#except it was also exactly the right amount of time

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

🎄 Hallmark Christmas Movie AU Part 3 🎄

(part 1) ❄️(part 2)

At this point in the script, we need Simon/his family/the town to face some kind of problem that Wille can help solve in a way that doesn’t rely on his royal status, lets him spend more time with Simon and helps him understand what he’s really passionate about. So what I’m thinking is that Simon’s school or maybe the town community centre is putting on a Christmas play. Actually it’s probably a musical so Simon is very involved. It’s an annual thing that the town is completely obsessed with. It’s not Christmas without it, basically. But now there’s a problem: the beautiful hand-painted scenery flats they always use got damaged somehow (Hallmark Force Majeure) and they’re unusable. Everyone is devastated; the flats are a classic and everybody loves them. They can do the play without them but it just won’t be the same. Nobody is available to paint new ones at such short notice. Except a certain prince who is there on holiday so he has nothing to do besides make eyes at his crush and who took up painting some years ago as a way to calm his anxiety.

So Wille offers to repaint the flats. Mostly he wants to impress Simon and spend more time with him, but he also really likes the thought of being actually useful. I don’t know how long it would take in real life but in fantasy world it takes exactly the amount of time they have. Simon keeps him company whenever he can and enjoys watching him paint and the cute little frown he has on his face when he’s concentrating. They talk and joke and flirt and get to know each other better. Wille thinks that he should probably be trying to protect his heart because he knows that this can never be anything more than a little holiday romance – someone as wonderful as Simon doesn’t belong in his dreary life. But he knows that it’s a lost cause. He’s falling hard and fast and there’s no stopping it, so he decides to just enjoy it while he can.

As Wille paints, at first he’s trying to copy the old flats based on photos, but then he gets ideas for changes and improvements. He doesn’t think he should do that, though; it’s a tradition and he shouldn’t break it. But Simon encourages him to be creative and just do what he feels is right, and Wille finds that he’s really enjoying the process. (See, it’s a metaphor! We are not in a subtle genre.)

And you can guess what happens. At some point Wille gets some paint on his face and Simon tries to wipe it off. They were laughing about something just a second ago but suddenly they’re not. Simon’s thumb brushes over Wille’s cheekbone, smearing the paint. Wille’s nose nudges Simon’s, and their lips finally meet in a kiss that’s been days in the making. It’s soft and brief. They break apart to check in with each other, grin, and the next thing Wille knows is he’s dropping the paint brush and pulling Simon closer, closer, closer.

Simon ends up with paint on the back of his shirt and in his hair, but he doesn’t mind.

[tender-rosiey]

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[mi55delulu]

movie goers

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

synopsis: starting off on the wrong foot with your new neighbor was not on the top of your bucket list, yet you’ve made an enemy of jeon jungkook in less than 24 hours. unlucky for you, he’s not backing down either.

genre: enemies to friends to lovers (e2f2l)

wc: ~16.4k

cw: not so cute meet, slice of life, slight angst, fluff, mature language, mean jk and mean oc — they get better though, cheating (not main characters), fwb (not main characters), mutual pining, oc is lowkey a hopeless romantic, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🛑, smut, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, love love love. if i got any rules/regulations wrong, i didnt. leave me alone, it’s fanfic 😇✨also written in lowercase bc that’s just how my phone setting is and i’m too lazy to go back to capitalize … ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a/n: yuh … inspired by real life events. anyways, this is the first time i’ve posted a fic on this page. i’ve been an avid reader (still am) but i’ve been wanting to put something out too. so here’s my gift to close out 2024. also, i miss jk. I MISS BANGTAN. ;-; enjoy and lmk your thoughts!

—

if you had to describe your ideal neighbor in three words, it’d be: mindful, quiet, and kind. cause that’s what your neighbor, mrs. lee, was to you in the last three years you’ve lived in this apartment complex. she kept to herself, walked her small crusty (but cute) senior white dog, and brought you leftover cookies when she baked too much for her grandkids. you always had a feeling she made just the right amount with you in mind, but of course she’d never tell you.

so when she broke the news that she was going to move into her son’s home because they’ve been worried about her living alone, you were happy for her — happy that she’s going to get taken care of, but sad that you’ll be losing a great neighbor.

you tell her whoever moves in after her probably won’t be as good of a baker. she simply laughs and tells you to be nice.

three months pass and you hear footsteps outside your door one afternoon. when you try spying through your peephole to get a glimpse of the commotion, you see boxes stacked on the side of apt# 305.

finally, someone was moving in.

some of the boxes were spilling onto your welcome mat, but that didn’t really bother you. you were more curious about your new neighbor … er, perhaps neighbors. so any clue on whether it was going to be an individual or a family moving in would give you an idea of who you’ll be living next to.

unfortunately for you, all the boxes were neatly sealed off.

“dang it.” you mutter to yourself while squinting at the labels on the boxes. clothes, kitchen, shoes … workout? well, okay no indication of toys so you can safely assume there aren’t any kids … yet.

you look at your clock, it’s about time you head out to get your mail anyways. maybe you’ll bump into your new neighbor(s).

except, it wasn’t as easy to spot who exactly was going to be moving in with all the different movers. you sigh and sift through your mail as you walk up the stairs to your apartment. most of the boxes that were outside had already been moved inside the apartment by the time you returned from the mailroom.

as curious as you were of who your new neighbor could be, you had better things to do … like binge watch your kdramas before your shift starts. maybe if you’re feeling extra nice … you’ll say hi later. no one wants to start off on a bad foot with their neighbor. you fumble around your pockets for your keys and eventually hear your locks click open when you’ve successfully unlocked your door.

“hey, neighbor.”

you turn. now, in all your 28 glorious years of living, you can easily count the times you’ve been starstruck on one hand. seeing the northern lights by accident on your way home in 2024, meeting your favorite youtuber at a late night diner when you were 15 years old, and being noticed by one of the highest ranked players in maplestory’s world chat.

the person in front of you? a sight to behold. tall, killer smile, numerous piercings, and a forearm adorned in tattoos. yeah. you don’t think starstruck would fit for this occurrence, but what you do know is that they’ve gotten you tongue tied.

“welcome!” you blurt out and give a tight-lipped smile before barreling through your entryway. you don’t give yourself another second to study his expression once the door shuts behind you. were you lame to run away from your new neighbor? sure. will you regret this? well, the cringe is already seeping in. you’re probably branded as the weird girl now … whatever.

what’s done is done.

you don’t know if 305 is mindful, quiet, or kind.

but fuck, he’s hot.

—

305 was not quiet.

you know it’s a housewarming party with a couple of his friends. he didn’t have to tell you … you heard them loud and clear through the walls several times as they clinked their shot glasses for the 11th time that evening.

you’re texting your frustrations to dohwan, your boyfriend (?) er … someone you’ve been talking to (and fucking) these last 2 years. he hasn’t quite put a label on the relationship just yet and claimed that he is only seeing you. labels didn’t really matter to you but as time grew, you’ve come to like him a lot and wished for something more. he’s career-driven, great in bed, and knows how to whip up a good breakfast the morning after he stays for the night. he was supposed to come over tonight, but told you he got caught up with work. it’s times like these where you feel a level of uncertainty with dohwan. you spiral and don’t feel as secure as you want to be.

you shouldn’t feel hurt or disappointed … but you do, because hell, alright … maybe you didn’t just like him.

you love him.

you’re not embarrassed that you told him 9 months into seeing each other. has he said it back? no, but that’s okay! everyone has a different timeline when it comes to feelings. you could only hope he meets yours soon enough. why else would he stay for this long?

back to the situation at hand.

you’re not an irritable person, but the least 305 could’ve done was given you a heads up that he was going to have a celebration. you would’ve asked to stay over at dohwan’s in that case.

another round of laughter erupts through your walls and you grit your teeth in annoyance.

“fuckin’ hell,” you throw the covers off your body and march out of your apartment. you find yourself glaring at 305’s door — a juxtaposition from how you usually looked when mrs. lee used to reside here.

god, you missed her.

you knock on the door a few times, taking note how the chattering from the inside decreases and some footsteps grow close to the door.

again, you almost want to want to run back to your apartment when you’re face to face with 305’s handsome confused face.

realizing it’s you, 305 smiles, “oh, hey—“

“it’s nearly 12 a.m. do you mind?” you cut him off.

his smile drops and he leans one shoulder on his doorway.

“sorry,” he says, “we’ll wrap up soon.”

you’d usually drop something this trivial by now, but you’re in a foul mood. unfortunately for 305, this is will be his official first impression of you.

“how much longer is ‘soon?’ it’s been like this for 4 hours,” you really don’t mean for it to come out that way, but the damage is done.

little did you know, 305 wasn’t going to backdown either. he may be new to this complex, but he’s not privy to obnoxious neighbors. the only difference is that he thought you were going to be quiet and shy, much like the first meeting.

“don’t know.” he shrugs.

“i really don’t want to involve property management.” you cross your arms. it’s a half threat — you’ve never called because you never needed to … but you’ll flip through your 50 page rental agreement if you have to.

he mirrors your stance and looks out to your apartment’s door.

“well, sorry to burst your bubble, 307.” he says and you see red, “but management is aware of my get together. it’s not my fault they didn’t inform the other residents.”

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath.

he smiles again, a little less friendly and more condescending this time, “we’ll finish soon, 307. good night.” he shuts his door on you before you can formulate a sentence and you’re left outside in the dark.

—

“yo, jungkook … were we being too loud?” hoseok asks while popping a handful of m&m’s into his mouth.

“yeah, cause your laugh can be heard from all throughout korea,” jimin mocks, earning him a shove from hoseok.

“nah, don’t worry about it. just my neighbor saying hi.” jungkook plops down on the sofa with the rest of his friends.

“oh? should’ve invited them in. we have enough pizza to feed a village.” taehyung nudges his side.

jungkook laughs and shakes his head, “just scale down on the volume and we’ll be golden.”

jungkook loves good company, having lived with his friends for most of his college years, he was a bit reluctant to move out. it’s a little bittersweet, but all his friends are happy for him and his new journey in adulthood. he won’t have to deal with messy roommates and random guests … vice versa. as fun as it was to live in a house full of your best friends, at the end of the day, men will be men. gross, loud, and obnoxious.

not jungkook though, so he thinks.

“ha! called it,” jimin snorts, “you were being too loud, hyung.” this earns jimin a punch to the arm and hoseok’s booming laugh when jimin dramatically falls off the chair.

jungkook knew it was useless to request this of his friends, so he took it upon himself to give the property manager a heads up. lucky for him, the lady seemed more than happy to accommodate. she even left her business card with him after he signed the lease … something about calling her if there’s ever an issue with the apartment — any time of the day.

weird.

what’s weirder was his neighbor. from running away during the first meeting to demanding he end his housewarming on the spot. okay, to be fair, you didn’t, but you might as well have. it didn’t help that jungkook was hotheaded and gets a little irrational when something involved his friends.

so what if he thought you were pretty in your black pajama set? you called his friends loud, when in honesty, they could’ve been much worse. seriously. he knows jimin’s taunting held some truth. hoseok has been responsible for some noise complaints in the past. so this was considered manageable. plus, it’s not like he’ll be inviting them over every weekend.

but if it meant pissing you off, he might consider it.

alright, he wasn’t that cruel and he definitely doesn’t want to make living next to you unbearable. he’ll apologize first thing in the morning tomorrow, but for now, he just wants to enjoy his time with his best friends.

—

jungkook was going to murder you.

not literally, but he could if it wasn’t for the major hangover holding him back. he blinks twice, looks at the clock on his nightstand, reads 7:01am, and lets out a big sigh after another round of drilling vibrates against his wall.

fuckin’ hell.

it feels comical now that he’s in front of your apartment, face still swollen from sleep, but so visibly upset at being woken up at the ass crack of dawn.

“are you serious?” he asks, voice still laced with heavy sleep.

you, on the other hand, look put together and almost too happy this early in the day. jungkook can only rule you out as a psychopath — a pretty psychopath. your hair all in place, lashes kissing your cheeks when you smile at him, and not a single wrinkle on your clothing in sight.

“what’s up,” you peer outside your door just as he did last night, “305?”

he wants to let out a groan, but that’d give you too much power.

“drilling at 7 in the morning? that’s gotta be a violation.” his voice still laced with sleep, though, he’s sure to sound assertive.

“nope! here,” you smile and pull out your phone, the level of brightness makes jungkook squint, “county regulations allow work as early as 6:30am.”

“yeah, if there’s justification. there’s no reason for you to be drilling this early.” jungkook argues back.

you pout, evidently not sad at that revelation, “but my mental health. i was kept up all night by my neighbor and his friends … i need some wall decor to cheer me up. surely you could sympathize, right?”

you don’t allow him to formulate another thought as you’re shutting the door, “i’ll be done soon, have a good day!”

jungkook almost wants to laugh at how irritated he is, but all he can do now is try to get some shut eye before his shift starts. that is, if he can even go back to sleep.

should’ve asked his friends for some earplugs as a housewarming gift.

—

the drilling eventually came to a stop. only because you could not be bothered to wake up earlier than you had to and you think you made your point pretty clear to your neighbor — don’t fuck with me.

honestly, you’re not sure what came over you. you never liked causing issues for people and you’re also well liked by your work peers and friends, so this was out of character of you. it also didn’t help that your friends spurred you on and praised you for one upping him. as the rage dissipated from your system, you’ve come to the conclusion of why you acted out.

your new neighbor was a conventionally attractive man. he probably knows this too judging from the way he spoke to you — like you’d back down just because he said so. he probably was able to schmooze the lease manager into giving him a better rent deal and get pardoned for all the noise he made during his housewarming party. sucks for him; you’re not a fan of pretty privilege.

you had to set him straight, so drilling into a random piece of wood every morning right near his bedroom wall was the perfect revenge. you expected some backlash from him; surprisingly, he didn’t say a word to you after his first confrontation. so, you stopped the antics after the third day.

weeks later, you learned his name is jeon jungkook. not through a formal introduction … only because his mail got mixed in with yours and you tossed it onto his welcome mat. he eventually came to realize your name through the same way too.

though, he’ll always be 305 to you and you’ll always be 307 to him.

that’s fine.

you’ll scowl every time you see him and he’ll stick a middle finger up to you as well.

the feeling was mutual.

“so, are you still battling it out with your new neighbor?” dohwan asks one evening. his head was actually between your legs at the moment. you like having random conversations during sex, but talking about your annoying neighbor wasn’t on the top of your list.

“mm, yeah,” you moan lowly when he flicks his tongue on your clit. “well n-no, not anymore.” you correct yourself, “oh fuck, keep going.”

“good, i’m tired of hearing about him,” he chuckles against you and continues his ministrations between your folds. if you were caught off guard by his comment, you weren’t anymore. the pleasure coursing through your body is enough to make your head spin.

he moves away from your body once you’ve come by his mouth. without warning, he slips inside you and you hiss from the overstimulation, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“gonna fuck you so well.”he’s thrusting relentlessly, “it’s what you need, huh princess?”

you nod, too overcome by the power of his thrusts hitting all the right spots. dohwan is a little more vocal tonight — it makes you feel special but you’re also a little self conscious about your nextdoor neighbor hearing things. you’ve always kept it down even when mrs. lee lived next door, jungkook would be no exception.

people fuck, it doesn’t mean you can’t be courteous. you sure as hell don’t want to hear your neighbor fucking given that you’ve seen him bring back several different girls to the apartment these couple of weeks.

one thing you’ll commend jungkook for is not being a loud fucker in the bed.

“baby,” you whine as he pauses a little to listen to what you have to say, “we should keep it down.”

he tilts his head, reaches in between your bodies and circles slowly on your clit with his thumb while he resumes rocking into you. you keen and almost let out a moan.

“why? let the asshole hear.” he grunts when he picks up the pace again. dohwan kisses down your neck and leaves a red hickey on your collarbone. you let out a pretty sigh and wrap your legs around his waist.

“y-you,” he moans particularly louder and it throws you off slightly, “saw the way he looked at me today, right?”

you didn’t, but you definitely saw the way dohwan glared at jungkook and tightened his hold on your waist before entering your apartment. meanwhile jungkook had just come back from his evening run — at least that’s what you assumed since he was wiping away his sweaty hair from his flushed face coming up the stairs.

“baby, are you really going to talk to me about another man while we’re fucking?” you laugh and cup his face in your hands. he huffs in frustration but his eyes soften, it’s opposite to the brutal pace he’s set on your pussy.

“sorry,” he continues fucking into you and the room is filled with wet noises and his panting once again. even though he apologized, he does nothing to lower his volume.

knock-knock. the sound definitely did not come from the frontdoor, it was far too close to hear.

another series of knocks come and you realize it’s your bedroom wall. dohwan pays no attention to those sounds and is far into chasing his own high, but you move your hands over his mouth to muffle his grunts.

jeon jungkook is knocking on your wall.

he knows you’re having sex and you’ve become that obnoxious neighbor. if that wasn’t enough of an instant mood killer, you hear him blasting one of akon’s featured hits “i just had sex” to mock you and dohwan.

yeah, sexy time is over. you push dohwan off you and head into the bathroom to nurse your embarrassment.

shortly that night, dohwan leaves and it’s the first time you’ve gotten into an argument with him where you think he’s in the wrong.

—

people find it daunting to go to the movies alone. you’d agree until you were forced to go alone after no one wanted to go watch twilight with you in high school. it was awkward at first, but once the light dimmed and the movie started, no one cared about their surroundings.

that’s why you liked going alone. no one will pay attention to how alone you were. everyone in there will be focused on the big screen in front — you included. there was always something liberating about doing things alone too. ‘like yeah, stick it … i don’t need anyone.’ kind of energy.

the only thing you wished was to have someone to discourse with after the movie ended. it’s not a dealbreaker though. you could have easily asked dohwan to come with you, but you’ve been ignoring him since last week after the loud sex fiasco.

regardless, you’re watching moana 2 today. you’re sure it’s going to be a full house given that it’s the opening week. you can only pray that you won’t be surrounded by snotty (literally) kids. nonetheless, you’re excited and the theater was getting filled up as more movie goers come in during the preview. your row was nearly full, saved for the single empty seats on your left and right side.

score, no seat partners or snotty kids. you’ve won this time around.

you’re texting your friends and telling them your luck—

“ahem.”

you look up and you see two people standing in front of you. you’re sure it’s for the seats on your left and right side cause you double checked your ticket before sitting down and everyone else in your row has been seated for quite some time.

“can you move?” one person asks. weirdly enough, the voice is familiar.

even though the lights are low in the theater, you can see that it’s a man and a woman. and when you squint a little more at their figure, that’s when something catches your eyes. a tiger lily tattoo, the same one that your neighbor has.

no fucking way.

“hello?? can you move?” he asks again a little more aggressively. there’s no way he can’t recognize it’s you being that the movie screen is bright enough to shine a light on you. doesn’t matter. you weren’t going to move before and you definitely aren’t going to move now. hell, you’ve been asked plenty of times to move by both families and couples in the past — the difference was that they asked nicely. some were generous enough to offer you snacks when you did move for them.

jungkook? nah. no thank you. you’ll stay right where you are.

“nope.” you hold out your ticket to show your seat number and refocus back on the previews playing.

the girl behind him grabs his arm and gently asks him what seat numbers he got.

“k11 and 13.” he mumbles.

yeah, cause you had bought k12.

“oh, um, it’s okay! we wouldn’t even be talking during the movies anyways,” she reassures with a kind smile. “let’s sit so that we’re not blocking anyone?”

jungkook gives her a tight lipped smile and plops down on k11 while the girl takes k13.

“you’re fucking annoying for that.” he says only loud enough for you to hear. he’s angrily eating his popcorn and it makes you want to laugh mockingly. he’s dressed in all black with a silver chain dangling loosely around his neck. his hair is neatly styled and he smells nice. perfect for a first date … minus you being the factor to ruin it.

“i’m not the one that booked shit last minute. do better.” you shrug.

the previews are still playing and you look over at the girl. she’s so pretty and probably too sweet for jungkook’s good based on how she handled the seating situation.

you feel a little guilty, but that feeling leaves you the moment jungkook hands over the popcorn to the girl, spilling a couple on your lap. you glare, he smirks, and the girl unknowingly takes the bucket from him.

well, two can play that game.

“your nails are so cute, where’d you get them done?” you ask.

she beams and shows you her set, “a little shop called banger nails down myeong-dong! they’re great.”

“oh, your nails are so pretty though. where do you get it done?”

truth be told, you haven’t had your nails filled in over 3 weeks … you know they look rough, but you assume she’s just trying to maintain a conversation being that her actual date was a seat away.

you tell her your shop and she tells you she’ll definitely try out that location when she has the chance. she offers you some popcorn and you unashamedly take some, making sure jungkook sees.

he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, but makes no move to turn to your direction.

“oh, how rude of me. what’s your name?” you reach out to shake her hands.

“nayeon,” she answers and takes your hand in hers, “you?”

you tell her your name and she nods with a sweet smile. yeah, she’s definitely too good for jungkook.

the movie starts and you’re whispering commentaries and giggling with nayeon. you both held hands during the intense scenes and teared up at the ending. it felt really nice to connect with someone like this right off the bat. she was kind and funny throughout the entirety of the movie too.

you can’t say the same for jungkook. he had his arms crossed with a deep frown stamped on his face for two whole hours.

when the movie credit rolls, jungkook stands up and holds out his hand to help nayeon up. huh, chivalry isn’t dead you suppose. nayeon stands up and waves at you.

“it was so nice meeting you! we should definitely hang out. here, let’s follow each other on instagram!” she fumbles through her purse for her phone and you notice how jungkook closes his eyes in frustration behind her.

you and nayeon exchange contacts and as you’re reclining your seat upright, you hear jungkook ask her, “would you wanna get some froyo? my treat for messing up on the tickets.”

“aw, it all worked out though! i met a new friend,” she gestures over to you. jungkook doesn’t really acknowledge nor claim he has already met you.

why would he?

“i’m glad,” he replies, “still though, i feel bad that we didn’t really hang out. still up for that sweet treat?”

nayeon nods and looks back at you, “would you like to join us?”

unbeknownst to nayeon, jungkook looks at you in desperation this time and shakes his head pleadingly. you think you’ve tortured him enough this evening and you don’t want to subject yourself to hanging out with jungkook. seeing the couple link hands in front of you, you’re sorta missing dohwan a little now … so you’ll reach out to him and see what he’s doing.

“no, it’s okay. you both should enjoy that sweet treat together. i’ll text you on instagram!” you wave and jungkook lets out a breath of relief.

“let’s go?” now, what shocks you is his soft smile towards nayeon. it’s almost a 180 to the attitude you’ve experienced with him. then again, maybe it takes a special kind of person to bring that side out of you. nayeon can definitely do that.

she waves at you again and this time jungkook also waves at you (begrudgingly) too. it’s not a goodbye, but a ‘see you later … unfortunately.’ type of wave.

—

you come back from dohwan’s place a little after midnight.

nothing special happened, just hung out like normally. he didn’t bring up the argument and you didn’t feel like talking about jungkook either. this was a regular occurrence in your relationship with him. fights were always difficult, but the mend was easy … cause you guys tend to just sweep the issue under the rug.

clean slate.

“jesus christ!” you jump at the sight of a tall dark figure when you reach the top of your floor. your hand flies to your chest to hold down your hammering heart.

“relax, 307. just me.” jungkook says.

“scared the shit out of me.” you murmur to yourself. you proceed to open your door just as jungkook gets his keys out too.

“fitting for a piece of shit like yourself.”

“excuse me?” you raise your brows in question.

“you heard me,” he steps back out from his door, “loud for no reason, fuck like you’re the only one in the complex, and don’t even have the decency to move a seat over. it’s no wonder the previous resident moved away.”

you really want to argue back, but he read you for filth. you really have been an asshole, still, the comment about mrs. lee hurt. you’re not what jungkook makes you to be, but you’ve given him every reason to perceive you in this manner.

“look, i’ll apologize—“

“nah, save it. i’m tired of being nice too. have the night you deserve.” with that, he goes into his apartment and you’re left contemplating how you let things get this bad and awkward with your new neighbor.

there’s no point in trying to talk to your neighbor now. it’s late. you’ll process everything first and try talking to him tomorrow.

—

the talk never happened.

because for the next 27 days, you’ve been woken up by a blender at 5 a.m. you let that slide for the first 5 days thinking it was jungkook’s way of venting out his frustrations, but by the end of the week, you were back on hating your neighbor.

today marks day 28. you’ve had a long day at work and dohwan has been dodgy with you this week. you call him during lunch to ask him why he’s been so distant and he immediately goes off on you saying that he feels suffocated and that he likes his space. it hurts. because you thought that when you really like someone, all you want to do is fill your day with them.

it’s the evening after your shift and you barely make it up the top of the stairs before you sit down and cry into your hands. it’s so fucking embarrassing crying over a man, especially for one that you really like. majority of the time, he really does make you feel like you’re on top of the world, but then take you down to the pits of hell.

highest of highs, lowest of lows.

it fucking hurts, but you also don’t want to be more alone than how you are.

you hear footsteps come closer and you immediately wipe away your tears and look to the other side of the railing. the person coming up doesn’t stop and walks up past you.

you know them. you know it’s him. you can tell by his cologne and the black converse he fancies.

when you think he’s far enough and in his apartment, you let yourself cry some more.

little did you know, jungkook stands at the top of the stairs, contemplating on whether he should talk to you. he thinks you’re crying because of the blender. or maybe you’re crying because you have to go home to a shitty neighbor. feels bad and guilty. hates to see women cry or anyone cry for that matter …

you hear footsteps from behind and sniffle into your hands.

“uh, 307?”

“what?” your tone is biting but that’s understandable. you’ve been under a lot of stress.

he sighs, sits down right next to you on one of the steps. his legs are long so his knees fan out a little to brush yours. you scoot away and look at him with your bloodshot eyes.

ah, shit. he feels even worse.

“i know i’ve been a dick to you from the start.” he begins.

you scoff and look away.

“you didn’t make things easy either, okay?” he rolls his eyes, “but if you’re crying about the blender …”

“oh for fuck’s sake! no, this isn’t about the blender, 305.” you huff.

“ah.” he opens his mouth and closes it to think what to say next, “lemme guess … boy trouble?”

“shut the fuck up.”

he does so this time for a few minutes until you start talking.

“look, i’ve been meaning to say this but i’m sorry for being an asshole to you. you’re new here and i gave you a bad impression of me. i don’t want to continue making this a hostile living situation for the both of us.” you meant every word you said and whether jungkook accepts your apology, that’s for him to decide. at least you were the bigger person to apologize and take accountability.

“thanks. i’m sorry for being rude too. clean slate?” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. you look at his tattooed hand and a part of you feels relieved at the prospect of a resolution. you shake his hand in agreement. his hand was warm, a little calloused, but the hold was firm and promising.

“you’ll stop with the blender now?” you muse.

“aw man, i was getting used to the daily fresh green smoothies … but i think the blender is on its last leg. i’ll spare you for now and buy premade smoothies,” he grins and winks jokingly. his smile was friendly, similar to the one he gave to nayeon that one date. speaking of which, you’ll have to text her when you get home … she’ll definitely want to hear this update. you’ve been religiously in contact with her since the movie date and she’s been your person when it came to complaining about jungkook.

you and jungkook stare out at the sunset and breathe in the autumn air. it’s nice and just what you needed.

“hey, 307?” jungkook breaks the silence after a while and you hum in response, “for what it’s worth, he sounds like a dying gorilla when he fucks.”

it was the first time you laughed all day.

—

things have gone back to normal between you and dohwan surprisingly. he apologized to you the next day and said he acted out because work has been on him lately. you accepted his apology.

on top of that, you and jungkook are … getting along? he’s actually not that bad. he greets you every morning and makes small talk with you about the weather when you are both at the mailroom.

oh, and the blender at 5 a.m. have stopped completely. he does complain that he misses his green smoothie, to which you reply that he can still make it … just not when you’re still in deep sleep.

“no thanks, the prep is annoying.” he brushes it off.

so one morning after grocery shopping, you pick up a cup of green smoothie from your favorite shop and drop it off at his door before he’s back from his usual run.

‘drink up, 305. - your lovely, sweet, favorite neighbor 307 ♡’

to which, he dropped off a matcha pastry to you the next day after you mentioned how you’ve been craving it lately.

‘peace offering to the demon. ps. you’re my only neighbor LOL - 305’

needless to say, this started a ritual between you and him dropping off snacks and drinks to each other.

so yeah, things have been good.

tonight, dohwan is taking you out on a movie date to watch wicked. it’s not your first choice, but you love a classic so you’re open to see this modern-day remake. plus, he’s been extra sweet to you too.

you’re standing near the ticketing area waiting for dohwan to get snacks when you suddenly hear, “307?”

you turn your head and it’s jungkook with a girl you’ve never met before. he waves and asks what you’re watching.

you point at a nearby wicked movie poster and he nods.

“we’re seeing the same movie too. sorry, forgot to introduce you both — this is jinah,” he gestures at the girl next to him and she nods at you in acknowledgment, “and this is my neighbor.”

“ohhh the one that drilled for a week?” she marvels at you and you flush at her question.

“three days,” he corrects, “but felt like an eternity.” jungkook looks back at you like it’s an inside joke and you feel warm under his gaze.

“he’s exaggerating. eternity is waking up to a blender for almost a month.” you fire back casually and it earns a laugh from everyone.

“well, you’re here with someone this time right?” he teases since he notices your makeup is done extra nice tonight and you have on a shorter beige skirt that cuts right at the top of your thighs. you looked beautiful whether or not this was for an actual date.

anyways, it’s all said in pure jest and he knows you take no offense in it when you laugh. knows he can joke around with you now — you’ve both established a good rapport.

“mhm. you bought tickets right next to each other this time?” you retort and he snorts at your question.

jungkook stares off from a distance and his gaze changes. he takes hold of jinah’s hand in front of you.

“i’ll catch you later, 307. enjoy the movie, ‘kay?”

“oh, okay,” you stare at jungkook in confusion, “it was nice meeting you, jinah. hope you both enjoy the movie.”

they both turn and head to the the concessions first and you’re back waiting alone again, but not for long.

a hand touches your lower back and you know it belonged to dohwan.

“ready?” he hands over your drink and you both head to the screening auditorium.

there’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you push it away once you’ve found your seats.

—

jungkook feels sick.

he’s seated behind you and dohwan. that was fine — wasn’t the problem.

the issue was seeing him be overly affectionate to you once he took notice of jungkook outside the auditorium. he doesn’t want to assume, but that’s the energy he gets from dohwan. it’s too much. though perhaps that’s how he usually was to you — he should be doting to you as someone you’re romantically involved with.

jungkook has a bad feeling about him.

jungkook has been on multiple dates this year, nothing ever leading to more because there wasn’t a spark beyond physical attraction. he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or hurt someone in the process if he were to continue something he sees no future with. which brings him to wonder why you still entertain that man when he clearly comes and goes as he pleases.

the sex can’t be that good … based on what jungkook was forced to hear that one evening. plus, he made you cry. that man can’t be good.

well, what does he know about relationships? he’s the “serial dater” while you’ve been with the same person. obviously jungkook is doing something wrong. maybe jungkook was just projecting.

he lets out a sigh when dohwan slips his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

“you good?” jinah whispers.

“yeah, sorry. didn’t realize how long the movie was. ass is starting to go numb,” he smiles apologetically.

she nods and refocuses back to the big screen. jinah was nice, but a little too uptight for his liking … she would stare back blankly at him when he tells a joke and it makes him question his own humor. he’s sure he’s a funny guy — you always seemed to laugh at his remarks.

shit.

why was he thinking about his neighbor when he’s on a date with another person?

he shakes away those thoughts and zones in on the movie. just a couple more hours till he can go home and relax. a bitter part of him hopes he doesn’t have to see you and dohwan enter your place together tonight.

—

you and jungkook have this thing where you go on walks and get your mail at the same time on fridays. that’s the day you work from home and he’s off.

you never liked walks but jungkook called you out one day for walking extra stiff up the stairs. you can’t help it … sitting for long hours at a desk job wasn’t ideal for your body, but it got the bills paid. by the end of your shifts, you’re too burnt out to do anything. you’re not like him who goes on routine runs at the ass crack of dawn. not everyone was fortunate to have a … wait, you’re not sure what he really did for work.

“305.” you deadpan, trying to maintain your big steps to match his long strides.

“hm?” he takes notice of your walking form and slows down his pace so that you can catch up. his dimples are on full display when he looks at you and it nearly makes you forget what you were going to ask him.

“what do you do for work?”

“what’s it to you, 307?” his brows raise in question and he chuckles when you scowl.

“just wondering. you seem to have a good work-life balance.” you shrug. he has to be making some form of income to afford the cost of living in this part of the city, so if it’s not an office job like yours, you’re curious what his line of work could be in.

“currently a tattoo apprentice, but i do art commissions on the side.”

“oh?” it makes sense. he had this artistic aura to him … tattoo apprentice also made sense too with his sleeve of tattoos. you wonder how many of those he designed himself.

“that’s very cool,” you mean it. you wish you could draw but your art skills could only rival a preschooler at best.

“yeah?” he scratches his behind his head, a habit you’ve noticed he does when he gets a little shy or flustered. “parents were super against it up until they saw what i made on my first commission.”

“it’s always like that with parents, huh? if you’re not a doctor or lawyer, nothing is ever enough for them,” you shake your head. it’s a small revelation, but jungkook feels the weight of your words. he can relate.

“you like what you do?” he tries to change the topic.

“it’s okay, gets the bills paid but honestly i’m developing a shrimp back from sitting at the desk all day.” you confess.

“good thing we’re going on these walks, miss hunchback.” he quips and nudges your arm with his elbow.

you stick your tongue out at him and his smile widens. jungkook takes out his phone and shows you some of the tattoos he’s assisted with on some clients these past months. you zoom in and stare in awe — the line work and colors were beyond beautiful and clean.

“they’re amazing, jungkook.”

his nose crinkles when he smiles at your compliment and cheeks flush at the usage of his real name.

“whenever you’re free, you can come over to check out my commissions.” he offers.

“yeah? you promise this isn’t some secret invitation to get murdered?” you smile cheekily at him and he playfully rolls his eyes.

“no promises,” he says and grins when you dramatically stop in your tracks.

“come on, 307. your lunch break is almost over and i gotta get my mail.”

—

you and jungkook return from the mailroom with stacks of envelopes and coupon advertising from random companies.

he’s behind you looking through his stack. among his many bad habits, one is not having the patience to open his mail in the comforts of his own home. typically by the time you both get to your respective doors, he already has the majority of his envelopes torn open.

men.

you stick your key into your door and hear jungkook gasp.

“shit!” he lets out a string of curses and you glance over where he’s at in front of his door … absolutely decked out in glitter.

“what the hell is this?” he’s dusting himself off, but that only serves to worsen the damage.

all the lights in your head go off. fuck. you had forgotten about the glitter prank order you made during the time jungkook was being a little shit with his blender. you totally forgot to call the company to cancel it …

you feel bad, but you can’t help but let out a series of giggles.

“oh my … jungkook, i’m so sorry,” you say in between your fits of laughter.

he looks at you in confusion but it doesn’t take long for him to piece things together. he tips his head back and looks at you incredulously.

“you did this? 307 … this is too much. how the fuck am i gonna get rid of all this glitter?” he opens his arms out and it makes you laugh even more to see him in this state.

“‘m sorry, i …” you try to catch your breath, “forgot to cancel the request and you were being such a dickhead that time.”

“i fuckin’ look like edward cullen.” he groans, looking at you with a serious expression and that has you doubling over.

he eventually joins you in your laughter, hands clutching his stomach.

“h-here,” you say in between tears, “i’ll help you.”

you dust off some flecks of glitter on his shoulders and reach up to smear it over his cheeks. this has got to be the highlight of your week.

jungkook pulls away and laughs at your antics.

“you think this is funny, huh?” he opens his arms again and you nod while stifling away your giggles, but your demeanor changes when he smirks deviously.

his arms circle around you and presses your face into his hard chest. jungkook is cackling just as hard as you are. he’s rubbing his body on your frame and you’ve accepted your fate cause you’re no match for his strength. you’re both even now. all glittered up, laughing, and having so much fun with this “misfortune.”

you won’t admit you’re enjoying his embrace. you won’t admit you fancy his cologne and aftershave. you won’t admit how you feel so soft against the hard ridges of his torso.

you definitely won’t admit how starstruck you got when he finally lets up and stares at you cheekily, unknowing of his doings and how pretty the glitter flecks frame his cheekbones and nose bridge.

he really was perfection.

little did you know, jungkook was also completely enamored by the way your eyes sparkle despite the crazy amount of glitter now stuck on your face and body.

did time freeze? no one has said a word but you can hear and feel your hearts pounding against each other in this close proximity.

“what the fuck?” a voice pulls both you and jungkook out from that dream-like state.

you look and it’s dohwan. confusion and anger is etched and evident on his face. he’s holding a bag of takeout, for what you assume was going to be your lunch. he stalks over and grabs your wrist and yanks you away from jungkook.

“hey man, it’s not what it looks like.” jungkook says. jungkook’s expression is neutral with a hint of annoyance in his tone. dohwan pays no attention to him and looks at you instead.

“are you cheating on me?”

“the hell, dohwan?” you stare back in shock at his accusation.

realizing how awkward this situation was, you start pulling dohwan towards your apartment. you quickly turn to jungkook where he was still standing, he looks concerned for you, “sorry, jungkook. uh, i’ll catch you later.”

he nods and moves around you and dohwan to get to his apartment door.

when you and dohwan are finally in the privacy of your home, you turn and he’s setting down the takeout on your coffee table. you can tell he’s still upset because he makes no move to sit down — he leans against your wall with his arms crossed.

“well?”

“well, what? it really wasn’t what it looked like, dohwan.” you roll your eyes, making your way to your sink to wash off the glitter on your skin. glitter was a bitch to get rid of, but you’ll do just about anything to distract you of dohwan’s awful attitude. you have about 10 minutes till you have to get back to work and don’t have the time to be arguing.

“don’t fucking lie. you’re always raving about how nice he is to you now. and i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that’s not some ‘friendly neighbor’ shit,” dohwan raises his voice in frustration.

you toss the kitchen rag onto your counter and turn, “what’s so wrong about me talking about how someone is nice to me?! at least you know about the people in my life, but i don’t know jack-shit about yours. i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you need to check yourself.”

“don’t try to spin this on me. whatever is going on with you and your neighbor, needs to stop.”

“literally nothing is happening between us??” you run your hand over your face, “i can pick and choose who stays in my life, dohwan. you can’t control that.” you try to level your breathing. you hated feeling like your partner laid claim on you as if you were some sort of property and had ownership.

don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.

his eyes soften after realizing what he implied and he comes closer to you. he rubs your forearms and pulls you in for a hug. you let the tears fall now.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just … i was insecure.” he confesses.

you sniffle into his chest, “why?”

he chuckles, “my girl hanging around a good looking dude? who wouldn’t be insecure?”

his girl.

“wasn’t aware i was your girlfriend.” you pull away from his warmth and regret seeing the glitter you’ve transferred onto his clothing in the process.

“well … i mean, you’re technically not. who needs labels?” he brushes you off and sits on the couch now. you’re left standing there, another wave of uncertainty washes over you. 5 minutes till you need to start working … do you really want to open the can of worms right now?

fuck it.

“i don’t know. people who love each other?”

he snorts then rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re back in serious mode.

“here we go again. we’ve been through this plenty of times—“

“do you even like me?”

“yes, of course.” he answers quickly.

“do you love me?”

he’s silent.

“then what are we doing, dohwan?” the real question was … what were you doing? it’s hitting year three of this situationship and nothing more has progressed.

“hey, hey … i thought you enjoyed spending time with each other … we agreed that it was just me and you,” he comes close to you again, but you hold a hand out to keep some distance.

“i need to get back to work. can you give me some space?” you mumble, “thanks for the food.”

—

the fallout between you and dohwan was anything but amicable.

you both boiled it all down to two things: you want more. he wants things to remain the same.

you requested for space and a break in the meantime while you figure things out. during that time, you felt yourself distancing from jungkook too. he tried to greet you like normally after dohwan’s confrontation, yet every time you see him, you make a beeline into your apartment.

guess old habits die hard.

you took this time to focus on you. you spoke to a therapist, got in contact with some girlfriends, visited your family, and busied yourself with work. self improvement, if one could call it. your therapist recommended to decentralize men in your life for a while so that you can focus on yourself. which meant no dohwan.

… and no jungkook.

you’ve been keeping nayeon posted on your life and she calls you out for being inconsiderate to jungkook. funny, because she was on your side when he was being rude to you and immediately ghosted him after the movie date (you still haven’t told jungkook you’ve been in contact with nayeon because things have gotten a little crazy). you promised to her you’ll talk to him soon though. he was just unfortunately caught in the crossfire of your messy relationship.

honestly? you missed your neighbor — your friend. but you needed to get your head sorted out and you’d be terrible company either way.

jungkook didn’t deserve that.

the break between you and dohwan meant that you don’t talk to each other till you figured things out.

breaks meant for a reset.

he kept texting you and telling you how much he missed you.

you had to keep reminding him of the boundaries.

he eventually obliged.

thinking you were finally ready to talk weeks later, you went over to his place after work, only to find him in shock, hair disheveled, red scratch marks all over his chest and shoulders.

“oh, um, i—“ you panic, feel your heart drop to your stomach when the realization settles in after you hear another voice call out his name from behind.

dohwan took that break and fell into bed with another woman.

“w-wait, let me explain,” he follows you out his door and nearly topples over you when you turned abruptly to face him.

you feel betrayed — so much for ‘me and you.’ the anger bubbling in your chest has a way of migrating through your body. you tremble, tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and your teeth dig hard on your bottom lip … you can taste metallic.

“we’re on a break,” he says as if you weren’t aware of the terms you originally initiated.

“okay? so that means you go and fuck someone else?” your voice is shaky but you push on, “you cheated.”

“no! i mean, fuck, what did you expect me to do? we stopped talking and it was fucking lonely … i— you can’t put all the blame on me,” he stammers.

so, it was your fault?

“i didn’t make you sleep with someone else. a-all—,” you choke on a sob, “all i asked was for some space and time. you couldn’t even give me that.”

the thing is, dohwan hasn’t given you anything beyond what he was willing to get from you. he liked your company, thought you were a sweet and funny girl, and god were you good in bed. he didn’t feel ready to settle down in a relationship … felt that being with someone officially took the spark out, but he also wasn’t willing to let you go.

so he held out for as long as he could. as a result, you did too in hopes that he could find it in himself to change his feelings for you.

love is patient, love is kind.

you’ve been patient, you’ve been kind. if this is love, why does it break you down?

maybe this love wasn’t for you; but rather, he isn’t for you no matter how long you wait and the number of pennies you’ve thrown into the wishing well.

“goodbye, dohwan.”

—

jungkook hates overly loud sex.

it’s the reason why he takes the extra precaution to put socks on his bed frames to muffle any potential noises. if his partner was a huge moaner, he’d do what any sensible person would … stuff his fingers into their mouth. what? the girl usually doesn’t mind and it minimizes the noises. plus, it was hot.

win-win.

sex didn’t have to be over the top to show that you’re passionate. jungkook knows that very well.

it’s also why he originally lost a lot of respect for you when he overheard you and dohwan having sex that one time. well, mainly dohwan.

fuckin’ gorilla.

jungkook has been worried for you ever since that awkward glitter situation. he wanted to apologize and even talk to dohwan if it’d make things less stressful on your end.

you’ve ghosted him for weeks. no more walks, small talk, snack trades, or trips to the mailroom.

he has a feeling it has something to do with dohwan.

just like how he knows the sobs emitting through his walls tonight has something to do with him.

jungkook hates overly loud sex, but more than that, he hates the sounds of your cries.

—

‘cheer up, 307. you deserve some sweetness in your day. ps. i’m gonna make you run if you keep missing our walks. also? stop avoiding me, it’s annoying - jk’

you smile and sip the banana milk jungkook left outside your door.

he always had a way with cheering you up despite being a headache for some time in your life. your therapist recommended to decentralize men from your life for a while … sure, jungkook fits in that category, but he’s also your friend.

you slowly let him back in.

he’s been good to you. though, you can’t say the same for yourself. you’ve been a shitty neighbor and a shitty friend.

yet jungkook shrugs it off and treats you normally.

you’ve been mending a broken heart and jungkook has been a great company meanwhile.

“you really need to work on your conflict avoidance, 307.” jungkook says one evening. he’s sprawled out on your couch with a bag of chips in his hands. it’s movie night — a tradition he forced upon you because you’ve apparently never watched the movie trolls.

you peel your eyes from the screen and tilt your head, “what do you mean?”

“any time something gets tough, you run away. gotta stop that, say what’s on your mind and work it out.”

“hm.”

