Y/n had said, grinning as they counted the empty plates.

-

Back in the present, Y/n shook his head with a laugh. “I still don’t know how we managed to sell out. I thought people would take one look and just walk away.”

Winter nudged him playfully. “It’s because you kept hyping them up as ‘limited-edition Y/n originals.’ You turned it into a whole event.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hey, I was just trying to make the most of what we had. You’re the one who called them ‘artisanal kimbap’.”

"It looks…unique." Winter grinned. "Hence the name."

"Well…"Y/n shrugged. "At least now I'm the cook in the relationship."

Their banter slowed, both of them lost in thought, when Winter asked, “Remember our trainee days? I thought I retained my cooking skill from that kimbap rolling… until that disaster.”

“Oh, god, that day…” Y/n groaned, already cringing at the memory.

-

They were both late into their training schedules, staying after hours to perfect their routines. Exhausted and starving, Winter had the idea to cook something in the practice room’s small kitchenette.

“Are you…sure about this?” Y/n had asked skeptically as Winter rummaged through ingredients she’d “borrowed” from the shared fridge. “You’ve only ever made, like, ramen, and you messed up even that.”

"Ya, I made kimbap as well!" Winter argued.

"…that the lunch ladies have made?" Y/n glared. "We just needed to roll them."

“Oh shush, whatever, how hard could it be?” Winter had shrugged, tossing a random array of ingredients into a pot. “A little of this, some of that… easy!”

The starting ingredients was quite normal. Sausage, spam, tofu skin. But then the ingredients got a bit more ambitious.

Fish head, chicken legs, broccoli. Pretty much whatever was left in the fridge.

Within minutes, a suspiciously murky smell started filling the room. Y/n’s stomach churned, but Winter, ever confident, was undeterred. “Here, taste it,” she’d said, handing him a spoon with a triumphant grin.

One sip, and Y/n had to bolt to the nearest trash can. “YA, what the actual fck is this? It tastes like… like burned cabbage mixed with… I don’t even know what!”

Winter’s face had turned bright red as she laughed, looking at the mystery concoction in horror. “Okay, maybe it’s a little… experimental.”

“A little?” Y/n had gasped between fits of laughter. “today could've been my last day on earth.”

-

Winter covered her face, laughing at the memory. “Hey, in my defense, you volunteered to taste it.”

“Only because you said it was ‘perfectly seasoned!’” Y/n shot back, eyes wide with exaggerated horror. “I seriously thought I was going to die.”

"Your fault for being gullible." Winter chuckled, shaking her head. “To be fair, we were all struggling back then… I was just a menace in the kitchen on top of it.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the quiet room. But as the laughter died down, Winter looked at him with a soft smile. “You were always there, hon. Even back then, even if I made things… difficult.”

Y/n shrugged, glancing at her warmly. “It's always fun being with you, Jeongie.”

Winter glanced down, her expression turning contemplative. “Sometimes… it feels like we’ve been through so much, it’s hard to believe we’re still here. Like, look at us now, all grown up and making careers out of this crazy dream.”

Y/n’s smile faded a bit, his eyes drifting to the picture in his hands. “You're right…the road was tough but fun nonetheless.”

Winter nudged him with her shoulder, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Not even the 6 a.m. cherry blossom sightseeing?”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “…still no.”

They sat in silence, letting the memories settle around them. Winter eventually glanced at the picture and sighed softly. “Do you…ever wonder…what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t gone through all this? If we’d stayed in school, had normal lives?”

“Sometimes,” Y/n admitted. “But… I think I’d still find my way to you.”

Winter looked at him, eyes wide and slightly misty. She reached out, brushing a finger over the frame. “You know, back then… I was always dragging you around because you were the one person I felt completely comfortable with. I knew that, no matter how tough things got, you’d be there.”

Her words hung in the air, and Y/n found himself at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew that everything she was saying mirrored his own feelings, his own memories.

Feeling moved, his body subconsciously gravitated towards Winter and enveloped her in a warm hug from behind.

Winter was certainly surprised, but eventually welcomed with a small, embarrassed laugh. “Wow, this is getting cheesy, huh?”

“A little,” Y/n grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “But whatever, you're warm.”

She smirked, elbowing him. “Eww. I'm not used to you being lovey-dovey yet, hon.”

“Better get used to it now, Jeongie.” Y/n chuckled, his eyes twinkling with the warmth of their shared memories.

They stood there a while longer, reminiscing about everything from missed dance steps to late-night ramen, all the way to debut days and beyond. The small photo on his desk had brought back a flood of moments neither of them would ever forget. And as Winter finally slipped out of his room, throwing him a quiet, affectionate smile over her shoulder, Y/n felt a comforting, unspoken promise settle between them.

