#either form would even start to phase rose??? like

[athenaistired]

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭.𝟒 //

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ.

art credit & word count: 4747

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ): ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ, ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ʀ��ʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅᴜᴇʟɪɴɢ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟ

— 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !4!

It has been a month since Donna had miscarried the baby. The tension in the house was over the roof, but what irritated Diluc further is that you always seemed to be in great spirits.

Their dark circles, weight loss, depressive states — none of that phased you. In fact, there was one time when the redheaded man was getting ready to collect some flowers in the Whispering Woods, and you watched him leave the house whilst standing in the hallway and waving him a good-bye with that shit-eating smirk that never left your face.

There was something evil in your eyes ever since he came back. You were not the same person that he knew once — you felt like a demon. A witch.

Every time he left somewhere, he was terrified that you would do something to Donna. Your actions felt like a slow build-up to a gradual event, and he couldn’t help but worry himself into sickness. Diluc always kept any form of a weapon on himself, and even his lover started sleeping with a knife under her pillow just in case you’ll come back to haunt her once more.

Planning your murder was not an easy task. There were multiple things that they had found in their way.

First, it was your absolute authority over the house and Mondstat. The attack couldn’t happen anywhere where you could have a potential escape route or a protector. You had to either be caught by a surprise, or be forced into attacking first to initiate the whole ordeal.

Second, your servant Marie. She wasn’t always visible, but her spirit was everywhere where you went. Diluc the other day had also caught a sight of a Hydro Vision embedded at the back of the maid’s long black skirt. He wasn’t sure if she specialized in the healing ability or fighting, but as the time went on he did realize one thing for certain — Marie wasn’t a mere servant, she was your personal bodyguard. Knowing you, you wouldn’t have someone responsible for your safety without proper insurance.

Third, your abilities. Even after all these weeks of living under the same roof as you, there was still not much known about you. He had attempted to investigate and find out if there were any potential trump cards that they still weren’t aware of, but he came up to nothing. In fact, the more he dug, the more their murder attempt was feeling less and less possible.

“Donna, there’s only one way that this can be done.” The redheaded man whispered, and his words made the woman tremble and grow pale.

“Absolutely not.” She instantly replied, but instead of a living gaze that she grew to love — eyes as cold as ice stared back at her. Her lover was fed up with everything. He just wanted it all to be over.

“I am giving you a month. If you don’t come up with a new idea — I will get this done the way I see fit.” He warned her, absolutely refusing to back down on his decision.

He couldn’t let you win.

He couldn’t let you win.

He. Couldn’t. Let. You. Win.

Never.

He would rather die.

“But Diluc—“ Donna begged from the bottom of her heart, but her plea was silenced once the man rose a palm before her face, tactically telling her to shut up. Brunette’s heart ached. She felt heavy, as if she was about to crash through the ground and fall down straight into hell itself.

She was losing Diluc.

To you.

There was a knock on the door, and soon no other but Marie had walked through the door. Just a few weeks ago, she would ask for permission before entering. However, the more your terror and power grew, the less Donna and Diluc were respected or cared for by the servants of the house. They all admired you on another level, and saw the two “guests” as nothing more than nuisances.

“Master Y/N is expecting both of you for breakfast.” The maid proclaimed after a small bow of her head. Well, she might have had no respect for their privacy, but she sure was always a well-mannered woman.

“Tell that witch to stop playing fucking house already.” Diluc snarled back like an angered animal. His fists were already clenched just at the thought of you. Marie lightly frowned at the harshness of the words, but didn’t let it show.

“For today’s breakfast we have prepared a freshly made croissant bake topped with cinnamon custard and wild berries.” The maid continued on as if the other two were not even in the room, ��You’re expected to be downstairs in 5 minutes, so that the food does not get cold. Do not make Master Y/N wait for you.”

And just as Diluc was about to say further insults into her back, the maid had left the room.

-

“Good morning, you two.” You said the moment the parasites had entered the dining room. You watched Marie pour you another cup of tea. Today it was buckwheat tea with some honey as a sweetener, your personal favorite. The maid’s graceful hands clothed with black velvet gloves carefully moved the ceramic teapot and gently placed it back down. It didn’t even make a sound against the wood of the table once it was put down, “I pray that you had a good night’s sleep.”

“Are you having fun doing all of this?” Diluc snarled at you, and you rose a curious brow. Marie’s expression grew darker, but you put your hand up to stop her.

“Let him speak.” You said to your maid, and although she hesitated, she straightened up her back once again and put her hands behind her back.

“Diluc, stop.” Donna tugged at her lover’s sleeve, but the man instantly pulled away from her.

You watched in amusement as his resentment towards you was now pouring out and poisoning everything around that he loved. A woman that he treasured, carried around in his arms, and claimed to marry in the future — was now humiliated and ridiculed by no other but himself.

“No, Donna, let me tell this bitch exactly what I think.” Diluc said to Donna and began quickly approaching you. You didn’t even flinch, but continued to drink your tea as if nothing was happening, “Tell me, is this.. Fun?” He said almost straight in your face, “Is this.. A twisted desire of yours? Revenge? A fucking joke?!” You watched in disgust as the droplets of saliva from his mouth landed over your dishes.

You picked up a teaspoon and lightly clicked it against the plate. Marie instantly was on your opposite side picking up the dishes off the table. Both Diluc and Donna seemed confused by what was happening, but didn’t say a word.

You stood up from your chair, and stared long and deep into your husband’s eyes. You were trying to find at least small bits of evidence that the man you once loved was still there. However, as you searched — you couldn’t find even the smallest bits. You wondered, what would the Diluc from the past think about this? How would he react to what had happened between both of you? Would he allow himself to live knowing the shame he had brought upon his own family name?

No, that Diluc would choose death over being such a disgusting creature that was in front of you.

“You are just a dead man, fuming with rage and grief. There’s a deep hole in your heart that nothing can fill, and this malice that’s spilling out of you will never end unless you’ll rot away six feet under. You never got over your father’s death, and you make it everyone else’s problem. Well, you know what, Diluc? You’re not the only one who lost something important that day you left.” You could see his vision glowing, as if it wanted to spit fire at you right there and then, “Grow the fuck up already.” You said in a cold tone that made the whole room fall silent. Diluc blinked once, twice, and took a step back. Satisfied, you turned around to where Marie stood, “I will have my breakfast in my office.”

“Of course, Master Y/N.” The maid bowed and then held up the door open for you to leave.

“Ah, and one more thing.” You turned around, but this time you faced the brunette woman rather than the hot-headed idiot, “Donna, darling, you’re only 19 years old. Don’t waste away your years on this disappointment of a man like I did. He’ll turn on you the same way he did on me, then will cheat on you with a younger woman or man, and you’ll be left alone to pick up his shit after him.” You sighed, “I wasn’t always the way I am today. I know that, that feeling that’s been growing in me back then, is now growing in you. Listen to your gut, and make the right decision.” And with that, you finally left the room leaving both of them in a stupor.

-

“Oh, for fucks sake!” Diluc roared like an animal and smashed his fist against the wall. Donna stood behind him, slightly hesitant to move. Ever since she listened to your speech, she couldn’t seem to get her head out of clouded thoughts. You laid the seeds of your plans — to grow them apart as much as you could.

Rightfully so.

“Please, just.. Calm down..”

And it was working.

“Calm down? Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!” The man pulled at his own hair. He really did seem to be slowly losing his mind, “Are you fucking serious with me right now? They are humiliating me!” He let out a small laugh of disbelief, but Donna was dead serious.

“Why don’t you go on a walk? Cool down. Maybe let out some steam fighting Hilichurls. Go do something else except just.. Being here.” She breathed out a suffocated breath. It felt like she had been holding in these words ever since yesterday — and now she was finally able to let them out, “They’re getting into your head, Diluc.”

“They’re getting into MY head? Donna, you’re not making any sense here.” However, the man refused to understand the message behind her words, “Just a few weeks ago you came to me crying your fucking eyes out because you thought that Y/N caused you to have a miscarriage, and now what? You’re telling me to.. Let go? To.. Calm down?! TO. COOL. FUCKING. DOWN?” His voice was increasing in loudness with each word one by one, and Donna could barely hold herself from wincing away.

When had he become this?

Was he always like this?

What was happening to him?

Where did her Diluc go?

“Yes.” She nodded, “I am.”

The man stared at her for one second, two, three.. Time seemed to slow down while he studied her expression as if she was an animal at the zoo. They weren’t talking, but none dared to break the eye contact. One was trying to dominate the other in the disagreement by using pure intimidation. Donna wasn’t sure how successful her attempt was, but suddenly, her lover took quick steps right towards her and roughly grabbed her by the chin.

The brunette froze in place; feeling like a helpless bunny before a hungry wolf. He squeezed her flesh tight to the point that it burned. Her hiss of pain didn’t stop him, but only seemed to make the grip stronger. She would be shocked if it wouldn’t bruise later.

“Wipe that look off your fucking face.”

It felt like he could see you looking at him through Donna’s eyes.

Diluc finally let go, and almost made his lover fall down to the ground. The man quickly walked past, grabbed his coat, and headed through the hallway to the right. Soon, the loud bang that shook the whole mansion had echoed through the walls. He left. Thank god, he left. Relief washed over Donna’s psyche; her heartbeat was starting to slow down and she began to take deep breaths in and out.

She had no clue what to do anymore.

-

You sat in front of a chess board in your office. You carefully observed the crafted pieces before you, and hummed in thought. Eventually, you picked up the Queen and King off the board and showed them up to Marie who stood by the exit door.

“I am the King.” You announced, “And you — are the Queen. You do whatever I tell you to, and you protect me at the cost of your life. However, you are more than just a Queen — you can jump through pieces, you can go multiple times in a row, and you can engulf as many in your way as I desire.” Marie smiled, but remained silent, “And I am more than just a King, however, what I share in common with the King is that if I fall — the game will be over not just for me, but for everyone.”

“Marie?” You called out to your servant, who looked up at you with adoration. She already knew what you were going to ask, “If I told you to die for me, would you?”

“Of course, Master Y/N.”

You laughed in her face.

“If I told you to let me die. Would you?”

This time, with more hesitation, “Y-yes, Master Y/N.”

“Is that so? How adorable.” You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling. This feeling of power over others was just as addictive as a drug. The people of this house held you in such high regard, that they would even go against Barbados himself for your sake.

Suddenly, your expression went cold, “Then you are no Queen.. Just another pawn.” Your gaze shifted once more onto the wooden figures held in your hands, “Remember this — anything and anyone can be replaced, but the King.”

You dropped the chess pieces in your palms straight onto the chess board. The pieces clacked, and flew all across the table.

Chaos..

Discord..

Malice..

Death.

-

Weeks were passing by, and Donna was still out of options. Now, with a further sober mind, she wasn’t sure what she was meant to propose to Diluc in order to change his mind. If only they could just run away, but they were held like hostages to their own fates — prisoners of your home. Until this day, Diluc still called it “his” mansion, but anyone who wasn’t a complete cretin knew the truth. You’ve long planted seeds, strengthen roots, and bloomed in this house. They were strangers here, no matter how hard one would look.

“Donna, did you come up with a solution?” Diluc creeped up behind her like a ghost; she didn’t even hear his steps nor sensed his presence.

“H-honey.. Can we just.. Run away from here? Maybe we’ll build a cabin in the woods where nobody will find us.. And live there.. Forever?” The woman grabbed at his shirt and pressed herself closer to his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, but it sounded cold. Distant. Like an echo.

Diluc gently took Donna by her shoulders, and pushed her away to look deep into her eyes. Those eyes were the ones of a dead man who had learned how to walk and talk, but it was easy to tell that he had long abandoned dreaming and living.

She had lost him.

This was it.

“I won’t rest until that bitch is fucking dead.”

A chill ran through Donna’s spine. She froze, and didn’t even care to chase after him as he walked off into the distance. She shouldn’t have said anything to him that day when she lost her child, she gave him an idea — that turned into an obsession. He had become a sick man. No, he had always been a sick man, it was just..

It was just..

That he loved Donna before.

But he didn’t anymore.

His love for Donna, was replaced with hatred for you, and it seemed like Diluc’s heart only had place for one person.

It was her time to let go.

And so, the brunette slowly turned herself around to go back to the guest bedroom to pack away her things and leave this cursed mansion. She had enough money to hire an adventurer to escort her to Liyue. There was no more life left for her in Mondstat, not after what she had done. Not after what Diluc was about to do.

Perhaps.. They liked flowers in Liyue as well.

-

You knew that he was approaching, and fast. His footsteps echoed across the hallway long before he even reached your door. You and Marie exchanged a look; already expecting what was to come. After all, the walls were quite thin within the mansion.

When Diluc flew into the room, he had resembled a beast far more than a human. There was fire in his eyes — perhaps this was the first time that he had truly looked alive since the day that he came back to you. A lost hound had returned to its owner to consume it alive. You’ve ran out of things that could saturate his hollowing hunger.

“In Fontaine, you have the right to fight for your honor with a duel.” He said while staring down at you. You sat at your work desk on a massive red velvet chair whilst playing with a pen between your fingers. Your movements stopped, and you looked up at him with a smirk.

“Is that so?” You chuckled; feeling amused, “I am saddened to disappoint you, but you do so with a dualist assigned by the Chief of Justice.”

“Either you fight me or everyone in this mansion dies.” The red-headed man threatened you, at which you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore.

“They can all die.” You shrugged, “Dying for me is an honor, Diluc.” The man rolled his eyes at your response, but didn’t give up.

“Either you fight me — or I will set the whole of Mondstat on fire.” At first, you wanted to instantly reply back — ‘You wouldn’t do that’ — but with another second of staring into his eyes you knew for sure that he had truly lost his mind. He had nothing left to stay for, “I will murder citizens, women, children.. I will cause chaos, until I am stopped. However, you are able to prevent the loss of those lives by agreeing with me right here and right now to fight for honor.” He took one step after another, and eventually placed both of his palms against the table and leaned in closer towards you, “I wouldn’t be surprised if I am not the only one in the need of honor cleansing.”

You couldn’t care less about the humans’ lives, however, if the word got out that Diluc would not have committed crimes have you agreed to a duel, but you haven’t, it would greatly affect your reputation. Damaging to your reputation, would damage your status, damaging status, would damage the business, damaging the business would damage sales, and then slowly and eventually..

You will also be left with nothing.

“A duel it is.” You stood up and straightened out your hand. With hesitance, Diluc shook it, “One of us will not see the dawn, do you agree for such a risk?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, Y/N.”

-

Dueling is about recovering your honor, it was not an act of killing.

There were many important rules to a proper duel. First of all, such were not allowed in the country of Freedom and winds. Thus, it had to happen in the country of Geo and contracts, where both you and Diluc had signed the appropriate documentations which were overlooked by Lady Ningguang herself. Since both you and Diluc were considered to be individuals of high status, it applied even further complications to the whole ordeal.

You ensured that the vision from Diluc was confiscated, and that he was not allowed to use weapons he was further familiar with than you. So, the claymores and the swords were off the weapon choice. Both of you had signed for the weapon to be a loaded pistol. Your husband requested for them to not come from the production of your company, thus, also disabling any potential advantages from your side.

The day had come. Strangely enough, you did not feel nervous. You felt oddly excited.

Standing back-to-back with Diluc made you realize that it had been years since you were able to feel his warmth against your skin. It was a paralyzing feeling. This was probably the last time that you would feel it, but the idea of that brought you strange comfort.

You looked around, before you stood an audience of people, friends, and even some distant families. You could see in the center of the seating lady Ningguang together with her two most trusted servants by each of her sides. You could also see the glimpse of Master Jean, the Traveler, and even Paimon. You weren’t sure if the sights which were about to transpire were worth witnessing. There were also guards standing in each corner of the podium, ready to intervene under lady Ningguang’s orders if she thought that the duel had gotten too far.

Well, it was definitely going to get too far.

Dueling is about recovering your honor, it was not an act of killing. However, you and Diluc were gathered here today to kill one another. One of you can exist only with the death of the other. There was no loophole or another solution to this.

The loaded gun rested heavy in your palm, but you didn’t shake nor sweat. You had long abandoned fear or attachment to living.

There was a loud voice, you didn’t know what they said, but you knew what had to be done. 20 steps, and fire. 20 steps, and fire. 20 steps, and fire.

In 20 steps, your life was about to change forever.

20..

19..

Your heart was starting to squeeze, but the adrenaline rush kept you going forward. You stood proud and confident. Your chest was puffed out, and your movement never lost its grace.

18..

17..

The face of young Diluc flashed before your eyes. He used to be so happy, so full of life, and filled with passion. If only that boy had known he would grow up into such a monster.

17..

16..

You looked down at your gloves. You put on the best pair that you had. White silk with a black beautiful design stitched by hand. It also had some pearls situated at the corners of the black lines. This pair had come all the way from Inazuma, and last time you had worn them was on your wedding day.

16..

15..

The weather today was perfect. It was sunny, and it was easy to stay warm even in lighter clothes. However, the fresh breeze of a wind made you feel refreshed just how you would in winter. The sun of Mondstat, and the wind from Dragonspine, all the way in Liyue. The Archons were truly having a laugh at you.

15..

14..

You noticed that Donna was also present in the audience. She had been crying for a long time. There was a handkerchief in her palm, her eyes were swollen and puffy, her pupils surrounded by wine-red. Poor girl, you thought, but you felt no empathy. Karma would catch up with her as well, the same way how karma was catching up with you today.

14..

13..

You were trying to recall what you had for breakfast today, and couldn’t remember. Ever since you started preparing for your death, the days and nights have blended into one. You were truly in the moment — in the present — today.

13..

12..

For some reason, you wondered whether Diluc remembered the day of your birthday. Did he remember your anniversary? Did he remember the day when your parents had passed away?

12..

11..

You saw Kaeya sitting in the audience as well. He gave you a weak smile when he caught your glimpse towards him, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in irony of it all.

11..

10..

You noticed that Marrie was not present, just how she had promised. After all, you entrusted the last task to her. You knew she’d get it done. You knew that she wouldn’t get involved.

She was free.

10..

9..

You wondered what the life would have been like, if instead of running away, Diluc actually would have come to you for comfort. What if he had processed his grief, and the two of you would have moved on? Maybe you would have children by now. Perhaps, also dogs, cats and horses.

Maybe you would have been happy.

9..

8..

You saw a shadow of your parents standing right before you. Their faces were covered with a faint light glow. This made you wonder, you couldn’t quite recall how their faces had looked like. Or the sound of their voices. No, you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to have your father smile at you or what was it like for your mother to tell you bedtime stories. Those were luxuries of the past.

The dead had come to visit, as if already decided upon the fate that was about to be bestowed. There was no way around this, was there?

8..

7..

You could hear Diluc’s angry panting all the way from where he was standing. He was fuming. He was raging. He was burning from inside out from hatred and agony. He had decided that getting rid of you would put everything to a stop. That he would stop feeling like a monster was eating him alive. That he would be finally put out of his misery.

Oh, how wrong could one be.

7..

6..

You thought back to when Diluc had proposed to you for the first time. You were still just kids, and both of you had no clue that it was already decided that both of you will get married for diplomatic reasons. He had braided a stem alongside another stem of small, delicate flowers into a ring and a flower crown. He had gifted those to you, with a pure smile and a faint peach blush hovering his cheeks. You were in love.

6..

5..

You thought back to when Diluc had got his vision. At first, you were a bit jealous. After all, everyone wanted to have a vision. And knowing that both of your parents had one, however, you didn’t, always made you feel a bit petty inside. You could recall begging him to use his pyro abilities, because you wanted to see the magic, oh so badly! He asked you, which animal did you want him to make. Without any hesitation you replied, a bird!

5..

4..

You thought back to when the detectives that you have hired to investigate your husband’s disappearance first told you that they thought Diluc had passed away. Your whole world came crushing down. You felt sick right then and there. You were dizzy for weeks, the doctor’s couldn’t help you. There was one professor from Sumeru who decided to take your case and heal you from a “broken heart”.

In reality, it was a congestive heart failure. The causes were unknown. Your medications kept you stable for some time, but there wasn’t much time left.

4..

3..

You thought.. You thought.. You thought..

Almost as if time had come to a stop.

2..

1. . .

It was very sunny that day. You were a bit hungry, but felt too nervous to eat in the morning. After all, it was going to be the day that your life would change once and for all — you were going to be with your soulmate forever.

"Do you take Y/N as your lawful partner, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

The priest had asked Diluc the question, but he didn’t even need any time to think. The clear and loud “yes” had slipped past his lips even before the other could finish his sentence. The old and wise Priest smiled at the lovebirds, and the two of you sealed yourselves in a kiss — a promise.

Until death do us part.

[kittyball23]

Sleeping Tight (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: After awakening from a nightmare, Floyd seeks comfort with his favorite baby brother

A/N: Anybody else sleepy from Thanksgiving turkey? I know I am, lol

__________________________________________

Trolls were joyous little creatures.

This went without saying, as it was proven with how much they sang, danced, and hugged each other. Even when they slept, you could most likely find a serene smile on their faces. But, even the happiest creatures underwent moments of other not-so-pleasant emotions, like sadness or fear. It was the latter that had taken ahold of a certain magenta-haired Trolling that night.

Floyd awoke with a start, the moon still high in the sky and the dawn nowhere near approaching any time soon. His little heart raced and a few beads of sweat had perspired on his forehead. He had a nightmare, he knew that, though he couldn’t quite recall the exact details of it upon awakening. He thought it may have been something about tall terrible creatures, or perhaps something about having been separated from his Grandma and brothers forever. Either way, they were frightening thoughts that disturbed him greatly.

He clutched at his blanket, trying to shut his eyes and think about happy things. But, unfortunately for him, he was still a little too rattled to do as he intended. The Troll bit his lip, contemplating what to do. He could always go to Grandma, but at the same time, he didn’t want to disturb her. He knew that she got enough of them during the day as it was. He glanced over at the rest of their room, where his gaze roamed over the sleeping forms of his brothers in their beds. They all looked like they were snoozing pretty well, too. John Dory was making finger guns in his sleep. Spruce was making kissy faces, likely dreaming about girls (a phase that Floyd wasn’t too fond of and found very gross). Clay was snoring loudly, some drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. Floyd scrunched his nose in disgust at the sight, but soon that disgust went away when he saw his one younger brother snoozing in his crib. Baby Branch hugged his Croco toy securely against him in his little blue fingers and suckled on the binky in his mouth every once in a while. Out of everyone, he looked the most peaceful. And probably the least judgmental of the bunch.

As silently as he could, Floyd pushed his blankets aside and rose from the bed, quietly tiptoeing his way over to the crib. Then, carefully, he reached inside and took the baby into his arms. Branch, being a naturally light sleeper, immediately stirred awake from the action, blinking his tired blue eyes and focusing them on the magenta ones of his brother’s. He cocked his head at the Trolling, an eyebrow raised as if to ask “Floyd?”

Floyd offered him a gentle smile. “Hey, Baby Branch,” he whispered. “You don’t mind sharing the bed with me, do you?” When Branch did nothing more than blink blankly at him, he sighed and continued. “I kinda had a bad dream… have you ever had a bad dream?”

Branch furrowed his blue brows, as if he didn’t quite understand the words. Floyd couldn’t help but laugh lightly. The baby had probably never had a bad dream once in his short life so far, and he hoped that he never would. “I didn’t think so,” he said, reaching over to lightly run a finger over his small cheek. The motion tickled the baby and he giggled sweetly. “The other guys… they’ll laugh at me if I try to tell them. Especially Clay.” Clay, being the ‘Fun Boy’ of the group, always liked to find a joke in everything, and he’d try to make light of the situation. John Dory and Spruce, being the eldest, would try to put on a front, trying not to let their sensitive sides show. But Floyd wore his heart on his metaphorical sleeve (given that the brothers’ favorite outfit choice – vests - don’t have sleeves). It was just something that made him him.“But,” he continued, hopefully, “maybe you won’t?”

Branch looked up at Floyd, blinking again as though he had paused to really process his brother’s words. Then he grinned, snuggling up against the magenta Trolling’s chest and babbling happily.

“Braaanch,” Floyd cooed, doing all he could not to allow the happy tears that had pooled in his eyes to spill. Even so, a few managed to slip down his cheeks, which he quickly wiped away with his free hand. He carried the baby with him back to his bed, adjusting him and his toy first and then sliding in next to him, tugging the blankets over them.

“Well, g’night, Branch,” he whispered.

Branch giggled, releasing his Croco toy and instead using his brother’s arm as a pillow to rest his small blue head on. Floyd smiled, getting comfortable and knowing that now that the rest of his sleep would go undisturbed.

__________________________________________ A/N: Hope you enjoyed, I'm about to watch the movie on the big screen in just a few minutes!

[screams-in-writing]

This starts out reading as a more horror-esque story, before Mr. Puzzles is found to just be bad at personal space and that phasing into one’s home is frowned upon (I think this is even longer than the other one I posted. I am having fun).

Your roommates were at their respective family homes, which left you all alone during a raging thunderstorm.  A storm that lit the house with flashes of intermittent lightning, rain coming down like a deluge, as if threatening to flood the very streets around the home.

In addition, the power had gone out not ten minutes ago, leaving you in the dark to hold onto a flashlight one of your roommates had stored in a kitchen drawer. It wasn’t the brightest shine, either, the path of the beam flickering itself, as if the battery were close to dying out. The subsequent dark of the house following the power outage, despite the light said flashlight produced, made you become acutely away of the ambient noises around you.

The basement door was ignored; you’d seen enough horror movies and games to avoid going down there like the plague. Even if you were all alone in the house, you were not going to let your mind get away from you by going to check out the electrical panel.

There was a slight thumping sound from the dining room, like someone had tripped. 

Nope.

You went in the opposite direction of the noise, and began to carefully go up the stairs, an unnerving feeling of being watched settling in.  The flashlight died not even three steps up. Propelled by spike of alarm that there could be someone behind you now that it was dark, you blindly raced up the stairs. Panic shot through you when you could have sworn you heard steps swiftly following up after you.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

The hallway wasn’t completely dark, thanks to a window from another room nearby that was open, allowing a vague outline to your closed bedroom door. 

Telling yourself you’d checked all the doors and windows before your roommates had left for the weekend, you slam your bedroom door open. Without missing a beat, you stumble to your bed and hid under the covers of the bed like you could keep yourself hidden from whatever you thought could have followed you upstairs. 

Creaking noises. 

Someone was walking?

No, that was just the siding of the house being hit with the sheets rain.

A shuffling noise.

Just the rain pelting the windows.

A thump sounded in the brief silence.

That…had came from underneath your bed.

You peer out from beneath the blanket to warily peer over the side of the bed. You were met with a sheepish expression with a multi-colored smile on a tv screen staring up at you.

“Hello, my-“

In a panic, because how could there be a television on under your bed, you abruptly tossed the blanket over the tv screen. In a burst of frenzied terror, you dropped down onto the tv on your knees with a thump, making a garbling noise emit from beneath you. Further terror seized you when a pair of arms reached out from beneath the bed to upend you. Scrambling to get to your feet, you are halted by a hand seizing one of your arms. With a scream of fear you’re pulled backward into a solid chest, arms around your waist as someone held you. 

A voice cut through the cacophony of rain and thunder, saying your name.

Confused, you still for just a moment, noticing the glow in the room that came from behind you. It illuminated a pair of legs on either side of you, which boxed in your upright if curled up form.  A pair of familiar legs in gray pants with puzzle patterns on it, ending with black and white dress shoes. Confusion rose as you glanced down and found arms covered in a white dress shirt, gloved hands twitching when your hands settled over them.

“Mr. Puzzles?”

“The one and only!” Said with gusto, if in an out of breath way.

Right.

You’d essentially landed your knees into his face, hard.

Wait.

“Why are you in my house?” You felt Mr. Puzzles’ hands fidget under yours. 

“Would you believe it is because I have nowhere else to go, when I am not at work with you or our…co-workers?” It sounded like Mr. Puzzles still wasn’t married to the idea that he needed to work with a team to get a show up and running.  Possibly because it wasn’t the kind of show he was used to, in that it was  podcast being taped or just audio, depending on the current money situation.

“And this brings you into my house, how?”

“…I remember where it was because it was the first place I appeared? And I wasn’t sure if a hotel would…let me in? Or if I let myself in, someone might be…very, very confused.” Mr. Puzzles offered, almost sheepishly. “And so…i may be able to do an eensy-weeny little thing-”

“Which is?” You cut in, before the man could go off on a tangent.

“…I used the old box tv still plugged into the basement and replaced it with myself before the power went out?”

So there was something to fear in the basement, though Mr. Puzzles was less terrifying than an actual burglar that might cause you harm. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t weird and rather intruding for this tv-headed man to just let himself into your and your roommates’ house.

“I take it that isn’t…done as much here, as where I’m from?” Mr. Puzzles asked into the silence, amid the storm raging on.

“No, it’s not.”

“I see.” 

An awkward silence reigned briefly.

“I could go to the basement and wait for the power to turn on, if my presence is truly troubling.” That sounded like it had come through gritted teeth; impressive, for someone with a screen for a face. Like he wanted to be in the company of someone but also acknowledging, reluctantly, that being in the home of an acquaintance-almost-friend without notice or approval wasn’t the best thing to happen.

“Why did you show up to begin with. Apart from not having a place to go?” You finally clue into leaning against the man and swiftly pull away, which Mr. Puzzles quickly allowed for as he rested against a nearby wall.

