#february has the same expression...

[ireonic]

getting Christmas out of the way so I can focus on my true love (Valentine's Day)

[sayruq]

In February, Adham, a 20-year-old Palestinian, was visiting his family’s home in the West Bank. One night while scrolling through Grindr, the gay messaging app, he received a message from an anonymous user “hey,” the user wrote, before “tapping,” the platform’s function for expressing interest. The user, like Adham’s, had a blank profile that included only minimal information about his interests and whereabouts, specifying only where he lived. (Drop Site News has changed his name to protect him from retaliation.) They hit it off and were chatting for a few hours before Adham shared that he was a university student in the West Bank. That prompted the user to share his thoughts on several professors at the university who had recently drawn attention for voicing pro-Palestine views. “He wanted me to be disgusted by them,” Adham told Drop Site. “Why are you trying to convince me that this doctor is a bad person just because he's against the occupation? It feels weird at first. Just bizarre.” Adham chalked it up to a difference of opinion and the two continued to chat. Eventually Adham sent the user his number so they could message on WhatsApp. Once the conversation moved off-platform, the user revealed his identity to Adham. “That’s when he said he worked with Israeli intelligence,” he said. Using Adham’s number, the user had identified him and began sending him messages with the names and photos of his family members he had found on their Facebook profiles. Adham hadn’t even shared his name with the user, much less anything that could point him to his family members—he’s not out to his family. “I started crying and I didn't know what to do,” Adham said. Adham blocked the profile on Grindr, but soon began receiving SMS messages repeating the same threats. “It was a whole night from 12 to the sunrise,” Adham said. “He kept threatening me, saying he will expose me.” The user told Adham he sought intelligence on Adham’s cousins who, at the time, were in an Israeli prison, awaiting trial on suspicion of their involvement with the al-Qassam brigades, Hamas’s military wing. “He told me that I should go to their homes, search and question their parents and get as much information about them as possible,” Adham recalled. “He said that you can't run away from us. We, you know where you live,” Adham said. “So I just get the SMS card, I throw it, I turned off my phone.” In the morning, he checked his mother’s phone continuously to make sure she hadn’t received any messages. One of his friends had his Grindr chats and images sent to his friends and family after receiving similarly threatening messages from a user who claimed to be an Israeli intelligence official. Drop Site could not verify the messages to Adham came from an intelligence official. But a former official with Unit 8200, Israel’s signals-intelligence agency, confirmed the involvement of Shin Bet, Israel’s internal security agency. The Israel Defense Forces declined to comment.

[gothhabiba]

Rabat - A Lidl franchise in France has been marred in controversy following accusations from customers who suggested that the supermarket has been mislabeling Israeli products as Moroccan to mitigate the impact of boycotts against Israeli products.

Lidl, the German international discount retailer chain, is operating in many locations worldwide, notably in Europe and the US.

Many people have shared a video of a customer warning other clients to pay attention to the labels while shopping.

The video documents the customer showing avocado products labeled as “from Morocco.” Upon inspecting the box, the label shows that the product is actually from Israel.

Upon fact-checking, one of the videos was discovered to date back to February and older tweets from 2020 resurfaced, expressing similar concerns from customers.

Many other netizens have asserted that the issue is still persisting. 

“Same thing [happend to me] this morning at the Lidl in Vallauris in 06 - avocados from Morocco on the store label, and on the avocado, an Israeli label. These scammers, you really have to be careful before buying,” an X user wrote on November 8. “I think there are plenty of stores doing this to sell their stocks.”

Another X user also posted a video about the situation, calling on fellow customers to be “wary of false displays in Lidl ad Carrefour supermarkets.”

“The boycott is working so well that these supermarkets label products as coming from Africa or Morocco instead of Israel. Check the packaging and report it to fraud control authorities,” the user added.

(November 10, 2023)

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Five w/ apocalypse reader— 'the end of the world is the most unfortunate circumstance to develop an obsessive trauma bond.'

Yandere Five had been but a barely pubescent teen when he so wisely chose to manipulate time to win an argument with his dismissive parental figure. It was jarring in the beginning. Everything he had ever known had been stripped from him. There was nothing left but debris and blood.

He always had his powers to aid him, yet for the first time they failed. He realized that his reliance on them is what caused this problem in the first place.

How could he be so idiotic?

Fastrack, six years or so, he tended to lose track due to the harsh winter blocking what was left of the sun and the overarching smog always present. Where was he going with this? Oh, yes. It made it difficult to calendar because of the extenuating circumstances.

It had to be about February when he met you. The snow had settled over more monotonous ruins of what was probably a rural town. Most of the sun rays were blocked by smog and strange cloud formations manipulated by the effects of it all. Still, he could see you, leaning against what still stood of a brick building, devoring a stale-looking twinkie.

"This one's interesting, huh, Dolores?" Think we're gonna have to shoot em'?"

Yandere Five ends up sticking by your side to culminate resources and find your true reasoning for being here. That's totally the justification, yeah. It isn't as if he is incredibly touch starved and on the edge of losing what little sanity he had. He just needs to figure you out. That he does, a little too well.

Yandere Five becomes overbearing. You can't tell if you are being questioned by your future murderer or stalker. He demands you answer all his questions promptly and with the utmost truth. He doesn't fluff them and act nicely or reply with basic human empathy. He simply loses his edge after he learns one more thing about you.

Are you allowed to do the same to him in return?

Absolutely not.

You learning about him is on a need to know basis. So if he feels that you need to know it, you will.

Take him by his word. You have to.