It was a promise that, no matter how much changed, they would always be each other’s constant—a sentiment anchored by years of shared memories, a friendship, and now a relationship, that had withstood the test of time.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

vii ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Knee Socks 

Series mlist 

Tags — mentions of violence, I couldn’t be bothered to siz

Words— 1.2k

Megumi wasn’t watching you. Of course he wasn’t, he wasn’t some sort of creep. Why would he feel a need to watch you anyway? It wasn’t like you were special. No, he didn’t care what you were doing, he barely even knew you so of course he wouldn’t- 

He sighed. His inner monologue was beginning to resemble that of Itadori, it was unlike him. No, he hadn’t been watching you, but he couldn’t deny that when he peered through the open window of his dorm room, he hoped to see you outside. When he caught a glimpse of your [h/c] hair roaming the expanse of the cobblestone that stretched around the residence hall, an odd sort of satisfaction shot through his chest. He’d been meaning to return that bag, anyway. Not that he wanted to speak to you properly or anything. 

He put a hoodie on, the polyester blanketing him and shelling him from the dull chill of the approaching winter. Snow had yet to fall, but the orange of the leaves was beginning to diminish, everything turning into darker, less saturated pallet of colours. He much preferred it this way, he blended in more. The black of his sweater did nothing to stick out against the masses. The soft echo of his footsteps as he descended down the stairs was the only sound ringing through his ears, aside from the soft murmur of surrounding conversations. 

You were simply taking a stroll, headphones resting over your ears as you wandered the paths and walkways of the campus you’d learned to call home. It had only been a few short weeks since you first stepped foot here, but you seemed more in place here than you ever did, even at home. The gentle thump of shoes against ground grew closer and closer, a wave of something akin to what you felt at that Halloween party washing over you. 

A figure fell into step by your side, the midnight blue of his eyes meeting your own. His arm was outstretched, and it took you a moment to look down and see the cherry red grasped in his fingers. Of course, it was your bag! The bag you’d left in his car after chugging enough alcohol with Yuji to kill a grown cow… that was rather embarrassing. You felt your face heat up, a bashful smile tugging at your lips as you let your headphones fall around your neck, and gently took the bag from him. 

“Oh, I almost forgot about that. Thanks,” you said, your hand falling to your side with the bag within it. You could feel your shoulders stiffen, your heartbeat quickening as the realization that this was only your second meeting in half a decade dawned on you. You could barely hold his gaze, not that he was doing much better. A hint of a smile ghosted over his lips, but it was gone in an instant. 

“I figured,” he responded. It didn’t seem as though he’d changed much. There was still a sort of low gravel to his voice, something distant and gruff, but it was more… docile. There was something oddly soft about the way he spoke that felt almost intimate, reserved for those that held a specific importance in his soul. Truly, he was hardly aware of it. Sure, he kept his tone in check. He wanted to be sure that you knew he wasn’t still some sort of delinquent, someone to not be trusted, to not be kept around. He made that mistake once before, he didn’t intend on letting it happen again. 

A tense sort of silence settled over the two of you. You didn’t exactly know what to say, what does one say in this situation? It would be one thing if you’d departed like many friends did, forgetting to exchange numbers or simply falling out of touch. But no. You, the only person he even bothered to trust, socked him in the face with a punch worthy of live TV. 

“It was… odd. Seeing you again,” he broke the silence, daring to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t spoken with disdain or disgust, simply a fact being stated. You nodded, a soft breath of laughter tumbling from your mouth. “It was. You sort of caught me off guard.” 

He eyed you, quirking a brow. “I caught you off guard? You do realize you were standing with my friends, right?” he said. Though he suddenly realized his tone, his voice growing softer as he continued speaking. Of course he didn’t do it too much, though, it’s still Megumi you were speaking to. You chuckled softly once again, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Not fair! Yuji invited me over, it’s not like I infiltrated your friend group on purpose,” you rolled your eyes, a smirk playing at your lips. He mirrored you, too rolling his eyes. Still sassy. Great. 

“I was a little scared, honestly,” you continued, your cheeks tinting a gentle pink. You hoped he’d excuse it, assume it was the cold weather to blame. His eyebrows twitched upwards, question written all over his face. Then it morphed, understanding and a hint of amusement written all over his face. 

“You did make me bleed.”

Your head whipped to the side, arms crossing over your chest. “In my defence, you beat up the guy I was going out with.” He shrugged. He didn’t want you to assume he continued the bad habit of resorting to violence, but he couldn’t act as if it wasn’t justified. “He deserved it,” he said. 

This wasn’t a story you’d heard before. He deserved it? Well, maybe you’d have found out, had the circumstances been different. “How so?” you asked, and it was as if the memory (or lack of) rushed back to him. “That guy was an ass. You didn’t know that he and his friends had a bet on how fast he could get you to… uh, be at his mercy is one way to put it,” he grumbled. 

What. 

You suddenly felt rather stupid. Of course that wasn’t in relation to the boy, a middle school crush, if you could even call him that. It was about Megumi, the way you acted on impulse as a stupid teen when you were oblivious to the fact he had been protecting you. You internally winced, “Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh,” he mimicked, shaking his head softly. “Anyway, I’m not like that anymore, so you don’t have to worry,” he shrugged, glancing to the side. 