“Oh, right.” Gloved fingers fidget; Mr. Puzzles suddenly looked embarrassed, screen shifting as a frown appeared, droplets of sweat shown on one upper area of the screen. “I asked for everyone’s phone numbers, to stay in touch, you see. I must admit, I was so caught up in the idea of being involved in a show again-“ In a quieter, deeper grumbling tone, “Yet not even a host of it.” 

You stare at the man, who quickly ‘cleared’ his throat and continued on.

“Not that I’m not grateful for another chance.”Mr. Puzzles’ voice became clear and upbeat once more. “Why, the very thought held me in a chokehold of inspiration and it wasn’t until the end of the work day that I realized I’d forgotten to ask for your number.”

It was such an absurd thing that you had to laugh, which made Mr. Puzzles’ face shift to one as well as a laugh track mixed with his own.

“You do know you could have waited until tomorrow.” You said. “The storm is supposed to be gone by the morning.”

“You dont know why?” Mr. Puzzles reached out to grasp one of your hands.

Personal space, much?

“I wanted to thank my dear rescuer, who not only didn’t dump my prone head into a dumpster-“ Mr. Puzzles shuddered in apparent revulsion over the very idea. “But you also found me a place I could use a rather free rein of my creative expression at while getting back on my feet!”

“Free rein, meaning putting two of my arguing co-workers into your television head land or whatever while people thought they’d gone missing?” You ask dubiously as you take your hand back, though Mr. Puzzles had let go already to wave the hand dismissively.

“Schematics. One must make sacrifices for a good television show.”

“You sent one of them to therapy.” You deadpanned.

“To be fair, that fellow appeared to already be in need of such survives.” Mr. Puzzles shrugged in apparent indifference.

“Pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’m offended.” The man placed a hand over his chest, Mr. Puzzles’ screen face switching to a picture of a sat wet cat. “No one in this world could possibly handle the amount of therapy I would require, so I’m afraid coping will just have to be enough.”

“At least you’re honest about it.”

“I do try my best.” Cheerful and insincere. This man had a screw loose somewhere in that tv head of his.

A bright flash of lightning followed by a deafening rumble that shook the house.

You practically flung yourself at the nearest object for comfort, which happened to be Mr. Puzzles, who seemed confused by the sudden death-cling you held him in versus the conversation suddenly being interrupted.

“Not a fan of storms?” Mr. Puzzles asked eventually.

“What do you think?”

“…would you like me to play something for you?” Mr. Puzzles questioned in a softer tone than before.

“Like what?” You whispered.

“Well, that depends.” Mr. Puzzles tilted his head. “Would you want to watch or listen?”

“Listen.” You decided after a brief moment of thought.

“Any requests?”

Genuine. Curious.

“Nah, surprise me.”

A mistake, that.

If you hadn’t been in need of holding something alive and breathing for reassurance (how did Mr. Puzzles manage that, with his head being what it was) you might have tried to uselessly to smother the man with a pillow.

The asshole was playing a recording of the fitness gram pacer test, apparently quite happy to return the hug, as touch-starved and friendless as Mr. Puzzles made himself appear. But Mr. Puzzles redeemed himself some time later when he eventually switched over to a channel playing orchestral music that was loud enough that it dulled the noise of the storm, but not loud enough that you missed sound of something else. 

With your head leaning against his chest, you heard the thumping of a heart. This man’s body was a confusing mess; a tv for a head, yet his body gave in the way a human’s did, but at times, you wondered if he was robotic.  And if that was the case, were you hearing an actual heartbeat, or just the sound of one to make this impromptu holding one another for comfort in the dark less unnerving?

A thought to pursue another day.

[dentiststoothfairy]

hello(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) can i ask a

Norton, Eli and Naib with a s/o that has a fully grown black pet leopard that follows them around and accompanies them in matches no matter what, at first they thought it was a normal leopard but that change after a match,

as one of they're s/o ability is that they can command there leopard to teleport them far away from the hunter,and how they do that? the leopard turns into a literal angel, human like form,wings and all. turns out the leopard is a guardian angel for they're s/o. and after they teleport the leopard would turn back to normal(⁠=⁠^⁠･⁠ｪ⁠･⁠^⁠=⁠) plus it's even more scary as the angel form is like 7'3ft tall…

i hope this isn't too much for you to write⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

and remember don't over work yourself and stay hydrated, (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

🍩 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋 🍩 , 🦉 𝐄𝐋𝐈 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊 🦉& 🟢 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐁 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐑 🟢

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒/𝐎 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥

🍩 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 🍩

"Oh what the fuck is that thing? A mutated cat?"

".. Norton have you ever.. Heard. Of a leopard?"

"A what"

Norton's introduction left a GREAT impression on your guardian lmao.

This man is as educated as a miner can get. He can read maps, he likes poetry and has canonically read Orpheus's work. But when it comes to animals. Other than what he's read about in books, he's particularly clueless.

He comes off as judgy but he's not I promise . Okay he's a little bit but he's literally never seen a leopard before. So as long as it doesn't maul him, he doesn't care.

But, when it turned into a 7ft fricking angel. It took him by BIG surprise.

He's not exactly a believer in angels. If he had one, it abandoned him the moment he was born or something. So yeah. When this angel is bigger then him. It kind of intimidates him. He's. That's.

That's. That's not what a leopard was right?

Least to say, out of matches, he's even more on edge around the animal than he was before lol.

He loves you but that animal freaks him out lol

🦉 𝐄𝐥𝐢 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 🦉

Eli probably sensed something was up with your leopard the moment you two met. He also has an arcanaic animal, so it's a familiar sensation.

He treats your leopard with the respect he treats his partner, Brooke rose with.

Unlike Norton who tried to avoid it, Eli attempted to investigate it. An incredibly intelligent animal, with an even more intelligent conscious. How fascinating!

When in a match, he used his ability with Brooke rose, which is when he saw your leopard morph into a 7ft angel with wings and all, teleporting you safely from the hunter.

First of all.

Phew. You're safe.

Secondly.

What? <:)

Eli was a little confused, but he seemed not phased at it at all honestly. If you ever have a magical creature, Eli Clark will not blink twice.

In Eli we trust 🙏

🟢 𝐍𝐚𝐢𝐛 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫 🟢

Well, the name "Naib Subedar" is from the Indian Army.

And there is an idian leopard. So he knows what they are.

Whether he's had a run in with them before will change his inital reaction to them lmao.

He'd either sort of, find it strange but won't say anything. Since.. They're decently rare.

Or will tense up.

Either way, he's pretty apathetic. Once he gets used to it, he just starts treating it like a regular cat lmao.

You can catch him hiding his fish food out of concern your overgrown kitten will eat it. (He does not realise this is a being of divine light.)

And. Once he rescues you from the chair™, he watches you LITERALLY SUMMON AN ANGEL WHAT

He literally stops in his place and accidentally takes a hit from the hunter but honestly the shock numbed it lol

So after the match, you had a bit of explains to do haha!

[celestiall0tus]

Long Road - Chapter 12 - Coming Soon

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Marinette rushed down into Liberty’s hold to meet Luka for their date. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Alix with Juleka and Rose. They all turned and waved her over.

            “Hey, girls, what’s up?” Marinette asked.

            “You’re just in time! Alix was about to share some amazing news!” Rose cheered.

            “Oh? What’s that?” Marinette asked.

            “Get this. There’s this new exhibit coming to the museum and my dad’s letting me get a look at it early before it goes live tomorrow. Mylene and some of the guys are already going to meet me there. What about you girls?” Alix asked.

            “What’s so special about this exhibit?” Juleka muttered.

            “Oh, right. Let me just get… here!”

            Alix held up a picture of a bizarre white box lined with silver and peculiar black markings on its surface.

            “Woah. Creepy,” Juleka cooed.

            “It is a little, yes,” Rose agreed.

            “That’s… strange. Uh, when will you be seeing it today?” Marinette asked.

            “Soon. Actually, right after this. I figured I’d stop in before I went back to the Louvre. Care to join?”

            “Count me in,” Juleka said.

            “Me too!” Rose cheered.

            “Uh, one moment. Juleka, is Luka-?” Marinette started.

            “Yeah. He should be done by now. Go ahead,” Juleka said.

            Marinette nodded and trotted over to Luka and Juleka’s room. She turned the corner and jumped back. Luka sat on his bed in meditation like the first time she saw him, but with a man sitting beside him with his eyes closed. She paled at the sharp, serpentine features of the man, pale skin like he was ill, black rocker clothes, and unnaturally long hair.

            “S-sass?” Marinette whispered.

            Sass’s eyes shot open with his snake green eyes and pupils narrowed into slits. Luka’s eyes opened as Marinette flinched and stepped back. Luka shot to his feet and approached Marinette.

            “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Luka commented.

            “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just… surprised by Sass,” Marinette reassured.

            Sass grumbled and hissed. He slinked off the bed and headed to the living room when Kaalki blocked his path.

            “Hey, lovebirds! We’re getting ready to head out. Let’s go!”

            “Oh, right. Hey, Luka, would you be ok with a small detour before our date? Alix’s dad is letting her see a new exhibit early and she’s invited us along with some other friends,” Marinette explained.

            “Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Luka said.

            “Alright! You’re coming too, scales,” Kaalki demanded.

            “No, I don’t think I will,” Sass hissed.

            “Oh, but you are. You know who is coming too and she’ll be very sad if you don’t show up. I wonder what she’ll do.”

            Sass sighed and growled. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

            “Oi, Mari, where’s little Velze?” Kaalki asked.

            “Huh? Oh, Gimmi? She’s at home. She, uh, didn’t want to listen to our, uh, sickening lovey words?” Marinette attempted.

            Kaalki looked Marinette over, then at the mini purse at Marinette’s side. She rushed at Marinette and snatched it before Marinette could react. She reached into it and pulled Gimmi from it. She beamed and tossed Marinette the purse back.

            “There you are, mini Velze! Come, join us. Stretch your legs with the rest of us.”

            Gimmi shot Kaalki a menacing look. She didn’t respond but phased through Kaalki’s grip and shifted into her human form. Marinette reached out for Gimmi as Gimmi navigated Liberty while avoiding the windows. Kaalki whooped and ran out after Gimmi. Marinette grimaced as she looked on, worried.

            “Everything alright?” Luka asked.

            “Not exactly. Gimmi has been avoiding all reflective surfaces. She won’t even look me in the eyes long either. When I ask, she doesn’t tell me why, but it’s clear something is wrong. I just don’t know what to do to help her,” Marinette explained.

            “I think the best you can do is let her approach you when she’s ready. There may be something wrong, but if she hasn’t shared, she isn’t ready. Give her time and she will be.”

            Marinette looked at the ground, then at Luka with a smile. “I’ll try. I’m just worried.”

            Luka returned the smile and took Marinette’s hand. “It’s ok to be worried. You care for her, just like you did with Tikki.”

            “I mean, I still do, but yeah, I do care for Gimmi. We clash and she’s never shy about reminding me about the reality of things, but I appreciate her for it.”

            “Oi, let’s go!” Kaalki yelled.

            Luka and Marinette jumped at Kaalki’s voice, then laughed. They joined the others on the deck before they headed to the Louvre. Marinette chatted with Luka along the way, but her eyes never left Gimmi as Gimmi avoided all reflective surfaces. When they approached the Louvre, Gimmi fell back behind Luka and Marinette.

            “Hey, are you ok?” Marinette asked.

            “Peachy. Just avoiding that,” Gimmi hissed.

            Marinette turned back and saw Mylene with Longg along with Marc with Tikki, Nathaniel with Vana, and Kim with Xuppu.

            “Finally, Alix! We’ve been waiting forever! You know this report is due tomorrow, right?” Kim yelled.

            “You should have done it sooner, idiot,” Alix spat.

            “It’s not my fault. I was supposed to do it with Ondine’s help, but everything just keeps coming up and she did it on her own. So, I’m all on my own.”

            “Not my problem, meathead. Anyway, everyone read-,” Alix started.

            “Sass!” Longg yelled.

            Sass stopped and sighed. Longg charged at him and scooped him up. She laughed and flung him around like a doll before she hugged him and bit his arm. Everyone flinched, but he didn’t react. She grinned and put him on her back like a backpack. She joined the others as everyone headed in. Luka and Marinette took up the rear with Gimmi.

            “That was… quite the scene. Have you ever seen that?” Marinette asked.

            “No. Mylene doesn’t come around very often. Even when she does, she’s just meeting with Juleka and Rose, so I never see Sass and Longg interact. Still, even though he’s unbothered, I hope he’s ok,” Luka said.

            “Sass is fine. I know he enjoys Longg’s bizarre affections, even if he never lets on about them,” Gimmi butted in.

            “Are you saying Sass enjoys being bitten?” Luka asked.

            “Yes,” Gimmi answered.

            Marinette hummed as a thought crossed her mind and she smirked. “You know, Luka, I’ve come to understand that we begin to mirror our kwamis in many aspects the longer that we’re with them. Does this mean you also like to be bitten?”

            Luka’s face flushed. “Ah, well, uh, y-you see, uh, I… I wouldn’t know, you know? I mean! You were the only girl I had dated before our breakup… and there was no one else. Even when we were together, we never… you know, so I… I don’t know.”

            Gimmi peered up at Luka. “You’re telling me a however old teenage boy you are has never thought with his other head? Never not once?”

            Luka’s blush deepened while Marinette blushed. “Gimmi!”

            “What? You aren’t seriously that surprised, are you? You both are transitioning into adults. Him sooner than you. You are going to have to address the topic of physical intimacy sooner or later. Sooner rather than later. And not by these little teasing jokes you seem to think are amusing,” Gimmi snapped.

            “She’s right, you know,” Sass yelled back.

            “Alright, enough. Can we talk about literally anything else?” Marinette asked.

            “Yes, please. I don’t want to think about my brother’s sex life,” Juleka said with a shutter.

            Luka pursed his lips as his face turned bright red.

            “Yeah, no one wants to talk about their likely boring, vanilla ass love like Nathan and Marc. I’d rather talk about Kim’s failing relationship,” Alix pointed out.

            “Failing? Oh no! What happened with you and Ondine?” Rose asked.

            “Nothing. She’s just been busy with Terra,” Kim said.

            “I don’t know. Sounds like she doesn’t want to see you,” Alix commented.

            “What? No. Who wouldn’t want to see me when she gets all of this?” Kim asked as he flexed.

            “Is that supposed to be impressive?” Longg asked.

            “Well, I mean, yes! Ondine thought it was impressive.”

            “I’m sorry on her behalf.”

            Kim’s jaw dropped. He was about to respond when Alim Kubdel approached them with the director.

            “Welcome, everyone. We’ve been waiting for you guys,” Alim said.

            Kim raised his hand. “Mr. Alix’s Dad, is this exhibit related to anything historical and can I use it for my report?”

            “Of course. Come along.”

            Everyone followed Alim and the director to a back room. They approached a table with the box on it. Everyone stared at it while the kwamis stood back.

            “Hey, any of you feel something… off?” Fluff asked.

            Mullo nodded.

            “Kaalki, you brought us here for a reason,” Sass said.

            “Did you, Kaalki?” Tikki asked.

            Kaalki smiled and pulled Gimmi close to her. “Mini Velze, look upon the box. What do you see? What do you feel?”

            Gimmi sneered and opened her mouth, but paused when her eyes landed on the box. Her eyes widened as familiar presences washed over her. Their presences were accompanied by a vile repulsion and betrayal she had never felt, but had at the same time. She knotted her brows as her pupils constricted.

            “Oh no.”

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[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side A: you.]

i started writing this over a year ago and never got around to finishing it; it’s meant to be a three-part thing. so maybe if i post the first part, i’ll be inspired to finish the rest. this wasn’t written to be shared with the public, mostly just for myself (which is why some of it can be cringey), but here we are anyway. hehe. happy birthday lee jihoon! 태어나줘서 고마워!

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 23k (LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

side A: you.

“Are you insane?”

If it were months ago, you would’ve winced at the harshness in his tone, but you’ve hardened yourself with resolve, almost saddened that this was the most communication you two have had since, well, you couldn’t recall. “I’ve been contemplating this for a while now.”

“But you didn’t talk to anyone else about it!”

No, you thought bitterly. You just didn’t tell him.

“I’ve already talked to my parents,” you spoke coolly.

He scoffed. “As if they’ve ever actually cared about you and your life.”

You felt anger flare up with a cold dousing of shame. “And what—” You spat. “You do?”

“Wha—of course I do! I’ve always looked out for you! I’m your best friend!”

Bile rose in your throat. “Best friends wouldn’t flake on every single hang out to go off and spend time with their favorite noona—!”

“Don’t you dare pin this on me.”

Your eyes shot up to his.

Cold. Piercing.

So unlike the bright crescents you were used to him having around you. He used to shine in your eyes, never too bright, but in a way that demanded your attention as you basked in his almost ethereal glow.

You were reminded that the moon has phases. And maybe that meant it was time to start anew.

Even if it meant disappearing from sight.

A heavy silence passed over the two of you.

You prepared so many answers to the questions you thought he would bombard you with.

What? You were going to a prestigious international academy several thousand miles away.

When? You were leaving in two months.

How? You got a presidential scholarship.

Why? Because you loved him so much it terrified you.

You had all of these answers.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he didn’t care enough to ask.

The tears couldn’t even form in your eyes. You knew it would be selfish and manipulative if you did. He always felt responsible when you cried.

“You can’t leave,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

A lie.

“You can’t just fucking leave.”

Leaving him, the unspoken message.

“Y/N, you— ”

“Let me go. Please.”

You heard his breath hitch.

You forced yourself to smile softly at him, wanting to ignore the visceral pain in his tensed jawline, widened eyes, and clenched fist. You knew the irreversible wound you were inflicting. Your resolution almost shattered at the prospect.

Almost.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Another lie.

“Don’t bother.”

You supposed you deserved the door slam that followed his footsteps, not even allowed to watch his retreating form.

You closed in on yourself, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks quietly.

He would be fine.

He always was without you.

Always will be.

Only a week later, in the comfort of your childhood bedroom nestled in the midst of Busan, did you receive the news from your neighbor a few streets down.

Jihoon decided to go through with moving to Seoul to become a trainee. I hope you can come by to congratulate him! His father and I would love to have you at the party!

Questions ran through your mind.

How long has he been thinking about this? Did he ever mention wanting to become an idol? When did he even apply to become a trainee? When is he leaving? Is he cut out for trainee life? Is he going to make his own music or be forced by his company to make inauthentic music? Is he going to remember to eat his meals? Will he be okay?

You paused for a moment.

Was this because of you?

You realized it didn’t matter.

You weren’t going to get the answers you wanted.

You didn’t deserve to.

You deleted the message.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Man, fuck this thesis work.”

“Careful, if they hear you say that, they might pull your funding out from under you.”

Hyejin glared at you, her lashes unceremoniously sticking a little too high up her eyelid. You wondered whether she knew there was no point in wearing makeup everyday when her only company was her pipettes and centrifuge. “God, sometimes I wish I was in your major.”

“You would wanna read about things like depression and emotional incompetence?”

“Why not? I see it all the time in my major. God. I was at a drinking party the other day—” You winced in advance. “And I just want you to be aware that if you were to include STEM majors in your sample, your EQ mean would drop so fast.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Alright. Fair. To be honest, though, my research focus is mainly on the public and government’s responses to providing resources for group homes and how to make transitioning a little easier. I’m hoping to garner more attention and funding in order to do more activism. So, technically, I don’t actually measure EQ. Although, I can make guesses based on the public forums that are out there.”

“All I heard is that you’re an absolute saint.”

You laughed. “Maybe to you, unnie.”

“D’you wanna get schwasted tonight?”

“I can’t. I have book club.”

“God, you’re such a fucking nerd. Why am I friends with you again?”

“I distinctly remember you saying it was to, quote, ‘ruin me.’”

“Seven years later and I still haven’t.”

“I dunno about that. I started watching that drama you recommended and my sleep schedule—”

“Isn’t it so good?”

You laughed as she started parroting off lines from the drama and you agreed after much coercion that, yes, the second-lead was indeed a better fit.

Your phone pinged beside you and you stole a quick glance. Your breath hitched as Weverse popped up on your screen. Your pulse slowed down to a normal rate when you realized the notification was from “RM 🌟”.

Maybe you should just delete the app.

You turned your attention back to the girl who was your first college roommate back at Yale, where quick introductions were made, and not a second later, began laughing at the prospect that your RAs probably put you both together for being foreign students from South Korea. 

She was much more refined back then, having already spent an entire year on her own as a Yale undergraduate, but your burning flame managed to craft something entirely new; just as she, like a river running its course, smoothed out your rough edges over time.

She led you back home.

Back to South Korea.

Back to him.

──────────────────

“You said you don’t break promises, Y/N.”

You found yourself grimacing. “Jihoon, that’s not fair—”

“Fair? Y/N, I kicked your ass at darts and now you said you wouldn’t keep your promise.”

“I don’t want my first ever tattoo to be whatever that is!”

“You pinky promised, Y/N.”

Your bottom lip jutted out. “I can’t even tell what it is.”

He stared down at the napkin he drew his artistic rendition on and then looked back at you incredulously. “It’s a firefly. Are you blind?”

You blinked. You could see the wings? Maybe? And those are lines that represent glowing? Not some weird excretion? You held your tongue and asked a more appropriate question. “Why a firefly?”

“I dunno. Seemed fitting. We always go see them together in the summer. They remind me of you. You remind me of them. That’s all, I guess.”

“Aw,” A toothy grin spread across your face. "You think I light up the night?”

“Sure, if you want.”

You could tell that Jihoon was getting embarrassed and wanted to immediately stop talking, but you being you, refused to let it happen. You piped up with your typical know-it-all attitude, “I read somewhere that fireflies represent inspiration and guidance. And hope, I think.”

He looked you straight in the eyes.

Your heart leaped into your throat.

“I guess that’s you, firefly.”

──────────────────

And here you were, in Seoul, a knowing pang in your chest that constantly reminded you of just how close he was. How your relationship always was. Close in proximity, but always left you wanting something more. Something else.

You blinked up at her, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Y/N—”

“I know,” you blurted out.

“You just look like you’re on the brink of a panic attack every time you see a Twitter or Weverse update.”

“It’s not that bad,” you grumbled.

Hyejin’s features softened.

Your chest tightened. You hated that look.

Pity.

“Actually, unnie. I’ll join you tonight. Screw book club.”

A knowing smirk spread across her lips. “Alright, bumblebee. My EQ is high enough to realize you’re running away from your issues, but it’s low enough that I won’t do anything about it.”

“I’ll add that to my data then.”

She flicked your forehead.

―――――――――――――――――

You groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, staring down at Hyejin’s bare legs wrapping themselves around your torso.

God. How much did you even drink?

You untangled yourself from her limbs, quickly checking her skin to make sure she didn’t have a repeat of three years ago when she somehow convinced you to let her get a tattoo of the two paper clips emoji on her inner bicep.

“They represent us, bumblebee.”

“How, unnie?”

“We’re like… leaning on each other.”

“That’s... so beautiful, unnie. Thank you.”

You shook your head fondly at the memory, staring at your own addition of two paper clips on the opposite bicep, sans the alcohol in your system. So, who’s to say which one of you is worse than the other?

You tried to unlock your phone but the brightness did too much damage to your eyes to where Face ID couldn’t recognize your look of disapproval. You quickly swiped the brightness all the way down to read the time.

5:43am

That meant you only slept an hour and a half after getting home.

You peeled off the skin-tight clothing your roommate had so lovingly forced you into and grabbed a loose fitting tee and shorts. You knew you had the weekend to recuperate since you’ve completed your work ahead of your deadline.

You poured yourself a glass of water and emptied it in the span of 10 seconds. You could feel your brain recovering from its shriveled state, as if the water seeped into your skull and was being soaked up. You wondered if Wheein, your ridiculously cute neuroscience major friend down the street, would be able to explain why that is.

You hummed to yourself as you grabbed another glass of water and a reusable metal straw before making your way back to your room, where Hyejin was convinced that your bed had healing properties since she never woke up with a hangover when she slept in your space.

“It’s like you just have this homey superpower.”

“Okay, unnie. Please stop eating your hair when I’m trying to feed you toast.”

You set the glass at your bedside table and decided to go through your phone’s notifications before rousing Hyejin awake.

You scrolled through the notifications, mostly people making sure that you both got home okay, Wooyoung sending you a money charge with the caption: I may have ordered you the taxi, but you’re paying for it. Love you noona xoxo

You scrolled until you saw a lone notification from Instagram (why? you haven’t posted in two weeks?) that nearly made you drop your phone in the same way your heart did.

[04:17] wzljh__ liked your post

Your hands shook as you stared at it.

You took a screenshot.

(Just in case.)

You clicked on the notification that took you straight to the post wzljh__ liked.

It was a random post from three years ago when you studied abroad in Japan during your junior year, where you were praying in front of a temple for, according to your caption, “to be able to change the world… and also get into a PhD program.”

You clicked on the usernames that indicated who liked your post. You couldn’t find the familiar handle anywhere. Secondhand embarrassment rushed through your veins and passed as quickly as it came.

You came to three conclusions at once.

1. Lee Jihoon reactivated his Instagram.

B. He didn’t block you.

III. He stalked your profile.

──────────────────

“Y/N, I really don’t think—”

“Jihoonie, I need to get more likes on my post. Therefore, I am making you this profile. You don’t even have to go on that often. Okay? You can deactivate it once I go viral enough to have the world at my disposal.”

“That’s never going to happen—”

“Believe in me more, would you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I believe in you.”

──────────────────

Jihoon immediately reprimanded you, telling you that you didn’t need to appease anyone as a sixteen-year-old (God, he really was too mature for his own good) but your whining had him yielding once you promised that you’d catch up on One Piece over the weekend and that you would make a bento for him.

He only ever posted once (at your request), but he did like every single one of your posts back then, although, no one would know since those were all archived (for the sake of preserving your current social life by preventing the increase in Hyejin’s arsenal of embarrassing photos of you).

Only months later did you have that falling out and his deactivation quickly followed. You believed he wouldn’t ever reactivate his personal account, especially with his woozi_universefactory account set up for Pledis, which, even then, was hardly posted on.

You clicked on his profile to see the anonymous profile picture still there. You saw his followers list and saw only four names.

That once familiar wave of jealousy that plagued you for over a decade never came when you saw her name. It dissipated a few years back after a night of confessions and mascara stained tears, hushed whispers and muffled sobs tucked away in the corner of a Busan bar in the middle of winter.

You checked his following list and saw several musical artists as well as your own handle.

Wait. Where was hers?

You navigated to her page to make sure you weren’t completely delirious and your brain slowly caught up with your eyes.

He wasn’t following her.

You typed in her username to find her profile. Immediately, her beautiful smile shone brighter on the page than the dimly lit screen could do justice.

You never hated her. She was a confidant and a beloved person in your life. Still is. You were all childhood friends (along with your cousin) with deep ties and connections, although the same could not be said for you and Jihoon currently.

But you hated how it all turned out: she didn’t reciprocate feelings towards Jihoon, but didn’t have the courage to properly reject him either.

Because, who would ever want to let him go?

You did, your mind supplied.

You bit your tongue and wondered if Jihoon found out that she was proposed to by your cousin just over a month ago, the one who she spent her childhood years pining after.

Maybe that’s why he’s not following her anymore.

──────────────────

“Y/N.”

“Shh, Jihoon. I’m concentrating.”

“On what?”

“My wish!”

You felt a tug at your earlobe and your fourteen-year-old self squeaked out, “Why!”

“What’re you wishing for?”

“I can’t tell you! That’s not how wishes work…”

He let out a gruff noise and sat across from you, his bright red shorts and white shirt were definite contrasts against the dirt surrounding your two small bodies.

“I’ll tell you one of my wishes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. If you tell me one of yours.”

“You first.”

“Ladies first.”

“I asked and it’s only polite if you answer.”

He huffed. “You never make any sense.”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes before he cast his gaze down in a boyish way that was just so charming, you too had to look away. “I want the courage to be able to confess my feelings before it’s too late.”

You stared at the river and wondered whether it was deep enough to catch all the tears that wanted to spill themselves from out of you, the image of her coming to the forefront of your mind.

“Firefly?”

“Hm?”

“What about you?”

You forced a smile as your eyes met his.

“I want to be friends forever.”

You knew wishes would never come true if you said them out loud.

──────────────────

“Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing over me like a fucking creep?”

Your trip down memory lane was interrupted by Hyejin’s screeching. You promptly rolled your eyes. “Get up, Princess. I got some water for you.”

“I’m gonna spill it on my face—”

“I brought a straw too.”

“How about a diamond ring? Because if you popped the question, I’d say yes immediately.”

You resisted the urge to smack the smug grin on her face and pushed the water over to her. “You would want a diamond, wouldn’t you?”

“All-naturally mined. No lab made stuff. Spent enough time there myself. Don’t need a ring to remind me of it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind to tell Wheein—”

“Shut up.”

“You’re right. She probably already knows. Being childhood friends and all.”

“Shall I remind you of your unrequited childhood love?”

“‘S not the same,” you responded automatically. She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t even seen him.”

“What? We rewatched their Melon performance literally two days ago, what the fuck you mean you haven’t seen—”

“I meant in person, unnie.”

She clicked her tongue. “And we went to the SEVENTEEN concert seven months ago. We would’ve gotten the fan sign too if you weren’t being so damn annoying about it.”

