#but I’ve had. three very emotionally difficult months

[hobisexually]

x

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 11

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn A/N: LADIES N GENTLEMEN, THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! there are multiple POV changes in this, I'm training yall for the arena and Mockingjay. FYI: I was so disheartened bc this felt like the worst past I've written for this story :(((

Past (xii) - Finnick

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Finnick is sitting at his desk, probably looking as worn out and exhausted as he feels. It’s early morning, and he hasn’t slept for two days. He’s been writing for hours, trying to find the right words to say. The sun had just set when he poured himself into the seat, and now—he glances to his left—the first tendrils of sunlight are peaking up.

The room is quiet, except for Finnick's labored breathing. His hands are shaking, a side effect of the stress that's been building inside him like a pressure cooker. Snow's visit has left him reeling, unable to process the implications of the deal he's been forced to make. He knows he must write you a letter, but the thought fills him with despondency. Something that normally fills him with insurmountable excitement and anticipation fills him with devastation. It feels like, like… There’s nothing he can compare it to. Not everything feels like something else and Finnick knows this kind of grief is very rarely experienced. 

What is he supposed to do? He hasn’t opened the last letter you sent, knowing it will be the last one that won’t carry the weight of mourning. He knows that you'll write to him again, that you won’t take this lying down. You’ll write and write, and he...will do nothing.

It sits in front of him, innocuous and unassuming. Something devastating folded in a green envelope and wrapped in your scent like a well-dressed bomb. Does his fear outweigh his longing for you?

He picks it up, holding it gingerly in his hands.

No, he realizes, it doesn’t.

He’s careful to tear the seal on the flap and your perfume wafts up like a surprise. He takes a deep breath, savoring the scent, trying to steel himself for what comes next.

Dear Finn,

I feel like I’ve missed you longer than I’ve had the chance to know you. It's been three months now, but maybe by the time this letter gets to you, we'll both be on our way to the Capitol. I'm working on being more optimistic, but that uphill battle is becoming steeper the longer I'm away from you. 

I keep thinking about when I first met you. When I looked into your eyes, I didn't see fireworks exploding or any of that other shit they depict in those gaudy Capitol romance novels. I looked into your eyes and saw you, something far more breathtaking than fireworks. And what a sight you were.

Three years back, you said something I never agreed with, that it was hard to love you. At the moment, I didn’t get to say what I really wanted to because I was eighteen and the thought of being so emotionally vulnerable made my teeth itch. 

I wanted to say that you aren't hard to love. I wanted to say loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. And that's why it was so difficult. I could never let myself love you—let myself have you because how could I possibly deserve to? But that’s the kicker. It’s not hard to love you, Finn, it’s impossible not to.

Something happened recently that made me realize that I’m not the most forthcoming person when it comes to my feelings. But, Finn, know that my love for you is never in doubt. How I feel about you may be complex, but it’s not complicated. I love you desperately, humanly, simply. Without even trying, you peel me back to my core, but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul. 

I miss you, more than I was prepared to—and I was prepared to miss you considerably.

We may not be next to each other, but we’re under the same sky, and each glowing point on that backdrop of black is a star—a sun at the center of someone’s solar system. 

In some other universe, on a different Earth, there’s a girl in love with a boy whose freckles run like constellations. On another, there’s a girl who’s in love with how her boy’s eyes squint when he smiles.

That's the one constant. There are billions of stars, billions of universes, and I love you in every one of them. 

Tears are blurring his vision before he can read how you close the letter and he has to sit back as the full weight of what he’s about to do hits him all at once. Your words are like a balm to his soul, but they burn him just as much as they soothe him. A reminder of what he’s losing just as much as a reminder of what he’s fighting for. There was never a need to put a label on what you two had, what you were to each other because it would never be replicated. It had always just been ‘yours’. Now, with a flick of his pen, it’ll be nothing.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe there’s a way I can explain why I’m doing this, some kind of code or something. Maybe I can still meet with her, just in secret. But Snow… It always comes back to Snow. 

Snow reads these letters, and surely he'll be more vigilant of Finnick to make sure he keeps his side of the deal. Besides, if you knew the real reason he’s doing this—that it’s against his will, that he wouldn’t even think to do this in his worst nightmare—you’ll latch on, consequences be damned. 

He’s doing this for you. He has to remind himself that it’s your life on the line here, not just his heart.

Still. 

He's careful when folding the letter back, only bending it along the preexisting lines. He sets it beside himself. 

He picks up a piece of paper from the stack in front of him tucked against the wall, twirling his pen along his fingers. His leg bounces, nails tapping on the desk. 

He writes something down and comes to a stuttering halt. It isn't good enough. He crumbles it up, throws it in the trash, and picks up a new one. 

Write, crumble, trash, repeat. 

He's stuck in a loop, unable to find the right words. The pressure is building, and he can feel himself starting to crack. He needs to get this done, needs to find a way to say goodbye.

Write, crumble, trash, repeat. 

He's lost track of time, doesn't know how long he's been sitting here. The words are eluding him, and he's starting to feel like he's lost his grip on reality.

Finally, he puts pen to paper and the words flow out of him like a dam breaking. He writes about his love for you, about how much he misses you, about how impossible it is to imagine a future without you. He writes about his fear and his grief, about the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He writes you goodbye. 

When he's done, he holds your letter carefully, tucking it back into its envelope. He knows what he has to do, knows that there's no turning back now. 

With trembling hands, he picks up the tan envelope and slides his letter inside. He seals it with a kiss, feeling the weight of his decision like a physical burden. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and places the letter on the stack in front of him. It's done. The words are written, the decision made. 

He sits back in his chair, feeling numb and hollow. He doesn't know what comes next, but he knows that he'll face it head-on. For you.

Past (xii) - You 

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

Finnick's reply came faster than you expected it to. 

You plop down in your office chair, giddy as you rub at your sore cheeks. You've been smiling like an idiot since you picked up the letter from the Mayor's office. You tear into the envelope and pause. 

The words are kind of smudged, dried drops of something smearing the ink. Luckily, you can still read it. 

My heart, 

My moon and stars. 

I must have rewritten these words at least a dozen times by now. You should see the pile of crumpled paper next to me. You'd call it wasteful, but I'm sure you'd be secretly charmed by how nervous you make me after all these years. 

There's no way to dance around it, and I know how much you hate when people mince their words.

It pains me to think it, let alone write it.

This will be my last letter to you. 

I know you have a hundred and one questions bouncing around that beautiful brain of yours, you'll want to know why. And the answer is, there is no why. I've decided that it's best, for both of us, to stop. Stop the letters, stop the meetings. 

It ends here. 

I don't want you to hate me. But if that makes it easier for you to stay away from me, then despise me. More than the Peacekeepers, more than the Capitol, more than Snow. Take that loathing and hold onto it like you used to hold me. 

But, selfishly, I want you to know what I'll be holding onto. 

Those little moments outside of time where you and I were the center of each other's universe, two stars orbiting each other. The balcony of my room, the floor of yours. 

I want you to know this because I don't want you to doubt that I love you. 

Because I do. I love you. I could say it a thousand times, and it still wouldn't be enough. I could say it until my tongue falls off and I'd find a way to sign it to you. 

I could live a thousand lifetimes, be a thousand different people, and I will never love someone like I love you. 

I think of your smile and I fall in love again. I think of your touch and I fall in love again. I won't leave you without you knowing this. I'd sooner stop breathing. 

There are plenty of things I should be thanking you for, but if I tried to make a list, I'd run out of paper. 

I felt...free with you. As free as anyone can be in our situation. I've never felt so close to another person before—I never let myself. 

I thought it would pass eventually, like a sand castle when it's high tide. Noticeable, beautiful, but temporary.

But I can tell you now, that was such bullshit. Since that first dance, there was never a moment I wasn’t in love with you. I loved you before I knew I was capable of it, before I knew I had it in me, and you had my heart before I even knew it was there. I saw the thorns of your past and held my hands out, ready to bleed if it meant I could touch you.

And that scared me. The very thing that gave me strength was my biggest weakness. That’s a hard pill to swallow at sixteen and it’s just as daunting at twenty-two. 

Years ago, you asked me if I could wish for anything, what would it be? I still wish I was a different person, someone you could be proud of. And I wish that person got to grow old with you. 

God, you don't know how badly I want to grow old with you.  

I have no doubt that there's a planet out there under a different sun where we end up together. Hand in hand with the two kids we always talked about. A little girl that'll have me wrapped around her finger because she'll look just like you. And a little boy that'll drive you up the wall because he's a little too much like me. That universe is where my heart lives.  

We'll find it someday, just you and me. Until then, they'll find our love written in the stars. In every constellation.  

-Yours until words lose meaning,  

Finnick O.  

You reread the letter.

Then reread it again. You keep rereading it until the words refuse to sit still, letters blurring together. 

It ends here? What’s he talking about? He can't possibly mean the two of you. He can't. 

But he’s ending it. He ended it.

Why would he—?

He said there’s no reason, but…but there has to be. 

You try to think of anything you did—anything you said that could have led to this but you're coming up blank. 

This doesn't make any sense. It doesn't line up with the Finnick you know. 

The letter says that he loves you, and you thought you knew he loved you, but it’s pretty hard to believe that when he’s leaving you.

He promised he'd stay with you, he promised, and Finnick doesn't break his promises. Not with you. No. Not after everything you've been through together. You only have each other. 

The paper falls from your trembling hands to the desk. 

No. You only have Finnick. But, Finnick—he doesn't want you anymore, right? So, where does that leave you? What else do you have? 

A grandfather clock ticks in the background, though it sounds muted to your ears. 

You look down at the paper and find wet spots, and ink more smeared than before. Your cheeks are wet. Are you crying?

Stupid. You grit your teeth, fury mixing with despair. Stupid tears. Stupid Finnick. You wipe at your cheeks roughly, angry at yourself for being weak enough to cry over him. There are a million and one reasons this could have happened and they all begin and end with you. You have no one to blame but yourself.

You know what it feels like for your body to break. You know what it is to be drained down to your skin, nerves, muscles, and bones. You've come eerily close to knowing what it's like to have your mind broken. 

But this is new. This is what it feels like to have your heart broken. It's sudden, and it rips you apart on its way in. Not an arrow, but a knife. Cold and serated. It's quicker than you thought it'd be, but it hurts just the same. 

You’re so cold. You don't think you've ever been this cold before. Not even when you were nine and you got such bad hyperthermia that you couldn’t work for the rest of the winter. He always ran hot, you think distantly. And all his warmth has left you. 

You hold on to yourself because no one else will. You would have preferred your body breaking. At least that heals. 

“I can’t,” you weep, stuttering over betrayal and loss, “I can’t do this alone.”

You press your forehead into the desk, your body shaking with the sobs you’re holding back. It hurts so bad. Pain sits rooted in your chest, sharp and rigid like a peach pit. Your heart doesn’t beat, it throbs. Throbs like a festering wound, irritated and infected. 

You pull at your shirt and dig your nails into your chest. If you press hard enough through the skin and fascia and muscles, you could pull out the problem.

But that’s impossible. There’s nothing there. It’s the absence that hurts, that gaping Finnick-shaped hole. 

Did you get ahead of yourself? Thinking anything could last with someone who shines as bright as him? Maybe…maybe if you were a little more like him, if you shined just as bright. 

You snort, anger flaring briefly. 

You’re not a star, you’re not even the moon. How can the sun love the same darkness it chases away?

He described the ocean to you once. Vast and endless, like it could go on forever. And he told you about all the people who get lost at sea. Now you’re one of them. 

You have capsized, water rushing up past your neck and into your mouth and nose, just as salty as your tears. Your lungs burn from the lack of air, you can’t breathe and no one will come for you because you're as good as dead.

Here you sit in your study in your home that isn’t really yours, far away from any ocean, but you're drowning anyway. 

You drown and you drown and you drown and you do it alone.

Present (X) - Finnick 

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL

It’s a last resort, a unanimous choice between them all. A wordless decision that the victors made to appeal to the Capitol citizens. Though they’re all using different means, it’s all for the same result. That’s what Finnick has to remind himself when he’s called on stage after Beetee. 

The crowd screams at his entrance and he locks his hands behind his back. He smiles, nodding to his adoring fans as he stands beside Caesar.

“Finnick, I understand you have a message for somebody out there. A special somebody.” The crowd hoots and hollers at the dramatics of it all and the idea of one of them being the special someone close to his heart. He chuckles and looks down. The Capitols being painfully predictable is finally paying off. All according to plan. “Can we hear it?”

He could spew some generic flowery shit that could apply to literally anyone he’s come in contact with, but…

He looks at the camera. Fourteen victors will perform before you, so you should still be in your dressing room. Are you watching? Watching him?

"My love, my star. My heart is yours. And…and if I had to pick a place to die, it would be in the warmth of your arms. Your smile, the last thing I see and your lips, the last thing I taste. Everything I have ever done, I have done for you.”

Caesar pouts at the audience as they coo at his love letter and he wishes they never heard it. He wishes he could have said it to you directly. Those words, they’re yours and they should have been for your ears only. And, yet, here he is, relaying his heart to you through a screen.

Look how far we’ve fallen, Star. 

“Oh, my. That’s very touching, Finnick. Isn’t it? I’m sure whoever it is, is listening and feeling truly loved.” 

“I hope you’re right, Caesar.”

They allowed Mags to opt out of her interview on account of her not being able to speak. How kind, he scoffs. He settles on the raised platform beside her and he briefly squeezes her hand. 

You okay? He mouths and she nods, smiling. 

One by one, each victor comes with their own approach to sway the masses. Oh, he knows there's no way they'll be canceling the games. Finnick is more likely to drain the ocean with a teaspoon before Snow even considers stopping this cruelty. But it’s worth a shot, he supposes. It can’t possibly make going into the arena any worse.

Besides Johanna's impassioned speech, nothing the other victors do stands out to him. Then, you're called out.  

He sinks his teeth into his lip as the audience applauds at your entrance.

From what he can recall, your outfit is a remix of the dress you wore in your first interview as if it has aged and matured with you. It’s gained a long train and the hip-high thigh slits that your stylist is known for.

You blow kisses to the crowd and they, understandably, go wild. You turn to Caesar with a smile and the overhead lights shine on you, painting your skin in soft lighting like a blanket. He takes a breath. And another, until he notices he’s breathing in sync with you.

He blinks when the crowd breaks into raucous laughter and realizes he’s missed something.

"Oh, we all know just how shy you are." Caesar smiles, holding his laugh behind clenched teeth in that way of his that reminds Finnick of an overachieving beaver. The crowd laughs with him and your cheeks must hurt from holding that coy smile. "Now, the last time we talked, you said you were composing a new piece." Caesar pulls a violin out from…somewhere behind him and presents it to you like a gift. Finnick doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he didn’t think you’d use the violin as your strategy. Mostly because of how much you hate it. Or maybe you don’t anymore. Perhaps you’ve grown to love it and he’s none the wiser. “Can you play it for us now?" The crowd clamors in ooohs and ahhhs at the idea. It's always been a privilege to hear you play. Finnick watches your face closely.

It wasn't your favorite thing to do, but you took to it like a fish to water. Usually, Snow would have you play at the more "personal" get-togethers. But every once in a while, you would compose a song for Finnick . And when it was just the two of you, you'd share it with him. He'd sit in front of you in awe as you played. He doesn't have a musical bone in his body, but he can hum every piece from memory. 

“You’re kinda putting me on the spot here, but, sure. I would love to play it for you all.” You laugh. You place the instrument under your chin and position your fingers and bow.

And you play.

It's not showy like the pieces you usually play for the public. Not grand or performative, but soft and soulful. Melancholy. It feels nostalgic almost, like something you would write for him. 

The haunting melody carries throughout the silent room, and it is as if everyone is breathing with the lilting notes. Everyone but Finnick, who can't seem to catch his breath. 

He looks down, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching as he fights back tears. Because as much as you may hate the instrument, you play it as if it's an extension of your body. And you've always been better at showing how you feel than saying it. 

It sounds like a goodbye. 

You come to a stop and Finnick's lungs stop constricting with your movements.

When you finish, it’s quiet before Caesar clears his throat and gives you a small smile that almost looks genuine.

“That was marvelous, my dear. Truly moving—wasn’t that moving?” He asks the audience, and Finnick will be surprised if there’s a dry eye in the crowd. Even their applause sounds sad. 

“Thank you, Caesar.” You nod at the praise. “You taught me so much—all of you. If I had known this would be the last time I got to play for you—” You trail off into a sob and the crowd coos. The words may be fake, but he isn’t too sure about the tears. He wonders if you think you won’t make it out of the arena alive—not that he would let that happen. If he could just talk to you, and have an actual conversation, he could know what you’re thinking.

Caesar pats your lower back and Finnick’s eyes narrow. “And you played beautifully.”

You hand the violin back with a watery smile and, fake or not, Finnick hates to see you cry. 

You’re met with a standing ovation as you climb to your place on the platform. With the way the victors are positioned, he stands directly behind you. Or, well, strictly speaking, he’s more diagonal than directly behind you. Still, how lucky is he? He could, theoretically, lean forward and catch a whiff of your perfume—

He gathers himself, straightening up and lacing his fingers behind his back. He squeezes the space between his thumb and forefinger.

Katniss spins and her wedding dress transforms in a flurry of fire before their eyes. 

“Again with the fire.” He mutters under his breath.

The crowd is in awe as she spreads her wings, but he isn’t so easily cowed. Though, he might not be the target audience. Finnick’s never been particularly fond of birds, even if they are mockingjays.

"You know Katniss and I, we've been luckier than most. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if it weren't…if—" Peeta stops himself, glancing around nervously.

"If it weren't for what? What?"

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Now, that catches his attention. Gasps echo throughout the room at Peeta’s revelation. Finnick’s eyebrows almost touch his hairline with how high they raise. Caesar tries to do damage control, but the situation is quickly escalating. 

“Call off the games!”

“This is cruel!”

He purses his lips around a growing smile, but he can’t hide it for long when the crowd starts shouting. That’s…certainly one way to get the audience riled up. He catches the slight smirk on Peeta’s face as he watches the commotion he caused and Finnick’s a little jealous. 

Chaos unfurls in a way he never thought the Capitols were capable of. They’ve always been so docile; sheep shepherded into any direction Snow lead them. But it makes sense. The romance act was meant to fool the Capitol and fool them, it has. He hides the vindictive glee he feels at the riot breaking out in the name of the victors, but only barely. He would kill to see Snow's face right now. 

How does it feel, he wonders, to see your people rebel in support of the savages you tried to paint us out to be?

He looks over, brows furrowed, as Mags takes his hand with a proud smile and he glances down in time to see you take Chaff’s hand. He pauses for a moment before taking the hand the woman from Five offers him. In sync, the victors all raise their hands in a show of solidarity. 

“Stop the games!”

“Call them off!”

Finnick grins big at the mayhem unfolding before him and they keep shouting long after the lights cut out.

Present (X) - You & Finnick

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL

“Star!”

It didn't take long for the tributes to be escorted off the platforms and as he chases after you, Finnick realizes that he vastly underestimated just how many people stood between you and him. He isn't sure if he's too far away for you to hear or if you’re actively ignoring him.

”Star!” Finnick pushes through the crowd of victors and stage crew to get closer. Chaff glances at him and now he knows for sure that you’re ignoring him.

“Stubborn.” He mutters as some of his fellow victors let him pass, glancing at him before continuing their conversations. But, as he’s said before, he’s just as stubborn as you. He racks his brain for something that’ll catch your attention before he loses what might be his last chance with you. “The message was for you! ”

You pause at the entrance of the elevator at Finnick's shout. You're so close to getting away, so close. Your escape is a hair's breadth and a footstep away, but you remember how you felt sitting in your dressing room watching Finnick's interview. Was there a pang of jealousy over the possibility of the message being for someone else? Honestly, it couldn't even be categorized as jealousy. 

You look over your shoulder and his lungs stop constricting. He’s got you. Now, for the hardest part: keeping you.

There are dozens of eyes on him, people milling around as if they aren’t honed in on whatever this is. He can’t blame them for being curious, he’s a little confused himself. He went into this with no plan, not that he would have been able to stick to one with how you’re looking at him.

“What?” As he approaches, the lingering crowd fully parts for him. You regard the gathering audience warily. 

“What I said, the message—it was for you.” He repeats. 

He can’t afford to be coy, that hasn't worked the last dozen times he's attempted a conversation with you and it definitely won't work now. He knows if he doesn’t catch you now, there won’t be any more chances.

Peeta dropped a baby bomb, and, somehow, this is the most dramatic thing to happen tonight. His eyes are locked intently on you, either unaware of all the attention he’s captured or just uncaring.

You look over to Chaff for help but he just smirks at your growing embarrassment. You watch in disbelief as he walks away using the excuse of finding Seeder to escape. 

“Finnick, this isn’t the time.” You glance between him and the floor, tracing the threading in his boots instead of the desperation in his eyes. 

"Can you please just,” he shifts his weight on his feet, "can you look at me, Star? Please, look at me." He lifts his hand like he aims to reach you, but hesitates. 

This situation is developing into something far more intimate than your current company should allow. More intimate than you should allow. You can always walk away, turn your back to him, and get on one of the idle elevators—let it end here, once and for all. The only thing stopping you would be the completely unfounded guilt and regret. 

You don't owe him anything, let alone your time. 

And, yet. Yet, yet, yet.

Maybe you can get some sort of closure and set clear boundaries before you go into the arena and—that reasoning sounds weak even to you.

Both of you could die tomorrow and truthfully, you don't want to walk away from him; you've never wanted to.

Besides, it's not like he can hurt you any worse than he already has. 

Finnick jolts when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, a sensation he should be accustomed to but has grown foreign. 

You pull him away from eavesdropping ears, but not from nosey eyes. With how front and center Finnick has made this, you feel like a spectacle, but when haven't you?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You question him in a harsh whisper. “I don’t know what this is or what you think this is, but it is not the place for it. What if this gets back to Snow—”

“I don’t care.”

“—There’s already so much…what?”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, and for once, he’s not lying. “I don’t care if they hear us, or—or if this gets back to Snow.”

Your jaw shifts as you narrow your eyes up at him and there’s that anger he’s been expecting.

“Please, Star. Just…just let me speak.” He begs. Your face goes blank, a mask slotting into place like a lock with a key that Finnick has long since lost the right to. He blocks out the chatter around him. 

“Not here.” He thinks he’s being rejected for a moment until you grab his wrist and drag him behind you. The elevators are filling in droves and you just so happen to pick the one housing some of the last people he wants to witness this. 

Haymitch takes one look at your faces and the grip you have on his wrist and raises his hands in defense. 

Haymitch turns to Katniss and Peeta. “Nuh-uh, believe me. You do not wanna be locked in here with them.” He shakes his head and steps out without a backwardsqasz glance and you contemplate going with him. “I’ll meet you guys up there.”

Johanna steps on in his place, elevator doors closing behind her. She looks between the four of you and whistles. Finnick sighs.

“There’s the happy couple.” You glance at Peeta and Katniss because she certainly isn’t talking about the two of you. “You caused quite the stir out there. Why didn’t you tell us you were expecting? We could have thrown you a baby shower.” You sigh through your nose. You don’t even have it in you to intervene in this conversation.