“what?” he presses.

“nothing.”

“see? you’re doing it again. just say what you wanna say,” jungkook rolls his eyes.

“fine,” you chew on your bottom lip, “i hate this movie.”

jungkook had picked trolls 2 and it was so much more awful in comparison to the first one you were forced to watch last weekend.

“fuckin knew it. you’ve been spacing out all night,” he laughs, “see, doesn’t it feel good to be honest bout your feelings?” he reaches for your remote to switch to another movie. you watch him. really take him in and almost want to laugh at how horrible your first couple of months was with him and now he’s in your apartment watching awful movies with you to nurse your brokenheart.

you really had read jungkook wrong. he wasn’t just some conventionally attractive man that used his pretty privilege to get his way. he was genuinely a good person.

which makes you think … why the fuck is he hanging around someone like you on a friday night? he could be hanging out with some friends or going on a blind date with a pretty girl. better yet, why isn’t he in a relationship with someone?

was he just like you?

his voice brings you out of your thoughts, “alright, spill it 307. you look like you have something else to say.”

you sigh.

“how are you still single? just … i know you’re always dating different people. it can’t be that bad for you right? i mean, if you’re struggling … i feel kind of hopeless for myself.”

jungkook looks at you, dimples on display as he contemplates on what he wants to say next. the thing about jungkook is that he looks like he belongs in your circle — fits perfectly, actually. has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable about asking hard questions. he may tease you, but he’ll never judge you.

he ruffles your hair.

“just haven’t found the right one. it takes time and i’m in no rush. you shouldn’t either.” you feel yourself soften from his remarks until, “or else you’ll end up with a gorilla again.”

—

jungkook is treading in dangerous territories.

aside from trying to potty train his new doberman puppy, bam, he’s faced with another issue.

he may have developed a small crush on his neighbor. he can’t pinpoint exactly when he started getting that fuzzy warm feeling around you. it was a telltale sign when he’d wake up and sleep to the thought of you.

you can’t really blame all of this on him though. you’ve been a little more open about hanging out with him since your breakup with dohwan. jungkook has gotten used to your presence as a result. some people would see it as using jungkook as a rebound, but he feels anything but that.

you’re a breath of fresh air to hang around after a long day of work. which is funny cause there was a period of time he considered hexing you. now? he longs to see you and fill in gaps of his day with you. when he doesn’t see you, he thinks of you.

that just might be his demise.

even bam has taken a liking to you and often refuses to let you go back home when you are over.

like dog, like owner.

“aw bammie,” you kneel down, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

bam whines and follows you to the door.

“you can stay if you like, the guys won’t mind.” jungkook reasons. he’s having a small get together with some of his friends and extended the invite to you. you declined, telling him you don’t want to intrude and he should spend some quality time with them.

“just say that you want to be with me 24/7 and go,” you joke. jungkook won’t admit to you he does.

“nah, just need someone to watch bam while i have some bro time.” he teases back.

“hire a dog nanny then,” your hands automatically reaches down to scratch behind bam’s ear. there’s no need to hire one cause you’d willingly take care of bam for free. it’s all fun and jokes, jungkook knows this. he laughs and holds bam back from following you out the door.

“be on your best behavior tonight for your daddy, ‘kay?” you talk to bam like you’re his mom and jungkook’s stomach does flips at the mention of ‘daddy’ leaving your lips, “if it gets too much, you can sleep over at my place.”

bam has a sleeping mat at your place too. you’ve gotten it for him when jungkook comes over to watch movies — insisted that the pup should have a comfortable space in your home.

jungkook feels like he’s sharing custody with you. everything feels more domestic and it’s fucking with jungkook’s head and heart. which is why he asked you to dog sit bam while he goes on a date next weekend with some client’s friend he met at the tattoo parlor. thinks this date would be a good reset from you.

you wave goodbye to him, a playful grin adorning your lips, “have fun tonight, 305. if it gets too much, you can also come to my place too.”

he hates when you tease like this. makes him feel like he holds a space in your life more than he already should. knows you’re joking, but can tell there’s some truth in your statement. you’re attached to him just as much as he is to you.

“also, try not to be too loud tonight.”

“no promises,” he laughs, “hobi-hyung will be over.”

you giggle, you’ve met hoseok in the passing and also teased him too for causing a ruckus at the housewarming party. all his friends like you — it’s no surprise jungkook would eventually too.

so yeah, he’s treading in dangerous territories.

—

you’ve really been focused on yourself and your friendships. on your hardest days where you yearn for intimacy, you force yourself to be okay with the idea and concept of being alone. there’s a lot of bad days, but they get better.

it’s not always about being in isolation though.

it’s about not being dependent on someone to fill a void.

with dohwan, you realized you fell in the pattern of needing to be around him and when he wasn’t there, the world crumbled beneath your feet. over time, you realized he wasn’t good for you.

wrong person, wrong time.

because the right person will always make you feel safe and seen.

jungkook was right. it’ll take time to find that person — there’s no rush.

yet, you have this disquieting feeling when you see him rustling through his home to get ready for his date tonight. what do you do when you feel like the right person might be slipping away under your nose?

right person, wrong time, you suppose.

bam, his not so small puppy, lays his head on your lap and would occasionally lift it when jungkook walks close. if bam is doting with you, he’s completely devoted to jungkook.

doesn’t realize that his dad is gonna leave you both until he puts on his shoes at the door.

“ah-ah, bammie, stay,” you hold him and he whimpers for jungkook.

“well? how do i look?” jungkook does a quick 360 and you wanna poke fun at him, but you can tell he’s on edge for whatever reason. he has no reason to be. he’s charming, handsome, and knows exactly what to say or do to make someone’s heart skip a beat as he’s done so to you numerous times — you’d never admit it.

he’s your neighbor and most importantly, your friend. it’s a sacred relationship and boundary you’re hesitant to break. so you swallow down whatever you’re feeling and smile reassuringly to him, “you look great, jungkook.”

he beams and extends his hands out for a high-five, “thanks, wish me luck.”

your hands make contact with his and it feels electrifying.

“no luck needed, mr. 305 worldwide.” he absolutely hates the new nickname you’ve given him, doesn’t argue back though, simply scoffs and looks at the time on his phone.

“now go before you’re late and bam bolts out the door for you.” you shoo him out his own apartment.

he reaches down to pat bam on his head and give him some tender smooches.

“call me if there’s an emergency or if you’re bored.” he tells you with his hands shoved in his pockets and some of his bangs fall onto his forehead. there’s something so boyish about his mannerisms … you swallow thickly when you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. a part of you wonders if you tell him to bail on the date, would he? you’re not cruel enough to do that to him and his date. they could be soulmates for all you know.

“and what? you’ll come entertain me?” your eyes squint, “go enjoy your date, 305. we’ll be here.”

before you know it, he’s out the door and you’re left wondering what if.

—

jungkook didn’t realize how much of a disaster the date was going until his date seated across from him rolls her eyes.

“i’m sorry … am i boring you with my story?” he was telling her how he had to help you break into your own apartment because you forgot to bring your keys in the middle of the night.

“it just seems like you’re wasting both our times.” she says and places her drink down. her red manicured fingers circle the rim of her cup.

he’s confused. jungkook has been doing his best to keep the date afloat by talking and asking questions. he thought it’s been going well, minus the couple of times he checked his phone to see if he got any emergency texts from you about bam.

“i mean, why are you here when you clearly like someone else?”

“i don’t get—wait, what?”

“your neighbor 007 or whatever.” she says. it’s the wrong number and she knows it, but wants to see if jungkook reacts, “you’ve been talking about her all night.”

has he? he was just making light conversation … you’re a part of his life so slipping your name here and there feels natural.

“look, you seem like a nice guy. you’re obviously good looking too. if you’re not looking for anything serious, we can go back to my apartment right now for some fun. but long term? it feels like you have someone waiting at home for you.”

and the mood goes sour. jungkook is used to this. used to his dates objectifying him as a quick and good fuck — granted, he’s played this to his advantage when he was younger. now? it feels meaningless. he isn’t upset at that.

it’s the utter realization that he does have someone special to him and you’ve been right under his nose all this time. he’s always telling you to be honest with your feelings, yet he can’t even bring himself to uphold that advice for whatever reason.

jungkook apologizes to his date again, pays for the tab, and rushes home.

—

home can be a place, but for jungkook, it’s seeing you on his couch and greeting him with a sleepy smile.

bam jumps off your lap to nudge jungkook’s leg for attention.

“has he been good?” jungkook asks while scratching bam’s head, though he stops momentarily at the sight of you stretching and your shirt lifts a little to reveal the curves of your hips.

“mhm, an angel. how was the date?”

he contemplates on lying, but knows better. needs to practice what he preaches.

“bad.”

“oh? wanna talk about it?”

“uh, i kinda fucked it up,” jungkook toes off his shoes and avoids your eye contact.

“classic, first impressions have never been your strongest suit.” you put on your jacket and jungkook panics at the thought of you leaving early. he exhales a breath he’s been holding when you plop back down on his couch where he soon joins you.

“i’m not always that bad.” he mumbles.

“i know, i’m just teasing you.” you reach over to pinch his cheek.

when he doesn’t reply, it gets you a little worried. you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.

“sorry—“

“i kept bringing you up during the date.” he cuts you off.

“oof, no girl wants to hear about another girl …” technically, you’re hoping jungkook doesn’t talk about this one … let alone his previous dates or exes.

“i know,” he murmurs, leans his head back, and sighs, “she … called me out on it.”

“good, as she should.”

jungkook hesitates with his next words, but pushes forward, “said it’s cause i liked you.”

you pause. you could hear a pin drop in the room, minus bam’s paws making contact with the hardwood floor.

“oh … um,” you’re not dumb, you understand what he’s implying. you just don’t know how you’re going to run away from this conversation.

“i know you’re already planning your escape, 307,” he chuckles. his laugh sounds a little melancholy and an instant flood of guilt rushes through you.

“what! no! i-i just don’t know what to say,” you nibble on your lips. you’re fucking scared for what’s to come.

“just hear me out, okay?”

you nod, listen to him clear his throat and exhale a shaky breath.

“i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. maybe it’s cause i’m a creature of habit or whatever … well no, i don’t think it’s that. i like being around you and i’m thankful you’re in my life.” he looks and smiles at you fondly, as if he is preparing himself for the biggest rejection, “i like you … a lot. you don’t have to accept my feelings nor do anything with it. these feelings are mine and i just wanted to be honest with you. at the end of the day, i’d still like to remain friends as long as you’ll allow me.”

you want to fucking cry. he’s always been better at words and expressing himself. you see it in how he treats his friends, his dog, his profession and art … most importantly, you. you also want to be honest with him, but it already seems like he’s accepting the fate of nothing more.

you owe him the truth at least.

“jungkook … i—“ you begin, “i like you a lot too.”

jungkook lets out an exasperating grunt — he thinks you’re pitying him.

“please don’t feel the need to sugarcoat, 307. i just wanted to be—“

you press your lips to his. the kiss was too quick for anyone to process anything. you’ll remember though. you’ll remember his strawberry flavored chapstick, the cold lip piercing barrels, and the way he leans in slightly to chase after your lips when you pull away too soon. jungkook’s eyes widen at the realization that you just kissed him. all too short and he doesn’t think he can stop thinking about you after this anymore even if he tried.

“your feelings are yours,” you hold his hand, “but these are mine too.”

he whispers your name lowly and you shake your head.

“i’m no good with words,” you confess, “i just know that i like you too. but … i’m also a fucking mess, jungkook.”

“huh? no, you’re—“

“yeah, i am. i just got out of something long term … it wouldn’t be good for me to jump into another relationship. i don’t think it’s fair for you to deal with all my baggage when i haven’t sorted myself out.”

he nods, a little dejected but he understands what you mean.

right person, wrong time.

“okay,” he finally says, “nothing will change. friends?”

“friends,” you agree.

it’s a promise out of respect for you. will you regret this? possibly. though, everything feels normal when he walks you to your door later and wishes you a goodnight.

“don’t be fucking weird after tonight. if you avoid me, i’m making you run 10 laps every friday, 307.”

“rude,” you roll your eyes, “i should be saying that to you. don’t be fucking weird or else you’re getting another glitter bomb in the mail.”

“that shit was the worst to get off.”

“funny as hell though.”

“yeah, for you.”

everything feels so natural and safe with jungkook. how he looks at you, laughs at your jokes, eyes twinkle when you do the same for him. you don’t need the night sky when you got galaxies staring back at you.

—

“with all due respect, you’re being stupid.” nayeon says through the speaker.

“how? we both agreed that staying friends would be the best.” you reply a little louder over your sink. your kitchen was overdue for a cleaning and the weekends were the perfect time to catch up on chores.

you’re on the phone with nayeon and it’s a good distraction while you busy yourself with other things at the same time. though, you’re sort of regretting the call now with nayeon berating you for your decision to remain friends with jungkook a month ago.

“people can still date and work on themselves. it’s not a linear thing.”

“yeah, but—“

“you’re just scared. i know you.”

“nayeon …”

“jungkook and dohwan aren’t the same. anyone can get hurt in a relationship, but you shouldn’t deny yourself of something out of fear.”

“yes, but … i don’t think i’d be able to face jungkook if something bad does happen.” you’re serious. running away is your strong suit and you’d move out immediately if shit hits the fan.

“so you’d have no regrets staying like this?”

you don’t reply and that was an answer in itself.

“why are you so hellbent on me and jungkook? i thought you hated him …” it’s sort of funny to be talking to nayeon of all people about jungkook. hell, it’s thanks to jungkook’s mess up on their first tinder date that helped you land your friendship with nayeon.

everything happens for a reason.

“i only hated him cause you did. that’s what friends do, silly. also, if you’re feeling awkward because he and i dated … don’t. there wasn’t anything more. anyways, stop avoiding. you always do this.” she’s right. you’re the queen of avoiding hard conversations.

“i don’t want to lose a friend, nayeon.”

“you won’t. but you’ll lose your chance at experiencing something beautiful, sweetie,” she says, “you owe it to yourself. but hey, i gotta go to my pilates class. i’ll text you later, okay? i love you!”

“okay, love you too. i’m sorry for being difficult. don’t pull a muscle in class!”

“if i do, will you give me a massage?” she laughs, “and no, you’re never difficult. just you being you.”

the call ends and you’re left alone once again with your thoughts. things haven’t really changed between you and jungkook. he’s still his chipper self. you just yearn for more time with him these days. every subtle touch … whether it be his hand on your lower back guiding you upstairs, his fingers brushing yours during the walks, or when he massages your feet upon request sends you into a place where you feel yourself succumbing to your deepest desires.

you want more.

you can tell jungkook does too. he’s unashamed in his affections towards you but he’ll never pressure you or cross that boundary you’ve set.

you realize it hurts to deny yourself of wanting someone who wants you just as equally.

—

you’re at jungkook’s place again one evening. bam is all tuckered out from his walk and jungkook is fixing a bowl of popcorn to snack on while you search through netflix for something to watch.

it’s your pick tonight and you wanted to watch a crime documentary. ghost and thrillers don’t interest you, but crimes? yeah, full body chills because they’re real.

you turn to see jungkook in a big white t-shirt with grey sweats — he looks so comfortable. he’s seasoning the popcorn and catches you staring at him. he shakes his head and smiles back down bashfully at his bowl.

he looks like home … no, he feels like home.

fuck.

you really are torturing yourself.

when jungkook settles onto the couch and the documentary starts, you scoot closer to him. you don’t know if you’re making a fool of yourself, but jungkook pays no mind. his arm circle around you effortlessly and you nestle your cheek into his chest.

so warm — he smells so nice. jungkook sports on a lax expression, yet you can feel and hear the rapid thumps of his heart.

“you sure friends cuddle when they watch shit together?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the television.

“no,” you look up at him, “do you not want to?” you start to move away, but jungkook holds you in place.

he feels your smile through his shirt. yeah, you’re torturing him and he’s enjoying it.

as the documentary plays, jungkook gets immersed in the story. he looks a little silly with his big eyes and mouth slightly ajar as he soaks in all the crime details and backstory. his hand involuntarily moves to massage your scalp and you feel yourself lulled to sleep under his touch.

after a while, he calls your name and gently shakes you awake.

“hey sleepyhead. had a good nap?” he muses.

“mhm, sorry … was so tired from work. did i miss a lot?” you look at the dark television screen and feel guilty.

“just the entire documentary,” he teases, “it’s alright, you wouldn’t be traumatized like me now. i know i’m going to be having nightmares.”

“‘m sorry,” you snuggle closer to him and his breath hitches, “anything i can do to help?”

“hmm …” he holds his thinking pose, “i don’t know, maybe a kiss?”

“just kidding, 307. it’s late, so let’s get you hom—”

“yeah? think a kiss will make you feel better?” you press on.

you knew he was joking, but there’s a surge of confidence coursing in you when you push up on him and he swallows hard. he says your name in warning but he makes no effort to move or push you away. he wants this badly too. been thinking about you and your lips since you last kissed him — never stopped.

“don’t do something you’ll regret.” his hand cradles your cheek.

“i’m not,” your nose brush against his, “i wanna kiss you. please, will you let me?” you ask with pleading eyes and jungkook lets out a shuddering breath and nods.

you look down at his parted lips and back at his hooded eyes. you’re not sure who moved first — it doesn’t matter.

when your lips meet, it’s like heaven and hell collided and made earth — waves crashing onto land, blue horizons, and the smell of pinewood after rain. you don’t think you can let go of this feeling any time soon and when you finally do give into your longings, life feels a little more salvageable … freeing.

jungkook slots his lips between yours, pulling you up to straddle his lap. he moans when your hands tangle in his hair and pulls you in closer if that was even possible.

you lick into his parting mouth when he pants, indulge in the way he sounds as he’s kissing you back. the kiss is hard and passionate — so much more different than the first one you had. there’s a sense of urgency here … like there’s a time constraint or limitation to your affections. you wish you could reassure him; though the best you can do at this moment is to drink him in as much as he allows you to. his hands roam all over your body and you shiver in pleasure when one of his hand travels to the front of your throat possessively. there’s no pressure in his hold, but it’s telling you that you belong here with him.

when you finally do pull away, you plant dainty kisses on the corner of his lips and jaw. he giggles at the tickling feeling and brings your face back to his to give you a much gentler kiss. though you are no longer kissing, your foreheads stay connected in place.

“there, much better, right?” you say breathlessly.

“mhm,” he replies, “should’ve used the trauma card earlier if i knew i’d be getting free kisses.”

your brain is going a mile a second, but you’re sure of this.

“you don’t need to,” you say a little uncertain. jungkook straightens himself in his seated position when he realizes you’re about to say something serious.

“you can kiss me whenever you want … if you want! i know i said we should stay friends, but i think i like you too much to just stay that way. i want to see where things go and i’m fucking scared. i mean, fuck, am i making any sense? please say something,” you’re rambling and jungkook can only smile as you unravel through your confession.

of course he wants more with you.

“just say you want me and go, 307.” he laughs when you pull away cutely. he has no intentions of letting you go and you had no intentions of leaving. it’s too comfortable in his embrace.

“we’ll take things slow, okay?” he kisses your nose in reassurance.

“okay.”

—

fast forward three months, you and jungkook have been dating each other — slow and steady as promised. no official title (yet) but you know he’s exclusively seeing you. you’re enjoying his company and there’s no rush. when there’s something special and secure, it’s all smooth sailing and calm tides. you never have to guess with him.

he feels the same with you.

this marks the 13th weekend date with you and he’s going to do it. jungkook is going to ask you to be his girlfriend. he’s fucking nervous … has a whole date planned: dinner, movies, then back to his place where he’ll officially ask you.

part of him wants to wait for the next weekend because the number 13 was bad luck, but he’s felt nothing but luck with you. luck in the chances of meeting you in this apartment complex, luck in your friendship, and now luck with the prospect of love.

so when your door swings open to reveal you in a short black satin dress, hair done prettily, and your skin dewey and sparkly from your makeup, he knew was going to make 13 lucky no matter what.

“you look beautiful,” jungkook compliments and holds out his hand to walk you down the stairs.

“you don’t look half bad too,” you taunt, taking his warm hand. there’s no malice cause jungkook knows how you feel about him. notices how your eyes rake over his form, has caught you checking him out plenty of times before, felt the way your lips moved on his skin to praise how hot he looked one evening despite him coming back looking like a sweaty hog that’s been run over by a train.

if you’re curious … aside from making out and heavy petting paired with some dry humping sessions here and there, no, they haven’t had sex. probably for the better, it’s already hard enough to separate from each other after every hangout.

slow and steady. you are both fine with that.

“sooo, you gonna tell me where we’re going or is this where you murder me?” you check your lip gloss in the rear view mirror. jungkook’s right hand naturally find its way to your thighs while he drives.

“you’ll find out soon,” he gives you a little squeeze and it sends a little tingle to your core.

—

it’s going terribly.

traffic was absolutely ass for no reason, so they get to their first destination 45 minutes later than anticipated. the restaurant he had reservations for let him know that the kitchen caught on fire the moment he parked in the lot.

okay, fine. to the movies it is.

except, the movie stopped halfway through due to some technical difficulties. he was going to lose his mind, but you were a good sport through it all. jungkook still had one final trick up his sleeve for you.

when you both finally get back to his place with bags of takeout, jungkook lets out a wail of frustration.

“bam, no!”

all the balloons he blew up have been popped. you look past his shoulders to see a torn up sign with the words: wil u e my fren?

bam prances to you and jungkook with his wagging tail, unaware of jungkook’s inner anguish and turmoil. jungkook runs his hands over his face and freezes in place.

“aw baby,” you try comforting jungkook, “it was an accident. bam didn’t know.”

“i know, i just … fuck, gimme a minute.” jungkook stalks over to his bedroom and closes the door. you place the bags of food on the dining table and crouch down to pet bam.

“you really upset your dad, bammie. he worked really hard on this,” you know bam doesn’t understand a single word you’re saying, but you’re disappointed for jungkook too. jungkook really put in the effort and you’re touched by it all. he really wants you and you want nothing more than to be his.

you feed bam his dinner and set the takeout in the fridge, unsure of when you and jungkook will be ready to eat.

hesitantly, you knock on jungkook’s door. know you don’t need his permission to come in — you’ve slept over plenty of times, but still do it out of courtesy.

“can i come in, kook?”

a moment of silence ensues before you hear a little, “… yeah.”

jungkook was on his bed, feet still on the floor with his arms sprawled out. poor boy.

you climb onto bed next to him and lay your head on his shoulder.

he’s visibly upset — not at you of course. he just wanted to make this special.

“that was fucking cute. no one has ever done that for me before.” you say. the best you got from dohwan were a bouquet of roses sent to your workplace. jungkook’s efforts superseded your expectations.

“which part? no dinner, no movies, or the shit show of a sign?”

“all of it.”

“pff, don’t lie.” he sulks.

you throw your leg over his torso to straddle his waist.

“i’m not! you’re so fucking sweet,” you move down to kiss his cheek when he doesn’t look up at you.

“come on, don’t you want my answer?” you place his hands on your hips, wanting him to touch you somewhere.

he cocks his brow at you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“fine fine, i’ll be your ‘fren’ if that’s what you want.”

he covers his face in embarrassment, “ugh, that shit was so humiliating. bam isn’t getting any treats for the next three days.”

“hey! don’t punish my baby. it was an honest mistake.” you reassure him, “plus, i gave him an earful.” yeah, and his dinner right after. it’s no wonder bam likes you a lot more these days.

“okay, okay … i’m still sorry about today. nothing went accordingly.” jungkook sighs and rubs soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“you’re not allowed to punish yourself either,” you say a matter of fact, “did you mean it though?” you look at him through your lashes.

“hm?”

“want me as your girlfriend?” when you finally say those words, it sets off a bundle of butterflies in your stomach.

jungkook quickly sits up, holding you securely so you don’t topple over, “of course, i do. just wanted to make it special for you.”

you felt fucking special.

so fucking special in how you said yes, saw how he beamed at your answer, kisses you silly, tongue running down your neck, the little bites on your collarbone — you’re on cloud 9.

he involuntarily drags your hips over his clothed length and you whimper upon contact.

“you hungry, baby? we didn’t have dinner yet,” jungkook asks innocently through his heavy breaths, but you’re too busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt. how could he possibly think about food at a time like this? then again, you have to remember he’s the biggest foodie known to earth. he’s caring of your wellbeing so of course he’d worry if you’re hungry.

he’s also your boyfriend now.

you shake your head. you don’t just want him — you need him.

you slide off of him and are on your knees in between his legs. he looks at you through his heavy lids when you clock your head to the side, waiting for the green light to take off his pants.

“you’ve been so good to me, planning this date … lemme show you how thankful i am.”

jungkook loves being praised and rewarded. he especially loves it even more coming from you. he lets out a moan when you run your hand down his clothed bulge. yes, jungkook has had sex before — honestly, don’t ask him about his body count … he’s not sure either. what he’s sure is that he loses all senses when you touch him — like a virgin touched for the very first time.

his pants are down and kicked off to the side, shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, and head thrown back when you settle between his legs to give his hard length a squeeze.

he’s so fucking big in your hand and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his precum leaking from the slit of his cock. fuck, you don’t know how he’s going to fit in your mouth, but it doesn’t matter. you’re going to make him come undone one way or another.

“baby, i’m literally going to nut if you keep squeezing me like that.”

you laugh, “how long are you going to last inside me then?”

“fuck, you can’t say shit like that.”

“why not?” you press a small kiss on his hip bone and pump his cock with your hand. his eyes closes and mouth drops open at the change of movement.

“gonna nut even faster,” he chuckles.

jungkook hisses when you lick a long stripe underneath his shaft without warning. one of his hand reaches behind your head for support while the other one grips his bedsheets.

“oh god,” he lets out a small moan when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to bob your head at a pace that has him seeing stars.

his cock was lathered with your spit and his precum. the sounds you made while you sucked him off were nearly pornographic. his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when his cock hits the back of your throat.

“shit, oh f-fuck,” his fingers are caught in your hair and your moans vibrate against him when he gently pushes your head down while he fucks up into your mouth.

if you keep going like this, he wasn’t going to last long and he really wants to … can’t bring himself to cum in your mouth just yet. he really wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut quick, so he pulls you away when he nearly cums. you breathe heavily through your swollen lips. jungkook runs his thumb on your cheeks where some mascara has smeared as a result of your doing.

you’re still so fucking perfect.

he lifts you from your kneeled position back onto his lap and kisses you slow and tenderly. jungkook whines into your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue. your dress has ridden up on your waist, the the thin straps are loose and off your shoulders.

“i somehow fucked up the entire night and you still decided to give me the best head? must really like me or something,” jungkook looks at you endearingly and takes notice of how you’re rutting yourself onto his length.

“you know i do. my boyfriend deserves the best.” jungkook’s heart soars at hearing the word boyfriend leave your lips.

yes, he’s yours.

you shake in pleasure as you roll your hips deliciously slow on him. you’re practically soaked through your thin panties.

“did you get this wet just by sucking me off, baby?”

you nod and trail kisses on his cheeks and jaw, “all for you, kook. you always make me this wet.”

he takes so much pride in how he’s able to get you all worked up like this.

jungkook wasn’t expecting to have sex with you tonight, but it’s like you said … it’s special. the rest of your clothing join his in a pile on the ground. he rolls you onto your back and drinks in your naked form. you shy away from his stares and kiss up at him.

your hand reach between you both while he continues to kiss you and you position his still-hard cock in between your folds for that additional friction. the wet clicks mixes in with both your pantings and synchronized moans. every time the head of his cock slides and catches onto your swollen clit, you shudder and arch your back in pleasure.

“want you to fuck me,” you kiss his pouty lips and down his neck, “please?”

jungkook leans back a little, sits on the heels of his feet, and pushes your thighs close to your chest. the angle lets him move and slide your hips up and down his length even more. you gasp and call out his name in wanton.

he drops your legs down and closes the distance between you both again. his bare chest brushes against yours and he lines his cock at your entrance.

“you’re so perfect,” his breath fans over your face, “so lucky to have you.” jungkook swoops his arms under you in a tight embrace. you look at him through your glassy eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.

your heart swells at his words.

there’s little to no resistance when jungkook finally enters you.

it’s a mixture of sweet, nasty, loving, and primal desire how jungkook fucks you into his sheets. he hates loud sex, but he wants to hear all of you. the way you mewl, whimper, cry, and breathe — all of it.

and when you wrap your legs around him and coax him into cumming inside you while your fingers trace the planes of his back, he knows he’s done for.

you giggle, nudge your forehead on his, hold his hand, and kiss all over his face. the afterglow on you both is stunning.

“you’re right, you didn’t last long at all.” you hum. jungkook raises one of his eyebrows and smiles mischievously. it’s a fucking lie since jungkook knows he made you cum at least twice in the span of fucking you, but who would you be if you didn’t try challenging him a little?

he doesn’t have to say anything before slipping down your body and burying his face in between your legs. he licks up your slit tentatively, watches your brows furrow and mouth part, and moans into your heat when your hand travels to his head to push him down as he did to you.

“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere,” jungkook means it both literally and figuratively. doesn’t understand how anyone could part from you. it’s their loss.

he continues lapping up your mixed essence, nipping at your inner thighs on occasion when your hips jerk away from the pleasure.

“kook, mmph- yes! just like that,” you encourage when he wraps his lips around your clit. he sucks, soothes, and makes out with your messy cunt. he wanted to draw out the night longer, toy and dangle your pleasure in front of you as a punishment for your teasing. knows he’s the reason you’re this wet, can’t bring himself to edge you on a special night like this — maybe another time when he’s feeling more mean. he has all the time in the world with you; there’s no rush.

tonight is all about you, his girlfriend — his.

“so close, baby,” you look down, hips stuttering under his hold as he doesn’t let up with his ministrations on your clit. he trails his fingers at your entrance, coating them with your juices before entering you slowly.

“yeah? won’t you give me another one? come on, i know you can do it,” he says between bated breaths. you shake and arch your back, mouth parts open but no sound comes out as you let the waves of pleasure ride over. the squelching sounds increase as his fingers fuck into you faster.

“i-i’m fucking cumming,” you cry out and jungkook nods in acknowledgement, moaning with you to draw out your orgasm. when you come for the third time that night, he wants to paint the image in his memory and revisit it on a rainy day. no promises that he won’t sport a hard on every time. the sight of you quivering, hands squeezing your chest and rolling your nipples between your fingers to prolong the pleasure, has his head spinning. jungkook trails kisses down your pussy, takes his fingers out and licks them clean before spreading you wider to clean you up with his tongue. he only part ways with your cunt when you whine for him.

he comes back up your body slowly, presses his lips on your tummy and giggles when you squirm from the sensation. however, when he is finally face to face with you again, jungkook has on this determined look.

he can’t seem to get enough of you and your body. addicted, he is.

“you’re not done with me, aren’t you?” you give him that pretty post-orgasmic smile.

never, he thinks.

jungkook was about to reply until the rumbles of your stomach cuts through the silence. it should be embarrassing but you feel close enough to jungkook that you both laugh at how unserious the situation is.

“come on baby, let’s go eat our dinner.” he pulls you up and puts you in one of his oversized t-shirts.

you still believe your ideal neighbor should be mindful, quiet, and kind. jungkook was certainly not quiet, mindful, or kind with how he entered into your life.

though, he wasn’t just someone who’d be your neighbor by the law of attraction and the cosmic pull of the universe.

love is patient, love is kind.

you know you’ve found your home — you just never expected it to be right next door.

fin.

—

a/n: tadaaaaaa. what’d you think? 😜

[scented-morker]

Wearing Enhypen’s clothes

Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone else’s😬

Heeseung

He is the perpetrator.

Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you

It’s not cute either— your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere

But as soon as it’s on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin

Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute

And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle 😔

Jay

At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him 🥺

He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like “how do you manage to make this look good 😭”

“Well for starters, the clothes actually fit me” he laughs and ruffles your hair

He likes to get matching outfits so you don’t always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match

But you always end up stealing his accessories

The amount of times he’s complimented your necklace only to realize it was his 😐

You’re lucky he loves you

Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while you’re playing with his hands 🥰

Jake

THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES

He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked

He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits

Like “hey what if you added- I don’t know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, I’ve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.”

He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when they’re so long it looks like you aren’t wearing pants 😭)

Refers to his new purchases as “our new jacket” or will text you and ask “do you like this?”

And when you tell him it’s a mens shirt so you wouldn’t wear it he goes “actually, it’s a jake shirt, which means it’s a yn shirt.”

Sunghoon

He’s one to act like he doesn’t like it

But one time when you told him you were cold and he said “sounds like a you problem” you threatened to go get one of the other boys’ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad 😭

Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesn’t want you to get it from someone else

Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back

And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have don’t smell like him anymore—

He’s gonna need three to four business days to recover from that

Sunoo

Another one to refer to his closet as “our closet”

He always asks you to wear his stuff

Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and he’d give you something of his to wear

Sharing sweaters 🥺

Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like it’s the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it

“Today I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of you” 🫶

Jungwon

Listen, he’s seen the romcoms— you’ve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes

He just had no idea how to offer it

Does he just walk up to you one day and say “here, wear this”? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?

HE DOESNT KNOW!!!

But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed

Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasn’t exactly made for comfort

“Hey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isn’t very comfy.”

He scolds you at first for not wearing something you’re comfortable in because he’s gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into

Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler

“I thought this was going to be cute but you look really funny”

Riki

Listen, he loves napping

And napping on you is one of his favorite places

So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset

He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace

You’re still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red

“Thanks for the hoodie ki,” you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks

“Well if you hate it that much you can take it off.”

“Never!! This is mine now!”

Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back

[homunculus-argument]

Random worldbuilding from the Book I'm Not Working On: noble families' family stones

Every single noble family in the Empire has a specific stone type as their representing symbol, much like a coat of arms - the stone itself is somewhat irrelevant to the particular family's origins, but you can roughly estimate how old and/or powerful a house is by how valuable their House Stone is, as naturally gemstones were taken up first, and newer and lesser families adopt whatever fancy stones are still available, in declining order.

As there is a limited amount of types of stone out there, one may naturally also adopt the stone of another noble house that has passed from existence. It is considered natural that if an ursurper family is powerful and crafty enough to wipe out a specific house that is in decline, they have the rightful claim for that family's former stone. Representing the ruling class of a brutal imperialist empire that values power above all else, the noble houses see nothing wrong in this - ones with power don't just have the right to take down those who are declining and weak, but it is downright their duty to do so.

The higher up you go, the more precious the family stones become. Someone with the right to wear jewellery with sapphires or emeralds is most certainly someone who is entitled to eat at the same table with the Empress - if not downright from the same plate. The exception to the rule is the Empress herself.

Regicide is considered an acceptable way of changing rulers - an empress whose position is weak enough to simply be killed off just like that deserves to go - but the stone of the Empress stays the same, no matter what house the current ruler is from. The representing stone of the House on the Throne is granite. Common grey granite, polished like a precious gemstone, and set in silver and white gold.

Though nobody knows the exact historical accuracy of the tale, legend has it that this custom has been in use ever since the Empire became an empire. The warlord houses of the region had decimated each others' rulers and commanders for so long that once they came together to form a truce and make peace, none of them could agree on anyone from any family to rule over them all. A commoner (who, exactly, depends on who is telling the story) was chosen to become the Empress, and when it came time for her to choose a stone to represent the new royal line, she picked up a chunk of grey granite that had chipped off the foundation of the royal palace in the recent battles over the throne, stating that if this grey granite is noble enough to form the foundations of the palace, then surely it is noble enough to be the foundation of the Empire itself.

[seokgyuu]

What could be worse than a valentine’s day alone? Exactly, a valentine’s day spent with your academic rival, Jeon Wonwoo, stuck in the home eco’s kitchen because you were both sentenced to take over the cookie baking for this season’s day of love. 

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)

warnings: sexual content, smut warnings under cut! wonwoo is a little bit mean? but like not too mean? she’s also kinda mean. but they are in love! promise.

word count: 5k

a/n: hi everyone!! this is part of the cupids collab hosted by the wonderful @wongyuseokie for @svthub! this work is dedicated to the wonderful, the lovely, the hilarious @highvern! i hope you like it, babes!! sending you loads of love this valentine's day and thousands of kisses, mwah! i had loads of fun writing this and am happy to be a part of this collab, hehe. also thank you @ourdawnishotterthanourday for betaing, ily! <3

“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move.  “Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.”  Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him. “Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.” “I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”

smut warnings: minimal degradation (usage of the word “slut”), praising, pet names (princess, sweetheart, darling, pretty girl) oral (f. receiving), begging, softdom!wonwoo, unprotected sex (you know the drill - wrap it before you tap it, folks!), creampie (get it… cream…pie? cookies & cre- ok i’m sorry).

There are approximately seven thousand three hundred and twenty eight places you would rather be than here. 

Nothing has helped you get out of this unfortunate situation. No pleading, no begging, not even wanting to send Seungkwan in your stead. Professor Yoon had been adamant in his decision to send you and him to this god forsaken home eco kitchen to bake the badge of cookies for the Valentine’s day sale. 

“It’s not even a real holiday!” you had whined to Seungkwan, “if it were, we wouldn’t even be at class in the first place!” 

All your best friend did was rub your back and tell you it was all gonna be fine, all while writing a text to Vernon on his phone in his other hand. He was used to your antics when it came to Jeon Wonwoo. Everyone was, at this point. Both of you had not made it hard to get used to - just by the amount of times you had decided to fight and dive right into rivalry when there was no reason to. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t even a bad idea to put you two in one room together for several hours with no one else. It could give you time to talk out your differences. Call for a truce. Screw the anger out of each other. Anything that would make Seungkwan’s life easier. 

That day comes sooner than you wanted it to, and while your hand lays on the handle of the car door, you feel the uneasiness inside you raise. 

“I can’t do this, Seungkwan. One of us is gonna end up dead.”

“Yeah, my money’s on Wonwoo. Please don’t disappoint me.” Seungkwan hums back, hands on the steering wheel and his eyebrows raised. You turn around, your mouth slightly agape before scoffing and opening the door.

“Pick me up at 4?” you ask and your best friend nods, waving at you once the door is closed. He truly hopes neither of you ends up dead (but if push comes to shove, obviously Wonwoo because then Vernon would owe him 5 bucks). 

Professor Yoon had told you that all necessities would be at the university and that you wouldn’t have to bring anything except for a good mood, something you didn’t dare to say was impossible in the given situation. 

You aren’t stupid (Wonwoo would beg to differ), you are well aware that your professor is trying to end whatever war you and Wonwoo have going on by pairing you up for this. And while you get the sentiment and might even appreciate it a little - you’re more than sure that nothing will ever come out of this - Wonwoo and you despise each other. It has been like this since your first semester and it most definitely wasn’t going to change over something as trivial as baking cookies together. 

The home eco’s kitchen is in the basement of the economics building and you are happy to notice you’re the first to arrive. Smiling to yourself, you fish the key to the room out of your bag and unlock the door, walking in and turning on the lights. 

The kitchen is spacious and modern, everything is made out of gray steel, with a few dark wood accents on the cupboards. You spot the boxes with ingredients on the island, and place your bag next to it before unpacking the things provided for you and Wonwoo. It becomes your mission to arrange the cookbook with the recipe in the center of the right side of the island, gathering all the needed ingredients around it in the order you would need it. Then, you search the cupboards for a big bowl, wooden spoon and a mixer. 

You have gathered almost everything except for the mixer, spotting it in one of the higher cupboards you most definitely can’t reach without some sort of help. Biting down on your lip and gnawing on it, you look around the room, coming up empty. There are chairs in the room next to the kitchen, but you don’t have the key for it. With a sigh, you stretch yourself as much as you possibly can, hand reaching for the kitchen gadget - with no luck. Just when you’re about to climb on top of the counter, you feel something shift behind you, a body suddenly pressed against yours and an arm reaching up to grab the mixer for you without any trouble at all. 

Wonwoo. Your body stiffens at his touch and only relaxes once he backs off, putting the mixer down next to the other stuff. Immediately you turn around, your eyes glaring at him.

“Someone decided to show up, after all.” You spit at him and he rolls his eyes. 

“I was forced, if you must know.” He says not even looking at you. His eyes are focused on the ingredients on the counter, his lips slowly drawing into a smug smile.

“Control freak much?” 

Your head burns and you scoff, walking over to the door and feeling his eyes on you as you move. 

“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move. 

“Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.” 

Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him.

“Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.”

“I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”

For the most part the two of you are quiet. Mainly because you don’t have anything to say to each other. You split the ingredients evenly (either one of you starting with their own batch since there is a whole lot of cookies to bake) and begin working on opposite ends of the kitchen. You get through the first batch without so much as exchanging looks. You do your thing and he does his. Only, when you get the first batch out, you ask him to hand you the oven mittens, which he does without any fuss. You’re surprised but don’t say it. 

It’s when the both of you start to work on your second batches that things… change.

You hate to admit the tension in the room. In fact, you’ve been hating it since the first day you’ve met him. It’s a shame he’s so hot when he’s the absolute bane of your existence. Your friends (mainly Seungkwan, really) tease you about your obvious attraction to the man you call your archnemesis every chance they get, causing you to flip them off, or scoff, or just roll your eyes at how extremely wrong they are. If you could change it, you would! Finding him attractive whilst hating him truly is exhausting. 

Slowly, you let yourself turn around in hopes he doesn’t notice. Thankfully, he is entirely focused on sprinkling chocolate chips into the cookies - white chocolate chips. You let out a gasp and your wooden spoon falls onto the top of the counter you’re working on.

“That’s cheating!” You shout, pointing at the package of sweets that he so obviously brought himself. What a jerk!

Not even looking at you, Wonwoo chuckles at your words, placing the chocolate chips next to him and wiping his hands on the apron he had put on earlier. Then, he turns to you, hip leaning against the counter, arms crossed and his eyebrows raised as he smirks like the douchebag you know he is.

“Cheating, yeah?” He repeats, licking his lips, “not sure it counts as cheating when it was clear from the beginning I would make better cookies, sweetheart.”

His condescending way of talking to you has always succeeded in making your blood boil, just like right now. You scoff, shaking your head and cleaning your own hands with a kitchen towel to your left.

“You know, considering these are for the day of love it is quite ironic Professor Yoon paired me with you, the person I hate the most.” You present Wonwoo with a honey dripping smile that couldn’t be more fake. Wonwoo doesn’t waver though. He just continues to smirk, his eyebrows shooting up even more, and before you know it he starts walking towards you, a click of his tongue almost making you flinch.

“See, love and hate are like siblings. While on the surface they couldn’t be more different, in their core they are irritatingly similar,” his voice is deep and his eyes are right there on yours and somehow you feel like he has taken away your ability to breathe. What the hell is he doing?

“You were always fascinating to me, darling. Always so sure of your opinion, never wavering. That first day we met, do you remember? How you were on my ass for the rest of the day because Professor Cha liked my answer better than yours?”

“He did not!” You shoot back, surprised by your own whiny tone. Looking at Wonwoo’s face, the defined jawline and cheekbones, the round specs on top of his nose and the brown soft curls falling into his forehead, you immediately regret speaking up at all. There is something in his eyes now, something you have never seen before  - at least not on him. Something inside of him shifted, like a switch that had been flipped, and the way he looks at you makes all of your skin erupt in goosebumps. 

“Ah, so I imagined things?” Wonwoo only so much as whispers, his large frame coming even closer, “Are you saying I’m a liar, pretty girl?”

Pretty girl. What the fuck? Your eyes widen and you feel your throat closing up. Absolutely not, you could not freeze right now! He was testing you, seeing how far he could go before you actually fell for whatever he was trying to do. Gathering all your confidence, you bring your hands up to place them on his chest and softly push him away. It gives you extreme satisfaction when you see the surprise on his face.

“And if I am? What are you going to do about it, Wonwoo?” Your smile turns smug and the little vein on Wonwoo’s forehead pops out just slightly. About to retrieve your arms, you are met with his hands around your wrists and his body even closer to yours. 

To say he catches you by surprise would be an understatement. Your lower back is pressed against the counter, your hands in his grip and your lungs missing the necessary air to not get dizzy. Why does he smell so good? You catch yourself thinking thoughts you normally would try to suppress at any given time - especially when Wonwoo is right in front of you. This time, though, there is no escaping. Not with him so close, not with him staring right into your soul.

“I have learned one thing over the years we’ve known each other, Y/N,” he breathes, eyes not leaving your face, “you can be a real fucking brat.”

The gasp you want to let out gets stuck in your throat. Instead, something like a choke comes out, something that makes Wonwoo smirk and your legs weak.

“You really think you’re sly. Do you honestly believe I don’t know how attractive you find me? How you need to look away everytime I come in wearing tighter shirts or pants that hang low enough to see the waistband of my underwear? You always try to act like you hate me and, you know what, maybe you do, but what I said earlier isn’t wrong, darling, love and hate are like yin and yang - they can’t exist without the other.”