Your flustered response was enough to make Hyejin laugh at your expense. “I-I just wasn’t sure whether he would’ve even wanted to see me!”

She paused at your words.

You blinked owlishly at her. “What?”

“You used to say that you knew he didn’t want to see you. Now you’re not sure? What happened while I was passed out?”

You gulped.

She set her glass down quietly, a soft smile that seemed misplaced surrounded by her strained features.

“Bumblebee, take a seat.”

You promptly fell to your knees, feeling like explaining the situation would be akin to confessing your sins.

You only hoped she wouldn’t damn you to hell.

──────────────────

“Just slide into his DM’s.”

“Hell no.”

“Don’t talk to your unnie like that.”

You scoffed. “I’m not going to slide into his DM’s like some sad bitch who’s been yearning for over a decade.”

“...but isn’t that exactly what you are?”

You were so close to throwing your mimosa across the table. Too bad the American-inspired restaurant you were at only had half-off drinks during the weekday happy hour. You weren’t going to waste your full-priced flute of champagne and orange juice.

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Bumblebee, I promise I won’t message him. Just give me your phone, I want to see his profile again.”

You took your pinky, made an ‘X’ over your heart with it, pressed the tip against your lips, and held it out for her to do the same.

“God, what are you, 5?”

“Pinky promises cannot be broken. If you break them, you break my trust.”

“You know, for someone who’s studied Psychology, you sure believe in a lot of non-evidence-based practices.”

You emphatically made your point by bringing your pinky closer to her. She sighed and hooked hers around yours. “Satisfied, bumbles?”

“Always, unnie. There’s something beautiful about how the biggest of promises are made with the littlest of fingers.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up at that.

She took your phone and turned it to where you could see her every move. She clicked Jihoon’s profile and went to his first and only post, already liked by your sixteen-year-old self.

She looked as though she were scrutinizing the caption. You expected her to try and formulate an idea of him that was separate from his stage persona.

What you didn’t expect was for her to unlike the post and quickly like it again.

“UNNIE!”

“Oh, bumblebee, I think you would have broken the sound barrier with how loud that was.”

You were too busy having a meltdown to realize the whispering voices around you, giving pointed looks of disdain. Hyejin smiled at everyone and bowed slightly in apology. She tossed your phone at you.

“You said you wouldn’t—”

“I didn’t message him, did I?”

Your mouth went dry while your tears welled up.

Hyejin recognized the consequences of her actions immediately. “Whoa, hey. Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You don’t get to decide if it’s fine or not.”

She flinched back at your harsh tone.

You stared blankly at the phone in front of you, the once red heart, drained white, and filled again with color in the span of a microsecond.

Your watery eyes met Hyejin’s concerned gaze.

You bit your lip. “Can you pull out your phone?”

She froze. “Why...?”

“Because I’m going to eat everything off of this brunch menu and you’re paying for it, so you’re going to have to make a transfer from your savings now.”

“...Yeah, okay. Fair.”

──────────────────

“They’re both cooked dough with butter and syrup.”

You gasped loudly. “Jihoon! Blasphemous!”

He gave you a deadpanned look. “Y/N, you mean to tell me that it’s really that important whether I decide between pancakes or waffles?”

“Waffles are obviously superior! They have little pockets that cradle the syrup, with crisp edges and fluffy insides!”

“There’s literally no one here that’s arguing against you right now.”

“I need you to agree with me!”

“No, you want me to.”

You plopped back down into the booth, shoulders slumped at a lost cause.

“...would it make you happy?”

“What?”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “I asked if it would make you happy. If I agreed that waffles are superior to pancakes.”

You stammered, a blush creeping up your neck at the question. “Uh, no. It was a dumb debate. I was just trying to be annoying. I—”

“It’s okay to let yourself be happy even over the dumb things, firefly.”

You twiddled with your thumbs and bit back the goofiest grin as you heard Jihoon call the waiter over to order your shared waffle platter, asking for, ‘enough syrup to fill each little pocket’.

You never saw Jihoon eat pancakes after that day, always opting for the obviously superior choice. 

―――――――――――――――――

The joy of eating butter and carbs and sugar from that day was not enough to sustain you through the week once you realized you had a paper deadline that was sooner than you remembered.

Your eyes ran over the words again, nearly questioning your sanity when it felt like you spent the last thirty minutes trying to reorganize your paper in a way that was cohesive. You spent so much time unlearning the APA 6th edition format to relearn the APA 7th edition, and then moving back to Korea made you throw all of that out the window. Therefore, your mind was a jumbled mess of DOI numbers and misplaced periods.

This paper was due in less than a week and you still found yourself questioning whether the literature review was comprehensive enough to cover all twenty sources you were required to include. Two pages. A list of twenty sources that took up approximately three-fourths of your second page. A singular paragraph of literature review on peer-reviewed articles studying the risk factors of suicide in Korean adolescents before needing to address implications and future research and potential programs that could address these issues.

“Nothing is real,” you muttered to yourself.

You glanced around the library and noticed a scarcity of other human beings. You groaned to yourself as you realized you hadn’t moved from your seat in over eight hours and the library was due to close in ten minutes.

You wanted to stab yourself in the neck when you remembered you still had the Social Welfare 101 class’s papers to grade. You knew that they needed feedback on their writing and you also knew they saw you as a pushover, so the papers are very likely lackluster, especially since the class was filled with people who were trying to get their Humanities credit for their degree in another field.

“Become a doctor, they said. It will be worth it, they said,” your hushed-tone almost mocking.

One of the other TAs from the Educational Psychology department had offered to take some of the grading from you, knowing that you had several large projects due soon, but you quickly brushed off the offer, saying that you could handle it.

A few stray tears slid down your face as you felt overwhelmed by the entirety of the last four years. You graduated early from Yale and dove straight into a doctoral program you could have easily put off by working for a few years.

You removed your glasses and buried your face into your hands, allowing yourself five minutes of reprieve. Just five. Before you needed to pack up and get back to work.

Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?

──────────────────

[tw: suicide mention]

“Social work is a useless field, Y/N.”

You grit your teeth. “Eomeonim, I—”

“Did you think I wouldn’t see your interview in the school newsletter? Saying you want to go to Seoul National University and study social work? No daughter of mine is going to go into a field that has no chance of finding a job that makes money. You think that your Abeonim and I will be supporting you for the rest of your life? What will the neighbors say, huh?”

“Eomma—”

“No, you do not get to call me that, you ungrateful child. I did not work as hard as I did to put you through the additional tutoring and classes I have for you to just betray me like this.”

Bile rose up in your throat and you choked back the tears threatening to spill.

“Oh, and there she goes, being dramatic again. You don’t think I feel like crying too? You want to become a social worker? You want to help people? How can you do that when you’re so selfish?”

Your nails dug themselves into the meat of your palms, but not hard enough to cause pain, not when your nervous habit of biting them whittled them down to stubs.

“Get out. Come back when your head is clear.”

You moved, but not too hastily so as to signal her to your anxiety, for you were just a prey and she was the apex predator. You kept your gaze downcast and zipped up your designer brand backpack before looping your arms through the pristinely kept straps. Your family had a reputation throughout the town to keep. And you were the heir to it all.

All of the glamour.

All of the charisma.

All of the pressure.

All of the pride.

All of the distrust.

All of the insecurity.

All of the underlying self-hatred.

You shut the door behind you softly and wrapped your arms around you, letting your feet carry you to the one place you knew you could find solace.

Once you arrived, picking a fallen leaf off of your skirt, you knocked weakly at the window pane.

Jihoon glanced up from his desk and made his way to open it for you. “Hey, firefly.”

You quietly slipped through the frame.

“Bad day?”

“Do you ever, just, think about stopping?”

Jihoon blinked once. “Stopping what?”

“Life, I guess.”

He remained silent and he uncrossed his arms so you knew, at least physically, he was open to listening to you. This wasn’t the first time you brought up this subject to him.

“I could just end it all, Jihoon. I could just have it all be over. My parents wouldn’t have to worry anymore. They wouldn’t have to be so disgusted by the fact that they birthed such an ungrateful and selfish child.”

Jihoon breathed deeply through his nose. You knew how much it stirred up his insides whenever you talked about this, but he would reiterate that your safety was always more important than his comfort.

“I should just do it, right? That’ll prove something to them. That’ll show them that they’re not the perfect people everyone makes them out to be. They drove their daughter to this. Oh, but. They might just use it as an excuse to garner more attention. Woe is the perfect family in Busan, they struggle with loss, just like us. But… I could just end it all now. It could all be over, Jihoon. I have that power.”

“You do, firefly. You could end it all.”

Your head shot up so fast you nearly got whiplash. You were expecting soft!Jihoon, not whatever this was. You spluttered, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Are you saying I should just do it then?”

“No,” Jihoon said evenly. “I’m just saying that you do have that power. But you also have the power not to. You have the power to continue on.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Jihoon!”

Jihoon clicked his tongue at your raised tone. “Whoa, hey. You’re the one who always says you have to jump through hoops in order to ‘earn’ love. I’m not the one who taught you that bullshit; go talk to your parents about that.”

“But they’re right!”

“No, they’re not.”

“Shut up! You don’t know me!”

“Y/N, I have spent more time with you than those sorry excuses of parental figures ever have!”

“Those are my parents!”

“Yeah, and they’re assholes!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know! They’re the ones who see me, who know me best. They raised me. They know how disappointing I am. They know how useless I am. They know! They’re the ones who know just how unworthy I am!”

“God! Why do you care so much?! Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?!”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your bottom lip trembled as your voice came out, horribly fragile, a complete contrast to your sharp tone from just moments ago. “I… Because it’s me, Jihoon. I’m either too much for people or I’m never enough. So, I have to do everything perfectly to prove that I’m worthy. I have to be better than anyone else. Because I have to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

You were openly sobbing.

“But… you’re not better than anyone else, firefly.”

You tried to muffle your tears enough to hear Jihoon’s voice over your crying. Your eyes met his and you expected to see pity, but instead, his facial expression remained as neutral, a steadfast look in his eyes amidst all of your wavering.

“Firefly, you suck at Super Smash Bros. You’ve never won a game against me. Not even one. In like, ten whole years. Also, you’re really bad at timing when ramyeon noodles are done. You always overcook them. You cry when you see a fat seagull waddling down the shoreline. You can’t eat spicy food to save your life. You use too many emojis when you type. You can’t even jog 100m without wanting to pass out. You get so angry that you blow up at others and shame them for making you angry, but you hate it when people are mad at you. You refuse to share your food when it’s still warm, but force me to finish it when you’re full. You don’t trust others enough to do their part of the work so you never let anyone else help you. You have a nervous habit of saying stupid random facts when a pretty girl talks to you. You once poured milk before the cereal. You’re full of flaws.”

Your lips were pressed in a thin line, but the tears had ceased approximately halfway through his listing of your traits.

“You are not the best. By any means. Mediocre, even.”

“I’m kind of hurt.”

Jihoon snorted. “You don’t know everything, firefly. You’re not always going to be the smartest in the room. You’re not the best that ever existed. You never will be. But you’re never too much. And you’re always enough. And although your parents and nearly every adult in this town could think otherwise, you will meet people, people like noona, like hyung, like me, who will still care about you even when you’re being a shitty little brat like you are now. People who will still care about you even when you’re not number one.” 

“…You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

──────────────────

“Do you ever think about generational trauma?”

Hyejin gave you a sideways glance. “Do we need to pull out the therapy chair and the rosé for this?”

You swatted the offer away. “I’m serious.”

“What d’you mean then, bumblebee?”

“I just think about my parents and the pressure that was probably put on them from their parents and the parents before. But with each generation, no one decided to try and break the cycle. They just kept taking their hurt and putting it onto the next. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not just my family. It’s prevalent… everywhere. Did you know that South Korea has one of the highest rates of suicide in all of the OECD countries, second only to Lithuania? Common risk factors among adolescents tend to be academic pressure and family issues. So. I know it’s not just me. The numbers don’t lie.”

“Is this related to the paper you were working on earlier?”

You pondered for a moment. “I think researching adolescents and suicidality might’ve triggered some old memories, yeah.”

“Are you…?”

“Okay,” you finished her question. “The thoughts only come when I’m feeling overwhelmed with stuff. And it being our last semester, it’s just… a lot is being demanded of us. Classes, projects, thesis defense. I’m feeling, I dunno, a little helpless.”

“Hmm, I’m remembering some wise words from my undergraduate roommate at Yale~” Hyejin said, in a sing-song voice. “She said that the best way to stop feeling helpless is…?”

You glared.

“The best way to stop feeling helpless iiiiiis…?”

“...to ask for help.”

“Wow, right on the money.”

You decidedly messaged your fellow TA to ask them to help alleviate some of your workload to which they happily agreed.

Which you only gained the courage to ask for after a straight-winning streak in several online matches of Super Smash Ultimate.

You weren’t mediocre.

You just realized he wasn’t either.

──────────────────

Just a few days later, on a rare weekend where you managed to pull away from schoolwork, you found yourself in the attic of the group home you worked on-and-off at for the past four years, sorting through boxes of tattered toys, gathering the ones necessary to put through the washer. You laid down on the floor, the rickety boards beneath you groaning at your weight. You passively wondered whether a cartoon moment would happen and the group home inhabitants would find a you-shaped hole in their ceiling.

You reached into your own backpack and pulled out your own toy of sorts. You threw it up in the air only to let gravity do the work to bring it back into your hold. You had to be careful to not give yourself a black eye like you did a few years back.

“Whoa, you played baseball?”

You glanced at the tattered ball in your hand, the stitching almost undone, the yarn beginning to peek through. The color was no longer a pristine white, but that only proved its history of handling. “Choi Sannie, what about me says ‘athlete’?”

“Hey,” your younger coworker put his arms up in defense, fully climbing into the attic space now. “I know all of the things we have here at the home, and that is definitely not one of them. So that means that’s yours. Or you stole it—” He gasped loudly in delight. “You stole—!”

“No, dumbass.”

He deflated. He knelt down on the floor next to you, inspecting the baseball without taking it in his hands, careful to not overstep your boundaries. You taught him all about consent; Choi San was a wild child, but he knew respect. “May I see?”

You tossed it casually over to him.

“Is this handwriting? I can barely read it.”

“Even if it was brand new, I promise that handwriting would be illegible to the average person anyways.”

“You’re not average though.”

“Of course not.”

“So, what does it say?”

“Gwangan-dong, Busan, August 2.”

“Was it a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“From who?”

“An old friend.”

“Why keep it?”

You hummed softly.

“For the days that feel like I’ve lost.”

──────────────────

Lee Jihoon was a boy who demanded attention. And he always had it. But not because he would go parade and peacock around for the sake of trying to earn it. He naturally caught it, with collected looks and smooth words. Everyone in your town knew him: his ability to work hard and even more, his ability to achieve. He never needed to do anything to garner more attention because all of it was already on him. Even at the perfect attention-craving age of thirteen.

Lee Jihoon would never show off.

You had been to every single one of Jihoon’s baseball games, cheering silently when he made a great call, throwing mental expletives when things were going awry. You knew his mannerisms, his tells. Hell, you even knew the code for when the coach beckoned his players to steal a base.

So, you knew when Jihoon was showing off.

You wanted to gag at the sight of him puffing out his chest while he wore his catcher gear. You often believed him to be beyond this world but the reality quickly slapped you back as you wondered why exactly he was being so obnoxious.

Your unnie turned to you, “It’s almost over, yes?”

You wanted to laugh at the fact it seemed like she aged an additional year for every inning. “Yes, unnie.”

“I don’t understand how there’s no timer.”

“It’s done by the number of outs.”

She nodded, but you knew she didn’t actually take it in, since you repeated that fact three times over the course of the past two hours.

“Our Jihoonie’s doing well, right?”

“Yep, as per usual.”

“I really don’t understand baseball, lovebug.”

You pat her shoulder. “It’s alright. I don’t mind telling you. Although, you might want to ask oppa more about it. He knows more than I do. He messaged me and said he’ll be here in about five minutes so he can take us all out for dinner after.”

She froze. You quirked an eyebrow.

You noticed the redness creeping up her neck.

“Oh my God. Unnie! Do you like my cous—?”

Before she could say anything to defend herself, you felt the bleachers around you shift in tandem and you nearly toppled over until she caught you.

Your eyes found Jihoon, who was holding the ball that sealed their fate: they won. He won.

You saw him and his teammates gather together, his mask coming off to reveal his black hair sticking to his forehead and his ever-so-brilliant smile.

Oh no. You were so smitten.

After several moments of trying to push through the crowd, you finally reach a place where you spot Jihoon animatedly speaking to your unnie, who managed to get ahead of you by several paces.

You immediately froze.

Even from this far away, you could see his eyes clearly. Of course, you could. You were so practiced in searching for them, in times of joy, in mourning, in dancing, in sorrow. In those dark irises, swirled something so raw, your breathing became ragged. You saw the way he looked at her. You knew the look in his eyes.

Because you’d caught glimpses of it in yours in passing mirrors whenever you were with him.

How long did it take you to realize?

Suddenly, you wanted to be anywhere but there.

You rushed backwards, much easier to run away than it was to charge forth. You ran and ran and ran until you reached the back of the bleachers where you crumpled down onto your knees, effectively getting grass stains on your poor clothes.

“Mommy! Mommy! There’s someone crying!”

“Baby, no—let’s go over here.”

“She’s an ugly crier, like you!”

You cursed the fact that children were basically sober drunks and said whatever was on their mind. The fateful “u” word that repeated itself obsessively in your mind.

You thought of your unnie.

Your beautiful, elegant, sweet, soft unnie.

Of course Jihoon would prefer her.

He was pulled into her gravity with no room for resistance. His crescent smiles faced her, never to show his dark side, for she was the earth he orbited: captivating and delicate.

Why would he even care to ever look your way?

You were a given; never a prize to be sought. You were unrefined and blundering in your demeanor. You were on the crux of puberty, an awkward and horrendous time that consisted of your skin deteriorating, hormones running rampant, and just. So. Many. Emotions.

Ugly.

“Whoa, whoa, ladybug, is that you?”

You glanced up, not even bothering to wipe away the dribbling mess that was on your face. Your cousin stared in horror at your tears.

“God, you look horrible.”

A broken sob ripped through your chest and your cousin quickly realized he made a mistake. He scooped you up into his arms and held you as you cried, cried, cried.

If jealousy was the ugliest trait, you must have been downright hideous.

Later, you had your face tucked into your cousin’s chest as he apologized to Jihoon and your unnie, who both reached for you, but your cousin, in his typical knight-in-shining armor fashion, brushed them aside and pulled you closer. He convinced them that you received some off-putting remarks from your parents and didn’t want to talk about it (a regular occurrence), so he would take you back to his place to cheer you up with some Disney movies and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Your unnie offered condolences and a swift pat on your head before she called her dad to come pick her up, all of you waiting until she drove off.

Jihoon spent the time waiting listing off a myriad of your needs (“You have to make sure you have the double Kleenex, okay? The other ones leave weird fuzz on her cheeks. And don’t let her wash the dishes when she’s sad because she doesn’t realize how hot the water actually is and ends up rubbing her skin raw. And make sure you use simple syrup for the lemonade and not just sugar, she hates the crystals.”) while he packed his gear away, preparing to walk back on his own, his home not too far away from the baseball field.

You felt your cousin squirm at the prospect of Jihoon having to carry all of his gear after playing a two-hour game and having no food in his stomach. “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, glanced at you, probably noticing the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly.

“Here, firefly.”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up to realize what it was doing. You saw a small object in the air, falling within your arms reach.

So, you caught it.

Your eyes trailed up to meet his, momentarily forgetting he was the sole cause of your meltdown.

His jaw clenched so hard, you cowered slightly.

“Why are you giving me this?”

You cringed at the sound of your voice, gruff and raspy.

“It’s your win today.”

You blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

Jihoon sighed and you wondered if he just considered you a petulant child.

“Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands.

You sniffled, the corner of your mouth upturned.

Before you could say anything, Jihoon immediately turned on his heel and walked away.

You looked up and caught your cousin staring at Jihoon’s retreating form with a bemused look. 

“Alright, ladybug, let’s get you home. Your parents are probably preparing dinner right now.”

“You promised Disney and lemonade.”

Your cousin sighed dramatically. “I guess I did,” he ruffled your hair to which you let out a prolonged, annoyed groan. “Which movie?”

You pondered for a moment. “Hercules?”

You thought of Jihoon and his reputation throughout your town: attention-grabbing, diligent, admirable, heroic.

But most of all, kind.

“You got good taste, ladybug.”

──────────────────

“Does today feel like a lost day?”

You resisted the urge to mess with the singular faded green streak running through San’s hair, a test subject from when Hyejin wanted you to dye her hair, but you didn’t want to try it out on yourself nor buy a synthetic wig. A rebellious eighteen-year-old was the best option at the time. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Then why do you have this?” He inquired again.

“Because I can do what I want, San. It’s my win.”

He pulled a face of indignation at your rare (at least to him) display of childishness. Your phone pinged on top of your thigh, alerting you to its presence.

[12:42] wzljh__ liked your post

You bit back a grin, knowing San would question you endlessly if he caught it. So you tucked it away, for a later time, where you could be alone and smile as widely as you wanted to. He was getting more and more bold. Hyejin’s action, you knew, was what spurred him on. You wanted to laugh in disbelief.

Lee Jihoon was a man who demanded attention.

And he always had it.

──────────────────

“No, no. Noona, you promised.”

“I did no such thing.”

Wooyoung scoffed at your words. He pulled out his phone and his nimble thumbs quickly found what he was looking for, signified by a soft ‘ah-hah!’. “You said you would help me try and secure BTS tickets. You’re the only other person that I know that has the ARMY Membership.”

You glanced at his screen and saw your drunk state and you resisted the urge to keel over at the sight. You heard your slurred words promising the very thing Wooyoung was asking of you now. “I wasn’t sober enough to realize what I was saying. Also, what kind of person films their drunk friend and coerces them into promising to get BTS tickets?”

“I never said I was a good person, noona.”

“Ask San or Seonghwa.”

“They don’t have the ARMY Membership,” Wooyoung repeated, emphasizing the last two words. “I’m out here trying to secure the front section. It’s close enough to the stage where I can see Jimin-hyung’s sweat without the screen.”

You grimaced. “Weird ass fanboy.”

“You cannot deny that he is a beautiful man,” Wooyoung said pointedly. “Although, I assume your type is like 15cm shorter and a muscle bunny.”

“He’s only 11cm shorter, sir.”

“Okay, okay. Keep defending your boyfriend.”

You spluttered, instinctively responding with what you said for most of your middle and high school days to those around you. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Wooyoung gave you a ‘duh’ look. “No shit. You’ve never even met him because you refuse to get the fan signing tickets because you’re a weak ass coward.”

Well. He was definitely right about one of those things. You often forget that you’ve kept your history with him private from most except Hyejin.

(And Wheein.)

(Because Hyejin told her.)

(Luckily, Wheein is a lot more considerate than her boisterous and loose-lipped counterpart.)

“Wooyoungie, you’re really not making me want to help you here, you know.”

“Noona, please.”

He looked at you with his wide brown eyes and jutted out his bottom lip. The thick black frames on the bridge of his nose gave off the impression of innocence, something you would never again associate with the young man in front of you.

His eyes lit up once he visibly saw your determination crumble.

You bit your lip. “You’re paying for this pizza. And we get pineapples on it.”

“I love you~ You are a goddess I am unworthy of even perceiving~ I worship the the ground you walk on, O sweet and kind deity~”

Your mouth twitched. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

Wooyoung looked at you, a serious look in his eye, took your hand and squeezed it. He gave you a smile that almost melted away your disdain. “Thank you, noona.”

“Men like you give women trust issues.”

“Yeah, probably.”

──────────────────

“I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you until now, in my heart, it’s only you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you. Thank you, thank you. That’s all I can say. Even all the waiting, all the longing. And all of our memories. Thank you, thank you.”

You half-hoped they would perform this song, half-hoped they wouldn’t. It rendered your heart weak, almost wringing it through with the lyrics and melody, the implication. There was a deep yearning within you that wished these lyrics could have been for you, once upon a time.

You hid yourself with a black face mask and wore a baseball cap. Hyejin told you that you were making yourself look even more conspicuous by wearing such garb, but you couldn’t risk being noticed. You wanted to see him, but in a way that didn’t require vulnerability. Plus, your tears were easier to hide.

Hyejin held your hand, her fingers intertwined with yours, the two of you uncharacteristically calm and still unlike the other CARATs around you, all of whom were cheering and swinging their lightsticks in tandem.

She gave your hand a tight squeeze.

You thought back to what was seemingly a mundane day, going on one of your grocery shopping trips at a Trader Joe’s while still living in New Haven, Connecticut.

The days leading up to your shopping trip, you were a mess of a human being, weighed down by the amount of work you still had left to complete, hardly able to be present in your own life, instead simply watching it go by. Hyejin took over your chores for the week, bought you sweets, stayed up with you even if she finished her own work, made sure to send kind text messages randomly throughout the day, and was all around the best supporter you could have asked for.

You kept apologizing to her for not being able to reciprocate, the only words that your mouth had the energy to form were, “I’m sorry.” And she would, each time, just pat your head with a soft chuckle and say, “You don’t have to keep saying that, you know. You don’t have to say that you’re sorry.”

But you weren’t sure of what you could say instead, so you said nothing at all.

Your grocery trip was made to be more of an adventurous outing that matched the energy that you were able to procure, as cooping yourself indoors only intensified your feelings of stress. However, you were on the mend from the disastrous week, as you finished up your work the day prior to your little trip to the grocery store.

(You couldn’t help but think your ability to even leave your apartment was because of Hyejin.)

After gathering all of the ingredients to cook carbonara (with extra pancetta!) and loading them up in your car, Hyejin offered to return the shopping cart to its designated location.

You saw her from afar and suddenly something overwhelmed you.

You knew what to say instead of: ‘I’m sorry.’

“Bumblebee?”

“Thank you.”

Hyejin gave you a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? Of course.”

“No, I mean...”

You paused. What did you mean?

Did you even have a right to express yourself? That’s all you seemed to do during the week and it was almost embarrassing trying to say something now. Like, this wasn’t the right time and place. The butter was melting in the car.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young.

She gave a pointed look and said, “Uh. Alright.”

But something tugged at you. A gentle reminder from a gentle person with a seemingly rough personality.

These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you.

If he could do it, so could you.

Before she could get into the passenger seat, you called out again, “Actually!”

She glanced your way, still visibly confused.

You took a deep breath. “Thank you for returning the cart. But, ah, more than that. Thank you for coming to the store with me. Thank you for spending time with me. Thank you for consoling me. Thank you for living with me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for staying by my side. Thank you for loving me.”

You couldn’t hold back your tears, so you didn’t. Your beloved friend did not fare much better.

She was in a state of what seemed like hysteria, laughing with tears streaming down her face. “What the heck, dude? What’s the matter with you? God, I love you so much.”

She took you into her arms and you both cried in the middle of a Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Your heart was filled with gratitude as the thirteen boys on stage interlocked their fingers in a pinky promise to love their fans. You mirrored the action as you took Hyejin’s pinky and interlocked yours with hers. She glanced at you and you gave a smile from behind your mask, trusting she knows what you mean. Trusting that she hears the promise you are making to her, to yourself.

Promising to always be thankful.

Promising to always love.

But if she could not hear the wordless promise echoing in your chest, you knew you would repeat it aloud to her for as long as she needed. To whoever needed it.

Because although those words may be typical, they were still worth saying.

That is a lesson an old friend taught you.

An old friend whose smile now shone as bright as the stage lights that lingered on his form.

──────────────────

Three weeks later, you were up to your neck in deadlines. You were demanded at every possible place you frequented. In the research labs, in the recruitment office, in your collective TAs room, in the group home you volunteered for.

Hypothetically, there should have been no room in your mind for Lee Jihoon.

Too bad you saw him everywhere.

Not just explicitly, like the way his idol group overtook the internet with selfies here and tweets there and ridiculous fan edit videos everywhere.

But rather, in the crevices of Seoul, in the freshly cooked rice found at your favorite family restaurant, ready to serve piping hot meals with heaping portions of a mother’s love, in the off-key melodies sung unapologetically by a circle of children in the middle of the neighborhood park, not caring who’s there to witness, performing for any and all, in the rhythm of the city thrumming beneath your soles and at your fingertips, ready to sweep you off your feet if you gave it the chance.

You saw him everywhere.

That included your notification center.

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post—

Your vision blurred.

Was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

A comment? A comment? You were plenty satisfied with the likes on your post, but a comment meant direct interaction, not mindless scrolling and double tapping.

The ringing in your ears was prevalent and you knew for the sake of your body and soul, you needed to shut it all away.

You pushed aside the thoughts, compartmentalized like they taught you during your clinical therapy program, and shoved your phone far into the depths of your unorganized bag.

You breathed in.

You breathed out.

You had work to do.

──────────────────

“Hey, so, it’s noona’s birthday on Sunday—” 

“I know, Jihoon, you haven’t shut up about it for the past two weeks.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. But I’ve spent so long trying to find a gift for her and I still can’t find anything. Can’t you, just like, come with me to the market for the day? I’ve never spent so much time and effort trying to find a damn gift for a birthday before. I’ll buy us dinner and we can stop by that dessert stand with the black sesame soft serve.”

“I told you. I have college prep exams I have to worry about. You want to woo her? You can. Easily. Lee Jihoon, anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.”

He breathed out a long sigh. “...thanks, firefly.”