“What the hell is a baby shower—”

“We didn’t know how everyone would take it.” Peeta cuts Katniss off. “We’re already the newest victors. The baby might’ve painted an even bigger target on our backs.” He says without stuttering once.

“That’s a fantastic answer, Peeta.” Johanna crows sarcastically. “Did Haymitch prep you on that one or did you come up with it on your own?”

“No. No, it’s all me.” He assures with a downward smile. It certainly is all him. He’s the mastermind behind all of this, right? Ironically enough, Finnick doubts Katniss had any real part in making this ‘baby scandal’.

Finnick opens his mouth to make a quip but thinks better of it. You’re already aggravated at his presence and he honestly doesn’t want to remind you that he’s here. His only consolation is that you’re still holding his wrist, all five pads of your fingers are searing points on his skin.

Peeta gives you an imploring look, eyebrows raised as if to ask if you’re alright and you nod and—when did that happen?

It’s quiet, with no other sound than the nearly inaudible woosh of the elevator going between floors. No one makes an effort to break the steadily growing awkward silence. Finnick does, however, make the mistake of making eye contact with Johanna. She mouths you’re dead at him over your head and, yeah, that definitely fills him with much-needed confidence. 

Present (X) - Finnick

[21 & 22] -  THE CAPITOL; TRAINING CENTER; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“Alright. You wanted to speak.” Your dress flutters around your legs as you settle into a big green chair. That same giant green chair you sat in three years prior. You’ve both grown considerably since then. Just in two completely different directions. What a juxtaposition. “Speak.” 

He stays where he’s standing a couple of feet away. He probably should have figured out what to do on the elevator ride, but, again, he’s without a plan. “Did you hear my message? When I was up there with Caesar? I know you were still getting ready—did you hear it?”

“I might’ve.” You shrug and cross your arms, still so stubborn. “Great strategy by the way. I’m sure you’ll reel in plenty of sponsors.”

“God, Star, it wasn’t for them. It wasn’t even for the fucking movement.” You raise a brow at his words but give no further outward reaction. He moves to stand before you, each step more unsure than the last. Your glare is scorching, but there’s been enough space between the two of you to house the sun. “Do you remember when you said my poetry was a gift? And—and that I shouldn’t waste it on them? You said you would never be tired of anything I do. Do you remember that night? What I said?” He implores. It was a special night full of promises and you gave him more than he deserved.

You look him over with a critical eye long enough that he’s sure you’re not going to answer. Especially when you turn to stare off to the side before sighing out of your nose.

“My heart, who am I to deprive you of what's yours by right? The air in my lungs, I breathe for you. The blood in my veins pumps for you. A leaf can’t stop itself from falling and neither could I. Everything I do, I do for you.” It only takes him half a second to recognize the lines and he’s stunned, transported back to that garden under the stars. “I remember all of them… I remember everything you’ve made for me.” You give him fleeting peripheral glances and avoid his gaze like you’re ashamed of that. 

He nods, frantic and eager. He’s making headway. He honestly didn’t think you’d let him get this far. Your eyes widen when he drops down onto his knees before you smooth your face into a blank mask. “They’re all yours. And they’ll keep being yours even if you still hate me when I leave this room. Everything I’ve written since I met you has been for you.’’ He confesses, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair, but is it really a confession? The Capitols love his poetry because they adore the idea of Finnick Odair being devoted to them, longing for them and, for that, you’ve always been his muse. 

You stare down at him, giving no indication that anything he’s said has swayed you. He grits his teeth through the sting of rejection and sighs, arms falling to his sides.

“I can’t tell you how sorry—”

“Why now?” You cut him off. “It’s been two years. You don’t owe me anything, Finnick, so if this a guilt thing—”

“I–It’s not. I mean, it is, but it’s not…it’s not why I’m here.” He sits back on his haunches, running a hand through his hair. “We could die tomorrow. And I don’t want you going into that arena thinking that I don’t love you or…or that I wanted to leave you.”

You squint at him, face twisting into a sour scowl.

“You said,” you drawl, slow and drawn out like you’re explaining something fundamental to a child, “you thought it was best if we ended it.”

He shakes his head. “I lied. I had to and I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I know saying sorry won’t be enough, but please know sending that letter was the last thing I wanted to do. Leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“What? What are you talking about? You said—”

He holds his hands up, stopping your completely warranted stream of questions.

“I know. I know what I said and I never would have said it if Snow hadn’t shown up at my house—”

“Snow showed up at your house?” Your arms unfold and you lean forward so suddenly that he almost flinches back. “When?” 

“Uh, a few weeks before I sent the letter. He’s the only reason I even sent it.” He scoffs, remembering the state he was left in after Snow offered the ultimatum. He doesn’t need to try to remember the words written in the letter he sent you because he’s never forgotten. They’re tattooed on the back of his eyelids, seared into his memory every time he blinks.

“What did he want? What did he say to make you…” He watches you try to articulate your confusion. What led to this? What could have possibly been worth giving you up? 

“Snow, he was convinced that our relationship would somehow lead to—to civil unrest. His solution was to get rid of one of us, get rid of you. I couldn’t let that happen. He never explicitly said it, but you know how he is, how he speaks …I was scared. I was. I didn’t—” His voice cracks and you stare down at him with stunned, wide eyes. He wants to shuffle closer. He wants to sway into you and take some kind of comfort. But he doesn’t. “I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t just tell you because you would have tried to find some kind of loophole and we couldn’t afford to make him more hostile than he already was.”

You look to your left out of the wall-length windows and smirk, completely throwing Finnick off. 

"Star?"

You stand. He watches as you pace the length of the room before turning on your heel and walking onto the balcony. He can do nothing more than follow you. 

“He came to my house too, you know. Around the same time, I think. He wanted to remind me about how privileged I am.” You snort and that sick feeling is developing in his stomach, organs twisting to make room for the settling dread. He isn’t sure what he thought you’d do in light of the revelation, what he expected you to say, but it’s not this. “Went on and on about how thankful I should be that he was allowing us to be in a relationship and…and that as long as I kept myself in line, I could keep you.” You sigh, propping your elbows on the railing and placing your face in your hands.

He doesn’t know what to do. Speechless doesn’t even cover it. His anger is there, and he doesn’t see that ever leaving him...but he’s been angry for so long and tired for even longer.

“We played right into his hand, Finnick. He gained something from this, bastard that he is.” You scoff. You turn and sit with your back against the glass railing. "That's all that matters to him."

Finnick stews on it and many things are starting to make sense. In the months leading up to the event, the two of you started seeing each other less and less—long stretches of time where all he had was your perfume and words to keep him company. And considering Snow was the only way either of you were allowed to come to the Capitol… Of course. It all seems so fucking obvious now.

"I should have known better. Snow was never gonna kill you, he's too fucking—dammit.” He stops and shakes his head. So much lost time, so much pain. All unnecessary in the end.

“Come sit down, Finn.”

Finn. 

He hasn't been called that in a long time. He takes a second to stare unseeingly at the stars before sliding down beside you.

It's quiet. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if there's anything he should say, and he's sure you feel the same. But he does know if it was up to you, you'd both sit in silence for the foreseeable future and he has two years' worth of confessions to make. 

“The mo—” he stops, overwhelmed by how much he wants to say, but nothing feels good enough, “I loved you the moment you laughed at my stupid joke the first time we danced together and I have loved you ever since. Even when I wasn’t there to show you, even when I—I left you. I’ve loved you the entire way, Star. There are billions of suns out there, billions of universes, and I love you in every one.”

Your head whips up.

“I remember everything you’ve made for me too.” Your mouth twists, brows furrowing as you stare at him and he can’t express how good it feels to be seen.

"I don’t hate you.” You shrug a shoulder, smiling small and quick. “You said ‘even if you still hate me’, I don’t hate you.”

“...You don’t?” 

“I tried to. For a while, I thought I did." He shouldn’t be surprised by that. He shouldn’t be hurt by something he explicitly told you to do in his letter. Finnick shouldn’t be a lot of things that he is. ���But I just…couldn’t." You grimace "I didn’t even want to, after a while. I was just tired.”

His head thumps against the railing. He closes his eyes. There's a question on his tongue, an answer he shouldn't need but wants regardless. 

“Is that why you stopped sending letters?” When he opens his eyes again, he’s relieved that you’re still facing him.

Your face twists like you’ve tasted something sour, something rotten. “I just…I was fine waiting for you, Finnick. It was hard, but it didn’t hurt. Not too bad, at least. I would’ve waited a thousand years because it would have been worth it to hold you for a second. And I could get through that because I knew you were waiting for me too. But, I realized you were never coming. And, eventually, I realized…you weren’t waiting either." You whisper, wrapping your arms around your legs as you pull your knees up. He stiffens, freezing in place as he tries to slow his heartbeat. 

He drops his head, brows furrowed as he tries, and fails, to stop tears from forming. It's just, it's cruel. The one thing he promised himself he'd never do—leave you, hurt you—he had to do for you. 

He wipes his face, pressing the base of his palms into his eyes. 

"Star, I…I would never…It killed me to write that letter, you have to know that, right? Right ?" He implores, voice rough while his breath hitches repeatedly. His throat feels tight and swollen as he stutters over the words in his chest. The words you have to hear, the words he needs you to hear. You stare forward, refusing to look at him anymore and he turns to face you full-on, refusing to look at anything but you. "How can I let you know that? What can I do—to prove—that I'm sorry?"

He thought you both had changed too much to be fluent in what you two used to have. He thought it was a different language, but here, up close, he can see that it’s not so much a new language as it is a cipher. You just had to let him get close enough to understand again. He always thought you had such an open face, it was a wonder to him how you could lie so eloquently when you could never lie to him. But it wasn’t until he was shut out that he realized you were letting him read you, subconsciously or otherwise. He reads you now, eyes tracing your face eagerly—hungrily, and finds…remorse?

"I know you’re sorry. I know. And logically, knowing the truth should make it easier to get over it.” Your mouth opens and closes, hesitating. “But you left me." He nods hard enough to hurt his neck. "I did." And he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry. He doesn't think there's enough air on the planet for him to tell you just how sorry he is. "You left me, Finnick. I know it isn’t rational to feel this way knowing you didn’t want to, but…” You lick your lips, resting your cheek on your knee. When you look up at him, actually look at him and not somewhere over his shoulder, the glossy state of your eyes has him digging his nails into his hands to ground himself. "It’s just��it’s a real challenge to separate you from that hurt." I’d take that hurt from you if I could, he thinks. I’d grit my teeth through the pain and wear it proudly if it meant you’d have a moment of relief. He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry, Star." Because, really, what else is there to say? There’s no way to describe everything he’s sorry for.

"...I'm sorry too." You say and he wants to tell you there’s nothing to apologize to him about, but you lock your pinky with his and it’s enough to make his throat tighten, and all he can manage is a wistful sigh at the feeling of coming home.

Far below you, the sound of the city is dampened by the distance but no less heard. He goes to speak but spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. It’s your ankle. Or specifically, what’s on your ankle.

“You wore it?” He asks, touching the fraternal twin of his own bracelet. He appraises what he thought was lost reverently. Tracing the grooves of the shells, the divets in the charms, the rough twine of the rope—it all feels like a live wire under his fingers.

“I never took it off.” You slip your heel off, loosening the straps of the bracelet and wiggling it down your foot. “I just thought it might be a little sad to parade it around when you didn’t want me.”

“There will never be a moment on this Earth of me not wanting you, not while I still have air in my lungs. Not even after.” 

“And how’ll you manage that?” You ask, your eyes crinkling in that old mirth you used to wear around him like a beauty mark.

“For you? I’ll find a way.” He promises.

You hum, appraising the jewelry briefly before passing it to him. He smiles when you lift your hand, silently prompting him. He places the bracelet on you, tightening it on your wrist. It feels like muscle memory when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on the center shell.

The corner of your mouth twitches up and you nod. “Okay.”

He leans in, placing a hand on the base of your neck and pulling you towards him and he’s still in awe that you actually let him. He holds the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his slender waist. 

"I'm not asking for forgiveness, it wouldn’t be fair.” He murmurs into the crown of your hair. “But after we do this, I want the chance to make it up to you." If you'll let him, he'll spend the rest of his life mending what he tore apart.

“I think…I’d like that.” You speak into his chest and he feels your voice more than he hears it. “It was for you too.”

“What was?”

“The song I played onstage. I wrote it after it all happened. I couldn’t touch the violin without thinking of you, Finn. You were the only person I ever wanted to play for.” You whisper and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Finnick’s taken by the sudden need to look in your eyes more than anything, to see and know you and be seen and known in return. He pulls back enough to look down at you.

“Star.” He begs you beseechingly, and there’s no hesitation when you look up at him. He grins. It feels like it’s been years. “There you are.”

You smile. It's small and heavier than he remembers, but it's there and he is as whole as he will ever be.

A/N: IMAGINE POURING YOUR HEART OUT AND EXPRESSING HEARTFELT INTIMACY TO THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE JUST TO GET DUMPED yeesh. fun fact: "...but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul." I actually texted this to my beta reader about Finn from Adventure Time after seeing an edit bc I love him so much, but then I converted it into Finnick love. also, Finnick's letter was one of the first things I wrote for this story months ago. That balcony talk was inspired by Hozier's Unknown/Nth WE IN THE ARENA NEXT CHAPPY

[moutheyes]

[translation] Allure Korea - Love in the Big City Interviews

Hello, for fun/practice I decided to translate the Allure Korea interviews with Nam Yoon-su, Kwon Hyuk, Na Hyun-woo, and Jin Ho-eun, who are starring in the upcoming TV adaptation of Love in the Big City. I saw bits and pieces floating around social media but hadn't seen a full translation anywhere. I've been learning Korean for a long time but still honing my translation skills, so any awkward parts or mistakes are mine. If there's anything egregiously wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it with a note!

LOVE NEVER SLEEPS / Love in the Big City: Nam Yoon-su & Kwon Hyuk, Na Hyun-woo & Jin Ho-eun

In Love in the Big City, Nam Yoon-su, Kwon Hyuk, Na Hyun-woo, and Jin Ho-eun fall in and out of love intensely, just like everyone else in the world. In Seoul, a city that never sleeps, love never disappears.

Park Sang-young’s Love in the Big City, a queer literary bestseller, will find new audiences in two separate adaptations this year. One of them is a currently airing movie, and the other is a drama about to premiere. The movie focuses on a character named Jae-hee from the original novel, while the drama depicts the first half of the novel, and Park Sang-young himself participated in writing the script. 

“I tried to keep the emotions of the original story as they were,” he said. “I also put a lot of effort into reproducing the rawness of queer life in a big city, and aimed to bring out various detailed feelings in order to let viewers connect emotionally with each chapter.” As he explained, the protagonist Go Young is “a person whose natural brightness masks the sadness in his life. He is a scientist who studies everything about love, embraces the inexperience of life, and eventually turns it into something beautiful.”

This role is played by Nam Yoon-su, and the drama will be a total of eight episodes, with two each directed by renowned directors who have appeared in various film festivals: Hur Jin-ho, Hong Ji-young, Son Tae-gyeom, and Kim Se-in. The actors (T/N: except for Nam Yoon-su) all said that they met for the first time at the photoshoot. There’s never been a drama like this before in Korea, but it’s a drama that must exist. Borrowing them for a time, Allure Korea met the four actors who loved each other passionately.

NAM YOON-SU

I have to ask how you’re doing. As soon as filming ended on the drama, you donated a kidney to a family member and became an ambassador for the Life-Sharing Campaign. No one knew about this?

I lost some weight but I’ve been healthy. I really didn’t know it would receive that much attention.

Seeing as how the episodes were filmed two at a time, aside from Yoon-su, the other actors are all meeting for the first time here?

Correct. That’s why the atmosphere is a little awkward? (laughs) Everyone’s introducing themselves and asking each other’s ages. Kwon Hyuk and Na Hyun-woo hyungs, I dated for a month each, and I dated Ho-eun for around three months?

Haha, so that’s how all of Nam Yoon-su’s men met. Or should I say, Go Young’s men?

“Nam Yoon-su’s men” works. (laughs) That’s accurate. I’ve done everything with them.

How did you get involved with Love in the Big City?

For me, it wasn’t a difficult decision, nor was it a difficult show. I’ve had queer friends since I was young, so I’ve always been open-minded. I could do everything the script and the director demanded of me. I thought of Go Young as a very ordinary person. He eats, sleeps, and loves like anyone else. The fascinating thing was, I received a ton of DMs after the casting was announced. They were thanking me. It was really amazing.

Haha, these are DMs you wouldn’t have received for any other dramas up until now.

People from different countries thanked me for taking part in this drama. Of course I also received hate, but there were way more thankful messages. They were even fighting in the comments. I just stayed out of it.

Park Sang-woo said, “Nam Yoon-su was destined for the role. I had a strong premonition that this person would become Go Young.”

Is that true? Thank you. (laughs)

It was a comment prepared especially for today. (laughs) But hearing that, I think the drama will remain faithful to the novel. It seems like Go Young experienced a lot of love in a compressed amount of time.

It’s because he was looking for love, isn’t it? I read the novel and thought it would make for a fun drama. I really thought hard about how I could express the story.

Didn’t the main character go through some changes? In the novel Young is described as a “fat cat,” so his nickname is “Fatty Catty” (뚱고).

Hehe, that’s correct. You have a good memory. Compared to the character in the book, I’m taller and skinnier, so in the drama “Fatty Catty” becomes a “chubby kitty.”

You’re the only one who worked with all four directors. How different were their directing styles?

Not just their filming techniques, but the crew and staff were also completely different. It felt like a fresh start every time. Directors Hur Jin-ho and Kim Se-in love to do long takes, but even those were different. Director Hong Ji-young said from the beginning, “I only film one or two takes, but there are a lot of cuts.” And director Son Tae-gyeom likes to film dialogue in a natural way. He kept only saying that it was good, so I got confused. Their styles are naturally different, so I’m also curious how the final product will turn out. I haven’t seen the final cut yet. Can I see it already?

Continuously switching between directors, what was that experience like as an actor?

I was able to learn a lot, actually. I would get used to one director’s methods, and then switching to another one would be a challenge. I would be in the middle of a scene, then get flustered and stop. It felt like a sudden change in the environment and atmosphere. We actually only had about a month to get to know each other. But as soon as we got close, it was already time to part ways, so that was sad. I think the audience will feel those directorial changes as well. That’s how different it is.

Everyone’s curious about this drama. Love in the City is described as “the story of a very ordinary queer person.” The emotion of love doesn’t change according to sexual orientation, but it can still be seen as unconventional.

It’s the same old love story. We live our lives, and the only difference is sexual orientation. I hope people see it for what it is. It’s not a surprise or a special realization that Go Young is gay, this is just his daily life. But the fact that the show is only available on streaming platforms means Korean society still thinks of it that way. I don’t know what the final cut will be like, but there are some spicy scenes, so it’s probably difficult for non-cable TV.

Korea has never seen a drama like this before?

Up until now, Korea has not had a drama like this. People ask me if doing this show will have a negative impact on me, but that’s the way I am. I’ve never thought about it, and I won’t in the future. I don’t want to act while only considering my image. I think that’s what being an actor is about.

So what is your mindset when acting?

It’s about what I want to do, and what I want is to make good shows and movies.

Just going where your heart leads? That’s simple and good.

That’s how I’ve lived my life, both as a model and when I went into acting. I just accept everything and consider whether I like or dislike it. I have a simple approach to work. I want it to be like that in the future as well. This drama, too, I just had fun while filming it.

What are you really like in a relationship?

Nothing special. Like Go Young, I just meet up and have a meal with them. I don’t date that often? (laughs) When I’m working, it’s hard to stay in contact. My relationships don’t tend to last that long. I’m quick to warm but also quick to cool. Honestly, that’s my dating style.

So you’re a bad boy, then.

I’m nice at heart. (laughs) I do everything I can for the other person. But I don’t think I’m good at dating. Hyun-woo hyung just asked me when I’m going to read his KakaoTalk messages... (laughs)

Seoul itself is another main character in Love in the Big City. Did you get to go around the city a lot?

Actually, we filmed in a lot of places. We also went to the club from the novel and filmed there. It’s a real gay club, and I heard it was the first time they allowed any filming there. They said the director went to get special permission. We put out a casting call for extras for the club scenes, and they also came and helped out.

Is there a neighborhood that represents Seoul to you?

I’m from Namyangju, and the first time I lived alone was in Wangsimni. Cheonggyecheon. I’ll never live in Apgujeong. There are a lot of bars there, which I don’t really like. After Cheonggyecheon, I lived in Dowon-dong, then Yongsan, and also Mapo-gu. I’ve lived in a lot of places, so I’ll go somewhere else next.

What kind of neighborhood do you have to live in?

Pyeongchang-dong. I’ll move there next. A place with monthly rent.

Do you enjoy living in a big city like Seoul?

There are so many people in Seoul. In some ways, there’s too many. It’s too crowded. I don’t like that part.*

If there’s no one you love among all those people, then being an urbanite can be lonely.

That’s right. So I don’t go out. Even now, I just go to the mountains. I go with my camping chair on my shoulder, eat a lunchbox by myself, and then I go back down the mountain.

You get that same kind of feeling from the drama poster—being alone in a sea of people.

That’s a real scene from the drama. There was one scene in a club in Thailand, and another one where I’m waiting for Ho-eun.

What kind of love did you experience with the three men gathered here today?

In the first two episodes, Nam-gyu and I were dating when we were students. I liked him for a while, and when I didn’t like him anymore we broke up, something like that. As for Young-su in episodes 3 and 4, when you’re young, you like older people, right? Even though you regret it later. And in episodes 5 and 6, I’m dating Gyu-ho, who’s like a friend.

Why do you think these men loved Go Young?

I came on strong. (laughs) I was the one who kissed them first and I was also the one who approached them first. How do I seduce this person? That’s what I’m thinking about.

In episode 8, do you regret getting with Habibi? As in, you should have stayed with Gyu-ho.

I do regret it. I was heartsick but didn’t show it. I had no choice but to let him go.

Even though you were acting, were there any moments when you got carried away by the emotions? In today’s interview, everyone slipped into their characters while answering. It’s interesting.

That’s how I do everything, every time. I really do get emotional in crying scenes. The other hyungs and Ho-eun are also like that. We feel everything.

It was nice to see you today, after a long time. And all the men you used to love.

That suddenly reminds me. (laughs) I did it this way and I did it that way.

How will this drama be remembered?

I don’t know if I can say this, but I don’t think there will ever be another drama like this in Korea. There wasn’t before, and there won’t be after. So I hope everyone watches it.

*T/N: this was a little hard to translate directly so I went with the general tone, but his wording was interesting to me. The word he used in the first sentence was 사람, which is a neutral word for “person/people.” In the next sentence he used 인간, which means people in a greater humanity sense. The word he used for “crowded” was 몰리다, which can also be translated as “driven,” as in herding or steering, which to me further emphasized the dehumanizing aspect of Seoul being a big city swamped with people.

KWON HYUK

Love in the Big City starts with Nam-gyu’s story, but he’s hardly mentioned in the novel. He’s the closest thing to an original character in the drama. What kind of person is he?

Nam-gyu is shrouded in mystery. (laughs) On the outside he looks well-behaved and could even be considered rigid, so he could be frustrating. On the inside he’s a person who carries a fiery sort of love. When he dates someone like Go Young, he’s incapable of hiding his true self and conveys his feelings.