He has your wrists in a strong grip and his lower body is now pressed against yours, something you never realized you craved. Feeling his growing erection against you, knowing he is turned on by you, by the situation, you feel like your head is about to explode. 

“So, what if I tell you that maybe I don’t actually hate you, but I actually find you attractive as well? What if I tell you nine out of ten times I want to shut your annoying mouth up by shoving my cock right down your tight throat? Or how whenever you bend over your desk to tell someone something you, of course, know better than them, I want to take you just like that and make everyone see just how much of a desperate pretty slut you actually are?”

You’re done for. With every word he’s saying, you can feel yourself actually becoming what he says you are. Desperate. The heat between your legs has turned into liquid in your panties, has turned into your heart beating at triple speed. 

“Y-You can’t just say that!” You stutter, knowing full well he will just laugh at you. And he does. He laughs and he throws his head back and then he looks at you again, his eyes glinting with want that only gets emphasized by the hard cock pressing against you. 

“Oh, sweet, sweet baby. Of course, I can,” he hums, finally letting go of one of your wrists to carefully tug a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so beautiful, especially when you’re flustered.” 

He must be playing with you. It has to be one of his games. He wants you to give in, wants you to fall for this only to hold it over your head for the rest of your college life. His mixture of dominance and sweetness is about to give you whiplash, especially when he begins to caress your cheek and leans down, his breath hitting your cheek. 

“We need to finish those cookies, Wonwoo.” The words are whispered and almost inaudible, but he hears you and he smiles.

“We’re alone in this basement, sweetheart. We’ve got all day to finish those cookies.” His hand wanders down, finding its place on your hip. You shiver slightly, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips and when his nose bumps against yours, something tells you that maybe he is serious. 

When he kisses you, you figure that something is correct. What’s supposed to start soft turns into something deep, and hot, and uncontrolled, right off the bat. Kissing Wonwoo feels like the only thing you had ever missed out on in life and now you finally got the chance to take what belongs to you. His lips are soft and his tongue is warm, pressing against yours and entangling it in a dance of fire. Your hands are in his hair and his are on your hips and you’re sitting on top of the counter with all of your ingredients pushed to the side, your wooden spoon falling to the floor when Wonwoo lifts you up. 

As if on instinct, your legs wrap around him and you moan against his lips when his hands move up, groping your breasts through your shirt. He licks into your mouth, your fingers digging into his nape, nails dragging along his skin. 

If you could see into Wonwoo’s brain you might have gotten scared. Not because he’s thinking actual scary thoughts but because of how many times he has imagined this. You’re always there, somewhere in his brain, your smile, your eyes, your laugh. And when he’s alone and can’t sleep you’re there too, but this time it’s how he thinks you’d sound when he’s inside of you, when he sucks on your neck and squeezes your tits. There hasn’t been a day since he met you that he hadn’t thought about you. 

It’s a shame you immediately called him out to be your academic rival on that day because all Wonwoo wanted to do back then was to make you his girlfriend, basically falling in love with you at first sight. As cliché as it sounds, it’s even more cliché considering he just played along with you, acting like he hated you, riling you up during class in ways he would rather switch for moments like this one right now. 

Never had he imagined he’d get you alone, especially considering how good you are at avoiding him. But when Professor Yoon had asked him to bake the cookies for the Valentine’s day sale - he couldn’t help but suggest you as his partner. Hours would be spent together in a kitchen, hours you had to spend with him. 

He loves how right he was. How right he was about you giving in, about you finding him hot, about you wanting him. He loves the sounds you make when he begins kissing down your neck and when his hand wanders under your shirt and shoves away your bra to touch the breasts he had been dreaming about. He sucks marks onto your neck and feels himself grow harder with every passing second. There is nowhere on this earth he’d rather be than right here, between your legs. 

“Been dying to do this, you know?” He mumbles against your neck, licking up to your earlobe and twitching in his pants when he feels you shivering under his touch.

“R-Really?” You whimper back and Wonwoo nods, both hands moving to your cheeks, lips back on yours in a heated, passionate kiss. He thinks that nothing will ever feel as good as kissing you. 

“Yeah, baby, wanted to kiss you forever, fuck,” he moans when your fingers move underneath his shirt, when you touch his bare skin and all of him begins to burn.

“Wanted to touch you, taste you.” His words echo in your mind and you open your eyes, a horny daze in them that makes Wonwoo question his sanity. He moves down now, kissing your neck again and shoving your shirt up to kiss your stomach and breasts over your bra, nimble fingers opening the apron you had laced around your hips earlier. 

“Can I taste you, pretty girl?” He asks then and you think you nod, at least you want to nod, but your head is clouded and you feel like you’re about to pass out. When he moves to get the apron off of you, focussing on opening your pants next, you figure you did in the end. 

Having you half naked in front of him makes Wonwoo feel like he has reached the gates of heaven. Your pants are on the floor and your chest is heaving, eyes glossy as you watch Wonwoo move to the floor, his tall body still reaching the top of the counter when he kneels in front of you. He moves his arms, wrapping them around your thighs and pulling you closer, his nose tapping against your sensitive core the next second. With a gasp, your hands reach for his head of hair, grounding yourself in it as you stare down at the way he eyes your pussy as if he had never seen anything more delicious in his life. 

When he moves your panties to the side, his finger softly gliding over your folds, you feel yourself shiver once more. You let out another whimper, biting down on your lip that feels hot and a little bruised after the way Wonwoo had kissed you. 

“God, I can’t even tell you how many nights I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He kisses the inside of your thighs, making you moan quietly, fingers coating themselves in your juices, ready to please you. 

Watching him is messing with your head in the best way possible. The way he looks at you, so full of endearment and adoration. How he touches you as if you’d break if he touched you too vehemently. He lets his tongue glide over your skin, moving until it reaches your dripping cunt, licking over your lips, tasting you for the first time. The moan he lets out has you digging your nails into his scalp, mouth dropped as you continue to stare down, continue to watch Wonwoo, your archnemesis, begin to devour your pussy like a Michelin star dish. 

He starts off slow, licking over your folds, not touching your clit even once. If he died right now, he’d be content. Tasting you, hearing your sounds when you’re aroused, him being the cause of it - it’s almost all of his dreams coming true. His fingers move, one of them circling your entrance, your whines growing louder by the second. You want his fingers inside of you, you need them inside of you. Wiggling your hips against him, Wonwoo chuckles at your antics and finally moves his finger, inch by inch sinking into your needy hole, your eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him. 

“So, so eager, princess,” he mumbles against your pussy, another breathy laugh causing you to thrust forward, his finger now completely inside of you. And, fuck, do you feel wonderful. So much better than anything Wonwoo had experienced before, better than anything he could have imagined. Perhaps, he figures, it’s because it’s you. 

Next thing you know, Wonwoo’s lips are around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, tongue flicking against it and leaving you to moan his name time and time again. Your hips move against him and he lets you, his cock straining against his pants in desperate need for attention. But not yet, he isn’t done with you. First, you’d have to come undone on his tongue and his fingers, first you had to scream his name as you experienced complete and utter satisfaction. Wonwoo does everything in his power for that to happen. He adds another finger and fucks you open, his long fingers meeting your sweet spot with every thrust as if he had studied your body for hundreds of hours. His tongue does the work of a god, his lips kiss you like you had never known you needed to be kissed, especially down there. 

“D-Don’t stop! Oh, fuck, Wonwoo!” You cry out, your head thrown back as you focus on nothing but your pleasure, on how he feels on your pussy, how it all is too much and yet not enough. You think about what’s to come, about how he will fuck you next, will sink into you with his cock, will make you feel like you’re the most precious woman on this planet. Even more than he already does. Your high is nearing, it’s so close you can feel it right there in front of you, that tight knot in your stomach about to break free and give you one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 

“Cum for me, baby. Fuck, I want you to cum on my tongue.” Wonwoo’s words are like magic, like a spell that he puts on you. A lewd whine escapes your throat and you do as he wishes, cumming all over his tongue and fingers, your juices drenching his face. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, anticipation filling him when he finally parts from you. 

Immediately, you pull down to kiss him when he stands. Tasting yourself on his lips with your hands opening his apron and getting it off his tall frame with his help, you can’t wait to get even closer to him. You slip out of your panties with his lips steadily on yours, a faint sound in your ears when they hit the floor.

“Need you so bad, Wonwoo, please hurry,” you cry out and he laughs, kissing your neck and your cheek, his hands opening his belt, zipper and button, shoving his pants down only for you to gasp at the sheer size of his bulge. He grins, hands back on your face to make sure you’re looking at him.

“Naughty, aren’t you? My perfect, pretty slut,” he kisses your lips again and your eyes roll back, your pussy throbbing in want. And obviously he knows how much you want him - he wants you just the same. As he continues to kiss you, he moves to pull his briefs down, his hard erection springing free, angry tip red and smeared with pre, oh-so ready to sink into your warm embrace. You part from him, eyes now setting on his cock, your mouth watering at the sight. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” you say, swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth. Wonwoo only grins wider, his big hands finding purchase on your hips as he leans down again. 

“Beg a little for it, baby, and you might get it.” You shiver and bite down on your lip, your hands wandering over his still clothed torso and down to his cock, slowly wrapping your hand around it.

“Please, Wonwoo, please fuck me…,” is your whispered plead, and the man standing in between your legs groans against your neck, sucking yet another mark into your delicate skin before nodding and grabbing his cock out of your hand, lining it up perfectly with your entrance and slowly sinking in.

His forehead is leaned against yours when he bottoms out and his hands caress your head, coming to a stop on your nape. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose and you smile, giving the tip of his nose a kiss back. Then, he parts from you and the look in his eyes changes from soft to dark. He does his first thrust, catching you off guard, a loud moan escaping you. Your hands grab onto his shoulders as he continues his thrusts, fucking you deep and hard, his eyes focused on your face that contours in absolute bliss. When he said you’re beautiful, he meant it. 

He is holding onto your hips again, pulling you as close to him as he can, his hips chasing yours, his cock in the deepest bits of your pussy, your gummy walls squeezing him for his pleasure. There is nothing you can do besides begging him to go faster, begging him to not ever stop and crying his name when he leans down to suck on your hard nipple over your shirt. 

“Wonwoo! Fuck!” You clench over and over again, stars dancing in front of your eyes accompanied by beautiful lights that slowly but surely turn into fireworks. With every thrust of his hips, you feel yourself coming closer to the edge again. You want him to fill you, want him to claim you as his, make you feel full of him and only him. Nails are digging into his shoulders, your head falling back against the kitchen cabinet, his groans and the beautiful sound of your name coming out of his mouth chasing you off the cliff and into the warm waters of yet another intense orgasm. 

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, oh- Wonwoo!” It’s done, you are done, your climax hitting you hard and making you gush all over his length that is still so deeply buried inside your sensitive cunt. Wonwoo moans, feeling your pussy clench around him, squeeze him, beg him to cum, to decorate you in his shades of white. And he wants to, god, there is nothing he had ever wanted more. His breathing becomes labored and he leans forward, engulfing you in yet another heated kiss, one arm wrapped around you, the other letting its hand rest on your cheek, thumb caressing your chin as his tongue flicks against yours over and over, mixed with his breathless moans. 

When you squeeze him the next time, he erupts. He moans your name, hips becoming frantic as he shoots his load into you, spurts of white and hot cum filling your spent pussy, your and his combined releases dripping down your thighs even as he fucks his cum so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants against your mouth, continuing to kiss you right after, riding out his orgasm and only stopping when you’re both completely out of breath. 

It’s silent for a few moments, the only thing audible your almost synchronized breathing. Your hands are still on his shoulders, his hands are still on your waist and your cheek. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and he softly kisses your sweaty skin, nothing but pure happiness running through him at this point. He softly caresses your face as he leans back again, his eyes searching for yours. 

“Y/N,” he then breathes, a small and maybe even shy smile playing on his lips.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh back, pulling him into a hug that he accepts with a laugh, both his arms now fully wrapped around your body. He’s still inside of you and only leaves you when you part from the hug, more of his release now dripping out of your core. He doesn’t ask whether you’re on birth control because for all he cares he would love to have you pregnant with his child. The thought alone makes his head spin. 

“Well,” he begins, a smug smile on his face as he leans down to pick up your panties, “that definitely gives ‘cookies and cream’ a different meaning.” 

You stare at him, slightly bewildered, for around three seconds before you burst into laughter, grabbing your underwear from him and jumping back onto your shaky feet. “You’re horrible,” you say and shake your head and Wonwoo’s smile grows even wider.

“Maybe. But I promise you, sweetheart, I’ll never ever be horrible to you again.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Mr. Know-It-All,” you smile and give his cheek a peck that he reacts to by turning bright red. 

It is in that exact moment you realize Wonwoo was never your archnemesis. Nor has he ever been as much of an ass as you had made him out to be. Jeon Wonwoo is nothing but a loser who’s been in love with you since the very first day you met him, and perhaps you had always known. Perhaps you finally let yourself realize right now, the moment after he had cum inside of you and still blushes like a little kid when you kiss his cheek, that the only reason you had chosen him to be your rival was to run away from how much you knew you’d fall for him if you didn’t. 

“Come on, let’s do what we actually came here for.”

And for the rest of the day you and Wonwoo bake the cookies for the sale and talk about what your plans are for Valentine’s. To no surprise those plans immediately involve hanging out together. Maybe, you think, to give ‘cookies and cream’ that new meaning over and over again. 

[ckret2]

One of my favourite things about the book of Bill has to be how hard it has cemented that, for all the airs Bill likes to put on, he's actually awful at manipulating people. Like if you look at the just the show, on the surface his record isn't bad. 2 1/2 successful manipulations out of 3 shown on-screen is solid. ((That is until you examine it further and realize that the 2 successful ones were done to 12 year old children who 1. Weren't exactly in the best states of mind at the time due to severe sleep deprivation/a difficult emotional state and 2. he still had to trick via his power (the fake timer on the laptop/possessing blendin so Mabel didn't know it was him)) But now? Oh man! Ford wasn't just lucky, he joined a tradition dating back all the way to humanities beginnings! Bill has been trying to get people to do his bidding literally since people had gotten good enough at resource-gathering and tool-usage to be able to potentially build his portal! And he failed over and over and over again and he never learned shit! That would be bad enough but not only did he fail at manipulating several civilzations worth of people, they ALSO constantly thwarted him in ways beyond that! He got himself banished, trapped, and annoyed to hell and back and thats just the stuff he told us! Thats not even speaking of his latest and possibly greatest fumble, failing the convince us, the reader of the Book of Bill who is canonically a fan of Bill or at least Gravity Falls into striking a deal with him. In short, if I asked Bill to manipulate a child into eating ice cream with just his words I wouldn't trust him to get it done within my or the kids life time.

Except, Bill IS good at manipulating people. You JUST DESCRIBED several examples of him being good at manipulating people.

Identifying the most vulnerable targets, the "weakest link" most likely to cave and do what you want—like children (or elderly people with dementia, or immigrants who don't understand the language well)—is part of being good at manipulation.

Identifying and taking advantage of people in a compromised mental state when they're not thinking clearly and are more likely to do what you want is part of being good at manipulation. (He didn't try to persuade Mabel to destroy the laptop, BECAUSE HE KNEW DIPPER WAS MORE VULNERABLE. He didn't approach Dipper or Ford dressed as Blendin—BECAUSE HE KNEW MABEL WAS MORE VULNERABLE.)

Just straight up lying to people—about a situation (the timer), about a person (Blendin)—is a manipulation tactic.

Fabricating a totally artificial emergency and pressuring a target to ACT NOW to prevent disaster is a common con artist trick. (See: scammers who cold call strangers, say they're from the IRS and the stranger is behind on taxes, and demand they transfer a large amount of money from their bank RIGHT NOW or go to jail—WHICH ACTUALLY WORKS A LOT, especially because people CAN'T THINK AS CLEARLY when they're panicking.)

Disguising yourself as somebody trustworthy or somebody intimidating to trick a target into obeying you is also a common con artist trick.

Not to mention ALL the work we see into how he manipulates Ford: he makes note of Ford's social isolation and how Bill can use that to his advantage; he identifies the thing Ford wants most (respect & acknowledgment for his intellectual achievements) and weaves that into his manipulation; he uses both Ford's ego AND Ford's insecurity against him; he almost effortlessly turns Ford against the one friend who adores him, making Ford think his friend's kindest attempts to help are evidence of backstabbing; and even though ultimately it didn't work, you can't say that threatening to destroy Ford's life from inside his own body was a BAD manipulation tactic.

Plus the entire muse schtick. Fooling people into thinking you're doing something magical or supernatural is such a common manipulation tactic that there's a whole name for it: "mystical manipulation." Bill does this NON STOP with Ford, and with many of his other victims.

We see him successfully talk an entire tribe into helping him build a working redwood portal—and they only turned against him when the portal started petrifying people, unleashing monsters, and creating bottomless pits. He talked the Aztecs into sacrificing 9,000 people to build a portal that didn't even work. He talked not-Disney into making a cartoon about Bill that included UNLEASHING LIVE BEES IN THE THEATER. Who the hell would think that's a good idea!

And to top it all off, he formed multiple successful cults that were ride or die for him until the bitter end. That's like the crown jewel of being good at manipulating. Bill talked a whole town into joining his cult in under a month in spite of the fact that he kept calling them plasma bags and chugging formaldehyde. Based on the dates in the document about Silas Birchtree, people were marrying into Ciphertology at least five years after Bill's puppet disintegrated and he ditched them.

Bill was good at manipulating people!

Do you know what Bill WASN'T good at? Getting people to finish and open a portal.

Largely because portals are difficult to make, and because he can only get so far into the process before it becomes obvious that this thing will destroy the world and that's usually enough to override any other threats or promises he makes.

Yeah, he says some stupid things that should obviously give him away—like talking about setting off all the nukes. He's kinda pathetic and a bit of a dumbass sometimes. But, here's the thing about successful manipulators, con artists, and cult leaders: MOST of them are kinda pathetic dumbasses. Cult leaders are idiots. There's a cult leader who preached his followers should be on minimal vegetarian diets, had his chauffeur take him out to a big fancy steak dinner, then told his chauffeur he did that to test his faith—and the chauffeur was like well okay. Cult leaders are idiots, AND YET SUCCEED. When Bill says you can get anyone to hum along with your tune if you've got charisma? He's right—that's true in real life.

Manipulators get away with manipulation not because they tell such brilliant impeccable lies that the most clear-headed rational person in the world would believe them... but because they know to tell their lies to people who aren't clear-headed and rational, and because they know using cheap tricks and false identities and lies that the victim WANTS to be true works better than a flawless story, and because they know most people tend to give other people the benefit of the doubt that what they're saying is probably true.

So yeah, he's too cocky, he's a bit pathetic, he lost a lot, he loses at the end of the book... but that doesn't mean he's a bad manipulator. It means that being good at manipulating can only carry you so far, and Bill didn't have what it takes to carry him the rest of the way.

[deansbite]

　　　　𝒥𝒞　　｡　　drink up, angel

pairings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　afab!reader x demon!dean winchester　,　angel!reader x demon!dean winchester

warnings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　18+ mdni !!　kinktober (ish)　use of nicknames　use of "good girl"　unprotected sex (WRAP IT!!!)　p in v　guilt　degrading　demon!dean (he should have his own warning tbh)　mocking praise　consumption of (demon) blood　sorta virgin!reader (except the vessel isn't)　no prep　descriptive blood　dom!dean　sub!reader

summary　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　despite dean going missing and mysteriously reappearing in the bunker — the thought of him and you together wasn't as bad as you initially thought. Infact, you were probably attracted to it. Despite being the angel everyone expects to be perfect and innocent.

READERS POV

⏝ 𝅄︶ ͡𑁬 ⚠︎ ໒ ͡ ︶𝅄 ⏝

It was unusual. Well, the eerie silence that filled the bunker from top to bottom. Except for when you stood up and took a step. Every tiny noise echoed — you could drop a feather in the Deans empty room and hear it all the way to the library. That was because Dean had the Mark Of Cain and just so happened to die — which caused the fucking mark to turn him to a demon. Not because of possession, no, it was purely Dean controlling his body.

It was no biggie, because the boys got through thick and thin — except there was maybe a little problem.. It was that you guys couldn't exactly help Dean without Dean there.. present physically — right..? And that's exactly what your problem was — Dean was M.I.A. and nobody had a clue on where he was or with whom he was. And that had a whole search party out for him. Castiel, Sam, Jody, Donna.. every and any hunter would call if they saw him.

That lead to why you were babysitting the bunker. If a hunter called, you'd simply fly there. And Castiel couldn't do it due to some struggles he had with controlling his flying.. and none of you guys could afford a fail. You needed some good news. And you agreed so now you were left pacing around the bunker, every step you took echoing through the bunker.

The clanks of your shoe against the pavement weren't as quiet as you'd expected. It was like you could set off an entire earthquake with each step. God — you were so bored you were analyzing everything and observing to the point where you see things you never did before.

For example, you noticed the amount of books that had a bunch of dust particles on their spines, the top edges and at the bottom of them. And — there was one particular wooden plank in the library that when you stepped over, would groan. There was also a continious hum of the fridge whenever you walked into the hallway and past the kitchen. Which would fade out further down and come at a complete stop when you stood infront of Deans room —

Deans room. A frown settled on your face. You weren't familiar with the human emotions — but you presumed this one could be connected to melancholy you think it was. You've read about that somewhere. It was connected to sadness. But you shouldn't know how that feels.

Like, you were a full blown angel. You shouldn't feel human-like things. You weren't exactly on the rocky, terrestrial planet which was earth every single day. This was actually your first time being here for a longer period of time. All you knew before was that it was a solid and active surface with mountains, valleys, canyons, plains and more. But you never explored much and never felt the desire to do so.

Not until you ended up being asked by Castiel to come down a couple of times. And you agreed hesitantly, it incredibly strange. You were in a vessel, that could describe how you'd look if you were human. But you weren't human.. whatever, that wasn't important. What was important was that during the period where he asked for help, you popped in here and there or when the boys prayed. Not every single time because you had your own things to tend too. But they were grateful for the help.

Despite basically being put on the blacklist now for all the angels and heaven due to you deciding to help the Winchester's and Castiel, which both of them had a reputation of killing a bunch of angels — you felt like it was a sacrifice that was up to you to make. Which you felt proud of making. Because checking in here and there became normal and even something you looked forward too, helping everyone — and may or may not aswell as seeing the older Winchester.

You hadn't known or seen him — heard of, yeah but not met until you helped them out. He was a bit rough around the edges, extremely rude toward you at first — because he didn't trust angels. Which was understandable. With time, he warmed up enough to you to pray as a form of communication on occasion. You'd sometimes move around some objects so he knew you heard. You both had a thing that felt very dear to you. You genuinely would get concerned when you didn't hear from Dean at least once a month.

And you didn't know how to feel about it. Because you weren't human. You didn't have the mind to feel emotions, feel what humans felt. You felt numb to most things. It was a scary thing to experience, because imagine being a loyal and obedient angel — a favorited angel, who was also beloved by many. And then you became fond of humanity. All because of a single human. Hell, if you hadn't met Dean and became who you are today, you'd just consider squashing him like a bug. That's how weak he truly was in comparison to you.

But here you were, have you had an idea of what happiness was? Nope. Sadness? No. Anger? What even are these words? Aren't they just here to describe how someone is acting that? Because your perspective of emotions were blurry — because you don't know what they are enough to really care. You didn't have a grasp on what it was, really.

You saw nothing special about them. Until now. Standing at the doorway of Deans room. Pondering and reminiscing. Your eyes flew from one part of the room to another. The sheets untouched but slightly messy and they had the same note Dean gave Sam before he left on the pillow. His handwriting. He wrote it before he willingly left. You just stood there, unsure of what to think or feel. A moment passed before Deans scent finally hit your nostrils. The aftershave smell, his cologne, a hint of alcohol and a bit of a.. cigarette smell that you could tell just in the slightest bit that humans wouldn't tell.

A memory you had that stuck to you. It was one where Dean would put his duffle bag on his desk before lazily throwing himself on his bed, settling in and getting all cozy. Then you knocked, he'd sigh before telling you an almost inaudible little 'come in' and you'd enter. Dean would ask what you were doing before you asked him a couple of questions. And that night you guys spoke the entire night. It was fun.

You'd genuinely do anything to be able to have a repeat of that event.

A sigh escaped your lips before you made your way back to the library. Just to make sure that nobody called during the time you'd been busy daydreaming or whatever. Once you made it, your hands reached out and grabbed the smartphones, clicking their power button so they turn on, just to get nothing. You were about to just place the phone back on the flat, wooden surface — until you sucked in quite a deep breath, inhaling a familiar smell.

You were about to just brush it off as nothing when it got stronger. Your eyebrows furrowed and you blinked. Thoughts filled your head and you turned your head over your shoulder. Nothing. The distinctive smell started to subside. Okay.. maybe your mind was just playing tricks and you were just paranoid after Deans absence.

Until it came back. Hell, you might even have to say stronger than the first two times. And then it hit you. Aftershave, a cologne you couldn't ever put your finger on what it smelt like, a heavy stench of alcohol and smell of sex — jesus christ, the same hint of cigarettes. And you knew this couldn't be a paranoid joke. Your hands grip tightend on the smartphone.

The recognizable voice chuckled behind you. "Sweetheart, I know you know that i'm here. Don't be shy, show me that pretty face." His voice was mocking, maybe even straight up cruel because of how extreme the way he said it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you had goosebumps. You were certainly terrified — unknowing of what could possibly come your way when it came to Dean as a demon.

"I know you can hear me, c'mon. Pretty angel like you doesn't like to take orders? Hm? What if I was God? Told ya too obliderate all of humanity. Wipe the slate clean. Start over. Or told you to fucking look at me because I won't be asking another time." Deans — demon Deans voice boomed throughout the library. The old you would probably be ignoring him. But you weren't exactly 'the old you'. You were.. simply present you.

So, you spun around on your heels, your eyes taking a moment to drag up from his shoes. And then you met his emerald green eyes. Usually they were majestic and amazing to look at. But this wasn't Dean Dean. Because you saw his piercing eyes and the glint of dark, malevolent emerald green eyes. It left you speechless. And not in a good way. Nope, exactly the opposite.

"Uh huh, following instructions all proper. Makin' me feel all high and mighty, sweets." He let out a low chuckle, his eyes observing you. As if he had an idea that you were probably planning on just getting the hell away. He hummed, clicking his tongue. "Not too fast, Mary. We just reunited, I missed you real bad." He frowned — trying to impersonate being sad.

You just furrowed your eyebrows, clearly displeased. "What're you even planning on doing with me?" He shrugged, "That depends on what you want to do, sweetheart. I don't do shit without consent." You scoffed in amusement. "A demon refusing to do something without consent? What is this? A bad dream?" You quickly shut up when Dean simply glared at you. "I take that back." "Good girl." And that made your knees weak. I mean, fuck it was still the same looking same green-eyed man in front of you, with the same deep voice.

But it wasn't exactly him. You knew that. But was it bad a part of you just.. simply couldn't care less? "I don't want you to do anything." He simply let out a laugh. "Sure. You're a prude anyway, d'you even know what there is for me t'do to you? Like I don't know, show you what sex is, stick my fingers in you or my cock while i'm at it. Betcha would like that." You accidentally choked on your spit at that. "Huh?" You said between some coughs.

"Didn't ya hear me?" He asked, skeptical. A moment passed where you just stared at him, all wide-eyed. "I asked you a fuckin' question." He added, stern now. "Oh — I uh, no I wouldn't —" He didn't respond to that, just took step by step, every step slowly approaching you, the wooden floorboards groaning under his newly added weight. "Y'sure? You wouldn't want me t'just turn you 'round and slip in nnice 'n slow. Wonder if you're tight." You just stared at him, lips parted. He smirked, the right side of his mouth tugging upward.

He then decided to simply lean down, his head closer and closer to yours, lips almost touching. You felt his breath on your lips and he most likely felt yours on his. Your eyes slowly travelled down — they lingered over his nose with the small bump — then his cheeks and nose which had the faintest freckles dusted around and finally down to his plump lips. You cleared your throat. "Just say no 'n i'll leave y'alone." He spoke, his tone mocking as always. "But i'm sure an innocent, perfect little angel like you won't accept big, bad demon like me."

You just noticed him lean in closer, your lips basically touching if either you or him accidentally sneezed. "And? No complaints?" He chuckled, in a cruel way — which you hadn't noticed, but even if you did, you probably couldn't really care less. And he dragged it out, obviously. Just sucking in a deep breath, his eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips. You were sure you were slowly coming to a realization on what you were exactly doing.

But before you had any time to exactly protest, his lips came down, clashing against yours. His hand immediately touching you all over.. singular because his right hand was busy wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly to make your airway a bit tighter. But to necessairily cut it off. He chuckled when your lips vibrated against his because you whined in the kiss — but the kiss trapped the noise from being any louder.

"Thought you were a good lil' angel. Seems like the exact opposite. 'Cause I ain't gonna be nice, baby. Gonna bend y'over on the table, fuck y'all nice 'n good, make sure your brain s'all fuzzy 'n fucked out." He promised. Your lips were chasing his as you both had a hot and sloppy makeout. Deans left hand paused at your clothed ass, just squeezing before pulling away from the kiss.

"Bend over the table." He ordered, his right hand leaving your throat and his left hand hesitantly letting go of your ass before he removed it. "But what about the door anyone could walk i —" He shot you a sharp glare, not before blinking and when his eyelids lifted, his eyes were pure black. No iris in sight. Pun not intended. You gulped and just decided to stay intact before turning back around. Mind you, phone still clenched between your fingers.

Dean wasted no time, his hips ground against yours. Around four layers of clothes not providing the friction he gave. His hand went to your lower back before he slowly bent you over. He had a smug smirk on his face as to how easily you followed along with what he made you do. But you didn't see that because your eyes were currently focused on the bookshelves in front of you. All you could do was hear and wait patiently for something to happen.

And honestly — this whole situation escalated so fast it would probably be a blur by tomorrow. As if it never happened and you would be like those.. drunk people you've seen on the television screens and in bars. At least you hoped so, because you were sure fucking a demon wouldn't exactly be a list of things of what to do as a fucking angel. Besides, maybe it was just the way demon Dean attracted you. He was simply Dean.. just less Dean and add some.. more insanity to him.

You were wondering what Dean was doing before you looked over your shoulder, seeing Dean take in the view. Before his right hand landed on your hip. You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth. "Uh-huh, a moment 'go you were all whiny 'n bitchy 'bout me fuckin' ya but now you're all slutty, ain't that right?" He just raised his brows. You just rolled your eyes. "Oh? Gonna act all bitchy again?" He tutted, his left hand going to your hair and his fingers wrapped around a good chunk of your hair, he tugged on it.

"Anythin' ya wanna add?" He sneered. You shook your head. Despite being an angel, you still felt the burn of the hair strands being tugged on your vessels head. "No — no." You managed to get out, he seemed pleased enough. "That's what I fuckin' thought." He let go of the pieces of hair, but his hand shoved your head down onto the table. It wad harsh. "Don't move or I swear t'god y'won't be able too anymore."

And you knew he was not joking so you just let the side of your face rest on the wooden table, your hand let go of that phone and they travelled down to the edge of the table, your hands gripped onto it and you weren't exactly experiences in this — but Dean knew what he was doing. You at least assumed — because you weren't sure how this whole thing would go down. "Will this hurt?" "What'dya fuckin' expect?" His response was filled with irritation.

You wiggled your hips as you just heard his belt clanking as he undid it. All you could do pretty much is just wait because you did not want to disobey Dean. "Y'fuckin' want this, right?" He asked which he then grumbled something under his breath. You nodded before he rolled his eyes. "A fuckin' verbal response please?" "Yeah —" And he immediately continued with what he was doing.

You couldn't see anything so after a little, Deans hands went on your body, his fingers hooked underneath the waistband of your pants. His hands were warm in contrast of your colder skin. He tugged your pants down as fast as he could. He seemed like he wasn't planning on wasting a single second. Because holy jesus the 180 turns that keep taking you by surprise just keep going. You sucked in a breath when Deans fingers now went to your panties. His index teased your entrance through the thin fabric seperating them.

He then — without much warning pulled your panties to the side with the same index finger, his left hand gripping your hip and his calloused thumb after years of hunting and labor scratched your skin a little. You felt something tease your entrance. A gaspy breath escaped Dean from behind you. "Y'feel so wet. Hopefully s'enough t'act as lube." And then you felt him push in. His tip was in and you let out a moan, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled. "Jeez, baby. That fuckin' cunt s'suckin me in perfectly. Clenchin' 'round me real tight, too. Sad your pretty lil' vessel ain't a fuckin' virgin. Woulda enjoyed poppin' two cherries at once." He now pushed in deeper. His right hand went under your shirt, you just now realized because he was groping your boobs, his index and middle finger twisting your nipple as you let out a whine. "Fuck." You exclaimed.

"Real filthy. Never expected an angel like you squeezin' my cock so tight." He taunted, he bottomed out. Your walls clenched around him and relaxed before repeating that action, pants escaped your lips. You could feel every vein, the size of him and the way he almost split you into two. Dean boasted about sex all the time after he slept with girls. You never knew how right he was until now. Because jesus fucking christ you weren't expecting it to feel this good. You were probably zoned out because Dean spanked your ass. "Come back t'me, whore. Stick a fuckin' dick in ya 'n you'll become all inresponsive like a cock whore." He scoffed.

"C'mon, as I was sayin', open up that mouth." He ordered, still deep in you without moving. You fluttered your eyes open, his wrist right in your eyesight. He folded himself over you, his chest flush against your back. His right hand no longer teasing your boobs. Which was probably why his wrist was right in front of you. But it was because he had sliced his skin open a little under. "You're enough of a slut t'take a demons dick. I'll fuckin' move when ya suck on demon blood. Like Sammy, except a pretty lil' thing like y'does it. Drink up, angel." The crimson red substance was right in front of you.

Your eyes widened. "I —" Jesus christ. You were an angel getting dicked down by a fucking demon. You were in far too deep right now. You leaned forward slightly. "That's it, atta girl." He praised, you didn't pay attention to it if it had an underlaying cruel tone under his words. You just focused on the disgusting demon blood you were about to consume. Your lips wrapped around the wound, the iron — y taste immediately sitting on your tastebuds. That's when you didn't even have time to complain about the thick substance you swallowed —

Because Dean pulled all the way out — well, almost because his tip was still in you. Then he slammed his hips forward, you would've moaned had his arm — and blood you were consuming with some dribbling down your chin onto the wooden table — not been muffling you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. "Fuck, shoulda fucked this pussy a while 'go. Was actually thinkin' bout it." He panted and slowly started a harsh, relentless and fast pace from the get go.

You had time to adjust at the beginning, but now he was just careless, fucking away all and every thought you had. At some point, the table was shaking due to the hard thrusts. Your hips were probably gonna be bruised with the edge of the table digging into your skin.

You heard him groan and gasp behind you, a breathy chuckle escaping him. "So much for innocent angel."

That made you whine — well, as best as you could, still lapping up the blood that was basically like a faucet eacaping him. You were being fucked so good and hard — skin slapping against skin echoing — the light creaks of the table shaking and Deans pants were so incrediblely lewd and loud.

It seemed like there was no end in sight. Except you felt something build up in your abdomen — you weren't sure what it was. If you didn't know how to explain emotions, whatever this was you probably couldn't, either.

You were right there. Until the bunker door opened, your eyes widened and you were surprised Dean didn't even try to stop, he just hummed in amusement. "Hey! We're home —" Sam called out with Castiel whispering something to him. "Yeah — I know." Sam said — probably in response to Castiel. Before he started speaking up once more, his boots clanking against the metal staircase.

"Hello? Anyone home —" Sam's voice died in his throat when Castiels jaw dropped. "Oh." Your eyes flew to them as their eyes were wide. "Oh hey, look. We got an audience. Demon fuckin' an angel in front of their friends. Ain't that funny?" Dean kept going, not a care in the world.

You were fucking embarrassed. And that was for fucking sure.

⏝ 𝅄︶ ͡𑁬 ⚠︎ ໒ ͡ ︶𝅄 ⏝

I didn't proofread this shit and i quite frankly do not want too I HATE THIS SO SO MUCH but i gotta feed yall </3

tags: @pearlzier @fallbhind @beausling @deanswidow @gibson-g1rl @dollsltt

amab vers: im too fucking lazy for this rn...... leave me alone

[earlysunshines]

it's (always) you

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: everyone has a set date and time tattooed onto them indicating their date of death. it’s your time soon, so you move out away from the city and end up in a small town and meet a very special girl.

warnings: slowburn, pining, angst ; mentions of death ; making out! making out w mo dani… ; reader has trauma (parents dead or wtv) ; anything else not mentioned ; literally not proofread it’s joever…

a/n: hi mo dani enjoyers i hope u all enjoy i lowk (highk) put a lot of effort into this embrassingly enough so um Yeah pls lmk how u like it ^_^

everyone has a predetermined time and date for their death. whether it’s a natural end or something peculiar, there’s no avoiding it. 

this inevitability applies to everyone. no one can escape this fate—not your friends, parents, and not you. there are no exceptions, no miracles; no one can escape death unless they’re something more than a human. 

as far as you know, you’re very much mortal. there’s a mark on your upper rib that has the date of your destined death in dark ink.

one thing you can escape is your misery, you're not going to spend the last few months of your life cooped up in a cramped, single bedroom apartment. the time you have left is short, so you might as well make the most of it.

before your parents passed two years ago, they entrusted you with a key to a safe, urging you to open it when the time felt right. they died on the same day, figured that going for a swim on their beach trip with you would be a wonderful idea, espeically on their death day. they often joked that they were soulmates, destined to be together. this belief was cemented not only by the matching date tattoos they had, but also by their coincidental placements—your father's mark below his left ear and your mother's below her right. their love and fate were intertwined in a way that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

you wonder if there’s some other universe where you’re all still together, you often wonder about that.

the safe they had given you is in the depths of your storage closet, you had shoved it there when you first moved in and haven’t touched it since – not until now.

it’s placed on your coffee table, you’re sitting on the floor and staring at the key biting the inside of your lip. when the time is right. the words ring in your head and you think, is this it? how do you know?

you don’t have time to wonder if this is the right time, either way, the safe will have to be opened sooner or later. you have exactly seven months, you can’t risk it. besides, you’ve already decided that you’re selling everything you own in your small, claustrophobic apartment and leaving for good – at least until it’s your time. 

you push the key into the slot, turning it to the right and hearing two clicks before the door unlocks. you move your hand over to the little door handle and hesitate for a moment, swallowing shallowly before you open. 

inside, there’s a small shoebox, a little book, and a debit card being held to a note with an old rubber band. it’s a little dusty inside, making you cough when you pull out each item and examine them all closely.

the shoebox is the first thing you reach for. brushing off the dust, you notice the little adidas logo before carefully opening it. your hand flies to your mouth in shock at what you see inside. it’s filled with cash—stacks of bills neatly arranged. you estimate there’s enough to cover your rent for three or four months at least. you can't believe your eyes, staring at the sight longer to ensure it isn’t a dream.

grabbing a stack, you measure its thickness against your finger, finding it to be about half its length. as you flip through, you discover each bill is a twenty. from the color and what you can glimpse in the rest of the box, you notice some stacks start with fifties, more twenties, and you’re almost certain there’s one topped with a hundred. the sheer amount leaves you awestruck, the reality of it sinking in as you carefully examine each stack.

the next item is the little book, you open it to find things worth more than all of the money in the shoe box. 

there are pictures of you as a child, of your parents before you were born, and of the three of you together. as you flip through each page, the photos become more recent. by the time you reach the end, you realize it’s a chronological timeline capturing every moment they could. each image, a fragment of your shared history, leaves you feeling both nostalgic and overwhelmed. a tear slides down your cheek and you don’t even realize it.

the last item is the debit card, you look at it, grazing the material and looking at the slight dust on your fingers after. 

you open the letter, looking closely and reading what’s written:

debit card value: 15000.

y/n, we miss you as much as you do, really. 

we hope this finds you well, and that you have time left.

do what you will with the money, and don’t spend too much time sulking looking at the pictures.

be happy and don’t miss out on anything. make friends, experience more, meet people, maybe even find your own little soulmate. ha.

we love you always, don’t forget it. spend your time wisely, and live life to the fullest – don’t waste out on anything! 

– lots of love, always, mom and dad.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. the ache in your chest is bittersweet, but mainly bitter. 

when you finish reading, a few drops of water stain the paper in your hand—tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. now you find yourself sniffling, holding this piece of love from your parents.

 you pinch your eyes shut, wiping away the tears, but the crying only intensifies. it’s overwhelming – all of it. the countless hours spent staring at the ceiling, missing the two people who raised you, trying to hold yourself together until you had time to grieve. and now, holding this letter, it feels like a fresh wound.

–

you have no clue where you’re headed. 

it took you two hours to stop crying and finally pull out your laptop. before opening the safe, your plan was to find an escape from the city. through squinted eyes, sniffles, and a pile of tissues, you managed to load the website for train and bus tickets. there were various options; one of them was to take a plane to somewhere completely foreign and figure things out there. however, the price was steep, and despite everything, you realized you still had a fondness for your area; a piece of your parents was practically anywhere if you stayed, and you can’t imagine leaving.

so now you’re on a train staring out the window as it departs, watching the buildings in the distance fade into trees and natural sights.

you bought the train and bus tickets because they were cheap and led to the water, ironically enough considering how your parents died. you always loved the beach, and your parents did too, maybe the beach loved them too much. besides the worst incident on the beach, many happy memories often had the beach lingering close, and it had always been a little dream of yours to just laze around someplace nearby it. after the chaos of the city that had surrounded you most of your life, you craved something quiet, mundane, and rural. a serene escape to the beach seemed like the perfect place for your final moments. 

besides, you might as well follow in your parents’ footsteps.

you had fallen asleep on the train, exhausted from the emotional whirlwind. a gentle tap on your shoulder stirred you awake, and you slowly opened your eyes to see an elderly lady gazing at you with concern. 

her kind eyes and soft expression immediately made you feel a bit more at ease. “are you okay?” she asks, voice slightly raspy.

“h-huh? hi, sorry, yeah.”

“you’re not dying today, are you?” she questions worriedly, but looks pretty unbothered despite her inquiry. “at least you didn’t pass sleeping on the train.”

“no, no.” you blink hard, waving your hand in the air as you dismiss her and simultaneously wake up from your four-hour nap. “i have um– a while before that.”

“good, good.” she says, then waves at you. “better get off quick honey, you wouldn’t want to miss your bus, would you? wherever you’re headed…”

“ah, no.”

“the busses in this area take longer since it’s not the city, you better hurry!”

“right, yes. thank you miss.” you nod at her, getting up and putting on your backpack, then grabbing your suitcase. you walk down the aisle, following behind her and getting off.

you check your ticket crumpled up in your pocket, looking at it closely and looking around for the stations. you pass by a small cafe and convenience store as you rush down the corridor, desperately looking for the sign that shows bus ‘11.’

ten minutes pass, your eyes finally find the sign, and five people are getting on to the bus as you catch sight of it. you run as fast as you can, picking up your suitcase during your rush and manage to get to the bus just as the doors had closed. 

you knock on the windows of the doors, the bus driver looks at you, raising his brows and sighing as he presses a button. in no time, the doors fold inwards and you hop on, breathless.

“thank you so much,” you say in between breaths, “i’m sorry.”

he nods, then looks at you expectedly, holding his hand out. “ticket?”

“oh, yes.” you open your fist, giving him the slightly crumpled paper you had in your hand as you ran towards the vehicle. you look at him apologetically, muttering a small, “sorry.” 

the bus driver tilts his head, motioning for you to just get on and find a seat. coincidentally, you make eye contact with the lady from before, sighing in relief and sitting next to her after seeing her pat down the empty space.

“i suppose we’re headed the same way.”

“yeah, what a coincidence.” you breath out, smiling at her. you haven’t smiled in a while, it feels good to do it, and it feels even better when she pats your shoulder and smiles back.

–

an hour later, the bus comes to a stop, and the old lady taps on your knee while you’re ten seconds away from falling asleep. 

“this is where i get off dear.”

“ah, um–” you still have no idea where you’re going – the only think you know is that this bus allegedly leads to the beach, somewhere close at least. something about the lady and seeing her again urges you to follow her, it just feels right. maybe she’ll lead you where you need to go. “--this is my stop too.”

“ah, i see.”

“do you need help with your bags?”

“i’m quite alright dear, thank you.” she says, grabbing her big purse and scooting out after you had done so. 

you follow her out the bus, then admire the scenery around you. 

it’s three in the afternoon and the sun is shining all over, warming your face up. you’re in a small town, there’s the same shops and whatnot that you’d find in the city, but it’s smaller, much more home like, and in the distance you can see bright trees, bushes, and a small trail leading out. your mouth is agape just slightly as you observe and admire; it’s beautiful wherever you are.