You gave a stiff nod before walking away, the singular cardstock invitation (since you only made one for him because he teased you endlessly for your homemade invitations in the fifth-grade and you committed yourself to spite him every year from then on) you scrawled a date on in two week’s time weighing heavily in your bag. You bit your bottom lip to try and prevent the tears from slipping.

Guess your birthday wasn’t worth putting time and effort in.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found a small package in your first-year high school locker on that fateful day, in two week’s time.

Inside a poorly wrapped box, you found a card and a keychain of three tiny medals: simply drawn hands interlocking at their pinkies, the infinity symbol, and a crescent moon.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you opened the card envelope slowly, afraid your shaking hands would accidentally tear apart the paper. The card was homemade and purposefully horrendous (he claims; although, knowing his crafting skills, you weren’t so sure) with his haphazard, yet endearing scrawl.

You read the words once. Twice. Three times.

Moved them away from your eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall and smudge them.

“I saw these charms two months ago and immediately thought of you.

You said anyone would be lucky to be loved by me.

Guess you’re a pretty lucky person.

Happy birthday, firefly.

- Jihoonie

P.S. I have a sun on mine, if you end up wanting to switch.”

And so you skipped the first ten minutes of your last class to fold in on yourself in one of the second-floor girls’ bathroom stalls. You muffled your cries against your sleeve because it’s just so utterly him that you couldn’t even think straight.

When he finds you after school, eyes puffed and disheveled, you half-expected him to comfort you, because it was your birthday and, to most people, that warranted special treatment.

Instead he laughed loudly at your tattered self, pinched your reddened nose with a grip you could say bordered on assault, and said, “Come on, let’s go get some cake and ice cream. I’ll pay.”

You glared at him. “You hate cake and ice cream.”

He merely grinned at you. “Not today, I won’t. You really are lucky to have me, aren’t you?”

Even with the way he teased you relentlessly for all seven blocks to the place you frequented when your pockets were lined with allowance, the dessert shop with the fresh cream green tea cake topped with fruit you knew Jihoon was gonna take when you weren’t looking, even with his eyes filled with mischief and cheeks filled with stolen strawberries, you couldn’t help but agree.

──────────────────

“He’s been pretty bold lately.”

You cocked your head to the side as you pulled your lunchbox out onto the cafeteria table. You spread the items out in an orderly fashion and Hyejin nearly sneered at the display, but you ignored her. “Hrm? What d’you mean?”

“I mean, he’s been liking more and more of your posts. He also commented today. Isn’t that bold? Considering you haven’t spoken in years? What happens if he’s just, I dunno, playing with you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Is it dumb to say that it’s just a gut instinct that everything is okay?”

“Again, what is the point of your higher education? Gut instincts aren’t exactly evidence-based.”

You unwrapped your sandwich and your eye twitched at the sauce that dribbled down. Damn. You could’ve sworn you had the right ratio this time. 

You took a bite, your tongue slipping out to catch the excess sauce. You chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the bread before you spoke.

“I dunno how to explain it, unnie. I know all of my observations have been just… through likely scripted scenes and concerts. And I know it’s dumb to think that he’s still the same kid from way back when, but even seeing him interacting with his members… It just seems like he’s happy. Not just the superficial kinda happy, but the everlasting contentment and joy kinda happy. So. I don’t think he’s going to ruin that by trying to dredge up stuff that could ruin it. Or plot revenge. I just... don’t sense any ill intentions. And I never have, even when all that shit happened.”

“Hm… I honestly don’t know the guy, but it does just sound like he made one choice in an unfortunate circumstance. Big decision in the midst of big emotions,” Hyejin murmured.

“So did I,” you said pointedly.

She smirked at that. “Yeah, but you ended up with me, so I’m okay with your choice. But, also maybe, I just trust your judgment a little too much. But, if you consider him as wonderful as you say he is, then. I believe you. Plus, I feel like his lyrics and videos that I’ve seen are proof that he’s not a complete piece of shit.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for thinking he’s not the scum of the earth.”

“Yes. Just a rung above that. If I ever meet him, I’ll definitely punch him. For your honor.”

“Hah. Thanks, unnie. I’m sure that your stick arms will do a lot of damage.”

“Of course.”

The two of you laughed.

Hyejin hummed. “Do you ever blame him?”

“For what?”

“Leaving before you.”

You raised a brow as you set your sandwich down to bring your attention to your apple slices, peeled in a way to make them look like bunny rabbits. After dunking it into some peanut butter, you decapitated its head with your teeth. “Blame is a funny thing.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“I mean, think about it, unnie,” you began. “Do I blame him for leaving when I was the one who decided to leave first?”

Hyejin clicked her tongue. “But he left without even saying ‘goodbye’ or even warning you.”

“Mm, yeah. But... I mean, do I blame him for leaving before me when he could blame me for deciding to leave first? Or do I keep going and blame him for making me fall in love with him or could he turn that around and blame me for having feelings in the first place? Do I go further and blame him for defending me from bullies in first grade or does he blame me by trying to become friends by giving him a seashell? Do I blame him for being born or does he blame me for the same thing? Blame is an endless cycle and trying to pin the entire thing on one person or one event is hard. At least, in this instance, you know? There wasn’t a clear cut perpetrator and victim here.”

Hyejin picked at her nails. “You really have a different kinda brain, don’t you, bumblebee?”

You chuckled. “It’s gotten me this far.”

A silence fell over the two of you as you stared at your bunny apple slices, eventually fed up at the odd number of them and choosing to sacrifice one to your stomach for the sake of your peace of mind. 

After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I used to be real angry with him.”

“Yeah, you told me you used to be a fiery little thing. Plus, I heard you blow up at that student athlete who was dishing out homophobic slurs near the Student Center. When you’re angry, whew. I wouldn’t ever wanna be caught in the crossfire.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, he would often be. I don’t think you can grow up with and know a person for, like, sixteen years and not ever be angry with them. Especially when that person is a prepubescent boy who knows all the little things that grinds your gears.”

“God forbid having feelings for men.”

“Women aren’t that much better,” you reminded Hyejin. She paused for a moment before agreeing to your sentiment. You knew too many of the silly arguments her and Wheein have had over the past two decades.

“Honestly, though. I think he’s one of the only people I ever felt safe enough to even be angry around. So, he usually got the brunt of it all. Honestly, he should’ve left me faster. I was a mess to deal with at the time.”

Hyejin pulled a face at your self-pity. You merely offered a small smile and she rolled her eyes. “So, you were still angry at him when we were at Yale?”

You swallowed another apple bunny. “Absolutely. Remember New York?”

“Which time?”

You snorted. “Specifically the one where we went during the Fourth of July. Where I had hook-ups after hook-ups and had to get a pregnancy test and an STD screening. Where we went bar-hopping literally every night because I wanted to drown in my sorrows. The one that you got on that stranger’s shoulders to shoot off an illegal firecracker.”

“The trip where you got so drunk, you screamed at a man that turned out to be a statue.”

“Hey, in my defense, he looked like an asshole.”

“I’m sure many people would agree with you that Christopher Columbus is indeed an asshole.”

You both laughed.

Your voice lowered to barely above a whisper, Hyejin physically needing to lean in to catch your words.

“I… was angry that he made promises he couldn’t keep. I was angry that he decided to walk out of my life without asking to even try. I was angry that he didn’t even care to ask why I was wanting to leave. That he didn’t care enough to want to know what I was doing. I was angry that he dropped me so fast. I was angry that he moved to Seoul as a last ‘screw you’ because he didn’t want to try and talk it out. I was angry that he was angry. But above all, I was angry at myself that it took me so long to let myself even feel the anger because I blamed myself for everything.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“At the time, I had a sixteen-year-old’s anger and heartbreak and a twenty-one-year-old’s body and ID. So, that anger manifested itself into drunken nights of hedonistic debauchery and cursing out loud for the first time ever, right at a statue of a colonizing murderer.”

You thought she would laugh at your phrasing, but instead, she merely took you in. You wanted to shrink back at her scrutinizing gaze.

“Does it still bother you?”

“...No, not really,” you admitted. “I just woke up one day and realized that I missed him so much more than I was angry at him. At me. Eventually the anger just kind of… faded. I mean, he was hurt when I left. And if he felt like I was leaving him, then it makes sense he would try to do the same in some kind of twisted adolescent retribution. I’m not saying that either of us deserved that kind of treatment, but I mean, we were sixteen and dumb. As a former sixteen-year-old, any kind of change felt like the world ending.”

“As a former sixteen-year-old, I would have to agree,” Hyejin nodded. “Do you ever regret it?”

You shoved another sliced apple into the peanut butter. This time, not picking it up. You stared down at it as you tried to formulate your thoughts. You replied softly after some time, “No.”

“Nothing?”

Your mind trailed back to the time you spent chasing your dream of studying abroad, establishing your place in the world without depending every little decision on him, running after dream after dream and fulfilling them through your own power and accord.

And you thought, as beautiful as the experiences were, you wished you could share the stories with him. He was always your best audience member, applauding your every word and exaggerated action. Sometimes laughing and jeering and heckling, but always, always, always attentive.

You chased your dreams. You always have.

All except one.

But it was okay.

Because he gave you so much more in those fleeting years than the world could ever have supplied in millions.

“No, nothing.”

────────────────── “Do you still love him?”

Hyejin watched you over the years. You grew and healed, evolved from a bumbling adolescent mess, bright-eyed and terrified, into a full-fledged woman who learned that all most had to offer was a quick fix and prolonged heartbreak. Someone who decided to be kind because she knew first-hand that the world was not. A woman who wanted to be a love letter from the universe. Someone so strong, yet so fragile to the workings of the world because you always allowed your heart to be vulnerable.

She never knew anyone who loved for the sake of loving.

Someone whose living was loving.

Not until she met you.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but it slowly curved at the ends. “I think I always will.”

Hyejin’s heart felt constricted in her chest; she wanted to scream at you to let go and to move on. Tell you that he wasn’t worth any of the heartbreak and pain and self-doubt.

But she knew. She knew looking into your eyes, that you loved him with a love that transcended the flimsy, insecurity-driven kind portrayed in romantic comedies or Korean television dramas.

Because although she saw your eyes rimmed with unbrittled heartbreak, she also saw the gratitude that overflowed from your irises.

Part of her still wanted to berate and chastise you and tell you to just move on.

But she remembered being on the receiving end of that. How her friends reminded her that to be in an unrequited love was never worth it and that there were plenty of fish in the sea and that she needed to move on because it was just sad.

She remembered how empty that left her, wanting to fill the cracks in her heart with her beloved, because that was always what Wheein would be to her, just as Jihoon would be to you. Hyejin had the privilege to call Wheein at any time, to hear her voice lull her fears and anxieties into soft understandings and warmth, warmth, warmth.

Everyone told her to walk away from all of that.

Not you.

You were the first one to sit with her, hold her hand, smile and remind her what she already knew, a resounding truth in the depths of her soul.

And so, she sat down with you on the edge of your bed, grabbed your hand, smiled, and reminded you of one of your favorite quotes: “What a privilege it is to love.”

A tear slipped past as you beamed. “And to be loved in return.”

“Even for a moment.”

“Even if it is not how we want.”

“Because, still, it is love.”

“And it is the one thing we will never be without.”

──────────────────

“Two more months,” Wheein muttered before quickly downing her soju shot, not waiting for anyone else at the table. “Two months. And we’re done. No more needing to prepare for a thesis defense. No more needing to sit next to a centrifuge for ten hours at a time. No more needing to read bullshit and selfish opinions on public forums. No more needing to sit next to that weird dude who always smells like he has an open wound that’s infected—”

“Wheein, sweetie, that’s too graphic,” Yongsun responded, bringing her choice of a virgin cocktail up to her lips.

Wheein merely took a swig of the beer next to her.

Byul-yi shot her a glare. “That’s mine.”

“She needs it more, unnie, trust me,” you replied on her behalf. Byul-yi gave you a warning glance that wordlessly said you defended Wheein too much, especially as someone who was younger. “To be honest, I think Hyejin-unnie and I need to catch up to where Wheein-unnie is.”

“No, you need to pace yourself carefully especially with soju because you end up drinking too fast and way past your limit before you even realize.”

“Yongsun-unnie, I know we dated when I was a young and unassuming first-year doctoral student who didn’t understand how to handle her alcohol, but that was the past. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“Hyejin told me you threw up just a few weeks ago.”

“Goddamnit, Hyejin-ssi,” you hissed in mock anger.

She snorted, seeing through your ruse. “Wouldn’t have mattered if she heard from me. Byul-unnie was the one who was holding your hair at the bar, so.”

“Is this how I’m repaid by setting you two up together? The constant risk of potentially being exposed by one or the other? The betrayal. When I introduced the two of you, mere weeks after Yongsun and I broke up, and you two were blatantly flirting in front of me–”

“We were not flirting,” they chimed in unison.

The rest of the table rolled their eyes.

Wheein huffed and whined into her arms, voice muffled against the table. “Y/N, you gotta find me someone.”

“You’ll see them if you just open your eyes. I’m sure of it. They’re right there. Just look in front of you, unnie.”

Hyejin pinched your thigh but you were used to her physical torture.

Wheein groaned loudly, sitting up, but still covering her eyes with her hands. Byul-yi nodded in apology to Hyejin who merely bit her lip.

Yongsun dissipated the tension for Hyejin.

By directing it towards you.

“Y/N, I saw that you posted on Instagram yesterday. The same post from the group home you volunteer for. You were asking for the support of the community, right? And just today, I saw there were a ton of comments on their public page.”

A lump lodged itself into your throat and you stared at her, lips parting but not making any sound.

She cocked her head to the side.

Hyejin rubbed your thigh soothingly with her hand. “Bumblebee didn’t realize that they were going to get that many comments on that post. Plus, uh, I think it was shared by that one singer? Bamsu?”

“Bumzu,” you corrected weakly. Jihoon’s partner-in-crime, or rather, music production.

“Yeah, uh. Him. I guess someone who knows the group home page somehow managed to get it circulated to where he saw it, and… yeah.”

Several other research fellows messaged you privately saying how exciting it was to get the attention your project needed. Your group organizer was saying that tens of calls were coming in at a time, asking how to best provide funding or resources.

You resisted the urge to spiral into oblivion because you knew only one (1) person who would be able to do such a thing.

Bumzu had transitioned from performer to writer/producer and usually had a hand in charity work, at least, over the past couple of years, according to a quick run through his Instagram feed. He wasn’t under the scrutinizing eye of Dispatch, at least, not as much as a certain thirteen-member idol group. His interest in this program didn’t warrant sasaeng fans who would try to track down the people who made the post.

It was the perfect cover up.

It’s not as though Bumzu did anything over the top. He simply reposted the group home’s post on his story, only available for 24 hours, but even then, that was enough time to garner attention.

The group home leader called and cried to you saying that God had really blessed you all.

You wondered whether you should tell her that you didn’t think God was 164cm with moonlit eyes that haunted you in your sleep.

──────────────────

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post: “this is some really cool stuff. do u mind if i share this?”

[19:22] You replied to wzljh__’s comment: “👍🏼 go ahead”

──────────────────

“Noona~”

“Choi Sannie~”

“I don’t appreciate the mockery~”

“Then get your ass to work~”

San snickered before undoing your haphazardly done ponytail and threading his fingers through your badly tangled hair. “You need to calm down. You have a meeting soon and you look like an absolute mess. So, I’ll at least braid your hair for you, mmkay, noona?”

“San, if you want to reduce my stress, I would appreciate it if you could go and run through the program schedule and let me know what doesn’t work—”

He tugged on your hair and you yelped.

“Noona.”

You leaned back in your chair to see him staring down at you. You grimaced at the fact that, even from this angle, his jawline was inhumanely sharp.

“No one is expecting you to run everything. We have group organizers for a reason. You’re just here to volunteer.”

“But I want to help. I’m responsible for getting the word out there. And I want to be able to make a difference for those in group homes—”

“You did. You helped me. Now I’m in a local college. Working as a barista. Volunteering in the same home I met you in.” Before you could cut him off, San continued, “You can take a break, noona. I’ve never seen you this stressed out before. And I’ve seen you literally down an entire six-pack of banana milk after eating two chocolate croissants.”

“They’re called pain au chocolat. They have to be in the shape of crescents to be called croissants.”

“No one gives a flying shit, noona.”

You gaped at him. “San! Who taught you to speak like that?”

“You did.”

You grumbled to yourself before reaching back for your Apple Pencil. San snuck his hand over your shoulder to pluck it out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Jinwoo wants you to sing him to sleep.”

Your heart ached as you stared at the screen in front of you. There was too much work to do and you couldn’t afford—

“Are you really cost-benefiting the effects of whether you sing a child to sleep right now?”

“...”

“God, what a professional. Where’s the noona that would sneak kids out to go catch dragonflies and then eat bungeo-ppang while washing it down with banana milk?”

“Are all of your memories of me associated with banana milk?”

“I remember what I remember, noona.”

“Why don’t you sing to Jinwoo?”

“Because he’s asking for that song that you sing; the one that only you know.”

You froze.

For some reason, Jinwoo, at the ripe age of eight months, established quite clearly what he liked and disliked, with the latter list nearly double the length of the first.

Every song you sang to him had its expiration date before he would take a metaphorical red Sharpie and cross it off of his likes list.

All except one.

You cursed yourself for singing it so long ago, caught up in exhaustion that you just wanted to quell the baby’s cries as soon as possible.

And so you procured a song that was gathering dust from being long ignored in the recesses of your mind.

You locked your iPad, gathered your stuff together to put away in your bag, slung it over your shoulder and made it up the stairway to where you knew Jinwoo would be.

You found him nestled in several blankets on the floor in the room meant for three-to-six year olds, convinced that the ground would be able to keep him steady unlike the volatile day-to-day he was thrown into since birth. Most of the other kids were out at the local school, but Jinwoo had a lower constitution than them, so would often stay at home. The home did its best to ensure that his schedule was tied with the other kids, including the midday nap.

His chocolate eyes looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched for you to envelope him in your embrace. You couldn’t help but smile down at him and scooped him up in one fell swoop. He giggled as you spun the two of you around the room.

You swaddled him as best you could, a three-year-old much larger than the eight-month-old you once knew him to be.

His hand pressed itself against your cheek and you nuzzled your face against its warmth.

“Ready to sleep, Jinwoo?”

“Will you sing to me? The forever song?”

“Yes. Of course.”

And so you did.

You sang to him a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

May 26th.

You thought that date would forever ingrain itself as the day that he forcibly came back into your life by taking you and the rest of the world by storm alongside his group, singing of an awkward and clumsy adoration paired with a point choreography that was, well, pointing.

(At the time, you wondered whether she heard the song, the one you were sure it was written about. You never asked.)

But here you were, six years after his debut into the world as an idol, dressed in your regalia of indigo and black, full bell sleeves, velvet paneling, and a weird puffy hat to top it all off, debuting into the world as a Social Welfare PhD grad.

You were a whole ass doctor.

“WE’RE FUCKING DONE, BITCHES.”

“God, Wheein, can you calm down? We gave you that key for emergencies.”

“It’s an emergency that I don’t have a bottle of soju in my hand right now.”

Byul-yi patted Yongsun in hopes of appeasing her anger. “Remember when you finished your MBA and how that felt?”

Yongsun blinked once before pushing herself off of the couch. “Alright, so how many bottles am I pulling out?”

“Wait! Wait! Wait! We need a picture!” Hyejin chastised her childhood friend for taking off after Yongsun. “Bumblebee, come here. Wheein, you too!”

“Whose phone?” Byul-yi asked.

You all chorused your phone, handing her the latest model of iPhone. She wiggled her brows at you. “Looking for a sugar baby, mama?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m not paying installments on that sleek piece of overpriced metal and glass.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a broke grad. Alright, alright. Okay, ladies. Now let’s get in formation. Wheein, brush your hair out of your face, you look like a mad scientist. Y/N, stop furrowing your brows like you’re reading those mean comments online. Hyejin, stand up straighter, you’re slouching—probably from bending over all the time—”

“Unnie!”

“Over your centrifuge, okay? Chill. Alright. 1, 2… 2 and a half.”

“How old are you? 50?”

“Alright, for that, you just got a burst. Y/N, I hope you find the ugliest gem in that to post.”

You and Wheein laugh at Hyejin who is now putting on her face of Disapproval and you imagine that Byul-yi is just now taking an endless amount of candids. You reach for the phone, a toothy grin still spread across your lips.

“Oop! Damn, this camera is nice. Don’t get too drunk otherwise you might accidentally drop it into my purse.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed at your phone. You swiped through the camera roll, finding too many of your face, especially when reaching for the camera, thanks to Byul-yi’s trigger happy thumb. However, you looked genuinely happy, so you couldn’t be too mad.

Maybe that’s because you were done slaving over papers and deadlines, you mused.

You showed Wheein and Hyejin the photos as well, refusing to delete the ones where Hyejin is pulling her signature face. You smiled down at your screen before pulling up Instagram to post a photo of all three of you (looking like baddies and not like the unhinged beings you usually are) on your story.

You figured you would post the professional photos you had done by Myungsoo at a later date.

You typed up a caption:

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

You locked your phone and tucked it away, ready to simply celebrate with your beloved group of girls.

That is, until two hours passed, which included a passed out Wheein cuddling into Hyejin on the couch and a drunk Yongsun and tipsy Byul-yi retiring to their own room and you sneaking into their second bedroom. You finally saw several responses to your story, mostly clapping and fire reactions and messages of well-wishes and pride. There was one handle that immediately caught your attention and you couldn’t help but think you were predictable in where your eyes always go.

[22:06] wzljh__ replied to your story: i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: sorry that was dumb of me to assume

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

[22:15] wzljh__: sorry that was stupid

[22:15] wzljh__: ignore me

[22:15] wzljh__: congrats y/n

You checked the time stamps to see that the first three messages came in rapid succession. While the last three came less than ten minutes later, without the “replied to your story,” meaning he actively searched for your conversation in his DMs to send a message.

You wondered whether it was okay to respond. He initiated it, so you figured this was consensual on his end. But… would you be okay?

Lee Jihoon was the one you believed would always know how to crack the code to tear down the walls of your heart. The one for whom your heart would invite in, with offerings of warm tea and resounding laughter and requests to make himself at home in your messy, but safe, space. You were always so utterly bare in front of him that it was almost nauseating with how much trust you put into his hands.

Did he deserve that same trust after what transpired between the two of you?

Regret lives in the past. Anxiety lives in the future. But you lived in the present.

Present (tipsy) you said, “cute human messaged must respond”

You opened up the conversation. 

[23:16] You: alexa, play congratulations by day6.

[23:16] You: happy anniversary to svt!! 🥳 

[23:16] You: hope you’re having fun with the members!!

Immediately, Seen popped up on your screen.

Your breathing hitched as you saw those damned three dots. You really should ask your old Biology tutor why your chest felt as tight as it did. Or maybe Wheein would know the science as to why it felt like your brain was firing a million and one things but was also completely shut down.

[23:16] wzljh__: oh

[23:16] wzljh__: oh wow

[23:17] wzljh__: i didnt think u would know that

[23:17] wzljh__: thanks you

[23:17] wzljh__: thank uou*

[23:17] wzljh__: you* wow im genius

You giggled softly to yourself.

──────────────────

“You look like an oversized peach, but, like, not a nice one. One that fell off the kitchen counter and now has bruising forming.”

“You’re fucking rude.”

You tutted. “Jihoon, language.”

“One of these days you’re gonna drop the fuck word too.”

“Mmm. Nope.”

He grabbed at your cheek and pinched it softly. You made a dramatic display of faked annoyance. “You will. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be the first one to hear it, alright? I’m gonna hear the fuck word from the kid that everyone else is foolish enough to believe is entirely wholesome.”

“Um? But I am? So very wholesome?”

He barked out a laugh. “Sure. You got most people convinced, but I know you. You’re too fiery for your own good.”

“Oh, so you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Of course,” he replied in English, his words laced with his thick Korean accent. “I’m genius.”

You giggled before you corrected him. “‘I’m a genius.’”

He grinned. “We both can be.”

──────────────────

[23:18] You: the other caratdeul are posting it all over twitter so it’s trending, of course i would know that 😤 i’m in touch with the insiders nowadays

[23:19] wzljh__: the other caratdeul

[23:19] wzljh__: ??

You cursed silently. Did alcohol loosen your thumbs too? Is that possible? Would you remember these questions to ask Wheein later?

[23:19] You: uh, i’m also a carat? duh? have you /seen/ jeonghan-oppa’s visuals? 😍

[23:20] wzljh__: unfortunately every day

You laughed out loud at that.

You saw the three dots come. And then disappear.

You couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that hit, but you figured that he had his own celebration to do.

That is, until a video was sent from his end five minutes later.

You swore Lee Jihoon was going to be the cause of your death one of these days. 

You clicked on the video.

“Annyeong, Y/N-ah!!”

You balked at Yoon Jeonghan’s face grinning at the camera. What the frick.

“Jihoon told me that you graduated with your PhD today! Congratulations! Hanniehae!!”

Your heart burst at the sight.

God, Jeonghan was so cute. You so desperately wanted to be his friend when you first discovered SEVENTEEN, almost more jealous of Jihoon for being surrounded by twelve other fantastic human beings rather than the other way around.

[23:28] You: omg i’m gonna cry

[23:28] You: !!!! how!!!! is he!!!! so CUTE!!!!!

[23:28] You: this is the best grad gift ever

[23:29] You: my years of indentured servitude to SNU was worth it to just bear witness to that 🥰 i can die happily now; thank you yoon jeonghan for existing

[23:30] wzljh__: um excuse me who else

[23:30] You: and to lee jihoon for the provision and distribution of content: i shall remember your services

[23:30] wzljh__: i now owe ur “jeonghan-oppa” a new lego set just for that

[23:31] You: he’s cute when he goes on vlive and builds it so just think of it as an additional gift to me, ok

[23:31] wzljh__: no.

[23:31] You: 🙄 rude

[23:31] wzljh__: u owe me too now especially since u said i gave the best grad gift ever

[23:31] You: i’m!!!!!

[23:32] You: ok so technically no one else has given me a gift yet so you were just better than nothing 🤧

[23:32] wzljh__: yes thats always my goal. to be better than nothing

[23:33] You: 😂😂😂

[23:33] You: wait!!

[23:33] You: you can’t distract me!!

[23:33] You: gifts are exchanged for the sake of selflessness and glad tidings!!

[23:34] wzljh__: thats not what u said when u guilted me into buying u the cardcaptor sakura cards because u got me plushies of the straw hat crew

[23:34] You: i didn’t GET you them! i MADE them!! my craftsmanship and time are worth much more than the ccs cards!! equivalent exchange!!

[23:34] wzljh__: god u are such a weeb

[23:34] You: if you recognize my reference you’re not so innocent yourself

[23:34] wzljh__: …

[23:34] wzljh__: damn

[23:35] wzljh__: anyway u think ur craftsmanship is worth more than the $50 i dropped on those cards?

[23:35] wzljh__: u wanna tell that to chopper whose head was too big for his body and now looks as though hes in inexplicable pain??

You stared at the screen. What?

[23:35] You: ???? pics or it didn’t happen

[23:36] wzljh__: at the dorm

[23:36] You: !!!!! you still have them with you???

[23:36] wzljh__: yea? ofc lol

[23:37] wzljh__: they may be dopey but mostly dope

[23:37] You: bihhhhh

──────────────────

“Always remember this, Y/N.”

You swallowed the handful of popcorn you so elegantly stuffed in your mouth just seconds prior. “You always do this, Jihoon. You always wait until my mouth is full—”

“Good people watch anime.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay?”

“I’m serious. Don’t trust anyone who says that they don’t like anime, alright?”

“What, so, that’s a requirement for whoever I’m going to be involved with in the future?”

“Yes. How can someone be a bad person when they have Monkey D. Luffy to look up to?”

“Fair, but—”

“And if the person can commit to nearly a thousand manga chapters and over eight-hundred episodes, they can commit to you.”

For some reason, his logic overtook your own. You nodded in slow agreement. “I mean. You’re not wrong.”

“Of course not.”

“So, you’re saying I’d have to find my Luffy?”

He eyed you. “I think you’re more of a Nico Robin than a Nami, honestly.”

Your stomach flipped but you brushed aside the implications of his words.

And even years later, your first-date questions always included, ‘If you were a Straw Hat member, who do you think you would be?’

You had yet to find another Zoro.

──────────────────

[23:38] wzljh__: anyway u still owe me

[23:38] You: BIHHHHHHH

[23:39] wzljh__: ill let u know by the end of the week

[23:39] You: 🥺 do i not get a choice

[23:41] wzljh__: u always have a choice 

[23:42] You: hrmmmmmm then… i shall hear you out… maybe… perhaps… mayhaps

[23:42] wzljh__: always been a poet, since that second grade writing contest, havent u

[23:43] You: me? a poet? how about i quote one of the greatest poets of our generation

[23:43] You: ‘let’s have fun’

[23:43] wzljh__: …?

[23:44] You: ‘everyone stand up and clap’

[23:44] wzljh__: ok

[23:44] You: 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[23:45] You: wait

[23:45] You: that’s one too many

[23:45] wzljh__: fake fan

[23:46] You: 😢 i come here and get bullied by a member of my favorite k-pop group

[23:46] wzljh__: favorite

[23:46] wzljh__: ?*

[23:46] You: asjdkksncsls yoinks

[23:47] You: i wish i could unsend messages

[23:47] You: or go back 3 seconds in time

[23:48] You: but what if i jump forward 10 seconds..