If that’s the case, why did they break up?

He’s super frustrating and inflexible. When acting as Nam-gyu, I felt that Go Young’s vibe was from the current generation, like someone who’s an MZ. But although Nam-gyu works as a photographer, he really has an ahjussi’s tastes. Go Young goes to clubs and is the carefree type, but this guy drives at 60km per hour (T/N: 37 mph). I think Go Young would have found him frustrating.

We asked Park Sang-young about each character, and he said this about Nam-gyu: He’s a guy who is inexperienced in love and can’t differentiate between love and obsession.

If there are experienced and inexperienced sides to dating, he’s definitely on the inexperienced side. I think everyone has gone through an immature phase when they were obsessed with someone, and even though they should have seen and accepted that person for who they are, they kept forcing themselves to see only the good things. I could have been like that once, too.

How did you get involved with Love in the Big City?

Director Son Tae-gyeom, who filmed the first two episodes, contacted me. I liked his film Baby and Me (2017), but we didn’t know each other personally so it was a little surprising.

So a director you admired suddenly contacted you one day?

That’s right. He said he wanted to suggest the character of Nam-gyu to me. He said he’s seen almost all of my work and could already picture me as Nam-gyu. He laid everything out very clearly. It’s this kind of drama, and the production will go in this direction. He spoke with so much conviction, I thought I should trust him and give it a try.

Is that how you got your hands on the script?

It’s really fun, and there are kissing scenes, but I don’t find that difficult or burdensome. Can I play this role well? That was the assignment. Nam-gyu and I are really different. I wanted to know what the director saw in me that made him think I could portray this character well.

You’ve never been directly asked like this before?

I think so. No one’s ever asked me about that. (laughs) It’s so different, will the viewers be able to enjoy watching my character? I thought about that a lot. I also talked a lot with the director. This was a very indistinct character in the novel, so there were a lot of blanks we had to fill in. The director accepted my interpretation of the character. Nam-gyu has a unique way of speaking. He uses unusual words. Things like “that was splendid.”** Usually you’d say something was good or great, but he uses “splendid.” People don’t say that often.

What kind of director is Son Tae-gyeom?

He’s a really warm person. I had so much fun and was so happy on set. He let the actors try out a lot of stuff they wanted to do, and from the standpoint of trying to inhabit a character, I was really grateful for that.

What kind of opinions did you give?

Something that comes to mind right now is, normally if you’re introducing yourself, you’d say, “Hello, my name is Kim Nam-gyu,” right? But the Nam-gyu in my head would say, “I’m Kim. Nam-gyu.”

So that’s how you became Nam-gyu. Why was he attracted to Go Young?

I think, as with all love, It has to begin with attraction. Wasn’t I attracted to him because he was so different from me and had something I didn’t have? I thought about that while acting, but Yoon-su and I are very different as well. (laughs) I think he really is a lot like Young.

If you had to defend Nam-gyu?

I think it’s love. At first the viewers might think, “Why is this person like this?,” but if you consider Nam-gyu’s point of view from start to finish, you’ll feel sympathy for him. “Oh, of course that’s possible. It could be like that if you really like someone.” If you like someone a lot, it’s possible to act like you’re somewhere in between love and obsession.

Speaking of Go Young, he said he seduced Nam-gyu, Young-su, and Gyu-ho.

Is that what he said? He was young then so he didn’t know anything. (laughs)

Then did Nam-gyu seduce him?

Of course. Nam-gyu takes photos, and he met Go Young for the first time at a clothing photoshoot. Although it was his first time doing it, there was something in his eyes. There was a certain energy about his photos, and that’s how it started.

After breaking up with Go Young, does Nam-gyu think about him?

I think he was too into him. Because Go Young made him frustrated with himself, he went too fast. He tried to change himself, so doesn’t that mean he still likes Go Young a lot?

How was your chemistry with Yoon-su?

I felt that Yoon-su is a lot like Go Young, both on and off set. I wondered if he was always like that or if he was just acting like Go Young in his daily life for the sake of the drama, but he was always like that. (laughs) So I enjoyed it and it was always fun.

Seoul itself is another main character in Love in the Big City. Did you get to go around the city a lot?

We shot a lot in Itaewon and went around to various other places. We also went to Namsan and Jongno, and filmed while going around Seoul.

Is there a neighborhood that represents Seoul to you?

I’ve always liked Namsan Tower. Whenever I see it, I want to go up and look out at the city. So I went there a lot, and earlier this year I moved to a place where I could see Namsan Tower. I also like Yongsan. It’s the very center of Seoul.

Love is something all these characters yearn and work for. Is there a line that expresses Nam-gyu’s love?

I can think of two. One of them is in the narration, I think. “If obsession isn’t a form of love, then I’ve never been in love before.” The other one is, “Eat this, it’s really delicious,” and it’s when he gives Go Young something he really likes, but Go Young said he doesn’t like it. I think these two lines represent Nam-gyu really well.

What are you really like in a relationship?

I never touch the other person. I’m the kind of person who lets things be and tries to like them for who they are, without trying to change them. It’s my dream to get married someday.

What does it take to live romantically in this big city?

Love, of course. You have to live while loving someone to your heart’s content. We only have one life, so I think it would be nice to love someone sincerely.

How will this drama be remembered?

You’ll have to watch it to find out. For starters, we were really cold, since we filmed in December.

I guess Nam-gyu’s love was cold.

When we filmed at the top of Namsan Tower, it was so cold that I thought, “This is really how you lose weight.” It was 20 degrees (Celsius) below freezing. I couldn’t move my face, but I still made a lot of fun and happy memories. I don’t know how the world will remember this drama but I think it’ll be a really happy memory in my life. Also, infinite thanks to everyone who was determined and supported this drama... wasn’t it a challenge for everyone? An awesome challenge.

**T/N: The Korean word he uses here is 훌륭하다, which can also be translated as superb, marvelous, grand, etc. You get the idea. I’m curious how the subtitlers will handle Nam-gyu’s word choices!

NA HYUN-WOO

You play Young-su in episodes 3 and 4, which are directed by Hur Jin-ho.

That’s right. I’m that Young-su.

It must have been a difficult role. He’s hard to like in the novel.

Every time we filmed that kind of scene, the director, director of photography, and lighting director would all say, “what a bastard.” But it would have been impossible to play Young-su if I thought of him as unpleasant, so I tried my best to understand the role.

Park Sang-young describes Young-su as “someone who can’t accept himself, and even makes the people who love him feel lonely.” How did you approach the role?

I only thought about wanting to play him well. He has a lot of self-loathing. Of course he’s going to find love someday. Wouldn’t he be a better person due to his relationship with Go Young? I hope so. I think there must have also been moments when Go Young was clearly Young-su-like. And I also wonder whether Young-su will date another Young-su at some point.

You’re saying it’s a universal thing that can happen to people who are in love?

I think everyone inevitably has their Go Young moments as well as their Young-su moments. If that’s the case, wouldn’t Young-su also one day become Go Young-like?

How did you end up working on this drama?

I previously worked with director Hur Jin-ho on the show Lost (2021). We don’t keep in touch, but he suddenly contacted me and gave me the script. First of all, the fact that he called me himself was a big reason, and secondly, I was waiting for a drama like this. When I saw the script I knew I really wanted to do it. At the time, it was hard to see Young-su’s bad side. I just really wanted to do it, and thought I could play Young-su well, so I appealed really hard to the PD and ended up joining the cast.

What was the hardest part about playing Young-su?

In the novel he’s 38, and in the show he’s 35. That’s a little older than I am. Young-su was part of a student activist group at a prestigious university, but my generation doesn’t have that experience, so I had to do a lot of research. I’ve never met the author, but there was something about this character that was so hard to understand that I really wanted to meet him.

What part was the hardest to understand?

Why did he go back on his decision like that? What’s wrong with him? I wanted to find the author and ask him, but because I never got the chance, I just thought a lot about it and tried to figure out the reason. It must have been because he couldn’t accept himself. So no matter how unlikable Young-su is, I still feel sympathy for him. Dating Go Young was the most cowardly thing he did, and I think it was also the most painful for himself.

How was your chemistry with Yoon-su?

There wasn’t a lot of time before we started filming, but we did spend two weeks preparing for it. We became really close during that time. I’d never done such deep table reading on a drama before.

Go Young bragged that he came onto Young-su first.

He came onto Young-su? Wasn’t it more like fifty-fifty? Young-su already liked Go Young subconsciously. And wasn’t he like that because Go Young also reciprocated? Among ourselves, we described Young-su as “a man who is only nice at home.” Wouldn’t he have always made this choice?

Did you film at Olympic Park, where a certain incident between Go Young and Young-su took place?

We did. That was the first thing we filmed. It wasn’t easy. We’d just met and had to film a scene where I got mad at Go Young. And that evening there was another important scene to film as well.

Is there a neighborhood that represents Seoul to you?

We have the most fun during our college years, right? I graduated from Sejong University, so the entrance of Konkuk University and Hwayang-dong feel like Seoul to me.

What are you really like in a relationship?

When I was young, love was really romantic. Back then, I didn’t know myself, and aside from the other person I didn’t look at or date anyone else. Now that I’m older, I think it’s okay not to date. That’s the reality.

What was it like working with director Hur Jin-ho on Young-su’s episodes?

He likes suddenly coming up with ideas. He’ll abruptly remove or add new dialogue, or introduce scenes that weren’t originally in the script. You know that really long street in Itaewon? He suddenly wanted Go Young and Young-su to run down that street, even though there were so many people around. But he kept the camera hidden and filmed me and Yoon-su running down the street while screaming. A few people recognized me and called out my name. (laughs) There were no restraints, he just thought about filming realistically. I guess I was truly filming Love in the Big City!

Wrapping up that kind of shoot in a month, was it a bummer?

A total bummer. It’s like, I was so wrapped up in this character and suddenly it was over. This drama was my first one with such intense melodrama, and my first kiss scene...

You did all of that with Yoon-su.

Yoon-su took really good care of me. He quietly brought me mouthwash and said, “Hyung, use this.” That’s how he is with me. If we meet for dinner after he has a kiss scene during the day, he’ll tell me, “Hyung, I kissed so-and-so before coming here.” For some reason, I would feel weirdly jealous. It’s ridiculous. (laughs)

Haha, sounds like you got really immersed in the role.

When I was trying to get truly immersed during filming, I only saw Nam Yoon-su. I really researched only Nam Yoon-su, I looked up what kind of person Nam Yoon-su was, I only thought about Nam Yoon-su, to the point where he would appear in my dreams. Seriously, I was also shocked. I was that desperate to play this role well.

You became a Nam Yoon-su expert for a while. Did you get to know him that well?

I mean, I don’t know everything. That guy is really similar to Go Young! He went months without responding to my KakaoTalk messages.

He was really worried before. The three of you were sitting there after meeting each other for the first time, and he said it was awkward.

It’s true. Everyone here only looks for Yoon-su. So I’ll look for him a little less.

There might be someone out there who suits you better than Yoon-su.

I guess I haven’t totally escaped yet. There’s no one else but Yoon-su. (laughs)

JIN HO-EUN

How did you get involved with Love in the Big City?

I wanted to be in a queer drama. I heard this was being made, and as you know, the original novel was really well-loved. They said that four directors would be filming it, so I auditioned. I was really greedy for the role of Gyu-ho. I kept reading the novel while preparing for the audition, but I didn’t know if it would turn out well.

So you got both the project and the role that you wanted.

I filmed a video for the first round of auditions, and I’ve been saying I wanted to play Gyu-ho since then. But director Hong Ji-young really liked that. At the time, I didn’t know which part or which director would suit me, and all four of them were at the audition, as well as Park Sang-young.

Gyu-ho is an important character. He appears a lot in the novel, and on the poster, the “I don’t care, because it’s you” tagline also comes from him.

I was really glad to get this role. He has a huge presence in the story, and because of that I wanted to do a good job. I also really liked director Hong Ji-young’s previous work. I watched all of her movies and also bought the novel to read.

What did you like so much about Gyu-ho?

He’s someone who always moves forward without wavering. He and Go Young are similar in some ways, and different in others, so they are able to see each other deeply.

According to the book description, Gyu-ho looks a bit mean, but he’s actually a sincere person.

I was the least confident about his appearance, so I asked Park Sang-young about it a lot before we filmed. Not only about his physical appearance, but also his inner self—should he closely resemble the Gyu-ho from the book or should he be different? The author wanted me to do it my own way. The first time I met him, we were waiting for another meeting to finish and spent a very awkward hour together in a room. But I asked him a lot of questions and we got closer.

What was it like working with director Hong Ji-young on Gyu-ho’s episodes?

She’s really lovely. She’s really detailed, and for every little thing she tries to maintain the author’s style while also boldly including her own touches. So while Go Young and Gyu-ho’s story is a poignant melodrama, at the same time it’s also very charming. Their story felt like a youth drama to me.

Go Young and Gyu-ho had the most romantic relationship in the story. In the end, isn’t Gyu-ho the one man Young can’t forget?

I think so. The script is really sad. I felt sad the day we shot the scene in the poster. Although a lot of time has passed, I still tear up when I look at the script or any related videos.

You haven’t gotten over it yet?

It’s not that, but the memories still remain. Maybe because we spent almost three months together? I appear in seven or eight episodes.

It must have been a bummer when it ended. How was your chemistry with Yoon-su?

I was really sad when filming ended. I was glad that Nam-su hyung had the role of Go Young. Although we had to make some adjustments during filming, we were a good fit from the start. When he was filming the first four episodes, it reflected what he felt. Hyung really took care of me.

Today the men who loved Go Young have gathered, but I believe this isn’t everyone? From what I heard, Yoon-su kissed a lot of people.

That’s right. Who did he say was the best? Did you not talk about that? He told me he kissed around 15 people, and I was impressed all over again. Not 15 kisses with one person in a single drama, but one kiss with 15 people...

So that’s why they call him “Devil Go Young.” He said that he was the one who seduced Nam-gyu, Young-su, and Gyu-ho.

He said that? But Gyu-ho absolutely isn��t someone who falls for that kind of thing. (laughs) Gyu-ho liked Go Young. He must have been satisfied with that.

Park Sang-young said Gyu-ho was “a pure person who can’t help but fall in love.” Honestly, isn’t Gyu-ho someone who can have a good relationship, even if it’s not with Go Young?

Yeah, that’s Gyu-ho’s appeal. Still, he’ll get hurt again, grow, and heal the other person. I think he can emit a certain kind of influence over everyone he chooses to be with; he had a good influence on Go Young when they were dating, and it’ll be the same when he dates someone else.

So he’s not worried about the future. How do you think Gyu-ho will do?

I also think about Gyu-ho’s future. From his actions in episodes 7 and 8, I realized he’s a constructive and practical person. That’s so like Gyu-ho.

Did Gyu-ho want Young to hold onto him?

I think it was fifty-fifty for Gyu-ho. I think it was more that Young wanted Gyu-ho to hold onto him. That made it even sadder because Gyu-ho really understood where Go Young was coming from. That’s how I approached it while filming.

What are you really like in a relationship?

I try to do my best all the time. Actually I’m not really sure, but Gyu-ho made me think that way. (laughs)

What was the most difficult part of playing Gyu-ho?

The line “I don’t care, because it’s you” was really hard. That line is from the novel, right? But having to deliver it on camera was a challenge. Also, “You don’t care if it’s not me?” I wanted to do a good job, so I discussed different versions with the director and we filmed a lot of takes. Please check it out when the drama comes out.

What kind of drama will Love in the Big City be?

I think this is a much-needed drama for our generation. It’s a story that showcases different perspectives, so even if it doesn’t happen immediately, I think people will continue to talk about it. When the casting news came out, I received a lot of supportive DMs. They said the world needs this type of show, and also thanked me. Of course, I also got a lot of jeering or disgusted emojis. Yoon-su hyung received a lot more of those, honestly.

How will you remember this drama?

I hope this drama becomes a representative work for my 20s. I filmed it when I was 25, at the crossroads of my mid-20s, and I think we told a really good story together. Can you watch it the day it premieres? I want to achieve the top ranking on Tving. I hope a lot of people watch it. Truly, seriously, please watch it.

[nerdforreid]

Prologue - Burnt out

Authors note - Hi! This is a teaser for what will hopefully be either a long one shot or a multi-part depending on whether it’s enjoyed or not but I’ve never written before and wanted to put out a teaser before releasing anything else. Please let me know if there’s anything I should change/ include.

Summary - Spencer Reid x reader. Although this is only a prologue the fic is going to be about the readers struggles with burn out and pushing her concerned coworkers away as a consequence. Despite this there is one of her coworkers who has been watching her throughout her time at the BAU and has recognised the patterns in her behaviour. However, will Spencer’s interference cause more harm than good?

Genre - hurt/comfort, heavy angst, fluff at the end

Warnings - fem!Reader, she/her pronouns used for the reader, allusions to depression, mentions of a difficult childhood, allusions to childhood trauma, possible lack of commas and proper grammar

Word count - very short but don’t get used to it x

While your childhood had been a blurry array of mismatched memories, there were a couple lessons your parents unconsciously taught you that you carried with you every day, like a form of sacred scripture. For example, you learnt at a young age how to ‘predict’ or anticipate the ways in which someone may act; some may call this walking on eggshells, but you preferred to view it as an early sign of the life ahead of you as a member of the BAU. Because of this, you liked to view yourself as very emotionally intelligent and empathetic, and you were even praised for this by your fellow team members. However, despite the highly valued benefits, it could definitely be a hurdle in itself sometimes, considering what you did for work.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence that there would be times when you would lie awake at night plagued by questions about the victim's friends and family and what came next for them. Despite your better judgement, you’d constantly torture yourself with the question, “What if things were different?”. But they weren’t different, and they never would be.

 

Burnout was something you ran from in the fear that showing the slightest weakness would prove to yourself and your coworkers that you weren’t cut out for this. You could even go months before the exhaustion and pain finally caught up, but when they did, it was all consuming.

 

Out of your two years and three months working at the BAU, there had been four separate occasions where you had sent emails in the early hours of the morning pleading with Hotch to let you take time off, each time only stating it was due to personal problems. You knew it was stupid to not just lie and say you were ill, but you also knew it would be naive of you to try to lie to one of the best profilers you knew.

 

You tried to keep occasions like this rare and would take any precautions necessary to limit the worries of your BAU family. You would force yourself to reply to each and every one of the cat memes that Penelope would forward you, and you would even reply to the long and thoughtful messages from JJ confirming that, despite her probably valid worries, you were in fact completely okay. However, there was one member of the team who could see through your perfectly crafted mirage with ease, and it was none other than your best friend, Spencer Reid.

—————————————————————————————————————

Hi again! I hope you enjoyed this despite it being so short! Please let me know if you’d like me to continue :)

[lifblogs]

Goodbye, Tech

Tech is very important to me, and while I say goodbye, I will try and explain.

Right out the door I knew this character was autistic. He acted so much like the people I love in my life, and this year I really fell in love with him. He reminds me of the good I’ve had in my life, how lucky I am to have these people that love me.

If I’m being honest, I have a really good friend whom Tech reminds me of. They’re a bit older than me, autistic, knows how to fight, and is an absolute nerd. Who did I just describe? Yeah, Tech. And also my friend.

You see, this friend has improved my life tenfold. He’s supported me in my hobbies with reading and writing, even during the times where both were hard. He made me want to push myself to do more with those hobbies, to challenge myself (and it has been incredibly fun and rewarding). And during some of the most difficult times of my life, he was there.

I only met him last year, but he has been there for me in ways other people haven’t. He helped me emotionally when I was bedbound for three months with a broken femur (I know, Tech and I could really talk about that, maybe compare notes), and he helped me when I was having so many seizures that I couldn’t live my life, that doctors were genuinely concerned that I was going to die.

And when I look at Tech, I see a wonderful character, and I see my friend.

Tech is so full of things and people I love. I see my brother in him, my friends. I see kindness, and cuteness, and pure nerdy fun. I genuinely wish I could talk to Tech about physics for hours. I want to hear all about the weird Star Wars creatures (I, too, am an animal lover, Tech), I want to research with him, I want to learn the names of all the stars.

Tech is such a wonderful character to me. I love his bravery, his loyalty, his love.

And I suppose, if this really is goodbye for good, then at least I can leave with love for him.

Tech, you’re so special to me, and I know you’re special to others. You represent something so many people need to see, and it was beautiful to see that on a screen. It was beautiful to know that maybe there’d be more acceptance in the world for autistic people like my brother, and my friends. Hope you’re out there somewhere doing some crazy flying maneuvers while infodumping about some strange animal. Wherever you are, thank you.

Goodbye, Tech. I really love you so much.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Well, I’ve had a hell of a week. So far since last weekend, I have:

- Had a conversation with my roommate after which I became sure I would not be able to stay in my house. There’s been a whole thing for the last couple of months where my roommate is moving out and has tried to give our place to someone else, but I very much like this place (for reasons that range from good price and good location and it’s a good house, to I get too emotionally attached to places where I spend too much time) and want to stay here, and it’s long and complicated but basically I’ve had two months of being constantly stressed due to uncertainty about where I’ll be living in the fall. Then last weekend, I had a very confrontational call with my roommate – and I don’t do confrontation well – in which he informed that he was going to do something I had not previously thought of in order to give the house away, I was pretty sure it would work, got very upset due to the unexpected confrontation and due to the fact that I became sure I wouldn’t be able to stay here.

- Three days later, a couple of other people talked to my roommate, I talked to the landlord, a few things changed (including – I’m not saying my roommate will listen to men but not women, but when our male mutual friend made all the exact same points to him that I did, suddenly they made sense), and I’m now pretty sure I can keep the place. More sure than I’ve been for two months. The first time in two months that I’ve been able to lift almost all of that stress off my shoulders, and it’s an amazing feeling. I almost hesitate to write this for fear of inviting the worst, since nothing’s signed yet, it’s not for sure. Also I do still have to find a new roommate to cover the other half of the rent because his subletter’s moving out. But I can figure that out. It’s a huge relief to know it’ll very likely be okay.

- On Monday night, I accompanied my brother to one of his comedy shows, a decision I made partly to take my mind off worrying about whether I’d get to stay in my place (since I hadn’t yet heard the good news about that getting better). My brother convinced me to put my name in a draw, where whatever name they pick gets to perform in the one spot they keep open for that. My fucking name got picked. I performed stand-up comedy for the first time. I recited some shit that I wrote a while ago and have wanted to perform but haven’t had the guts to try before. It went much better than I’d expected, though that’s only because I’d expected it to be a catastrophic failure. In reality it went fine. People laughed more than one time, which wildly exceeded my expectations. Afterward, several comedians and several audience members came up to me to say I did well. Some were presumably just being nice (I’m sure “just being nice” also factored into the laughs, as I did immediately tell them this was my first time doing it), but they seemed to mean it, at least a bit. I think it actually was all right for a first time. Afterward I hung around the bar and drank with comedians and it was the first time in ages that I can remember having so much fucking fun without any part of it being difficult.