“beautiful, right?” the lady is still there, you hadn’t noticed. “your first time here?”

“yeah.” you mumble, turning back to look down at her. 

she smiles warmly and asks, “are you hungry?” you pause, opening your mouth to respond, but no words come out. sensing your hesitation, she smiles again, brushing it off. “you must be tired too. come, i’ll cook you something.”

before you can answer, she’s already heading off, dragging her suitcase in a different direction. with nothing else to do and no plan – you follow her. 

as you walk, you pass various buildings, from quaint shops and cozy cafes to cute bookstores and a post office where elderly men play chess out front. the sight makes you smile without realizing it, a sense of comfort and fondness settling over you for this new place you've found.

it’ll be alright. you think, looking down at the back of your phonecase to see a small picture of you and your parents through the clear material.

–

she leads you to a restaurant down the road, it takes less than ten minutes to get there and only one turn after walking down the same sidewalk.

there are two small wooden tables outside, each with two matching chairs. behind the seating area, a large glass window offers a clear view inside. the window, though slightly worn, proudly displays a sign that reads "lee’s kitchen." through the glass, you can see more seating inside and a front desk. 

everything about this place exudes comfort, from the trees, vines, and bushes that surround it to the cat sleeping peacefully beside a flower pot. the greenery wraps around the building and is highlighted by the sun’s glow, adding to its charm. the calico cat, nestled in a cozy spot, seems to embody the tranquility of the area. you love it already.

she leads you in, a bell ringing when the door opens. 

she points over to a small table by the wall, gesturing you to settle down and relax for the time being. 

“you can place your luggage on the other chair, there won’t be anyone here today.”

“right, thank you.”

“mhm.” she checks the clock on the wall, then smiles. “my granddaughter might barge in, let her know im cooking in the back, alright?”

“yeah, of course. thank you again.”

“it’s no problem…”

“y/n.” you respond. “my name is y/n.”

“lovely name. you can call me mrs. lee. settle down alright?”

“thank you.”

“it’s nothing.” she says, then disappears behind the counter and past the door to the back.

you walk over to the table she had pointed to, setting your bag next to you and leaving your suitcase nearby. you sigh, closing your eyes and then opening them again to look around. near the counter there’s a photo framed of ms. lee, an elderly man, and a younger girl who looks around six years old. looking at the frame you smile. the photo looks a little old, similar to the photos your parents had left you. 

you take in the whole area, illuminated by warm lightbulbs that cast a cozy glow. the tables and chairs, though a bit older, feel comfortable and inviting. the ground is covered in faded dark gray marble tiles, and the seating areas are made of sturdy wood. plants are scattered around, adding touches of greenery. in one corner, there’s a tv that’s turned off. you’re not used to older places; everything in the city was either renovated or styled to look vintage. but this place is different—you can tell it’s genuinely aged with love and care, its authenticity warms your heart.

the bell above the door jingles, you turn your head to see who’s stepped in.

“grandma? are you back? who unlocked the door…” she mumbles the last part to herself, then furrows her brows and clutches her backpack strap when she sees you. “who are you?”

“oh, hi. um, your grandma is in the back, she led me here…”

“huh.” she hums, then shrugs. “i will be back, stranger.”

“um, okay?”

the girl walks past the counter and towards the other door, you assume this area is just the restaurant and their home is inside it. a few moments later, the girl comes back and sits in front of you. she’s changed out of the school uniform she had been wearing earlier and is now wearing an old t-shirt and linen shorts.

she looks at you, narrowing her eyes. “you’re not from here.” she states bluntly.

“i’m not.” you respond, looking back curiously. “you’ve got a good eye.”

“most people from here don’t have more than three piercings on their ear, neither do they have many tattoos.” she points out, her eyes filled with wonder are drawn to the faint flower on your upper forearm with a date printed on it. she tilts her head, widens her eyes a little, then says, “the date on your arm has already passed.”

“it’s my parents’ time, not mine.”

“oh, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright.” you assure. “i’m from the city.”

“ah.” she clicks her tongue. “that’s cool.”

“is it?”

“i’ve heard lots about it, i’ve been once when i was young. it was cool.”

“kinda.” you smile at her, then rub on the ink tattooed on your arm. “did you grow up here?”

she hums. “born and raised!” 

you can’t help but giggle at her energy and curiosity. 

the girl looks about sixteen, quite young. she has a smile on her face now, quickly eager to converse and mingle with the random woman in her… home? restaurant? you’re not sure, but you figure you’ll find out.

“right, that’s lovely. is this restaurant yours?”

“my grandma’s.”

“ah, i see. i like it, it’s nicer than all of the ones in the city.”

“really?” she asks, then smiles wider. “my grandma’s restaurant is the best here.”

“is that so?” you respond cheekily, entertained by her statement. 

before she can respond, her eyes redirect behind you and she lights up completely. she gets up, rushing over and you turn to see her hugging mrs. lee. 

“you’re back! i didn’t think you’d be back so early grandma.”

“well, i’m here. did you eat enough at school? have some bibimbap. i’m worried you haven’t been eating well these days hyein.”

“i’m fine grandma, haerin shared with me.”

“kang’s daughter?”

“yes!” the girl beams – hyein.

mrs. lee walks over to your table and gently places two bowls in front of you. hyein sits back down across from you, eyeing the food hungrily. you look down at the bowl filled with spinach, carrots, beef, string beans, mushrooms, rice, and a sunny side up egg on top. the sauce poured over it makes the dish look even more mouthwatering. you glance up and catch hyein's gaze, which makes you smile. 

her grandmother, mrs. lee, affectionately rubs hyein's shoulder, then yours. you look up in surprise, touched by the simple gesture of kindness. “eat up you two.” she says.

“thank you mrs. lee.” you respond sincerely, then mix up everything in your bowl. the older woman walks away, disappearing behind the counter again.

you take a bite of the food, sighing as you chew and it looks like you’re melting. it’s wonderful.

“told you it’s the best.” hyein shrugs, then takes a bite herself. “i missed this.”

the two of you eat in silence for a bit, it’s nice. you’re eating lunch with the granddaughter of some lady you had met miraculously, and it’s really making you happier than you’ve been the past few months. 

hyein finishes her bite, swallowing and then asking, “so, what’s your name? how did you get here? are you travelling or something?”

she throws a lot of questions at you, you finish your bite before responding, “well, my name is y/n. i took the train and bus here, i don’t really have a plan. i think i’ll stay here as long as i can, it seems right.”

“really? you’re going to be the talk of the town then.”

“am i?”

“yeah, you’re new. everyone here knows everyone, but it’s not a bad thing that you’re new. everyone here is very nice.”

“that’s good.” you mumble, then take another bite.

“where are you staying?”

“probably a hotel nearby, i guess.”

“you’re going to stay in a hotel nearby the whole time?”

“until i can find a place to stay for a bit, not too long.”

“how long?”

you dig at your food, poking your spoon at a mushroom in your bowl. hyein continues to eye you, looking at you deeply and waiting for an answer. you take another bite, then look to the side toward the framed photo hung on the wall.

“until my time is up.”

hyein pauses, looking at the side of your face until you turn back to meet her eyes. her lips part, she doesn’t speak for a bit. you continue, “i have a while though. i’m just… trying to make it through until i can’t.”

“ah. i’m sorry.”

“it’s nothing to be sorry about hyein, it’s natural.”

“right.” she says quietly, then takes another bite of her food. “danielle’s time is up soon too i think.”

“danielle?” you question.

“this girl in town, probably your age. she’s really nice and wonderful, you wouldn’t even know that she’d be dying–” she clears her throat before rewording, “-- that her time is soon. she’s like… a ball of sunshine. you’ll probably run into her.”

“ah.”

“you say that a lot.”

“well what else am i supposed to say?”

“i don’t know.” hyein shrugs, then laughs. “it’s funny.”

you stick your tongue out at her before the two of you start to finish your food again. 

–

mrs. lee insists on letting hyein help you find a place to stay because she apparently is out all the time and knows almost every nook and cranny of the town. 

the closest (and only) hotel in the town is nearby where the bus had stopped. it’s small and seems to be a little on the older side. hyein leads you in, immediately getting greeted by an older man who smiles at her fondly.

“if it isn’t ms. lee hyein.” he grins, then looks at you. “ah, you’ve brought a friend?”

“this is y/n. she’s looking for a place to stay for a bit.”

he looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your tattoo. then he smiles, he has a lovely one. the man has visible wrinkles and dark gray hair, he wears a button up shirt that’s loose on him and chino pants held by a brown leather belt.

“well, that i can help you with ms. y/n.”

“thank you sir.”

“no need for formalities.” he waves his hand, “i know a wonderful single bed room for you.”

“thank you.”

he leads you towards the stairs, there’s no elevator in this hotel. it seems much more like a big home rather than a hotel, at least compared to the city. he leads you to the second floor of the building, then down the hall and to the room right at the end. hyein follows the whole way.

he fishes a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, holding it open for you to roll your suitcase in. you marvel at the sight before you: a well-made queen bed, the perfect amount of space, and curtains drawn back to reveal a distant beach. the azure water glimmers, mesmerizing you. it looks like a pleasant bike ride or a short drive to get there. the room feels inviting, a sanctuary with a breathtaking view. 

“woah.” hyein says, looking out with you.

“it’s beautiful – the beach and the room sir.”

he laughs, then smiles proudly. “im glad you’re fond of it. will you be staying?”

“yes, yeah.” you respond immediately. “it’s amazing.”

it’s more than that, you wish you could live here. waking up in the city gave you the same view of the building next to you, which was boring and nothing compared to the top of the apartments with rent that costed more than a third of your previous paycheck.

–

you spend time settling into the hotel, but not too much. you’re still looking around for a place to stay, the houses aren’t too bad, but you won’t be here long enough for it to be worth buying. 

the apartments aren’t too bad either, but they’re small and cluttered. you’re a bit lost on what you should do, so you spend time exploring the time while you reconsider everything.

additionally, you’ve been over at mrs. lee’s to just lounge and clear your mind. it’s nice sitting by the counter watching the regulars come in and mingle. 

hyein – the sixteen year old girl, basically a child – is your first and only friend at the moment. after school (for her), around three hours past noon, you spend time eating lunch with hyein, talking to her about your current situation and asking her for advice since it’s her hometown.

you explain that the prices are pretty scary, but not too bad, and hyein dismisses your suggestions. 

“those neighborhoods are not as nice as mine, try this area.”

“are there any good places?”

“apartment down the road, but i don’t know… the owner is kind of sketchy.”

“what do i do then.” you sigh, taking a bite out of your cold noodles. “the hotel is pretty and all, but it’s not cheap at all. plus, i don’t think the money i have can keep me going.”

“hmm… i’ll have to ask my grandma.”

you sigh, poking at your noodles again. you hear the bell over the restaurant door jingle, both you and hyein turn your heads to see who’s arrived – just out of curiosity.

hyein's face lights up with surprise and joy as she sees the woman who has just walked in. she jumps out of her seat and rushes to hug her, wrapping her arms tightly around her. the woman smiles with her eyes closed, hugging hyein just as tightly. hyein whispers something you can’t hear, then looks at you and excitedly tugs the woman over to your table.

they reach where you’re sitting and that’s when you notice just how striking the woman is.

your ears twitch and you straighten your posture. the woman has a few moles on the right side of her face, pretty eyes with noticeably long eyelashes, and is smiling at you sweetly. she tucks a strand of hair that isn’t tied up, then greets you, “hi.” her voice is higher than yours, soft, and bright.

“this is danielle, i think i mentioned her.”

danielle. she’s the girl hyein was talking about, she also had little time.

“you have pretty eyes.” danielle catches you off guard with the sudden compliment, you feel your cheeks warm up just a bit. “it’s nice to meet you…?”

you cough. “y/n. it’s y/n.”

“cute name! how do you like the town?”

“oh, it’s lovely.”

“it really is. have you been to the beach yet?”

“i haven’t gotten the time.”

“that’s a shame, you should visit soon when you have the chance.” she says, then turns to hyein and hugs her again. “well, i have to get going. i just wanted to stop by and say hi!”

“do you really have to?” hyein whines.

“i have to help out at the shelter, sorry hyeinie.”

“aw.” hyein pouts. “i’ll see you later then.”

“oh for sure, i was planning on having dinner here with my family sometime this week.”

you watch hyein smile brightly and grab danielle’s hand, leading her back to the entrance, leaving you alone. you continue to gaze after them, admiring danielle’s side profile and grinning to yourself. something about her, just upon seeing her, feels inexplicably right.

as soon as danielle entered your field of vision, something clicked inside you. it’s like a dream, a sense of déjà vu that you can’t quite place. the feeling is both familiar and surreal, as if you’ve known her forever and yet are seeing her for the first time. plus, your body tingles, you feel yourself relaxing and tensing up at the same time, it’s odd; you don’t even know her.

you linger in that moment, captivated by the strange yet comforting sensation that her presence brings.

–

a day later you’re back at mrs. lee’s restaurant, hyein has led you to the back where the kitchen is, then leaves you alone with her grandma.

mrs. lee stands there cutting up some carrots, then says, “i heard you’re looking for a place to stay?”

“yes.”

“have you had any luck?”

“um,” you haven’t had any luck, because each place either had a sketchy landlord (according to hyein) or just didn’t sit right with you price wise and really just with the overall atmosphere. you shake your head. “no, not yet.”

“y/n,” she starts, pausing and setting her knife down. mrs. lee looks at you with an intense gaze, making you feel small despite her being nearly a head shorter than you, and even shorter than hyein. “would you like to stay here?” she asks, her eyes searching yours for an answer.

you freeze, looking at her with disbelief. “w-what? are you serious?”

“we have space for you.”

“i– i couldn’t, i don’t want to be a burden.”

“you could always help out at the restaurant. maybe even help out hyein with her studies or anything like that.”

“really?”

“yes dear. hyein suggested it, she’s really fond of you.”

you continue to gaze at her, stunned by the offer. you wonder if it’s truly okay to live with them, having known them for less than two weeks. it might be a hassle for them to accommodate you. yet, hyein has been keeping you at the restaurant, sharing stories about her day and clearly enjoying your company. her happiness is reassuring; she’s a good friend. 

the offer is incredibly generous—a place to live in exchange for some help. it’s a fair trade, and with the money you have, you could contribute in the best way possible.

mrs. lee still stares at you, waiting for an answer. 

you nod. “i’ll take it, thank you so much. i promise i’ll do anything i can to help and not be a burden.”

she laughs softly, then gestures towards the carrots on the cutting board. “have you ever cooked?” she asks.

“um, yes. my dad used to work at a restaurant.”

“perfect. could you chop these into thin slices? do you know how to jullienne them?”

“y-yeah, of course. let me wash my hands.”

she claps her hands together, looking at you proudly. “and you even know the hygiene policies.”

you smile at her, laughing as you turn on the sink and then excusing yourself when you accidentally splash water on an employees apron. mrs. lee looks at you fondly. she watches you cut the carrots with precision and decent speed, nodding with approval.

–

the room next to hyein’s is a guest bedroom, it’s quite small, but it’s more than enough.

hyein helps you with your luggage, but you assure her that everything is alright. (she still helps you out anyway, at least with your trinkets and whatnot)

you leave the suitcase with your clothes on the ground and unpack your things from your bag, hyein eyes your cd player on the bed, looking at it closely. you catch her staring, then grin.

“you can check it out.”

“really?”

“of course.” you assure. she eagerly sits down on the bed and looks at the small device, turning it around and inspecting each side. you laugh and head over next to her, pulling out a cd from your bag. “here,” you hand it to her. you press a button and it opens something, making hyein’s eyes widen. you place the cd in, then press play. 

an instrumental plays, filling the quiet room with a soft melody. you stare at the ground, humming along slowly. hyein observes you close.

“what’s this?”

“an old chet baker cd, it was my dad’s. he collected many, i tried to bring all my favorites here with me.”

“it’s nice.” hyein mumbles, “the song.”

you flop down on the bed, laying down and staring up at the ceiling. 

“my parents used to cook dinner to jazz, this was my dad’s favorite. my mom is a fan of fred astaire.”

you spend the next thirty minutes playing your favorite songs for hyein, she’s fond of everything you show her. she hears you humming along, and it makes her smile. she’s only known you for a little while, but she can tell you’re one special person. 

–

two weeks have already flown by, and you’ve been working at lee’s kitchen in the meantime. you start early in the morning, continuing until hyein returns home. then, you help her with any studies she needs assistance with. when that’s done, she eagerly drags you to her favorite spots, showing you the best coffee places around to satisfy your cravings, even if it’s a bit late for caffeine.

you've settled into something comfortable, maybe even a routine. if this is how you'll spend your last couple of months, then you're perfectly fine with the mundane. you don't have any siblings, but hyein is what you imagine it would be like to have one. you two bicker the way you've seen others bicker, and you enjoy every moment spent together. despite the three-year age difference, you've grown close quickly, sharing laughs and conversations about anything.

this is when you learn that it’s not time that makes strong bonds, it’s the people and their energy. you’ve known others for years only for them to walk away and drift off in a snap, none of those years added up to what you have with hyein.

she’s something like a sister to you, something like that. maybe a cousin – something familial.

–

“here’s your mandu, sauce, and vegetables. you sure you don’t want anything else?” you ask the customers outside – an older couple, maybe in their thirties or so.

the woman shakes her head, then smiles at you warmly. “thank you, it’s fine, really.”

“right, just let me know if you need anything.”

“thank you.” she says finally. you smile then turn to pick up the dishes left on the other table outside, and also the six dollar tip.

you balance the dishes on one hand, but almost drop them after turning around to see a familiar face, someone you met a few weeks ago. 

her slightly grown out bangs fall over her forehead, parted in the middle. she looks at you with a smile, her pretty brown eyes sparkling. her long eyelashes make her even more striking, she looks like a princess almost, especially with the morning sun shining down on her. danielle waves at you, her smile growing wider, revealing a glimpse of her teeth.

“y/n! hi!” she greets, “i didn’t know you worked here too?”

“hi danielle.” you mumble, “mrs. lee gave me the job a few weeks ago actually, i’m really grateful.”

“ah, i see.”

you nod, then turn your head at the door. “let’s go inside, it’s pretty hot out here.”

“right.”

as you head through the door, you turn your body a bit so that the dishes on your hand can fit through too. danielle follows right behind, then seats herself right at the chair by the counter. she watches you head to the back, then peek out a minute later and pat down your apron. 

you pull out your notepad, then ask, “what can i get you?”

“hmmm,” she pouts a bit as she thinks. “some cold noodles would be great, just a small portion though. could i get some sliced carrots on the side?”

“of course, anything else?”

“your company when you’re done with it, if that’s possible.”

you look up from your notepad, she’s just looking at you with her head tilted and smiling. you swallow lightly, then smile as you respond shyly, “um, i can… do my best. it’s not busy, i’ll ask mrs. lee.”

“great.”

offering one more smile and avoiding eye contact, you rush to the back and give the cooks the order. mrs. lee is cutting vegetables, you hesitantly approach her. she looks up, then smiles at you warmly before handing you small carrot slice. you laugh, moving your head over to grab it in between your teeth and take a bite.

“have you eaten yet dear?”

“no, um it’s nothing though. i just had a question.”

“you should eat soon… and what was it?”

“do you know danielle?”

“marsh?”

“i don’t know her last name… um, she has brown eyes and long lashes. very smiley.”

mrs. lee clicks her tongue. “yes, i know her.”

“right, yeah. she’s here, she ordered cold noodles and–”

“--carrots, her usual.” mrs. lee finishes your sentence. “sorry, what about her?”

“she just… asked me to keep her company.”

“well go on then.”

“oh, really?”

“you haven’t eaten either, go fix yourself something up and keep the girl company. she’s a lovely lady, really. very nice, very bubbly. hyein loves her, everyone does.”

“right.” you nod your head, looking down at the ground quickly before adding, “you’re sure it’s fine?”

“dear, this isn’t the city. it’s not too busy here, especially not right now. i don’t want you starving either.”

“of course, thank you.”

–

danielle waits nearly ten minutes, she’s looking at a magazine on the table before you’re back outside with her dishes. she immediately lights up looking at you, which makes you blush a bit; is everyone here so happy and bright? 

you place her food down in front of her, then run back behind the counter to take off your apron and grab your own dish before sitting down next to her.

“whatcha got there?” she asks, eyeing your bowl.

“just eggs over rice with seaweed and soy sauce, nothing big.”

“looks wonderful,” she grabs a carrot slice with her chopstick and eats it happily. “yum.”

“yeah,” you awkwardly look down at your food before taking a bite. “yum.”

it’s strange, but also oddly comforting. being next to her is stressful at first, both of you simply eat in silence and danielle hums hear and there to let you know how much she enjoys her dish. you find yourself smirking as you eat, but don’t dare to look at her. not until she starts a conversation.

“so what brings you here?”

“sorry, what?”

“to the town.”

“oh.” you say mid bite, then swallow. “just… troubles. i needed to get out the city and… live a little.”

“i love that.” she grins, then takes another bite. 

“thanks?” you let out a little laugh before poking at your egg. “what prompted you to ask me to give you company?”

she shrugs. “i just think you’re interesting, that’s all.”

for some reason, an enamored flutter stirs in your chest. you mutter a small, “ah,” before taking another bite of your food. even after danielle finishes her meal first, she keeps asking you questions, eager to have a conversation. when you finish your meal and hear the bell above the door ring, signaling a customer, mrs. lee suddenly pops out from the back and pushes you back into your seat. danielle giggles, extending your time together.

during your conversation, she learns that you’re an only child, about the tattoo on your forearm that you got because of your parents, and your hobbies. talking to her is surprisingly easy, much easier than with anyone you’ve ever met in the city. there, people shut down small talk, so you eventually gave up. but danielle isn’t the type to give up. she gives you her full attention, which is different than you’re used to.

this urges you to ask your own questions. you learn that she works at an animal shelter owned by her friends’ parents and tends to the pets. she even pulls out her phone to show you pictures of a dog she’s become close to—a fluffy friend named jerry. as she swipes through an album of two hundred photos, her expressions are adorable. it’s heartwarming, and you feel a sense of connection that you hadn’t expected.

“he’s so lovely and playful and–” a notification on her phone cuts her off, you read a bit and it’s a reminder that she has to clock into work soon. she frowns, then apologizes, “agh, i lost track of time.” and so did you, it’s been nearly thirty minutes but it had felt like five. “i should get going, it was great talking to you! hey, if you have time you should come over to the shelter! i can write address for you if you get lost.”

“it’s fine,” you say, already stacking both of your dishes together. “and i’d love to visit.”

“great, i love your company.”

“you do?”

“of course!” danielle giggles again, it brings a smile to your face. “i’ll see you around, okay? promise you’ll visit?”

“yes, yeah.” you mutter, “i’ll drop by.”

“great,” danielle says, then fishes for a marker in her little purse. she grabs your hand, catching you off guard. “can i?” she asks, pointing to your forearm. 

“o-oh, yeah, of course.”

“sweet.” she starts to scribble an address, then a number. you watch closely, then your eyes drift away from your arm to her concentrated expression. she finishes writing and caps the pen again, clapping her hands proudly. “i also put my number just in case, text me if you need!”

“thanks danielle.”

“you can call me dani! since we’re friends now.”

friends. it makes you happy hearing it, you’re friends after a single conversation with her. 

“alright, thanks friend.” your response earns a snicker from danielle, she’s shaking her head and smiling at you again before saying,

“you’re funny, i like you.” it sends another flutter in your chest, you gulp. “see you!”

“bye dani!”

she waves at you again before heading out the door, eliciting a jingle sound throughout the restaurant. you keep staring at the door, stuck in place until you feel a tap a your shoulder. 

when you turn around, mrs. lee is beside you looking at the door and smiling.

“she’s a very sweet girl.” mrs. lee says, then looks up at you.

“yeah, i can tell.”

“she seems to be fond of you.”

“really? that’s good…”

“i’m glad you’re making friends y/n. you can’t hang around hyein forever…” she jokes, it makes your cheeks burn from embarrassment. you’re nineteen very much an adult, the revelation that your closest and only friend is a sixteen year old girl who’s currently in class. 

you laugh, then shyly mumble, “thanks.”

–

later that evening, you and hyein head out to explore. you mention your conversation with danielle, and the girl walking next to you beams, evidently delighted. 

you suggest walking to the animal shelter where danielle invited you to visit, and hyein lights up at the mere mention. she jumps up and exclaims, “yes!” before grabbing your hand and leading you down the road with infectious enthusiasm. it seems that danielle spreads all kinds of joy and excitement wherever she goes. how lovely. 

the two of you make it there in no time, the ten minute walk seemed like nothing, somehow.

it’s a small building, but it looks incredibly charming from the outside. the wooden framing and exterior give it a warm, cozy feel, and the little sign reading “kang’s kare shelter” makes you smile. the place exudes a welcoming vibe, and you can only imagine how much lovelier it must be inside, especially if danielle is there too.

walking in, you’re greeted by someone who isn’t danielle.

instead, it’s a girl who lights up after seeing hyein, who runs behind the counter to hug her. 

“haerin! surprise!”

“what are you doing here?”

hyein pouts, parting away and groaning, “you don’t sound thrilled.”

“pftt, you’ll just steal the snacks i bought.”

“hey! i’m also here to see the animals… and you i guess.”

the girl—haerin, presumably—rolls her eyes at hyein with a snarky grin. then she looks at you, tilting her head as you walk over and stand across the counter. hyein perks up when she sees you, dramatically gesturing with both hands as she introduces you.

“this is y/n! she just moved here from the city.”

“y/n?” haerin questions.

“that’s me.”

“oh, danielle mentioned you earlier. your eyes are nice...”

“what?” you raise a brow, confused.

the girl shrugs, then mumbles, “nothing.” she walks out, tilting her head to urge you and hyein to follow her. “come, i’ll show you the pets. danielle is doing a check-up on the only client—er, animal—we have.” she explains, then looks at hyein from the side, raising her brows with fake annoyance. “and hyein, i know you’re only here for jelly.”

“you know me too well.”

“whatever…” haerin sighs, opening a door to a room with three cats inside.

hyein gasps, looking at them all in awe. in a gentle voice, she fawns, saying “awww” and immediately running over to crouch down and pet the black cat by the window.

haerin walks over to the cat in the corner, clicking her tongue softly. the cat looks up at her and immediately walks over, rubbing its head against her hand. haerin smiles, petting it with care and affection.

you make your way to the orange cat sitting on a small chair, clearly designed for pets. you crouch down, gently stroking its fur. the cat stirs awake from its slumber and meows contentedly, making you smile. the room feels warm and peaceful, filled with the quiet sounds of purring and the soft rustle of fur. 

after a minute or two of admiring the furry creature and snapping a few pictures, you catch haerin in your peripheral crouching down next to you, her eyes on the cat as she pets it too. 

“danielle is in the room down the hall, just to let you know.”

“hm?” you turn to face her, she’s still petting the cat. 

“go out the room and turn right, she’s in the room two doors down. she’s just doing a check-up. you can go see her if you want."

“oh, thanks.”

haerin turns to look at you. “have fun.” she mumbles, then brings the orange cat in her arms, looking at it like it’s her child.

you look over to see hyein sitting against the wall, all her attention is on the two cats that have found their way to their laps. you snap a quick picture before leaving the room.

your heart quickens with anticipation as you walk down the hall. you follow haerin’s directions and gently push open the door to find danielle tending to the same dog she had shown you earlier—jerry, who’s cuter in person. danielle is focused on the task at hand, using a stethoscope to listen to jerry's heartbeat, then checking his ears and gently inspecting his paws.

you hesitate for a moment before knocking softly on the door. danielle doesn't notice at first, but when she finally looks up and sees you, her face lights up with surprise and joy. her smile is radiant and contagious, you’re smiling too.

"y/n!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling. "you came!"

“of course, i mean, you invited me.”

“aw, how sweet of you.” she says, then mumbles a, “lay down” and “stay.” to jerry, who does just as he’s told.

she walks over to you, then grabs your wrist without warning and it makes your heart skip a beat for some reason. she leads you over to the chair in the room and sits you down.

“did i bother you and jerry?”

“no, not at all. we’re almost done actually.” danielle assures, then turns back to tend to jerry.

you watch her work her magic, finishing up the job and giving him a treat after he’s done. she pats his head and helps him off the counter, he immediately rushes over to you and jumps up to lick your cheek.

“ah–” his tail is wagging, paws on your knees, and licking you sloppily. 

“heyy jerry! i’m so sorry… he’s very excited to see you.”

“i’m glad,” you mutter through the outburst of affection. “does that mean i’m on his nice list?”

“everyone is,” she answers, watching you stand up so you can pet jerry without being bombarded with kisses. “but he’s never this excited. you’ve got some magic y/n-ie.”

the little nickname makes you smile harder, and jerry is jumping up so his paws claw at your pants more. danielle shakes her head in disapproval, but she’s still smiling as she calms him down.

you crouch to meet his level again, scratching behind his neck and petting him. you look up at danielle, who’s already looking at you.

“what breed is he?”

“burnese mountain dog, very affectionate dogs.”

jerry licks your hand, making you laugh. “that’s given.”

danielle crouches down next to you, she turns her head and it makes you nervous when your faces are so close together. she turns back to face jerry, fondly petting him. “he’s a very good boy, isn’t that right?” jerry barks in response, making her chuckle. “well, it’s time for him to rest. i gave him some medications earlier.”

“i see.”

“follow me.” she says. you nod.

you follow her into the next room, where danielle gently opens the door. jerry trots in and immediately heads to his cozy bed in the corner. danielle crouches beside him, her movements tender and reassuring. she lovingly pats him and plants a soft kiss on his head, which makes his tail wag slowly and then come to a gentle stop. with delicate, practiced motions, she scratches behind his ears and along his neck, using just the tips of her fingers. her soothing touch gradually calms him, and soon he’s lying comfortably, breathing evenly, and blinking slowly as he drifts into a state of peaceful relaxation.

her care and tenderness are genuinely admirable. the gentle, focused expression on her face as she tends to jerry mirrors the soft, loving way she interacts with him. it’s really cute. there’s a quiet grace in her movements and a warmth in her eyes that draws you in. you find yourself watching her with the same kind of admiration and affection she shows jerry, mesmerized by the serene connection between them.

she turns over to you, faintly mumbling, “hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“wait outside for me, would you? he’s a bit excited because you’re here. this guy here needs some rest.”

“oh– yeah, of course. sorry.”

“it’s fine, i won’t take long.”

you nod, giving her a soft smile before heading out the door.

as you take in the interior of the shelter, your gaze lingers on the wall adorned with photos of danielle, haerin, and their colleagues with the animals. 

the pictures capture moments of joy and affinity—danielle’s pretty smile beside a playful puppy, haerin laughing with a contented cat on her lap. solo shots of the animals show their distinct personalities, while group photos feature jerry with his companions, their expressions curious. there’s also some pictures that show the other employees together with the animals.

 the collection is heartwarming and conveys a sense of community and care. you find yourself smiling softly, touched by the genuine affection and dedication displayed in every frame.

the door opens in the corner of your eye, you turn and catch danielle peeking in as she closes it slowly. 

“he’s asleep now.” danielle walks over to you, head tilted up just a bit. “i’m all yours now.”

the way she words everything is dangerous, it flusters you. she smiles like she hasn’t just formed a lump in your throat, making you cough to clear it.

“is he alright?”

“just inflammation and a bit of pain, he should be fine in the morning.”

“that’s great to hear.”

“it is.”

you stare at her for a little longer, struggling to find words to say. she beats you to it.

“did hyein tag along?”

“yeah, i was afraid i’d get lost.”

danielle giggles. “aw, she’s very sweet. her and haerin are close.”

“are they?”

“they go to school together, best friends.”

“that’s lovely.”

“mhm.” danielle turns her head in the other direction, putting her hands behind her back and holding her hands together. she bites the inside of her lip, then tilts her head, urging you to follow her.

“let me show you something, it’s better than the city i bet.”

you snicker, looking at her with raised brows. “you seem pretty confident.”

“trust me.” she starts to walk down the hall, taking a turn and leading you to sliding door. she opens it, stepping outside and you follow. 

immediately, your jaw drops at the sight in front of you. it’s similar as the sight from the hotel you stayed in, giving you a view of the beach, but it’s prettier from this spot. 

“woah.”

“is it better than the city?”

“for sure.”

danielle leans against the railing, gazing out at the sky. “this is the view i get to see everyday, i love it. i’m glad you came over, i wanted to show you this.”

“thank you, really.” you walk over to lean against the railing next to her, looking out as well. “you’re really sweet, like so sweet. i feel at home, you and everyone here are really welcoming.”

“well,” danielle starts, she’s facing you now. she looks at the side of your face, tracing down each feature before continuing, “a lovely person deserves a lovely welcome.”

—

haerin locks up the shelter, pulling on the door to ensure it’s fully locked. she turns around to shoot a small smile at danielle, holding a thumbs up.

“good to go.”

“great!” 

the two walk down the road together, their route home is the same since danielle lives with haerin and her family. the two walk in silence for a bit, silence never hurts at all. they’ve been close since birth, and plus, haerin is just quiet, usually the listener. 

but this time haerin is a bit curious, looking at danielle, who’s staring up at the sky. the sun has nearly set all the way.

“what did you and y/n do?”

“hm?” danielle turns her head. “oh, she met jerry!”

“ah.” haerin hums. “you seem very interested in her.”

“just curious.”

“hyein seems to like her a lot. city girl is interesting.”

danielle snickers at the nickname. “pftt, city girl…”

“well, city girl seems to be interested in you too.”

“she’s new and hasn’t mingled with many, it’s natural for her to do that.”

haerin shakes her head, then kicks a rock on the ground. “no, somethings different. same goes for you too.”

“what?” danielle’sbrows furrow slightly in confusion, but a soft giggle escapes her lips. 

“you’re so eager to get to know her, you talked about her a lot today too. you’re not that talkative about people like that, not even with minji or hanni.”

danielle tilts her head, her eyes filled with a mix of amusement and curiosity, clearly trying to make sense of the unusual comment. “right,” the giggle lingers, a gentle sound that reflects her bemusement. “i don’t know, she’s just interesting. as soon as i met her she caught my eye, when i ran into her the first time it just… felt right?” danielle shrugs, sighing in a somewhat dreamy way. “i don’t know, i just think we could be good friends. she’s really sweet, and pretty too. i wonder if all city girls are that… ethereal.”

haerin just looks at her and narrows her eyes, then shrugs it off. 

“whatever.”

–

mrs. lee gives you a day off, urging you to go out more by yourself instead of being around hyein. you hesitate when she tells you the night before, wanting nothing more than to help out with opening and share some small talk with her, but she shakes her head.

“you haven’t even gone to the beach, have you? you’re missing out… get out there. it’s prettier in the morning, you should sleep now before you miss the sunrise.”

this is how you find yourself out on a less than fifteen minute run through various neighborhoods and trails that you haven’t seen yet, and towards the sand in your vision.

the sky is still a soft gradient of dawn, with the first rays of sunlight just beginning to peek over the horizon. the sight of the sun emerging from behind the water casts a golden hue across the scene, and you can’t help but quicken your pace. your sneakers hit the sand, and you pause to slip them off, savoring the cool, grainy texture beneath your feet. you start walking down a natural trail, bordered by tufts of grass and delicate wildflowers. 

the serenity of the moment, along with the gentle morning breeze, fills you with a sense of calm. 

you can’t help but think that your mom and dad would love it here, with you, all of you together.

a sigh leaves your lips as you sit down on the sand, propping yourself up with your hands behind you and sitting with your feet out. you’re pretty far from where the waves crash and wet the sand, making sure you can’t get splashed. 

you grab the small backpack you had brought along, it only has a waterbottle, your cd player, and headphones inside. you empty it, setting the cd player on your lap, putting on the headphones, and taking a sip of water. 

jazz hums in your ear, making you smile.

yeah, your parents would love the sight.

the sun is peeking out more now, a third of it above the horizon. the rays of sun hit your face and it feels refreshing, something also clashes into you all of the sudden, making you yelp.

“jerry!” you hear from the distance.

a second later, there’s a dog licking your cheek and nuzzling itself into you, clearly excited to have run into you. you turn and catch jerry stepping back, looking at you with eager eyes and a wagging tail. you can’t help but laugh, reaching over to pet her.

“well look who it is.” you mutter softly, “miss me that much?”

jerry barks, then you catch danielle in the distance jogging up to you too. you stare a little hard at her, she’s wearing a cropped baby tee and jean shorts. her hair is being blown in her face by the wind, so she pushes a few strands behind her ear. she looks really pretty, that’s what you notice.

“i’m sorry about that,” danielle apologizes, crouching down to affectionately scratch jerry’s ears and neck. “you, mister, need to learn some manners.” she scolds playfully, giving him a pouty, angry look. 

you can’t help but laugh. “hey, it’s a lovely surprise to see jerry, don’t be too harsh on him now…” you reach to pet him too, hand accidentally brushing against danielle’s – but who’s paying attention to that.

(you are.)

“it’s a surprise seeing you here, y/n.”

“same here – i mean, you know, seeing you.” you watch her sit down next to you on the sand, patting down on the sand to urge jerry to sit right in between you two. “mrs. lee gave me the day off, she recommended the beach in the morning.”

“she has a good eye.” danielle softly strokes jerry’s fur. “whatcha listening to?”

“chet baker, heard of him?”

“i have!” she nods. “i like a few of his songs.”

“really?”

“mhm, lovely voice, beautiful melodies.” she says, now looking at the rising sun. “can i listen with you?”

"oh! yeah, of course." you unplug your headphones and press the play button on the side of the device, upping the volume to let the melody fill the air.

danielle's ears twitch slightly as she lights up with recognition. "i know this one!"

"it's pretty popular. it was my mom’s favorite," you mumble, humming softly to the beginning of the song. the tune is gentle, slow, and oddly intimate, perfectly matching the mood of the moment.

"oh, i love this part," danielle mutters before starting to sing along softly, "wherever you are~ you’re near meeee~ you dare me to be untrueee."

you giggle softly, your lips curling into a smile as you watch her, bathed in the early morning sunlight and looking so genuinely happy.

turning back to face the view in the distance, you join in, "funny each time i fall in loveeee"

both of you face the sun, but as the last lyric of the verse plays, you coincidentally glance at each other and sing together, 

"it’s always youuu”

laughter bubbles up between you, light and giddy, warming your hearts. there's something about danielle that makes you feel relaxed and content. you stop giggling for a moment to simply smile at her, and she mirrors your expression, both of you basking in the shared joy of the moment. you wonder how long a human can go without their heart beating or without breathing.

“danielle,” you almost whisper, gazing softly. “you have a really lovely voice.”

“aw, don’t be silly.”

“i’m not.” you roll your eyes, looking back at the sunrise. danielle continues to stare at the curve of your features. 

“you’re not bad yourself.”

“that’s a lot coming from you, thank you michael buble.” you response makes danielle laugh hard, which makes you laugh even harder, the two of you are laughing like idiots in the sand as the sun comes out into full view.

danielle’s fingers run softly over the fur on jerry’s head, his blinks get slower. you look at him adoringly, petting his back.

“how long have you known him?”

“jerry?”

“who else would i be referring to…”

“harsh.” she frowns, making you scoff playfully. “a few years – since he was a puppy. we found him as a stray, he’s been in the shelter since.”

“i see. you must love him.”

“i knew him before i graduated high school.” danielle says, then looks at jerry lovingly. “he’s basically my son.”

“that’s cute.” you mumble. “you guys are really cute.”

danielle looks up at you, and for a moment, her eyes seem to sparkle. maybe it's just a trick of the light, but there's something about her gaze. she carries a natural grace, not just because she’s breathtakingly gorgeous, but because everything about her exudes warmth and ease. with danielle, there’s no room for worry or doubt. despite only knowing her for basically two days  -- maybe less – she’s like someone you've known for years, even decades. she's sweet, kind, and caring; the latter.

it's hard to put into words, but there's something extraordinary about her. she’s just so...

“beautiful.” you didn’t mean to say that out loud, or continue to stare at her until the words processed in your head and you had turned away, flustered.

danielle looks at you in surprise, then laughs and tilts her head in confusion. “what?”

“sorry, nothing– the song–” clearing your throat, you point to the cd player. “it’s beautiful.”

“yeah.” danielle agrees, looking you in the eye.

–

you spend the rest of the day together, with danielle insisting, "you're so interesting," and expressing an urge "to get to know someone as cool as you more." 

she leads you to her favorite café by the beach, enthusiastically offering to pay for the coconut latte, which she claims is the tastiest item on the menu. trusting her judgment, you take a sip, and the flavor lives up to her hype. danielle claps her hands and beams with delight when you give her a look and sigh of satisfaction after the first sip.

as the day progresses, she continues to show you around, her excitement palpable and infectious. her genuine enthusiasm helps you feel even more at ease in this new place. you can’t help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging, all thanks to her. it’s strange, but you don’t really dwell on it. with danielle, everything just feels right.

–

you had watched the sun rise and set with danielle, spending the entire day together, though it felt like only an hour or two had passed. 

when you get back home, you flop onto your bed with a happy sigh. before you know it, someone barges into the room, then jumps and lands next to you on the bed. the mattress peaks and pushes you up with the combined force of gravity and the added weight.

you turn to see hyein looking at you with a knowing look, her brows raised and a stupid  smirk on her face. "so," she begins, her tone dripping with playful curiosity, "how was your date with danielle?" she nudges you with her elbow, clearly fishing for details. 

you sit up and look at her with a confused expression. “date? no, we just spent some time together.”

“haerin tells me it was from sunrise to sunset…” she nudges your shoulder playfully and you push her away. you can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes at her antics.

"it wasn’t a date, i’ve known her for less than a week." you say. “we literally just spent the day together.”

the realization hits that you’ve never spent the day together with anyone other than your parents, even your late friends. you’ve gone hours with them and had sleepovers, but this isn’t the same.

“i bet it was a wonderful day.” hyein’s grin widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “seems like sunshine lady and city girl have hit it off.”

“w-what?” you snicker, laughing at the stupid nicknames. “sunshine–? city–? you’re genuinely a child. is that what you call us?”

“haerin made them up.”

you roll your eyes at hyein, who’s pushing you and asking for more details. her excitement is infectious, and you find yourself smiling even more, the memory of the day’s events replaying in your mind. danielle’s laughter, her genuine curiosity, the way she made everything feel so effortlessly right. as hyein continues to tease and prod for more details, you realize just how special this day has been.

danielle made time feel like nothing, which is a bit dangerous considering you don’t have a lot of time to begin with.

she had shared a lot of her likes, dislikes, life stories, and so much yet so little. you wanted to know more, you wanted her to ramble your ear off. 

something that had caught your attention was the brief mention that she lived with haerin because her parents had passed away a few years ago. it brought some sorrow to you just from learning that, but some ease because she’s similar to you.

you briefly go over everything, and lastly you tell the younger girl beside you that danielle had given you her number, making hyein squeal.

“you have mo dani’s number?”

“mo dani?”

“nickname… you’ll know later – probably. you’re still new, but everyone knows the majority of her nicknames, she has a lot– ah! that’s not important. anyways–”

you chuckle at hyein shaking your head as you pull out your phone to show her your new lockscreen. it’s a picture of you and jerry down at the beach, one danielle had taken because she thought you two had looked adorable. the moment made you all nervous and blushy, but you don’t tell hyein that.

“i just wanted her to send this picture, isn’t he cute?”

“he’s adorable! oh my gosh let me tell you this funny story…” hyein starts, and you smile to yourself knowing that you’ve managed to change the subject. you don’t know how much teasing you can take from the menace in front of you.

–

you put an effort to visit danielle at least a few times a week after work and helping hyein out with assignments. 

danielle is always happy to see you and converse while assisting her patients, you even help out with cleaning the instruments and area despite her trying to stop you. she insists it’s okay, but you’re willing to shut her down just to help.

hyein and haerin have a field day with you two everytime you’re together within their radius. they catch you two conversing, you staring at the patients – but mostly the woman helping them out – while danielle treats them, and the playful bickering and time spent together.

“they’re so cute… if only y/n wasn’t a loser.” hyein sighs, peeking at you two as you play with jerry.

“if only danielle could come to her senses.” haerin mumbles.

in return, danielle does her best to become a regular at lee’s kitchen. she’s there every other day — sometimes she’s they’re consecutively — for breakfast or even during her lunch break, though usually in the mornings because the restaurant is a bit of a walk from the shelter.

both of you spend time eating together because mrs. lee is generous, which makes you wonder if hyein had convinced her to let you slack off.

you find out that danielle has a weird, but cute obsession with carrots. each side she orders gets bigger, and she even ends up getting double the sides to the point that the amount of carrots she’s eating is more than the actual dish she orders. you marvel at this, even sending her off to work with a container of sliced carrots or giving her some each time you see her.