You nodded. Yuji had already said so, but hearing it come from him was oddly reassuring. “I assumed so, both considering you have friends and aren’t behind bars by now,” you smirked, growing less anxious as every moment passed. Things weren’t so tense with him, they never seemed to be. He shot a glare at you, though no real heat lied within his eyes. 

“Don’t look at me like that. Remember when you hung Chomei and Okumura from a billboard?” He stayed silent, almost shrinking in on himself as you brought up the memory. He shot you another look, though, a gentle push to shut up. 

“Or when you piled up half of our grade and used them like stepstools? Or when you-“ 

“Alright alright that’s enough I get it.” 

Taglist !¡ —

@meowymeowbreow @1l-ynn @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @qingpunk @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123

the billboard incident being canon is so funny to me

guys please check ur settings and make sure im able to tag you before asking to be on the taglist :(

group collab when

missing school for the second time this week yikes

ty for the love on the most recent chap :3 but also why do some chapters have 90 likes and the other is barely getting 30????? Are we only reading the fifth chapter guys be honest.

watching Saiki k and Mha rn…. Chat I’m expanding…

[aihoshiino]

chapter 165 thoughts

Aqua Hoshigan Status: It's Officially Hoshinover

Chapters Until The Story Ends Without The 143 Kiss Being Addressed Or Acknowledged: 1

damn i guess they really did just kill his ass

I'm gonna be so real with you gamers, I kind of don't have a lot to say about this one either lol. Which I acknowledge sounds completely wild given the Everything that happens in it, but most of my meat and potatoes analysis in these reviews comes from breaking down characterization and we're flying through everything at such breakneck pace that we're barely getting any characterization.

It continues to drive me bugfuck insane that Ai is completely absent from this finale despite the importance of 15 Year Lie. Its imagery is plastered all over but whenever we return to it, we just see Aqua. Not only that, but Gotanda is the one who insists on pushing the movie through for Aqua. 15YL as a story about Ai's true self and her tragedy is now officially taking a backseat to being about Aqua's tragic death and legacy. It was already bad enough that we spent so much time in the Movie Arc not actually focusing on Ai to the extent that, as everyone pointed out, based on what we saw on-page it was basically a Sad Kamiki Movie, but this really is just pissing right in the wound at this point lmao.

The funeral scene also serves as the final nail in the coffin for any Secretly Alive Aqua copes, which is kind of a relief. I still don't like how Aqua's death played out, but I think dragging it out for four chapters then going "sorry you thought i was /srs when i was just /jk" would have been infinitely more insulting. I don't like this ending, but I can respect that Akasaka seems to be sticking to his guns on it, even if we still do have like a whole chapter left for him to whip around and go "I WAS /JK ALL ALONG!!!!" but I don't see it happening.

Anyway, yeah! The funeral! Uh. Is it gonna sound weird if I say I felt kind of like… grossed out reading this the first time? Like, I really don't know how else to explain the visceral "why the fuck is the author making me read this" reaction I had to it. I think it's just because Kana is so fucking distraught here and the drama is just so hammy and so over the top that it feels kind of… ech. I dunno. I just really didn't vibe.

It doesn't help that this is part of a much broader pattern in the back half of OnK of Aka getting us right up close into the gory details of a character's complete mental breakdown and suffering and then spend zero time or focus on their recovery. This happened with Ruby all over the Movie Arc and this many times and with this little runway to the end of the series, it just starts to feel exploitative, like a way to cheaply pull at our heartstrings without doing the work to build everyone back up after tearing them down.

also pre-emptively dreading all the fuel this is going to add to the fires of People Who Are Weird And Misogynistic About Kana but she could die saving innocent children from a burning building and people would find reasons to be shitty about her lmao

we really are not seeing ruby's reaction to finding out her brother was dead huh lol

I will say the one thing I didn't Actively Dislike about this chapter was Ruby, though. I was honestly starting to get pretty skeeved out with how many people were gleefully predicting or actively wishing for her immediate suicide purely for ship motivated reasons and I was also worrying that the story was going to pretend that Ruby doesn't like. Have a life and support system outside of Aqua. Yes, she should absolutely be affected by his death but this period of her shutting down only to drag herself back onto her feet that we seem to be getting feels way more in line with pre-Movie Arc flanderization Ruby and I'll take that W where I can get it.

god. I haven't even talked about Kamiki's supposed serial killer cult. I just don't have the strength. Like… that's self-evidently stupid, right? I don't need to explain to you why that's ridiculous and unbelievable? You don't need me to tell you why it's fucking crazy that we're getting this information about the alleged overarching antagonist of the series not only in the second-to-last chapter of the entire series but after he was already dead, right? We can just move on? Ok good. jesus christ.

FINAL CHAPTER NEXT WEEK…