- On Wednesday, I went out to a live Celtic music night. This is because a couple of weeks before that, my parents went to a folk festival out East and saw a few of my favourite singers, and that made me sad, because I used to go see music all the time, and I stopped in 2020, and I’ve seen a couple of music things since then but not many, and I miss it. So, it occurred to me, there’s nothing stopping me from just starting it again. The day after the folk festival that I missed, I Googled folk music in my area, found a reasonably priced Celtic music night at a venue that’s relatively near me, that I’d never heard of because it just opened during the pandemic. I checked its schedule and it has a lot of stuff that I like, including monthly Celtic music nights. This sort of thing is part of why I care so much about staying in my place that’s downtown. Near my sport. Near my friend. Near comedy. Near live music. I’ve spent so much time staying in my house not doing stuff, I’m only just starting to do stuff again, I want to do everything, that is not a good time to lose my downtown housing.

So on Wednesday, I walked to this new music venue, and it’s so good. So good. The perfect size, big enough to fit enough of a crowd to bring in touring musicians, not big enough for the size of the room to impact enjoyment. Capacity of about 90 people, I think, and well spread out. Stage with enough room for a band with lots of instruments. A building that was clearly made with acoustics in mind, the sound quality was fantastic. And when I got there, I didn’t want to pay for the overpriced water bottles you get at venues, but I was so hot and thirsty from the walk that I decided it was worth it. So I asked at the counter for a bottle of water, and they told me I could just take a cup and fill it from their water cooler for free. I will be returning to that venue.

Then they played music! God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen that stuff live, I love it. It was a band I didn’t know, but was made of four people, two of whom I did know, from other projects they’ve done. Three were local and one from out East. They all knew their shit, played a bunch of classics and some of their own stuff. Stuck very closely to the “Celtic” remit (unlike some bands that will just define “Celtic music” as “anything with a fiddle”), explained the history of every song and tune, it was mainly Scottish and some Irish and a few Cornish songs. Was fucking beautiful. The show was just about to start when I got a text from my roommate telling me he’d spoken to the landlord and I’ll get more details later but I’m going to be able to stay in the house.

- On Thursday, I went out to a different comedy night. This is one I’ve been to before, a pub that runs comedy every Thursday just around the corner from my house. I went a bunch of weeks in a row this spring, and hadn’t been for a few weeks, but was pleased when the woman working at the bar still recognized me when I came in, asked me where I’d been. This was normal, she’d started recognizing me after I’d been going for a few weeks. What was less normal was that this time, the guy who runs the comedy night also went up to me, and asked if I planned to put my name in the lotto draw, the same type of thing that I did on Monday when my name got picked and I performed. The Monday and Thursday night things both have seven comedians who are booked ahead of time, and then leave open one “lotto spot” that goes to whoever’s name gets pulled from a pitcher.

I said no, because that hadn’t occurred to me, I hadn’t even started to think about how I wanted to try performing again, I’d only come to watch. Then I sat down, thought for five minutes, got back up, and put my name in. Because why not?

My name didn’t end up getting picked, but I enjoyed some of the comedy (not all of it, these nights can be hit and miss, but a few people were good). After it was over, while I was paying my bill, the guy who runs the comedy night came over to me again. He addressed me by my first name, which briefly surprised me because I’d not spoken to him before that night, and I hadn’t realized he knew my name. He said he was sorry I didn’t get picked for the lotto spot, but would I like to perform – as in be on the actual bill, not just in the lotto – on August 10th, in two weeks?

My first thought was genuinely that he’d made some sort of mistake, what with me not being a comedian. I asked him if he was sure, and he said, “Yeah, I saw you at [name of other pub, that runs the Monday night comedy], you were good. So do you want to perform here in two weeks?” I said yes, and thank you, and tried to seem relatively cool about it. Then I left the bar (after briefly apologizing to the guy who had compered the night for how quiet the audience was, including me because to be honest I’d been too distracted by wondering if I’d get picked for the lotto spot to laugh out loud much, but the compere was good and got visibly distressed about how little audience reaction he got, I told him he was funny and deserved a better response, and he told me that made him feel much better and my comment made his night, I’d been nervous to say that to him but then was glad I did, little life tip, if you have nice things to say to people you should say them), and walked home while trying not to shout out loud “I love this fucking city!” as though I was Jim Carry running across town at the end of a movie.

So... it wasn't just people wanting to be nice when they told me on Monday I'd done well. A guy who runs a comedy night thought I did well enough to put me on a bill.

- Last night, I went out for dinner with my best friend, hadn’t eaten in actual restaurant in ages, that was really nice. Hung out at my place afterward. Appreciated how convenient it is to live a fifteen-minute walk from a guy I’ve known for twenty years and still want to see all the time.

- Today, Saturday, I’m about to drive to Montreal to see Tom Ballard and Josie Long, two of my favourite comedians, in a fairly small room at the Just For Laughs Festival. I am so fucking excited. Beyond fucking excited. I am not even going to try to explain how excited I am, because I won’t do it justice. I’ve written a couple of posts about it already. I can barely even think about it. I still can hardly wrap my mind around the idea that Josie Long is a real person and will be in a room with me, even though I’ve been sent pictures she’s put on social media of herself since she arrived in Canada earlier this week.

- Tomorrow, I am being sent to the seaside for my health. I fly out to my grandparents’ home on Canada’s East Coast, my favourite place in the world (Canada’s East Coast in general is a place I love, but my grandparents’ house, out in rural Nova Scotia and right on the ocean, where they’ve been living since I was two years old and where I’ve spent a lot of time every year of my life, is my actual favourite place in the world). My parents have been there for a couple of months now (that’s how they went out to the folk festival that I had to miss due to not being in the area), and I’ll be joining them for a week, and then we’ll all drive home next weekend, and I start a new job on August 8th.

My grandparents won’t be there – they moved into a care home a while ago, and my parents love that house so much and have been trying to figure out a way to keep it in the family, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to work. So part of why they went down this summer was to look into the process of selling it. They did do that a bit, and nothing’s happening immediately, but there’s a good chance this week will be the last time I’ll ever go there. I hope it won’t be. Selling it might take a long time and I might get there again. Or it might sell immediately because it’s the best place in the world.

Either way, I’m going to enjoy this time there. I feel really lucky to have had all the time with it that I’ve had for thirty years, and I feel lucky to get to see it again next week.

So, that's my life update. Things have been rather rough for a while, but they're really looking up. Not everything's sorted out yet, but to paraphrase 30 Rock's Liz Lemon, I am hesitantly allowing myself to feel slightly hopeful.

[thekingofthenameless]

HELLOOOIO, MY DEAR!! ahem, some emojis for the writing asks!! 🦋, 🌿, 🐠, 🍯, 🍬, 🍰, aaaaand finally this one; 🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥 (my apologies for how many there are. 😭😭)

HELLO!!!

Thanks for the ask!!! :D I do not care about how many there are I got an ask!!!

🦋 - Tell us about your current wip

Okay so. Blurb first! The King of the Nameless is an adaptation of Arthurian Legend, except… it takes place in an entirely fantasy world. Wizards, demons, dragons, mermaids, and spirits are just five of the magical creatures that inhabit Galdorcræft. Alongside magic being everywhere, corruption runs just as deep in the country of Avalon. Seaside towns that imported benign items like silk are now infamous for attracting contract killers and magic hunters. The idea of murdering magical creatures for their body parts, as well being a falsely presumed threat to humanity, is slowly becoming more widespread through rumors of what their magic can do to heal and harm, no matter how much Merlin Ambrosius tries to stop it. He’s a wizard himself, of course. Everybody knows that. What they don’t know is that he’s hiding a lot of secrets: being half-demon, being born a girl, and trying to cope with madness that makes it difficult to tell falsehoods from reality, for one thing. However, he has his dragon familiar and found family, Charlemagne Ambrosius, to keep him grounded and understand him when no one else will. Unbeknownst to them, the very heart of corruption is in Camelot itself. Uther Pendragon has just become king after his father’s death, and he’s been waiting for this. Maybe now that he’s ruling, he can finally kill Merlin and rid himself of the rebellious, soft, mad advisor. With the most powerful wizard in the land dead, then no one will be able to stop him from killing the monsters that plague it. Or, in a crappy summary: “Traumatized Mentally Ill Trans Male Protagonist Who Has The Best Dragon Ever Tries To Stop The Creepy Asshole King From Ruining Everything”

It’s kind of weird to look back at how this all started. This whole thing started because after watching Wizards: Tales of Arcadia I was completely, utterly heartbroken at Merlin dying. It was the most crushing fictional character death I’ve personally experienced, and I wanted a different ending. I sent an ask/request to someone who wrote ToA fanfiction at the time. And I liked what they wrote, but it wasn’t quite what I was looking for, so I started writing! The blurb for the now discontinued fanfiction Emerald Embers was "Angsty, fluffy, and humorous canon divergent fanfiction, starring a traumatized, emotionally constipated protagonist". It originally started all the way back in Episode Eight, where it was a role swap of Merlin and Douxie (Douxie didn’t die, since Merlin actually knew healing magic he was able to stabilize the stab wound and get him to the hospital lol) Then it slowly went back to medieval times with several different ideas, (opening with my oc, Egbert, opening with Galahad, opening with Merlin fighting Gumm-Gumms... but each draft always had Merlin taking a three year old orphaned Douxie in) but Merlin was always the protagonist. So it went through draft after draft because I couldn’t make anything fit, with Merlin slowly becoming more and more of an oc even though it was still supposed to be somewhat canon complaint… And then I got burnout. I was putting too many expectations on myself and feeling like I had a deadline on releasing it, and it was bad enough for me to take a several month hiatus from anything EE related, along with unintentionally taking a hiatus from Tumblr. After those months of trying to rest and allowing myself to get into a different fandom, (it was Narnia lol) I felt ready to visit it again. I'd had vague ideas of what could happen if I made it my own book before, but this time the idea wouldn't let go. It wasn't long before I did end up deciding on making it my own LOL. Characters and ideas were becoming too different; I was so scared of doing it for a while, but in the end, I've been way happier doing this. (Looking back, it's hilarious that in my first draft of EE, I was trying so hard to make things canon compliant that I didn't have any ideas.) So yeah. It's been a ride. But now I have black, transmasc, and aroace Merlin, the best boy Charlie, Greek wizards (or Galdorcræft's equivalent of them) Igraine and Gorlois, mermaid NImue, along with a ton of different of different magical creatures I hope to include. Also this should go without saying but there is no fucking incest here!!! The Arthurian Legebds are fucking full of it and I hate it

🌿 - Who is your favorite character you’ve ever written?

Not to be biased (that’s a lie. I’m very biased), but probably Merlin! Uther is also surprisingly fun to write even though he’s a bitch lol

🐠 - Author who inspires you

Hmmmm I don’t really have any rn, (I need to get back into reading probably) but my favorite book series is The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis!

🍯 - Author you know

You! :D 😉

🍬 A song for your favorite character

Ooooof choosing just one is hard but I have been listening to “White Witch” by Florence and the Machine a lot lately! I also have a playlist I made for him that I should probably link here at some point lol

🍰 - Where you like to write

Definitely in my room lol 😂 It’s where I can listen to music and let my ideas flow! (Unlike at work 😞)

🐥 - Here’s some writing motivation!

THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU /pos

[harrowharks-earing]

My friend started weaponizing self-harm. So I blocked him.

I have this friend, we’ll call him Dylan, who I met a little over a year ago through a Facebook group for adults trying to make friends after college. I knew from the start he was a difficult person to be friends with, as he makes something of a point of oversharing, which he explained to me was his way of weeding out fake friends and people who wouldn’t like the real him anyway. He is a deeply cynical person and some of his opinions are definitely off-putting, but he was very emotionally intelligent and was good about reminding people not to go out of their way for him when he would share something traumatic and/or heavy. So I understood why he definitely wasn’t “for everyone” and didn’t blame them for not getting along with him. But it seemed like he was genuinely trying to be as authentic to himself as possible, while respecting that that meant some people wouldn’t like him. He would often mention how he had trouble really opening up or knowing who his real friends were, how friends often abandoned him if he got too real with them. But he kept telling me how he liked me because I was kind and patient, sometimes telling me I was too nice for my own good, like when we went out with our Facebook group and I got stuck with a guy talking very much at me for way too long before Dylan pulled me out. He seemed emotionally intelligent and wise beyond his years and was always there for me as a shoulder to lean on, and always aggressively on my side in any disagreements I told him about, be it an argument with my brother or getting fired from my job.

We started hanging out independently of the group and around this time he met and also befriended my best friend, who we’ll call Mary. Mary is also very emotionally intelligent, working with children on the spectrum and having a degree is psychology, and I love her to bits. But she is definitely the sort to intentionally stick her head in the sand to avoid thinking about unpleasant topics. So being out with the two of them felt like I was in the middle of two extremes. Dylan being in your face with his dark thoughts, worldview, and experiences and Mary being optimistic and whimsical if a bit willfully naive. Naturally they would butt heads sometimes and I struggled with these arguments because I only sort of understood where either of them were coming from and knew the other person had a point they were refusing to see. I didn’t like being caught in the middle but they were very good about not dragging me into their disagreements if I didn’t want to or anything like that, letting me pipe up when I thought one of them raised a good point but not making me pick a side.

This all started about two month or so ago when I returned from a family vacation in Florida. My sister had announced her pregnancy during the trip and I knew Dylan had some dark views on choosing to have kids, viewing it as a fundamentally selfish act in the part of the parents. So I was purposefully very casual in mentioning the pregnancy, dropping it in a thread about how the trip was in a group chat with the three of us and even mentioning just before that how I always love to see my little nieces. Mary liked the message and said congratulations and then we moved on. This was late at night and Dylan wasn’t saying anything, so I thought that would be it. Turns out he had missed the thread as he was out partying and I woke up to the following message “give your sister my condolences on her infestation” What the fuck Dylan?

Me and Mary tried to explain that, regardless of his opinions on babies, that was not an okay thing to say. I really want to emphasize that we weren’t trying to change his opinion or anything, only to explain that sometimes, if you can’t say anything nice, it is best to not say anything at all. But he is refusing to listen, giving me the same talking points I’ve heard from him dozens of times about how he won’t let himself be tied into knots to appease others. I told him in the future he should try asking a question about the couple to see if such a comment might be welcome. But he sees any request to restrain himself as a complete, vicious, personal attack. I still can’t hear anything about my sister’s unborn baby without remembering how he hijaked a moment that had nothing to do with him and made it all about his opinion and trauma and getting upset all over again.

(Btw I know for a fact both Dylan and Mary read that threat to their respective therapists that week, lol)

After two weeks of silence, Dylan does apologize, explaining that he was in a dark place but he is trying to be better every day. He has told me this before when we disagreed. For example, when he told me and Mary we “weren’t mentally ill enough to understand this movie”. But I believed him about trying to help better and forgave him.

But his behavior did not improve. About a week ago he and I are texting and I ask how he is supporting himself while he is abroad since I know he likes to party a lot. He told me he wasn’t really and that his lifestyle was not sustainable but he was too anxious to get a job either. I suggested he look into apps like taskrabit or instacart so he could set his own hours and earn at least some pocket money. And he goes on this rant at me about how I am triggering him.

Then, about three days ago, he texts me something out of the blue about how he thinks he’s falling in love with some girl. I am aromantic, so definitely not the best person to ask for love advice but Dylan has a track record for ignoring whatever I suggest so I tell him “Honestly at this point I don’t know why you tell me these things. We both know you’ll just do whatever you want regardless.” And he responds “Yeah. That’s because I’m not asking you for your opinion. I’m just telling you about my day :)” and he goes on to tell me he expects me to just listen without getting judgmental and maybe respond by telling a story about my life in kind.

Now I definitely get just needing to vent to a friend sometimes but he had never communicated that this was his expectation and I was hurt to learn he really wasn’t listening to any of the advice I had given him over the months, even when he later admitted it was good advice. I told him that doesn’t sound like a friendship. That sounds like you are using me as a receptive for your emotions and you would be just as well served by posting on social media or buying a diary. And we get into this argument about how he doesn’t listen to me. He again tells me he needs to speak to his therapist about this.

Then after work the next day I see this long text he’s sent me, basically explaining that he will not be changing his behavior because it’s a symptom of BPD which he thinks he might have, but he hopes I understand why and we can continue to be friends. I decided not to respond immediately and to sleep on it. I wake up in the morning to a text from Dylan, the notification of which reads “I know it’s ridiculous but I kinda want to kill myself right now”

I am stunned. That is how he chooses to respond to my lack to reaction? I know for an absolute fact he know what a shitty and manipulate thing that is to say to someone, especially during an argument. But I have work that day and know I can’t get into unpacking that until after my shift so I ignore the message and leave it unread. At lunch, I see he has texted me some attachment and I immediately know I don’t want to open it and see some guilt-trippy thing about how I am making his mental health worse by not responding. And that’s when I realize exactly what Brian is: he’s the world’s poorest little meow meow. He thinks his mental health issues give him a pass on his selfish behavior and refuses to listen or accept accountability.

I texted him to lose my number for a while, and not to respond with some spiel about how he’s such a sad meow meow. I should’ve blocked him immediately because I know he wouldn’t respect that boundary. He can’t stand to let anyone else have the last word. He responds right away with a spiel about how he’s the world’s wettest little kitten but thinks because he said vulgar words it is something different and was guilt trippy as hell.

I’m upset because he was a very loyal friend to me and I am sad to lose that relationship but I cannot tolerate that kind of treatment. The worst part is I am sure I’m just the latest of who knows how many friends he’s had over the years who he now talks about as though they abandoned him for the smallest infraction without a second thought. Or incorporates into his self-pitying world-view. I feel like a fool for not seeing the way he was with our mutual friends and letting him get away with that for so long.

[sun-in-retrograde]

31 July to 6 August - Outer Planets weekly

My third week doing this! Reminder - this is part of a project of tracking and learning the signatures of the outer dwarf planets. They're all complex and deep energies, and they're slow moving. The more we follow them, the more we know

Eris

The dance of aspects in Leo is really interesting and it effectively goes like this: Venus hits an exact trine with Eris on Saturday but they’re both moving very slowly the effect of this will be felt all week. Then, next week Lilith trines Eris while Venus is conjunct to the Sun. The Sun will conjunct Lilith and then trine Eris shortly after.

This dance of conjunctions between Venus, Lilith and Mars has been going on since Venus entered Leo. The other big player in this drama is Uranus squares. In general all this comes together to create a really frustrated vibe. Coveting what you can’t have. But in this summer of strikes, that’s positive. We can’t all have what rich people have - holidays, safe homes, medical care. Eris is there to ask why not, and what we need to do to change that. 

So this week, we have Venus retrograde coming conjunct with Lilith. They’re both square Uranus and we’ll have a perfect Eris-Venus trine. It’s a good time to be angry about what you can’t have. Maybe you’re afraid - the Uranus square is good for fear. Maybe you’re queer in a society where that’s increasingly difficult. Maybe prices are rising and the rich are getting richer and maybe they’ll automate your job in a few years. Maybe you should be afraid. The Eris trine is the ability to land a few lucky shots against the systems that are arrayed against you. The Uranus square is the secret power behind that. Eris loves a fight for its life. If you fear oppression, or poverty, the people you fear probably don’t fear you. That means you need to win, and they don’t. It’s a good week for that kind of a fight.  

All this is backed up by the North Node - Eris Conjunction. The North Node wants and evolves, and Eris fights and rebels. The two are about 3 and a half degrees separated this week but as they come together the fight for empowerment can get more real and intense. 

Haumea

Speaking of the North Node, Haumea is spending the week in opposition to the North Node and square Pluto. And it'll be square Venus till Thursday. The big signature feeling of this, as far as I can see, has so far been "oh wow I got everything I wanted now I feel like shit". 

It feels like a silly emotion but it's a real feeling to process. One friend of mine got something last week they've wanted for months and was emotionally immobilised by it. There's powerful planets in this series of aspects. It raises regret at what you didn't have sooner, fear about the next step, left over anxiety when the fight you were primed for doesn't happen. These are real emotions. You are allowed them. 

Sedna

Sedna nearly had aspects with three planets, and they’re all in Retrograde. I’ve talked about Venus and Neptune before and those aspects are coming to an end. For now - we’ll come back to them later. I see them as a conversation about values and a chance to confront unhelpful ideologies. The trine between Pluto and Sedna could be a lot of things - but one thing is a re-evaluation of relationships of power. It’s a question of whether the systems that uphold the world serve us and an invitation to change them if they don’t. The revolutionary energy is particularly notable for Americans as Pluto has returned to where it was when the country was founded. It’s not a hurry though - we have years to work with this,

Gonggong

Gonggong will have a Saturn conjunction on Sunday but both planet are moving slowly in retrograde and we’ll have this energy with a tight conjunction all week. It’s the second of three conjunctions. The first in May and the third will be early next year. 

Gonggong is kind of the energy of a word turning upside down. Last conjunction, this happened in the form of a few big incidents of people saying “no”: 

The Wagner group ran out of ammunition and left active serve in Ukraine -  they went on to rebel against Russia

The Writer’s Guild of America went on strike

The Coronation took place in Britain and the police arrested middle class, respectable protestors from the much middle class, respectable, republican group - Republic. Before this, Republic was a joke. Afterwards people on the left at least don’t make fun of them anymore. 

So - the conjunction is a good time to withdraw labour, say no, or even suffer a set-back. Sometimes it’s when things stop that you work out what the next step should be. 

Tuesday to Friday this is complicated by an opposition with Mercury. It makes this whole week a time to notice problems and bugs. Mercury is in Virgo and will be going over things with a fine tooth comb. This can be miserable but the extra Gonggong energy is what makes spotting that typo or missing payment really useful in the long term. This is backed up by Quaoar - another planet of the radical revelation, which is spending all week sextile to Saturn and Gonggong, and a significant amount of time trine to Mercury - all of which should add to the possibility of extra information coming out and necessary changes.

Orcus 

Orcus will be conjunct Mars on Wednesday and trine Jupiter on Thursday. I talked about this last week - Jupiter-Orcus feels like an energy of having too many options while Mars allows us to whittle those down. We might be feeling hyperfocused and obsessive in the next week, which has some positive if it gets us where we need to go.

[lablabgail]

Being A Mompreneur – I am a Mompreneur and I am proud of it!

Wikipedia defines a Mompreneur as a female business owner juggling the role of mom and the role of entrepreneur.

However, I like this definition better.

"A superhero who raises her children while starting a business" I am a MOMpreneur - I do introduce myself in that way with pride.

Business leaders who have achieved success frequently cite their mothers as their greatest influences. My son, however, has served as my greatest source of inspiration. Being a mompreneur is similar to juggling two demanding endeavors. Even though it sounds cliché, both commitments require 24 hours a day, 7 days a week attention and a lot of persistence and patience.

My inner child has been reawakened as I spend more time with my toddler. I've started making risky choices, developed a fearless exploration style, increased my creativity, and am definitely more optimistic. I am more content, happier, and I frequently give myself small victories as rewards. I must admit that rewarding people is a useful tool that works well with adults. One of the best decisions I've ever made was to start a business as a mom, and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. With all of its highs and lows, I honor it. I am happy and grateful of the miracles my life has experienced as a result of trusting the vision that God gave me.

By simply sitting still and doing nothing, one cannot ascend. You can only succeed if you get up from your seat, work tirelessly, and show complete dedication to your dreams.

There isn't a "magic pill" that magically transports you from the confinement of your cubicle to the unlimited world of entrepreneurship.