–

the library is a thirty minute walk from where you stay, haerin had recommended it to you because she assumed you’re “the type of person to spend time in a library for hours – willingly.” you didn’t know whether that was a compliment or not. 

it’s been over three months in the town, you’ve made friends and grown quite fond of a special, bubbly girl – but you’ve never stepped foot in the library somehow. 

walking in, you’re greeted by someone around your age, maybe a little older. she’s a girl with long dark hair, straighter than danielle’s. she’s wearing a button-up shirt and long linen pants, black frames sitting on her nose bridge.

“hi, welcome–” she pauses, looking at you closely. “–you’re… are you y/n? ah, i’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“oh, yeah. how did you–”

“danielle.” right, danielle, because it’s very normal and totally not making you overthink and flush at the thought of her talking about you to others. “she mentions you a lot, showed us a picture of you and jerry.”

“us?”

“me and our other friend hanni, she’s out and about right now though. anyways, would love to talk more, but there’s lots to do. everything is sorted out by genre, but if you need a certain book, you can look it up on the database and use the numbers to help you out,” she explains. her voice is very smooth, and she speaks with casual ease.

you nod, appreciating the information while trying to process the fact that danielle has been talking about you. 

as you wander through the shelves, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her sharing your picture with her friends. however, you’re also a bit embarrassed because she has a lot of questionable pictures of you, ones you don’t look the best in. the warmth in your cheeks persists, but it’s a comforting kind of warmth, one that makes you feel a little valued.

your fingers graze each book, you’re just browsing around without thinking much of it.

past a few bookshelves there’s a small corner where light seeps in through a big window, and it gives a good view of the buildings across from the library. you notice a small book on the ground, narrowing your eyes at it and walking over to pick it up.

‘timestamps and twinflames’ the title is intriguing, so you find the nearest stool and open the book up.

the first page goes over the background of the book, something about a survey and observed data with various pairs that have a different relation and relationship to each other. it states that it’s a collection of family members, friends, and couples.

“a twin flame is a concept in spiritual and metaphysical beliefs that refers to an intense soul connection with someone thought to be a person's other half. it is often described as a deep, powerful bond that goes beyond physical attraction and emotional compatibility. 

in this book, we’ve found puzzles with only two pieces, brought the pieces together, and found out their unique traits and connections.

along with this, we’ve noticed a trend with their date of death’s tattooed on them, including the time and placement.”

as you read through, everything reminds you of your parents.

“people run into each other for a reason, everyone’s interactions aren’t coincidences, they’re fate. not just death is calculated by the universe, but opportunities and decisions are influenced by it too in order for individuals to meet their ‘twin flame.’ 

3% of the worlds population – that have been reported and known – have met their twin flame. most of the time it’s romantic, however platonic twin flames exist as well. many of the reports have been of romantic partners, who fit seamlessly and complement each other well. 

the chances of meeting one’s twin flame is very low, and individuals only have one twin flame. some people have twin flames from across the world, so it simply cannot happen. however, there are theories that twin flames meet in other universes, and it’s often depicted in media and literature. it’s not possible to find out if this theory is true, unfortunately. 

twin flames always have the same timestamp of death, there are no exceptions to this – we’ve concluded.”

you’re deep into the book, absorbing every word. the information you've just read resonates a little too well with your parents' story. you never realized there was an entire study dedicated to this phenomenon. you had always considered your parents' meeting, falling in love, and the serendipitous timing of their lives as just a beautiful coincidence, nothing more. it was something out of a movie that you had always found crazy. but now, you see them as more than a mere coincidence; they’re a pair meticulously chosen and brought together by the universe itself – the universe. 

"most individuals report similar experiences upon first meeting their twin flame. regardless of age–from adolescents to the elderly–the accounts share strikingly consistent themes:

when twin flames meet, there's an immediate sense of familiarity, as if they've known each other before, despite never having met. this uncanny recognition often comes with a profound feeling that something has clicked into place, filling a void they never knew existed.

many describe a peculiar sensation coursing through their bodies, a blend of exhilaration and tranquility, as if time has momentarily stopped. in that instant, everything becomes more comprehensible, and the world seems to align in a way that it never has before."

“hm.” you look at the page, your fingers running along each word as you read.

you felt a “peculiar sensation” and “exhilaration and tranquility” when you met danielle. you shake your head – it can’t be, that’s ridiculous. you don’t even have enough time to live and fulfill your time with a twin flame, why would the universe throw one at you? 

the question doesn’t stop you from considering that it could be true, but maybe you’re just searching for something to make your last few months more meaningful. it’s a 3 percent chance of meeting your twin flame, and your record of being lucky isn’t the best.

(plus, your parents probably took all that luck away from you, it can’t possibly happen two generations in a row.

it doesn’t stop you from thinking that if danielle were your twin flame, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

you’d love it.)

and just as if the universe had alerted danielle you had thought of her, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you reach down to pull it out, looking at the notification from her.

[danielle]

hi!

i just got off work :-)

are you busy?

i was wondering if you wanted to grab smoothies by the beach?

if you’re not busy of course…

you smile, unlocking your phone and responding immediately.

[y/n]

i’m not busy at all!

i was just reading at the library

i met your friend minji

i’ll meet you down at the beach? down by the cafe

[danielle]

yay! 

that sounds perfect y/n-ie ;-) 

can’t wait to see you! tell me about minji when we’re together

also, jerry won’t be joining us :-( he’s a very sleepy boy today

–

danielle arrives a little later than you, you take the time to buy her a smoothie while you had waited. one lychee smoothie for you, and a mango one for her – she had mentioned how much she liked mangos, and you made sure to ask for an extra carrot in the smoothie, earning a weird look from the worker.

you sit down outside on the steps, staring out at the beach until someone creeps from behind.

“hey!” danielle greets, putting both hands on your shoulders. you turn to look at her, rolling your eyes.

“you scared the life out of me.”

“that was the plan~” she sings, putting her hand out for you to take, urging you up. “you bought the smoothies already?”

“mhm, there’s a carrot in yours too, thought you’d like it.” the way her lips curve even more answers that remark. “let’s find a spot.” you insist.

she softens her gaze before nodding, you feel your heart pound against your chest

a tank top hugs her frame perfectly, its floral pattern complementing the dark linen shorts she wears. her sandals help her walk on the sand with ease as you both stroll along the beach. her hand is still intertwined with yours, and you feel your breath hitch when her grip tightens. 

“so, how was your day?” she asks.

it’s a routine, you and danielle meeting up just because you two simply enjoy being around each other. she always asks you first, you rarely beat her to the chase.

“normal as always.”

“oh come onnn, tell me about everything.”

“it was just the usual dani.” you state, sipping on your smoothie. “we had breakfast and then um… oh, haerin’s mom came over and said hi. uhhh hyein didn’t have any homework so i went to the library, i think she’s hanging out with iroha or something. i met your friend minji, she tells me that my name is in your mouth…” you look at her with raised brows, expecting an answer.

“i– you know…” she looks down at the ground, kicking the sand. “we spend a lot of time together – i like spending time with you. of course i’m going to tell my friends about you silly… anyways, what did you do at the library? did you hang with minji?”

shaking your head, you respond, “no, she was busy. i read this book though, almost two hours passed… i was so into it.”

“what a lovely book… you have to show it to me sometime! we can even visit minji together!”

you grin at the thought, you’d do anything if she were there with you.

“yeah, that would be great. also, the book kind of had me thinking…” you stop in your place, looking at her. 

danielle stops too, then looks at you with a tilted head. “yeah?”

“do you think soulmates– well, something more than that.”

“like what?”

“twin flames.” you mutter, then turn to look at the sea. “do you think they’re real?”

her features deepen with skepticism. “what?”

“like, i don’t know. i was reading the book and it was talking about people who were like, perfect for each other. you know how everyone has a destined death date? the book was talking about how everyone also has a destined person.” you explain, then lead her over to a nearby bench. 

she sits down next to you, thinking to herself. “i’ve only seen that in movies, do you think they’re real?”

“i think my parents were twin flames.”

“is that so…”

“yeah, “ you mumble, taking a sip of your smoothie. “i told you that they had the same date of death right? well the book was saying that twin flames are like that. and plus, everything in the book i read resonated with them. i think they’re real.”

danielle, stares at you for a moment. you’re leaned against the bench and staring closely at the ocean. 

“i think that’s a beautiful concept.”

“yeah,” you look at her again. “it’s wonderful.”

you two go silent, then you ask her how her day was to clear the strange tension in the air. your upper rib stings a bit – right where your mark is – but you ignore it as danielle tells you about a patient she had to calm down, a small kitten that had scratched her.

she ends up scooting a little closer, her shoulder touching yours until she’s leaning against you.

your mark stings again until you put your arm around her, keeping her close.

–

later, when the sun is setting, both of you stand by the wet part of the sand. the waves crash onto it, wetting your feet in the process.

danielle kicks some water towards you, it splashes against your lower legs, making you groan. you splash water towards her, hitting so aggressively that water splashes above her knee and hits the edge of her shorts.

“oh it’s so on.” she says, running towards you. you start to rush away, but she manages to splash you right on the back of your thigh, making you yelp.

“hey!”

“payback!”

“you started it!”

both of you end up kicking more water at each other, shouting and laughing in the process. she runs away to tie her hair up, then rushes back and leaps onto you, grabbing hold of your arm. she pulls you deeper into the water, which rises from your ankles to your knees.

“hey, wait–”

“scared of the water?” danielle snickers, her playful brown eyes sparkling and her teeth glowing in a wide smile.

you groan, shaking your head. “oh, shut up.”

the whole ordeal escalates as she uses her hands to splash water onto you, soaking your shorts and the bottom part of your oversized t-shirt. you scowl at her, then grab her arm and push her down into the water. her surprised laugh turns into a delighted squeal as she tumbles into the waves. she pulls you down with her and now both of you drenched but grinning from ear to ear. 

you lift yourself out of the water, shaking your head and splashing her with droplets flying from your hair. 

“now we’re even,” danielle says, wiping water off her face.

“absolutely not.” 

you splash her again, and she yelps, then laughs. she stands up and backs away from you. you're watching her happily, then something makes you pause. her white tank top, now soaked, clings to her skin, and you catch a glimpse of ink on her rib, the same area as your own tattoo but on the opposite side; instead, it’s on her left.

before you can process it, she interrupts your thoughts with another splash. you close your eyes and spit out the salty water, groaning before you tackle her.

you two emerge from the water and stand up, facing each other and both wiping off the salty water from your faces. you use your hand to slick your hair back, then push away a chunk of hair that clings to danielle’s cheek.

“you’re soaked.” you chuckle through a grin.

“and who’s fault is that?” she questions sarcastically.

you shrug. “technically yours.” 

she rolls her eyes at you, then does the unexpected. 

her eyes dart to your lips for a moment before she cups your cheek gently with one hand. your gaze shifts to meet hers as she steps closer, maintaining eye contact. 

“you look so cute right now…” she murmurs, brushing her thumb against the edge of your bottom lip. “can i?”

your stomach tightens, and your heart feels like it's being squeezed as if it were one of the pet toys danielle uses to calm her patients down. unable to form a coherent response, you nod and hum, “mhm.”

danielle smiles softly, and suddenly, everything feels right. she wraps her arms around your neck, leaning in and tilting her head. you close your eyes, feeling her lips press against yours.

it's a little salty, a given considering you’ve both been fighting in the ocean. but still, it’s warm and wonderful, and you feel like you might melt until you’re one with the water beneath you. she pulls back for a second, her eyes still closed and her lips ghosting over yours. then she kisses you again, and it feels like you've been hit by a tidal wave.

your hands move to her waist, pushing her closer.

she pulls away and looks at you, your faces a few inches apart.

“i like you a lot y/n.” she confesses, playing with a strand of your wet hair. “i really do.”

it hasn’t really hit you in the past, you never thought about it that hard. being around danielle made you giddy and carefree, plus she’s the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen, you’ve thought that since you first laid eyes on her. you don’t need a second to think or clarify in your mind that– 

“me too.” you practically breathe out, looking at her lovingly. 

“i’m glad.” she says, then kisses you again. your hand brushes against her tattoo without you knowing and she shivers, pulling away. “it’s kind of cold, and late.” she mumbles, “we should head back–”

you cut her off with another kiss, then part with a smile. 

“yeah.”

–

hyein is wiping the tables, then hears the bell jingle. “we’re closed! come back tomorrow!” she says nicely without looking up.

“it’s me.” you say quietly.

she looks up, brows furrowing when she looks at your wet shirt and damp hair. “what happened to you?” she asks, “my god, wait here, let me get a towel.”

when she’s back with a gray towel in her hand, you put it around you and sigh happily, leaning against the wall. hyein looks at you with a weird expression, almost like you’re an idiot.

“what’s up with you?”

“i just kissed dani.” you say it like it’s unbelievable, maybe because it isn;t. “hyein i just kissed danielle marsh.”

hyein’s jaw drops, she walks over to you and puts her hands on your shoulder, shaking you. “did you really?” she questions, baffled. “don’t mess around with me!”

“i’m not.” you sigh, smiling to yourself. “i’m gonna shower.”

she groans, “hey! don’t just–”

you walk away from her, smiling the whole way through and making her groan again.

–

haerin opens the door to a soaked danielle. her tank top is still sticking to her skin and her hair is still wet, but there’s a smile on her face that’s way brighter than usual.

“why are you wet?” haerin asks, letting her inside. “why didn’t you bring swimwear.”

“i just kissed y/n.” danielle giggles, “i just kissed–” she puts a hand on haerin’s shoulder. “--y/n.”

haerin looks at her with absolute shock evident on her face. “you what.”

“oh my god it was so perfect and even better than the movies it was so unreal and–”

“you what?!” haerin’s jaw drops, she’s more than overwhelmed. 

–

danielle greets you in the morning with a kiss on the cheek before sitting down to have breakfast with you. she looks at you much more lovingly now, since her feelings are clear to you. you smile shyly when she does it.

you lead her out of the restaurant, gently playing with her fingers as you both stand outside. small promises of seeing each other later are exchanged, and when danielle pouts, you reassure her that being apart for a few hours isn't the end of the world. to emphasize your point, you quickly peck her lips, earning a bright smile in return. 

reluctantly, she lets go of your hand and waves before starting to walk away. suddenly, she rushes back to give you one more kiss, then dashes off to make her way to work.

danielle thinks of you the whole way to work, a small smile on her lips forms and doesn’t leave.

haerin is turning on the laptops at the front desk when she hears a bright and eager “good morning!” after the door swings open. the younger girl rolls her eyes, waving at danielle.

“someones happy.”

“how could i not be? guess who i just saw–”

“y/n,” haerin groans, but grins after. “we get it, you’re in love.”

“she gave me some extra carrots, and also a small bag of cherry tomatoes~”

haerin perks up, immediately walking over to danielle and tilting her head. danielle laughs, then fishes out a ziplock bag with ten or twelve little tomatoes inside, making haerin smile happily. she picks one out, plopping it into her mouth and chewing with a satisfied look on her face.

“tell your girlfriend i said thanks.”

danielle pulls out her phone, then snaps a picture of the happy haerin in front of her. haerin looks confused, then whines when she’s shown the picture.

“aw, look at you!” danielle giggles, zooming in on haerin’s stuffed cheek. “you look like a child.”

“shut up.”

“i’ll show y/n this, she’ll pack more next time.”

haerin pouts, then turns around smiling at the thought of more snacks for her.

–

you spend the next month hanging out with danielle whenever you can – she’s your girlfriend after all the fact that she’s all yours, it makes you giddy.

you two go on a variety of dates, spend time in danielle’s room looking at her old photos and trinkets, swim at the beach, take jerry out, accompanying her at work – anything really, because anything satisfies the two of you as long as you have each other.

this time you’re in danielle’s room again, laid on her bed side ways and propping yourself up with one elbow and your face in your hands. she’s talking about a dog she had treated at work, some shih tzu who had a temper tantrum and wouldn’t stop barking at her. 

you look at her with stars in your eyes, nodding and humming along to her rambling. she’s sitting crissed cross in front of you, drying her hair with a towel and frowning at the mention that the shih tzu almost bit her.

“i’m sorry that happened dani.” you reach over to place a hand on her knee, rubbing it softly. “you dont deserve the hostility.”

“i know… ugh, anyway.” she leans over and presses a kiss on your forehead. “you should shower, use my towel.”

“okay okay.” you murmur, sitting up and leaning over to kiss her lips. you pull away and linger for a bit before asking, “haerin is alright with me staying over, right?”

“yeah, you’ve been feeding her tomato obsession, of course she is.”

you giggle, then get off the bed. “i’ll be quick.”

“okay love.” danielle says, smiling at you.

you walk down the hall and towards the bathroom with your pajamas – a t-shirt and shorts – then lock yourself inside. you smile thinking of danielle, thinking that this is the first time you’ve ever spent the night with someone you’ve liked romantically.

you look at the mirror in front of you and start to strip, taking off your shirt. you pause for a moment when you catch sight of the tattoo on your rib. it's been a while since you acknowledged it. running a finger over it, you shiver, then read the text. your eyes widen as the realization hits—you have less than three months until your time is up.

a wave of suffocation overwhelms you. you've just formed various bonds that have made you the happiest you have been since your parents passed. hyein feels like a sister to you. mrs. lee is one of the most generous and hardworking people you know—you'd spend hours and hours overtime for her if she asked. and then there's haerin, who you've built a solid friendship with and can joke around with effortlessly.

the weight of it all presses down on you, making it hard to breathe.

worst of all, you and danielle are together now. 

you've never felt so strongly for someone, anyone. sure, you loved your parents deeply and felt your heart being ripped up into shreds when they died that night, but this—this is different.

 something about danielle made you forget about the whole ‘destined death’ thing. she eased your worries and stopped your mind from spinning. she grounded you so your feet stayed down on earth instead of floating away into the space of your sorrow, and you’d bring the moon down for her on the way if she asked.

now, with less than three months left, it's all going to end. you'll lose everything and everyone you’ve built up in this town. how dumb could you be? thinking this was some stupid last resort, without considering the harm you’d cause. you'll leave everyone feeling as you did before—lost and alone. you're selfish, you're terrible. that’s all that runs in your mind.

it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, or that you’ve stood up too quickly. you grip the sides of the sink for support, breathing shakily as you stare at your reflection. the room seems to close in around you as the weight of your situation presses down, making it hard to breathe.

–

danielle has been on her phone for over thirty minutes, her eyes drifting repeatedly to the closed door, worry etched across her face. just as she considers checking on you, the door opens, and you emerge in your pajamas with wet hair. the sight of danielle's face lighting up with happiness and relief eases you instantly, as if you hadn’t just spiraled in the bathroom moments before.

her smile is a balm to your frayed nerves, and the tension in your chest loosens. you take a deep breath, grateful for the small comfort of her presence. danielle sets her phone aside and moves towards you, her concern evident.

"everything okay?" she asks softly, her eyes searching yours.

you nod, forcing a smile. "yeah."

she pulls you into a gentle hug, and you allow yourself to relax in her embrace, letting the warmth of her affection wash over you. in that moment, everything feels a little more bearable, and you cling to that feeling, hoping it can carry you until you perish.

“you took long.” danielle teases. “missed you.”

“was it that long?”

“no…” danielle mutters, putting her arms around your neck. “but i started to worry.” she adds, pouting a bit.

“i’m sorry, i was just… zoning out.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you say, then tilt your head a bit. 

danielle plays with your hair, her fingers massaging your scalp as she gazes at you lovingly. she gently rubs her thumb over your flushed skin, finding you utterly adorable. your face is warm from the hot shower, and she tiptoes to kiss you, smiling into it and humming, satisfied.

both of you stay close in that moment, lips pressing together, parting, and then reuniting. it's soft and sweet, with danielle's fingers threading through your hair and your own hand subtly tracing along her waistline.

when she finally pulls away, she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with a fond smile. "hey… close the door?"

"hm? okay." you comply, stepping back just enough to push the door closed with your fingers.

as the door clicks shut, danielle pulls you by the wrist, her lips crashing against yours. you gasp in surprise but quickly reciprocate, eager and fervent. her hands glide up and down the base of your neck, applying just enough pressure to rile you up—successfully so.

your hand rests above her waist, and you pull her closer, bodies pressing together as your lips savor each other like you're both famished. danielle bites your bottom lip lightly, making you groan softly and part your lips.

"dani—" you breathe out, your fingers grasping at her shirt. 

she moves down to your jawline, leaving a trail of soft pecks that lead to your neck. her kisses are light, making you sigh as you shift yourselves toward her bed. you slowly maneuver yourself on top of her, your movements synchronized and unhurried, savoring every touch and kiss.

“y-you’re really eager, aren’t you?”

“i can’t help it…” she says into your skin. “you’re just so…”

she finishes attacking your neck and pulls away to meet your flustered face, smiling as she rubs your cheeks with both thumbs. the searing heat on your cheeks warms up her own skin.

“...adorable.” danielle mutters. 

“...whatever.”

your hands rest at her waist, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. you look at her, silently asking, ‘is this okay?’ her response is to gently push your hand under her shirt, guiding your fingers to brush against her warm skin. the contact makes her bite her lip, a small sigh escaping her.

slowly, you slide your hand upwards, feeling the smooth curve of her side until your fingers rest just above her ribs. as your touch hovers over the ink on her skin, she gasps softly, the sound barely audible but full of emotion. 

you pause for a moment, looking into her eyes, and see nothing but trust and desire. encouraged, you let your fingers trace the outline of her tattoo, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. her breathing quickens, and she closes her eyes, lost in the sensation.

danielle's hands find their way to your shoulders, pulling you closer. your lips meet again, more urgently this time, as if the world outside has ceased to exist. 

you begin to pepper kisses along her jawline and neck, mimicking her earlier actions. danielle giggles as you do so, her hands moving through your hair. the previous intensity between you shifts to a more playful intimacy. you kiss her repeatedly, nipping at her skin and nudging your nose against her, eliciting another small laugh and a gentle tug at your hair.

the moment is lighthearted and warm until a knock at the bedroom door startles both of you. you practically jump off her, your cheeks burning with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. danielle clears her throat, quickly fixing her hair before getting up to answer the door.

"j-just a second," she calls out, giving you a reassuring smile before opening the door to see who it is. she clears her throat, answering, “yes?” and patting herself down before she opens the door to meet haerin. “oh, hey.”

“can we talk?” haerin says a bit seriously, making danielle look at her closely. 

again, danielle clears her throat before turning to you. you’re avoiding any eye contact with haerin, simply shooting a thumbs up and running a hand through your hair to fix it up.

“yeah, of course.” she closes the door behind her, looking at haerin with a concerned expression. haerin looks worried, even looking at danielle with some type of pity and sadness. “is everything okay?”

“danielle, we… need to talk about– you know.” haerin mutters, pointing bashfully at danielle’s upper rib. “yeah.”

danielle tilts her head and her eyes flicker with confusion before she understands.

“oh.”

“i checked the date today,” haerin starts, looking at the ground. “you have little time, don’t you?”

“haerin, don’t worry about it.”

“it’s not just me. does y/n even know? i don’t even know when exactly, but that fact that i can predict the time is enough for me to worry. and what will you do? you and y/n? you’re going to–” haerin gulps, clenching her jaw as she tries to compose herself. tears well up in her eyes as she continues, “you’re going to be gone and… y/n doesn’t know.”

danielle looks at haerin with tears forming in her eyes as well. her bottom lip twitches looking at the younger girl before she speaks, “because i made the mistake of even hinting it, okay? look at you, and i bet minji, hanni, and hyein are stressed by it. it’s– look. i’ve been doing a great job at getting past it, okay? just… let me live the most i can.” danielle huffs, blinking and a tear falls. “i don’t have the most time anyway, not all of us are lucky enough to live past thirty.”

“dani–” haerin begins, but danielle just shakes her head, wiping her tear away. 

"stop, just stop. i don’t want to think about it." it’s selfish, danielle knows it, but something about you makes her realize how much she’s missed out on in life. loving you is something she experienced late, yet it's the best thing that’s ever happened to her. from the moment she first laid eyes on you, something clicked. 

an inexplicable urge pushed her to have breakfast with you that first time. then, she needed to see you again and again until her heart felt content and the burden of her tattoo faded away. you gave her clarity, a peace of mind she hadn’t known before. of course spending time with her friends and whatnot gave her some moments that were stress free, but she always came back home, laid in bed, and thought about her fate. however the more time she spent with you, the more the weight of her worries lifted, replaced by the lightness of your presence until it was like the whole tattoo thing didn’t exist or matter.

danielle feels a sense of urgency and desperation, knowing how fleeting these moments could be. but for now, with you by her side, everything feels right. it almost feels like you can be the one to break the whole ‘curse.’

(it’s nothing like that, just unlucky fate that danielle can’t seem to accept.)

“i’m going to go spend time with y/n.” danielle says after clearing her throat. haerin looks at her, mouth slightly open and tears practically spilling out her waterline.

–

you lay in bed with a hand on your tattoo and staring up at the ceiling. the door opens and you sit up eagerly, meeting danielle with slightly watered eyes and a tinted pink nose.

“sorry about that…” she says shyly, her lips pursing in to a smile. “haerin and i had a little um, talk.”

“are you okay?” she steps close enough for you to put a hand on her cheek and feel the moisture from the remnants of tears. “were you crying?”

“it’s nothing,” she assures, turning to kiss your hand. 

she moves to turn off the lamp on the bedside table before laying down next to you and scooting up so her head is on your shoulder. your arm finds it’s away around to push her closer and she snuggles into you. you make a move to kiss her forehead, hearing a soft hum when you keep your lips on her skin.

“hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“what would you do if you had little time to live?” you fall silent from her question, feeling your throat tighten up. 

danielle feels a hand in her hair, your finger twirls a strand of it. “what’s with the question?”

“i’m just curious.”

“well,” you start, moving over so you can turn on your side and face your grilfriend fully. “i’d move to the beach,” you put a hand on her cheek, tracing patterns onto her skin. “and find my way from there.”

“really?”

“yeah.” you nod. “my parents died at the beach actually. they thought they could beat their fate if they were the happiest people on earth.” your voice gets softer and danielle focuses on your features closely. “they didn’t beat it, but they were still the happiest people until their fate. i’d like to be like that.”

“are you happy?” danielle asks, holding your hand tightly. 

“of course i am.” your hand moves down to danielle’s shoulder and your palm rubs against it. “i think i’ve been the happiest i’ve ever been just after knowing you exist.”

“maybe i am your twin flame.” danielle jokes.

“maybe.” there’s only one way to know that, but you can’t ask to see danielle’s tattoo, because then she’d ask for yours and you couldn’t possibly show someone as lucky as her your destined date. “what would you do if you had little time?”

danielle wants to confess everything—the limited time she has left, the emotions eating her up since she found out she wouldn’t even make it to twenty. she wants to spill her heart, to tell you how she had planned to keep everyone she knew close and spend all the time she could with them. but now, all she wants is to be with you until fate decides her time is up.

but danielle doesn’t say any of that. 

instead, she cups your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin with tender care. she leans in, her breath warm against your face, and gently kisses your nose before scooting into your arms.

“i don’t know, maybe spend time with you a little more.”

–

time is running out, and you’re the only one who knows.

it’s less than three weeks until you’re gone, until you’re nothing but a body and a silent heart.

(unless something brutal happens to you, then you wouldn’t be just a body – you really hope you won’t be fated to some horror movie ending.)

you've been making a boatload of excuses, claiming you're too busy to head over to the shelter or too sick. you've even found ways to dodge dates and quality time with danielle, sometimes by mentioning hyein. and tutoring hyein is a whole other story, it’s become another casualty of your avoidance tactics, with frequent claims of not feeling well or having headaches—anything to stay cooped up in your room or sulking by the beach. you hate doing this, but you convince yourself it’ll make the inevitable separation less painful; everyone will thank you sooner or later.

in this time, you’ve burned yourself on the wok more than usual, two or three times in one workday. each time, mrs. lee hears you curse loudly. she sits you down repeatedly, her concerned eyes searching yours, asking if everything is alright. each time, you give her a shaky breath and a feeble shake of your head, unable to muster more than that.

your heart feels heavy with every excuse, every lie, and every burn. you hope that distancing yourself now will make the eventual farewell easier, but the weight of your decision only grows heavier. mrs. lee’s concern, danielle’s confusion, and hyein’s disappointment haunt you, but you push through, believing it’s for the best.

when you burn yourself three times and cut your index finger once, mrs. lee grabs you and sits you down right in the living room after work. she doesn’t bat an eye at hyein, who walks in on the scene of her grandmother standing across from you with her arms crossed, her expression a mix of anger and concern. instead, mrs. lee sends hyein to her room. surprisingly, hyein doesn’t talk back. she looks at you with worry, then slowly moves herself up the stairs and down the hallway to her room.

you lean against the counter behind you, gripping it tightly. the bandaid on your finger loosens.

"are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are you going to keep bottling it up?" mrs. lee's voice is firm but gentle.

"nothing is wrong," you respond, your voice flat and unconvincing.

mrs. lee's eyes narrow slightly, her concern deepening. "don’t lie to me. i’ve seen you struggling. you’ve been out of it and now you’re hurting yourself more. i know you, you can handle cooking the hot dishes in your sleep, so what is wrong?”

your grip on the counter tightens as you avoid her gaze. "i’m fine. really."

she steps closer, her voice softening. "i care about you. whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. did you and danielle break up? is that what this is?”

“n-no, no. thank god no.” you feel a lump forming in your throat, but you stubbornly shake your head. "i just... i can’t talk about it."

mrs. lee sighs, her frustration evident, “no, i’m not letting you just–”

“i have less than three weeks to live.” you choke out, looking down at the ground and feeling your body go weak. the counter holds you up.

mrs. lee looks at you, utterly shocked. “what?”

“that’s it. i don’t have much time.” tears blur your vision as you look back at her, and mrs. lee looks at you with all kinds of emotion.

“are you serious?” she asks, and you nod, lifting up your shirt so that the ink on your upper rib is visible. you accidentally sob, tears falling down your cheek as mrs. lee reads the date. 

you close your eyes and turn away, unable to even look at her. a few seconds later you feel arms around your body, like someone is hugging you, and open your eyes to see her hair. she’s hugging you tight, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i’m sorry i just—”

“dear, no, no. it’s okay, it’s alright. everything is okay.”

“is it?” you ask in between a sob. “i’m so selfish…”

“everyone is when it comes to this.” she says, then turns to look at your clearly. she wipes away your tears, then places her hands on your shoulder. “my best cook has to retire soon…”

you giggle softly, her attempt at easing the tension working. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, it will all be alright.”

she hugs you again, and then you hear another sob coming from where the stairs are. hyein stands on the steps, holding the wooden railing with her hand covering her mouth and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“y/n,” hyein’s voice is shaky. “you’re dying soon?”

“hyein you weren’t supposed to–”

“are you really?”

you purse your lips and break away from her grandma, walking over to hug her. she hugs you back and sobs into you, her voice muffled into your shirt. i’m sorry.” you murmur, rubbing her back. “i’m really sorry, i’m so so sorry–”

“you idiot…” hyein mumbles. “is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“i’m sorry… i just didn’t want you to miss me.” 

she parts from you and punches your shoulder, then wipes away her tears and sniffles. “i’d kill you for dying just like that, now we have to spend as much time we can.”

mrs. lee nods, looking at the two of you. “i’m firing you, you need to spend the most time you can.”

“hey wait– i really like this cooking gig, please don’t do that.”

“fine, two week notice.”

you manage to giggle even in the pressure of the moment, feeling the weight of your fate pushing down on you.

“okay, okay.”

hyein starts again, asking you with a concerned face, “and what about haerin? and especially your girlfriend?”

“i–” you lower your head. “i don’t want them to pity me, i just want to spend time with them normally. can you be the one to apologize for me?”

“wow y/n… you’re a terrible person.” hyein mumbles, her eyes starting to water again. 

“i know, i’m sorry.”

she punches your shoulder again before hugging you. “i’m kidding. there’s nothing we can do, just promise me you’ll spend more time? no more saying you’re sick? maybe i’ll–” she sniffles, “--believe it on the last day if you say it though.”

you sob a little before hugging her tightly, humming in response. mrs. lee joins in and your arms wrap around both of them, all of you shedding tears.

–

haerin and danielle sit with jerry, who’s blinking slow and laying on the counter. danielle looks at him fondly, petting his fur. 

“i don’t think he has much time left.” danielle informs, rubbing by his ears.

it’s ironic and almost perfect, danielle and (practically) her own dog dying soon.

haerin frowns, looking between the two.

“will you be okay?”

danielle smiles sadly, petting under his mouth. “we’ll meet again.”

haerin hums in response, petting jerry as well. “will we?” she asks suddenly, practically under her breath.

the younger girl feels an arm around her pulling her into a side hug. haerin gulps, hugging danielle tight.

“of course.”

silence follows as the three of them sit there together, no one says anything, jerry shuffles into danielle’s hand more, and all of them try to bear the fate that waits for them. haerin pulls away, looking at danielle with watery eyes.

“will you ever tell y/n? you know, that it’s soon?”

danielle shakes her head, then softly says, “i can’t put that weight on her. if i’m going to spend time with the love of my life, i want every moment to be happy from now on.” then danielle puts her hand on haerin’s shoulder, squeezing it tight. “and you don’t need to worry about me, okay? let’s spend time being happy.”

haerin doesn’t know what she’ll do without danielle, she doesn’t know what anyone in the town could do. if the sun had ceased to exist, their little town would still be radiant and lively just because danielle had been around.

–

hyein and haerin eat lunch by the arcade they always go to. the sun is shining down on them, making haerin sweat along her hairline and hyein fan herself with a plastic plate. 

you’re gone in a week, and hyein is doing anything she can to prepare for it. she tries to keep herself  happy and uplifted by going out with haerin, but it seems like haerin is dealing with her own thing. she’s usually quiet, but right now she’s dead silent, poking at her rice bowl.

“is everything oka–” hyein pauses when she watches haerin put her face in her hands, rubbing her face and groaning as her shoulders tense up. “what happened?” hyein questions, eyes widening.

“i hate these goddamn tattoos.”

“you don’t die for another like, thirty years haerin.”

“it’s not me.”

“who?”

haerin purses her lips and looks up at hyein, who’s gazing at her worriedly. haerin shakes her head, then sighs out, “danielle.”

“you told me before, is it that soon? already?” hyein starts to panic, not only are you done for soon, but even mo dani.

“she won’t tell me the exact date, i think in a week or two or–” haerin groans, putting her head down on the table. “--i don’t know! it’s just, i… i don’t know what to do.”

hyein bites the inside of her lip and pats haerin’s head, then says, “i know how you feel.”

she hears the older girl scoff lightly, “right.”

“y/n.”

haerin lifts her head up and looks at hyein intensely, then looks at her baffled. “what?” she practically chokes out, “y/n?”

“i shouldn’t tell you, but… her and danielle, it’s heartbreaking just thinking about it.”

“hey hey,” haerin snaps her fingers twice at hyein, “y/n is dying soon? are you serious?”

“in a week – less than i think.”

haerin sits there and processes all the information she’s just received before responding again, “should we tell them?” haerin asks, then stops to rethink. “actually, let’s not.”

“what?” hyein looks at her like she’s an idiot. “why not?”

“just let them be, the mention of death might make things worse for them. have you seen them, it’s like they were made for each other. what if y/n dies before dani? or the other way around? just let it be.”

hyein contemplates, staring at haerin worriedly again.

“fine,” the younger one sighs, “okay.”

–

you have a little over forty-eight hours until your time is up. you've spent every waking moment with those you care about, keeping your routine largely unchanged.

you still help hyein after school, hanging out with her at the little comic and antique store whenever you have time. the two of you take as many pictures as you can with her grandpa's old film camera, creating memories that will last. hyein wants to keep a piece of you with her always, something to look back on when she misses you. sometimes, haerin joins you, even coming over before her shifts to spend time with you both. these moments, surrounded by the people you love, fill you with a bittersweet joy. you're cherishing every second, knowing that your time is running out, and hoping these memories will live on in the hearts of those you leave behind.

along with hyein, you spend lots of time with her grandma. the two of you talk late at night and in the mornings, mrs. lee shares more stories from her youth and memorable moments of hyein. she talks about her late husband more often, revealing how much he influenced hyein's playful personality. you still help cook for the regulars despite mrs. lee telling you to just relax, but you love what you do – serving their meals and satisfying people until your favorite face comes into view after the bell above the restaurant door jingles.

you still eat breakfast with danielle, though lately, you've been choosing to sit outside to people-watch while you both soak in the sun. sometimes, the people-watching turns into dani-watching. you find yourself trying to memorize every feature and detail of her face—from the curve of her nose to the crinkle in her eyes when an animal passes by, the small beauty marks on her cheek, and the faint freckles on her skin. 

time is running out, and you can only pray that you'll be able to carry the memory of the person you love with you even after you die. wherever you go, you want to keep danielle tattooed in your mind, every detail of her face etched into your memory.

even as you two walk along the boardwalk, your eyes are focused on danielle. she’s looking in the distance, the sun is going to set soon.

before you know it, she’s turning back to you, catching you staring.

“something on my face?”

“no, no.” you mumble, putting your hands in your pockets and smiling down at jerry, who is struggling to walk in a straight line. you smile, then admit, “i’m very fond of your face.”

danielle giggles, then locks her fingers with yours. “i feel the same way about you miss l/n.”

“i’m very glad miss marsh.”

“would love to be your mrs. someday.” danielle mutters shyly, then looks up at you and you swear her eyes are shimmering. “if you’d let me.”

your heart simultaneously flutters and cracks into a few pieces. you move her hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it and saying, “i wouldn’t want anything else but for you to be mrs. for eternity.”

“mhm, that sounds like a dream.”

the two of you walk in silence for a moment longer, comfortable beside each other with jerry’s steps getting all jumbled up. danielle smiles sadly at him, knowing he doesn’t have much time left. you look at him, then at danielle, feeling the exact same way.

danielle feels you squeeze her hand tighter, then her gaze shifts to you. you look her in the eyes for five seconds and don’t say a single thing, the only thing that registers in your mind is that she’s the person youve needed your whole life.

maybe if you had more time you’d spend every morning having breakfast with her in mrs. lee’s restaurant, and on your days off she could even take you to one of her favorite spots. if you had more time you’d spend more time tracing patterns onto her skin and leaving gentle kisses there too, and you’d give anything just to have one more day having a stupid, meaningless conversation with her too. 

she’s all that you’ve been searching for, and you don’t recall searching for anything in the first place.

“what?” she asks, “are you okay?”

“i love you so much.” you say suddenly, catching her offguard. “like, i’d look for you in a room full of hundreds of people, no doubt.”

“what’s with the sudden–” you peck her lips cutting her off and pausing her in place. “--affection…”

“i just love you, so much, always.”

“are you okay?”

“just lovesick.” you sigh, tightening your jaw. 

danielle shakes her head, looking at you confusedly but smiling regardless. her smile could be the sun and you’d still stare at it until you’re blinded for life – not that you have that much life left anyway.

“alright silly. i love you even more, you know?”

“no way.”

“i’m not going to argue with you because i’m right.” danielle chuckles, her hand moves to caress the base of your neck. “i love you forever and wherever and always.”

“likewise, but ten times more.”

“you can’t multiply infinity by ten.”

“well i just did it in my mind.”

“i’m gonna blow you up in my mind.”

“yeah but not before you think of me all lovingly.” danielle shoves your shoulder hearing the remark, you simply laugh.

–

it’s time, and you’d rather die than – well, die.

you hadn’t been able to sleep, staying up until the sun started to rise and sleep eventually took over. you made a small prayer in your head that you wouldn’t die in your sleep or due to staying up so late – or early for that matter – just so you could see everyone at least one more time.

you wake a few hours after you had passed out and the day had already gone by, it was already three hours afternoon and everyone – haerin, hyein, and mrs. lee – was looking at you worriedly as you woke up.

before you can process any of it, haerin and hyein shake you awake even more, you jolt up and almost hit your head on the bedframe.

“w-what? how long was i out, what time is it? what’s happening – am i dead?”

“y/n,” haerin says quickly, face full of worry. her brows are furrowed so deeply that more wrinkles than you can count on one hand are visible, and the rest of the bunch looks just as concerned. “it’s storming outside, it’s crazy.”

“is it?”

hyein grabs your hand, then nods. “danielle, she’s out there.”

you stand up immediately upon hearing this, eyes widening as you gasp, “what? is she crazy?”

“jerry ran out, he’s missing. we couldn’t find him and danielle went out to find him. it’s pouring, and it seems like it’ll thunder or – i don’t know, something!” haerin says hurriedly, looking at you all distressed and bother. “i don’t know where she is, i– we don’t know what to do.”

“where did you see her run off?” you ask.

“towards the beach–” hyein gets cuts off when you hug her and the other two tightly, you practically pull them into your arms, it’ll probably be the last time they’re in them anyway. hyein watches a tear flow down your cheek as well as your bottom lip trembling, looking at you worriedly. her eyes widen just as yours did when she watches you tear away and head towards the door. “--y/n, no way you’re going out in this–”

“hyein.” you’re crying, you’re crying so hard and your chest is tightening so hard that you’re terrified you might just collapse right then and there. “i don’t have much– hell, i don’t have any time left. today is the day, there’s nothing stopping me. if i die, it might as well be because i’m searching for the light of my life.”

the three look at you with tears streaming down their skin, mrs. lee sobs softly before nodding in understanding. hyein looks at you in disbelief, and haerin mirrors the younger girls expression.

you purse your lips before heading out the door, through the restaurant, and finally outside. 

it’s raining like crazy, you can barely see. there’s no way danielle went out in these conditions. 

an umbrella flies past you and you have to jump out of the way so it doesn’t hit you – there’s no way you’d let an umbrella kill you. 

you start running as fast as you can toward the beach, ignoring the slight burn of the raindrops hitting you harder now that you’re running against the flow. you run as fast as you can and ignore the burn in your legs from not warming up, the only thing in your mind is danielle. she has to be crazy.

you reach the beach in less than ten minutes, huffing like crazy as you scan the area. the rain has died down just slightly, but you’re still soaking and getting hit by droplets falling down aggressively. 

in the corner of your eye, you catch someone running along the boardwalk and hear a familiar voice calling out “jerry!”

danielle.

immediately, you run towards the sound and barely visible figure, then bump into her accdientally, making the two of you nearly trip and fall over on the ground. danielle squints her eyes at you, then widens them and yells, “y/n?”

“are you fucking crazy?” you shout, “it’s crazy out here, why would you run out like that?”

you can’t really tell in the rain, but you manage to catch how red her nose is and the slight pink in her eyes. she’s been crying.

“j-jerry, he just… he ran out. y/n, he doesn’t have much time, i– i can’t–”

the two of you turn your heads when you hear a bark in the distance, looking toward there the sound had come from and doing your best to find out what caused it. danielle starts to run towards the beach, and you immediately dash right after her, following without thinking. 

“jerry?” she calls out at the top of her lungs, running closer to where the water is. “jerry!”

in the distance, you make out a small dog like figure. it’s jerry, there’s no doubt about it. the color of the furm the snout, and the familiar bark all give it away; there’s no way it’s not jerry.

she starts to take off her shoes, and before she can dart into the water – the water the splashes against the sand roughly, the waves getting bigger and bigger – you stop her, grabbign her wrist tightly and holding her back.

“are you insane?” you question her, brows creased in disbelief, worry, and care. “you’ll drown.”

“jerry is going to die.”

“danielle, you’ll die.”

“i know.”

you can’t believe her, she’s soaked and her hair is almost covering one of her eyes. she tries to loosen the grip you have on her with her other hand, but you don’t budge. instead, you look at her, trembling.

“what do you mean ‘you know’?”

danielle shakes her head, desperately pushing you away. “let me go! please y/n, jerry is–”

“danielle what do you mean?”

the split second you loosen your grip, danielle manages to break free. she darts towards the ocean, running into the water and disappearing without giving you an explanation. 

you bite your lip, then run after her. you’re dying today anyway, and if it’s for danielle, you’d be more than happy to perish like this.

danielle is desperately swimming towards jerry, who’s already much deeper in the ocean past where most people can even swim. it’s probably meters deep, and yet, danielle is still swimming relentlessly, you follow her and manage to nearly catch up somehow, trying to stop her.

“danielle!” water fills your mouth as you call for her, she turns back to see you struggling and hesitates. “p-please–” a wave hits you and you try to fight back up, spitting out the mix of rain and salty water. “you’ll die–”

“y/n!” she yells, worriedly swimming towards you and managing to grab your hand. 

she does her best to pull you above the water, but oyu’re heavier and it almost sinks her down too. you manage to fight back up, holding onto her hand tightly as you fight for air.