[23:49] wzljh__: HA

[23:49] wzljh__: alright u are at least a cubic if u watch gose

[23:50] You: 💖💙 it’s what pulled me thru my thesis

[23:50] wzljh__: lololol

[23:50] wzljh__: alright alright

[23:50] wzljh__: i gotta go soon

[23:50] wzljh__: but

[23:51] wzljh__: congratulations y/n

[23:51] wzljh__: seriously

[23:51] wzljh__: u do some amazing things

[23:52] You: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[23:52] You: thanks jihoon so do u

[23:52] You: oh wait i just remembered

[23:55] wzljh__: ?

[23:56] You: an amazing thing u did

[23:56] You: thanks for sharing the info abt the group home project!!

[23:58] You: i don’t think i can ever explain how grateful i am!! it went so smoothly because of the response from the surrounding communities

[00:00] You: and you didn’t need to share the information

[00:00] You: but you did

[00:00] You: and i just

[00:00] You: idk i’m really grateful

[00:02] You: anyway!!

[00:02] You: sorry

[00:03] You: oh wait i’m supposed to say thank you

[00:03] You: thank you thank you thank you

[00:03] You: thank you lee jihoon

[00:05] wzljh__: is it bad if i just send a 👍🏼

[00:05] You: you’re gonna ok, boomer me? and my authentic and genuine heartfelt words??

[00:06] wzljh__: 👍🏼

[00:07] You: ...i’m unsubscribing

[00:07] wzljh__: lolool

[00:07] You: 😭😭😭

[00:08] wzljh__: still a crybaby

[00:08] You: more like crylady

[00:09] wzljh__: i suggest u never say that ever again

[00:10] You: yep noted i regretted it as soon as i hit send

[00:10] wzljh__: looooollll

[00:11] wzljh__: ill let u know what i expect for my equivalent exchange

[00:12] wzljh__: i need to consult with my lawyers on what exactly i can get away with

[00:12] You: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[00:12] wzljh__: i can hear that message and i dont get how

[00:13] You: i’m gonna d word 😭

[00:13] wzljh__: not until i get my gift lol anyway ill message u by the end of the week

[00:14] You: ok 😞 fine

[00:14] You: you’ll message me?

[00:14] You: 🤙🏼?

[00:15] wzljh__: lolollllllll thats not a pinky promise emoji

[00:16] You: don’t care!!!

[00:16] wzljh__: lollll still so stubborn

[00:16] wzljh__: okay fine

[00:17] wzljh__: 🤙🏼

[00:18] wzljh__: goodnight y/n sleep well

And so you did.

You dreamt of crescent moons, steady heartbeats, gentle melodies, and open arms.

And falling, falling, falling.

──────────────────

Five weeks.

Four interviews.

Three community project ideas.

Two job offers.

One major minor meltdown.

Zero Instagram messages.

Not that it particularly mattered when your entire future was splayed out right in front of you.

“So… you either stay in Seoul…” Hyejin began.

“...or I move to New York,” you finished for her.

“...okay, but like, what is even over there?”

“Unnie.”

“I know it’s your favorite city in the world—”

“Strongly so.”

“And they have Broadway—”

“An absolute treat.”

“And you’d be lecturing at Columbia—”

“The first Social Work university in America and most prestigious school in said field.”

“But I’m not there!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Hyejin’s pout. “Unnie, you and Wheein were already talking about living together next year because you’re both heading over to Jeju!”

“Which is the same time zone as Seoul! AKA, I can call you at any point I want—”

“We both know that’s not true even if we were in the same time zone.”

“...okay, touché. But! Are you really going to move halfway across the world? Again?”

“I enjoyed my time at Yale!”

“Bumblebee, you left Korea because you were running away from something. Someone. Are you sure you’re not leaving Korea for the same reason?”

“...Unnie, I love New York.”

──────────────────

“Doesn’t this city just reek of anxiety?”

You ignored her and instead took in the hustle and bustle of the streets around you. The neon signs of overpriced bags just begging to be haggled, the misogynistic advertisements of computer-generated women overhead, unassuming hot dog stands and bodegas whose businesses depended entirely on locals, live music found on nearly every street corner, committed to entertain in order to survive.

This city was the physical manifestation of everything right and wrong with humanity.

Bodies close. Minds worlds away.

The perfect place for someone like you.

“So full of life.”

Hyejin looked at you. Her face softened once she caught a glimpse of the glimmer of light she always saw in passing.

She hoped it would return for the long-term.

“Yeah, bumblebee. Full of life.”

She promised herself that she would take you every year from then on.

Your first trip was during the nipping frost of winter, filled with artificial twinkling and overconsumption of goods; the holiday cheer dampened by the cold reality that heartbreak and loneliness were inevitable byproducts of the season.

Your second trip was in the welcoming arms of autumn, decidedly going upstate for one day; the leaves faded into reds and golds, apples ready to be picked to be baked into a sweet pie, accompanied by the warmth of spiced cider and slow healing found in vulnerability wrapped in double crochet blankets and friendship.

Your third trip was during the sweltering heat of the summer, bad decisions and dangerous impulsivity. Late night drives of yells and whoops echoed into the Lincoln Tunnel with the wind rushing through your hair. The invincibility of youth and rekindling of the burning fire you thought was long gone.

Your fourth trip was in the blossoming of springtime, maturation of seeds sown and bountiful harvests. Gentle breezes and flowy dresses. Picnic baskets and overpriced coffees. The unspoken connection of humans collectively sitting in Central Park enjoying the gift of now, thankful to be alive.

As the seasons changed, so did you.

──────────────────

“But,” Hyejin started, exasperation already apparent in her tone. “Come on, bumblebee.”

Annoyance flared up. “What?”

“You’re thinking about running away again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes at you and you could feel the simmering anger building in the pit of your stomach. You tried to quell it down with breathing, but you still felt the flames lick at your insides. “Jihoon just started messaging you again and you’re off here just thinking about fleeing the country. Again.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“I think it has everything to do with him.”

“I’m not some lovesick puppy who can’t make her own decisions, unnie. I applied to Columbia because I thought that it would be an amazing opportunity to be an assistant professor. Do you know how many PhD grads get to score a job like that right out of graduation?”

“Oh, yes, we get it, Y/N. You’re always cream of the crop. Top of your class. Always pursuing something bigger and better than what we mere humans can provide.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“You were offered a full-ride to NYU for your PhD, but you declined it because you didn’t want to, and I’m quoting you here, ‘dirty your healing place.’”

“Things change, unnie.”

“No, you’re just fucking scared.”

Rage filled you. “You don’t know me. You think you have me all figured out, but you’re just projecting onto me because you, for one, are constantly running away from your own feelings for Wheein! You wanna know who’s scared? It’s not me. Because I make my choices and I don’t regret them. Can’t say the same for yourself, huh?”

You grabbed your belongings and stomped out of your shared living space, slamming the door behind you, the beating in your chest ringing in your ears with a resounding thump, thump, thump.

Part of you wondered if the reason you snapped was because she was right.

Maybe partially.

But you also knew that you hated being carved and molded into what people perceived you as.

And she perceived you as something you were not.

Your happiness wasn’t reliant on him. You were a wholly and complete person without him. You knew that. You found that Truth long ago. You proved that through the years of work you put in; years that Hyejin witnessed herself.

So, it felt like a backhanded slap when it felt like she saw the girl you were when she first met you. As though you didn’t put in the effort to take the course of your life into your hands and crafted it to be the way that it is now.

You were a whole person.

She never said you weren’t.

You tried to pull out your car keys from your bag but struggled to find them in the midst of your frustration. You growled before giving up, stomping your way down the now dimly lit streets, the sky never quite achieving a pitch black, with the light pollution of the city. Stars were nowhere in sight, but the moon hung low near the horizon.

You found yourself walking (nearly stomping) for almost an hour as different voices argued in your mind. You were several blocks away from your home now.

She overreacted.

She’s just worried about you.

She didn’t have to be.

She probably doesn’t want you to experience the heartache that she’s seen you go through.

She was treating you like a child.

Because she loves you. And love makes you do crazy things sometimes. Like yelling at your best friend. Or flying halfway across the world.

You groaned inwardly.

God! Why did you have to have a conscience?

You said some pretty shitty things to someone who may have not portrayed her care in the best way, but tried to anyway. She gathered the courage to try and challenge you and you blew her off by rubbing salt into her own wound.

She wasn’t right.

But neither were you.

You felt the wash of shame come over you as you twiddled with your bag’s strap, trying to muster up the determination you needed to trudge back down and apologize.

“Oh, thank God, bumblebee.”

You pivoted your entire body at your unnie’s voice, wanting to shrink back at noticing the redness in her skin and puffiness under her eyes, even in the faint light of the street lamps. She looked so frazzled, her flip-flops nearly hanging off her feet from what looked like running around trying to find you. “Unnie, I—”

“I know you said you don’t like apologies, so I’ll say thank you instead. Thank you for your honesty, even if it was really mean. Thank you for listening to me, at least the beginning. Thank you for getting angry because I know that’s really fucking hard for you to do so and I feel weirdly honored but also still spooked by it. Thank you for not driving, especially this late and on a weekend when you’re upset—”

Your heart sank at the memory of Hyejin recounting her story of losing her friend to a drunk driver, something Hyejin felt immensely (and irrationally) responsible for, having been the person to last send her off.

You had forgotten about that.

Here you were, trying to figure out how you were going to apologize, and here she was, worrying about whether you were going to come back to her at all. You bit your lip before you piped up, “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Yeah, well, I was right. I learned that I never want to be caught in the crossfire. Your anger is terrifying. You’re not a bumblebee; you’re more like an agitated hornet. With a gun.”

“Unnie—”

“I’m not done. I don’t know how to process my emotions like you do so I didn’t really think before I came running after you. I’m still hurt and mad that you said all of that shit—”

“I was wrong,” you interrupted. She went quiet at that. “I don’t know everything. I hardly know anything. But what I do know is that I was wrong. I said some things that I knew were going to hurt you because that’s what I wanted to do. I was wrong. But... so were you, unnie.”

She remained silent, so you continued.

“I’m not that same, young, dumb teen that you met at Yale. I’m not the brat who was still trying to figure out how to be her own person without being an off-brand version of all of her friends from Busan. I’m… I’m not weak, unnie.”

“I… I never said you were.”

You wondered when you started crying. “Yeah, well. It felt like you didn’t believe in me. That you didn’t trust me. You are the only person in my life who saw all of the changes I went through and you still said I was running away. So, it just made me think that all of my growth was… I don’t know. Fake.”

“What? No. Oh, bumblebee. Never.”

“I’m… I’m my own person. Who can make her own decisions. I don’t need anyone else to complete me. So, there’s no one and nothing that I’m trying to run away from. I’m just trying to figure out where I want to go. Is that so bad?”

“...No. Not at all,” Hyejin answered softly. She slowly stepped towards you and tentatively wrapped her arms around your torso. You leaned in and breathed in her scent, muffling your sniffling against her shoulder. “You were right that I confused the woman you are now with the girl you were then. But I’ve never ever seen you as weak. Or incomplete. Not then, not now.”

“Then why?” You sobbed. “Why do you think my life revolves around him? Anyone else can think I’m some love-struck dumbass, but why you?”

“Oh, bumblebee, I fucked up when I said I thought it had everything to do with him. I definitely… projected. Like you said. As much as I hate to admit it. But... I also want you to know that I don’t see you as some sad girl who’s been pining after some crusty dude. I see a woman who has gone around the world, fallen in love with it and its people, and still knows exactly with whom she feels safest. And I don’t want you to deny yourself of that.”

“I’m not denying myself anything. He doesn’t love me, unnie. So, I have to be the one to do it. Because he won’t. And that’s okay. I’ve learned to love myself and isn’t that good enough?”

Hyejin squeezed you tighter in her embrace. “Call me crazy, but… I think there’s something there. Call it a spark. Call it a string of fate. Call it a grown love. But… ah. I’m not good with words like you, bumblebee. You are good enough. Just as you are. Wonderful, even. I… I’m not saying he’s a missing piece of you or anything like that. But. Agh. Like. He is bread. And you are butter. You’re both complete by nature and can exist without each other, but you’re just… better together,” she tried to hold her tongue, but you knew her resolve was weak, so you braced yourself. “Butter together.”

“...unnie, you really are bad with words.”

You yelped when she grabbed at you to pinch your thigh.

She promptly turned the two of you around back to your apartment, her arm looped around yours. You easily walked past your building, though, caught up in smoothing out the harsh lines said during your earlier conversation. She admitted her fears regarding pursuing her own unrequited love and you confessed you often chased things that were of grandeur rather than that of simplicity. And you both touched on exactly the roots of your insecurities: hers in her fear of being unwanted and yours in the idea that you were incomplete without him.

The two of you found yourselves swinging at a neighborhood park that probably closed several hours ago, but it was a safe space for the two of you, to air out the tension, to have the beginnings of healing and mending, although most of it being left to time and future efforts of rebuilding trust.

Together.

──────────────────

[19:21] wzljh__: this might be a dumb question but did ur kkt account change

[19:21] wzljh__: i tried messaging u and it said delivered but

[19:21] wzljh__: nvm u dont have to reply sorry

[19:42] You: omg

[19:42] You: jihoon i made a new account bc my username was @narutofanfreak123 and i couldn’t bear to tell people that was my username but i didn’t know how to change it LOLLL

[19:43] You: so i made a new account once i came back to korea!!

[20:01] wzljh__: i

[20:01] wzljh__: i shouldve asked

[20:02] wzljh__: i thought u werent replying because u were busy with job searching since u were posting about it on ur story

[20:02] wzljh__: or maybe u didnt want to talk to me 😣

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief.

Jihoon used an emoji?

[20:05] You: oh no lol i already got offers

[20:05] You: still deciding between two of them

[20:17] wzljh__: before u tell me whats ur username on kkt?

[20:18] You: oh yeah!

[20:18] You: oh

[20:18] You: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[20:18] wzljh__: ???

[20:19] You: haha

[20:19] You: ok so

[20:19] You: uh

[20:19] wzljh__: are u ok???

[20:20] You: yeah! haha

[20:20] You: welp

[20:20] You: it’s @madamefirefly

[20:20] You: heh

Lee Jihoon (@wzljh__) added you on KakaoTalk! You accepted Lee Jihoon’s request!

[20:23] Lee Jihoon: nice username

[20:23] You: thanks it was inspired by someone who used to bully me as their pastime

[20:25] Lee Jihoon: sounds like u were a masochist

[20:25] You: 🙄🙄🙄

[20:25] You: nice username

[20:25] You: sounds like it was randomly generated off of a sketchy site on naver that just so happened to have your initials

[20:26] Lee Jihoon: that ‘sketchy site’ somehow managed to predict the initials of my english stage name

[20:27] You: that was easily!!!! within your control to manipulate, woozi-ssi!! it should technically be uji!!

[20:27] Lee Jihoon: no that site knew my future and spoke to me

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: speaking of futures

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: whats coming up on the y/n agenda

[20:29] You: oop sorry hyejin-unnie is back home and i promised we would get dinner together so i might not respond until later

[20:30] You: but i’m deciding between staying here in seoul to continue the work i’ve been doing and being an assistant professor at columbia university in new york city!!

[20:30] You: although i’m def leaning more towards one than the other

[20:30] You: ack she’s yelling at me to hurry sorry i’ll ttyl!!

[Read at 20:30]

──────────────────

 Your phone rang.

You saw the FaceTime ID and never slid the bar faster than you did in that moment.

“Unnie! I—oh God, is that a wedding dress—oh my, oh no, the tears—”

One of the most beautiful laughters of your childhood rang out as she flipped the camera back to her face, stained from salty tears already passed. “Oh, lovebug—” Your lips split into a wide grin at the childhood nickname. “I think this is the one. I needed to show you. What do you think?”

“Hold on, I’m crying so hard that I can’t see—”

337.1km away, your future family member (although, one could argue she always had been) burst into a renewal of joyful tears, so exuberantly over-the-moon to share this moment with you, and you sharing the same exact sentiment to be able to bask in the joy of a promised love.

“Unnie,” you said emphatically. “You are… so beautiful. So stunning. So radiant. So dazzling. My goodness me. You are… just so splendent.”

She hiccuped. “Lovebug, no one uses that word anymore.”

“I had to go back to words of old to explain myself because language oft fails me when I see you.”

“Stop. God, you and Jihoon both with your ability to speak. How do words even come out of you two like that?”

You made a noise.

You don’t think she caught it.

“Y/N, you are sunshine personified, so to hear you say that makes me feel like I’m being blessed by Amaterasu herself.”

“I wouldn’t want to go lock myself in a cave.”

“Then don’t, lovebug,” she said dismissively. “Plus, you can’t. The bachelor and bachelorette party is gonna be in Seoul and you promised you would be there.”

“Yes, yes. To help me get blackmail on everyone else in case they try to turn on you later. You’re using me, you know?”

“You’re a useful person.”

You clicked your tongue. “So I’ve been told.”

A comfortable silence passed between the two of you before she broke it, a slight hesitation in her tone.

“So… turns out that Jihoon’s gonna be at oppa’s bachelor party. Oppa asked him to perform and he said no because of his schedule, but he said he would be at the wedding. And the bachelor party.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. He was willingly going to the party and the wedding of the man who stole the love of his life away from him? “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Huh. Weird.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s coming to the wedding. I know you don’t want to see him, but—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you literally went across the world to avoid him—”

“Why does everyone think that? No, don’t worry about me, unnie. It’s fine.”

You didn’t look directly at the screen but you could feel her stare boring into the side of your face through it. She thought you were lying. But you weren’t. It wasn’t about you.

“Lovebug—”

“He texted me.”

Your words stunned her into silence.

That is, until she went rapid-fire.

“Oh my God. What? How? When? Did you reply? Was it an emergency? Did you have a conversation? Was it a casual conversation? How long? Oh, thank goodness—”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, unnie. Wait. Why do you look happier now than you did when you were showing me your wedding dress? Wait. Aren’t you at a boutique right now? Don’t you have your mom waiting or something—?”

“Shush, I’m asking the questions around here.”

And so, you answer them. You told your future family, your confidant, your safe space. You told her of the accidental like, the off-chance comment, the purposeful messages, and everything caught in between.

337.1km away and you felt right at home.

──────────────────

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice anywhere.

Of course she was here, of course she was. This was one of your collective dreams, two girls fantasizing about inebriated situations and uninhibited fun by means of burning liquids in a local Busan bar. A dream of spending a night here, sharing a story for every shot.

You learned a year prior that you would really only be able to tell two stories before wanting to quit.

“Oh… hey, unnie.”

“You’re… you’re back.”

You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh. Graduated.”

“From Yale.”

“Uh… yeah. From Yale.”

“Can… I sit here?”

You glanced up at her before gesturing to the seat in front of you, the corner booth really far too large for your person. You could almost see the thoughts that raced in her mind before she gave a small nod and sunk down into the cushion.

“So, how have you—”

“I heard you—”

“Oh, no, you go—”

“Oh, sorry, I just—”

You both locked eyes.

And promptly burst into a fit of laughter.

“God, what is this?” You managed to get out, holding your stomach.

She was no better, in her signature hiccuping stage. “I just—!”

“We have the communication skills of five-year-olds.”

She wiped away a stray tear. “We’ve become a drama.”

“I call being the second-male lead.”

“Wait, that’s not fair. We all know that the second-male lead is objectively better.”

“That’s exactly why, unnie,” you winked.

She scoffed. “Alright, I’ll give it to you this time, lovebug.”

You saw her freeze, as if she didn’t expect herself to call you by that nickname. She looked like a deer caught in headlights and you quickly gave her a wave of your hand. “You spent more years calling me that than you did my actual name. Let’s not break the trend now, yeah?”

She visibly relaxed and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

A lull passed over you, but you felt much more comfortable with this silence than the strained one prior. You closed your eyes and simply took in the moment, gratitude filling your lungs.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry that you had to leave because of me—”

Oh.

That was heart wrenching to hear.

The apology signified a wound, an old one.

A self-inflicted one.

Oh no.

“Unnie,” you began slowly, reaching for her hands. You could see the tears brimming. “Do you… do you blame yourself for my decision? Has guilt been eating at you all of these years?”

“I just… you left. Jihoon left. If I had just said something, then—”

“Unnie.”

She bit her lip at your definitive tone.

“Nothing, nothing, about this was your fault.  Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t mine and it wasn’t his either. We all struggled to ‘just say something’. Unnie, we were young and dumb. We still are young and dumb,” you squeezed her hands for emphasis. “If you say you’re sorry, then okay. I forgive you. But I just want you to know that past me never blamed you. Never.”

She let out a choked sob and you found yourself crossing to the other side of the table, enveloping her in your arms, tucking her head under your chin. She buried her face into your chest and you just rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for never reaching out. I’m sorry I never cleared the air. I’m sorry I was so scared.”

“We needed time and space apart, unnie. To figure ourselves out. And I did. I really did. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I kept tying my self-worth into Korea, into Busan, into you, into him. But that doesn’t mean I cut you off in order to do it. I don’t think I ever could,” you squeezed tighter. “Thank you for saying that you’re sorry, but there really is no need, not to me.”

And so she cried into your arms, emptying herself of tears. Later, you filled that space with your stories of adventure, your kind words, and your love. And she did the same for you.

In that moment, Busan never seemed so much more like home.

──────────────────

“So, New York, huh?”

You glanced up at your boss, the social worker in charge of running the different programs tied to the university, the same one who got you involved with the group home, the same one who offered you a full-time position after graduation in training new recruits, specializing in the Child and Family division, but also providing self-care guidance to the rest of the staff since your specialty in school was around Behavioral and Mental Health.

The pay was good, seeing as it was run by professionals partnered with SKY: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University. What most Koreans would consider to be the ‘Ivy League’ of South Korea. Although, being a community leader was definitely a far-cry from a prestigious position as an assistant professor.

“Ah. Yeah, New York.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s… yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is the air better there than here?”

“No fine dust, but there’s a lot of smog.”

She pulled a displeased face. “Is that better?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. You wanted to reduce into a puddle and slip through the vents, dreading this conversation.

“You should go.”

Uh. What?

You parroted those exact words out loud.

“I may have lost some of my mind’s sharpness to age and time, but if I remember correctly, New York City is one of the most popular places in the world. And I hear that it would be a good place for a young, spry lady like you to get your bright mind out there. The world needs a little more of you and if New York City is the best way to do it, so be it.”

“I’m… I’m…”

“A wonderful human being who will make the most of the hand that she’s dealt. I’ve seen you make castles out of cardboard.”

“You… you want me to go to New York?”

“Oh, Heavens no. Not at all. I would love to just keep you here forever,” she sighed, going so far as to lean back in her desk chair. You resisted the urge to laugh at her theatrics. “But you’re not a princess locked up in a tower. You have the power to make your own choice, and I know that whichever path you go down, it will be a flowery one. You’ll make it one. Because that’s just what you do, Y/N.”

“What if… What if I’m not sure?”

She tilted her head back down to meet your eyes and gave you a smile that was slightly off-putting, as though you had fallen into a trap she carefully laid out. “Then, what can I do to convince you to stay here?”

“I think a part of me thinks I’m wanting to stay here because I’ve found my home here. I think I’ve become incredibly comfortable here. In Korea.”

She blinks at you. “Is… that a bad thing?”

“I think... I think that I’m wanting to stay here because I love it here and the work I do and the people I’ve met, but I think I’m wanting to leave because I’m trying to prove that I’m not tied down to a particular person. Because I feel like everyone thinks that I can’t live my life without them, so I want to prove that I can do it. That I will.”

“So… you’re trying to prove that you’re not influenced by said person, by, uh, being influenced by said person?”

“Uh.”

“‘Uh,’ indeed.”

“What if… I’m staying here because I subconsciously think that everyone is right? That I actually can’t live without them? Not actually?”

“Is that person me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m a little hurt you answered that so quickly, but. To prove my point. You are here, in my office, yes?”

“Yes…?”

“Are they?”

“No…?”

“Then. You’re living without them, aren’t you? Right here. In front of me. Heart pumping out blood through your veins and your brain shooting off neurons. You’re alive. Without them.”

“It’s… it’s a little different, Doctor, I—”

“Y/N. You’re dazzling. Almost overwhelmingly so. There is no one. No one who can overshadow you in the way you think they can. No matter what underlying influences, no matter what puppetry you may think is going on, you call the shots. You get to decide what to include in your life moving forward. If this person has as much power as you think they do over you, I’d like to meet them. Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You bit your lip. “Is… Is it okay to be so selfish?”

“You said so yourself, Y/N. You found a home here. Or more like, knowing you, you built a home here. Korea will forever be marked by you. Seoul. Busan. Everywhere you’ve gone. That’s something that the majority of the world cannot say, because everyone feels a little lost, a little out of place. But you? No. You have a place. Right here. And, I mean, even at the end of the day, if you go off somewhere else, you’ll always have a place to return to that will welcome you with open arms.”

“Doctor, I…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...I think I wanna stay.”

“Perfect. I’ll have them write up your contract.”

──────────────────

[04:12] Lee Jihoon: i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

[4:12] You: i still have the sleep schedule of a doctoral student, you know

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: oho i see

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: and u still owe me a gift, doctor

[4:12] You: 🥴🥴🥴 i thought you forgot

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: never

[4:13] You: ok lee jihoon, what do you want?

[4:13] Lee Jihoon: can i call u

[4:13] You: ? sure?

Before you could even type, ‘is something wrong?’, his name and profile picture (which wasn’t even of him, it was that dumb photo of Hansol) flooded your screen. Your finger slid across before you could even give a second thought.

“Um. Hello?” Silence met your ears. You wondered whether the call actually went through. You pulled the phone away from your cheek and pressed ‘speaker’. “Jihoon…?”

“Ah, sorry. Yes. Wow. Hi.”

You knew speaker was the better option. Hearing his voice that close to your ear would have given you heart palpitations, or at least, worse than what was already happening. “Yes, hello yourself. Did you need something?”

“Huh?”

“You called?”

“Oh. Yeah. No. I just. Wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I think staring at a screen would’ve made me fall asleep faster, but I wanted to talk. To you. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay.”

You heard him release a sigh of relief (?). “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

You hummed, realizing there was a chance he didn’t exactly prepare conversation topics. “I decided to stay in Seoul.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My boss here convinced me.”

“Tell them thank you.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t hard to.”

“Columbia is a pretty prestigious place, though.”

“Huh. How’d you know that?”

“Might’ve asked Hansol and Jisoo-hyung.”

You clicked your tongue. “Jihoon, just because they’re American doesn’t mean—”

“Nope. That’s exactly what it means.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea. You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even bigger school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So. I’m proud of you.”

Your throat felt tight. “It’s not that big of a deal—”

“But it is, firefly.”

Oh, that nickname. “I mean, I just—”

“You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

“I’ve missed you.”

Before you could even make a noise (not that you could), he continued.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls. And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle go down. That kind of stupid.”

You couldn’t form words.

But you tried.

“I… I missed you too.”

You could’ve sworn you heard utter satisfaction in his voice. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

His laughter rang throughout your empty room and your chest tightened.

“Alright, we’ll go with just firefly then.”

Tears formed in your eyes at the ‘we’. You felt like you were fifteen and back in your childhood bedroom, after a long, long hours, ending your night by telling him about your day. The words you denied yourself for years tumbled out of your mouth, “Night, night, Jihoonie.”

A low chuckle met your ears.

“Sleep well, firefly.”

──────────────────

“He fucking booty called you?”

“Unnie, that’s not—”

“Nuh-uh, bumblebee. Any call past 3am is a fucking booty call.”

“So, when you called me past 3am, it was a booty call? I feel violated.”

“Time zones, Wheein. Doesn’t count,” Hyejin said dismissively.

Wheein puffed out her cheeks and stabbed the salad in front of her, piercing a lettuce leaf. You wanted to laugh at her infantile display, but you knew that would only result in her turning against you. And Hyejin was already a formidable opponent.

“He’s an idol,” you repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. “His rehearsal didn’t end until 3am.”

“He didn’t even tell you what he wanted for a gift,” Wheein interrupted.

“Yeah, what the hell is that about?” You muttered, turning back to your own plate of fries. You chewed on one thoughtfully as you made eye contact with Hyejin who gave you a deadpanned look. “What?”

“God, you two are dense, aren’t you?”

“Um, rude?”

“The phone call was the gift,” Hyejin explained.

“What a shitty gift.”

“Yeah, what? I would’ve asked for, like, Y/N’s homemade japchae.”

“Or my kimchi jjigae.”

“Or her dwaejigogi-bokkeum—wait. Stop distracting me,” Hyejin shook her head. “Regardless, bumblebee. He called you and that was his gift.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous notion. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t make Brady Bunch references at me. We’re not American.”

“No, but we do use the internet,” you reminded her. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like the fact that my cousin and his fiancée are coming in about a week and they want to get dinner together before they get shit-faced over the weekend. My only task is to gather blackmail material whenever the bachelorette happens with her friends.”

“Sounds like my kind of job.”

“Yes, Wheein-unnie, it really does.”

“Aren’t you gonna see him then?”

“Who? Jihoon?”

“Yeah, like. Aren’t you gonna see him next week? Isn’t he in your cousin’s bachelor party troupe or whatever the hell it’s called?”