Starting your own business is more difficult than it appears. I needed a lot of mental strength to make such a significant life decision. Not only does your heart have questions, but so does your brain: "I have a son attending the best school," "What if I don't get a job for three months?" Is it possible for me to provide for my family? Will I be able to take care of my son? And I was very emotionally scarred by these questions, day and night. The stakes are indeed high because your achievements and misadventures have an impact on not only you but also your entire family and the people you travel with. Not only Mayson, but also my partner and family supported me as I worked toward and achieved my goal. They had faith in my ability to accomplish my goals.

Each challenge I currently face serves as a greater opportunity to discover my true strength and power.

Since I have a strong belief in God and have always believed in my ability to work hard, be resilient, and persevere, it is possible. Those who put their trust in God and do so will eventually recognize his hand at work in all things.

I have always believed that YOU are the only person who can truly care about your dreams. Every time I see my son's face, even in the midst of the chaos and exhaustion, he reminds me to take a chance for my better future.

Being a mom entrepreneur requires accepting a significant amount of responsibility, both personally and professionally.

When you launch your own business, you have a thousand thoughts racing through your head.

 You must make the conditions perfect because they are never ideal. It's the life I choose for myself because no one forced me to become a MOM Entrepreneur. It won't be resolved for me by anybody else. I used to always encourage and comfort myself by taking a deep breath and trying again because every failure contains hidden opportunities. And my failures helped me learn valuable life lessons.

I now have my own "BOSS." If I could do it, you certainly can too!

[cookinguptales]

Okay I’m finally at a good point in my actual work that I get paid for, so TIME TO WRITE SOME META ABOUT FAMILY MAYBE?

I am obsessed with the way this season seems to be all about family, what makes someone family, and what family can look like. Like I’m so obsessed with it on so many levels that I’ve been having a hard time knowing where to start...

The way that Colin Robinson, who cynically claimed last season that the best way to use and abuse workers was to make them feel like they’re your family, ended up being utterly dependent on these people as his new family? And the way that his presence (and dependence) is the reason why they actually are starting to pull together and act as a family? And how that might actually be how baby energy vampires feed?

The way that they all seem to know instinctively that they are a family of some kind, but as this last episode demonstrated, even they aren’t entirely sure what their roles inside it should be?

The way that Guillermo has at least two competing families -- and I would argue that they’re clearly setting him up for three competing families -- that he can’t quite seem to incorporate into each other? And the way that he’s having a very difficult time deciding which of them is the most “real”?

The way that The Guide keeps trying to scratch at the edges of this family to see if she can make a space for herself in it? The way that the wraiths are the closest thing that she has to a family and that she, too, is finding herself in the middle of two factions?

The way that Nandor’s conceptualization of family has grown and changed over the centuries but he still hasn’t seemed to figure that out? And how he’s trying to go back to the familial role he had when he was alive but that he outgrew centuries ago, and how he can’t seem to reconcile who he was back then with who he is (and what he wants) now? (See also: Nandor’s emotional transition from husband to wannabe guywife.)

The way that both Guillermo and Laszlo, while not particularly fond of each other (thank you, Guillermo, for the most petulant “baby...” of all time) are both fond of Colin and that’s helping them work through their weird relationships with their own childhoods and in particular their own fathers?

The way that Guillermo’s father is such a mysterious and nebulous figure that I’m sure we’re going to hear more about him eventually? The way that Marwa’s father has been listed on imdb for months? The way that fatherhood is a concept that we keep coming back to over and over and over and over again!

aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Y’all, I am so emotionally invested in the many, many ways this season is all about family that I don’t even know what to talk about first, haha. Is there anything in particular you’re most interested to hear about? I need some direction here.

[scullys-girl]

Relief

s/s | explicit | s8 au | ao3

cw: blood (minor)

Stella let out a quiet breath of relief as she carefully closed the door to William’s room and snuck off down the hallway to turn his monitor on. It had been a challenging nap time routine this morning as the three-month-old was in the dreaded three-month sleep regression. Still, she'd finally managed to get him down after Dana had nursed him, and he’d let out a significant amount of burps one could never imagine coming out of a small baby his size. Stella had used her best soothing voice which she knew the boy loved as she sang to him, changed him into a fresh diaper, and rocked him in the cozy green glider in the corner of his room until he’d quieted his fit and eventually closed his tired eyes.

Wanting to make sure her girlfriend didn’t work up to a fit that matched the nature of her son’s, Stella made her way into the kitchen and readied a hot water bottle before gently knocking on the bathroom door. She could hear Dana rustling around on the other side as she flushed the toilet and supplied a very quiet but perturbed, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Giving her some space, Stella set the hot water bottle on Dana’s side of the bed and retrieved two tablets of Tylenol, and a fresh glass of water. Returning to the bedroom just as her girlfriend left the bathroom, she gave her a sympathetic smile and handed her the items as Scully crawled into bed with a groan.

“Doing okay?” she asked, though she knew Dana clearly wasn’t and was in a lot of pain.

The redheaded mother sighed as she swallowed down the tablets and handed the water back over to Stella, unable to move any longer. She closed her eyes and pinched the flesh between her brows, pressing the hot water bottle between her hipbones as she shook her head.

Stella knew Dana was at her wit's end whenever and if ever she admitted defeat, so she knew her girlfriend must have been in an extraordinary amount of pain. It wasn’t like her to submit so easily to a state of willingly being taken care of, but Stella understood. This was the first time Dana had gotten her period since having William, and no matter how much medical knowledge she knew about post-birth and menstruation, she’d been hit with so much unbelievable pain that it made Stella feel inadequate when it came to taking care of her partner.

Earlier that morning, she’d drawn Scully a bath, massaged her lower back and abdomen, carried their son around so Dana didn’t have to hold any weight, and had taken care of all of the Saturday morning cleaning with William harnessed to her chest so that his other mother could rest and relax. Right now, however, she couldn’t think of any other way to help her partner – other than the obvious, but she knew that Dana would shut her down the minute she would ask. Dana was never one to really enjoy period sex, though she did on occasion when she was feeling particularly good about herself physically and emotionally.

Stella highly doubted she’d been in the mood for it today.

Not knowing what else to do, she climbed into bed and rubbed Dana’s temples, giving her a long and loving kiss on the forehead – one she hoped Scully would feel as she was pouring all of her love and support from her lips.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, love?” she asked sincerely. “I know you’re in a lot of pain.”

Dana let out another sound – a mixture of a sigh and a whine as she finally looked into Stella’s eyes for the first time since lying down. “I don’t know,” she said defeatedly, a wet tear falling down her rosy cheek. “I’m sorry that I’ve been complaining so much today, Stel.”

“Nonsense,” the blonde countered as she wiped away the runaway tear and replaced her gentle thumb with tender lips. “You never have to apologize for such things with me, remember? You had such a difficult and painful delivery, and I know how much you were trying to brave it during the following few weeks of recovery and bleeding. Dana, I’d rather you complain about every single negative thing you’re feeling than keep it hidden from me. I want to support you in any way that I can and you deserve to be taken care of when you’re feeling this way.”

Another tear roused from Dana’s ducts, spilling over her lower lashes and glissading down her cheekbone. “Thank you,” she quietly sobbed, allowing Stella to peck her lips. “I wish there was something more I could think of to do. I don’t want to be like this all week, especially when I go back to work on Monday, and I can’t have you burdening the majority of the load when it comes to taking care of William.”

“I don’t mind. You did all the heavy lifting for nine entire months. I promise this is no issue for me at all.”

“I know,” Scully softened, threading their fingers together. “But I feel like I’m also letting him down whenever I take time for myself.”

Stella rubbed her thumb along her partner’s skin, her eyebrows pulling together on her forehead. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I know I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do.”

“Well, that’s understandable, love. But our son needs both of us at our best, and sometimes that means letting the other shoulder the majority of parenting while the other does what they need to in order to feel better. You aren’t letting him down by being human, Dana. And when he grows old enough to understand, he will learn that self-care isn’t selfish – it’s a necessity. So right now my love, you are being a good example to that sweet boy by taking whatever time you need to heal and feel better.”

“Oh Stel,” Dana sniffled, pulling her girlfriend closer into her space for a semi-awkward hug that made them both laugh, considering the younger mother could barely move. “I never thought of it that way. I was always taught that no matter what or how you are feeling you show up for those you love despite the toll it takes.”

“You’re a good mum, Dana. It’s so easy to worry about all of the things you might be doing wrong, even at this age – believe me, I understand that all too well – but you’re the best mother to him already, I promise you that.”

Stella watched as more tears spilled down her partner's cheeks; the gentle way in which she smoothed them away made Dana smile.

“I don’t deserve someone as kind and giving as you, Stella Gibson.”

Leaning down to kiss her forehead, the blonde’s head shook back and forth. “You deserve the world, Dana Scully. I’m just trying my best to show you that and to give you whatever I can. I love you.”

Dana’s thumbs connected with her skin, burning her cheeks with affection and a love so profound, Stella felt it all the way down to her bones. She tried her hardest not to cry, knowing how hormonal Scully was at this time of the month while she was also breastfeeding, but she couldn’t help the single tear and the one that followed as they rolled down to her lips.

Dana swiped them away as she said, “I love you too,” and they held eye contact as the reflective smiles they shared with each other grew.

But not until she closed her eyes and groaned, a hand shooting down to her abdomen.

“Oh, love.” Stella caressed the growing baby hairs along her partner’s forehead and smoothed them back. “Would you like a back rub? Another bath?”

“Maybe,” Scully replied gruffly as she tried to sit up, but ultimately grabbed her breasts with a hiss and a groan.

“Sore?” asked Stella gently.

“They feel like they’ve been stretched out on a taffy puller and then sewn back onto my chest without anesthetic.”

Stella winced. “Would a bit of pumping help or would that just make them feel more painful?”

“I’m not sure,” Dana sighed. “The pump is more painful than nursing but William probably won’t be up for another hour. You just put him down.”

Stella moseyed off the bed, intent on trying whatever she could to alleviate all of her girlfriend’s pain. “Would you like to try a warm compress, or perhaps we should just try the bath, even if you’re hesitant about it?”

“Yeah, maybe. The bath gets cold quickly, though, so I'm more inclined to shower.”

“Would you like me to join you?” Stella winked playfully at her, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, Doctor Scully, I have an idea that could help your cramps better than any medication we have on hand could ever.”

Scully’s lips curled upward as she rolled her eyes.

It wasn’t exactly a cold, stern no…

“Stella, you know I don’t personally like to have sex while I’m menstruating. I feel gross and smelly and just… especially not today when I’m bleeding heavier than I ever have before.”

“I know. You don’t have to, love,” Stella soothed, circling the bed to sit on the edge and plant a kiss on Dana’s temple. “I know it’s helped you a great deal in the past, so it was merely a suggestion.”

Eyes squeezing shut, Scully took a deep inhale through her nose and out her mouth, gripping the top of the duvet with her fists. Smoothing her hair back, Stella guided her breathing with exaggerated inhales and exhales until the comforter smoothed out again, free of Dana’s grip as the worst of it subsided. She’d been told that oftentimes Dana’s cramps would come and go in waves like contractions, and that her partner preferred when she sat next to her with minimal touching until most of the pain was gone.

Scully groaned and opened her eyes.

Stella gave her an affectionate, empathetic look.

“If you change your mind, I can keep a listen in case William wakes up, and you can have a nice shower by yourself with or without an orgasm. But, I could also bring the baby monitor into the bathroom and join you. It’s all up to you, my love. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Pondering for a moment, Scully’s forehead wrinkled as she weighed out each possible outcome. “Could you join me in the shower? I’d like to try that. Just to see how it goes at first,” she said, putting her arm out as a way to show how adamant she was about the sex part.

Stella let out a small chuckle and placed one last kiss on her temple. “Of course, love,” she agreed. “Why don’t I get it started so it can get warmed up, and I’ll grab us some fresh clothes and towels.”

“Will you plug the monitor into the outlet by the sink so we can hear if the baby wakes up?”

“Already on it,” Stella winked.

____

Dana practically moaned as the hot shower water hit her back and rolled down the posterior of her thighs. Despite being a little hesitant about it earlier, the heat made her feel so much better, her body relaxing furthermore as it streamed down her sore and aching muscles.

The contraction-like cramps in her lower belly eased a bit and the sharp pain in her spine began to calm down. Her breasts still felt a little sore and full, but she didn’t dare put them directly in the streaming water knowing how sensitive her nipples were, especially now.

Pink water splashed at her feet and circled the drain, but she paid it no mind as she pressed her forehead into the cool tiles and closed her eyes.

She still kept them shut as she felt a waft of coldness against her right side and heard the shower door close. She felt Stella’s warm hands as they smoothed over the tops of her shoulders, her girlfriend’s hot breath against her face. She let go of a smile and reached out, accidentally grazing Stella’s breast as she tried to place her hands on either side of her rib cage.

“Feeling better?” the older woman asked, and Dana could feel her heated breath more profoundly as it rushed against her wet skin.

“Yeah,” Dana replied, opening her eyes. Stella was beautifully naked in front of her, a soft expression on her face.

She also looked good enough to eat.

“A little,” she added as a flush of surprising, arousing hormones hit her head on and waved through her system. “The heat feels nice.”

“I’m glad,” hummed Stella. “Can I help you with anything?”

The first thing that came to Scully’s melting-with-desire mind was that she wanted Stella to fuck her, but the rational part of her brain told her to let Stella help her in other ways first. She was still self-conscious about having sex while she was bleeding, especially after all of the monumental changes her body had gone through in the last few months. It never bothered Stella whenever she was menstruating, and it never bothered Dana when Stella was either – it was merely a self-conscious thing about herself, and despite Stella’s support and the equal amounts of arousal and love in her eyes, she was still hesitant about it. Ever since birthing William, she felt as if her pubic bone was bruised, and that her bleeding was overly abundant – though she knew it was normal – and even though they’d made love a few times since their son was born, she was feeling very insecure and anxious.

Deciding to start with something easy, Dana smiled a grateful curve of her lips, cupped her hands gently over her breasts, and turned around to face the water. She stepped a little closer so that some of the warm water would reach her partner, and then felt as Stella’s fingers grazed her skin.

“Could you rub my back?” she asked, trying to hide the stutter she suddenly found herself with.

“Of course.”

She felt as Stella toed closer and kissed the nape of her neck, smoothing her wet, titian hair to one side. It sent a shiver violently racking through her, the hairs across her body standing on end, making her feel dizzy.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” she whispered.

Stella laughed lowly, teeth grazing the side of Dana’s neck. “I would ask if it’s working but I can tell that it is,” she taunted, feathering her hands down her girlfriend’s spine to elicit more goosebumps.

“Stella…”

“Hmm?” the blonde hummed. Her fingers dipped lower, lightly tracing the dimples just above Scully’s ass.

“You’re supposed to be…” she paused with a gulp, “massaging.”

“Mmm, my apologies.”

As she felt fingers begin to knead her flesh, Dana let out a breath that had been harbored in her lungs. It was getting deliriously hot inside the shower, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop herself if Stella continued to fluster her. Focusing on the relief she felt in her back, she hummed, her head rolling to the side.

After a few minutes, Stella’s fingers moved higher until she was massaging her shoulders, and a deep moan escaped Dana’s lips as she did so.

“That feels so good,” she moaned again. “Mmm, Stel-”

“Do you like that?”

“Yes,” panted Scully, feeling herself getting more worked up as her girlfriend massaged and licked, kissing the side of her neck and nibbling lightly on it.

It made her gasp; an echo amongst the walls of tile.

“Stella…” she whined as the woman whose name she uttered wrapped her arms around her middle. “I don’t know…” she breathed, “but I… God, I want you to touch me more.”

Instantly making up her mind, Scully turned around and pressed their lips together. This was just Stella – the woman whom she loved with her whole entire being. And who was Dana to deny either of them what they wanted? What they – what she – needed.

Somehow knowing exactly what that was, Stella flipped their places and backed her up against the wall, pressing her into it. She returned her lips to Dana’s neck, lapping at the water she found there and pressing her teeth into the fluttering of her jugular. Dana gasped as the cold tiles hit her backside, and she moaned as desire took over her every thought. She no longer felt the crushing ache in her womb, and she no longer cared about anything other than her lover’s enflaming and addicting touch.

“Is this okay?” Stella asked, making Dana smile at her tenderness in making sure she was comfortable and willing.

“Yes,” she breathed back, removing Stella’s hands from her waist and placing them softly on her tender, full breasts. “Ohhh.”

“Too sore?”

“A little. Too full,” Scully mumbled as she reunited their lips.

Stella took her time gently squeezing and thumbing her partner’s nipples, coaxing more gasps and sultry, “oh’s.”

“I could help you with that if you’d like.”

Pulling back, Dana was breathless. “What?” she asked, her eyebrows crinkled.

Stella smiled, her lips laced with lust and love. “Let me help you if I can. If your breasts are too full of milk, let me help ease them for you.”

“Like… help me express them by hand?”

“No,” Stella sounded, her voice low and raspy. “Not by hand.”

Gasping as Stella got down on her knees, Dana didn’t stop her, and she didn’t protest as they held each other’s gaze and Stella stuck out her tongue, leaning in slowly.

“Oh my God,” the redhead heaved. “Oh my God…”

Giving her time to say no, Stella moved languidly – eyes locked, hot tongue extended outward. Surprising herself, Dana didn’t dispute it. Rather, she found her body quivering with anticipatory need, her lips parting to tell Stella, “yes.”

With a wickedly wonderful glint in her eye, Stella huffed a deep noise of ratification and flicked her tongue against her partner’s dark, erect nipple, which looked almost purple in color.

“Oh, fuck…”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh my God…”

Stella licked her nipple again, a little more fervently this time. “Good?” she asked.

Dana nodded, gulping. It astounded her how easily Stella understood her wants and needs more than she did, herself. Needs and desires she hadn’t even entertained, let alone craved before. Stella’s tongue felt like magic against her sensitive nipple, so much so that Dana found herself gushing with arousal.

“More,” she begged, threading her finger’s in Stella’s damp strands, and pulling her closer. “I want you to… more.”

Sensing her needs and the inability to vocalize them, Stella teased her more with the tip of her tongue and then opened her mouth wider. Taking Dana’s thick, tight nipple into her mouth, she sucked.

Knocking her head back against the wall as pleasurable sensations filled her, she gave a deep rumble of a moan and urged Stella on. “God, Stella.”

Stella used her unoccupied hand to cup her other breast and pinched the nipple between her fingers, wiggling it between the pads of her digits until milk dribbled out. She sucked greedily and heartily, and Dana knew she could taste the sweet milk on her tongue as she continuously did so.

“Is that okay, love?” Stella asked after a few moments, un-suctioning her mouth and licking her lips.

Scully whimpered at the loss of contact. She nodded and bit her bottom lip, managing a whiney, “mmm, yes.”

Stella chortled softly and deeply. “I don’t want to tear myself away – you taste marvelous – but I desperately want to make you come.”

“Jesus, Stel.”

She could feel her cunt throbbing.

“Can I touch your clit?”

Yeah, it was more than throbbing right now.

“Yes. Please,” she begged, parting her thighs and resting one leg on the edge of the shower without a trace of hesitation or self-consciousness left.

Licking her lips again, Stella returned her mouth to her girlfriend’s breast and sucked as she slicked a finger through the lips of her sex. She explored the places she loved most, circling Dana’s silky clit with the pad of her finger. She worked her harder and faster, eyes locked as Scully peered down at her with hooded lids.

As she started feeling herself teething on the edge, Stella replaced her mouth with her hand, gently coaxing more milk out with her fingers. She lowered her head next, surprising Dana as tongue met clitoris, and the redhead gasped as she felt pleasure ripple deep into her muscles, taking away every sting of pain.

“OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGoddddddd…”

It felt so fucking good she could barely breathe.

Dana came seconds later with a guttural, soul-crushing moan as Stella slipped a finger inside of her, continuously sucking on her clit until she was over-sensitive from gyrating and coming against her face. Milk sprayed out of her and all over Stella, letting-down as her orgasm piqued. Soon enough, she was pulling Stella’s hair, urging her to stop.

Removing her touch gently, Stella placed a spattering of kisses to her inner thighs and then stood, holding Dana so she wouldn’t fall over or pass out in the heat of it all. “You were incredible. You are so fucking sexy, Dana.”

“Mmm, you were the incredible one.” She could barely breathe the words out, grateful for Stella’s hold around her waist. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Any regrets?” asked Stella, leaning in to kiss her lips.

“No, Stella, please. Not at all.” She dodged her girlfriend's mouth with a laugh, wiping a bit of blood from her bottom lip. “But I’m not gonna kiss your mouth until it’s clean.”

Grinning with a quirk of her brow, the blonde turned the knob for hotter water and thoroughly cleaned her lips. When she turned back around, Dana kissed her roughly.

“Thank you,” she said appreciatively. “That was probably the sexiest thing you have ever done, and it helped so much with the pain.”

Just as Stella was about to reply, a soft little cry could be heard through the baby monitor.

“I’ll get him,” she offered before giving her girlfriend one more deep kiss.

“Thank you.”

When she exited the shower after cleaning herself, Scully found a clean pair of underwear with a pad attached to it, and her favorite pair of cotton pajamas. She smiled to herself and dressed quickly, hearing suckling sounds and deep grunts coming from her son on the other side of the wall.

She found Stella and William on the sofa, their baby guzzling down a warm bottle in his mother’s arms. On the coffee table was a fresh glass of ice water and a banana just for her. Joining her family on the couch, she peeled the banana open, kissed her son’s fuzzy head, and planted a loving kiss upon her girlfriend’s lips.

“I love you both so much.”