“y-you’re an idiot.” you gasp, breathing in and out deeply. “you’re going to die.”

“why did you follow me?” danielle asks, doing her best to keep her head above the water. “you’ll die.”

“danielle,” you give up, letting your body slightly relax as every emotion you’ve ever felt hits you in the face. “i know. i’m dying today and if it’s for you then i’ll gladly do so.”

“what?”

“july 22nd, danielle. there’s a tattoo on my upper rib that has today’s date on it, i’m gone today, it’s inevitable.”

the rain water hits her face and makes her fight for air, but even while she does so, the shock on her face is clear as day. 

“are you serious?”

“yes! i need you to live on even if i can’t, please, just–”

she sobs, you hear her so clearly and you’re taken aback. 

“you idiot! me too.”

“what?”

“july 22nd, 2024.”  she says plainly, “on my upper left rib, y/n.”

you can’t speak – or breathe for that matter, but maybe thats just the water filling up your nose and mouth as the waves get worse. somehow, you laugh defeatedly, then smile at her. 

“we’re going to die together,” you manage to say, almost happily. “danielle, we’re–”

she silences you with a look, swimming closer until her arms wrap around you. without a word, she kisses you as if it's the last thing you'll ever do. miraculously, there's no taste of seawater—just something sweet, tender, and life-saving. the kiss is deep and enveloping, making you feel as if you're floating on air rather than nearly drowning in water. time seems to stand still as her lips convey everything words cannot, leaving you breathless and profoundly connected.

before you can fully process the moment, a wave crashes over you both. instead of fighting for air, you close your eyes tighter, wrapping your arms around danielle, holding her as if you’ll never let go. she mirrors your actions, clinging to you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. when you part for a brief second, neither of you opens your eyes, the seawater will make it feel like your pupils are burning. danielle rests her head in the crook of your neck as you two tumble int he water, the world around you dissolves, leaving just the two of you holding onto each other until everything fades into black.

...

you’re at the beach for your sixteenth birthday, somewhere warm and nice. your parents found a great deal online, the place was a four hour train ride and the views along the way were wonderful.. 

there’s no tattoo on your rib, and your parents are only absent because they’re fetching you ice cream from the hotel lobby—not because they’re gone forever. you stare out at the sea, feeling the sun kiss your features, hoping the tint on each peak of your face won’t be too harsh. you made sure to apply extra sunscreen anyway.

hugging your knees, you hum along to a chet baker song playing on your phone. suddenly, with no warning at all, your earbuds are yanked from your ears, and a dog is all over you, licking your shoulder, then your cheek, and pulling away to look at you with its tongue out and tail wagging happily.

you jump from the unexpected arrival but quickly dissolve into giggles, reaching out to pet the dog. its joyful energy is contagious, and you find yourself laughing and playing along, forgetting everything else as you bask in the simple, pure joy of the moment. 

the dog seems oddly familiar, as if you’d met it before. you shrug it off, there’s tons of dogs that look like the one in front of you.

however, there aren’t many – probably zero – people that look like the girl running up towards you, quickly moving her dog away from you and apologizing.

“i’m so sorry!” she looks about your age, plus, her voice is really nice to the ears. “jerry, you need to learn some manners!”

the dog whines, rubbing against the girls legs and hiding behind her. 

the girl is wearing a floral top and striped shorts, her hair long and flowing past her chest, moving perfectly in the breeze like a scene from a movie. her hair is dark and wavy, framing her face beautifully. she looks at you curiously, her large eyes framed by long, pretty eyelashes. words fail you, but she beats you to the punch.

"you have pretty eyes," she states, seemingly unfazed by the oddity of the situation. "have we met before?"

suddenly, you feel shy. this very pretty girl with a very sweet voice has just complimented you, and it seems like she knows you. maybe she’s the daughter of your parents’ friends, someone who’s heard of you before? you don’t really know.

you struggle to find your voice, but finally manage a response. "i– i’m sorry… i don’t think we’ve met.” as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you want to take it right back because you’re observing her a little closer, finding more details of her face that stand out and make you blush a little more and realize that she really does seem familiar. you can’t tell where you’ve seen her, but there’s a strange familiarity. 

“hm, i see.” she smiles warmly, her eyes lighting up as she puts her hand out. "i’m danielle.” she introdcuues, then points to her dog. “this is jerry.”

“my name is y/n.”

“your name is really nice.”

“yours is too.”

the two of you stare at each other, both seemingly trying to decipher the strange click you felt upon meeting. her dog, now less shy, nudges you, making you laugh and pet him adoringly.

"my dog seems to like you," danielle mumbles, "that’s odd. he’s shy with everyone but haerin..."

"i’m just as surprised as you are," you say, tilting your head away as the dog suddenly jumps up and starts to lick your collarbone. "my friend hyein is much better with animals; they love her."

"well, you must be special then."

you don't respond, instead smiling and patting down a space for this mysterious girl to sit next to you. she smiles back, then jerry sits between you two, wagging his tail and looking between you both proudly, as if this meeting were his plan all along.

...

everyone had questioned how young you two got married, but everyone who actually knew you – hyein, haerin, and everyone else you’ve mingled with closely along the way – know that the timing is more than perfect, maybe even too late. 

(hyein still scolds you for postponing your proposal because you didn’t have the guts to do it.)

you’re twenty and have been married to danielle for six months. there's a ring on your finger, and she’s your mrs., your lover, your wife—your everything. she’s the reason you’re up early on a sunday morning, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving her alone in bed. but it doesn’t matter because you’re busy doing her laundry and opening the tin of new coffee beans from australia that danielle insisted on buying at three in the morning when they were on sale.

(“they’re roasted in my hometown! please…”

“the shipping is over half of the actual tin…” you sigh, but danielle gives you puppy eyes and you give in. “fine.”

she kisses you on the lips, almost knocking you over even as you sit beside each other on the bed. “i love you.” 

it sounds like a prayer coming from her.)

the scent of fresh laundry fills the living room as you fold her bottoms and hang her clothes. suddenly, you feel arms wrapping around your waist from behind and a kiss on the nape of your neck. danielle's presence warms you, her embrace making the mundane task feel special. 

“morning,” she murmurs, her breath tickling your skin. you lean back into her, feeling the love and contentment radiate between you. the laundry can wait; in this moment, all that matters is the connection you share, the life you've built together, and the promise of many more mornings just like this.

“well good morning mrs. marsh.”

“good morning mrs. l/n.” danielle giggles into your clipped up hair, then sighs happily. “you smell like detergent, i want you.”

you let out a pftt and turn around to put your hand on her cheek and kiss her forehead. she hums and attempts to kiss your lips, but you pause her, putting a hand over her mouth.

“did you brush?”

a muffled, whiny “yes” is heard from her before she pushes her hand and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. she smells like toothpaste and lavender, you love it – you love her.

“hey sweetheart,” she starts, twirling the strand that pokes out of the claw clip. “i had the craziest dream.”

“yeah? what was it about.” you ask, then part from her to fold one of the jeans danielle had gifted you when you two were seventeen. 

“you were in it and we had matching tattoos.”

“is that so?”

she hums, then continues, “and the tattoos were on the same place – upper rib – but on opposite sides. it had the date july 22nd, 2024 inked on it. apparently that was when we died.”

“that’s odd, we got married that day.”

“that’s what i was thinking! i don’t know… it was such a weird dream.”

you stack your bottoms on top of each other and grab danielle’s hand, leading her over to the kitchen of your shared apartment. “tell me more, but first–” you grab your weighed out grinds of coffee and put them in your coffee puck. “what would you like?”

“latte with almond milk please – hot.”

“on it mrs.” you grin, then kiss her cheek before getting to work. “continue with your dream, please.”

“right.” she hops up on the counter and dangles her feet. you smile at her wavy, disheleved bedhead still present as she goes on, “we fell in love, had a dog named jerry, and then we drowned.”

you pause in your place after putting the puck in the machine and pressing ‘brew,’ then turn to face your wife with a baffled expression.

“oh.”

“i know right! and then it switched to something else where we met on the beach, your eyes were still pretty, and the same dog in the last dream made me run into you. it’s like it switched from one universe to another.”

you giggle, walking over to place your hands on the counter. she wraps her legs around your waist, then holds your face in her hands.

“that’s crazy,” you nearly whisper, starstruck. “wow.”

“i know! oh my gosh… i think those multiverse movies you’re making me watch are catching up.”

“or maybe we’re in love and meant to be in each universe…” you half-tease, but all of you hopes it’s true. “we’re like our own angsty romance movie or something.”

danielle rolls her eyes and you laugh before heading over to finish her morning coffee. she blows her drink a few times, then sips, closing her eyes, evidently satisfied with her beverage. you smile and subconsciously rub your ring with your thumb, hopping up on the counter to sit with her and dangle your feet as she leans her head on your shoulder.

you’d love to be with danielle in every universe, even if it were for a few months, years, or even days. any time with her would be a blessing.

she kisses your knuckles and it feels like you’re floating, like there’s nothing to worry about. as long as she’s beside you and in your life, whichever one that is, you know that you’ll be content regardless of any circumstance.

[sxcret-garden]

Ateez when they're jealous ღ NSFW Edition [M]

ღ Ateez all members x fem-bodied!reader ღ genre: smut, headcanons (dom-sub dynamics in some parts, semi-public sex in some parts, most of them get more or less possessive) ღ warnings: alcohol consumption in some parts

Author's note: Maybe I went a liiiittle overboard with this.... maybe I'm also very tempted to turn one of these into a full fic....

Hongjoong:

He's usually one to deal with his jealousy in a very adult manner and simply talk it out with you. However, after coming home jealous one day and having what was probably the best sex in your relationship up until that point, you've made an arrangement to deal with your jealousy in the bedroom. So it's really become more of a game to him than a pestering feeling to get rid of asap. And today as well, after you've spent a little too much time (in his opinion) having a very engaged conversation with the cute waiter of your regular place to get dinner, Hongjoong can't wait to get home and to drag you off to his bed. And that's exactly what he does, as you're filled with expectation because you didn't exactly miss the evil smirks he's been giving you throughout dinner, and you could guess what would be coming once you're home. He's moving slowly as he crawls on top of you, brushing his lips against yours in teasing kisses, and then telling you to strip naked for him. Will be the biggest little shit ever as he touches you in all the ways he knows will rile you up, and has you cursing underneath him when he pulls his fingers out of you just as you're about to cum. "You're gonna have to beg for it, babe," he whispers, licking his fingers clean. "I'm not gonna let you cum until I know you can't take it anymore."

Seonghwa:

Is so shocked when after weeks of suffering he finally figures out that seeing you with your male best friend makes him jealous, that he impulsively decides to get (almost blackout) drunk. What he forgot to consider was that you were scheduled to make dinner with him at his place, and so when you walk in on him having downed what's probably his third bottle of soju you're definitely mad at him. Wondering whether it'd even make sense to try to reason with your drunk boyfriend, you do eventually end up scolding him, but the second you're within reach he pulls you down onto his sofa, crawling on top of you. He's blushing from the alcohol, and usually you'd have found that cute, but today the cold stare he gives you makes you shiver. Worriedly, you ask what's wrong with him, and finally he explains. "I'm jealous. Like really jealous of your best friend. And drinking it away wasn't the best choice but right now I just need to make you mine." You're not sure if you should be impressed how in control he is for the amount he drank or if you should just be insanely turned on by his words, but when you give him permission with a nod it's not like he leaves you any time to think about this further anyway. Has you both naked in no time and pins you down as he fucks you rough, and if you think he'll be satisfied with giving you just one or two orgasms that night, you couldn't be more wrong.

Yunho:

Doesn't get jealous ever, except for that one time when you had only just started dating and were still in a bit of an awkward phase of figuring everything out together. Now usually he doesn't mind you going out to see your other guy friends, he has no reason to worry about that because he trusts you to never betray him. However, who he doesn't trust is that one guy who very obviously has a crush on you and he wouldn't put it past him to try to steal you away. And so he even went so far as to warn you about it, but you just brushed it off, defending the other guy and saying he's just a friend. And well, when one night your boyfriend witnesses how that guy drops you off at Yunho's place and he's being just a little too touchy before he hugs you goodbye, that's when the jealousy sets in. Needless to say he's upset when you walk inside, and not knowing what to do with that feeling, he simply kisses you. And it's a passionate kiss filled with need, the kind of kiss you've never received from your boyfriend up until that point. Yet he takes the lead, and soon he pushes you up against a wall, hands roaming your body and his lips nipping at your throat. "I don't ever want to see that guy touching you like that again," he mutters, rolling his clothed hard on against your hips, making you throw your head back. "You're mine and nobody else's." When he feels you going limp in his hold and all you can do is agree and whine at his touch, he takes you right then and there, proving to you that nobody could ever make you feel as good as he can.

Yeosang:

When he's jealous he needs reassurance above all else, especially towards the beginning of your relationship. The only problem is that he's kinda slow at figuring out that he's jealous, and so it's often you who picks up the cues before he does. And you know he tends to get sulky and avoidant when he feels bad but can't quite put his finger on why, so one day you decide to try to help him out of that. And so you approach him, telling him straightforward that you want to have sex with him. And pulling him out of his bubble takes a while of hesitation from his side, but when you take him by the hand to walk him to your bedroom, he doesn't protest. Crawling on top of him and making out with him, you wait until you can feel him somewhat relax underneath you. Your fingers of one hand tangled in his hair while the other roams his toned upper body has him melting underneath you, and just then you ask him whether he's jealous, in the sweetest tone you can muster. "I... I think so," he mumbles. "Do you need me to prove to you that I only want you?" you ask, and Yeosang nods. And you'd be surprised how quickly he can go from desperately clinging to you as you get him off slowly, humming praises for your boyfriend, to him flipping your positions around and with a "Sorry, I need this now" he starts thrusting into you, hard and slow. The pace as well as him suddenly taking charge of the situation makes you see stars, and his desperate but possessive groans could make you cum right then and there.

San:

Seems more helpless than anything else the second he comes back from picking up some takeout coffee for the both of you when he sees a complete stranger flirting with you, and you doing nothing to ward the guy off. And of course he'd be jealous at the sight, but he decides to play the tough guy for now, telling the guy off as he approaches. "Dude, what are you doing flirting with my girlfriend?" He puts an emphasis on his last word, and his voice sounds darker than usual. And though the stranger leaves immediately and you two continue your date as usual, something's off about San once you arrive home. Dragging you off to the bedroom by the sleeve of your shirt, he doesn't say anything and doesn't let you see his face right until he has you pinned to the bed, hovering above you and pressing a fiery kiss to your lips. Clothes don't stay on for long, and when he finally has his hips snapping into you, you have to slow him down from how rough he's being. "Fuck, that guy pissed me off," he mutters as he buries his face in your neck, leaving his mark there. When he has you coming undone underneath him, he doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you towards your next high, and your head starts to spin when you hear his next words, growled into your ear, "Don't ever flirt with another man again. Don't even look at someone else, or do you think anyone else could ever fuck you this good?"

Mingi:

Well if he isn't a wild card idk what. Gets jealous rather easily, and from him sulking like a kid to him taking charge and dragging you off to the nearest secluded space, anything could happen. It entirely depends on his mood that day, and a bit on the situation too. Mingi definitely needs you to comfort him if it's the former option, but the good news is that he'll be fine rather quickly after you assure him he has nothing to worry about. However, after you've been dating for a while and he's internalized that you're not gonna let someone else take you away from him, that helplessness soon turns into anger at whatever guy is flirting with you. And so one night when you're out with friends, all being a bit tipsy and this one guy just won't stop giving you all of his attention, Mingi eventually shoots up from his seat and drags you to the restrooms without an explanation. Kisses you feverishly after locking up the stall he entered with you, and only when you ask him what's wrong he gives you an explanation. "I don't like the way that guy looks at you. It pisses me off," he hisses, before going right back to kissing you. His hand finding your core underneath your clothes in no time, he starts fingering you, even teasing you about how you're already wet for him, and eventually he'll flip you around so he can grind his clothed bulge against your ass as he gets you off, relishing in the way you're desperately trying to suppress all noises.

Wooyoung:

Big switch energy so this can go one of two ways, but after the initial deep conversation you had about jealousy and how you can trust each other despite that feeling sometimes arising, the one thing that's for sure is that you're gonna resolve it with sex.  Even when the jealousy is barely even there, just like earlier today when you had commented to your boyfriend on how handsome one of Wooyoung's friends looks in his latest insta post, he doesn't miss the opportunity to seek proof that at the end of the day you only have eyes for him.  "And what about me?" he'll asks as he walks up to you from behind, hands put on your waist and his lips ghosting above your neck. The tone of his voice gives his intentions away immediately, and it doesn't take long for him to spin you around in his hold so he could kiss you, dragging you off to the nearest surface to have sex with you on (whether that's the bed, the sofa, or the dining table he doesn't care). And it really all depends on your mood whether he'll pin you against it, making you beg for him until he's satisfied, or put all the power into your hands and let you have his way with him until he's the one whining for your touch. One way or the other, the reason for his jealousy will soon be forgotten, because now all that matters is you and him chasing pleasure together.

Jongho:

You're at a party hosted by a mutual friend of yours, and from the moment you dressed up at home you've known that your outfit choice today is doing something to your boyfriend from the looks he's been giving you. You like the attention, you're not gonna lie, and you can imagine what this night will lead to once you're back in the comfort of your own home, after making him stare at you all evening. However, what you didn't expect were the death glares he's been giving one of your male childhood friends who's been occupying you ever since you walked into that party. You know Jongho isn't the type to get jealous easily, but when he does he usually struggles with expressing it. However, you also know your boyfriend will usually do the right thing anyway, and so when he pulls you into the empty kitchen and locks the door behind himself, you expect him to simply tell you about his feelings. What you certainly do not expect is him backing you up against a counter with a possessive stare glued to your lips. "What's wrong...?" Kisses you instead of answering your question and makes your head spin from the way he runs his hands down your body alone. There's need and anger behind his actions, and in no time he has you pressed up against the kitchen counter, facing the wall now, both your pants and underwear pulled down just enough so he could fuck you from behind, teasing you with just his tip until he has you begging for more, and this really is just what he needed to alleviate his unnecessary feelings of jealousy...

[gremlingottoosilly]

Under the Christmas tree [dark!141 x fem!Reader] (Secret Santa fic)

Secret Santa gift for @crash-and-live 141 had a wonderful time taking their combat medic to be their captive barracks bunny instead. Now, the Sergeants have decided you will make a wonderful gift for their COs. CW and Tags: Dub-con, poly!141, inappropriate celebration of Christmas, power imbalance, bondage, slight BDSM.

Gaz was always an expert on knots. 

Fancy little ribbons and bows – not so much. He prides himself on being suspiciously quick to adapt to the changing environment, yes, but learning how to tie bows when your little captive is acting just a tad bit dismissive towards the whole idea is…hard. Not as hard as hanging down the rope on a moving helicopter, but…

— Come, luv. Stop strugglin’ 

He smiles, all teeth and no lies, when you – his favorite medic, the best thing ever happening to this bloody team – started meowling something about the circulation and cutting off the bloodstream and how you don’t exactly like not only being held in the basement of the base but also being tied up…he looks at you and just knows he can’t resist booping you on the nose, kissing your perfect fuckin cheeks while Soap already has his hands in your hair, gently brushing it to put even more ribbons and bows. Red, just like on a Christmax gift. 

You’re a bloody gift. 

— I ken ye don’t like sittin’ like this, but Lt needs pick me up, aye? 

Soap smiles when you struggle just a bit more, your tied hands brushing against his stomach as you slowly buck your hips back. Trying to get just a tiny bit of stimulation, sneaky little lass – this is why he loves you, so smart and so adorably dumb at the same time. The best thing that ever happened to them is that you still act like you don’t enjoy being their shared chewing toy. They can agree it’s just a bit of a stretch from your previous working environment but hell, at least you’re not being shot at. Johnny’s hand gently moves from your head to your neck, adjusting the little red bow he made from the ribbons. They tried so hard to find the softest ever ribbons without a sharp edge and material that could cut off the circulation – even though Kyle was still doing his favorite knots that rendered you absolutely defenseless. You lick your lips and try to rock from side to side, making the ribbons a bit more loose – it doesn’t work, of course. Not like your team ever wanted you to have a say in their perverse desires, right? 

You fell into the Stockholm syndrome quite easily, especially since they were so stuck on always respecting your wishes(except for letting you out, of course) and never forcing anything too harsh…up until now, apparently. Making sure you’re on your best behavior because it’s Christmas, they have a small table set up – beer, whiskey, some snacks that you naively put on because you’re still not allowed to cook, and they don’t really care for home-cooked meals – and your shaking form, twisted in a somewhat sexy pose all because they needed a little Christmas present for their CO’s. 

Gaz brushes his hand on your tummy, gently pushing it down – you were prepared, of course, so much lube was out in your glossy folds, with Soap’s mouth buried deep between your legs, until you felt you’re going to pass out from the sheer amount of orgasm he was edging out of you. There is a reason why Johnny isn’t allowed to eat you out when Ghost isn’t around – his self-control is non-existent when push comes to your cunt and the tongue he can shove in. 

You feel like you’re going to burst when you finally hear the door opening. When you finally hear Captain – his tired, gruff voice, the way Ghost’s jacket silently hits the ground as they start to undress. Usually, you’re made to greet them with kisses and your soft lips on their cocks if they feel particularly tired. Usually, you’re made to wait for them in the bedroom, with their sergeants gently playing with you because, of course, you’re the property of all four of them, no matter the power dynamic. 

Nothing is usual now – you’re laying under a Christmas tree, naked and aroused, your pussy is all puffy and swollen from Soap’s tongue, your body is tied up with red ribbons Gaz was using. You want to be good for them, and so you lay here, hoping your obedience will be enough for a few more climaxes. Ghost is the first to put his hands on you. 

Kneading your breasts, gently forcing his rough fingers on your exposed nipples, you’re so sweet for him, so perfect, laid out like a beautiful gift – he can only groan in arousal as he slowly pushes the ribbons from your chest, taking in the view of your hardened buds and bite marks – evidence of Kyle taking his mark while he was tying you up. You might have been apprehensive about the whole idea, but you’re playing the role of a gift perfectly – just like you should. 

— Bloody hell, love. So pretty for us. 

— She was such a good girl for us, Lt. Didnae even resisted much. ~ — Is that right, sweetheart? 

You can only nod, your mouth stuffed with a pretty gag – you’re drooling all around it, looking fucking adorable as you try and look as harmless as possible. No reason to provoke them now when they already made it clear just how many orgasms they are going to take from you tonight. 

Ghost smiles under his mask, his hands moving to play with your lower tummy, squeezing the soft flesh and teasing your folds – you’re soft and pliable for them, spread out like a perfect toy. The most desirable thing they could ever find under a Christmas tree.

Price caresses your face with a softness you didn’t know a man of his position could have. He kisses you, and his whiskers tickle your soft skin – you aren’t sure if you can even handle him being so damn gentle about everything. He laughs as you try to wiggle out of Ghost’s grasp, their hands laying on your body – bruises and marks are scattered across your skin, making you the perfect canvas. Gosh, you’re beautiful – John doesn’t even know what they did to deserve such a little treat. — Such a pretty display for us, eh? 

— Sergeants outdid themselves this time. 

— You bet they did. Are you goin’ to behave for us, love? 

Price smiles when you whimper, spreading your legs like a pretty toy. Ghost already pushing you to the ground, forcing his way in between your thighs – you’re so open for them, vulnerable to the tip of his cock pressing in your folds already. Soap did a good job eating you out, even Simon’s cock won’t be too much – not after the way Gaz was spreading you on three of his fingers, smiling with each of your little attempts at moans. You know the night is going to be long.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Dorm Heads - With Zhongli Male Reader

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I'm sorry this took so long to post, Mystery anon! I've been super busy with personal stuff so I haven't had a lot of free time to work on this. I got pretty burned out at Idia's part and I couldn't be bothered to touch it up honestly; so, sorry about that. I hope this is what you wanted. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

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🌹 This hot headed boy was pretty surprised to find that the supposed magicless student from the orientation ceremony was not in fact magicless; seeing as you brought down a literal meteor and crushed the poor unsuspecting, feline resembling, monster. A meteor which appeared out of thin air and left no traces of damage behind after its impact. To say poor Riddle was confused and also fairly alarmed was an understatement. 

🌹 Your mannerisms were very strange to him. You're very well spoken and composed; yet you're seemingly wise beyond your years. Why are you speaking as if you're in your 80s? Riddle won't lie though; for an old man you're quite good looking. If he didn't have a reputation to uphold and examples to set, he could stare at you all day long.

🌹 A dragon? Well… that explains a lot. No wonder the Dark Mirror couldn't detect magic in you; or at least, that's what he reasons with himself. Please; he needs an explanation, he's so confused. Upon seeing your dragon form though… Riddle is once again confused. Are dragons supposed to be that long? Not that he's complaining though; the way you make a massive bed out of yourself is hard to contest.

🌹 T‐Treasure? Him? That's— Now look here; no amount of buttering him up will make you exempt from the rules, You— you scoundrel! Riddle is not easily tricked! Even if he is a tad bit more lenient with you, no he's not. You have no proof.

🌹 You have a son now too!? Just what else aren't you telling him!? Riddle doesn't mind Xiao at all actually. He thinks that they're both similar in how dedicated they are to their work. The adeptus seems to only tolerate him though; which, while disheartening, he completely understands.

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"How odd, the Dark Mirror perceived you as magicless, yet you summoned stone and earth just now. Just who are you..?"

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🦁 Right off the bat Leona could smell it and immediately he knew; that ain't a damn human. However, he couldn't seem to pinpoint just what you were exactly. You smelled similar to his one sided rival, Malleus, but it was different somehow. In the end, he just chalked it up to you being a fae of some kind. He did find it bizarre that the Dark Mirror claimed you to be magicless and directly after that you used magic. Whatever, he just wants a nap.

🦁 Why the hell are you talking like that? You sound like Diasomnia's Vice Dorm Head. Seriously, who in the world says ‘quite’ anymore. But, Leona doesn't mind you going off on one of your long winded story times about your past. Your deep voice is very smooth and soothing to his ears and has lulled him to sleep successfully every time.

🦁 HA! He knew it; his nose is never wrong after all. Well… maybe Leona was off by a little; but you're certainly not a human. A dragon though? No wonder you smelled similar to his nemesis; except your scent is more earthy than the dragon fae's. Your dragon form makes a very comfortable body pillow to cling onto. Yes, he is indeed speaking from experience. What was said experience, you ask? You were taking a nap in your dorm room while in your dragon form and woke up with a wild lion beastman clinging onto you.

🦁 Treasure, huh? Okay, be prepared for him to call you nicknames of his own. Noodle is one that Leona uses the most; a way to endearingly tease you about the foreign look of your dragon form. Another one he likes to use is old man/gramps; a tease on the strange way you speak.

🦁 Oh dear Seven; please not another Cheka, he doesn't think he can deal with another gremlin in this lifetime. Thankfully for Leona though, the avian adeptus is far older than his hyperactive nephew and awfully cold too. The lion beastman is pretty sure that Xiao doesn't like him, but you've continually assured him that your son actually really enjoys his presence.

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"Damn, you sure talk a lot, Gramps. Hah? I didn't tell ya to stop or anything, keep talkin' I'm almost asleep."

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🐙 His immediate impression of you was actually very positive! You seemed incredibly knowledgeable and well spoken. But what really caught Azul's attention was your apparently unrecognizable magic. The Dark Mirror proclaimed you magicless and yet shortly after the proclamation you displayed an exceptional control over stone and earth when you suddenly summoned a large stone pillar to attack your rampaging familiar. Color him intrigued.

🐙 My, what a strange way of speaking you have; are you perhaps anything like Diasomnia's Vice Dorm Head where you're far older than you appear? Azul actually doesn't find your mannerisms all that strange to be honest, he thinks it just gives a certain charm to you.

🐙 Oh, so you're a dragon are you? Would you perhaps be interested in signing a contract with him? It's for your benefit, he swears. No? Damn. Your dragon form reminds him a bit of various aquatic animals that populate the Coral Sea. Don't mind him calling you any names of fish you've never heard of, okay. Sometimes, if he's tired enough, Azul will allow you to cuddle with him in your dragon form. It's quite comfortable, so he doesn't mind too much.

🐙 Azul doesn't mind giving nicknames to people, but he's not too used to receiving from anyone other than Floyd and sometimes Jade. So when you refer to him as your treasure, he's caught off guard and pretty flustered. He'll never not be red in the face when you call him by that pet name, but he has a few of his own for you. Oarfish is one that he uses often, mostly in a teasing sense. Another is Ropefish, this one is used sparingly, he never told you why though.

🐙 Xiao… does not like him. The adeptus made it very clear upon their first meeting when he held the blade of his polearm to the poor cecaelia's throat and fixed him with the sharpest glare Azul had ever seen. It would seem that you told him about the whole contract debacle that went down before his overblot and your son wasn't going to forgive him any time soon.

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"Are you perhaps interested in making a contract with me? My services are quite high quality and will certainly benefit you in the future. Eh? S‐shady? Me?"

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🪲 Kalim thought that you were really cool when he first saw you at the entrance ceremony! Not only did you help him put the fire on his butt out, you also summoned a huge meteor out of nowhere! “‘I will have order!’” You sounded so cool! Ah… but wait– didn't the Dark Mirror say that you were magicless? Oh whatever, it doesn't matter anyway.

🪲 Why do you talk like you're old? You look way too young to talk like that; maybe around Professor Crewel's age but that in itself is a stretch. Expect a lot of questions from Kalim; like a lot. How old are you really? Are you a fae? Were you raised by your grandparents? What do you mean you don't know what omg means? How did you get your hair so shiny? Why do you wear clothes like that? Where are you from? Do you have a job? What do you do for work? Why are you looking at him like that? Huh… who's Hu Tao?

🪲 A Dragon!? That's so cool! Our precious boy was completely blindsided by the revelation that you were, in fact, not a human. When you reveal your dragon form to him Kalim is ecstatic, attempting to wrap his arms around your now massive form. Most times you'll be lounging on his massive bed while in your dragon form as he lays in the middle of your coiled body; running his fingers through the fur on your neck and pressing kisses to your snout.

🪲 While he certainly doesn't mind receiving nicknames and pet names, actually he loves it, it makes him happy, but Kalim isn't one to give nicknames himself, he prefers to use their birth names because it feels more intimate. However, he's not against it when you call him your treasure, he's very happy, it makes him feel all warm and bubbly inside. He might call you Cobra from time to time but it definitely won't be too often.

🪲 You have a kid? Can he meet them!? Please, please, please! Yes? Yay! Your poor emo son was immediately glomped by the eldest prince of the scorching sands as soon as he entered the room. Kalim was so excited that he didn't even let the adeptus speak before he vomited questions at him. Xiao actually didn't mind him at all, the golden retriever-like boy reminded him of a certain oni he once met in the Casm in Liyue.

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"Why do you talk like you're old but look so young? Are you a fae like Lilia? What kind? Can I see your wings? Am I allowed to ask that? Wait! Was that rude!? I'm sorry!"

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👑 Vil actually had a very positive but slightly strained impression of you. You were very well put together; a foreign beauty from another land if you will. Well dressed, well spoken and dashingly handsome; it would be a lie to say that he felt a bit threatened by your arrival to the NRC. Not only were you undeniably attractive though, you possessed an unknown magic that the Dark Mirror couldn't even identify. You were marvelous but mysterious, beautiful yet dangerous. He couldn't help but find himself lost in those glowing amber eyes as you summoned a translucent shield around yourself.

👑 Goodness you're like that Lilia fellow from Diasomnia, only taller, far more charming and much less with the times. Truly, your lack of knowledge about modern technology and tendency to forget your wallet is astonishing. You're like an old man trapped in a young man's body. Don't worry though, Vil will do his best to lay it all out clearly for you.

👑 I'm sorry, you're a what? Could you repeat that darling, Vil doesn't quite think he heard you right. Oh, a dragon, well… okay. He's never seen a real dragon before but something about that form of yours seems a bit… off should he say? You actually resemble more of a snake in his opinion. He won't cuddle with you in your dragon form, unfortunately. His clothes are far too expensive to be covered in dragon fur; but he will give you a few pets from a good distance away. Take what you can get, man.

👑 I need you to know that Vil is the fairest of them all, he's heard it all by now. Well… he thought he did. It wasn't really the pet name but the sincerity in that loving tone you used when you called him your treasure. Oh, how it made him swoon! You rascal, flattery will get you everywhere with him.

👑 Xiao… is afraid of him. One time, you left the two of them alone for ten minutes and came back to a trashed room, a grinning Vil and a beautified yaksha that was trembling in embarrassment and rage. Your poor emo son was holding himself high up and far away from the beautiful man by hanging onto his winged jade spear that was stabbed into the wall. The Pomfiore prefect was right though, green really is Xiao's color.

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"Are you sure you're a dragon? I've never heard of dragon being quite so... oddly shaped. No– I'm not saying you look bad, you're very majestic and dare I say intimidating, I simply haven't ever seen a dragon like you before."

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💀 He recognized you from somewhere; he was sure of it, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. From his tablet, Idia watched as the Dark Mirror addressed you as magicless; though, shortly after, you summoned a pillar of dark brown and amber colored stone to subdue your fire spewing familiar. You were so familiar, yet he couldn't think of where from, it was like some divine intervention was preventing it. Weird….

💀 You… How are you so clueless about technology? Just where the hell are you from that you don't know what a phone is? Your young appearance betrays your age too… You're like an irl anime character! Idia is absolutely raving! Hold on; let him write down a couple catchphrases and design you a costume! Don't worry, he'll teach you all he knows about modern tech as long as you go to this upcoming cosplay convention with him. You can be his main shielding healer from ‘Outworld Collision’!

💀 A dragon? Okay… so? Diasomnia's Dorm Head is kind of a dragon, so what's there to be surprised about? Your dragon form is a bit strange looking, but it's not like he'd actually tell you that; then again he's seen a lot of weird fantasy shit in the media he consumes on the daily, so he has no real reason to comment. Idia enjoy sitting in the middle of your coiled up serpentine body as he plays his games and reads his light novels; enthusiastically explaining the plot as he goes.

💀 T‐teasure? Your treasure? This poor man just about died when you called him that pet name for the first time. You thought he was so valuable that you compared him to treasure? Hold on, give Idia a second so he can compose himself, he's absolutely blue screening right now. 

💀 Your son actually still has yet to meet Idia; he always psyches himself up to meet the yaksha but then chickens out at the last minute. He's just worried that if Xiao doesn't like him then you'll change your mind about being with him. It's not that he thinks the adeptus would purposely try and break the two of you up, he's just super paranoid.

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"T‐treasure? Me? Ah... t‐thank you... I t‐treasure you as well; you mean a lot to me. Um, g‐give me a second, I'll give you a nickname too.."

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🐲 Malleus, of course, hadn't attended the orientation ceremony due to not receiving an invitation, however Lilia had told him all about you when he returned to Diasomnia. He was very intrigued to hear about how you didn't seem to be human despite your appearance. As well as how the Dark Mirror had mistakenly labeled you as magicless as you seemed to display expert control over stone and earth. You truly lived up to expectations when he finally met you during his midnight walk around Ramshackle. You were quite the beauty as well.

🐲 Your disposition didn't faze him in the slightest. If anything, it just confirmed Malleus’ assumptions that you certainly weren't a human. He and Lilia speak in the exact same way as you, so he has no reason to be concerned nor intrigued about it. However, your habit of forgetting your wallet is a bit vexing.

🐲 You're… a dragon? Really!? Oh, you have absolutely no idea just how extatic he is to meet another dragon! Er, well, he isn't exactly a dragon, but he is close to it. Whenever you show him your dragon form, he's even more in awe of you than he was before. Truly, you were the most majestic creature he has ever had the pleasure to bear witness to. He'll happily show you his own dragon form too; expect to set aside a few hours once every week so that you and Malleus can cuddle together in said forms.

🐲 Your Treasure, you say? My my, you're quite charming aren't you? Now, Malleus isn't one to be easily flustered, but knowing how important treasures are to dragons, you're practically getting down on one knee when you call him that. Of course, he's not cruel enough to leave the sentiment unreturned, so he's taken to calling you his jewel or his fallen star in reference to you coming from another world.

🐲 Believe it or not, Xiao actually tried to kill him upon their first meeting. The yaksha had mistakenly thought that he was a demon that had somehow followed you all the way here. Thankfully though, you calmed your son down, explained the situation and introduced the two. Malleus actually took quite the liking to him despite the initial frosty reception; saying how the adeptus reminded him of a more quiet version of Sebek.

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

"My, look at you. Such a gorgeous mane of fur, those glossy brown scales, curled horns of glowing amber, and those cute whiskers you have. What a magnificent creature you are, my darling."

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part1. my new roommate

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you`ve got a new roommate as you moved for uni, you are trying to built a descent relationship with her but she is stubborn. the main problem is that she makes you really nervous.

・❥・ genre: grumpy x sunshine

・❥・ word count: 2k

✎ warnings: drug use (weed), smoking, swearing

RIDE ON ME masterlist

after moving to another city for university, you found out that there was no room in the dormitory and you were put on the waiting list. the dormitory staff reported that the approximate waiting time for a place in a room is about 2-3 months. unfortunately, you weren't accepted to the university right away due to problems with documents, so booking a bed beforehand didn't make any sense, because you could be refused by university at any time.

however, everything has its advantages, living in your own apartment provided those: you cannot worry about the curfew, your things will not suddenly disappear, smoking was not prohibited, although you tried to rid yourself of this disgusting habit - periodic slips were not an exception, unfortunately.

that's why you decided to find a place to stay a week before the train to the new city. either housing on the outskirts of the city, which would entail an hour and a half to get to the university or renting for two – that’s your options that would fit your budget. so, the neighbor it is. you tried to reassure yourself that this is also better than a dormitory, in your case you could at least choose a roommate...

after several days of searching, you came across an ad in which it was stated that a 23-year-old female is looking for a roommate, the apartment has 2 bedrooms and a kitchen, there are appliances, shared utilities. according to the map, it was only 20 minutes away from the university. isn't that great? you immediately responded to the ad and a girl named Vi gave you all the necessary details. if you only knew how much she would change your life.

--------------------------------------------------------

"I'll be there in 15 minutes. see you later" - you sent a text to your future roommate, exhaling from tension, you were nervous before meeting her. she wasn't very chatty on text, you didn't even see her pic, if it wasn't for the verified website, you'd think you were walking into a trap for some pervert.

"no, no, come on, she's probably just very quiet, it`s even for the better, you won`t disturb each other" - you thought to yourself - "no need to make myself nervous, this is a new step in my life and I'm sure that everything will be great"

after you arrived at the station of a new city, your phone vibrated. this is a text from Vi - "ok".

“are the letters expensive or something?” - you said, pushing your suitcase, the poor thing's wheels came apart from the load of the amount of your things.

indeed, exactly 15 minutes later, you were standing at the door of your new apartment, but you could feel an unpleasant excitement throughout your body. you were so tense that the air could be cut around you, exhaling slowly, you mumbled under your breath

“hello Vi, I'm your new neighbor, it's nice to finally meet you in person”, “hello Vi, I'm your new neighbor..”. "enough, why am I nervous at all, it's not that we're going to actually live together, I might not even see her, all day at university, after that I have a job to find, she's just the girl in the next room"

after another minute of self-soothing speech, you finally knocked.

“it`s open” - a voice from inside, somewhat breathless, you noticed. you entered the apartment, from the threshold you smelled the mixture of sweat and weed, this aroma was so unexpected that you thought for a second about whether you had come in the right place. a moment later a muscular figure appeared in front of you, a rather stocky girl with short pink hair was looking at you, she was a little sweaty, her hands were tied with bandages that go under boxing gloves. it's not at all what you expected...

“are you going to keep staring or will you finally come in?” - the girl turned to you a little annoyed

“yes, yes.. hello, Vi, I'm your new neighbor, it's nice to finally...” - you started to say the already prepared phrase with a strained smile, but you were immediately interrupted.

“I know who you are, come in and close the door behind you”

rude.

“follow me, I'll show you your room and the kitchen," - Vi said and immediately went to the left of the exit. out of anticipation, you didn't even take off your outer clothes, but immediately ran after her. the tour took only 30 seconds, you realized that you definitely won't communicate more than you did by text.

“thank you, and your room is on the right of the exit then?” - you asked, trying to keep the same tight smile on your face.

Vi's eyebrow arched – “well, obviously, I see you are smart” - she threw the phrase with painful sarcasm. - "any other questions or can I go now?"

“no, that's all, thanks...” you answered slowly as your smile faded from your face.

“I'll be in my room, if the music disturbs you - knock twice” - you just managed to nod in response. left alone in the middle of your empty room, you felt that you would definitely not become friends.

after such a "warm reception" you decided to start unpacking, before that you cleaned the entire room and the toilet. Vi's music was really playing loudly the whole time, but somehow the thought of making a remark about it scared you a little. after an hour of unpacking, you finally looked around your room.

“very cozy, a few string lights, posters and it will be just like at home” - you were very proud of what you did, but your thoughts were interrupted by a rumbling in your stomach. no one canceled dinner, that's when you had a brilliant idea. even though Vi is not very friendly at first glance, you decided to follow your grandmother's advice - good food always brings people together. after a quick trip to the store, you came home with all the ingredients for pasta carbonara.

"an Italian dinner in less than half an hour is perfect." when all the ingredients were ready - you started cooking, until suddenly you felt this scent again... weed, so it`s treu then, she does smoke in the apartment, this was not in the ad. not that it really bothers you, but actually you just wish you did too.

half an hour later, everything was ready, you found the dishes and necessary utensils, prepared everything for two and went to Vi's door. your palms were a little sweaty from nervousness, for some reason before every thought that there would be even minimal communication with Vi – you were nervous. you stopped in front of the door and as soon as you thought to knock, for some reason you started to worry even more. you started to rub your hands together and shuffle a little, when all of a sudden, the music in the room stopped.

“do you understand that I see you standing outside my room?” - Vi's voice in almost half a tone sounded from the door.

"fuck, there is a gap under the door. this is so embarrassing" - you flinched

“yes, um, sorry, I didn't want to distract from... what whatever you are doing there... well, I prepared dinner... for the two of us. yes. and I would be very happy if you would join me” - you said with a smile, as if she could see you.

the pause of a few seconds seemed like an eternity as the door opened in front of your face and Vi's figure appeared in front of you close enough that you could feel her smell.

“why?” - this question confused you a little.

“well, I want to get to know you, I already understood that we will not communicate closely, but we will still share this apartment, so I think that this time will be useful for us” - you said with your head raised, you wanted to look confident, even though everything was trembling inside you.

unexpectedly for you, Vi smiled a little to herself. just now you noticed what a beautiful face she has, thick eyebrows, little tattoo, deep eyes and an attractive smile, her lips were like... "hey, enough, what am I thinking?" - you stopped yourself.

“ok”

“what?” - you returned to reality.

“dinner. ok. I'll be there in two minutes” - Vi closed the door in front of your face again.

"everything went well... I think..." - you began to reassure yourself, because at least she did agree.

exactly two minutes later Vi came to the kitchen, since there was no table for some reason, you sat down with a plate on the soft sofa in front of the TV. your roommate slowly walked over to the stove that had the food on it, while she was putting food for herself, you got a chance to get a closer look at her. she has a tattoo, it was very hot, the whole back was very well painted, Vi herself was wearing a white tank top that allowed you to admire her muscles a little better. you watched her muscles move depending on what she was doing, how her rather large hands handled the kitchen a little awkwardly. you smiled at this fact, and began to stare at her hands more carefully. they were so big, you started to wonder how they would feel on your body...

“like what you see?” - Vi smirked.

you snap back to reality, this is the third time in a day you're staring, what's going on?

“yes... NO! I mean, yes, but…” - you blushed - “I'm just thinking about what kind of sport you do” – "great, and who is the possible pervert here now?"

Vi smiled again - “boxing, there is a punching bag in my room” - she liked the reaction she made on you.

at dinner you spoke little, but you spoke, it`s a beginning. she didn't tell much, she mainly asked where you came from, what university you're going to and what major.

“international relations, ha. why am I not surprised?" Vi laughed. her laugh was also attractive, just great, you were already nervous around her, now that is added to your list.

“what is this supposed to mean? why are you laughing?” - you asked in surprise.

“your approaches to people and the way you communicate are very... diplomatic,” - Vi admitted.

“thanks, I think...”

after Vi finished her portion, she was about to leave, when you called her – “and what about dessert?”

“I'm already full, but thank you” - "that smile again, why does it affect me so much" - you thought.

you went to the fridge and took a cupcake, then handed it to Vi, hoping she wouldn't notice how you blushed – “maybe you'll want something sweet at night” - you said with a smile, looking into her eyes.