You cocked your head to the side. “I don’t think I’ll see him? I shouldn’t see him. I think they’re gonna be in a different part of Seoul.”

“Huh. That would’ve been cool, though.”

“What?”

“You know that scene in dramas, where the main characters meet each other again for the first time in a long time and it’s all fuzzy and slow motion and there’s music playing in the background?”

“That’s—what? No. That doesn’t actually happen in real life, unnie.”

Hyejin pursed her lips. “Sure, Jan.”

──────────────────

“Ladybug!”

“Move aside, second-rate, that’s my lovebug.”

Your unnie ran into your open arms after she shoved her fiancé aside. You laughed at his crestfallen face but squeezed your future family as tight as you could. She squealed at your strength but nuzzled her face into your neck anyway.

“She’s… she’s my cousin, you know.”

“Yeah, but she chose me, which means that she likes me more. Chosen family is always better.”

“What? No—”

“She’s right, oppa,” you quipped. “Chosen family is always better. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing?”

“I—you two always do this. You two always gang up on me and Jihoon, and—”

“Our table is ready, oppa. Let’s go take a seat.”

“For once, can you two listen to me, please?”

“He’s asked that before, unnie.”

“And we abided at that one time, right, lovebug?”

“Yes. He said to listen for once and we did.”

“Once only means one time, am I wrong?”

“No, unnie, you’re not.”

“God, forget it. Where’s the damn table? I need a drink.”

The two of you laughed at your cousin’s outburst and retreating figure as you both linked arms to follow after.

──────────────────

One appetizer in, you swirled the lemonade in your hands, appreciating the visible pulp as an indicator of its freshness. Your cousin, on the other hand, was several beers in, face slightly flushed, a permanent lazy grin plastered on his face.

“Wow, I’m surrounded by my two favorite girls—”

“What about your mom?”

“Or your dog?”

“Or Jennie from Blackpink?

“Or Zero Two from Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Oh God. He watched Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Ugh, yes, lovebug, let me tell you—”

“ANYWAY. YEAH. MY TWO FAVORITE GIRLS.”

The two of you snickered at his outburst. Your cousin’s phone pinged and he shielded it from you, squinting like an old man, staring at the screen with a tilted head. “Oh, hey, he’s five minutes away.”

You made an inquisitive sound. “Who?”

The two of them exchanged nervous glances, your cousin visibly swallowing.

Your unnie was the one who decided to speak up.

Because they knew you wouldn’t ever get mad at her.

Oh no.

“I know we didn’t give you the time to prepare, but we thought that you would’ve run away if we told you earlier, but Jihoon is coming here and—”

You could see her mouth move but you only heard a dull ringing.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Wait.

Could you even speak? Where was your mouth again? Did it even move? What was happening? Where were you? Who were you?

“Y/N.”

You thought you felt a hand place itself on your shoulder. You turned to the sound source. “Yes?”

“Are you breathing?” “I think so.”

Your vision focused enough to recognize the looks of concern from the two seated at the booth.

Your heart sank. Oh no. Oh no.

Jihoon was going to see the two of them together, engaged.

He was going to be completely shattered.

“Lovebug, are you crying?”

“I—”

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin’s voice went up several octaves from its regular position. You froze and cast your eyes downward, shrinking back as far into the seat as you could.

“Hey, hyung.”

Even the highest quality of speakers could not do this man’s voice justice, you realized.

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

You prepared yourself to hear the strain in his voice that you knew would tear you up inside.

“Hi, noona.”

Wait. What?

He spoke with such nonchalance, your head shot up in surprise.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Was your vision still fuzzy from earlier?

Did someone turn the playback speed to 0.5x?

Was that music playing?

(Shit. Hyejin was right.)

Your tongue mindlessly ran across your lips.

Oh wow.

He was really built like that, huh? His fair skin was so clear, you could have sworn there was a halo of light emitting from him. Cleanly done undercut, his ebony bangs fell messily just above his eyes, oh God, those crescent eyes, those bright, bright, bright—

Has he always looked at you like that?

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

The older two gawked for a moment before your cousin began to berate you, going so far as to threaten to wash your mouth out with soap, while your unnie had her jaw dropped in horror. But you couldn’t look away from Jihoon. Surprise flitted across his face, but only for a moment. It settled into an uptilted corner of his lip and amusement dancing in his irises.

The woman before him, he only ever caught fleeting moments of. From social media posts by old friends to grainy photos from news outlets regarding your doctoral work. You were always so hard to pin down, like trying to catch a sunbeam in his hands.

You changed. So much.

You grew more into yourself, a woman you crafted with your own hands. There was a quiet confidence woven into you, so blatantly obvious, even though your current posture would convince everyone else otherwise. But he wasn’t everyone else. He could see the burning flame you’ve had since you were children, but it was more refined, more honed in, more in your control.

That made you more dangerous.

But that flustered look on your face.

Maybe you hadn’t changed too much.

And that gave him hope.

──────────────────

[끝.]

[side B: him.]

[renaiswriting]

Baci di Luna (part 5)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary:

Saying I love you was never easy.

Having to say it in a language that wasn't yours was not easy either.

Imagine the struggle of that, and now add it to loving someone whose family thinks you're a monster.

It can't be easy at all.

Word count: +4.1k

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of burning. (I think that's all.)

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•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Noah, stop it already!"

 

Noah had been banging on the bathroom door for several minutes already, hurrying you to let him into the bathroom so he could take a bath, but you knew that more out of haste to perform some personal hygiene (because Noah had never been much of a baths' lover, no matter how short they were), he was looking for excuses to distract you from meeting Seungcheol.

 

Your younger brother was jealous, and although you would have usually found him adorable, he was starting to wear on your patience a bit.

 

"If you keep banging the door, I'll tell mom." You warned him. And this seemed to be somehow effective, because the banging on the door stopped for some time.

 

You tried your best to dry your hair with your towel, but it was still kind of wet.

 

You had put it on a high ponytail and your favorite pink lipstick.

 

"All yours." You told Noah once you stepped out of the bathroom, giving him a questionable look when you found him lying down on the floor.

Your mom was on the couch, knitting a new scarf for Arianna since she had lost hers in the move and had already made the whole house crazy by constantly wearing her scarves.

Your mom looked at you twice, the first had been a distracted glance while the second scanned you up and down, her brow furrowed.

"Dove vai vestito così?"

Until those moments you had avoided mentioning to him the plan to go out with Seungcheol because of this very questioning.

Your father, who had been more focused on taking inventory of the raw materials to make the various delicacies sold at the bakery, also looked up, one of his eyebrows raised. "Yeah, where are you supposed to go all dolled up like that? You're not supposed to work at the bakery today."

"I'm going to meet Seungcheol." You explained, trying to avoid sounding nervous, you didn't want them to suspect you liked the poor boy or anything, it would be all very awkward if Seungcheol came back to the bakery after that. Your father had always been known in the family for making jokes and hinting at the boyfriends and girlfriends his sons had had so far. He shrugged it off with a shrug of his shoulders. There was nothing to hide. You were going to get together with a friend. "You've already met him."

"Chi è Seungcheol? Non lo ricordo." Your mother asked , and you couldn't believe how she didn't remember Seungcheol considering how many times he had been to the bakery.

"Yes, I don't remember any Seungcheol either." Your father nodded his head, agreeing with his wife.

"He's tall, dark hair, big round eyes..."

"Quello del cornetto? Va bene, puoi andare ma porta Arianna con te."

You guessed that by now the Cornet boy had officially acquired the nickname Seungcheol.

 

"No! I can't bring Arianna with me; he's my friend. I want to be able to talk about things with him, but Arianna will get bored. Please, Dad?"

 

Your father looked conflicted. "I don't know. What do you say?" he asked his wife directly. "(Y/n) is old enough not to need a chaperone, don't you think? Maybe we should trust her with this."

"Dove vi incontrate allora?"

 

"I don't know, we were just going to walk for a while; we didn't agree to go to a specific place."

 

"Va bene, ma torna a casa prima delle sette." Your mother agreed, her index finger pointing at you. And that was more than enough time, it was almost four and you weren't even sure you would have something to talk about for more than an hour.

And that was more than enough time; it was almost four, and you weren't even sure you would have something to talk about for more than an hour.

 

"Where are you going?" Arianna asked, entering the room where you were all wearing her pajamas, shorts, and barefoot. Her eyes looked over your figure, stopping when she realized something. "Those are my earrings! Take them off; I was planning to wear them today."

 

"Sure thing, it absolutely goes well with your outfit." You replied, rolling your eyes but taking them off anyway, giving them back to her before finding some others to use instead.

 

One of your parents must have told her what your plans were for that day because Arianna walked into your shared bedroom whining. "I wanna go too!"

 

"Well, next time, maybe. I told Seungcheol it would be just the two of us today; I really want to make new friends here."

 

"If he's going to be your friend, then he has to get used to your family." She pointed it out, throwing herself on her bed, her legs resting against the cold wall. She had started doing this after and before every meal for some reason; apparently it was good for digestion or something like that.

 

"Well, yeah, but it would be rude to just show up there if he wasn't being told in advance. Why do you suddenly want to meet with him anyway? Does my little sister have a crush that I haven't caught on to?"

 

Arianna rolled her eyes and said, "None of that. But if you're going to where we went last time, I want to go there; they gave us food. It was delicious; I still want to punch myself because we didn't bring more."

You pick up your biggest pillow and throw it at her face, taking her by surprise. "Yah! That was not nice!"

"Be grateful for what they gave us; it was a nice thing for them to do. Don't act like a brat"

Ever since that night you went to Seungcheol and his friends' house, both you and Arianna had made a silent pact to never speak about it in front of any other member of your family unless you were looking for a punishment.

"And I don't think we're going there; we're probably just going to go on a walk or something like that, and I'll come back home. Next time, we can bring Noah to the lake and invite Seungcheol if you want."

"Sure," Arianna said, "bring Seungcheol for yourself and make me babysit Noah; at least bring someone of my interest too, would you?"

You raised your right eyebrow in her direction, looking at her with an expression that said, "I caught you lying to me."

 

"Like who?" You asked her, reaching for the ring your mom had given you to protect you.

 

"I don't know; the shorter one was pretty cute." Arianna replied with a shrug. Her hand was playing with her own hair, braiding it.

 

"And probably too old for you; why don't you try looking for some guy your age in town? I'm sure the butcher's son is a nice boy, and if you go out with him, we might get a good discount on fish." You joked.

 

"But I don't like him." Arianna protested.

 

"Well, then ask mom to introduce you to some of her friends' sons; I bet she would be thrilled."

 

Arianna complained a little bit more, but you ignored it as you made your way to the door, where someone was knocking.

Seungcheol was standing in front of the door, both of his hands in his pants pockets, and his feet were moving back and forth, resting all his weight on one foot at a time.

He was biting his lower lip, and when you opened the door, he looked like he was about to fix his hair.

 

"Hello," Seungcheol sighed with a small smile. His eyes traveled to how you were dressed that day before returning to your eyes. "You look really nice today."

 

"Thanks!" You replied with a big smile, looking over your shoulder when you heard footsteps coming your way. "We should probably get going before my brother finds a way to tag along."

 

Seungcheol's eyes moved behind your figure, and you realized a little bit too late that Noah had made his way to the front door before you could fly away. "If he wants to come, he can." Seungcheol whispered to you, sending you a reassuring smile.

 

"It's okay; he can come next time."

 

Seungcheol nodded. "One of our youngest probably might enjoy his company; he would love to have someone to play with."

 

You closed the door behind you as you both started walking. The day was pretty sunny, and it was really warm.

There was a gentle breeze that was caressing your skin and moving your hair gently out of your face.

 

"Oh no, just one sibling interested in your friends is enough." You joked, and just when you thought this would be just a comment to fill the silence, it seemed to catch Seungcheol's attention.

 

"Who's attention did my friends catch?" He asked with a teasing grin.

 

"My sister's; she swears she doesn't like them like that, but I'm pretty sure she would become as silent as a mouth if she's around them again."

Seungcheol laughed loudly, shaking his head. He looked quite relaxed, and his calmness was contagious, because suddenly all the nervousness you had felt while preparing was gone.

The path began to become more familiar as Seungcheol turned near Loco Thud's butcher shop. A large green wall opened up, leaving you in awe with each step you took closer to the forest.

 

No matter how much you saw it, the forest was still so beautiful that it seemed unreal.

 

"Where are we going?" you asked curiously, pausing for a few moments to watch a butterfly fly a short distance from your face.

 

"Are you hungry? I was thinking we could have a little picnic near the lake."

 

It hadn't been until that instant that you noticed the large backpack Seungcheol was carrying on his shoulders.

 

"I'm starving." You replied happily, touching your belly in anticipation of the food. "But you should have told me in advance; I would have brought some pastries from the bakery."

 

"No, it's on me. It was my idea. I managed to make Mingyu and Joshua bake these, though. So I bet they would taste delicious—probably not as good as the pastries your family sells, but I promise these will be good. I have tried them before."

"Trust me, I'm so hungry I could eat rocks." You joked.

 

Seungcheol made you walk to the spot where you both met each other the last time. There was a nice baby blue blanket on the floor and two tiny baby yellow pillows.

 

"When did you prepare this?" You asked, and it looked really pretty with the noise of the water running right next to your spot. The blanket was soft, and the pillow felt good under you.

 

"I bring these before going to your house. I wanted to ask Jeonghan and Joshua to help me, but they were busy. I got to steal Jeonghan's blanket though, so let's try to not demage it with food." He nervously laughed.

 

"No problem." You reassured him, stretching your legs and taking a deep breath of the fresh air.

 

Seungcheol opened his backpack, taking out from inside some orange juice, two cups, and a bunch of pastries. You couldn't help yourself but take a bite of one of the big, thin chocolate cookies; they were as big as your face.

Your eyes widened in amazement as a chocolate sparkle invaded your taste buds. The dough was so sweet, you felt like you could shiver with happiness.

 

Your hand scooped out some crumbs that had landed on your chin and clothes, covering your mouth as you continued to munch on the cookie. "It's so good!"

 

Seungcheol took a cookie identical to yours, devouring it in seconds. He nodded his head in approval, copying your hand position by hiding his own mouth behind it.

 

"These are Mingyu's; I always ask him to make this for my birthday because of how tasty they are."

 

"What did you promise him in exchange for these?" You asked him, laughing, "My siblings would make me pay them or do their chores for a whole month if I asked them to bake cookies for me."

Seungcheol laughed nervously. He had no idea how to tell you that he had promised Mingyu that he would take his nightly rounds if Mingyu accepted to bake stuff for his little date with you.

 

"I said I would do his laundry for a month." He replied instead. "Joshua was nicer; he asked me to do his bed instead for a week."

 

"You're the older one, aren't you?" You asked, nodding alongside Seungcheol when he confirmed it. "That's the blessing and the curse of the oldest; we can order around the house, but once they start growing up, they stop doing what we ask for if it isn't exchanged for a favor later." You laughed.

 

"Are you much older than your siblings?" Seungcheol asked and looked genuinely interested.

"Well, I'm three years older than Arianna and seven years older than Noah."

 

"You guys have such unique names," Seungcheol complimented. "I don't think I've ever heard someone with those names in town. I like them."

 

"Wait till you hear Noah's full name." You chuckled. "He's named after my mom's dying brother; apparently he asked her to name Noah after him. He's Noah Giovanni."

 

Seungcheol lay down on the blanket, his head on top of the small pillow, while his hands were comfortably crossed on his stomach.

 

"Two names? That's not usually the norm here."

 

"It isn't here. I had multiple friends and family members that had more than one name; some even had around three  names."You told him, lying down just like he was, enjoying the way the leaves on the trees were moving with the breeze, and sometimes some sunlight would make a quick appearance here and there.

Seungcheol's eyes were already on you when you turned to the side to see him more comfortably. He sent you a small smile when you both made eye contact.

"What about you? What's your other name?" Seungcheol's arm was under his face, his elbow pointing at you. He offered some orange juice that you accepted happily, sitting for some instants to take a sip of it. Your eyes moved to the water, and you were tempted to take some rocks and throw them in the water.

 

"I don't have any; the only one that has one is my brother." You mumbled, "But my mom told me once that if she could give me a second name, it would have been Isabella."

"You don't have a middle name, do you?" You asked him after some seconds of complete silence.

"No, but why don't you give me one?" He asked, moving forward to get some pancakes that he had told you beforehand had been made by Joshua. He had brought some honey, sugar, and butter to put on it.

"Me?" You asked with a chuckle. "I'm sad to inform you that my naming skills are not that good. I called a bunny pet that we had for a little bit of jumping because it jumped around a lot, and that's on my list of top-named objects and animals."

"Good thing to know that I'm not an object, then," he laughed. "Go ahead; if it's terrible, then the name would never leave this place."

"Seungcheol Oliver." You announced it proudly. It was the name of one of your childhood plushies that you sadly lost years ago in one of your family's moves to a new house.

"Oliver?" Seungcheol chuckled, nodding his head, satisfied. "Alright, I like it."

You took a bite of one of the brownies that were carefully placed on a plate, taking another sip of the orange juice. "Today's such a beautiful day." You sighed happily, closing your eyes when some breeze touched your face, moving your hair out of your face and out of your shoulders. Thankfully, it was already dry, and some of your curls have finally started to form in your wavy hair.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." Seungcheol replied happily, and you could swear you had heard a purr coming from somewhere. "How do you say that in Italian?"

"Oggi è una bellissima giornata." You told him slowly so he could catch the pronunciation of each word. He copied the sound as closely as possible, but his tickling accent made it a little bit funny to hear. You guessed that was probably how you sounded speaking in Korean as well.

"I wish I could speak Italian as well; it sounds so beautiful." Seungcheol sighed.

"But you do speak more than one language." You encouraged him, "Don't you?"

"I understand a little bit of English because one of my brothers speaks English, and I can introduce myself in Chinese as well. I can name random objects too, like doors or water."

"Teach me how to say Hello, my name's Seungcheol. I feel bad whenever I go to your family's bakery and your mom's the one attending it because I just can't say anything to her."

"Wouldn't it be easier if I told you how to ask for what you want to buy instead? I'm pretty sure my mom will know your name by now." You told him, trying not to laugh as you remembered what had happened earlier in your house.

"One thing at a time," he told you. Instead, his eyes were looking at you with such sparkle that you felt something warm run throughout your body, making you smile without realizing it.

And so you continued the rest of the afternoon eating and talking. Seungcheol seemed to try to memorize every Italian word that came out of your mouth with great effort, and sometimes, when he thought you were distracted by throwing crumbs of homemade bread to the small fish swimming near where you were in the lake, you heard him practicing in whispers the pronunciation of those words.

 

"It's getting late," you yawned. You had no sign of trying to stand up because you really didn't want the afternoon to end.

"Do you have to go home already?" Seungcheol asked, his face not making the slightest attempt to hide the disappointment behind his face.

 

"Yes," you sighed, just as sad as Seungcheol. The afternoon had passed so quickly that you were surprised as the sun began to set to give way to night. Time seemed to have flown by in the blink of an eye, and what had left you most pleased was that you had felt so comfortable around him. "My mom will scold me if I don't come back now. This Sunday, she won't let me eat the lasagna she's been anticipating for us since last week." You smiled at him.

 

Seungcheol nodded, understanding. "I'll walk you home, then. It's getting late, and it can be quite dangerous to walk at this time alone. Come on." He was standing up, his palm facing you, as he was waiting for you to take it and stand up as well.

His skin felt a little rough to the touch; there were some calluses on it, and a cut you had just noticed was still healing. A soft layer of pinker skin covered it. It was much warmer than your icy hands, and the warmth spread through the rest of your body, especially on your rosy cheeks, as I let him hold yours firmly.

 

A hiss interrupted the moment as Seungcheol let go of your hand with a great leap backwards. The movement had been so sudden that it made you stagger, landing you on your buttocks.

 

"Cavolo!" You swallowed your cry of pain, biting your lower lip, as your hands shot up in his direction, your knees digging into Jeonghan's blanket. "Are you okay?" You asked worriedly, your voice rising a little higher than you had intended. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to touch your wound; is it bleeding? Are you in a lot of pain?"

 

You felt incredibly embarrassed and guilty about what had happened. Seungcheol had been an angel to you, and you had only returned a wound.

Seungcheol kept his hand clenched with his other hand; his knuckles had turned white from the force he was using to put pressure on the wound. The muscle in his arm was strained, and some of his veins had been marked on his wrist.

Seungcheol was bent forward, snarling slightly.

"I'm fine." He replied that his voice had become a mixture of a whisper and a growl.

"Are you sure? Let me see! God, I'm so sorry," you continued, standing up and approaching him. Seungcheol turned the other way, preventing you from seeing his palm.

"Yeah! It doesn't hurt that much; don't worry." He breathed out, his eyes were closed into two lines, and his lip was being attacked by his upper teeth.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that; don't be stubborn and let me see!" Your hand pushed Seungcheol with all your strength, attempting to turn him around, but it didn't phase him at all. "Seungcheol." You insisted.

He turned around, checking how much it hurt when he started applying less and less pressure to it.

His hand was so red you would have thought he had put it straight into the fire; his burns looked third-degree, and there were already distinct blisters around a perfect circle on the inside of it.

 

The circle was a perfect copy of your silver ring.

 

"Che cazzo?! I think you should put your hand in the water. Doesn't it burn?"

"No, no, that's it. It hardly hurts anymore; we should go back; you should be home before your mother scolds you."

Seungcheol put all the things in his backpack, biting his tongue when some things brushed against the wound on his hand. Luckily, to ease some of the guilt you felt, he allowed you to help him put it away.

Seungcheol escorted you home as promised, and before you went inside, he grabbed you by the wrist with the hand that was still intact.

"Thank you for agreeing to hang out today; I had a great time with you."

"I had a great time as well; it was really fun! I'm sorry again for hurting you." You mumbled, moving your feet and avoiding his eyes. "But I promise I'll make sure to bring some pastries the next time as an I'm sorry present."

"Next time?" Seungcheol replied with a big smile, and his fingers softly brushed away some hair that was brushing against your eyes.

"Well yeah, if you want to. But I might have to warn you; my siblings will come as well." You joked.

"I'll bring some of my friends as well, then. I bet our youngest will want to make friends."

The door suddenly opened, and a woman slightly taller than you was standing up with both of her hands on her hips, looking at you angrily.

"Dove diavolo eri? è passato il tempo in cui ti dicevo di tornare! Perché sei andato nella foresta quando ci sono state così tante voci su lupi mannari e bestie pericolose?"

You had no idea how I had discovered that you had been in the woods without one of your siblings ratting you out, but none of them knew (at least as far as you knew) where they were going to meet; not even you knew where they were going until they arrived at the picnic already arranged.

You felt a little embarrassed with your mother mentioning the supposed werewolf in front of Seungcheol, but looking at him for a few seconds, he seemed to be as lost as you were.

"Should I apologize?" Seungcheol asked you; his eyes were wide open, and suddenly his posture was perfect.

"No, I think you'd better leave. We can arrange our next friend's outing these days; come to the bakery anytime you want. I still owe you a treat as an apology."

Seungcheol said goodbye to you with a smile, and in a few minutes he was already disappearing through the forest.

The pain in his chest began to increase proportionally as he moved farther away from you.

But he tried to omit it; he had been with you for hours, and by now that should be enough for his wolf.

We'll see you the next day.

The burn on his hand still burned, and he just wanted to get home so someone could treat the wound. He had been such an idiot; he should have paid more attention to your silver accessories. Who else if he didn't want to end up dead before he confessed to you that he was a werewolf and that you were his mate?

Seungcheol came home with a contented vibration in his chest.

It had been a good day.

[familylightfox]

By late afternoon, Harmony was more than willing to take a break when Buddy had mentioned it. They had found all but three emeralds and the teen was well aware of where the last one would likely be waiting for her. Between the use of the cyberportals and running all over the island, she was exhausted and had been fast asleep not long after the fire had started.

It left Buddy to his thoughts. The young canine watched his girlfriend sleep, frowning at the flecks of red vapor floating off her fur. He just hated to see her in so much pain.

"You have seen the data. How can you believe that she will complete the goal she wishes to achieve?" The sudden voice made him jump, but thankfully, the movement wouldn't wake the exhausted teen. Golden eyes snapped in the direction of the voice.

"I don't need to see data to know that Harmony wouldn't let something like this slow her down. She's one of the strongest Mobians I know, and it's not just physical, either. She has one of the biggest hearts and puts everyone before herself... Even if..."

He trailed off, reaching down with a hand to move her bangs from her face.

If only he could.

"It is a shame that none of this will matter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buddy's expression shifted, gold eyes narrow but locked on Sage's face as she looked away.

"It is kinder if you do not know."

She was gone before he could repeat himself, and the two teens were left to themselves once more. Buddy let out a frustrated sigh but returned to reviewing the data they had collected so far and how he could use it to help Harmony get the remaining emeralds.

As the sun rose and Harmony began to rouse, she used a nearby creek to clean up a bit of the lingering dust and dirt of the last few days. The cool water did wonders to give her a bit of a wake up call. More than alert enough to hear the familiar sound, and turned to see Sage floating above her.

"If you're gonna try to talk me out of saving everyone, you're wastin' your breath." A quick shake of her head sent water flying.

"I still do not understand how you can risk everything for them."

"Simple. I'd do anythin' for the people I love and care about. If it means beatin' a few titans and figurin' out how t' get off the island. I'll do it." As she looked up at Sage, the teen tilted her head. "Wouldn't you? For your loved ones?"

"I... I do not..." A hand went to the girl's chest, expression faltering. "Loved ones... Someone you cherish above all else... Father..."

As suddenly as she appeared, Sage left Harmony there to herself. The teen's brows furrowed, but there wasn't much she could have said. She finished cleaning up before returning to Buddy. They had a full day ahead of them.

If it wasn't for their current state, this would have been a lovely place to relax and enjoy the sights. Harmony looked over at Buddy, inspecting more of the ancient technology with the sun hitting his digital form.

A hint of pink dusted her cheeks when he turned and caught her gaze.

"The pink suits you." He had to tease, watching the teen's cheeks darken ever further as she reached out with an arm.

"Sh-ut up! I do n-!" It wasn't until her hand phased through his arm that the teen had realized her mistake. No amount of flailing could save her from falling face first into the dirt. At least her laughter followed Buddy's as she pushed herself to sitting on the ground.

"I'm so gonna getcha back when we get home."

"I look forward to it." He smiled and leaned in. Despite the fact that he phased partially through, it was the thought that counted as he brushed their foreheads together. As he stood back up, he turned back to the tech he'd been inspecting.

"It's interesting how much of the ancient technology seems to depend on the Chaos Emeralds. It's almost like they were made specifically for them and went into stasis until the emeralds were brought here. I wonder what could have done it?"

"I saw some o' Eggman's stuff around when I was lookin' for the emerald's earlier. Maybe he did it?"

"Possibly. But we should keep going. There's only one emerald left to find, right?" Harmony nodded and stood, dusting off her legs and tail.

"Yeh. 'S probably with the Titan like the other two were. With any luck. Once I kick his ass, that should be it."

"Let's not waste any more time. I picked up something earlier in the data." This time, Buddy led the way, accessing terminals and data streams until he found what he was looking for. A valley surrounded by fog below them. If there was any linger doubts, the beam of light that shot into the sky was answer enough for Harmony as she stared down into the murky clouds.

"Be careful. I know you've taken down two already, but..." Buddy's words paused, the distortion of his cheek drawing his eyes to Harmony, who placed a gentle kiss as best she could. Her smile bright, accented by her pink cheeks as she stepped back and turned to the pit.

"I'll be back before ya know it." And with that, she jumped.

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

1,4,8,16,21 girl lemme know about your answers!!! ❤️❤️❤️

AAHHH! Thank you so much for the ask, love 🥰 Hopefully my answers aren’t too messy, however, I probably did overthink each one lol.

1. If someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

If someone wanted to understand my pessimistic soul they would need to read Fyodor Dostoevsky, Stephen King, and lots of historical fiction/nonfiction works. On top of this, they would need to read DC comic books such as Batman and the Joker AND read magazines about celebrities/films.

As far as movies go I’ll list some of my all-time favorites: The Shining, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, Ghost Rider, Moulin Rouge, Mean Streets, The Godfather: Part 2, JFK, Last Night in SoHo, and The Great Dictator. Sometimes the sequels are better (based on this list) 😅 But when I was younger I used to watch a lot of horror movies (Chucky, Friday The 13th, A Nightmare On Elm Street, Halloween, Scream, Paranormal Activity, Saw, etc.) then I got out of that phase and started watching a lot of Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger action films like Rambo and Commando, until I started watching more contemporary cinema a few years ago. My film tastes have been all over the place…

My music taste is even worse lmao. People would definitely need to listen to Lana Del Rey, specifically her Dark Paradise song. Other artists/bands would include Tears for Fears, Queen, Mötley Crüe, Subvision, Oasis, Billie Eilish, and Ghost. Below I’ll list a few other songs that resonate with me deeply on a personal level:

• Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood

• Congratulations - Post Malone

• Talking Body - Tove Lo

• In This Darkness - Clara La San

• Hey Now! - Oasis

• American Trash - Innerpartysystem

• Mad World - Gary Jules

• She’s Electric - Oasis

• Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

All in all I’m mostly a pop/punk-rock kid who grew up listening to a wide range of genres. I had artists like Rihanna, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, Bruno Mars, Adele, Lady Gaga, and Nicki Minaj play on the car radio everyday before going to school. Then my older sister would share her music with me and my brother, and she listened to bands like The All-American Rejects, Green Day, Three Days Grace, Panic! at the Disco, and Evanscence. My father even played his ‘80s music around the house which included Journey, Van Halen, Simple Minds, and Guns N’ Roses. As long as the songs are catchy I like a variety of different music. And I only have my family to thank for broadening my musical palette 🖤

4. Do you like your name? Is there another name you think would fit you better?

My real name? Not really. It’s too simple. I do like how it’s spelled differently tho, granted people often mispronounce it. As for my Tumblr name (Cine)? I like it better than my actual name. Idk…if I had to change my real name I would switch it to Dimitri or something.