[ericspinkhair]

dirty thoughts from a distance

pairing: dom!changmin x virgin!reader, best friends to lovers, college au!

synopsis: you masturbate while thinking of your best friend and he catches you moan out his name

word count: 3.8k

warnings: maybe slight angst, (getting caught) masturbating, mutual masturbation, sex in general ig

a/n: y'all are crazyy! it has barely been 19 days and I have already hit 100 followers🤧 thank you guys so much for your support and sending in requests!!! everytime I see leave me nice messages I feel so encouraged to keep on writing even though there is still a lot of room to improve and I am not always completely satisfied with what I create. I wish all of you a great day and hope that you stay happy and healthy!!

this chapter is especially dedicated to @bangcrispychannie​ and anon who requested this kind of scenario ❤️

masterlist + requests

for three years you wondered why you hadn't lost your virginity yet. it's not like you didn't have enough opportunities since you had been in two relationships so far, both lasted about five to seven months.

the feelings in your first relationship were been mostly one-sided however.

when a guy in your biology class named Minho confessed his crush for you, you thought that the only logical next step was to become a couple. you were quite flattered that he had taken such an interest in you and believed and hoped you would eventually develop feelings for him as well. the problem was you didn't. after not being able to be emotionally let alone physically intimate with him for a few months into your relationship, he finally confronted you and you confessed that you just couldn't bring yourself to see him that way. your relationship came to an end just before becoming a senior in high school.

in your last year, you got close with Seonghwa. you were seat neighbors in your english class and you'd chat all the time. he was perfectly sweet, smart and funny and you instantly got along just fine. you developed an interest in him and he seemed to feel the same way. he asked you out with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and some chocolate and you agreed to being his girlfriend without much thought. you caught yourself falling in love with this boy and didn't shy away from physical affection such as kissing and holding hands. you were convinced you were ready to give yourself to him during prom night but when it came to it you chickened out. a couple of hours before, you had found out that your best friend changmin had broken up with his girlfriend of six months.

for a long time you hadn't been able to decipher why you hadn't slept with Seonghwa then. as time passed, the unpleasant answer became clearer and clearer: you had brought up your hopes.

you had been best friends with changmin basically since you started elementary school. on the first day, he scared you with a stupid horror mask he had sneaked in from home and made you cry. he felt so guilty and was determined to make it up to you and to become friends. you had been inseparable ever since.

when he got his first girlfriend in junior year you were devastated. you convinced yourself that the reason for that was that you had been scared he was going to replace you as his best friend but in reality you had felt jealousy.

you were suppressing your feelings because if you confessed, things might become awkward. there was no way changmin could ever like you the same way.

all of this became more difficult as you moved in together for college. you were sharing an apartment now and every day, it became harder to avoid your growing and troublesome feelings. your heart would beat faster whenever he walked around shirtless (which was most of the time) and you decided to try to ignore him. this was especially difficult since you wanted to appreciate his physique. when had he become this handsome? changmin had been dancing all his life so he had always been fit but now that he was majoring in it and training most of the time, his body had developed and he had become super toned and his abs were more prominent.

he'd often make his way into your dreams and you'd let him do inappropriate things with you. you'd wake up wet and needy and even more confused. you were ashamed of seeing him this way. this was not how one normally thought about their best friend.

it was a wednesday morning and you were eating breakfast when changmin joined you in the kitchen. he flashed you a big smile, making his pretty dimples appear which you didn't see as you did not look at him.

'good morning, y/n!' he greeted you in a good mood. you just grunted in response, intensely staring at the cereal swimming in your bowl.

the fact that you couldn't even spare him a glance hurt changmin but he tried to not let it show. he wanted to get you to talk to him.

'do you want to watch a movie and play some board games today after class?' he proposed. you hadn't spent a lot of time together ever since you had become aware of your feelings.

'I have an essay due tomorrow,' you quickly made up as an excuse. the corners of changmin's mouth twitched but you didn't notice as you were too preoccupied with doing anything that didn't include looking at him.

'then maybe on the weekend. or next-' 'I'll be busy,' you interjected. 'I have lots to do.' you stressed the lots to emphasize there was absolutely no way you would be able to hang out with him any time soon.

'umm… okay. I'll be going to class.' he told you dejected. your heart sank but you didn't respond. he was wondering whether he had done anything to make you upset but he couldn't wrap his mind around it. this had been going on for a while and he was starting to become desperate.

when you first got the apartment you spent every free minute of the day together, happy that you finally moved out and could be with each other 24/7, but then you stopped talking to him completely out of nowhere. from one day to the other, you would avoid leaving your room when he was outside and barely talked to him anymore. at first, changmin thought you were just stressed and that you'd eventually warm up again when exam season came to an end but a few months had passed and, if anything, the situation was even worse than before.

you were watching the time and after ten minutes you decided to leave for classes as well. you had started doing this so you couldn't possibly catch up to him and risk having a conversation.

'hey, y/n, what's up!' your friend chanhee hugged you when you arrived on campus. you were both majoring in fashion design and were getting along on well since the beginning of the first semester.

you sighed exasperatedly. 'changmin's up.' you puffed your cheeks and pouted. chanhee nodded knowingly. he was the only person who was aware of your little secret and that was only because you had accidentally drunk confessed the whole story to him at your first college party.

'you know maybe you should tell him. this whole thing is clearly not making you happy and I saw changmin walk by a few minutes ago. if I had to guess I'd say he was in an even worse mood than you. someone accidentally ran into him and he pushed them hard and called them names. it's not like him to overreact like this. he's usually super collected. I think you finally managed to break his spirit,' chanhee reported to you.

this had never been what you intended. why did everything have to be so difficult? you didn't want to be the cause of your best friend's unhappiness.

'he must feel like I despise him. but I cannot confess to him, that would be the end of our friendship!' you were constantly torn apart by this dilemma.

'well, if you're not gonna act on your feelings, maybe try to move on? find something casual or serious with someone new? then you'd forget all about changmin and you'd be able to go back to acting normal around him' he suggested.

chanhee's advice didn't sound too bad. if you couldn't get with changmin then you had to de-crush yourself and find somebody different to focus your emotional energy on. but on who?

'is there anyone you could think of?' you ask chanhee. he had great taste in practically everything so you highly valued his opinion.

'hmm, you could potentially try younghoon hyung? I've seen him eyeing you for weeks now and he even told me thinks your gorgeous.' he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

younghoon was a pretty art student, whom chanhee knew from high school. you didn't talk to him often, mostly at parties and he wasn't exactly your type but you tried to remember shouldn't judge him by his first impression when you haven't even got to know him.

chanhee pulled out his phone and soon you felt yours vibrate in your back pocket. you looked at him questioningly.

'I sent you his number in case you're interested,' he explained proudly. he put his hand on your shoulder and you could see the concern in his eyes. 'you really need to get over changmin if don't want to confess,' he insisted firmly.

so you decided to text younghoon during class. he was very polite and you thought he was cute as he seemed excited to talk to you. you agreed to hang out sometime to get to know each other and decided to meet up friday for dinner.

after the end of your classes, you walked home to warm up yesterday's leftovers. to your dismay, changmin had also decided to come home for once. since you began acting all weird and refused to eat with him, he usually spent lunch time with his dance mates as they had practice after anyway. why had he decided to come here today? your question was answered when he ran up to you, smiling from ear to ear and you noticed he was hiding something behind his back.

'you know how there is a blackpink concert downtown on friday? guess what!' he held up two tickets. surely you would at least agree to spend time with him if it meant being able to see your favorite group, right?

he must have gone through so much trouble to get tickets for you and since blackpink were your favorite music artists you were actually contemplating on going but then you remembered you had made plans.

'I can't. I'm going out with younghoon friday night.'

'kim younghoon?' he raised an eyebrow skeptically.

'why would you to be spending time together? I didn't know he was even talking to you,' he questioned you. anger was boiling inside of you.

'maybe it's because you don't know everything about me,' you snapped at him. you were aware that you were being harsh but somehow his words hurt you. why did he doubt you? did he think you weren't able to get with someone as awesome and popular as younghoon? did he not consider you pretty enough?

the microwave beeped, indicating your food was ready, making you snap out of your thoughts.

'y/n, I swear, that's not what I meant.' he stepped directly in front of you so you were forced to look at him. you stared deep into his pleading eyes as you closed the microwave door, turned your back to him, stomped to your room and slammed the door shut, leaving changmin behind in the kitchen.

your whole body was tense as you listened closely to any sounds coming from outside and felt relieved when you heard the front door close. feeling sad and depressed always made you feel tired so you decided to take a nap to forget about all the negative feelings.

when you woke up you were horny af. you had a dream about changmin taking you on the kitchen counter and now your panties were completely soaked with your arousal.

desperate, you pulled them down and tossed them somewhere to the side. it didn't matter. you needed relief now.

you closed your eyes as you slowly started rubbing your clit, imagining it was changmin's slender fingers touching you instead. your imagination was running wild and you sped up the tempo.

eventually, you plunged your middle finger and then your index finger inside you, pretending that changmin was stretching your walls with his cock.

you moaned loudly and picked up the pace, chasing your high. oh, how much you wished he was the one making you come.

'yes?' you opened your eyes and gasped loudly as you saw changmin watching you from the doorway. you hecticly pulled up your blankets to your chest to cover your naked lower body. for how fucking long had he been standing there?

'oh fuck, changmin...' you cursed out loud.

to your surpise he laughed. 'oh, is this why you have been so distant? were you embarrassed about imagining doing dirty things with me?' your cheeks were burning red and you were unable to move a muscle.

'you know, if you had told me you were thinking of me while doing it then I could've helped you out already. that would have spared both of us a lot of frustration.' he stepped into the room and pulled the sheets away, his hungry eyes fixed on your desperately dripping pussy. you tried to hide it with your hands.

'n-no… what are you saying? aren't we best friends? ' you couldn't comprehend what was happening right now. the way he was acting was so unexpected that you didn't know how to react or what to say. he brushed his hand over your burning cheeks. his eyes were conveying disparity.

'but what if I told you I don't care? that I like you? that I see you as more than just my best friend?'

'wait, you like me?' you couldn't believe your ears. was he actually reciprocating your feelings?

he groaned in exasperation. 'y/n, why did you think I ended things with my ex out of the blue?' you shrugged your shoulders as you weren't sure. you had thought it was because she had lost interest in him, at least that's what changmin had told you back then.

'because I realized I was in love you, you dumbass. how could I be together with someone if I had feelings for someone else?'

'I actually ruined my chances of having sex with seonghwa for the first time for the same reason. it was just after I had found out about the breakup,' you confessed, relieved that you were finally beginning to make sense of everything.

he climbed onto the mattress and positioned his knees next to your closed legs, leaning his hands on the wall behind you so that he was hovering above you.

'I'm sorry that you lost that opportunity. let me make it up to you,' he whispered with his face mere inches from yours and then kissed you. losing all self-restraint, you immediately pulled his body closer so that he was straddling you. after all these months filled with sexual frustration and just frustration in general, you were desperate for his touch. your hands wandered under his dance shirt and you were finally able to touch those abs you had been secretly admiring for so long.

you broke the kiss to take off both of your shirts and changmin skillfully unclasped your bra.

while his tongue was exploring the insides of your mouth, his hands were kneading your breasts, occasionally rubbing and pinching your hardened nipples. you felt his hard dick press against your lower abdomen as he grinded himself into you to get friction.

after having dreamt about this moment for so long, you felt impatient. this was too good to be true and you were scared that if you didn't act quick, your bubble would bust.

without thinking twice about it, you pulled down the hem of his sweatpants and boxers just far enough so you could easily reach inside and whip out his dick. you stopped for a moment to admire his length. it looked even better than you had ever imagined in any of your wildest dreams.

he sat upright, leaning on the wall behind you, while you stroked his cock. he was sensitive to your touch and not shy to show you how well you were doing by responding with moans.

'fuck, y/n. you're doing amazing.' his praise made you eager to show him just how good you could make him feel. your lack of experience was barely noticeable as the adrenaline flowing through your veins was guiding you.

you tapped his thighs to signalize him to inch closer. that way your mouth had easier access to his dick. you hesitantly licked up his length and were fascinated by how he tasted. wanting to have more of it, you swirl your tongue around his pink tip. changmin eventually became impatient and forced more of his dick inside your mouth so you tried to take as much of him as you could but your gag reflex made it difficult for you. instead, you worked your hands where your mouth couldn't do its job.

not wanting you to feel neglected, changmin reached behind him to stimulate your clit. he skillfully started rubbing all the right places and you moaned around him, sending vibrations through his cock.

he couldn't take this stimulation for much longer before he had to force himself to pull out of your mouth.

'wow, you almost made me come there.' he panted heavily. 'but I want to be inside you first.' you got lost in his touch as he placed a long kiss on your lips but a sudden thought brought you back to reality.

'wait, I don't have a condom,' you informed him embarrassed. you hadn't planned to lose your virginity any time soon so you hadn't bought any. did that mean the end of this wonderful dream?

but changmin laughed light heartedly. 'no need to worry. hold up, let me get some from my room.' you relaxed again as he disappeared and came back shortly with a condom wrapper in his hand.

you were prepared for him to start right away and took a deep breath in preparation but he didn't do anything.

'I don't think it's a good idea to start yet since I haven't even prepared you. the last thing I would want to do is hurt you so just lay back.'

he positioned your legs over his shoulders so your hips were hovering in the air. you felt his warm breath against your vagina before he drove his tongue inside you, seeing for himself how wet he had made you and tasting your arousal. you clasped your hands over your mouth to stop yourself from releasing any sounds.

'don't do that. I want to hear how good I make you feel,' changmin complained.

when he slid two fingers inside you, you couldn't hold it in anymore and let out some kind of aroused squeal. you felt self-conscious but it seemed like changmin was only more eager to please you.

at the same time, his tongue was abusing your swollen clit and it was impossible for you to hold back the curses that were spilling out of your mouth. the pleasure he was making you feel was a whole different sensation from anything else you've experienced before.

'more please, changmin!' you begged. you wanted more. you needed more. you needed him.

he carefully lowered your hips back down. 'are you sure you want this?' he asked you, waiting for you to clearly consent to having sex with him.

'I want you. you, and only you,' you reassured him and brought his face closer to kiss him. changmin's typical bright smile formed and you felt the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

he positioned himself at your entrance, swiping his dick between your folds like a credit card to coat it with your juices.

you gripped his arms tightly as he pushed in. he slowly continued until all of him was buried deep inside you before stopping. the feeling of a whole penis inside of you was very different from your or changmin's fingers. it filled you up to the brim and was rubbing all the good spots. while it initially caused you a bit of discomfort, it wasn't overwhelming and it also felt good in a weird way.

when your walls finished adjusting to his length, he began to steadily move his dick in and out.

changmin intensely studied your face. he couldn't believe that after all those years you were finally close to being his. he wanted to savor every single expression you made while he was inside you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso, trying to push him deeper. he slammed his cock back inside you.

'you are mine,' he declared and started going harder and faster.

'I am yours,' you confirmed and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

because of the extensive foreplay and your own masturbation prior to this, it didn't take long until your walls were tightening around his dick and you felt an orgasm approaching.

driven wild by you clenching around his cock, he thrusted into you even faster. you rested your sweaty foreheads against each other as both of you almost came simultaneously.

changmin kissed the top of your head before he pulled out and threw away the used condom. you opened your arms and he let himself fall right into your embrace.

'I know this might be kind of weird to talk about right now but do you want to be my girlfriend?' Changmin asked you. he still wasn't too sure what all of this meant for your relationship and he desperately needed to know where your mind was at.

'after having liked you for all this time I'd be an idiot to say no.' 'you're an idiot anyway,' he teased. you slapped his arm.

'hey! I'm not the one who ignored you for a couple of months because my hormones are out of control.' you hid your face in the crook of his neck, too embarrassed face him.

'I'm really sorry for that. you just mean so much to me and I didn't want my feelings to get in the way of our friendship.' he stroked your hair.

'I do understand that. if I hadn't heard you moan my name today I wouldn't have acted on my feelings either. but all is good now, right?' 'right.' you smiled and placed a small kiss below his ear.

'there is still one thing you need to do,' changmin tried to remind you. you looked at him, puzzled.

'what do you mean?' 'younghoon,' he hinted. you immediately started looking for your phone. that date was definitely going to have to be cancelled. there was no need for you to find a distraction anymore since you had been granted your wish after all.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: as someone who’s been tormented for being a nerd, you’ve never viewed your friendly teasing towards your best friend seonghwa as bullying. but that is until he completely changes his style and image in school, confronting you about your past behaviour, so you have no choice but to admit the real reason why you’ve been making fun of him...

pairing: popular boy!seonghwa x nerd!reader

genre: high school!AU (the characters are 18 for the spicy parts huehehe), best friends to fake dating to lovers, angst, romance, smut, fluff

warnings: friendly teasing, clichéd/unrealistic portrayal of high school dynamics, hwa does kabedon on yn like once, seonghwa’s a bit of a tsundere, fake dating, hints of possessiveness, slightly problematic remarks, yn is briefly hwa’s slave?! (no, i will not elaborate), bullying, mean girls, insults, hair-pulling, kicking, death threats, some swearing, self-blame, power play, overuse of pet names (princess, baby, little girl, etc.), sir kink (i won’t apologize lol), begging, yunho being nosy (yes, that’s a warning), mention of hypothetical collars, insecurities, making out, loss of virginities, lots of kissing, soft dom!hwa, eating out, fingering, blowjob, consensual protected sex, dirty talk, praising, aftercare, crying, hurt&comfort, a lot of dorky references (cuz that’s me, after all), jumping off a balcony (don’t try this at home!), happy ending

author’s note: will i ever stop bullying poor hwa’s kermit hoodie? no. jk, i lov him so much, he’s so talented & gorgeous no matter what he wears ;-;

disclaimer: all jokes aside, i do not in any way condone bullying and this work is entirely fictional for entertainment purposes! i’ve been physically and emotionally tormented in school and though i have not talked much about it, i do not wish such an experience to anyone! treating people with kindness is cool and i hope everyone spreads more love! ❤️

word count: 9.4k

Having been best friends with Seonghwa for four years now (ever since your first year in high school), you couldn’t help but making fun of every little adorable thing he did. And honestly, you admired his patience when it came to putting up with your incessant teasing. Diligently cleaning up everything after him? You’d call him a neat freak. Not being able to drink coffee? You’d call him a teacup loser. 

So, when he started wearing that green hoodie of his to school, you couldn’t resist the temptation to call him Kermit the frog. And at first, it all started as a joke. But then the nickname kinda stuck and you just kept addressing him as Kermit, even if he wasn’t wearing the delectable green hoodie. And at one point, you could tell that poor Seonghwa was not a huge fan of the whole thing. But he never called you out on it or told you to stop. He never teased you back for being a hopeless nerd who studied 24/7 and read books for fun. So, you kept going.

Until the summer before your last year in high school arrived. Sadly, Seonghwa was going to be out of the country for the whole vacation. You were going to miss him terribly, you realized. You had become so used to seeing him everyday that you couldn’t imagine how you’d last three months without being able to see his pretty face all the time. You’d occasionally text him memes and ask him what he was up to. But as the summer was coming to an end, his replies became less and less frequent, more and more concise. You kept wondering if you’d done something wrong. It couldn’t be the Kermit thing, you began telling yourself. After all, it was normal to tease your best friend every once in a while. Right?

When the first day of your last year in high school came, you were nervously anticipating the moment when you’d see Seonghwa again. Summer without him had been so boring and you couldn’t wait to hug him again and find a new thing to joke about.

The second you saw him, you instinctively knew there would be no more joking around. Seonghwa practically walked into the school hallway like he owned the place. He’d completely changed his style and overall image. Gone were the dorky hoodies you secretly loved so much. Instead, they were replaced by a black leather jacket. Gone were the casual sweatpants he looked so good in. In their place were dark jeans that made him look kinda dangerous. And the whole confidence with which he carried himself was just totally different. 

If you had known that a summer abroad could change a person so much, you would have tried harder at convincing him to stay in the country. On top of it all, he was now hanging out with a bunch of popular a-holes that you had never talked to before. Honestly, you couldn’t even gather the courage to approach your best friend. He looked so distant and unfamiliar that you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Especially when you heard him laughing at the cool kids’ jokes. That should have been you...

You remembered when you were the one making him giggle, as if it was a century ago, when in reality it was just a couple of months. You kept sighing during the whole day, not daring to even talk to him. If he wanted to still hang out with you after his sudden “change in status”, he would, you kept convincing yourself. But he didn’t. In fact, he ignored you the whole day, making you feel like shit.

Just as you were leaving the school building in a hurry, mentally prepared for an evening of crying your eyes out and eating ice cream, you felt a hand grabbing you tightly. Turning around, you were surprised to find Seonghwa’s eyes staring back at you.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted you calmly.

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you responded dumbly.

“What? No witty comeback?” Seonghwa scoffed, smirking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you gonna bully me and call me names again? Kermit? Teacup loser? Neat freak? What’s it gonna be this time?” he spat out, pushing you against the school wall and extending his arms to touch the cold bricks so that you would feel trapped.

“Bully you?” you whispered in disbelief. “H-hwa, I wasn’t...I didn’t m-mean...”

“Oh, yeah?” he mocked your stuttering self. “Then, why did you say all these things, huh?”

“You know why,” you replied.

“No, I don’t. So, tell me right now or I swear, I can make your existence a living hell,” Seonghwa threatened.

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you cried out. “I like you so that’s why I’ve been teasing you. Because if I didn’t, I would have to admit how attractive I find all your habits. How adorable it is when you used to tidy your desk and how sexy you looked in that damned green hoodie. There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

You were so frustrated with the way he ignored you all day only to accuse you of bullying him that you ducked your head swiftly beneath his arm, simultaneously bending your knees, and, thus, successfully escaping from Seonghwa’s ambush.

“Y/N, wait!” he called after you, but you were running too fast and luck was on your side, as the bus arrived at that exact same moment, allowing you to get on it, before he could.

You couldn’t sleep much that night, tormented by the fact Seonghwa had confused your friendly jokes with bullying and how foolishly you’d confessed your feelings for him. You were certain that your affections were unrequited and now that he had this whole new position in the school hierarchy, he would undoubtedly make fun of you for them. You were even considering transferring to another school to avoid the potential embarrassment.

In the morning, no sooner had you finished breakfast in the comfort of your room than you heard loud honks. They were unlike the ones in your dad’s car so you couldn’t help but wonder what jerk had decided to park in front of your house and make your day even worse.

“Sweetie,” your mom informed you a bit after. “Your friend Seonghwa is here. He said he’ll drive you to school today. As promised.”

“He did?” you mumbled in confusion. But maybe because you weren’t ready to talk to your mom yet about what happened yesterday, you lied. “Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot.”

Hurriedly, you grabbed your bag and practically sprinted downstairs. You were curious to see what he wanted. And that’s exactly what you asked the minute you entered his car.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aw, no good morning for me, princess?” Seonghwa pouted and God, you hated how cute you found him after the way he’d treated you the previous day. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he rolled his eyes, starting the engine. “I’m driving you to school.”

“I can see that. But why?” you hissed.

“Well, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he groaned. “If you’re so insistent on finding out, I’ll tell you. Ever since you told me how you felt yesterday, I’ve been thinking...And I’ve come to the conclusion that you have two options. Option number one is to enjoy your hellish last year of high school. You’ve had your fair share of teasing me so I’m definitely going to enjoy telling everyone about your little crush on me. It’s going to be so much fun to embarrass you in front of the whole school.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? Seonghwa was supposed to be your best friend! Why was he suddenly acting like you were worth less than a dirty rug? Was it possible that he had changed so much in the span of three months? Or was he always like that? Had you been blinded by his good looks? No, that definitely wasn’t the case. Seonghwa was the sweetest guy you’d ever known. How did he get so...cold? Cold enough to chill your bones.

“And what’s option number two?” you grunted, already anticipating the worst.

“So, there’s this annoying girl in our class I want to avoid at all costs. Just because her parents are doing business with mine does not mean I’m into her. Option number two is for us to pretend we’re dating in school. Considering how much you like me, I’m assuming it won’t be very difficult for you to pretend. If you agree, that is.”

What a jerk...You shared your sincere feelings with your best friend and that’s the first thing that crossed his mind? To use you in order to avoid some random girl? If it was any other guy, you would have said no. If you weren’t desperate for even a fraction of Seonghwa’s time and attention, you would have said no. If you weren’t so pathetically whipped for him, you would have said no.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “For how long do you need me to be your fake girlfriend?”

“Just until graduation. Then, we’ll fake break up and each go our separate ways. How does that sound?”

It sounded terrible! You wanted Seonghwa to be a part of your life forever. But with the way he was treating you, you weren’t confident he felt the same way anymore.

“Sounds great,” you lied, because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing your thoughts. You’d never be perceived as weak again.