“yes” - Vi looked at you with that smirk again  – “I might want to”

she took the dessert from your hands, your fingers touched each other for a few seconds, you felt as if you were electrocuted. how can a person you saw for the first time in your life evoke so many feelings? after a short silence, you decided that you should go to bed earlier, because tomorrow is an important day.

“okay, I'm glad you liked dinner, I'll clean up and go to bed, I have to go to university tomorrow, so if possible, don't turn on the music loudly” - you took your eyes off Vi.

“fine. good night, cupcake” - Vi's eyes looked at you with a smile and went to her room, closing the door behind her.

“cupcake?”

[peachie-bumblebee]

FNAF SECURITY BREACH NSFW HEADCANONS

MAIN 4

MINORS DNI

getting back to my ROOTS with this one!! hope my community is still out there- the dlc has brought back my love for the game :) i haven’t posted SB content in a LONG time so a reminder- I ONLY WRITE FOR CHARACTERS WHO PASS THE JACK HARKNESS TEST. They are OF AGE OR ABOVE, have HUMAN OR ABOVE INTELLIGENCE, and can VERBALLY GIVE INFORMED CONSENT. The SB animatronics are canonically sentient. None of the past ones are. okay- back to the content :D

CW: ONE PREGNANCY MENTION, KINK RELATED T0YS, SEMI-PUBLIC MENTIONS, DACRIPHILIA

GLAMROCK FREDDY

lord have mercy…

he’s the most virgin coded out of all of them. i’m sorry.

but do I think he’s a TOTAL virgin? no.

there are FREAKS out there (me writing this and y’all reading this-) who would 1000% show up to the pizzaplex just tryna get a piece of the fazballs

SORRY

he’s the type to silently get off in his dressing room and then get all embarrassed about it like there’s someone there to judge him

he’s an actual sweetheart in the sheets. he’s so so nice about everything. as we go down the list this DECREASES.

don’t push him too fucking hard tho. if you’re one of the ones who read my old fic Competition, you remember.

his fingers vibrate.

and so does that dick.

he’d turn it on inside of you and listen to you gasp before putting a hand gently over your mouth and hushing you.

he seems a lot like a gasper. maybe the occasional curse word coming out, but mostly praises of how good it feels.

i know he is a messy cummer. i’m right and that’s final.

he’d be absolutely humiliated after the fact and go get a wet washcloth asap, but it’s a very shocking amount anyway.

pregnancy isn’t a concern, but he’s still wary about cumming inside for some reason. he’s the type to make sure it’s okay like 3 times before he does it.

okay i lowkey think he’d be into getting handcuffed. i don’t know what handcuffs could genuinely hold him, but if you brought them out he’d be (figuratively) SWEATING

i think his eyes roll back when he cums. and i’m correct. eat me.

he’s the lead member but he’s humble about it… except a few times in bed. then he lets it go to his head(s). just a bit. ;)

if he was in a relationship he’d have a thing about his partner dressed in his merch

switch! but the most vanilla out of everyone- but remember, not completely.

…he’d eat his cum out of you.

no he is NOT gonna call you superstar during sex leave me ALONEEE

GLAMROCK CHICA

my biggest hc for her will and will always be that she has a MASSIVE toy collection. she is a toy girl. do i know how she gets them? not exactly.

but I DO know that they’re all pink and white and sparkly!

that doesn’t mean it’s all vanilla toys though (respect to the vanilla community but it is not me :) )

she does own a hot pink flogger and she WILL happily use it on a groupie or her partner.

she’s such a tease. she’s such a fucking tease jsghskbnsjh

doesn’t matter if she’s domming or subbing (60/40 ratio)

she’s a TEASE

and she giggles during sex

her whole bubbly pink happy girl thing doesn’t stop

she’ll put you in a bubblegum pink sex swing and use a big ass vibrator on you while giggling and telling you how cute you look

i know she likes pulling on nipples I KNOW SHE DOES

for those who used to ask- no, she can’t give head with her beak. and she’s not taking it off. sun/moon can’t give sloppy either BUT THEY MAKE IT WORK!

AND SHE DOES TOO!

she can fuck up the guitar with her fingers, what else do you think they can do?

she’s the type to pull you into a side room, hush you, finger fuck you, then send you on your way with a hug

i know for a FACT SHE WEARS A STRAP!

yes it IS glitter. it is also 9 inches.

and if you want more, she has more ways to give you that.

she’s also the type to get you front row tickets and put a remote control vibe in you so she can watch you squirm right in front of her.

she’s also a praiser, but there’s a lot of false sympathy in there too.

food aftercare. she wants to eat 3 pizzas with you. food is her love language

ROXANNE WOLF

YOU BETTER BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT!

she’s a dom. she just is.

god I miss that fic I wrote.

she’s so fucking cocky in bed. it’d be insufferable if she wasn’t so hot and so good at sex.

if who she’s fucking is AFAB she’s EATING IT!!!! YOU CAN BET ON IT THAT SHE DOES MUNCH!

if they’re AMAB then you can expect her to lean them back on her chest and give them the most intense handjob of their life.

in general, the animatronics are stronger than people, so when they’re rough they’re still not going at their hardest. that would actually just kill you.

she’s a show-off. she’ll leave marks in very noticeable places on purpose so that everyone knows that you’re getting fucked by THE Roxanne Wolf

she’s a hair puller. I just know she likes to wrap her claws up in it and pull.

don’t fucking pull hers though, she doesn’t like that shit.

yeah her tail wags when you eat her out, what about it? don’t point that shit out, it’s embarrassing to her.

she curses so much during sex.

the strap is purple and THICK. if you want more then she’ll just hit up Chica for a new one. Chica is more than happy to help. and more than happy to watch.

she’s only the jealous type if its some rando loser. THEN she’ll fuck the living shit out of you while telling you how she’s the best and making you repeat it back to her.

if it’s Monty or Chica? If you’d be into it too, then yeah, she’ll share.

…Freddy is more of a hard sell, but it’s not a hard no.

it’s more of a “Yeah yeah yeah but why do you wanna fuck the dumbass bear? Why him? Monty’s got a bigger one, I’ll tell you that.”

yeah but roxy baby his doesn’t vibrate

she comes off a winning high after a particularly close race, she’s going to go feral on you

with those eyes of hers, she can find you wherever you go. so if she’s randomly in the mood and her partner is there, even halfway across the pizzaplex, she’s on her way to pull you into her room and take some “private time.”

MONTGOMERY GATOR

hhhhhhooOOOHHH BOY

y’all remember the start of SB where he’s fucking up his room?

prepare to be destroyed HSGDHJSGBDNH

degrades. degrades the fuck out of you. it’s a toss up between Roxy and Monty who’s the more cocky, but he’s certainly meaner.

LONG ASS DICK. IT’S HUGE WITH ALL SORTS OF BUMPS AND RIDGES AND SHIT.

head pusher IF you’re okay with it. consent is mandatory.

he’d grab all his partner’s hair if they had any to grab, even just an INCH and go ham.

his long ass dick matches his long fucking tongue.

loves giving lethal backshots LOOOOOOOORD HAAAAAAAAVVVEEEE MEEERCYYYYYY

he’s not only breaking the bed, it’s straight up sawdust. idk how his partners live but they certainly live happily after.

as cocky as he is, he’s not exactly a selfish lover by any means. yeah, he’ll edge you, but he also likes to get his partner real sloppy if you catch my drift.

he aims to make you cry from pleasure. it’s straight up his goal.

i just know he knows EXACTLY where all the right spots are. you don’t even gotta tell him, inside or outside, no matter personal preference, he can always pinpoint his partner’s sweet spots

and then he proceeds to abuse the fuck out of that knowledge

he gets so jealous over Freddy, it’s insane

he sees his partner in his merch, he’s ripping it to shreds.

Roxy is less of a threat. That can be more of a collaborative effort.

he honestly doesn’t know how much of a freak in the sheets Chica is. If he had a threesome with her and she whipped out her chest of fun he’d be like “DAMN BITCH WHERE’D YOU GET ALL THOSE” and she’d be like “^-^ wanna see my buttplug collection? :>” LMFAOOO

GROANER. he GROANS LIKE CRAZY

also a bit of a growl but NOT in the cringe tiktok way don’t worry

HOPE YALL ENJOYED!!! I really hope I can start to find my old community with this :)

[thewadapan]

So why did Transformers One bomb?

Look, I'm just going to say it right off the bat: no, Transformers One is not the best Transformers movie of all time. I am (gritting my teeth) very happy for every single Transformers fan except me, who all seem to have liked it, and most of whom seem to have loved it. I agree that, as a production, it meets some baseline level of technical competence. It's a perfectly fine movie.

It's also the worst-performing Transformers movie Paramount has ever made.

Hopefully, now that its theatrical run has unceremoniously ended, people aren't going to try to rip me to shreds for theoretically threatening this multi-million-dollar film's box office revenue some miniscule amount by sharing a few teensy weensy complaints with my fifty followers.

Because I do just have a few little nitpicks, which I've tried my best to communicate, over the next 17,000 words of this post.

If you're not a Transformers fan, sorry, this essay is mostly written with the assumption that you've seen Transformers One. However, it might still be of some interest as a window into the current state of the franchise. I've written a basic plot summary of the movie to bring you up to speed, in that case. Because Transformers One purports to be the perfect introduction to the story, no homework needed, I've also done you the courtesy of elucidating background context as needed—think of this less as a review, and more as a history lesson, or maybe a "lore explained" YouTube video. After all, that's pretty much all that Transformers One is.

(And if farcically long posts aren't really your thing, you might prefer to listen to the special episode of Our Worlds are in Danger where my pals and I chatted about the film. Many of the hottest takes and silliest bits in this essay are shamelessly stolen from Jo and Umar.)

We've been waiting for Transformers One for a very long time. It's the first animated Transformers film to get a theatrical release since The Transformers: The Movie came out in 1986. It first entered development around a decade ago. Many fandom members I know online got to see it as far back as June. Its US premiere was in September; those of us in the UK had to wait a full extra month before seeing it, for no clear reason. This is a film which purports to show, in broad strokes, for the first time on the big screen, the origin of the Transformers: where they come from, who they are, and why they're fighting.

By the end of its runtime, Transformers One does not actually answer these questions. Don't get me wrong, it takes great pains trying to answer a lot of different, related questions—just ones which nobody was really asking in the first place: What does the word "Autobots" mean, if not "automobile robots"? What does the word "Decepticons" mean, if they're not actually deceitful? Why is he called "Optimus Prime"? Why is he called "Megatron"? If they were friends, why did they fall out? Why does Starscream sound Like That? Where does Energon come from? If "Prime" is a title, what were the other Primes like? How do Transformers transform?

Writer Eric Pearson, coming onto the project as an outsider to Transformers, describes having to go to Hasbro to ask these kinds of questions:

they had a script that outlined the story that they wanted to tell. I knew Optimus Prime and Megatron and I knew Bumblebee as well, or B. I had to ask about some of the other deeper ones, the mythology, “what exactly is the Matrix of Leadership?” Stuff like that.

See, Hasbro does in fact have the answers written down somewhere. The story as I understand it goes something like this. During the wild west of the '80s and '90s, Transformers "canon" was largely a by-the-seat-of-your-pants consensus-based affair between the freelance writers and copywriters the toy company would bring on to advertise their toys. That changed around the turn of the millennium, when late later-CEO Brian Goldner saw how Hasbro's licensed IP lines (such as Star Wars) were more financially successful and realised they could make more money by aggressively promoting their own in-house IP, which they didn't have to pay licensing fees for. (For the curious, a similar thought process at rival toy company Lego was what led to their creation of BIONICLE.)

The guy basically singlehandedly managing the Transformers brand at the time, Aaron Archer, eventually set to reconciling all the self-contradictory lore surrounding Transformers, an endeavour which dovetailed into the creation of the HasLab internal think-tank (best known for Battleship, the 2012 store-brand Michael Bay knockoff which was a failure critically and commercially but not in my heart) and ultimately the creation of the so-called "Binder of Revelation", an internal story bible which cost over $250,000 to produce and has strongly influenced nigh on every piece of Transformers media released since, but which we hadn't actually seen until it got leaked a week ago. As it turns out, the document itself (compiled mostly by marketers and toy designers) is patently useless to any writer: it's a typo-ridden internally-inconsistent wishy-washy mess that mostly describes the characters in terms of a made-up form of Transformers astrology that has otherwise never seen the light of day.

So although the Binder is the baseline story bible for most modern Transformers media, its influence isn't direct per se; it's more accurate to describe it as being an elaborate game of telephone between high-profile cartoons, comics, and other internal documents, with the Binder itself apparently just sitting in a drawer somewhere at Hasbro; Eric Pearson says that he never received a "binder", with the "script" he mentions either being the earlier draft from Andrew Barrer and Gabriel Ferrari (the guys who originally pitched the story), or some other unseen internal document. Director Josh Cooley, however, definitely seems to have been physically handed the Binder or its mass-market adaptation:

I knew that there was a lot of origin to be told, and when I first started, [Hasbro] gave me the Transformers Bible. I could not believe how big it was. I was like, "This is way more than I ever anticipated."

When trailers first dropped for Transformers One, a lot of my friends who are savvy were immediately like: "Oh, this is a weirdly faithful adaptation of the Binder of Revelation, huh."

I. The One True Origin of the Transformers

Half of the people reading this are Transformers fans, and half of you literally could not give less of a shit about Transformers, so if you're in the 'former group (so to speak), you'll just have to bear with me while I bring the rest of us up to speed.

Before the Transformers' civil war begins, Cybertron is being oppressed by the Quintessons. The Quintessons are a race of five-faced aliens (as in, not Transformers), who execute everyone they come across, first introduced in The Transformers: The Movie, presiding over a kangaroo court on a castaway world. In the followup cartoon five-parter "Five Faces of Darkness", writer Flint Dille established that, gasp, they were actually the original creators of the Transformers! But basically nobody else at the time was particularly compelled by this idea, it seems, with most fans preferring the more mythological origin story conceived by Bri'ish writer Simon Furman for the Marvel comics. I think people kind of just didn't like to think of the Transformers as being robots—mass-produced, a fabrication, programmed—as opposed to an alien race of thinking, feeling beings like us. But because the cartoon was important to many kids, a lot of early-2000s media tried to reconcile the cartoon and comic origin stories by stating that the Quintessons didn't actually create the Transformers; rather, they simply colonised the planet early in its history and pretended to be the Transformers' creators, until the truth came out and they got kicked offworld. This is how the Binder of Revelation ultimately paid lip service to the Quintessons. In Transformers One, the Quintessons are just sort of here, they're these evil aliens secretly skimming Energon from its miners, they don't speak English (or whichever language the film was dubbed into in your market region), they're just these nasty societal parasites.

Energon is Transformers fuel. In the original cartoon, it was these glowing pink cubes the Decepticons were always trying to produce using harebrained Saturday-morning-cartoon energy-stealing devices. There was a Cold War going on, America had just been through an "energy crisis", maybe you're old enough to remember any of that. Transformers are these big, complicated machines, so I guess the idea is they need this hyper-compressed superfuel to run off, and their homeworld has run out. By the time of the Binder of Revelation, the concept had been telephoned to the point where Energon is like the lifeblood of Primus or some shit.

Primus is the Transformers God—but not the kind of God you have "faith" in, rather this actual guy whose existence is objectively known in various ways. He transforms into a planet, that's kind of cool, right? Where does Primus come from? Look, it doesn't matter, he's like, the God of Creation, he was there at the start of time. He created all of the Transformers. All the other species in the galaxy, though, they evolved naturally thanks to "science". Actually wait, didn't that Quintus Prime guy go around the universe seeding all the planets with different kinds of Cybertronian life? That's why they're called Quintessons. See, now you know. Who's Quintus Prime?

Okay, so the Thirteen Original Transformers, or the Primes, are the thirteen original Transformers created by Primus. Most of them correspond to different kinds of Transformer: Nexus Prime is the god of Transformers who can combine, Onyx Prime is the god of Transformers who turn into animals, Micronus Prime is the god of Transformers who are small, and Solus Prime is the god of Transformers who are women. You might remember the Primes from Revenge of the Fallen, although there were only seven of them there for whatever reason.

Honestly, The Fallen was the only one who mattered for a long time. The whole reason there's thirteen of them is because thirteen is kind of an unlucky number, right? Twelve would've been fine. But throw in a thirteenth guy, and he betrays everyone, he's this fucked up evil guy. In the Binder of Revelation, though, the Thirteenth Prime is his own special guy shrouded in mystery, because they kind of liked the idea that Optimus Prime would secretly turn out to have been the Thirteenth Prime all along, and he just forgot or something, because that means he has the divine right of Primes. In IDW's 2010s comic-book reboot, the Thirteenth Prime was called "The Arisen"—in reference to that one line in The Transformers: The Movie, "Arise, Rodimus Prime!" (this margin is too narrow to explain who Rodimus Prime is). Towards the end of his run, writer John Barber did some actually interesting stuff with the concept, playing with the ambiguity over whether-or-not Optimus Prime was actually the chosen one.

All of Optimus Prime's immediate predecessors as Autobot leaders, Sentinel Prime, Zeta Prime, the lineage seen in "Five Faces of Darkness"... they're all false Primes. They're Primes in name only. In fact, IDW had a whole procession of these cartoonishly evil dictators thanks to a few continuity errors leading to the addition of a couple of extra narratively-redundant fuckers. Transformers One tries to simplify it slightly by just saying that Zeta Prime was one of the Primes for real—occupying that thirteenth "free space"—and it was just Sentinel Prime who was only a normal Transformer pretending to be a Prime, then Optimus Prime who's a real boy.

But if he's not a Prime from the start, Optimus Prime needs another name in the meantime. In the '80s cartoon episode "War Dawn", before he was called Optimus Prime, he was called "Orion Pax". Have you noticed that Optimus Prime is kind of an odd-one-out amongst all the straightup-English-word names like "Bumblebee" and "Ratchet" and "Jazz"? That's because his name was one of a tiny handful from very early in the franchise's development, before writer Bob Budiansky came onboard and came up with identities for the vast majority of the toys. Practically everyone Bob Budiansky named is called like, "Bolts" or some shit, long before the characters even know of Earth, which has always just been a contrivance of the setting you're not supposed to think about.

Presumably to create a parallel with Orion Pax's transformation into Optimus Prime, someone at Hasbro in the 2010s came up with a new name for the bot who would become Megatron: "D-16". In real-world terms, this was nothing more than a dorky reference to the Megatron toy's original Japanese release being number 16 in the line ("D" stands for "Destron", which is what they call Decepticons in Japan). But in-universe, the name "D-16" was drawn from the sector of the mine where he worked. I don't get the impression it was originally intended to be part of a broader pattern.

Which is why I'm baffled as to what the hell the reasoning was behind Bumblebee's pre-Earth name, "B-127". There's this bizarre situation in the Bumblebee film, where the name "B-127" first cropped up, where literally every other bot gets a normal cool name with personality like "Cliffjumper" or "Dropkick" except for Bumblebee, who is stuck with this clunky sci-fi name until he makes friends with a human teenager on Earth and she gives him the name Bumblebee. I guess I don't find it confusing that the writers would (correctly) realise it's a bit weird for Bumblebee to be called Bumblebee on an alien planet where bumblebees don't exist. What I find confusing is that they didn't extend that logic to any other character.

So despite everything else in the franchise's direction pointing away from "robot" and towards "alien", Transformers One ends up with this ridiculous situation where two of the most important guys are, for practically the whole movie, simply referred to as "Dee" and "Bee", I guess because the writers correctly realised the numbers sound fucking stupid.

And if you squint, "Elita-1" sorta fits this naming scheme. But the great irony of it is that the very same cartoon episode which coined "Orion Pax" simultaneously established that Elita-1 also used to go by a different name: "Ariel"! Like the Little Mermaid. Y'know, because an "aerial" is a type of electrical component- oh, forget it.

By the time the script made it into Eric Pearson's hands, it's obvious that he simply was not thinking about it that deeply. He describes the genesis of a scene where Bumblebee introduces his imaginary friends, "A-atron, EP 5-0-8, and Steve." A-atron was impov'd by Keegan-Michael Key as a reference to one of his own skits on Key & Peele. Steve ("He's foreign.") was literally just because Pearson thought it would be funny. It's true that Steve is an inherently funny name, and I guess if you're struggling to come up with jokes of your own, it can be handy to fall back on something which is inherently funny.

And again, our silly answers to these silly questions beget yet more questions. If he started out as "D-16", then where did the name "Megatron" come from? And if all the Primes have epic made-up fantasy names, then surely that one guy can't just be called "The Fallen", right? That's not a name, that's an epithet. Unfortunately, someone at Hasbro had the bright idea to answer both these questions at once: The Fallen's real name was "Megatronus". Later, for consistency, they threw on the title, and we get "Megatronus Prime", which sounds like what a thirteen-year-old on deviantART in 2014 would call their Steven Universe fusion of Megatron and Optimus Prime. So you see, Megatron actually named himself after Megatronus Prime, famously the most evil of the Primes. In Transformers One, this is changed slightly so Megatronus is merely the strongest of the Primes, as part of its overall effort to make Megatron not look completely insane.

Which, it must be said, is a tall order. Better stories have tried and failed. Back in 2007, Scottish writer Eric Holmes came up with Megatron Origin, a perfectly-fine comic miniseries which drew heavily from the miners' strikes that took place in the UK from 1984-1985, coinciding with the inception of the Transformers franchise. In that comic, Megatron is a lowly miner who, through a series of chance events, winds up at the head of a dangerous political revolutionary movement.

For some reason—I guess because nobody had ever tried to make Megatron anything other than a bloodthirsty cackling madman before—this take on Megatron as a guy who rose up against a corrupt system became the defining interpretation of the character, copy/pasted pretty much wholesale into the Binder of Revelation. Orion Pax also opposes the system, and bonds with Megatron over it, but they disagree on how to fix it: Pax believes in peaceful reform, Megatron just loves to kill. In Transformers One, the problem everyone has with Megatron is basically "whoa, this guy's a little TOO angry!" and there's a point towards the end of the film where Megatron suddenly starts jonesing to kill literally anyone who stands in his way, because he's irrationally angry.

The core problem here—and it's kind of the Magneto problem, the Killmonger problem, whatever better-known example you care to insert here—is that these guys all fundamentally exist just to be a big villain who loves to kill people and who ultimately gets defeated, but the kids who grew up on this stuff in the '80s are now adults who are no longer satisfied with cardboard cutout villains. People like a complex villain, they like a villain who has a point. They like to root for both sides. And in fact, it's easier to sell more toys to people who are rooting for both sides, if your villain is just another kind of hero. But you don't really need to take the same effort with the good guys: they're good by design, righteous by nature. They don't need to stand for something, they just need to stand against the guy whose whole thing is that he loves to kill people.

But again, we're starting from a place where the evil faction—who half the planet will ultimately align themselves with—are literally called "Decepticons". It's a name you'd only ever call yourself ironically, maybe reclaiming it from your enemies. In this film, there's some tortured logic that implies they're called Decepticons because they were deceived by Sentinel Prime. Like if you met a gang of guys who call themselves "The Robbers", but it turns out to be because they got robbed one time, and they actually have zero intention of stealing from anyone.

The Autobots are easier, of course. "Auto" is a prefix that just means, like, the self, or whatever. And the most agreeably American ideal of all is selfishness the power of the individual, the freedom to seize one's own destiny. Prime's original '80s motto, "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings," is bastardised in Transformers One into the slightly less rolls-out-off-the-tongue "Freedom and autonomy are the rights of all sentient beings," because (I can only assume) they forgot to work the word "autonomy" earlier into the script. If they ever greenlit Transformers Three, I suppose the motto would have ended up as something like "Freedom, autonomy, ruthless efficiency, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope are the rights of all sentient beings." Even though bodily autonomy is one of the most salient motifs present in the film—all but referred to by name—I suppose the filmmakers were worried that you might think, when Prime says "freedom", that he actually means something completely different. So now you see! "Autobots" is actually the descriptive name of a political movement which believes in obviously good things. Like "Moms for Liberty".

Okay, so the cannier among you have probably spotted the mean rhetorical trick I'm pulling with this encyclopedia-entry-ass introduction. By sarcastically relitigating all the storytelling choices I dislike from the last 20 years of Transformers lore, I can build up a negative association with Transformers One without even reviewing the movie itself! On a subtextual level, I'm deliberately misattributing these bad ideas to the filmmakers, conveniently ignoring the mountains of evidence to suggest that they were just trying to make the best of whatever Hasbro handed them from on high. If anything—you might think—the filmmakers deserve even more credit, for spinning this shite into something even remotely good on the big screen.

Like, you'd be wrong, but I can see why you might think that.

II. The Spider-Verse of Transformers

Okay, I can see that I've spat in your soup. I'm sorry. There are lots of good bits in Transformers One. I can even think of one or two of them off the top of my head, without really racking my brains.

Maybe halfway through the film, there is one specific moment where the story suddenly promises to get good. You can pinpoint it down to the word, down to the frame even. Our heroes have just discovered that their planet's leader, Sentinel Prime, is a complete fraud who's been secretly exploiting them ever since they were born—and worse, castrated them by removing their transformation cogs. They are all very cross about this. Orion Pax expresses that he wants to come up with a plan to expose Sentinel Prime. Megatron is too angry to listen. Orion Pax asks, "Don't you want to stop him?" And Megatron replies, "No, I want to KILL him!" And there's like, a little tint of red creeping into the glow of his eyes.

Whoa. Chills. Up to this point in the film, Megatron has been kind of surly at times, but he's otherwise a generic kids' movie protagonist. He's often chipper. He makes quips. He has this banter with Orion Pax where he's always complaining. It's literally that one "Optimist Prime"/"Negatron" comic, committed to film. Like I'm not even being facetious, one of the film's few obligatory "emotional moments" has Elita-1 sit Orion Pax down and say, "You know what I love about you? You always see the bright side. Like you're some kind of OPTIMIST or something." And then later completely unrelatedly God gives him the mandate of heaven and says "ARISE, OPTIMUS PRIME!" Y'see, as originally conceived, "Optimus" is the word "Optimum" if it was a name, which is why people sometimes localise his name as "Best #1". But it's genuinely kind of cute to reverse-engineer the etymology as coming from "optimist", I guess. Like, it's stupid, but it's cute.

Argh, I got distracted with naming minutia again! Entirely my bad. That's the last time, I promise. Where was I? Right, we'd just found out that Megatron is kind of scary. Brian Tyree Henry's line delivery as he growls "KILL" is his crowning achievement in this film.

Where Optimus Prime's character arc in this movie sees him change from a funny, rebellious spirit to a complete personality vacuum, Megatron's character arc is kind of the opposite. When we're first introduced to him, it's weirdly hard to get a handle on who he is. He's a fanboy for Megatronus, the strongest and most morally-unremarkable of the Primes. He looks up to Sentinel Prime. He likes sports. He doesn't like breaking the rules. In fact, we get the sense that, were it not for his friendship with Orion Pax, he would be literally indistinguishable from the legion of silent crowd-filling background characters he works with. But the moment he starts to become Megatron, it's like everything starts to click. Gears catch, where once they ground and idled. There is something in this guy that was made to fight, made to kill, made to rule. It's sick.

And the underlying tension in his friendship with Optimus suddenly snaps into focus. Megatron is mad at Sentinel Prime, but Sentinel Prime isn't there, he's somewhere else, far below... and he can't help but turn that anger on the next closest thing to an authority figure he has in his life, which is his peer-pressuring bestie, Orion Pax. There is a part of Megatron that wishes he'd never learned the truth, and he blames Orion Pax for his cursed knowledge, for constantly leading them into predicaments on his stupid flights of fancy. Now that he knows, he can't go back to how he was. He can't stop thinking about it.

I'll be honest, it rules. Obviously it rules. It's complicated and toxic and darker than this movie was marketed to be. In interview, Josh Cooley describes the draft of the script he was presented with when he joined the project as having been far more jokey, light-hearted, glib—and it seems we can credit him for saying "Look, this ain't right, the minute the credits roll these guys are going to be at civil war for millions of years."

So, they started talking about it in — what did you say, 2015? I came on board in 2020, and when I came on board there was the first draft of the script. So I don't think they'd been working on it that entire time, but they'd been thinking about it, for sure. And the script that I read was a little more comical? But it was clear that that wasn't the right tone for this film specifically, because we know there's gonna be a war, civil war on Cybertron, you can't have everybody making jokes and then all of a sudden there's a war. So, um, the stakes were really important for this film. And because our characters at the beginning are a little naive, and just on the younger side, not as experienced, it allowed more freedom for them to be a little looser and have fun really getting to know these characters. But once they realize something's going on and things are getting real, it needs to get real.

Cooley also describes his "in" on the film as being the brotherly relationship between Optimus Prime and Megatron (they're not literally brothers in this film, though they have been in the past), which perhaps explains why Megatron and Optimus Prime get to be characters, instead of just like, guys who are there.

That was always the goal from the beginning and what got me on board. It was this relationship between these two characters that was very human and brotherly. I thought about my relationship with my brother and how I could bring that in. It’s not like we’re enemies, but we grew up together and then went down our different paths, but we’re still brotherly. I became a writer-director and live in a fantasy land, and he became a homicide detective who deals with reality, so we’re two very different mindsets. I have always been fascinated by the idea of two people who come from the same place but end up in different ones. From the very beginning, I was like, ‘That’s something I can relate to.’

Anyway, things I liked, what else. There's that joke at the very start, after the excruciating lore powerpoint, where Orion Pax does a fake-out like he's going to transform, the music briefly swells, and then it just cuts to him legging it down the corridor. In a similar vein, I liked the idea behind the Iacon 5000, where Orion Pax has them run in the race. I felt like the execution of the race left a bit to be desired—the only other participant who matters is Darkwing—but it's still honestly the best big action setpiece in the film. There's also that bit at the end where Megatron and Optimus Prime are both changing into their final forms simultaneously, and it's basically a Homestuck Flash (what would that be, "[S] OPTIMUS PRIME. ARISE."?), so obviously I liked that. Oh, and I really liked the environment design where the planet's landscape is constantly transforming, that's brand-new, someone had an Idea there, and it creates visual interest during the initial Energon-mining scene... even if I wished it had actually paid off in a more meaningful way than "the planet's crust opens as Prime falls to get the Matrix"—like, someone really should've gotten eaten by the planet, that's a cracking Disney death scene and they left it on the table! I also liked getting to see my blorbo, Vector Prime, on the big screen.

I think, as a Transformers fan who's had to sit through a lot of really quite sexist, racist, and plain bad films, you're well within your rights to come out of this one ready to give it a fucking Oscar. You should be ecstatic! It has none of those pesky humans clogging up the frame. It has plenty of robot action. It has jokes which- well I struggle to call many of them "funny", but they're at least trying to be funny in a different way to Michael Bay's films. The film is obviously a massive love letter to... honestly every part of Transformers except the live-action movies. It is an incredibly faithful and earnest adaptation of all the lore and iconography that has randomly accumulated the way it has over the last forty years of bullshit.

My main point of contention, then, is with the overriding sentiment I'm seeing from pretty much everyone else in the fandom: that this is not just the best Transformers movie, but that it's a great animated movie period, that it does for Transformers what Into the Spider-Verse did for Spider-Man, what The Last Wish did for Puss in Boots, and what Mutant Mayhem did for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. That, in effect, this film will make you "get it". That it's better-looking, better-written, and more meaningful than a silly toy commercial has any right to be.

I think you can definitely see some loose influence from Spider-Verse in the overall look of the film—particularly in its color grading, and in the design of its main setting, the underground city of Iacon, where the upside-down skyscrapers hanging from the ceiling evoke the iconic "falling upwards" shot from Spider-Verse. Like The Last Wish, it's an animated franchise film that spent much longer than you'd think in development, only for the release of Into the Spider-Verse to have an immediate impact on its visual style... without actually affecting the basic story to the same extent. Both Transformers One and The Last Wish, in many ways, feel like stories concocted using an older formula; in particular, Transformers One bears startling similarities to a similar toy-franchise-prequel, BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui, which was released twenty years ago! By contrast, Mutant Mayhem—which had a much shorter development period—is a direct reaction to Spider-Verse in both aesthetic and narrative, and it has a much more distinctive creative direction as a result.

If you look at how all these titles have performed in cinemas, I think you can make a pretty strong case that audiences are perfectly willing to go out and see this kind of flick. A glance at Wikipedia tells me that Mutant Mayhem, The Bad Guys, and The Last Wish grossed double, triple, and quadruple their budgets respectively. In terms of the pre-existing cultural cachet they were banking on, we're talking about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a children's book series I'd never heard of, and fucking Puss in Boots. You cannot tell me that Transformers, as a brand, is on the same level as any of these properties. Meanwhile, Transformers One hardly broke even, while The Wild Robot—another DreamWorks film based on a children's book I've never heard of, which it ended up competing with in theatres—grosses three times its budget. My friends who've seen The Wild Robot say it made them cry.

Face it: Transformers One has not lit the world on fire. I've seen a lot of people cope with this by suggesting that it's to do with the film's staggered release, or even by claiming that the film's marketing was somehow misleading. I'll be honest, upon seeing it, it did not strike me as being at all dissimilar to the trailers. You can maybe say that the trailers undersold the depth of Orion Pax's and Megatron's relationship—which is its best aspect—but honestly, I think if they'd taken a lot of those scenes out of context and put them in early teasers, audiences would've laughed it out of theatres. Like, c'mon, it's toy robots, stop pretending it's Shakespeare. And otherwise, what you see is what you get; it's exactly what it says on the tin.

I wonder how many Transformers fans, on some level, have noticed that even when we're supposedly "eating good", and watching "peak cinema", our films just aren't as good as everyone else's. They're something you'll enjoy if you're already highly predisposed to enjoy them. But otherwise, they're not turning heads. They're not as funny, or as heartfelt, or as complex, or as exciting, or as charming, or as memorable, or as beautiful as these other films. Unlike with Spider-Verse, there's no word-of-mouth amongst normal people to say that this is a film worth seeing.

What I perceive in studios hoping to recreate the flash-in-the-pan success of Spider-Verse is a misunderstanding of what made people go crazy for that movie in the first place. Yes, it changed our conception of what an 3D-animated film could look like. Yes, the multiverse is very cool and all that. Yes, it had a huge IP attached to it. But on a more fundamental level, that movie has a fantastic story underpinning it. The script is razor-sharp. The story is beautifully complex. The vision of New York City it presents is a living, breathing place, populated by real people. It has the kind of craft to it that can only come from truly obsessive creators cultivating an absolutely miserable professional environment for a legion of passionate animators.

In interview, Transformers producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura actually spoke surprisingly candidly about his view on crunch:

I probably shouldn't answer this question, because I'm not exactly PC on my answer. I think the nature of filmmaking is, we're really lucky to work in a business that's about passion. Passion doesn't fit really well into a timeline, so inevitably you come to a crunch time. It's just true in the live action, it's true in every movie, and authors always tell me that about when they're writing their books — it's the same thing happens to them! There's something about the creative process that's not — it's unruly. So, I think if you're enjoying it, you need to recognize that. Like, you know, I don't wanna abuse anybody, and y'know — if you get into that period where people have to really work too hard, you gotta help them in that situation, then. 'Cause it's gonna come. It does on every movie. I've never seen it not come, no matter how well you plan, et cetera. 'Cause it's not a science what we're doing at all, and there's all these discoveries that happen near the end, which makes you go "oh, let's do some more, come on!". We discovered that on this movie, where we're calling ILM going "we've got a few ideas, you know, do you have enough man-hours?". [...] Like, you gotta be conscious of it — in live-action, for instance, there are some studios that are so cheap that when you're on — sort of medium location-distance and you're shooting 'til midnight, they don't pay for a hotel room. It's like, well, no-no-no, you pay for a hotel room. You protect the people.

According to everyone who worked on Transformers One, everyone who worked on Transformers One was very passionate about it. But there are parts of this film where I think you can say, pretty objectively, that it's falling short of its intended effect. So I guess maybe they weren't that passionate. I'm not saying that to be mean! It's just... isn't that better than the alternative—that this was the best they could do?

III. I did not care for The Godfather

At one point in the film, the gang's magic map leads them to a scary cave, which looks like this:

Bumblebee fills the dead air by saying, "A cave, with teeth. Nothing scary about that!" The joke here is that this is a cave that looks like a mouth. But as depicted, it's a cave that looks like a mouth that doesn't look like a cave! I get that this is an alien planet, but stalactites don't grow that way on Earth, so when you see the cave onscreen, your gut reaction isn't "oh my, what a frightening cave!". No, this is a cave that makes you say, "that's not a cave, that's some kind of alien monster".

(It's not like "cave turns out to be a monster" would in any way be a fresh twist. In BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui, there's a bit where a character swims into a scary cave, and it turns out to be the mouth of a massive sea serpent. In The Empire Strikes Back, the Millennium Falcon briefly hides in an asteroid tunnel which turns out to be a giant space worm. So I'm definitely not saying Transformers One would've been a better film if it had used this stock trope.)

Then once the heroes go inside, we're whisked off to an entirely different set of concept artwork, for this lush organic underground paradise. There's no danger there. The cave itself is reduced to a strange little footnote. Maybe it's only in the story because a concept artist drew it before they'd worked out the finer points of the narrative, and Keegan-Michael Key just ended up ad-libbing the "teeth!" line when he was told to vamp for a few seconds. Or maybe the teeth gag was fully written into the script from the start, and the environment artists just interpreted it way too literally.

Like, I'm sorry, I don't mean to start off on the wrong foot here by harping on about the cave thing—it's not a perfect example anyway—but to me it's a microcosm for my frustration towards what I perceive to be a lack of creative vision in this film. So much of the film feels like it's not there to be entertaining, or meaningful, or narratively load-bearing... it's just obligatory, something they threw in for the sake of having anything at all. It's colors and sounds. When you see the spiky shape onscreen, you think, "ooh, this film was pretty bouba earlier, but now it's more kiki!" They get the comedian to improvise a few one-liners while the characters walk from place to place. And it's like, yes, this is a film for children. Of course the heroes have an adventure map with a big red X on it. In many respects this is a glorified episode of Pocoyo, or the modern equivalent, which I guess is "Baby Shark | Animal Songs For Children".

Nowhere is this sense of "we are obliged to put this in the movie" felt more strongly than in its supporting cast. When you look closely, you notice that Bumblebee and Elita-1—placed prominently in the film's marketing and being technically present for much of its runtime—don't actually do anything of narrative significance. They don't make choices that impact the story; they're just there, and it would not take much rewriting to excise them entirely, so it's just Orion Pax and Megatron on their little adventure. In fact, I'll just come out and say it: I think Transformers One would have been a better movie if Bumblebee and Elita-1 were not in it.

It helps that, from a Doylist perspective, the motivations for their inclusion are perfectly transparent. Firstly, think of the merchandise! Secondly, in Bumblebee's case, it's fucking Bumblebee, he's the whole reason half the kids will be watching, you can't not have him in there. Whenever Bumblebee's not onscreen, all the other characters should be asking, "where's Bumblebee?" Also, I think the creative team felt that they could use Bumblebee tactically to balance some of the darkness in the story.

In the G1 cartoon, Bumblebee just has the default Autobot personality—good-natured, a little sarcastic—with the dial turned a little more towards friendliness. There's this iconic anecdote from the production that cartoon, where writer David Wise found himself in exactly the same situation Transformers writers are finding themselves in forty years later: he was told to write a story about something called "Vector Sigma", and he had no fucking clue what Vector Sigma was supposed to be. So he asked story editor Bryce Malek, who also had no fucking idea. Malek in turn asked Hasbro, and was told that Vector Sigma was "the computer that gave all the Transformers personalities". Upon hearing this, Malek said, "Well, it didn't do a very good job, did it!" Vector Sigma, in case you missed it, does actually appear in Transformers One, as the polygonal shape that transitions into the Matrix of Leadership in the opening powerpoint; I guess they're one and the same now. Some things never change: in Michael Bay's Transformers movies, there is again just a single default personality that every single Autobot shares, a braggadacious action-hero facade over genuine bloodthirst. Who can forget that iconic moment in Revenge of the Fallen where Bumblebee rips out Ravage's spine in grisly slow-mo?

Aside from the fact that he's small and yellow, Bumblebee in Transformers One bears very little resemblance to any incarnation of the character kids might be accustomed to. Instead, he occupies a stock comic-relief archetype, he's a zany guy who goes "Well, that just happened!" If anything, his one joke in the third act—wanton murder—reads like it could maybe be a reference to his many Mortal Kombat fatalities in Bay's films. Beginning in 2007's Transformers Animated, Bumblebee has sometimes possessed deployable "stingers" that flip out from his hands, as a fun action feature for toys. Clearly someone on Transformers One saw this and thought it was the funniest fucking thing that Bumblebee has "knife hands", because the character spends the third act of the movie just shouting "knife hands!" and cutting people in half like a medieval terror.

(In the UK, Bumblebee's lines were re-recorded at the last minute so he says "sword hands" instead. This is because in the UK, we generally aren't able to kill each other using guns, so it's knives that are the big armed-violence boogeyman. Everyone's always talking about how all the kids have knives. And look, I'm not someone to indulge in moral panic, but genuinely, when I look at Bumblebee chasing around people with knives, saying, "I'm gonna cut these guys, watch!", I'm like... what the fuck were they thinking when they wrote that?)

Frankly, whatever is going on with Bumblebee is just an entirely different movie to everything else that's happening. When Bee shanks his twelfth nameless lackey in a row, the movie's like, awww, you're sweet! But when Megatron tries to kill the one (1) evil dictator who's just fucking branded him, who's still lying to his face while his people continue to die to the guy's fuckin' honor guard, Optimus Prime is like, HELLO, HUMAN RESOURCES?

Bumblebee is solely here to be funny, but there's a point in the film where it needs to become a war story, and the best they can think to do with Bumblebee is to have him kill people but in like, a funny way.

As for Elita-1... look, to put it very bluntly, she is in this movie to be a woman. Transformers has had a long, long forty-year history of boys'-club exclusionism, if not outright misogyny, and each new series usually has a token female character, as a kind of fig-leaf for the fact that really, the only fucking thing Hasbro cares about is that the boys are buying the toys. Beginning in the 1986 movie, it was Arcee who got to be "the pink one" for many years of fiction—but not toys, y'see, when parents want to buy something for their beloved young lad, they don't buy "the pink one", no sir. In the 2010s, wow-cool-OC Windblade took over for a stint as leading lady, decked out in a commercially-non-threatening red color scheme. Recently, though, it's been Elita-1—Optimus Prime's girlfriend from the original '80s cartoon—who's been the go-to female character, and she's increasingly allowed to be pink.

There is a lot of love for these characters amongst creatives and fans alike, and especially in the last decade, female Transformers have been both more numerous and better-written than ever. Unfortunately Transformers One, which depicts Elita-1 as an arms-crossing career-obsessed buzzkill, whose arc sees her learn her place in deference to a less-competent man... well let's just say it struck me as a significant step back in this regard.

There's this great interview with Scarlett Johansson, voice of Elita-1, where she's trying to describe what makes her character interesting, and it's like she's drawing blood from a stone. She's like, "yeah, so Elita-1, I would say, she's on her own journey, because at the start of the film it's sort of like she's working at a big company, you know, and she wants to get a promotion, but then later on she learns that she can't, y'know, get a promotion". Look, it's not that Scarlett Johansson does a bad job—in fact, considering the material she's working with, she practically carries Elita-1 entirely on the back of her performance—it's just that I can't shake the impression that the filmmakers would rather pay Scarlett Johansson god knows how many thousands of dollars than try to think of a second actress that they know of.

As I've already complained, Transformers One has a pretty thin cast, but it effectively only has two other female characters who do anything. Airachnid is a secondary antagonist, Sentinel Prime's spymaster/enforcer, and it's clear that some concept artist really fucking popped off when designing her. She has eyes in the back of her head, and it's ten times creepier than that makes it sound. Her spiderlegs also create some visual interest during fight scenes. As a character, Airachnid has zero internality and is not interesting, but she is cool, so you'll get no complaints from me there.

The film's other other female character is Chromia, who wins the Iacon 5000 race at the last moment. She really comes out of nowhere to clinch it. It's funny, because the leaderboards show this one guy, Mirage, hovering near the top of the rankings for almost the whole sequence. And Chromia's character model really looks suspiciously like Mirage's. In fact, there's a different character who stands around in the background a couple of times who looks much more like Chromia. Funnily enough, that background character is even called Chromia in concept art! So if you connect the dots, it really seems that the "Chromia" who is the best racer on Cybertron was originally meant to be Mirage, a guy, until they switched the character's gender at the very last minute, and didn't bother changing the leaderboards to match.