8. What musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

Since I’m an old soul I connect a lot with Lana Del Rey. I LOVE how her aesthetic is vintage Hollywood glamour mixed in with 1950s-1970s Americana. I favor those time periods more than the one I’m currently living in. Her music speaks to me and I’m grateful to have found her in my life.

16. If you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same?

I don’t think any of us would tbh. The environment we grew up in shapes us and if that changes then we change, either for the better or for the worse, depending on how good or bad the situation is. The environment I grew up in was not perfect, but was it downright horrible? No. However, I was sheltered and it did cause me to form attachment issues and daddy issues well into my adulthood.

21. Do you love easily?

Yes 😆 Sometimes I love people a little too much lol. What’s funny is, if I look at someone, my gut instincts immediately tell me if they are a good or bad person, based on the feelings they provoke at first glance. If I feel weary of someone then I won’t have a good impression of them, but if it’s the complete opposite, then I’ll trust that person with my whole heart. It’s weird.

Phew…thanks again for the ask! 🫶🏻

✨Identity Crisis Ask Game✨

[slenderpinkbook]

丽 美: A Rose by Any Other Name

Li-Mei: 丽 (lì) meaning "beautiful, lovely", 黎 (lí) meaning "black, dawn", or 荔 (lì) meaning "lychee" combined with 美 (měi) meaning "beautiful" or 梅 (méi) meaning "plum, apricot". Other character combinations can form this name as well. (link)

Li-Mei: Pretty Flower

sounds like — Lily Rose, Lana, Lizzy

becomes: Iris (Chang)

An excess of the number 9 in this first name makes Li-Mei a fragile, highly emotional, imaginative, capricious, intuitive woman who is quite a dreamer. She is extremely sensitive, despite her cold and detached appearance which is nothing more than a defence mechanism. She could be quite disconcerting because she alternates between a tendency to be reserved, taciturn and introspective and a more excitable, passionate and talkative personality. It all depends on how she is feeling at the time and the atmosphere of where she happens to be, since she experiences the present moment with great intensity. She is cyclothymic and oscillates between phases of introversion (more accentuated if she was born on a 4th, 7th, 13th, 16th, 22nd, 25th, 31st, or if she has a Life Path Number of 4 or 7) and extroversion (more pronounced if she was born on a 3rd, 5th, 12th, 14th, 21st, 23rd, 30th, or if her Life Path Number is 3 or 5). Fortunately she tends to be lucky, because she is not always very well-armed faced with life's difficulties. She tends to easily cut herself off from reality or rush through life in an incessant mobility. Li-Mei is an anxious and terribly nervous creature which makes her rather prone to worry, to the great detriment of her serenity. However, if life is gentle with her she will reveal herself to be flexible and adaptable, cheerful and enthusiastic. She is a feminine and rather charming woman; and with the karmic 3, communication and expression play an important role in her life, either because the first four years of her existence are more or less internalized or because she simply feels a great need to speak. She grasps ideas quickly and possesses considerable intellectual agility, manual dexterity and practical sense. Her life could get off to a slow start but she will start catching up from around her twenty-third birthday... As a child, she demands much affection and attention, is quite dependent and tends to seek refuge in the safety of her imagination. It is important to provide her with plenty of stimulation and encouragement. Discipline and order are not her strong points, and her parents would be wise to keep a close eye on her education. It would be very beneficial for her to practice an artistic hobby, such as theatre for example, which would allow her to externalize her profound sensitivity and develop her faculties of expression; or dance, which would satisfy her need for mobility and flexibility...

Li-Mei doesn't appreciate any form of restriction which encroaches on her freedom and stifles her imagination. She enjoys adventure, change, novelty and the unknown, and is often inclined to soul searching. She has a talent for networking and negotiations and can be impulsive or even impatient. When it comes to love, she craves passion and isn't really cut out for a well-orchestrated or overly traditional life. She likes all that is unusual and unexpected, and loathes the routine. In order to seduce her one must surprise and amaze her. But be warned, Li-Mei tends to get bored quickly, and it would be wise to respect her great need for independence!

She isn't always particularly decisive or determined and things usually come to her rather than the other way around. Her career is therefore quite likely to depend on her circumstances, her emotional ties, the influence of her family and friends or possibly even chosen on the spur-of-the-moment. She will probably change direction relatively frequently and the following areas are likely to appeal to her: sales and marketing, travel, tourism; occupations involving oral or written expression (journalism, teaching, secretarial work...), in connection with creativity and the artistic sphere, particularly those requiring manual dexterity as well as certain avant-garde or very specialized professions (latest technology)...

[quillsareswords]

For the Valentine’s Day blurb I could imagine Damian showing you his art book along with the drawings of you he did over time while saying how much he loves you how grateful he is not those words exactly but just Valentine’s Day Damian talk you know

Kick off the the celebration y'all, happy wallowing season ✌️

MASTER LIST in BIO

It's sitting on your bed when you get home from a class. At first glance, you don't realize what it is. Some skinny black square sitting atop a bed that definitely wasn't made when you left.

You set your bag down and step closer. That's when you recognize the elegant golden embossed D.W. on the corner. He's stuck a red bow on the opposite corner, beside a white envelope. You're glad to see he's still putting that calligraphy course to good use, the way your name is scrawled so beautifully that you almost don't recognize it.

You pick up the card first. He didn't stick it shut, so the card slides out easily.

It's rough white parchment. The front boasts a gorgeous top-down bouquet of roses, all different colors, all outlined in black ink that acts as a barrier the watercolor paints don't respect. On the back, a gentle pink camellia.

It's hand painted.

You open it carefully. In true Damian Wayne fashion, he's spared no expense when it comes to paint. There are little vines of flowers crawling around the corners and slithering between the clusters. The words on either page are perfectly spaced and centered.

On the left page, "To my shining moon and glittering star; my only love and favorite muse; let this remind you how beautiful you really are."

On the right page, "You know I'm not a poet as I am an artist, but I'd try anything for you. This isn't all I'd like to give you today, but it is the gift I'm most proud of. I truly hope this will dismiss all those foolish ideas your mind crafts about yourself. I can't always be there to remind you in person, but this should be a decent placeholder. I love you terribly, my dear. [Signed,] Your Mr. Darcy, Damian."

You haven't even opened your gift yet and you're already close to tears. You set the card on your bedside table, propping it open so it stands up beneath your lamp.

And then you settle down against your headboard and pick up the sketchbook. It feels familiar in your hand—as it should. You weigh it passively in one hand, swimming through memories of summer evenings spent in the gardens, rainy spring mornings in front of his open balcony door, fall afternoons spent in the corner of a cafe, winter nights spent fireside. The number of times you've picked it up to hand it to him; the hours spent curled into his side, drifting in and out of sleep to the sound of graphite against paper.

The first page is Batcow's portrait. The second is a quick outline of a scene from the city park. On the adjacent page, a robin in the same style.

You spend the next two hours flipping through it. At first, it's just animals and landscapes, a few harsh scene sprinkled in—because who would Damian be with the shady darks to break up all the beauty. Somewhere after the more troubled images (zombies and battlefields and zombie battlefields and one you think might be the stronghold he was raised in being razed to the ground), his focus seems to shift. There are whole pages dedicated to practicing different human forms at different angles, and the farther you get, the more familiar they start to seem.

And then it really changes. The first one is rough; unerased guide lines, too-sharp angles. There's something about your face that's just off, but it is unmistakably you. The next is of the same stronghold, but this time it's cast in the flow of a messy watercolor sunset.

You watch his skill develop across the pages. And you watch yourself evolve along with it. You see the way you wore your hair in eighth grade, the phase of experimentation with makeup, the earrings you wore for three months solid, that ratty hoodie that's rotting in your closet. You watch your smiles get brighter while his painting improves, your confidence grows with his expertise. The closer you get, the more abstract his work becomes; the more emotion he pours into it.

There's one toward the end that nearly knocks the breath out of you. It's done from the perspective of his reading chair. His room is sketched out carefully, from the paintings on his walls to the clothes scattered lazily around the floor, it's all painstakingly captured in pencil and pen. He's used the colored pencils you'd given him for his birthday the week before to engrave the moment perfectly. The early rays of the morning sun are just spilling into the room, painting everything in gentle light.

You can hardly image yourself as the subject of such a piece, but there you are, settled among the blankets and pillows spread out on his bed like an angle laying in a cloud. You look– gorgeous. If this is how he sees you, it's no wonder you get to pick stars out in his eyes every morning.

You really hate him now. Jesus, he's the absolute worst.

He's surprised you with this– this home-run, heart-wrenching, emotionally-ruining, year-making gift on Valentine's Day. And he's alluded to have more to give you. And what did you get him? A booklet of handmade coupons for hugs and kisses, and a batch of your grandmother's brownies that he would not shut up about after Christmas. That bastard.

Guess you're gonna have to call the other grandma. This seems like a job for Grammy's famous cheesy veggie casserole.

[antiquemotel]

It was confirmed by a classmate that Sunoo Jay and Yuna are classmates, could you do a reading on their bond?

♡♡Sunoo, jay and Yuna Bond (extremely detailed) Tarot reading ♡♡

Hello lovely, sorry for the late reply, I just returned from my long awaited hiatus and am now refreshed and ready to accept requests<33 ( Yuna and the enha members you mentioned have a very specific energy flowing for them, kinda like the GIF so I'm eager to do this reading as well<3 ) Before I start, a quick Disclaimer:Tarot readings are subject to interpretation. All tarot readings given by me are for entertainment purposes only. Choosing to believe in the tarot is a choice.

Now, for Yuna, she always has this mature energy whenever I read for her, kind of like a desert rose. As I used to read for many of the ITZY members after their debut, I found that Yuna is probably the member with the biggest shift in energy. I am aware that They have all graduated and so this is more of a where their relationship is going moving forward, and what had happened before to cause that.

Jay and Sunoo seem closer than ever, this is evident in their daily interactions, and the fact that they're both in the same band probably makes that ideal for their improvement as a whole. Sunoo and Yuna definitely had a more flowering bond that Jay and Yuna. Honestly speaking, looking at the card placement, I doubt that Jay and Yuna ever really interacted in the first place. It seems like a hit or miss, Jay and Yuna would see each other for a second at a mutual friends get together, or a certain class, if taken at all. Jay never really took an initiative to speak with her, and maybe there was a reason behind it? Like an ACTUAL serious reason. Now, it's very evident that ITZY and Enhypen have been close at times away from the public eye, Especially Yuna, cozying up to a certain member (which I will not speak for~). ~~~This could have impacted Jay's chance at forming a relationship/friendship with her, despite him wanting to make amends. Now with Sunoo, he feels as if his feet are in cold water due to his inherent liking for Yuna and what was once a blossoming friendship seems to have dissipated into thin air. This seems to be from a certain awkwardness or from a lack of time/energy for them to reach out after graduation~? Perhaps from schedules or a lack of interest from both parties.

Reading for Jay and Yuna is like Reading for Jake and Ryujin, a ship that never seems to set sail. I just don't feel romantic energy at all any more, but there definitely could have been in the past, only a simple barrier stopping him. Either an inconsequential girlfriend, or maybe someone else with Yuna. (irrlyhatetobethebearerofbadnewsbut) a lot of idols date, and most of it isn't serious, esp among up and coming/rookies… Turns out, dating bans are mostly for public/ obvious dating? Like for example, if idols were to go out to private clubs/secret parties, companies wouldn't even bother trying to stop them. There's a WHOLE life inside of being an idol and soooo many scandals that will never be uncovered cuz of the kids that come from rich companies (heavy on the big 3 cough cough** YG cough ** cough**) that pay off news outlets (corrupt ik right).

Okay but Sunoo, he seems to actually be such a sweetheart, OMFG. A lot of idols I read for aren't actually the people they appear to be online, but Sunoo FRR just chilling. He was SCANDAL FREE until a few months ago, where something to do with a crush popped up, and the members found out? But it was swept under the rug immediately as it was quote on quote “Unconventional” ykykyk I'm just not going to elaborate because that's some HEAVY stuff that could end his career if it were to be shared among K-netz...

Yuna right now seems to have moved on from her High school phase, as she is speedily trying to outgrow the childish image others set out for her… She seems to be getting involved in the wrong crowd recently? Or maybe it's just a switch in concept from the company. Anyway, I feel a much more at peace version of Yuna than ever before, as she seems to have let go of any past jealousy or misunderstanding/failed attempts at forming connections.

That's it for the reading my loves<3 a bit heavy, but it must be said… I do answer requests, so please do feel free to send me some (anons welcome), and I do in fact also do personal Tarot readings! Here and Personal ships Here

Buy me a Coffee<3

My Masterlist<3

(I'm planning to add a bit more NSFW to my Masterlist so if you have any suggestions on what you'd like to see, feel free to request or DM me, if you would like to talk, my door is always open LYSM<3)

copyright AntiquemotelⒸ︎ (Tumblr), 2021. All rights reserved. Do not repost or plagiarise.

[jjacob]

all i want for christmas is you

❝ the school had started to take notice of you. lee juyeon, however, had always noticed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader (ft. best friend!lee minho)

GENRES ▸ fluff, high school au, sports au, best friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity but !! lots of !! fluff !! 

SUMMARY ▸ the bet was simple: find a date to the winter ball. the only problem was that juyeon didn’t want just any girl. he wanted you.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey

WORD COUNT ▸ 5055 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ merry christmas! this is a gift for addy @honeyju​ the biggest juyeon simp ik !! ily addy i am excited/scared/not emotionally ready to read the minho one which ! btw y’all should read here bc our stories are loosely connected! also disclaimer: i know jack shit ab football but i tried

LEE JUYEON TENDED TO REGRET HALF THE THINGS HE SAID SOMETIMES. 

In eighth grade, Juyeon’s sense of humor was largely self-deprecating and consisted of saying he wanted to die at the slightest inconvenience. But, with his spectacular timing, he let the joke slip in front of a teacher once and froze up upon seeing her concerned expression. Juyeon later received a note from the counselor’s office and had to convince them that he was perfectly fine.

In tenth grade, Juyeon had grown past his phase of dark humor and moved onto high school football. He made the cut for the team the previous year, and managed to make it on the varsity team by the time he was a sophomore. In the beginning of the season, they asked who wanted to be captain the next year, and Juyeon boldly declared that he did. Thus, he was ridiculed and sentenced to pick up balls and clean up the gym after every practice from then on.

Now, as a high school junior in the varsity football team, Juyeon had screwed himself over by making a stupid bet with his best friend, Lee Minho.

Lee Minho was, in short, a conniving bastard. Juyeon never should have trusted him and gone along with his antics. The mere thought of what he had gotten himself into was enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The bet sounded simple enough: find a date to the Winter Ball.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but Juyeon was a star athlete and had girls sliding in his DMs left and right. He could easily find a date if he wanted to, and, honestly, Juyeon only needed to send a few texts and he would probably be secured for the dance. The problem was, however, that Juyeon only wanted you.

Minho was well aware of Juyeon’s pitiful, unrequited love towards you. It was probably the reason he suggested the bet; his best friend either wanted to see him miserable or see him score a chance with you. Either way, Juyeon wasn’t sure his heart was ready to shoot his shot.

Juyeon had crushed on you ever since you sat next to him in the seventh grade and let him borrow your pencil. It was such a silly start to his admiration for you, but his feelings grew stronger when the both of you actually became friends. You were so bright when you laughed, so sweet when you spoke, and so adorable when you smiled. Juyeon had never felt this way about anyone else and always got butterflies when he saw you. Juyeon was never one to chase after girls but he would find himself constantly thinking about what you were up to and having several internal dilemmas over whether he should ask you to hang out or not.

Five years later and Juyeon still harbored feelings for you. Now, they had matured into something deeper, but you still racked his brain nevertheless. It didn’t help that you had a major glow-up in high school and were probably the most beautiful person Juyeon had ever seen.

The school started to take notice of you.

Juyeon, on the other hand, had always noticed.

“Are you sure we can finish a medium before practice?” Minho asked Juyeon, setting a box of pizza on the table in front of him. “Also, I saw Y/N by the gym earlier.”

Juyeon perked up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “You know what day it is, right?”

Minho took a bite out of his pizza, observing Juyeon with a raised brow. His best friend was on the baseball team but treating themselves to pizza had become a monthly ritual. Despite being on different teams, he was closer to Minho than his football teammates.

“Thursday?”

“And that means?”

Right.

Juyeon had formulated an elaborate plan to ask you out during the football game today, but, of course, it all depended on whether their team won or not. It would have been kind of ridiculous to propose after a loss. On the bright side, he knew he could count on the fact that you’d actually be present considering you were a cheerleader.

But what if you already had a date? You surely hadn’t mentioned it to him or posted about it on social media, so he was riding on an assumption that you haven’t been asked. That was bizarre to Juyeon, though, because you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. However, it was true that you were gradually getting popular, and that made Juyeon a touch nervous.

“I ask her out tomorrow,” Juyeon breathed out. “Am I ready for this?”

Minho scoffed lightly. “Are you ever?”

Juyeon frowned at his best friend, scrunching up his nose at his distasteful comment. “What about you? Have you gotten a date?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juyeon sighed. That was probably all he would get out of Lee Minho today. Once Minho set his mind on something, he carried it out diligently until the end. Juyeon honestly had no idea who he wanted to bring since Minho didn’t like talking about girls he was interested in, but he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal as long as his best friend was happy.

It wasn’t like Juyeon was never going to hear about his friend’s endeavors. After all, he did pick up on Minho’s slow descent from an apathetic individual to a whipped ball of fluff. If Juyeon mentioned that to his best friend, however, he would probably be ridiculed for consistently being whipped for you since the seventh grade.

Juyeon nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his ringer going off. He scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Minho’s teasing smirk at the sight of his frazzled self.

y/n: hey :) i’m gonna drop off some gingerbread cookies my mom made after practice so lmk when i can come over

Juyeon must have saved a country in a past life for this kind of luck.

juyeon: i love your mom’s cookies. you can come over whenever you’d like

y/n: how about we walk home together after practice?

juyeon: sounds good to me

Now, the pizza was starting to make his mouth water, but if you were walking home with him, Juyeon was ready to drop it and run to see you even though he loved pizza. But Juyeon loved you more than he loved pizza, and he believed that was true love.

“She made me cookies,” Juyeon announced.

“She made you cookies,” Minho repeated, leaning forward in surprise.

“Well, her mom did, but yeah.”

Minho turned his attention back to his pizza. “So this is about your mommy kink again.”

“I don’t have a fucking mommy—why would you say that?” Juyeon cried out, kicking his friend’s shin under the table.

“You don’t? Last time I checked, she was making dinner in the kitchen when I came over yesterday.”

“I’m talking about the kink!”

Yet, even a silly back-and-forth with Minho couldn’t get Juyeon down from his high over you. He was still processing the fact that you were going to walk home with him and, if Juyeon played his cards right, maybe he could get a feel of how comfortable you would be if he asked you out during the game tomorrow.

Minho snickered. “You look happy.”

Juyeon couldn’t even mask his lovesick smile and flushed cheeks. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them, his head spinning at the thought of you.

“Shut up, Minho.”

The only problem with you being on the cheerleading team was that you were extremely distracting.

Juyeon was the star quarterback and frankly, it was kind of pathetic that the one thing that kicked him in the ass was seeing you in the knee socks and pom-poms. It didn’t help that you were a flyer so Juyeon’s stomach pitted with anxiety whenever he saw you being thrown up and whenever he heard a scream coming from the direction of the cheerleaders.

Today was different, though. Juyeon could care less about the screams and falls from the corner of the field. All he could think about was you and how he was going to ask you out. If his plan was going to work, it was going to draw a lot of attention and be quite embarrassing if it failed.

All of his confidence got knocked down with a single sweep when he saw someone asked you to the dance.

One of the cheerleaders broke into a fit of giggles at the sight, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god!”

You were frozen stiff, an awkward smile on your face as the guy walked onto the field with a sign and about a dozen roses. Juyeon could feel his heart sinking to the ground with each step the guy took, with each second his smile grew brighter.

“Is he seriously confessing during practice?” Sohn Youngjae asked, brows furrowed as he rested his arm on Juyeon’s shoulder. “That’s real brave.”

“What’s his deal doing it here? He isn’t even on the team,” Juyeon said, coming off more bitter than he had expected.

Younghoon scoffed. “It’s a bold move. He must be confident that Y/N’s going to say yes.”

Juyeon squared his shoulders. He was conflicted with the swell of anger and deflation of you possibly being taken, but nevertheless, all he could do was watch helplessly as you were being asked out. From where they were on the field, Juyeon couldn’t hear much, but he could see your reactions quite well. The wolf-whistles and cheers were pissing him off, but he was fixed on you.

He turned to look towards Minho, who was practicing on the field adjacent to theirs. His best friend met his gaze immediately like they had some form of exclusive telepathic communication. Minho nodded towards you and raised a brow, as if nudging Juyeon to go interrupt them. That, however, was something he was far too cowardly to bring himself to do.

Your voice resounded clearer than Juyeon had expected.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized sincerely, ducking your head and keeping your hands entwined behind you. “I’m not interested, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Juyeon felt a weight lift off of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved that you shot him down or nervous that you rejected an attractive, confident guy who clearly liked you. However, he soon had no time to mull over that when the guy’s reaction was getting more aggressive than crestfallen.

“Y/N, I asked you out in front of all these people,” he said with a distasteful laugh. “Are you seriously rejecting me right now?”

“Sorry, I just don’t want to go with you,” you replied firmly, voice dropping as you became more conscious of your surroundings. “I’m sorry it had to be public but you didn’t really give me a choice.”

For a split second, Juyeon wondered how he could still hear you when you were practically muttering at this point, and then he realized that he started walking to you without even realizing. His feet carried him unknowingly, hand balled at his side and eyes stony and trained on the guy.

“You could’ve just accepted it and told me later that you didn’t want to go with me,” he said with a scoff. “It’s like you enjoy humiliating others publicly.”

Your teammates rushed forward to argue and fend him off while you opened your mouth to protest, but Juyeon was faster, moving in front of you so he was head-to-head with the guy.

“She said she’s not interested,” he said with a threatening undertone, wondering where he managed to muster up the courage to be this assertive.

You were visibly shocked by Juyeon’s actions, and he couldn’t even blame you because he was equally just as surprised as you were. Yet, all he could do was glare daggers down at the other guy with steely eyes and frown until he backed off.

“Thanks,” you said softly once the guy had left.

Juyeon was flustered by all the girls giggling behind you but was amazed by how cool and collected you remained despite that. He turned to you, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He knew he was getting an earful about this from his teammates after practice and most definitely from Minho as well.

“No problem,” Juyeon replied, cheeks red. “He was bothering you. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“That was really sweet of you, Juyeon.” You bit back a smile and suggested, “Meet you at the front gates after practice?”

“See you then.”

Even though Juyeon could’ve spent the rest of practice talking to you, he sprinted back as fast as he could because his cheeks were only getting redder as the cheerleaders gushed about what he did for you. He could hear their gossip and whispering even as he was running back to his team. Juyeon was positive he wouldn’t escape the embarrassment, though, because Lee Jaehyun was smirking at him when he got back.

“You’re blushing, dude.”

Juyeon shoved him.

There was a universal law that was newly decreed. It read: Lee Minho shall never text, call, or speak to Lee Juyeon whenever Y/N was around.

The reason for that being the fact that Juyeon was easily embarrassed and Minho’s texts were not helping his case. He felt it was rude enough to check his phone while he was walking with you, but every time he saw a notification flash, his eyes widened with sheer distress over Minho’s texts.

minho: like three people asked me if you and y/n are fucking bc of what you pulled during practice today

minho: wait are y’all fucking and just not telling me

minho: i knew it was sus that she was coming over to your house

juyeon: fake news!! stop making me feel shy :(

Juyeon decided he had enough Lee Minho for today and turned off his phone.

“That was honestly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” you gushed to Juyeon as you walked home with him, fingers looped around the straps of your backpack. “Way cooler than you punting footballs.”

“No need to flatter me,” Juyeon replied coolly but his shy smile and red-tipped ears said otherwise. “That guy was being unnecessarily aggressive.”

“His proposal was out of nowhere!” you exclaimed. “I don’t get what he expected me to do.”

Juyeon smiled through the pain. Lord, give me strength, he prayed to whatever divine power was out there.

“Are you not interested in having a date to the dance then?” Juyeon asked, looking down at you curiously.

You paused for a moment and Juyeon thought his heart would stop in anticipation for your answer. Come to think of it, he had never seen you go to a school dance with a date before. You were always with your friend group. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see you stick with them, but Juyeon was hoping he could change that.

“Well,” you started, “if the right person asked me then I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Juyeon couldn’t exactly read your smile but it made him want to faint. The rest of the walk back home was spent talking about school and football, but Juyeon couldn’t get your answer to his question out of his head. He even walked past his house because his head was so full of you, resulting in you needing to stop him and tell him that they had already reached his place.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Juyeon’s mom chirped with a good-natured smile. “How has your mom been?”

Juyeon’s eyes widened upon the realization that they never stopped by at your place first to get the cookies. He opened his mouth to interject but you went on to answer.

“She’s been great, Mrs. Lee,” you replied, smiling just as big, and pulled out a box of cookies from your bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“That’s so sweet! Give her my thanks,” his mom replied and opened the door wider once she accepted the cookies. “Come in for some tea, will you?”

Juyeon was practically frozen at the doorway while you were taking off your shoes and walking inside. If you had the cookies with you this entire time, then why didn’t you just give them to him to take home himself? Unless you were worried about the courtesy, it was a bit out of your way to take the time to walk home with Juyeon to deliver them.

“Juyeon, what are you doing out there?” his mom asked. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

“Right.”

Having you over at his house wasn’t exactly the sparkly fantasy that Juyeon thought it would be.

He was getting quite jealous of your mom hogging all of your attention. It wasn’t like you and Juyeon drifted apart during high school, so he wasn’t sure why his mom had to pull you away from him and have her own conversation with you. The worst part was that Juyeon couldn’t even join in on the conversation. He had no idea what they were even talking about.

That is, until his mom brought up the dance.

“Do you have a date, Y/N?” Juyeon’s mom asked.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually just go with my friends.”

“You’re so pretty, though,” Mrs. Lee tutted. “I’m sure someone must’ve asked you out.”

“Actually, someone asked me today,” you said. There was a moment of silence as you looked over at Juyeon while his gaze bore into yours. For a moment, you were struggling for what to say, mouthing words that weren’t being processed. Juyeon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly once you regained your composure. “Juyeon actually helped me out.”

Mrs. Lee straightened up. “My son did?” She looked amused as she turned to Juyeon.

“Yeah,” you answered, grinning. “He was really cool.”

Juyeon blushed darkly once their eyes were on him. “W-what? I couldn’t ignore it. I wasn’t even doing that much. I was just helping out. You know, being a decent person,” he rambled and stood up. “Anyways, isn’t it getting late? Mom, Y/N has to go home soon and it’s gonna be pitch black outside if you keep her here.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Mrs. Lee frowned as she peered out the window. “Juyeon, you walk her home then.”

“What?” he sputtered out, looking between you and his mom before he caved, muttering, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

After an exchange of goodbyes, you had stepped out of the house and waited while Juyeon was slipping his shoes on. There was a moment of struggle where he had tied his laces too tight and couldn’t get the shoe on but he managed to slip it on after a few seconds of internal screaming. Juyeon zipped up his jacket the moment he stepped outside, the brisk coldness making his goosebumps rise.

“You really don’t have to walk me back,” you told Juyeon. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s really late,” Juyeon replied, rubbing his hands together in hopes that the friction would provide some heat. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself, and I really don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your face. “For this, for what you did during practice—everything.”

Juyeon was glad that you weren’t looking at him because his mouth was opening and closing over and over again like a fish. He was also thankful for the fact that he could blame the dust of pink across his cheeks on the cold winter bite. Unfortunately, you lived close by so Juyeon didn’t have time to come up with a cool response and he didn’t want to leave things like this. There was a good vibe going on and he was upset that he couldn’t act upon it; when it came to you, Lee Juyeon was a coward.

“Um, we’re here so…” Juyeon trailed off when he turned to you, sort of thrown off by how beautiful you looked with your windswept hair and flushed cheeks. Dazed, he reached forward and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. “It’s good I walked you home and you’re not like, lost or… something—I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed, and it was an octave higher as if you were rattled from him touching your hair. “Ah, yes, a few streets down can be a harrowing trek.”

Juyeon laughed with you before his eyes settled on you. Your hands were crossed, rubbing your arms that were prickled with goosebumps. A wave of guilt washed through Juyeon and led him to strip his jacket off immediately. He ignored the piercing chill and put his jacket around your shoulders, making sure they covered your bare arms.

“My house is right here,” you argued. “You’re going to be cold.”