The second you walked into school, Seonghwa’s arm wrapped possessively around your shoulder, everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like high-schoolers had no better thing to occupy their time with but to gossip around the latest dating news. If you weren’t enjoying his company so much, you would have found their reactions pathetic. And somewhat unnerving.

“When did you two lovebirds start seeing each other?” one of Seonghwa’s popular friends Yunho asked.

“Oh, you know what they say. A girl and a guy can’t stay just friends for long,” Seonghwa responded.

You internally rolled your eyes. Your best friend before the summer would have never said such a thing. Whatever the reason for his current behaviour was, you would get to the bottom of it. And right now, you felt like going along with this whole fake dating thing was your best chance at unraveling the mystery.

For the first day of your little arrangement, everything seemed to be going fine. Everyone was staring at you two but you didn’t mind. All you cared about was him. However, soon enough Seonghwa started asking you for weird things.

“Carry my bag for me.” / “Get me a drink from the vending machine, will you?” / “Bring me a snack from the supermarket across the street.” / “Oh, and for my friends, too, doll.”

Seriously, it was getting infuriating. You no longer felt like you were his bestie. You didn’t even feel like you were his fake girlfriend. At this point, you had practically become his slave! Running any errand and carrying his stuff for him. But what was the alternative? If you refused to play your part in this pretend dating scheme, he could easily turn against you and make fun of you in front of the whole school. So, you kept your mouth shut and swallowed your pride.

One evening, around a month after the fake dating agreement had started, you had stayed in the library a bit longer to prepare for an upcoming assignment. By the time you were out of the school building, you supposed that Seonghwa had already gone home. Frankly, the only nice thing he was intent on doing for you was driving you to school and back to your place most of the days.

As you were making your way towards the bus stop, you had the strangest suspicion you were being followed. Not daring to turn around, you started walking faster. But unfortunately, your attackers also sped up and soon enough, you were surrounded by a group of angry faces. Their leader was obviously Eunhee, the most popular girl in the whole school. And coincidentally, this was also the girl whose parents were doing business with Seonghwa’s parents. The very reason you were fake dating your best friend in the first place.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bookshrimp,” she mocked you, sticking a sharp nail into your chest. You didn’t bother correcting her that the right term was bookworm. You were already in enough trouble as it was. For some reason, teasing Seonghwa had been easy because you meant well and you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you. Not really. Because he knew how badly you’d been bullied in middle school. But now that you were met with so many threatening figures, you froze rightaway, unable to defend yourself.

“Just l-leave me alone,” you stammered.

“Aw, aren’t you a little pathetic shrimpie?” Eunhee cooed and started pulling your hair harshly and kicking you onto the ground. The other girls were holding you down so that you wouldn’t fight back. “Did you seriously believe you can steal Seonghwa from me? We’re meant to be together and if you stand in our way, I will fucking kill you!”

“S-stop, you’re hurting me!” you exclaimed sorrowfully. You tried your best to shield yourself and push her away but her loyal minions were preventing you from doing so. Just as Eunhee was about to slap you across the face, you witnessed as her threatening hand was stopped mid-air by the interloper whose features you couldn’t quite discern in the dark. But whose voice you would recognize anywhere.

“You think you’re so brave?” Seonghwa yelled at Eunhee and her friends. “Ganging up on her like that? Six against one? You’re the pathetic ones.”

“Hwa, we were just trying to teach her a lesson. She should learn her place, after all,” Eunhee tried to explain.

“A lesson?” he scoffed. “You dumbasses can’t even pass Calculus and you want to teach the smartest girl in our school a lesson?” your heart melted with warmth at how highly he thought of you. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“You won’t tell my dad, right?” Eunhee was suddenly on the defensive. She’d probably be in big trouble if he found out how his precious daughter was behaving in school.

“Get out of my sight right now or I’ll tell the whole country,” Seonghwa threatened through gritted teeth. (Later on, he actually did tell her dad about the incident and Eunhee, along with her followers, were suspended from school for two weeks. Oh, and their rich parents cut off their money, which was pretty impressive an accomplishment). And so, the vicious girls scattered like roaches in daylight. Pulling you onto your feet, Seonghwa grabbed your hand and started walking towards his car which you somehow hadn’t noticed parked nearby. Getting inside, he started the engine immediately but his hands were clutching the steering wheel so hard you were feeling a bit scared. You had never seen your best friend so angry. Well, maybe the only other time that came close was when you were telling him about your past experiences with bullying...

“Are you mad at me?” you asked sheepishly.

“At you?” he chuckled harshly. “Why would I be mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t know...”

“Why didn’t you fight them back?” Seonghwa inquired.

“I tried, but I was reminded of middle school and just...froze. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m not blaming you,” he replied calmly. “I was just wondering. Cause I know you’ve been going to self-defense classes. And I thought you were making progress. I mean, the last time I came to watch, you were pretty good.”

That was before the summer. Of course it was. Still, you were touched by the fact that he remembered. Despite acting like he didn’t care, you instinctively knew he did.

“I mean, I was,” you said. “But I panicked.”

Seonghwa let go of the wheel with one hand and placed it on your bare knee, rubbing calming circles around it. You two were alone so you were certain this was no longer the fake dating thing. This was just your best friend being there for you when you needed him the most.

“If anyone tries that shit again, just tell them you’re my girlfriend, alright? They have to be idiots to mess with you,” he spoke angrily.

“Fake girlfriend,” you reminded him sadly.

“That’s none of their business,” he replied, but didn’t correct you. Oh, how badly you wished to be his real girlfriend. To show him how much you cared for him.

“Why did you change so much over the summer?” you suddenly asked, while Seonghwa was driving you home.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seonghwa responded harshly. “You don’t like my green hoodie and you also don’t like my leather jacket? There’s really no satisfying you, is there?”

“I didn’t mean your clothes,” you mumbled. “Just...your overall attitude towards me. Before the summer you used to let me squeeze your cheeks and sit in your lap and now you seem so...unapproachable. I’m just saying, we were closer when I was your best friend than we are now that I’m your fake girlfriend.”

Seonghwa stopped the car abruptly, making you blink in shock.

“I changed because I was sick of you treating me like a little boy and I wanted you to start seeing me as a man,” he admitted but without looking into your eyes.

“W-what are you saying?” you swallowed nervously.

“Nevermind.”

“No, you have to talk to me, Hwa!” you insisted desperately. “If you still consider me your best friend, be honest with me. Please.”

“This,” he gestured vaguely at you as he finally met your gaze. “This is exactly why I changed so much, Y/N. I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

His cruel words hurt you more than anything you’d ever experienced in your life. More than all the bullying, the slapping and getting pushed against a wall. Losing your best friend was your worst fear. But you had promised yourself to never be weak again. So the second he said that, you pulled the handle of the side door, attempting to get out of his car. Before you could do that, Seonghwa grabbed your hand, effectively keeping you in place.

“I want to be your boyfriend. For real this time,” he elaborated.

You stared at him in utter confusion.

“But...when I confessed, you acted like you didn’t care. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Forget how I acted. I only offered the fake dating shit because I wanted to get closer to you again. Make up for the lost time during the summer. Do you honestly think I give a fuck about what Eunhee thinks or says about me? I just used that as an excuse. I’ve told her I’m not into her hundreds of times. And yes, maybe I have changed. Not because I don’t care about you. But because I do. You used to gush about Count Dracula and Darth Vader so much that I thought if I became the bad guy, you’d finally notice me. I wanted so terribly to impress you and make you stop seeing me as your adorable best friend that I got too lost in the feeling of holding power over you...Too lost to notice you liked me all along, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you whispered teary-eyed. “I do,” correcting yourself. “H-hwa, I’m so sorry to break it to you but-”

“If you reject me, I won’t be responsible for attempted murder,” Seonghwa interrupted you jokingly.

“I’m so sorry to break it to you,” you repeated with a sly smirk. “But no matter how hard you try to change, I will always see you as my adorable best friend. And though I have to admit I did stop teasing you temporarily, that was only because you suddenly started behaving like the dangerously sexy king of the high school. Can you blame me for feeling a little intimidated? I know I’ve said this before but I didn’t think me teasingly calling you Kermit would go this far. I never meant to hurt you, Hwa.”

“I know you didn’t, princess,” Seonghwa whispered, gently stroking your cheeks.

“And yes,” you smiled shyly, leaning into his touch.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to be your real girlfriend. It would be a dream come true.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, as if the very idea seemed amusing to him. “How badly do you want it?”

“So badly, I would do anything for you, sir,” you uttered the last word without thinking much, your brain somehow recalling a time when you two had discussed how you’d enjoy being called by a potential significant other. In retrospect, that wasn’t really a thing best friends generally talked about.

“Sir?” Seonghwa grinned, leaning his head against your forehead. “Keep that up and your real girlfriend status will be confirmed.”

“I want to kiss you so much,” you were on the verge of begging. Oh, screw it. “Please, please, let me kiss you.”

He didn’t respond, just connected your lips with his own softly, taking his time with you. It was pure magic. You had thought about kissing your best friend thousands of times. But nothing compared to the reality. Parting your lips further to let his tongue in, you physically couldn’t prevent yourself from moaning into his mouth, overwhelmed by how good it felt. How insanely intoxicating he tasted. How you were burning alive and it would be the sweetest death imaginable.

“Not if I kiss you first,” Seonghwa said once he broke the kiss apart. “Oh, wait, I just did.”

What the hell...had just happened? Sneaking a peak at the time, you were suddenly panicking by how late it was.

“Holy shit, my parents are going to kill me!” you exclaimed. “Can you please drive me home?”

“Sure thing, princess,” he laughed, increasingly amused by your flustered self. “That’s exactly what I was intending to do anyways. I’m not in the habit of keeping little girls past their bed time.”

“Shut up, I’m not a little girl!” you complained. “I’m just a few months younger than you. Asshole.”

“Hey! Is that any way to speak to your devoted boyfriend?” Seonghwa scolded you teasingly.

Oh, God. You loved the sound of that. Your best friend was now your boyfriend. It still felt unreal.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewled apologetically, already knowing how to make him weak for you with just one tiny word. “And thank you for taking me home.”

“Anytime,” Seonghwa smiled. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

You could get used to it. Reaching forward to open the door for you, he whispered in your ear:

“I’m taking you out on our first date. Doll yourself up for me, will you?”

You nodded, your heart beating too fast to actually manage a verbal response. After you got inside and suffered a brief interrogation from your parents (using the library+extra assignments excuse), you hurried up the stairs, took a quick shower and then went to bed. No sooner had you closed your eyes than your phone buzzed with notifications.

Kermit the Frog: You still up?

Kermit the Frog: For fear of sounding lame, I moss you already

Kermit the Frog: *Miss...damn autocorrect

You chuckled upon seeing his messages. Whatever demon possessed you to still keep that nickname in your chat, you knew you had to change it immediately. If he saw it on your first date tomorrow, you would never hear the end of it.

You: I’m awake, yes

You: And I moss you too 😉

You purposefully misspelled the word to tease him. After all, it was only in order.

Boyfie 🐸: That obnoxious Kermit nickname better be gone by tomorrow

He texted as if he’d read your mind and you gasped in surprise.

Boyfie 🐸: Or we’re having our first couple fight!!

You: How did you know?!?

Boyfie 🐸: Not my fault you keep your phone unlocked sometimes

Boyfie 🐸: I’m not kidding, change it right now 😡

You: Changed it already

You texted him back quickly, sending him a screenshot.

You: Can I at least keep the frog emoji? 🥺

Boyfie 🐸: NO!!! REMOVE IT OR WE BREAK UP 😡😡😡

You: Damnit, Hwa, your angery Aries is showing...okay, fineee

You sent another screenshot of the now changed emoji.

You: Happy now?

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Much better, princess 🤗🤗🤗

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Now go to sleep, we have early classes tomorrow

You: Wow, so bossy. Okay, sir, I’m going

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Good night, my baby 😘

You: Staaahp, ohmygosh. And good night, Hwa 🥺

The next morning you ran outside faster than The Flash as soon as you heard the oh-so-familiar honks. When you saw Seonghwa waiting there to pick you up, your heart did a backflip as you excitedly took the passenger seat.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” you greeted him and kissed his cheek. “This still feels so strange.”

“Well, you better get used to it, doll. Wow, you really cleaned up nicely today,” he complimented your pastel pink dress. “Not that you usually don’t! You’re always gorgeous, I just meant that you’re especially gorgeous and...nope, that also sounds wrong. Okay, I shut up now.”

“Relax,” you giggled. “It’s fine. I appreciate the effort. You don’t look so bad yourself. Oh, who am I kidding? You’re practically sex on legs 24/7. I think it’s time for me to shut up now.”

“You’re so cute when you get flustered. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Just you,” you admitted.

Once you walked into the school, it was like everyone noticed the subtle change in your dynamic. Because Seonghwa did something he never did before. He carried your bag and gave you his leather jacket! And Hwa’s friends were immediately onto you like bees to honey.

“I mean, I knew you guys were dating,” Seonghwa’s friend Yunho observed. “But I never saw the chemistry before, to be honest. Until now. I mean, come on, Y/N was like a loyal puppy, always following Hwa around.”

“Hey, don’t give him any ideas!” you joked.

“Too late. Already ordered the collar,” Seonghwa winked.

“Kinky. Can’t tell if I’m into it or want to cut off my ears,” Yunho grinned. “Probably both.”

“Nice chat, but we gotta head to class, Yu,” Seonghwa said because his friend was in a different class.

“See you for lunch?” Yunho suggested.

“Can’t. Already made plans with this little girl,” Hwa tilted his head towards you.

“Whoo, enjoy, then!”

“It’s not what it sounds like!” you groaned, feeling uncharacteristically embarassed.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa smirked mysteriously and pulled you towards the room you had class in.

“Nothing involving collars and puppies, I assure you!” you yelled (perhaps a little too loudly), twisting your head, not wanting to give Yunho and the rest of Seonghwa’s friends the wrong idea.

When your classes for the day were over, Seonghwa led you towards his car once again. You were a bit nervous to make a good impression on your first date. Even though it was silly. Your best friend of four years had surely made a first impression a long time ago.

“Where are we going?” you asked to break the awkward silence.

“It’s a surprise, princess. Can you be patient for me?”

“I can,” you promised dutifully and placed your tiny hand on top of his. “Anything for you, sir.”

Seonghwa lost focus on the road for the briefest of moments in order to give you a warning look. One look and that was all you needed to keep you quiet and obedient. Eventually, you realized where he was taking you. Though you hadn’t been to his place for a couple of months now, you couldn’t forget how the drive to Seonghwa’s home looked.

“I dressed myself up and we’re just going to your place?” you hmphed in playful annoyance. “So much for our glamorous first date.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of my cooking skills. Shit, I sorta ruined the surprise, didn’t I?”

“Aww, you were planning to cook for me on our first date? Hwaaa, I’ve only had you as a boyfriend for less than 24 hours and you’re already pulling out the big guns! I don’t mean to push my luck but if you’re cooking now, I’m trembling to witness our one month anniversary.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“You’re very ambitious to think you can put up with me for an entire month.”

”Hwa, sweetie, I’ve put up with you for four years.”

“Not as your boyfriend, you haven’t.”

“We’ll talk again in 30 days,” you vowed enigmatically.

“Here we are,” Seonghwa announced once he parked in front of his home. “My parents are currently at work so you don’t need to worry about...well, anything, really.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” for some reason his words made you even more worried.

“Nothing, I just meant you can...like, be yourself. There’s no one to impress.”

“There’s you,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget your parents already know me. And besides, you’re the only person I care about impressing.” 

“Not to stroke your ego, but you’ve already impressed me. After all, you’re the only one who’s had the audacity to compare me to a freaking muppet and survived.”

“Point taken,” you chuckled.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Seonghwa suggested and the two of you entered his house. No matter how much you begged him to let you help with the cooking, he was insistent that he would do all the work. Said something about making up to you for the times you had to carry his bag or buy snacks to him and his friends. When you argued that you also had some making up to do for all the times you teased him a little too insensitively, he said that you agreeing to be his real girlfriend was enough to satisfy his wounded heart. Seeing that there was no point in arguing, you gave up and occupied yourself by mindlessly scrolling through social media. About an hour later, Seonghwa finally deemed his culinary masterpieces ready to be eaten. He allowed you to at least help set the table which you considered a small victory. The second you tried the first meal, you were so overwhelmed by the exquisite tastes that you spoke without thinking much.

“God, I wanna marry you.”

Seonghwa simply chuckled, amused by your unexpected reaction.

“Did I say that out loud?” you whispered, completely mortified, covering your mouth in embarassment.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shit, I’m such a mess,” you mumbled.

“No, it’s fine. I take it as a compliment. Now, eat up before it gets cold. If my wicked plan works, you’ll have bought me a wedding ring by the time dessert arrives.”

“Truly wicked. I’m in danger,” you laughed and kept enjoying the various meals Seonghwa had prepared. 

Once the plates were empty, you felt so full and warm you couldn’t possibly move. And no, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Seonghwa had to physically carry you to the couch so that you two would re-watch Star Wars: Return of the Jedi together, warmly cuddled up under a blanket.

Suddenly, you were possessed by the urge to speak your mind and be as honest with him as possible. After hiding your true feelings for four years, now that you were finally given the chance to be yourself, you were feeling uncharacteristically brave.

“You know, even though I was messing around earlier, I had indeed daydreamed about marrying you back in our first year of high school. You were the first boy who ever treated me like I wasn’t the walking joke of the universe. The first who ever hung out with me not as a prank but because you actually saw me as a friend. When I started teasing you about your cute habits, I hope you know I never wished to hurt you. I just wanted to show you that I notice and appreciate every single detail about you. So, yeah, I really like you, Hwa. Have liked you for a long time.”

Seonghwa had paused the movie the second you started talking. And now that you were done sharing your thoughts, he seemed unable to say anything. The silence was a bit awkward so you interrupted it once again.

“I’m sorry, that was silly. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable so early in our re-”

This time, he interrupted you with a kiss, pulling you into his lap, just like the good old days. You smiled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him.

“It wasn’t silly. I appreciate you saying all that,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And for the record, I know you meant well with all the teasing. In a sense, a part of me even suspected that you liked me back. But I was also feeling a bit insecure. I kept thinking that you could do so much better than go out with dorky Kermit guy who has an obsession with tidying up, you know? That you deserved someone else. But I couldn’t allow anyone else to be that someone. So, I changed myself.”

“Maybe you did change a little. But in my heart, you’re always going to be my Frog Prince Hwa.”

“I hate you so much,” he rolled his eyes.

“Naw, you don’t.”

“Fine. I hate that you’re right.”

Things between you and Seonghwa were going great. It had been three months since you two started dating for real. He was super attentive and caring towards you. However, you were a bit bummed out since not much changed compared to his behaviour as your best friend and as your boyfriend. Sure, you did start kissing each other and occasionally making out (which wasn’t exactly a best friend activity). But there was one thing that still had not happened. And the more time passed, the more anxious you felt to bring it up.

One evening, you had miraculously convinced your parents to let you have a sleepover at Seonghwa’s place. After insisting that nothing out of the ordinary was going on between you two and even if something unusual did happen (which you highly doubted but secretly hoped for), you were going to use protection (and no, you were certainly not referring to Seonghwa’s collection of action figures who carried weapons).

As you and your boyfriend were enjoying your snacks while watching TV from the comfort of his bed, you couldn’t help but finally raise the question that had been tormenting your mind for a while now.

“S-seonghwa...do you not find me attractive?”

“What the hell are you asking me that for? Would you be my girlfriend if I didn’t find you attractive?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never dated anyone before so...I was just wondering if there’s a particular reason why we still haven’t...taken things to the next level?”

“The next level?” he chuckled. “Relationships aren’t video games. And to answer your question, the reason’s actually the exact opposite of your concerns. We haven’t done anything more than making out because I find you ridiculously attractive. And it’s taking every last inch of my self-restraint to not pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with. I just wanted to wait until you’re ready.”

“Ready? So you knew that I haven’t...with anyone...yet?” you purposefully left out some words because you were feeling incredibly shy discussing this with Seonghwa.

“Of course I knew, princess. You’re my best friend. And my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least. That you’re not repulsed by my...inexperience.”

“Why would I be when we’re in the same boat?”

“We are?” you whispered in shock.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Seonghwa laughed. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since forever. Did you honestly think I would just screw anyone else?”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t have options,” you pointed out, referring to all the potential love interests swarming around him like bees. “Unlike me.”

“Are you regretful, little girl?” he inquired, running a lazy finger across your cheek. “Jealous?”

“No, I just...want to be the best for you, sir,” you confessed nervously.

“You’re already the best I could hope for,” Seonghwa responded and kissed you hungrily, burying his hands into your hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you curiously needed to know. “That you haven’t either...”

“It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation?” he pointed out. “What was I supposed to say? Hi, bestie, let’s have lunch together. Oh and by the way, I’m a hopeless virgin pining over you?”

“You’re right,” you laughed. “It would have made things awkward.”

“Now, unless you have any other pressing issues, I suggest we go back to kissing.”

And without giving you the time to argue, Seonghwa devoured your lips rightaway, gently pushing you down so that your back hit the sheets. Then, he started slowly taking off your jeans. Anxiously trembling under his vigorous touch, you placed a hand against his chest. He immediately noticed and put a temporary halt to his ministrations.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he comforted you with all the seriousness in his voice.

“No, I want to, I swear,” you nodded eagerly.

“Princess, you’re literally shaking,” Seonghwa remarked.

“What’s wrong with me?” you sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. Tell me to stop if you feel even the slightest hint of hesitation or discomfort and I will, I promise.”

“I know you would, Hwa. I trust you. But even if I’m a bit nervous, I want to do this with you. Please?”

“Well, I can’t deny you since you’re asking so nicely,” he grinned and continued where he left off. “Can I get rid of these?” Seonghwa inquired, carefully pushing your panties to the side.

“Yes, you can do anything to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t have said that,” he chuckled darkly and tore your underwear savagely. You couldn’t even gather the energy to complain about the ruination of your new pair, you were far too turned on by Seonghwa’s aggressive nature to care. He didn’t waste any more time, grabbing your thighs to hold them in place, he began licking your pussy with his tongue and stimulating it with his long fingers. It didn’t take long for you to start squirming beneath his touch, helplessly moaning his name. He didn’t cease his merciless movements until you reached your orgasm. When your breathing finally eased, you gathered the energy to speak again:

“I thought you said you’ve never done this before? How were you so...so...”

“So good?” Seonghwa smirked confidently and bit his lower lip. “I mean...I’ve seen videos. Read some things here and there.”

“Honestly? I think you’re a god.”

“You’ll have to stop complimenting me so much or I’ll develop a god complex,” he joked. “What do you want to do next, baby?”

“I want to suck you off,” you mumbled.

“Who taught you such dirty language?”

“Hey! I read, too,” you pouted and assuredly made your way towards the carpet next to his bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seonghwa asked.

“Aren’t I supposed to kneel in order to pleasure you, sir?”

“Princesses never kneel,” he instructed and got up from the bed, urging you to lie down with your head hanging from the very edge of the bed and make yourself comfortable. “Open up that pretty little mouth for me, will you?”

You did as he asked obediently and even went the extra mile to stick your tongue out. Unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side, Seonghwa was quick to follow your wishes and let his cock spring free from his jeans. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his monstrous size. Seeing your worries if it will fit reflected in your eyes, he expressed his concern for you:

“Are you sure about this?”