There are two possible explanations for this. The first is that Mirage was the dark horse of Rise of the Beasts, and for some reason they felt like his depiction in Transformers One would've gotten in the way of their plans for the character somehow. It's plausible, I guess. The second, infinitely funnier option, is that at some point someone working on the movie realised that they only put two women in the film, scrambled to look through the feature to find a suitable character to gender-swap, only to discover to their horror that they'd forgotten to put in any characters whatsoever. Fuck it, the racer guy! He can be a girl. Diversity win, the fastest class traitor on Cybertron... is a woman!

In case you were wondering about the Transformers One toyline leaderboards, by my count, Orion Pax has ten new transforming toys currently announced or in stores, Bumblebee and Megatron have six each, Sentinel Prime has four, Alpha Trion has two, Elita-1 has two, Airachnid has one, Starscream has one, Wheeljack has one, and the Quintesson High Commander has one. In fact, one of Elita-1's toys—the collector-oriented high-quality Studio Series release—isn't scheduled for release until some undetermined point later next year, and she was entirely absent from leaked lists of upcoming releases, which to me smacks of "we realised last-minute that it would look really really bad if we didn't bother to release a good toy of the one woman in the film". Oh, and obviously, Chromia has no toys—but there is an "Iacon Race" three-pack consisting of Megatron, Orion Pax... and Mirage. Go figure.

The thing is, all of the stuff I'm grousing about here is pretty much standard fare for kids' films targeted more at boys. Hell, even The Lego Movie—which is basically the gold standard of toy commercials—gave supporting protagonist Wyldstyle a pretty similar arc to the one Elita-1 gets here, which was probably the weakest element of that film. Evidently conscious of this, Lord & Miller redeemed themselves by devoting the entirety of The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part to deconstructing common narratives surrounding gender roles. I guess I just wish the young girls who presumably comprise some portion of Transformers One theatergoers could actually get anything out of Elita-1 as a character. Ah, what do I know, maybe it's still considered countercultural simply to depict a woman punching people.

Still, to give credit where it's due: Transformers One doesn't remotely touch the gender-essentialism prevalent in the Binder of Revelation, treating female Transformers no differently to their male counterparts in lore terms. Solus Prime is, it seems, just a Prime who happened to be a woman, rather than the mythological Eve after whom all women are patterned. There's a scene where our heroes are gifted the Transformation Cogs of the fallen Primes, and the Primes named thankfully bear no particular relation to the characters; in other words, Elita-1 isn't given Solus Prime's cog. As Alpha Trion puts it: "What defines a Transformer is not the cog in his chest, but the spark that resides in their core." Dude really remembered nonbinary people exist halfway through that sentence huh.

(Actually, the bigger mistake would've been with Megatron: if he was given Megatronus Prime's cog from the start, then this would've created the unfortunate implication that his descent into evil was only the result of Megatronus Prime's fucked up and evil cog, rather than a choice Megatron made of his own free will. The film instead has it the other way around: Megatron's radicalisation into a "might makes right" philosophy is what causes him to covet Megatronus Prime's transformation cog, to steal that power from Sentinel Prime, who stole the cogs of both Megatronus and Megatron in the first place. That's cool! This does create a bit of unfortunate narrative dissonance with Alpha Trion's words, alas, as it does seem like Megatronus Prime's cog really is more powerful than the others, because it gives both Sentinel Prime and Megatron a powerup.)

There's just something that I find so dreadfully mercenary about this movie's cast—honestly, everyone except Orion Pax, Megatron, and maybe Sentinel Prime. Take Darkwing, for example. Bro was clearly designed from the ground up to fill this stock character role of "bully who pushes our guys around and later gets his comeuppance". For a more interesting take on that exact same archetype, look no further than Todd Sureblade from Nimona, a bigoted knight who gets a whole damn character arc in the background, which directly complements that film's main themes.

Again, I'm not playing some kind of guessing game here, the authorial evidence is right there: Darkwing didn't even have a name until Hasbro designer Mark Maher was shown a picture of the character and asked, "If this was a Decepticon flyer, who would it be?" This is actually par for the course with ILM; most of their concept art is labelled with very basic descriptions, with the exact trademarks being picked in conjunction with Hasbro at a later point. Darkwing just stands out in Transformers One because he's the only recurring speaking character who's an OC in all but name (unless you count Bumblebee), he's the one guy who's been invented from scratch with total creative freedom, and he's boring as sin. It's like the filmmakers just couldn't conceive of a children's movie without that stock character—and they clearly had no idea what to do with him once they'd invented him, because he disappears entirely from the film at the start of the third act, when Orion Pax throws him into an arcade cabinet, which they have in the mines on Cybertron for some reason.

In a film with as painfully few named speaking characters as Transformers One, there's really no excuse for having this kind of one-dimensionality in their portrayals. Genuinely, I ask—who are Orion Pax and Megatron fighting to liberate? Jazz, one of the biggest personalities from the original G1 cartoon, who gets all of two boilerplate lines here? Cooley seems to think so:

As you’re designing them the background characters are almost like Lego pieces where you put different heads on different bodies just to fill in a crowd. But some of them would be brought forward and be painted specific colors so that it represents a character that I didn’t know was such a big deal. But there was stuff—like Jazz, for example, has a pretty big role. It was important to have a relationship with a character that we know gets to be saved.

To me, the idea that casual cinemagoers would be invested in any of the Transformers as characters is laughable. Michael Bay's characters are famous for being hateful non-entities. In terms of the films, Jazz is best remembered for dying at the end of the first one, seventeen years ago; he looks completely different here. The one breakout character in recent years—Mirage, as played by Pete Davidson in Rise of the Beasts—was, as I've already mentioned, written out so that the movie could reach its girl quota... not that he would've had any lines anyway.

And I just don't buy the idea that the complete dearth of compelling characterisation in this film is just an unfortunate side-effect of its clipped one-hour-thirty runtime—that, given even half an hour longer, the film would suddenly be crowded with rich portrayals of all your Transformers faves. Bumblebee and Elita-1, ostensibly two of the most important characters in the film, are not in this movie because the movie is interested in telling their stories. They are in this movie for the sake of being in this movie. It insists upon itself.

IV. No politics means no politics

In fact, putting aside merchandising considerations, Elita-1 and Bumblebee serve one very specific purpose in narrative terms. The trait Optimus Prime and Megatron have always had in common is that they are both leaders—and what is a leader, without anyone to lead? Without Bumblebee and Elita-1, you'd have this farcical situation where the only person Optimus Prime ever gets to boss around is Megatron, until the very end of the movie when God makes him king of all Cybertron. The High Guard, Starscream's gang of exiles, serve a similar narrative purpose for Megatron; they're a ready-made army who've just been sitting around waiting for him to show up and take charge.

Towards the end, the movie does actually take care to show both Orion Pax and Megatron rallying groups of Cybertronians: in Pax's case, he reveals the truth to his legion of interchangable miner friends, while Megatron riles up the High Guard mob. Again, there's a bit of that narrative sleight-of-hand, a bit of a thematic cop-out, where the question of "how do Optimus Prime and Megatron come to be leaders of their factions?" is answered only in the most literal possible interpretation. Yes, we technically see the exact chain of events that lead to this point—but both characters are portrayed as born leaders. We don't see them grow into the role, except physically. The moment Megatron decides he wants to rule, he's able to take charge. Likewise, Optimus Prime just gets divinely appointed by God. At a key point, Megatron loudly declares "I will never trust a so-called leader ever again", and the movie plays a fucking scare chord like this is supposed to be ominous. Like, oh no! Optimus Prime is a leader! And they're friends! Whatever will Megatron do when he finds out his friend, Optimus Prime, is a leader?

I don't think the movie has given any real thought to what a leader actually is. It seems to take a stance that power cannot be taken, i.e. through violent action, as Sentinel Prime and Megatron do. That one scene with Elita-1 suggests the most important trait for a leader to have, above and beyond any particular competency, is simply hope and optimism. What I just can't wrap my head around is the fact that the counterpoint the movie presents to Megatron, in the form of Orion Pax becoming Optimus Prime, does not support a belief in collective action or basic democracy—rather, it's a boring sword-in-the-stone divine-right-of-kings fantasy.

Except I do have a theory for why the film is like this. Let's look again at that interview with Eric Pearson, who came onboard in the "late middle" of production:

One of the first things that I did was a big pass on Sentinel Prime. I just felt like he was too obviously telegraphing his wickedness in previous versions, and I felt like, “No, he’s a carnival barker.” He’s got to be a big salesman. He’s a bullshitter, honestly is what he is.

(Honestly, if this is Sentinel after a "big pass" to make his villainy more of a twist, I shudder to think what the earlier drafts were like.)

Now, let's see how WIRED introduces their interview with Josh Cooley, titled "Transformers One Isn't as Silly as It Looks":

He liked the script, which traces how Optimus Prime (Chris Hemsworth) and Megatron (Brian Tyree Henry) went from friends to enemies. But as the world went into lockdown as Covid-19 spread, Cooley found his story changing, if only slightly. Trump was still in office when Cooley started working on the film, and he was having meetings with the producers and they’d “start these meetings off on Zoom just going, like, ‘Holy crap what is going on in this world?’” he says. Ultimately, the infighting they were seeing between Democrats and Republicans in the same family became an undercurrent in the film’s friends-to-enemies storyline, “because that’s what Transformers is.”

So it's like, oh, this is a 2016 election thing. This is just that one election that broke everyone's brains. Of course this movie about a made-up political struggle on an alien planet being developed from 2015-2020 wouldn't be like, hey, you know what might fix our society's problems, is if we had an election. Of course the main villain is a "big salesman" "bullshitter" who says things like "The truth is what I make it!". Wow, guys, your film is so-o-o politically-conscious, and very pretty.

The fantasy is more or less that Donald Trump's army of reactionaries is marching on Washington to seize power through violent means, and on the way he drops Joe Biden into the Grand Canyon, but just before Joe hits the ground a giant fucking bald eagle swoops in to catch him and squawks, "God finds you worthy! Arise, President Biden!"

In our escapist little morality play, our best friend slash allegorical dad gets made king of the planet, and we all get jobs in the government. As in, one of the funniest lines in the movie is straightup Bumblebee exulting, "This is the greatest day of my life. I get to work for the government!" When Prime met Bumblebee—an hour ago—the dude was talking to imaginary friends, and honestly the only fucking skill he's demonstrated since then is cold-blooded murder. We have this dissonance in the storytelling, where it's mostly a story about four friends going on an adventure (are they even friends? Most of them hate each other!), but it's also a founding-fathers political origin story, which means there comes a point where our hero just suddenly starts bossing his friends around in a deep voice, and they're like, "Yes, sir!" It creates this unhinged situation where the "good" faction on Cybertron is ruled by the biblical chosen one and his nepotism buddies.

Per that quote from WIRED (or are they just putting words in Cooley's mouth? I can't help but notice they don't give an exact quote!), the film is ultimately sympathetic to the bad guys (the Republicans, I guess). It deliberately suggests that there is really nothing that should divide the Autobots and the Decepticons: their political goals, it claims, are identical, and they only disagree on the means by which to achieve them. The Decepticons, who are angry and hateful, have simply been misled by a power-hungry liar with charisma—first Sentinel, then Megatron—and so the tragedy is that they are artificially pushed into conflict with their fellow men, when really they should be uniting to stand against their common enemy, the foreigner illuminati trying to steal Cybertron's wealth.

Now, I know I've just handed you a get-out-of-jail-free card. My political allegory here is chock full of holes. What, are Sentinel Prime and Megatron both Donald Trump? Get a grip. Obviously any real-world commentary in Transformers One was only intended in the loosest sense imaginable: things like, "people should be free to change into whatever they want!" I'm being unfair, I'm reading too much into it, this is a cartoon movie for children, and if I want politics, I should start reading some fucking books. Also, come to mention it, my whole argument about that cave earlier really didn't hold water, and- I know, alright? I know.

V. Place / Place, Cybertron

I'm not mad at this toy commercial because its politics don't quite align with mine. I'm not mad at it for having a boring-ass supporting cast. I'm not mad at it for reheating a bunch of half-baked lore I didn't care for from the early 2010s. I've actually spent a lot of time mad about Transformers media that I've thought was bad. There's Transformers: Armada, where the English translators are fully asleep at the wheel and render even the most basic cartoon plots incomprehensible though constant mistranslations. There's Transformers: Micromasters, where two white guys wrote a downtrodden race of tiny Cybertronians who greet each other like "Wattup, my micro!". There's the recent series of Transformers: EarthSpark, where there's an episode that I can only describe as "the Wonka Experience but it's an episode of a children's cartoon", with a plotline that mostly revolves around our child heroes straightup robbing a Onceler-looking businessman of his most valuable possession. There's Transformers: Age of Extinction, with that one scene, and also the rest of that movie. In fact, I would go so far as to say that most Transformers fiction is some combination of bad, offensive, and offensively bad.

So even though I've just spent thousands of words whinging and moaning about how I didn't like Transformers One, the truth is that I had a perfectly nice time at the cinema. I got to go see it with five of my pals who love Transformers just as much as I do, and we had a blast. It is easily in the top 50% of all Transformers fiction.

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, I guess I've always given a lot of thought to what Transformers looks like from the outside. Maybe it's that I'm compelled to spend so much time and money on it, that it somehow compels me to vomit up these kinds of essays, and all I want is to be able to make it make sense to anyone in my life. It would be so, so nice if I could just sit down in the cinema with a friend or family member for a couple of hours, and at the end of it, they'd be able to walk out and say, "Okay, I guess I see what you get out of it." Rise of the Beasts was kind of that movie for me, but Rise of the Beasts is also the seventh instalment in a blockbuster franchise. It kind of takes for granted everything about Transformers.

It doesn't answer, "what the fuck is a Transformer anyway?"

For many years now, fans have noticed a marked aversion to using the word "transform" as a verb, or even as a noun. Optimus Prime no longer says, "Autobots, transform and roll out!", he just says, "Roll out!". Transformers no longer transform, they "convert". In fact, Transformers are no longer Transformers at all: they are "Transformers bots", the italics here serving to distinguish a registered trademark. This is because the worms in suits at Hasbro are worried that, if they continue to use the word "transform" by its dictionary definition—that is, to change—then rival toy companies will be able to make the case that anything that transforms can legally be described as a Transformer. It will become a generic trademark, like Velcro, or Band-Aid, or Dumpster.

Yet in Transformers One, "Transformers" is not just the noun by which the characters are referred to—rather, it's used in a descriptive sense to specifically mean "Cybertronians who can transform"! Characters are constantly talking about whether they can or can't transform. Prime gets to say his catchphrase in full. It's a miracle. Not only that, characters even get to say the word "kill" instead of "defeat" or "destroy".

Transformers One has a level of unrestricted creative freedom not seen since the 1986 animated film. This is a film unconstrained by location shooting, or licensing deals, or uncooperative actors; through the magic of CGI, for every single frame of its one-hour-thirty runtime, the filmmakers can put literally whatever they want on the screen. They were given the assignment, "Make an animated prequel set on Cybertron telling the origin story of Optimus Prime and Megatron", handed an estimated $147 million and a blank page, and told to go nuts. Like those born with transformation cogs, Transformers One had the power to become anything it wanted to be.

The 1986 animated film took that carte blanche to do whatever the fuck it wanted, and basically singlehandedly defined the direction of the franchise ever since. On a lore level, in terms of tone, I would say that Transformers owes practically everything to The Transformers: The Movie. Cartoons, comics, films, and video games have adapted every single one of its scenes countless times over. I'm not necessarily saying that it's a good film, or even that it's a particularly original film—much of it is ripped off from Star Wars—just that it took the franchise somewhere it hadn't gone before. It was looking to the future. As in, literally, it was set in 2005, at the time two decades into the future.

What gets me down about Transformers One is that—like most major franchise media released since The Force Awakens—all it can do is think about the past. Swathes of it are devoted to painstakingly recreating or setting up the various bits of iconography which have arbitrarily come to define the franchise. Even when it appears to be taking things in a new direction, it's not long before it course-corrects back into familiar territory: Steve Buscemi invents a surprisingly fresh take on Starscream's voice, and then Megatron half-strangles him to death, saddling him with a post-produced rasp to emulate Chris Latta's iconic performance from forty years ago.

The very title of the film, Transformers One, is an allusion to the line, "Till all are one," which originates in The Transformers: The Movie. In an early script for that '80s feature, it was actually "Till all life sparks are one", referring to a literal metaphysical process in that draft whereby one Transformer's life force could be passed on to another, presumably with the belief that they would all eventually be merged into a single afterlife. In the finalized story, it's just this kind of mystical phrase vaguely evoking concepts of togetherness and unity.

Transformers One brushes up against the phrase a couple of times. Alpha Trion almost says it at one point, when passing on his dead siblings' transformation cogs: "They were one. You are one. All are one!" Whatever that means. Later, Orion Pax starts a chant amongst the miners: "Together as one!" And finally, at the very end of the movie, during his obligatory film-ending monologue, Optimus Prime again goes: "And now, we stand here together... as one." (Half of Cybertron has just been banished to the surface forever.) "[...] Here, all are truly... Autobots." (Again, half of Cybertron- Optimus, what the fuck are you talking about?) Regardless, this is inexplicably the one instance where the movie doesn't twist itself up into knots trying to nail the exact phrasing.

Actually, there is one other sideways reference like this I can think of. Early in the film, Orion Pax is chatting up Elita, and he remarks, "Feel like I have enough power in my to drill down and touch Primus himself." To which Elita replies, "You don't have the touch or the power." This is kind of a nonsensical retort unless you know that in the 1986 movie, one of the most iconic songs on the soundtrack was "The Touch" by Stan Bush, which had the chorus line: "You got the touch! You got the power!" It's a banger. Anyway, remember when I said Darkwing gets chucked through an arcade cabinet? Well, here's Cooley revealing why that arcade cabinet is in the film:

I actually wrote [that exchange between Orion Pax and Elita] because I love that song. [...] And we had this one version where D-16 and Orion were playing a video game, like a stand-up old arcade game—it was inspired to look like that, but a Cybertonian version of that. They’re playing that together like friends and the song, like the 8-bit song that’s playing is ["The Touch"]. But that scene got nixed. And so I wanted to work it in there somewhere. And I just felt like a natural place for it. But that was one where I’m like, "I just love that song and those lyrics and that’s Transformers to me so I want to get that in there."

(I've had to amend that quote to fill in the blanks where the article has redacted "spoilers" for the movie. Spoiler culture is an absolute pox, I swear. Can't have the audiences knowing about one (1) mid joke in advance—the movie barely has enough jokes to fill a "Transformers One Funny Moments" compilation as it is!)

This actually isn't the first time Hasbro has "nixed" a reference to "The Touch" in major Transformers media. In the Transformers: Cyberverse episode "The Alliance", a character references "The Touch" right before a training montage which is clearly supposed to have the track playing, except instead it's been replaced by a generic rock instrumental, presumably because they couldn't afford the license. And in Daniel Warren Johnson's Eisner-award-winning bestselling comic run, there's one panel where he clearly wanted to include the song's lyrics as a sound effect, but wasn't allowed, so the final sound effect famously reads "YOU KNOW THE SONG". But that's a random episode of a bargain-bin cartoon, and an indie-darling comic series—not a $147 million blockbuster. You really have to wonder if it came down to money, or if it was something else. God knows Transformers One would not actually be improved for having a chiptune remix of "The Touch" in it, anyway.

The most egregious misplaced bit of fanwank in the film isn't even in dialogue. In the 1986 film, there's this one iconic moment when Optimus Prime arrives at the besieged Autobot City, drives through a crowd of Decepticons in truck mode, then fires some afterburners, launching his cab up into the air, where he transforms mid-leap, drawing his blaster to shoot a couple of Decepticons before hitting the ground. It's a fantastic bit of original animation. It's the Akira slide of Transformers. And, surprise surprise, it crops up in Transformers One. In the climactic final fight, Orion Pax shows up to save Megatron, and he does the thing.

But the problem is... he's not in truck mode! The film just cuts to him standing there in the middle of some anonymous mooks, then he does a standing jump into the air, the movie momentarily goes into extreme slow-mo like he's doing a fucking quick-time event, then he shoots a couple of guys and drops to the ground. There's no momentum. It exists purely to create that simulacrum, to take the single most iconic frame from that bit of 1986 animation, and stretch that one frame into infinity. The context is discarded, irrelevant. All that matters is that brief moment of recognition: "I know what that iiis!" God knows Transformers One has precious little in the way of impactful fight animation of its own; the choreography is stiff and uninspired, while the shots themselves are nauseatingly cluttered. Often, the best it can do is pilfer from older, better stories.

"Did you clap at any of the new moments and memorable characters?" "Were there any?"

Look, I get it. Transformers One is a prequel. By definition, it can't change the future. It has to play with the characters that are already in the toybox. But I do think it had this really special opportunity: to show theatregoers where the Transformers come from. To show us Cybertron not as a distant star or a barren scrapyard, but as a living, thriving alien world, unlike Earth, something special and worth protecting in its own right. Something new and memorable. In Rise of the Beasts—probably the best Transformers movie by default—when Optimus Prime is at his lowest, he wants nothing more to return home... but home is something we've only ever seen as a cold dystopia, ruled by Decepticons. The version of Transformers One I had hoped to see was one that would have imbued Optimus' homesickness with greater meaning. I wanted to feel his loss, and to hope that one day the war will end, and Cybertron can be restored.

I think Transformers One sincerely tries to achieve this effect. The concept artists have clearly put a great deal of time and thought into Cybertron as an environment. When the artbook comes out, I'm keen to see how much stuff didn't make it into the finished film. You have to assume most of it got cut, because there's next to nothing left!

At the end of the film, battle lines are drawn, the civil war is about to start... but strangely, the movie's setting does not convey the sense that anything beautiful is being lost. Nobody is unwillingly turned to violence, innocence-lost; they're all too eager to get to killing, friggin' Bumblebee is gleeful about it. There's no beautiful, iconic landmark, which gets tragically destroyed, like in some kind of Transformers 9/11—"What have we done! Where will this war take us!". There's no part of Cybertron's natural ecological environment to be ruined by the war, because the surface world is already turbofucked by the Quintessons to begin with. No, rather, we have the total opposite: Optimus Prime finding the Matrix (which was just, like, hanging out in the core of Cybertron or whatever) actually restores Energon to the planet, removing the unnatural scarcity which was the entire impetus behind the film's dystopia. He made Cybertron great again. So again, Transformers One fails to answer one of the most fundamental questions one might expect of a Transformers prequel: "When did things on Cybertron get so bad?" The movie ends with the planet in better shape to how it started!

The big original idea that Transformers One has is that Cybertron, the planet itself, should be in a constant state of transformation. I've already talked about the beautiful shapeshifting landscapes, but it's also the moving buildings, the complicated mechanisms, the roads and rails that magically lay themselves between the vehicles and their destinations. I've already mentioned how odd I find it that none of these environmental transformations have any significance to the story; the closest it comes to some sort of payoff is when Orion Pax falls into the hole that makes you king.

What I find most perplexing are the deer. When the gang makes it to the surface, the idea is to show the natural beauty of the surface, which the cogless have been denied their whole lives. The mountains glisten as they move. Nebulae glow in the night sky. The surface is blanketed in organic (?) plantlife, like a watering can forgotten in a garden. And, most strikingly, there are deer: mechanical animals, just like those found on Earth, being hunted for sport by the evil Quintessons. When the cruisers near, their glowing horns turn red with alarm, and they prance around in fear.

I'm reminded of a brief gag from the third season of Transformers: Cyberverse—one of very few shows to have devoted any serious effort to Cybertronian worldbuilding—in the episode "Thunderhowl". Bumblebee and Chromia stumble across a "singlehorn" (read: unicorn), and when it senses danger, it neighs, transforms into a rocket, and blasts out of frame. And apart from being really cute and funny, it's like, oh, of course that's what animals are like on Cybertron! Everything on this planet transforms. Why not the animals?

For whatever reason, the deer in Transformers One are like the one thing that don't transform. Why the hell not? If Cyberverse could find the budget for its split-second sight gag, surely this blockbuster could, I don't know, have them turn into dirt bikes with antler-handlebars. That would've been something, right? If not, then at least could we maybe see some other animals on Cybertron, to really get across that alien biodiversity? Of course not. See, the deer exist to communicate one very specific story beat: a single moment of trepidation, where the heroes know there's danger nearby, but they don't know what. And all you need for that is a single kind of prey animal, with some kind of warning light to let you know, hey, there's danger! Once this purpose is fulfilled, the deer have no further significance to the story.

We need only look to BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui to see this exact same beat play out with a modicum of competence and creative flair. Also in the second act—in fact, at practically the exact same timestamp—our heroes, the Toa, have a run-in with the bad guys, and they're nearly captured... but then there's this sudden rumble of danger approaching, we don't know what. It turns out to be a herd of giant Kikanalo! They send the bad guys packing, except they nearly trample our heroes too! But then, Toa Nokama's mask begins to glow, and she discovers that her mask grants her the ability to talk to animals. They learn some vital information from the Kikanalo, and are able to ride the creatures for the next stage of their adventure. Finally, when they can go no further, the Kikanalo cave in the passage behind the heroes to ensure they won't be pursued. Holy shit, that's like, five different story beats with just that one type of creature!

It's not just that Transformers One struggles with that kind of basic narrative flow, where a single element serves multiple purposes. It's that often, it wastes precious time creating redundant setups to achieve the same effect twice.

For example, Megatronus Prime's face happens to look exactly like (what we know will be) the Decepticon insignia. At the beginning of the movie, Orion Pax mollifies Megatron by giving him a rare decal of Megatronus Prime's face. Traditionally, Megatron wears his insignia in the middle of his chest—but in this film, nearly every character has a big hole in the middle of their chest, where their missing transformation cog should go. So Megatron sticks the decal on his shoulder instead.

Later, he gets a cog, and the hole in his chest is filled. When Sentinel Prime captures Megatron, he notices the Megatronus sticker, and rips it off. Then, he re-applies it on Megatron's chest—purely so it's in the "right" place for the iconography. And then, he uses his gun to crudely brand Megatron with a tracing of Megatronus' face, inadvertently creating the Decepticon symbol. Finally, in a post-credits scene, Megatron has fashioned a proper Decepticon brand with which to brand himself and his followers. So in effect, there are four separate moments where Megatron gets the symbol! Orion sticking it on his shoulder, Sentinel moving it to his chest, Sentinel mutilating him, and finally Megatron branding himself. You can make an argument that the symbol starts out meaning one thing, but ends up meaning another thing, which has a kind of tragic significance—but I think you would struggle to distinguish subtle shades of meaning from all four of these brandings. Considering the movie only has an hour and a half to work with, I find this lack of narrative economy to be honestly embarrassing.

(My friend Jo also points out what a misstep it is to just have Megatronus Prime's face perfectly resemble the Decepticon symbol from the start. Had it been a looser, more stylised—that is to say, original—design, the moment where Sentinel Prime roughly carves it into Megatron's chest could be a shocking reveal, as the basic outlines are abstracted and simplified. Gasp, that's the origin of the Decepticon symbol! Instead, from the very moment that sticker first shows up, it's like... oh, well, there it is I guess.)

In a similar vein, both Optimus Prime and Megatron undergo two different transformations at different points in the movie: first, when Alpha Trion gives them transformation cogs, and second, when respectively they obtain the Matrix of Leadership/Megatronus' cog. The gun that sprouts from Megatron's arm in his intermediary form bears a much closer to resemblance to his iconic "fusion cannon" than the triple-barrelled cannon he ends up with in his final form. Again, in such a short film, can we really say whatever subtlety this brings to Megatron's arc is worth all this fanfare? Now, Redditors ask: "What is the EXACT moment D-16 became Megatron?"

In fact, probably the only point of criticism I've seen levied at Transformer One from within the Transformers fandom at large is that Megatron's arc is maybe a little "rushed". He starts out being best bros forever with Orion Pax, and by the end of the film, he's ready to drop the guy into a bottomless pit. The film takes a lot of time to justify his anger at Sentinel Prime, but the deterioration of his friendship with Orion goes much more unspoken, and is framed more as a point of irrationality: psychologically, Megatron comes to conflate his bossy friend with his oppressive ruler. I liked this, personally. I liked that it's as if a switch gets flipped in Megatron's head. But you do just kind of have to buy into it. The film itself does not put in the work to really sell you on the friendship souring, because again, it's too busy fucking around with two (2) magical girl transformation sequences for each of them.

Everything in the film is like this. They go into the cave and meet Alpha Trion, then leave the cave so they can watch a FMV cutscene with Sentinel Prime and the Quintessons, who've coincidentally arrived at that exact moment, basically just to rehash what they've just been told... and then they go back into the cave so Alpha Trion can resume his infodump, and then they end up clashing with Sentinel Prime's forces once that's done. At the beginning of the movie, they're at the very bottom in the mines, then they get banished to an even lower level, then they banish themselves all the way up to the surface, then they return to Iacon, and then Megatron gets banished to the surface again so he can be mesmerized by the beauty of the world and/or get gunched by Quintessons depending on what the film wanted me to take away from this. Compare to Minecraft but I survive in PARKOUR CIVILIZATION [FULL MOVIE], where the theme of class struggle is pretty efficiently depicted in the vertically-stratified setting.

I just find it so wasteful. Outside of the one scene where they're introduced, the Quintessons—ostensibly the true architects of Cybertron's oppressive status quo—may as well not exist. If not for Orion Pax addressing his closing remarks to the Quintessons, almost as an afterthought, I'd assume the film wants us to forget about them entirely, as it knows full well that its paltry runtime does not give it time for a second action-climax against the aliens. Even as sequel bait, it feels halfhearted at best; Josh Cooley is clearly already bored of Transformers, and seems unlikely to come back for another round unless the money is really really good (which *glances at the box office* it's not). So what the fuck are the Quintessons here for? Was the idea that Sentinel might just have pulled off his coup singlehandedly really so hard to stomach? Could the conspiracy not have been simplified to just involve Sentinel and his Transformer cronies? Hang on, are all the Transformers seen at the start of the film in on it, or just some of them? How's it decided who keeps their cogs and who doesn't?

VI. Into nothing

Why does this movie, where the main selling point is ostensibly that we're getting to see Transformers civilization for the first time, mostly focus on all these guys who can't fucking transform? Surely the entire thing that makes the setting fun is the Zootopia angle of, look, they're all different animals! Or the Elemental angle of, look, they're all different elements! Or the Emoji Movie angle of, look, they're all different emoji! Or the Cars angle of, look, they're all different cars! This is a Transformers film which features several significant sequences involving these cool trains, and there is absolutely zero indication that these trains are themselves Transformers. This is a Transformers film which extensively focuses on miners, and none of them transform into mining vehicles; they're holding, friggin', space jackhammers. Even the premise of "isn't it sad that these ones can't transform" is kind of undercut by the fact that all the miners get to wear fucking jetpacks, which is a frankly much cooler and more effective method of locomotion than driving.

I'm just sick of Transformers stories having zero interest in the basic premise of Transformers, which is to say, they transform into something. I also think this is the biggest dissonance between casual audiences, who think "oh yeah, Optimus Prime, that guy who turns into a truck", and Transformers fans, who think, "oh yeah, Optimus Prime, the messiah or something". Normal people love to know what the Transformers turn into. They ask, "Wait, is there a Transformer that turns into [insert silly vehicle here]?" Of course people are interested in that angle! Vehicles are such a huge part of our daily lives—honestly, for those of us living in cities, more so than animals, the classical elements, or emoji—but the closest Transformers One comes to engaging with this lens is that aforementioned Iacon 5000 race sequence. By and large, it presents a world which is made for standing up and walking around. And personally I do think that's an insane approach to take?

Is the excuse that cars can't emote? Nonsense. If you've ever seen a traffic jam, you'll know that cars can sure as hell emote. Pixar, where Josh Cooley cut his teeth, famously spent a lot of time working out how to put a facial expression on a car. No, the problem dates back to the very start of the franchise.

In the 1980s, two main people were responsible for writing the comic stories: American writer Bob Budiansky, and British writer Simon Furman. Budiansky approached the premise of the franchise from an external, human perspective, writing about culture clash, and taking delight in the Transformers' mechanical alien nature as "robots in disguise". Meanwhile, Furman wrote the Transformers as giant people: he focused on their own internal conflicts and motivations, and the grand history of their war. Pretty much every Transformers story ever told can be boiled down to one of these schools of thought: Budianskyist, or Furmanist.

Budiansky quit the comic after fifty issues, allowing Furman to take the reigns as sole writer, and Furman basically got the final word on what the Transformers are. They did not evolve from naturally-occurring gears, levers and pulleys. They were not designed by a supercomputer, or built by an alien race. They are the chosen sons of God. The Thirteen are, of course, an invention of Furman's. And Transformers One is perhaps the most Furmanist story ever told. It's the culmination of years and years of lore building up, ossifying into something you can no longer describe as the history of a universe—no, this is a mythology. It's the most perfect form of brand alignment imaginable: this is not an origin story, this is the origin story. It's been the origin story for a better part of the decade—and now that everyone's seen it in theatres, it will be the origin story forever.

It's not just the fiction, either, by the way. These days, if you go into the store to buy a Transformers toy, chances are it'll turn into some misshapen made-up futuristic concept car with unpainted windows and wheels that don't even roll—and that's terrible.

There's truly a lot to hate about Michael Bay's Transformers films, but with each new entry that's released following his departure from the franchise, I feel like I only find myself appreciating them more. In the 2007 Transformers movie, we see the Transformers crash-landing on Earth in their "protoforms", and their movements are animated like they're shy, like they're naked until they scan an Earth vehicle and adopt a disguise. The visual impact of Megatron, meanwhile, is that he doesn't adopt a disguise in that movie: he's a horrible metal skeleton that turns into a jet made of knives. It's weird and alien and it rules.

In the 1980s Transformers cartoon, and in the last-minute Cybertron-set prologue added to Bumblebee, and now in Transformers One, the Transformers look basically the same on Cybertron as they eventually do upon their arrival to Earth. Optimus Prime turns, unmistakably, into a truck. He has windows on his chest, and smokestacks on his arms. He doesn't have these features because he disguises himself as an Earth truck. He has those details because that's just what Optimus Prime looks like. They're his "essential brand elements", or "trademark details", which "identify the must-have elements in character design to be carried across all creative expressions". Prime may take any form he wishes, so long as it looks exactly like himself. A mask of my own face—I'd wear that.

What I find fucked up about the reception towards Transformers One is that a lot of people seemed very invested in its success—and not its popular success, certainly not its artistic success, but rather its commercial success. They wanted this to be the first film to make one bumblebillion dollars. They wanted Hasbro to line its fucking pockets and make movies like this forever. So if you express any kind of negativity towards this film online, which might theoretically affect some other person's decision of whether or not to go and see it, which might theoretically affect the profit it makes at the cinema, which might theoretically affect the future of the franchise in some unknown way, then you're some sort of fandom traitor who oughta be executed.

If you're so worried about the future of the franchise, the fandom really isn't where you should be looking. Like, c'mon, the Transformers fandom has been good as gold, we buy so many toys. Meanwhile, Hasbro just got finished laying off around 100 employees with no warning to make their books look a bit better. Transformers designer John Warden—who'd worked at Hasbro for 25 years, is widely credited with inventing the modern paradigm of Transformers toylines, and ultimately became the creative director of both Transformers and G.I. Joe—was on assignment to a convention in the UK with the rest of the Transformers team when he heard the news. Suffice to say, he did not end up making a public appearance at the convention. With his work's health insurance snatched away without notice, he's had to resort to crowdfunding to pay his family's medical bills. As a well-known figure in the toy industry, he will presumably find a new job and land on his feet, but the same cannot be said for all 99 of the remaining employees we're told have been unceremoniously dumped.

The Binder of Revelation, which has been something of a holy grail of behind-the-scenes material for over a decade, has finally been leaked—presumably by one of these guys, presumably out of spite.

Now, I'm not going to pretend to have been paying particularly close attention to Hasbro's financials, but from where I'm sitting, it sure seems that ever since the sudden death of then-CEO Brian Goldner in 2021—credited for saving the company in 2000, and overseeing the explosive growth of its intellectual property ever since then—his replacement, Chris P. Cocks (or "Crispy Cocks", as we're all now calling him), has been dead set on gutting the company for all it's worth. The Power Rangers franchise, which the company acquired for $522 million in 2018, is dead in the water, with huge quantities of physical assets being flogged at auction for quick cash. In 2019, they acquired the entertainment company eOne for $4.0 billion, and now they're selling off the whole shebang (except the cash-printing Peppa Pig franchise) for just $500 million. I guess maybe they just fucked it big style?

Because now, Crispy Cocks has proudly announced that Hasbro is going to stop financing movies altogether.

I'm sure that in the wake of this announcement, many of those aforementioned fandom pundits will be drawing a correlation between this announcement, and the box-office figures for Transformers One, and the fact that you personally failed to convince your Mom to go see it with you or whatever. "Ah, you see! They didn't make enough of their money back, and now they're consolidating. Simple economic cause and effect. Market forces." And look, I'm not going to sit here and claim these things are wholly unrelated. Of course they're very related. But I am going to make the case that, in truth, nobody at Hasbro really cared how Transformers One did. Unless it turned out to be some pie-in-the-sky runaway hit, I don't think the future of the Transformers film franchise would've been particularly different if only the film had done better.

With Paramount, Hasbro has been making these movies and having them underperform ever since 2017's The Last Knight—which apparently lost Paramount $100 million—and that's because at the end of the day, what they're most interested in isn't making movies. It's making toy commercials. And on that level, the Transformers films have clearly been a success so far.

Now, Crispy Cocks' skinsuit fashions itself as a gamer, so he can personify Hasbro's hardcore pivot towards digital and tabletop gaming. While we await the release of the assuredly-dogshit, assuredly-hell-to-have-worked-on, assuredly-never-coming-out Transformers: Reactivate, the brand has been whored out to a procession of mobile games you've never heard of, glorified gambling machines designed to hack the monkey part of your brain with bright colors and Things You Recognize. The exact content of these games is irrelevant; all that matters is the announcement, on every single pop culture news outlet simultaneously (naturally—they're all owned by the same company, talk about Monopoly), of New Collaboration Between Transformers And Goon Warriors Free To Download Now. Your daily, weekly, bi-annual reminder to think about that thing you can buy.

That's all any of this stuff is.

All these words spilled about what a good movie Transformers One is, and how bad it is, and why the marketing failed it, and what the next one might be like, and- none of it mattered! It does not matter. From the beginning, this movie was always going to be too preoccupied with its own mercenary interests to be something anyone would ever be able to seriously talk about as a work of art, even corporate art. The actual content of the movie is irrelevant; I've spent very little of this review talking about it, because there's nothing there to talk about. It is the mere fact of the movie's existence that serves its purpose. Like the Optimus Prime Fortnite skin, it's enough for it to occupy our attention.

Maybe that's why they staggered the film's release date: because some marketing exec watched the rough cut and realised, if everyone saw it at once, we'd be done talking about it within a fortnight. And in ten years' time, after it has been paraded around whichever streaming services survive 'til then, and nearly every last cent of revenue has been squeezed out of it, the kids will be able to watch it on YouTube with ad breaks, and decide what they want for Christmas.

To the Transformers fans reading this, I am begging you, unless you happen to own shares in Hasbro for some fucking reason, to disabuse yourself of the feeling that you owe any kind of loyalty to a toy franchise. It shouldn't matter to you one jot how Transformers One did in theatres. The people who actually make the product you care about, the friendly faces paraded before you on livestreams and press tours, don't see this money anyway—they too are merely assets, who can be fired and replaced with cheaper, inferior equivalents.

I'm sure many of you will have, from the very start, seen this review for the foolish endeavour it is. I've wasted all this time criticising Transformers One for its lack of artistic vision, when the truth is, Transformers One is playing an entirely different game. Like the Disney Channel running "Fishy Facts!" segments to subliminally get kids interested in fish a full year and a half before the release of Finding Nemo, this is not a product—it's an ad for a product.

...

Okay I'll be honest, I don't entirely love where this review has ended up. It ends on kind of a "bummer note", I guess you could say. Flashing back to sections I. and II., I feel like things started out so fun. We had that whole bit at the start where I was telling you about the Transformers, remember that? We learned so much together. And there were even a few moments where I was able to express some kind of sincere joy and appreciation over this thing that I supposedly adore so much. Sure, I did a lot of complaining, but it was fun complaining, right? It had like, a sarcastic edge to it, sort of.

What happened? Why am I suddenly talking like I want to cut someone's head off? As I grow more bitter, I type this essay with increasing difficulty. The massive gun that's sprouted from my forearm keeps colliding with my monitor.

Hasbro descends from on high to reward @TFHypeGuy, a grown-ass adult who has spent untold unpaid hours fearlessly replying to every single viral tweet to tell people to go see the film, somehow netting himself 80,000 followers in the process, with a crate of toys, which was probably his end goal from the start. He and I duel. We trade blow after blow. Finally, he clobbers me with a Walmart-exclusive light-up Ultimate Energon Optimus Prime figure. "It didn't have to end this way," he says. Then he banishes me to the surface world to think on my sins.

VII. The Wrong Trousers 👖 | Train Chase Scene 🚂 | Wallace & Gromit

When Eric Pearson came onto the project,

It was late middle of the game. They had a script that had the outline of the story, which is still very much the structural bones of the story now. But what I found interesting about animation is there are certain things that were far along in the process. The train escape to the surface was very far along, so that was just kind of locked. Maybe you could change a line here or there. Meanwhile, the opening, the whole first 10 minutes, was all storyboards and sketches, which changed a bunch of times.

And I do think that's a really difficult position for a scriptwriter to be in. Sure, the parts of the screenplay I feel able to attribute to Pearson, I wasn't particularly impressed by. But I think this anecdote goes to show how unnatural the constraints can be on a story like this. When you think of like, a scene that's key to Transformers One, you're probably imagining something like the Megatron/Optimus fight, or the scene in the mine—not the train scene, which is basically a bit of arbitrary connective tissue bridging the two main locations in the film.

Josh Cooley, the film's director, the face of the film on the press circuit from a creative standpoint, came onboard after five years of previous development work was already done. Writers Andrew Barrer and Gabriel Ferrari, who originally pitched the film and presumably wrote the early drafts of the story, might have already left the project by that point. Aaron Archer and Rik Alvarez, the creative forces behind the Binder of Revelation, left Hasbro years before the film was even pitched. It's no wonder to me that the final result feels incoherent, disjointed, and oddly stilted. It's certainly no wonder that nobody at Hasbro today really seems to care about the film; it's not their baby. If any of the people credited with bringing the project to completion had been given full creative freedom to make whatever Transformers movie they wanted, it would've looked completely different.

Luckily, there are still plenty of areas of the franchise where creators have just been allowed to go ham. Over in Japan, TRIGGER has taken a modest budget for a music-video and produced one of the most visually-striking bits of animation in the franchise, a true love-letter to all the weird parts of its forty-year history. And in America, comic creator Daniel Warren Johnson is halfway through his Eisner-winning new run on the title, which is the kind of thing I would basically recommend to anyone without caveats as being a phenomenal story, period. If that comic can be said to be an advert for anything, it's for Skybound's other, nowhere-near-as-good comic series, or for the unofficial unlicensed copyright-infringing Magic Square Optimus Prime toy Daniel Warren Johnson apparently used as reference the whole time.

I dunno, maybe Hasbro stepping back from financing these films is a good thing, in the long run. Maybe we can do without Transformers movies for a while. And however many years down the line, maybe Paramount or some other studio will put together a new team of talent, and they'll get to do whatever it is they want. And maybe the movie they make will be the one that knocks everyone's socks off.

Truly, I don't know where the road leads from here. It hasn't been built yet. It could turn out to go anywhere.

If you made it this far, I hope some of what I've said has been entertaining or interesting. Thanks for reading!

Time to for me to come clean. There is one other reason why I've waited so long to release this review... and that's because I have a special announcement to make. Last month I set myself a little challenge: to write something that's at least as long as this review, but which isn't another negative-nancy tirade. It's a story.

The working title is "Ice Road Transformers". It's like an episode of that one reality TV show about Canadians driving trucks across frozen lakes—except the truck is Optimus Prime.

Early reviews say it's good! It'll be going through several rounds of revisions, to turn it into a well-oiled machine, hopefully in time for a seasonally-appropriate wide release in February. I'm very excited for you to be able to read it. You can follow me here or on Bluesky to be the first to find out when it's ready!

I'd like to thank my friends Jo and Umar for their work interviewing Cooley and di Bonaventura during the film's press circuit, along with Viv, Callum, and Omar for allowing me to enjoy this film much more than I otherwise might have. I wouldn't have been able to express many of my feelings about this movie nearly so cogently if not for the conversations I had with them. Additional thanks go to Chris McFeely, as his Transformers: The Basics videos (linked throughout this essay) refreshed my memory on a lot of the Aligned stuff, sparing me from having to read The Covenant of Primus again.