“Keep it on. I have something to tell you after the game,” Juyeon said firmly. It was his second burst of courage for you today and he was a little too amped up for his own good. “If you don’t like it then give me back my jacket tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Juyeon turned on his heel and bolted home, the biggest grin across his face because he was head-over-heels for you.

Juyeon had never been so nervous in his life.

The game was underway, Juyeon’s leg bouncing as he eyeballed the scoreboard. His team was strong in the first two quarters, cutting it close by the third, but now they were neck-to-neck. They had ended with a tie and now they decided to go into overtime for the sake of choosing a winner for the game. It was a sudden death round so whoever scored first would win the game. Juyeon, however, found it difficult to concentrate.

Especially with Lee Minho breathing down his back.

“Are you ready?” his best friend asked.

“Yes—well, no, but I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I already made the sign and told the team and everything,” Juyeon whined. “I really screwed myself over, Minho.”

Minho pushed at the back of his head. “Dude, I’m talking about the game.”

“Oh, that—that’s fine,” Juyeon stammered. “Fifteen minutes—we just have to win, and then I have to ask out the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You could chicken out,” Minho suggested, “but that also comes with me never letting you live it down.”

“You see, I kind of already implied that I’m going to tell her something important.”

“You did?” Minho’s voice was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Juyeon muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Keep the poster safe for me!”

“Good luck, champ!”

Juyeon, sweaty and bangs sticking to his forehead, had to ignore every distraction and think about winning the game before his stomach threw itself into a pool of anxiety over asking you out. He got in a huddle with his team in the remaining fifteen seconds they had before they had to get in formation and lowered the facemask of his helmet. It was up to this one last play to determine whether they would win the game or not.

“Just like we practiced, alright?” Juyeon told them. “Double-wing power pass. We get them to bite thinking it’s a run play and then open up a passing lane.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Jaehyun cheered, and the rest of them put in their mouth guards and lowered their facemasks.

Juyeon took a shaky breath as he got in formation at the line of scrimmage. His heart was racing but he wasn’t sure it was about the game. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and held his ground. The whistle blew and the crowd was silent, observing the tension on the field carefully.

“Silver-80! Silver-80! Hut! Hut! Hike!” Juyeon yelled, and the center, Sangyeon, snapped the ball to him.

Juyeon faked a handoff to Jaehyun, the fullback, and spun around, rolling to his right. Changmin sped up in front of Juyeon to defend him. A smile tugged at Juyeon’s lips. Their plan was working just as he intended, but there was a problem: they couldn’t open up a passing lane for the running backs like he thought they would. The play was too rushed, so it wasn’t ever a guarantee.

So Juyeon had to do what he would normally deem crazy.

He spun at the sight of the other team coming to tackle him and skirted around the field, belting down the field. He dodged past another linebacker that tried to body him. His primary motivation was that he didn’t want a concussion before he confessed to you, but he assumed it was okay to admit that to himself as long as he didn’t throw the game.

Juyeon felt a hand grab him but he pushed forward, running across the goal line and into the end zone. He threw the ball down and cried out in joy as he scored a touchdown. The whistle blew and the scoreboard flipped. They won.

He did it.

Juyeon’s team ran to him, cheering at the top of their lungs. He was lifted up on Jaehyun and Younghoon’s shoulders, grinning happily before his heart sunk back down. The cheerleaders ran to the field, cheering and tossing their pom poms up. The crowd was roaring. Juyeon was realizing that he had to do the scariest thing that a heterosexual teenage boy ever had to experience.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” Juyeon tapped his shoulder quickly. “We have no time. I have to do it now.”

“Oh shit.”

Jaehyun and Younghoon dropped Juyeon onto the turf. Juyeon winced at the sudden impact, gathering himself back to his feet and hoping you didn’t witness that. Jaehyun gave him a half-assed apology and pushed him forward to run and get his poster and flowers from Minho. Jaehyun then grabbed Changmin by the shoulders, urging him to go to the announcer’s booth.

Juyeon sprinted over to Minho, waving his hands dramatically. “Give, give, give,” he demanded amongst all the cheering.

Minho didn’t waste any time and pushed the poster and bouquet into Juyeon’s hands. “Break a leg, tiger.”

“Trust me, I nearly did.”

Juyeon jogged back onto the field, cheeks hot and head a little dizzy for what was about to come. He didn’t even tell his mom he was going to ask you out and she had to watch her son ask his best friend out to the dance. This was probably going to be a moment of utter humiliation but once Juyeon saw you in your high ponytail with a bright smile on your face, all that fear faded away and it was just you and him.

More importantly, you were wearing his jacket over your uniform and Juyeon felt like he was going to combust from the cuteness.

“Guys, guys,” Jaehyun called to the team. “Surround Juyeon. Make sure Y/N doesn’t see him.”

Juyeon’s heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He was glad he was running on the adrenaline from winning the game because otherwise, he would be cowering in fear and sweating buckets right now.

“Everyone, listen up!” Changmin spoke over the intercom. “First of all, the football team scored a major dub today—ow! Sunwoo, cut it out—alright, I’ll get to it!” Changmin broke from the mic and started bickering with Sunwoo.

There was a pause, and Juyeon was surprised to hear Minho’s voice fill the speakers, “Anyways, my buddy and our star quarterback, Juyeon, has something to say for a special someone.”

The crowd fell silent, a couple cheers and wolf-whistles as it was pretty obvious that a confession was about to happen.

“This is so fucking fluffy,” Sunwoo mumbled.

“Shut up, Sunwoo,” Juyeon replied, nudging him with his elbow.

The football team moved out of the way so that they weren’t huddled around Juyeon anymore. Juyeon’s breath caught in his throat as he walked forward to the middle of the field, holding up his sign, reading: Will you be my sunshine?

“Y/N,” he called out loudly, “honestly this confession is long overdue, but will you go to Winter Ball with me tonight and be my sunshine?”

The crowd started cheering and whistling again, and Juyeon wanted to die. She hadn’t even given him her answer yet and everyone was acting like she had agreed and they eloped. The cheerleaders pushed Y/N forward and she approached Juyeon, looking like a deer in headlights.

Juyeon took another shaky breath and continued, “I’ve been in love with you for so long so it would be an honor if I could take you to the dance,” he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You bit your lip but that wasn’t enough to contain the happiness that showed on your face. You zipped up Juyeon’s jacket and threw yourself into his arms. Everyone practically exploded but Juyeon was sure his heartbeat was louder. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

Was this what people called a Christmas miracle?

“Oh shit!” Changmin screamed over the intercom. (“Shut up, they’re having a moment,” Minho’s faint voice was picked up in the background).

“Oh my god, you just made me the happiest man alive,” he mumbled.

You pulled back and reached forward to move his damp bangs off of his forehead. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, did you—did you like me?” Juyeon choked out.

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands. There was a shaky inhale and exhale of breaths when his lips brushed against yours, and Juyeon closed the distance, kissing you like he was starved of your touch. His hold tightened on you as you melted into him, and then you both pulled away, smiling and dazed and lovesick.

You giggled. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, grinning as he brushed his nose against yours.

Juyeon could care less about all the presents and holiday cheer because he had you and you were all he wanted.

[reddevil-xiv]

Prompt #24: Change

Prompt 24: Vicissitudes - FFXIV Write 2022  Characters: Talia, with Idristan (@roses-and-grimoires), and mention of Caedh (@thedarknesssings)

Change was a funny sort of thing, wasn’t it?

Her life had been touched so many ways by so many people.She’d found love, cast it away. Accidentally bound herself to someone in marriage and then lost it when she was killed, only to come back a star. Her fate had been an uncertain thing, like a boat being pitched on the waves. 

Even she had never known where she was going to end up. She certainly hadn’t expected the place that she’d landed herself in. She’d prepared herself for an early grave, a spark on a wick that was eventually going to burn itself out to nothing. 

And then there he was. Her very own private complication.

A man who wore long white hair in a tight ponytail pinned at the nape of his neck with a sarcastic attitude that hit parallel levels of her own. Civilized, polished, prickly and standoffish. A rapier wit to match the one at his hip, and a love for roses. 

He kept her at a distance, and she was happy to push his boundaries. He needed friends, for he seemed to have so few, at least in the group. And then they clashed. And clashed. And clashed. And she thought they would never get along. 

She could pinpoint the exact moment that their winds began to shift. A conversation on a beach while she sat curled in on herself, mismatched eyes watching the sea while it lapped at the white shores of the Mists. She had been despondent, and he had been walking to try and bring peace to a troubled mind. 

He had joined her on her stone, and they had talked. And talked. They had talked through the night, until the sun started to rise. Of all the things that troubled them both, of the weights around their respective hearts. Lonely souls, hurting together. 

It had continued the slow spiral on their wheel, from friends, to not quite enemies, to friends, to lovers. Each of those individual phases had been slow to arrive. Except the last two. Becoming friends again felt easy, felt natural. Lovers? That one was slower.

They had both needed some time to hurt. To ache. To crumple, and then to pick themselves back up. And they did it hand in hand. What was the phrase? Shared grief creates a close bond? They were proof of that, weren’t they? She hadn’t planned to ever develop the kind of feelings she had. She wasn’t certain he had either.

She had never put importance on romance. It wasn't necessary, she'd eventually decided. And then there were Idristan and Caedh. Breaking her barriers down. Cracking the fortifications she'd tried to put up around her heart. They'd burrowed their way in, each in their own way.

—

Talia lifted her head just slightly, gaze drifting the few ilms up the chest she’d been laying atop to the slumbering form of her Ishgardian. He lay in repose, relaxed and at peace, white hair spilling across a shoulder and over the black pillow beneath his head. 

One of her hands curled back in, fingers lacing with his to draw the back of his knuckles to the brush of her lips. He stirred only slightly, head tipping towards her as eyes barely cracked open, thin slivers of silver-jade as he gave her a drowsy smile. She leaned in to press a second kiss to the corner of his mouth, murmuring quietly to encourage him back to sleep. 

His eyes drifted closed again as her head lowered back to where she’d been resting. She let her own eyes close again, lulled towards the steady, dreamless sleep of their kind while his arms tightened about her once more. Her consciousness floated free, drifting and at peace while the whole of her sight was filled with stars

One beloved in her arms, the other not far off, casting his stars across the sky while they slumbered, waiting for the moment she would chase him across the sky so he could join them, when dawn overtook night.

Yes.

Change was a funny sort of thing, after all.

[halcyon-writings]

OK BUT SERIOUSLY SINCE REQUESTS R OPEN MAY I GRACIOUSLY REQUEST AN ETHAN WINTERS (RE8) X DAUGHTER READER (PLATONIC) WHOS A TEEN AND ACCOMPANIES HIM ON THE JOURNEY AND SHES REALLY PROTECTIVE OVER HER AND SHE DISAPPEARS IN THE DIMITRESCU CASTLE ONLY TO BE FOUND BY ETHAN LOCKED IN A OR SUM SHIT WAITING FOR ETHAN THANK YOU TAKE CARE OF URSELF IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH HSHAHAHAH

so idk if this was a request for hcs or a fic so i kind of just did a combo of the two

warnings/notes: canon typical violence, some mentioned re7 + village spoilers, gn!reader

It starts off how stories like these always do, a man has no need to go into a terrifying yet quiet town or farmhouse, but he does anyway, because he has a big heart to make up for the lack of rational sense. He knew something was wrong about Mia’s final video call, that her message was showing anything but the fact that she was safe. So he loaded up his car and got to driving.

And now who would’ve thought that it domino’d into Ethan Winters, currently hoisting up his teenaged child into a farm house’s window to unlock it from the inside so that a group of bloodthirsty lycans would not tear them apart, being here?

He wishes he could tell what you were thinking. When he had found you back at the Baker’s home, you were quiet, skittish, and scared. But unharmed for the most part, molded and the infected family alike seemed to avoid you. Well not Lucas, but he was the textbook example of homicidal, so Ethan supposed he didn’t count. Sure with the time passing, you had gotten comfortable, and the therapy Chris and his group had provided helped too. But you were still quiet for the most part.

Until something changed. Rather spending time with Mia, you kept to yourself in your room. Otherwise you kept around Ethan himself or baby Rose if the parents needed you to look after her while they worked during the day, or at least when Mia had strangely not wanted to keep Rose with herself at all times. At meal times you had made yourself scarce too, quickly finishing what you had on your plate and cleaning your dish, returning to your room. Mia’s behavior was strange and he had ticked it off as being concerned but wanting to give you your space.

“You know how teenagers are,” She would say with a simple shrug. “I’m sure whatever this phase is will end soon.”

And then it didn’t.

Because now you were being dragged out of your room by men in all sorts of gear with weapons pointed at you, Rose’s cries echoing throughout the dark house while you fruitlessly struggled against them. You hear Ethan call out for you, righteous anger and worry in his voice. You try and reach for him, but only feel a sharp pain at the back of your neck. Your vision goes dark and so does your consciousness follows soon after.

And that’s how you both end up here. The truck meant to transport you somewhere crashes. You ignore the bad feeling as you step out, snow crunching beneath your shoes. At least they let you put on decent shoes, your fuzzy slippers surely would’ve been soaked by the snow.

Ethan calls your name and you look up, he begins to take off the large jacket from the bodies, the bodies, left of the soldiers meant to take you to wherever Chris had wanted you to go. And your shivering form doesn’t help, a small and thin sweater only doing so much for you. It should’ve felt wrong to disrespect the dead like that but your mother- guardian was dead, and your baby sister was missing.

The village was an experience from hell, memories of the Baker House were quick to rear its ugly head. You try and cover your ears, eyes shut tight as you crouch in an attempt to make yourself smaller. From those, creatures almost mauling you and Ethan losing his fingers, to Luisa and those villagers, they did not deserve the gruesome end they got.

Ethan kneels beside you, hands cupping your head as he brings you close into an embrace, quiet assurances that you both will be leaving soon, finding Rose and going home. “I’ll protect you kiddo,” He swears, and you believe it. Your head is tucked under his chin, and Ethan remembers that you’re still a child too, his words to protect you weren’t just that, as he swears to himself. He would tear those things apart for both of his children, to make sure they could go home and live in peace. His heart clenches however, when his mind trails to Mia and how she would not be with them.

And then you reach a wine cellar of all places. Before you meet a mysterious man that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. And then a metal pipe goes through his leg, and the pair of you are encased in metal scrap, being dragged to who knows where. Finding yourselves in a cold chapel, in front

Although the worried look you send his way makes Ethan think maybe it was better off to be back in the wine cellar. As the man- Heisenberg- forces him to run while you’re dragged back. You try to run at least, but you don’t make it far. The Very Tall and Dangerous Looking Lady peers down at you from underneath the brim of her hat. But rather than malice, it’s... warmth?

And once more your poor head is a victim of a sharp hit, losing consciousness again. The last bit you see is your father-figure all but being pushed down a hole as he flees the lycans that surrounded him, continuing to look back at you in worry. You shake your head, hoping it conveyed that you wanted him to go.

But now you can’t say in particular that you’re having a bad time, since you’re inside, the fire from the castle’s several hearths keeping the place warm. The Lady of the house introduces you to her daughters. You can’t help but shrink behind her when they all seemingly surround you both.

Lady Dimitrescu only laughs behind a gloved hand. And allows you all to mingle. If you could call it that by being locked away in a spare room. You couldn’t even stop them, they had the ability to lose a physical form by turning into flies. You wished you had some kind of power like that. You don’t hear much from any of them after that. Occasionally you hear the tall woman’s steps around the corridor, but that’s it.

You chew your lip nervously, a bad habit that you thought you had gotten rid of since Louisiana. You can only stare out the window hopelessly, being on a tall floor, the fall would’ve grievously injured you or worse. The smooth brick was not good for climbing. You tried at least attempting to break the door down, but whatever it had been made off was practically impossible to break. (Your poor shoulder still aches from trying to ram it down). Gun shots echoing through the mansion don’t sooth your nerves either, maybe Redfield was here too, either to finish the job he started with-

The click of the lock makes you jump, quickly grabbing a glass vase, hiding behind the door. Your eyes close as you look down, you tremble. Before throwing it all to the wind and just tossing the large vase in an attempt to make a run for the unlocked door. Only to be stopped by a face you thought you’d never see again.

“Dad?” Your voice is raspy, from the lack of use, but you can’t manage say anything else as you’re brought into a tight hug, almost falling to the ground from the sheer relief you had felt seeing him alive. He quickly checks you over, chin in his hand as he inspects you for any obvious injury, quickly hugging you once more. 

“It’s okay, I’m here now,” You notice his hands, bandages bloodier from before. “Let’s find get out of here,” He says with finality and you nod. You carefully take his hand, the one that actually did have all five fingers, giving it a squeeze. Now it was time to escape and find your little sister. 

[sylverstorms]

Miranda x Mia---- Eternal

A Ko-Fi commission I wrote for the wonderful @saltwatereulogies. Thank you so very much for the support and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Drip. Splatter.

The first sound you’re aware of is that of the occasional waterdrop crashing onto the same humid, uneven floor you’re lying on.

The second is the sound of her voice.

“Rise and shine.” she says, somewhere off to the side. You are still too disoriented to pinpoint exactly where.

You’re not dizzy enough, though, to not immediately realize you’re trapped. The way the light behind your captor shines makes it all the more obvious, casting large shadows in the shape of your prison bars across your small, moldy cell.

“Y-you…” you struggle to talk. Your throat is too dry and your temples pound like a war drum. It feels like you’ve collided with a truck. And yet her voice commanding you to sleep is the last thing you remember.

“I haven’t formally introduced myself. Though I’m sure your friend has told you about me.”

You blink to make your vision focus yet it’s hopeless. She is but a dark blur to you –am I hallucinating or are those wings?

“My name is Miranda.”

Suddenly, that name snaps everything into focus so sharply you could get whiplash. You’re on your knees the next second, just about ready to leap at her. She’s the one. The one Chris warned you about. She may look like an angel but she is a devil.

“I don’t care who the hell you are! What do you want from me?!” you demand.

“Your cooperation in my experiments, for starters.” she says it calmly, but she is no fool to believe you’ll just agree to that, you can see it in her crystal-blue eyes.

“Ha! As if!” you retort.

“Well. That answer will change when I have Rose.” The name of your daughter makes every nerve ending in your body kick at once.

“What. Like Ethan will just hand her over to the likes of you?”

“Actually.”

A slow smirk crosses her full lips. Then their shape changes to match yours. All of her does, until you are left looking at a perfect mirror of yourself. Only, there’s no way you look quite that good inside of this shitty cell.

“He’ll hand her over to you.”

When she laughs, it is your own voice haunting your ears.

-

-

She has your daughter. She has your everything in her hands. So, she has your cooperation, as well.

Miranda doesn’t really talk when she comes to collect blood samples for whatever experiments she needs them. Your initial cries and questions were muted the second she told you the more helpful and less annoying you are, the more inclined she’ll feel to bring Rose to you for a while.

In the end, you do let yourself be her docile little lab rat.

Until you literally can’t take the silence anymore.

“Was it really… that easy?” ‘To enter my home and take my daughter’ you want to add but you can’t even get the words past your throat.

She seems to understand, though. “Effortless.” she isn’t being cocky as she says it. In fact, she seems almost surprised herself. At least, from the angle you get of her face, while she’s studying a strange rock-like substance under a microscope.

“How the hell did Ethan not figure out you aren’t me?!” That moron. He just gave your daughter to her. That clueless moron!

For a split second, you see her lip twitch in what could, perhaps, be a withheld smile. “I was there for a day, so. Seems like your husband doesn’t know you quite that well.”

Is it really fair to blame him for not knowing you, though? With the secrets you’ve kept from him? The distance? The trauma from the shared nightmare you experienced coming back to you every time you even looked at him?

God, Rose really is the only thing that kept you together, isn’t she…

It’s easy to hate the accursedly beautiful bitch outside your cell. It’s easy to blame Ethan for not even suspecting something was amiss with you for a whole damn day.

It is not so easy to blame yourself as much as you do them.

-

-

Miranda replies when you ask her things, so you ask her about herself. To your surprise, she does not shroud her motives from you.

She has lost her daughter, she tells you, and the only way to get her back is through yours. For the first time since you met her, you see emotion clearly expressed in her eyes and voice. You recognize how she longs to be with her child again.

You can understand the never-ending grief of a mother losing her offspring. You know if anything happened to Rose you would rather fling yourself off a cliff than live a life without her.

And apparently, that is what she tried to do, too. She tried to die –and discovered life instead. That is what she calls it, anyway. All you can hear as she explains is that she found –and founded— the Mold. The same one that ruined your husband and you.

One more reason to hate the psycho witch.

And yet.

When you try to reach for the rage you previously held for her, you find that it’s gone. You’re bitter, you’re exhausted, you want to cry and above everything you want to see Rose again. But you don’t loathe her as you should.

“What do you mean… the only way to get Eva back is through Rose?” you dare ask after several minutes of silence.

She turns to look at you, eyes as piercing as they are blue. “Technically, the trade is simple.” Maybe you’re losing it from the stress and lack of sleep, but you think she almost hesitates for a second. “…a life for a life.”

As soon as she speaks and the meaning of her words registers in your mind, you’re gripping at the rusty iron bars with all your might, rattling them, shouting profanities at her. You are back to hating her all over again. It’s much simpler this way.

Until… she walks over and grabs your hand over the metal. Her touch is oddly warm for such a glacial heart. You cannot tell what she does to you, but it feels like an aura flowing through your system that silences you. Calms you. You do not want to be calm.

“I wasn’t finished.” she speaks. “That is where the experiments with you come in. By running tests on your blood and Rose’s and using my DNA as a medium, during the ritual I can trick the Megamycete into giving me what I want through a form of mitosis. Essentially, cell duplication that will not override the existing vessel.”

To be honest… you lost her midway through the very first sentence. You were quite good with biology back in the day but right now, in the state you’re in, science is going right over your head.

“...Is there an English version of that.” you ask.

Her mouth curves into that almost-smile again. It would be quite gorgeous, actually, if she hadn’t kidnapped you, infiltrated your home as you and abducted your daughter.

“If the tests succeed, you get your daughter back, I get mine from cloned DNA and Mold cells.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice as she says it.

And now, assuming she’s telling the truth, you want those tests to succeed more than you want to get out of here. Her hand leaves yours and the weird calm she blasted into you dissipates with it.

“Wait. So…” Realization strikes you like a thunderclap. “So these tests are for me?”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you, you crazy b—blonde.” You rattle the iron bars again, a tad weaker than before. She does smirk over the microscope, this time. “How likely are the tests to succeed?” you ask impatiently.

“Quite.” she replies, flat once again.

“…And if they don’t?” you hate how your voice shakes there, at the end.

She looks at you, dead in the eyes, as she answers: “I am getting my daughter back either way, Mia.”

You can’t believe it. You cannot believe you’re thinking this, but you hope the crazy bitch knows what she’s doing.

-

-

Miranda is… despicable, but she is a woman of her word.

She brings you Rose for hours at a time and in exchange you help her outside of your cell. You thought your daughter would be in a worse condition, considering who keeps her, yet she’s healthy as ever, well-fed and clean. The worst part is, she laughs every time Miranda comes close and she even reaches out for her.

“No, my darling, don’t do that.” you tell her, tucking her tighter in your arms, before the woman behind you notices what’s happening.

Except it’s too late. “Ah, I see.” Miranda speaks, coming up to you from behind. She’s tall enough to lean over your shoulder and wave at Rose, who moves both hands towards her. “A lady of taste.” the woman praises and the lightness to her voice almost makes her sound like someone else. Someone normal.

“Stop it.” You turn your child away from her. “She’s just confused because you’re lit up like a Christmas tree.” You motion with your chin at her getup.

Miranda chuckles. “What. She senses our bond. Rose feels safe with me.”

Safe with the monster who wants to sacrifice her to get her own child back. You cannot swallow that thought down. “But she’s not, is she?!” you snap.

“She is.” Miranda reverts to her cool facade, glancing down at your daughter. “I will never let anything hurt her. And when she gives me Eva back, I will make sure she grows up bathed in luxury.”

It’s the Mold, you’re sure of it.

It’s the Mold’s fault that you believe her.

-

-

You were supposed to see Rose today. Instead, Miranda comes into the cave alone, looking irritated. You start to worry. Nothing phases her without a good reason. What if—

“Where’s my daughter?!” you demand, eyes wide.

“We have a problem.” she tells you. Your blood goes cold in your veins. “A problem named Ethan Winters.”

“Ethan?” you gasp.

“He is trying to get Rose back and according to reports from the Lords under me, he cannot be killed. His hand got cut off and he just reattached it. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” she’s certain that you know. You can see it in her steely eyes.

“I— why would I—”

“Before you think to lie to me, hear something else. I bear good news, as well.” Miranda says. “I have succeeded in my experiments. During the ritual, I can guarantee Rose will remain unharmed and unchanged.” the edge of her lip curls up as she delivers the news. You almost cry from the sheer relief.

You almost leap forward and hug her, yet you remember who she is and that she caused this mess in the first place.

“But my conditions have changed.” her voice is a sword that cuts off your happiness just like that. You knew it was too good to be true. “For me to save Rose, you will tell me how to permanently get rid of Ethan Winters.”

…What?

She wants you to… trade your daughter for your husband? How the hell can I do that?!

“He has ruined too much for me to let him walk away happily now.” Her jaw is tight enough to sprout new lines on her flawless face. She wants him dead and she always gets what she wants. “He has killed colleagues of mine. Spat in the face of a damn-near god. I will have his head.”

The corners of your eyes sting with welling tears. Your body is far more honest than you in making a decision. Nobody is too important to sacrifice when it comes to your daughter. Not yourself. Not Ethan. And Miranda knows this better than anybody else. You loathe how she knows.

“Give him to me, Mia. And in a few days this whole thing will be over.” she continues in a significantly softer tone, getting closer to you. Her wings shift, the very edge of black feathers brushing your arms.

“You want me to aid in killing the father of my child?!” you sob, grabbing at her clothes. You’d expect her to shove you away, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink.

“You have been so cooperative and so brave.” she soothes, gold-taloned fingers coming underneath your chin. “Make one last sacrifice for me. Help me murder Ethan so Rose can live. Help me and I vow to be her eternal guardian angel. Hers and yours.”

She could just force the answer out of you. She’s touching you and you know she has that power. But she doesn’t do it and it’s far worse this way. She wants it to be your choice.

You look away from Miranda’s icy eyes and her promises of everything.

And you tell her.

-

-

You do not ask about Ethan. All that’s in your mind is the ceremony.

For the entire morning, you cannot breathe. You trace notes in her lab and pace around until you literally feel like you’ll explode—

And then Miranda comes in. She is radiant, smiling from ear to ear, glowing with pure joy. She looks every part the goddess she pretends to be. The golden circle usually adorning her back is gone, her long blonde hair is left free to flow like fine strands of silk past her square shoulders.

“It is done!” she tells you, a hand extended for you to take. “Come. I’ll take you to Rose and you will be the first to meet Eva.”

Her hand is warm when it closes around yours. Black wings shroud you both. There is a gravitational pull around you that’s so intense you shut your eyes and grab onto her biceps for dear life.

“You can look, now.” she speaks once the world is stable again. Your gut is churning, yet every bit of exhaustion and discomfort vanish the second you see Rose. She is safe within the first of the two golden cribs in front of you, bathed by the soft sunlight that disperses across the luxurious, dark-tiled chamber you’re in.

You run towards her, lifting your daughter in your arms and kissing her forehead over and over. She laughs at you, blue eyes crinkled. My love. My everything, you think. Everything was worth it for this moment. And you would do it all again, to ensure her safety.

Miranda’s steps, regal and authoritative, come to a stop near the other crib. You lean closer, take a look… to see another little angel there, sleeping peacefully. She resembles Rose, yet she resembles Miranda, too.

“Oh my God.” you breathe. “You really did it.”

“I did it and you and Rose made it possible, Mia.” she says. Your child extends a tiny hand towards her. She removes one of her claws and lets her finger be taken in your baby’s grip. “You don’t have to leave. She loves me already.” A proud smile curves her lips.

You hate how it looks like a sunrise.

You hate it even more that you understand why Rose is so charmed.

“Her mom can grow to love me, too.” Crystal eyes look into your own. “There is no place safer than by my side. Stay and we will raise them together. You won’t have to fear disease or death with me. You and Rose will have every little thing you could ever want. Forever.”

You don’t want your child to be co-patented by this selfish megalomaniac, who is the killer of her father. But. Then you stop to consider what you have been through until now. Nightmare after nightmare; this vicious cycle does not look like it will be broken. One thing or another will haunt you and hunt you wherever you go. You don’t want that life for Rose.

You won’t accept that life for Rose.

“…we will stay. But you can forget that part about me growing any fonder of you than I am now.”

Miranda nods, but something in her expression is so damn cocky you want to smack her. “Oh, what’s that, Rose? You can tell your mother is lying, too? My genius girl.”

Your jaw drops. She is my genius girl!

Miranda then touches your chin and tilts it up. You don’t want to be any closer to the gorgeous fucking witch, but when she stops there, hovering just over your mouth for a skipped heartbeat, looking down at you with those crystalline eyes of hers, you’re paralyzed.

Her lips slide over your own for just one slick, hot second. When she pulls back, she caresses Rose’s cheek and winks at you.

“I hate you.” you say, yet it holds no real bite. God, you’re exhausted.

“That’s alright. We have all the time in the world to change that.”