“Please, please, I need you,” you whimpered without thinking, eager to have a taste. Without making you wait any longer, Seonghwa pushed the tip of his cock inside, gently letting your cheeks get used to the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly, he went deeper, allowing you to acquaint yourself with the stretch. When you kept blinking at him in anticipation, he realized you were ready for more and began moving faster, fucking into your mouth at a steady pace. As he neared his high, his motions became less controlled you were sucking more intently, impatient to swallow every last drop of him.

“Shit, I’m going to-” he attempted to break away, but you managed to wrap your hands at the back of his legs in order to keep his cock inside your mouth. 

Seconds later, he released his cum and you began drinking it thirstily. When you had made certain that no drop was wasted, you finally let go of his legs, allowing your boyfriend’s dick to dangle freely outside of your mouth.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Seonghwa praised you and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “My incredible girl.”

“I’m only yours, sir,” you mumbled, way too affected by him.

“You like this, don’t you?” he mocked you teasingly.

“Yes, sir, I want to belong to you,” you whimpered and turned around to pull him back into bed.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Seonghwa smiled fondly and took a mysterious package out of the back pocket of his jeans. Soon enough, you realized what it was, as he started lining up the condom on his cock.

“Oooh, I brought one of those, as well!” you exclaimed in surprise.

“You came here on a mission, didn’t you? Wicked little thing,” he tsked in fake disapproval.

“It’s not my fault you’re walking around like an Adonis,” you defended yourself boldly.

“You’re one to speak. Freaking goddess,” Seonghwa complimented you and slowly began unbuttoning your shirt you had somehow forgotten you were still wearing. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, always making sure you were feeling safe.

“More than okay,” you consented. Left in nothing but your baby pink bra, you unintentionally shivered at the sudden cold air surrounding you. Soon after that, Seonghwa undid the clasps and you were now only wearing your birthday suit. Feeling a bit timid, you self-consciously covered your breasts and broke eye contact with your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he pressed the palm of his hand against your cheek. “Do you want to stop?”

You weakly shook your head and somehow managed to gather the strength to look into his beautifully dark eyes once again.

“Then, let me see you, yeah?” Seonghwa nudged your hands away gently. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

You blushed at his sudden praise and allowed him to have a look. But seconds later, you were getting a bit impatient.

“Please, Hwa, I want you so much.”

“Anything for my princess,” he chuckled and coaxed his tip at your entrance slowly. When you gave him a sign he could go deeper, his movements became bolder. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

“M-more, sir, I swear I can do this,” you begged as you were beginning to unravel beneath him. As he fucked you faster into oblivion, you were no longer thinking straight and his name was the only word you were capable of uttering. Over and over again. Until you both came, blissfully lost in each other’s arms.

“Here, let me clean you up,” Seonghwa offered sweetly, picking you up with little effort and carrying you to the bathtub. 

When he started shampooing your hair, rubbing body lotion into your sensitive skin and covering your neck with soft kisses, you couldn’t stop your tears from falling, touched by his infinite tenderness and by the sheer intimacy of the gesture.

“Darling, are you crying?” he questioned you upon hearing your hiccups.

“N-no,” you lied but it was useless, because it was quite obvious you were, in fact, bawling your eyes out.

“Did I hurt you, my sweet princess?” Seonghwa asked in concern.

“How...how could you think that?” you whimpered. “You’ve been nothing but kind and caring towards me. It’s just that...this is the first time I’ve felt so...special, so worthy, so...”

“Loved?” he offered the word you had been seeking for but had been too scared to utter out loud.

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed shyly. “Is it too early to say this? I’m sorry if it is but...I love you, Seonghwa.”

He simply stared at you in disbelief for a couple of seconds. This time, you were once again the one to break the deafening silence.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just...I wanted you to know. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but-”

“I love you too, baby. Of course I do,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And I’m not just saying it, I don’t feel obliged to say it. As my best friend, you know me better than anyone else. And you know I don’t do things unless I want to. So, believe me when I say this.”

“Fuck,” you uttered and only started crying harder in his arms.

“Shhh, you’re safe with me, sweetheart. I would never harm you,” he comforted you and stroked your hair lovingly, putting all your worries and self-doubts at the very back of your head.

After you were all dried up from the bath and had put on your boyfriend’s shirt while he was still in the shower, you were feeling uncharacteristically confident. Confident enough to look for something you hadn’t seen for a while. You had been wondering if he had it hanging around somewhere in his wardrobe. And after a short period of rummaging you found your treasure. The green hoodie. The Kermit hoodie. You smiled mischievously as you changed into it. It still smelled like him, you beamed. Back when he was simply your best friend, the amount of times you had fantasized about him lending it to you should have been illegal. So now that you had been promoted to his girlfriend, you simply couldn’t let such an opportunity pass you by.

Once Seonghwa got out of the shower, water droplets running down the divine skin on his bare chest, you were too busy staring at him in all his beauty and glory to notice the angry look on his face.

“How did you even find this? It was hidden so well in my wardrobe,” he scowled.

“Don’t be mad,” you pouted adorably. “I look so cute in it, right?”

“Cuter than me, that’s for sure,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes and tickled your belly.

“That’s impossible, you make the cutest Kermit,” you giggled, enjoying how easy it was to get on his nerves.

“You’ll never let me live this down, will you?” he groaned.

“Never ever, my stunning Frog Prince,” you vowed and kissed him quickly, taking him by surprise. His eyes widened in shock and he seemed too flustered to continue scolding you.

“You’re in luck today. Nothing can ruin my good mood,” Seonghwa was determined.

“Great,” you grinned gleefully. “Cause from now on, I intend on making all your days filled with joy.”

“From now on?” he chuckled sarcastically. “Oh, princess, my days have been filled with nothing but joy ever since I met you.”

And indeed, both Seonghwa’s days and yours were nothing but pure happiness ever since you decided to make your relationship real. And despite his foolish statement that he no longer wanted to be your best friend, you had somehow managed to convince him that he was both your boyfriend and bestie and that was perfectly okay. As if in the blink of an eye, spring came which meant that the whole school was in nervous excitement about the upcoming prom. Generally, you weren’t the type to get overwhelmed about such a trivial topic. But now that you were dating Seonghwa, the most popular guy in the school, you couldn’t help but worry a little. What if he wanted to go with someone else? Someone equal in “status”? Your worries and insecurities further intensified when he started asking questions in a weird way.

“I need your help,” Seonghwa blurted out over lunch.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend. And he really likes this girl and wants to ask her to prom. What do you think would make her happy?”

You blinked in surprise. You knew that when people pulled the “I’m just asking for a friend” card, they were most likely talking about themselves. Was he seriously thinking of inviting another girl to prom? You tensed a little but tried really hard to remain neutral in your answer and actually make an attempt to help your bestie.

“I mean, all girls are different,” you reasoned. “If you describe her to me, maybe I’ll be able to give a more appropriate suggestion.”

“She’s a bit like you. You know, kinda bookish and-”

“It’s alright, Seonghwa, you can say it. I’m a nerd.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“It’s not exactly a slur,” you chuckled coldly.

“I know, but that’s what your bullies in middle school called you. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive,” Hwa put his hand on top of yours in a gentle, comforting manner.

“It’s fine when if you say it,” you smiled. “I won’t get offended.”

“I was going to say my friend’s crush is intelligent like you but, oh well.”

“That does sound better, I admit,” you giggled.

“She’s also a bit shy and introverted so maybe she wouldn’t enjoy a public promposal. Crowds tend to make her nervous,” Seonghwa observed.

“Seems like you didn’t need my help after all,” you scoffed playfully.

“No, I do! I still haven’t come up with an actual way to propose. I mean, for my friend.”

“Right. Your friend. Well, he can’t go wrong with some poetry under her balcony. If she has one, that is.”

“I’m pretty sure she does.” Seonghwa smirked. “Alright, thanks.”

He jumped from his seat, not even having finished his lunch.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I gotta prepare my friend’s promposal,” he shrugged and disappeared from your sight, leaving you a bit crest-fallen. If he was intending on asking you, he wouldn’t have turned to you for help, right? That would sorta ruin the element of surprise, wouldn’t it? And yet, you knew that Seonghwa wasn’t the type to care about people’s opinions and randomly ask a more popular girl out because of public demand. And he definitely wasn’t the kind of person to just date you for kicks and then ditch you at prom. Despite those very logical reasons, you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

A week later, you realized all your worries had been for nothing. It was a Sunday morning and you had just finished having breakfast with your family. You were leisurely reading on your bed when you heard some suspicious noises coming from your window. You looked up from your book and you could swear you saw tiny rocks hitting the glass! You jumped up angrily, half-expecting to find a bunch of neighbour kids pulling a prank. But you were surprised when you spotted your boyfriend standing under your balcony. Wearing his iconic green hoodie.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, though a hopeful part of you already knew the answer.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he recited diligently in a song-like manner.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overdramatic acting but it was the effort that touched you immensely.

“And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!” he continued sweetly.

You were so in love with this man it was insane.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return,” Seonghwa kept going.

You couldn’t resist the urge to leap off the balcony. It was just the second floor so what could possibly go wrong? Other than a scraped knee and a bit of a limp. God, you were such an idiot.

“Shit, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked in terror and wrapped his arms around you.

“The excruciating pain is worth it if I get to hug you like this,” you grinned, leaning against him for support.

“Why couldn’t you just walk down the stairs like a normal person?”

“And what’s romantic about that?” you joked. “Jumping off a balcony makes for a much better story.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Only for you, my sweet Frogmeo!” you teased and kissed his cheek.

“Wait, I wasn’t finished!” Seonghwa exclaimed excitedly, not bothering to act offended about your obsession with him and that Kermit hoodie. “There was something about cheeks, I swear.”

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!” you helped him out dutifully.

“O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!” he finished proudly and placed his palm against your cheek.

“Only you could possibly mix Romeo and Juliet with The Frog Prince and somehow make it work,” you praised him.

“Does that mean you’ll go to prom with me?” Seonghwa tilted his head to the side adorably.

“Of course I will, baby,” you responded happily.

“Thank God, ‘cause learning that monologue drained my soul and brain,” he whistled playfully.

“You know, you had me worried there for a second,” you confessed reluctantly, because you didn’t want to keep any secrets from your doting boyfriend.

“When?” Seonghwa asked in confusion.

“Lunchtime. A week ago. When you asked me for advice. I thought that...”

“That I would ask someone else?” he correctly guessed your suspicions. And you nodded. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

“No, you’re perfect. In fact, too perfect. It makes me feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Seonghwa smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head. But he wasn’t angry with you. Just wanted to erase those silly thoughts from your mind.

“You deserve so much more, princess. But I’ll try my best to give you all I can.”

“As will I,” you promised and mischievously pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie, making his face squished adorably.

“If this is the best you’re capable of, I dread to see your worst,” he shook his head in amusement.

“Prince Frogmeo and the Nerdy Princess,” you sighed wistfully. “That would make a hell of a fairy tale, wouldn’t it?”

“How about Kermit the Frog whoops the Princess’s ass for being a brat?” Seonghwa threatened jokingly.

“You know what? I wouldn’t say no to that,” you giggled and started running away from him. “If you catch me first!”

Prom night arrived and despite all the preparations and excitements around it, it was nothing special in itself. What made it special, however, were the moments you spent with Seonghwa. Just dancing and talking seemed to be enough to make your heart leap with joy. And the smile never left your face the entire night.

“School’s really ending, huh?” you spoke aloud without thinking, while you were swaying slightly to the music in your boyfriend’s arms.

“This isn’t the end of us. We’ll go to college, we’ll grow up. The best is yet to come, darling.”

“You know what I meant,” you replied, a hint of sadness tinging your tone. “In college, I’ll study Literature, you’ll study Music. We’ll no longer be able to sit next to each other in class or exchange notes or hold hands under the desk.”

“We’ll do all sorts of other things,” Seonghwa responded cheerfully, trying to think positive. “We’ll have study dates in college, we’ll visit new restaurants and make more memories together. Just because high school is over, doesn’t mean we are. I’m not giving up on my best friend ever.”

“Your girlfriend,” you corrected him playfully.

“My best friend,” he repeated. “You were right. Being in love with each other doesn’t nullify our friendship. Both are equally important to me. You are the most important to me.”

“God, Hwa, how can you say such things so easily?”

“Is your heart fluttering?” your boyfriend and best friend teased you, swirling you around while dancing. You were met with his beautiful dark gaze again as he murmured: “Hi, princess.”

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you chuckled in response.

And you were finally home.

The End

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I’ve been watching these NextUp streams from Edinburgh this month, had been meaning to make a post about what I thought of some of them, but have decided this one deserves its own post. I’ve been trying to expand my comedy horizons a bit lately, try out some styles of comedy that I might not really be into normally. Partly because I’ve tried that a few times before and it’s turned out great (I don’t know what the hell “absurdist theatre” is so I expected to not understand one moment of John-Luke Roberts, but then I watched it anyway, and now his show A World Just Like Our Own is one of my favourite comedy hours I’ve ever seen), so I want to see what else I’m missing out on that I’d really enjoy.

The other reason why I sort of feel like I should try this is just because I sort of like the idea of being like the cool cultured comedy fans who can appreciate shit like that. I wasn’t a theatre kid. I don’t understand the theatre kids. I saw the theatre kids in school. I see the theatre kids as adults. I’m glad they’re having a good time. I really am, I’m glad all that artsy experimental theatre shit exists and I’m glad there are people who enjoy it. I just wish I could back up my theoretical beliefs about The Importance of Art by personally enjoying it myself.

Today, I decided to watch Siblings and Family Friends, which was the title of a show by the comedy group called Siblings. I watched it because it was described on the Fringe Festival website as:

“Variety, cabaret: Prepare yourselves for a wild and wonderful variety night hosted by character comedians and IRL sisters Maddy and Marina Bye, of critically acclaimed Siblings, starring their family friends (who also happen to be the best comedians at the Fringe). Expect stand-up, clowning, sketch-comedy, drag, dance and more in these three exclusive nights.”

That is a lot of words that can appear in a description of a comedy show and make me recoil a little, and then move right along past it. Clowning. Drag. Dance. Variety. Cabaret. I figured, if I watch this show, I can get all my horizons broadened at once! A little sample of all the things I’m not sure about, in one show, so I don’t have to see any other shows with that stuff.

Thoughts about it are below the link, just because this gets rather long.

…It opened with an ironic interpretive dance about birth and childhood, but it was a bit difficult for me to tell just how ironic it was, the whole thing was confusing. But “an ironic interpretive dance about birth and childhood” sounds like exactly the sort of comedy I want to be able to appreciate, so I tried to do just that, just stare at it non-judgmentally until I get the joke. I’m pretty sure it was a joke. But I didn’t really end up getting it.

Then they said some other stuff, in character, where the joke was that their family is a secret cult but they’re pretending to not be a cult so they can recruit the audience, and at least that makes sense to me. It’s not the funniest joke I’ve ever heard, but it’s all right, I can see how if you were in the room where that happened and you got on board with it that would be a fun thing, so I tried to get on board.

Then a woman came out and did some things with a hula hoop that would make James Acaster wild with envy, while music played in the background. While this happened, she took off her clothes. Which I believe categorizes that performance as “burlesque”, which is another word that can appear in the description of a comedy show and will make me immediately decide it’s not for me. Not of any prudish instinct, I don’t think. Just because I want to hear someone say funny and/or emotionally moving things into a microphone and this is one of the many types of comedy that isn’t that.

So I actually watched the burlesque show, to see what all the fuss is about. And it was extremely impressive. I’m very very impressed that that person can do all that stuff with her body and with the hula hoops. I don’t… I don’t quite know how to say this without sounding horribly prudish, but I’m genuinely not sure why she took her clothes off. Not, like… “People should keep clothes on because bodies are bad!” I don’t think that. I just don’t really understand what the removal of clothes added to the show.  But maybe that’s exactly what it added. I guess that’s sort of the point of the whole thing, making the performance a rebellion against all the people who say that everyone should keep clothes on because bodies are bad? Either way, I didn’t really get the nudity part of it. But it was fun to watch the hula hoop move in time with music. And it was an incredibly impressive athletic feat.

The Siblings came back, and did a weird sketch, where I did get the joke but didn’t find it all that funny (it was a parody of meditation things, very visual, and I often don’t find comedy as funny if it significantly relies on visual cues).

Then Tom Ballard came out, and it was like… you know when you’re at a party where you don’t know anyone, and you get this rush of relief when you see a familiar face? That’s what it was like to watch this show and try really really hard to appreciate the comedy styles that I do not understand, and then Tom Ballard walks on stage. And yes, I realize it is not ideal that I could watch several women do really interesting alternative entertainment things and it left me impressed but also cold and confused, and then a white guy walks out and I say “Oh thank God he’s here, this is something I understand.” In my defense, I also great enjoy plenty of women who just stand there with a microphone telling jokes in the conventional way.

I’ve heard Tom Ballard tell this joke twice before in recent performances – he announces that he had gay sex with a witch, and then asks if there are any witches in. Both times I’ve heard it before, no one in the audience answers, so he says of course they’re staying quiet, the witches know not to identify themselves or they’ll get burned. He did that joke again during the Siblings set, but this time, when he asked if there are any witches in, quite a few people cheered. He had to change his response, saying that the people who cheered must be lying, because if they were real witches, they’d have stayed quiet to avoid being burned. That seems about right. That Tom Ballard does that joke to a regular stand-up audience and get the silence that he needs to set up his response; he tries it at this show and several witches are, in fact, in.

He did an extract from his full This Is I set, using the parts I’d expect. He did the bits of that show that are about sex. He left out the bits that are about politics and the death of his grandmother. That seems like a good choice for this show.

Then Siblings came back, this time in different costumes, playing different characters. They did a sketch about, I think, annoying teenage boys starting a business. I’m not quite sure what was going on in it, but it did not help that these characters had quite mumbly voices so I couldn’t understand half the words they said. I didn’t find it hugely funny, but I sort of got… maybe 50% of the joke? They waved the microphones around a lot. They made a man in the crowd get up and the lights flashed.

Then a guy came out and juggled what appeared to be bowling pins while music played. I was, again, very impressed with the athletic feat. Though it was less athletically impressive than the hula hoop woman, so if the entertainment is just supposed to come from us watching someone do something physically difficult and saying “Wow look at that,” it was somewhat diminished by having to follow her. I guess that shouldn’t be hard to understand – watching sports is an extremely popular passtime, so clearly, people do enjoy watching someone perform a physically difficult feat just to be impressed by their skill. Although, at least in my experience, a big part of what’s fun about watching sports is the competitive element. Maybe that’s what’s missing here. Those are my notes as a non-theatre kid trying to understand alternative entertainment – I think they should make variety shows competitive.

This guy didn’t take his clothes off. But he did juggle quite a lot of bowling pins by the end.

Siblings came back out in their initial characters, as people trying to recruit the audience to a cult. I liked those characters better than their other ones.

Then out came Egg, a sketch duo I’d vaguely heard of but had never seen before. They were, actually, really funny. Didn’t require any effort on my part to enjoy that. I would enjoy seeing more of them. They did two sketches, one about an annoying conservative aunt and one about awkward crowd work, both of which were good.

Then Siblings came back and sang a song about soccer dads, which was kind of funny. I enjoyed the song. Enjoyed it slightly less when they started slipping in and out of character afterward, and I went back to not being able to tell what they were doing.

Then there was a guy named Bill O’Neill, from a sketch duo called the Banana Brothers. A significant part of the joke in this part seemed to be that the other guy in the sketch duo wasn’t there. He messed around with banana peels and threw himself on the floor a few times, and I kept waiting for the twist or punchline or other way where we find out what funny thing that was setting up, until I realized that the sight of him doing that was meant to be the funny part. Then he did a sort of… parody of miming, I think? Or possibly just actual miming. A fair bit of the difficulty I had with this show came from not being able to tell how much irony there was in most of it. He threw some bananas on himself and writhed all over the stage for a while.

Then Siblings came back and did what was definitely a parody, they said so at the beginning, where the joke is that they have no circus skills but would pretend to do a circus act anyway. Once again, it helped that I finally got the joke, found it a bit funny, but so much of the humour came from visual stuff that just isn’t that funny to me so I ended up skipping bits of it.

And then: oh thank God, another familiar gay white man whose tour show from this year I’ve already heard so I know exactly what he’s like these days so nothing will be a surprise! Out comes Paul Foot (I’ve been weirdly writing this post in the past tense as though I’d seen it all and then sat down to write this, don’t know why I’ve been doing that because actually I’m watching it now and stopping to write stuff down as it goes along), and I know that guy! I mean, Paul Foot is not exactly known for being a non-confusing comedian. But it was quite a while ago now that I put in the small amount of work required to figure out what Paul Foot is doing, so now I already get it and can enjoy it.

He opened with a weird bit where he pretends to be a marmoset, but he was explaining it rather than acting it out, got in the audience’s face, it was fucking funny. Then he did his rhino horn joke from his previous tour show, which I find very funny. The line “They are, though” has gotten a laugh out loud from me every time I’ve heard it, which is now quite a few times. Then he did a bunch more from that show, including some briefcase disturbances.

He actually got quite a muted response from the crowd, which I thought was much less than he deserved; he’s very funny in general but was also very funny in this specific set. The crowd failing to recognize that immediately makes it more difficult for me to agree with this crowd about anything else.

Last up is Rueben Kaye, a guy I’ve vaguely heard of and know is a drag queen but I’d never seen him before. He was funnier than I’d expected, actually. I liked that he did actual stand-up, rather than the drag itself being the entertaining part. He had some quite funny jokes about his family. And at the end he sang a really dramatic rendition of Colin Hay’s Down Under song, which was a lot of fun.

I’ve realized that this stuff isn’t particularly different from those old Late ‘n’ Live videos that I enjoy so much, making it silly that I consider this “not my thing”. But I think what makes those so funny is the irony. The fact that it’s all people who normally get on stage and tell jokes, but instead, for this night, they’re wrestling in bubble wrap and doing rap battles and singing Eminem pulling apart cows and shit. It’s funny because it’s unusual and because they’re doing all of it with an ironic sense that this is a weird thing they’re doing and they’re kind of making fun of themselves. And not that people in this Siblings show weren’t making fun of themselves. It’s more than I just don’t know what they normally do so I didn’t get the joke so much. I couldn’t tell what was a parody and what was just entertainment. I guess that’s part of why I’m an obsessive completist about everything I like and will seek out as much context as I can for everything – I tend to enjoy stuff more once I’ve seen enough of it to really “get” what it is. And I haven’t, really, with this.

Anyway, I'm glad I watched that. I enjoyed... some of it. I enjoyed a bunch of it, actually. Some of it is not going to be for me. I think I like sketch comedy if there's a lot of talking in it and not so much if most of the humour is visual. I think that sentence still works if you take out the word "sketch", actually. This was an interesting experiment but I think I'm now going to find the most conventional straight stand-up show I possibly can, and watch that to balance it out. No character work. Preferably not even any crowd work. No interactivity of any kind. No sketch. No second person on stage. Not even a song. Just one human being spending one hour saying words that are 80% humour/20% personal trauma, as God intended comedy to be.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end