Yandere Five isn't the largest fan of physical affection, or physical anything in fact. It takes years in the apocalypse for him to willingly be touched by you. That's at least how he tries to appear. His expressions are always so blank and dismissive. A sarcastic quip is always on the tip of his sharp tongue.

Yet after only a few months of traveling together, he is more than eager to feel your skin under his.

He doesn't want to be near you, no, but you injured yourself by being foolish. He warned you against it, and still you continued. So now he is using some of the minimal medical supplies you both have so he can patch you up. If both of you were back pre-apocalypse, then he would definitely install a tracker inside your arm. For protection, obviously.

He doesn't want to be touched, no, but you're shivering. Losing the only other seemingly living human being, besides Delores, in the apocalypse would leave him at a great disadvantage.

He doesn't want intimacy with you, no. He has just to cuddle you to protect you and keep the nightmares away. He has to kiss your irresistible lips to keep your morale up. He has to let his thoughts about you to linger about in private, unexplored places so he may relieve himself to release relaxing and happy hormones. It's simple as that.

Deep down, he knows the true reason is that he has become utterly smitten with you. He has just chosen to do his best to gaslight himself, even though statistics state it only makes those feelings worse. Perhaps he wants that. Maybe he just wants one person in this fucked-up world that is his and his wholly and unequivocally.

Yandere Five even gets rid of his beloved Delores for you. He was growing paranoid about her. She kept teasing him about how lovesick he was. She was talking about starting to fall in love with you too. The final straw is when she said she wanted a threesome with you. In the dead of night, he disposed of her, a bullet in her head.

Strangely enough you dropped the subject after asking once. It puzzled him. Did you truly dislike Delores that much to be so nonchalant about her disappearance? Did you know what he did? Of course you didn't. You obviously hated Delores and are glad she is gone.

Good.

He likes it this way.

No more distractions, just you two.

Yandere Five doesn't want to figure out the equation to get back to his pre-apoctalyptic life. He writes down a bunch of meaningful numbers in chalk. They aren't coordinations for returning to the academy. They're calculations about your possible romantic relationship, sexual aspects, how submissive you are, and more.

He has detailed a four letter plan in his private journal.

S ubmissivness — how complacent are you? are you gullible to his tactic? how strong is your moral code? would you go along with him knowing how truly infatuated he is with your very existence?

I nterest — how are you feeling? what are your reactions? he needs to know every single thing about you. he needs to know all of your likes just as importantly as your dislikes.

N eutrality — how will his actions affect you and everything else around you? what is the path that will keep you closest to him while also making him seem like the one in charge? this is how we will know if he has gone too far.

S way — how close are others getting to you? are they looking to befriend you? are their true intentions more sinister? he has to analyze every expression and every movement of those who make any contact with you.

You call it his diary. It is not a diary! Diaries are for feelings; journals are filled with statistics. Besides, you won't ever find the location of his actual diary. He writes it in southern Sumerian anyway. You don't have a chance at deciphering it.

Yandere Five meets the Handler while you are snoozing away after a particularly hard day of labor. He can't believe the promise this strange woman puts before him. He works for this Commission for five years, and after that, he's good as done. He gets you in whatever place he wishes for the rest of your lives.

It's a bunch of bullshit as far as he's concerned. Miracles usually don't come with strings attached. Then again, does he really have a choice? He doesn't want to see you suffer anymore than you already have.

So he takes this once in a lifetime 'golden' opportunity.

Let's just hope this one doesn't bite him in the ass.

Yandere Five tells you that he has a way to get you out of here. The both of you just have to spend a little time away from each other. His body psychically aches while way from you, and it isn't just because he's a crotchety old man. The both of you weren't going to be young forever.

He doesn't necessarily hate the job until he learns that killing you is part of keeping the time continuum in check. He doesn't wait a day after learning that information. He takes your hand and escapes somewhere in the past.

Of course his calculations were rushed and were off in the worst possible way. Of course he ends up in the middle of his father's funeral, both of you stuck in your thirteen-year-old bodies. Of course Kalus has to make a sex joke about it.

Damn it! He wants to scream at the top of his lungs.

He needs you! He had you all to himself, and then other people just had to fuck it up.

It's okay. It's okay.

He'll figure out a way to stop all of this and keep you forever.

Forever. What a pleasant thought.

[satoruxx]

SAUDADE.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 3.7k words

✧ SUMMARY: canon au, set after geto leaves so lots of unresolved feelings, alternate between past and present, megumi and tsumiki cameo, satoru has a raging crush on you but you're blind, suguru also had a raging crush on you but you were still blind, slight angst bc canon jjk events, lots of longing on suguru's end, you're confused af, satoru PINES for you and shoko is so tired of him, but overall very fluffy

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: will i ever publish the actual canon au? who knows. this fic is written in that same au but it's just a snippet of their lives. if you've read angel on my shoulder, just know that's an alternate ending of this au where reader dies lol. but this is very sweet bc you don't die !! you and satoru love each other lots but suck at showing it. happy valentine's day everyone <33

you glance at satoru's giddy smile, wariness creeping up your shoulders before turning to shoko. "what's wrong with him?" you ask, shifting slightly from where you're leaning against one of balconies of jujutsu high.

"who knows?" she sighs, eyes flickering up to glance at the snowy haired sorcerer just barely before they turn back to you. "ignore him."

"hey!" satoru huffs, walking closer to sling an arm around your shoulder—casual, like it's something he doesn't have to think about. you grumble under the extra weight, shooting him a glare, but he's too busy smiling like he's up to something.

"so…" he grins down at you, eyes shining and full of mischief. "know what day it is today?"

you blink at him, trying to scour your brain. "what's the date again?"

satoru gives you a blank stare, before sighing heavily. "god you're slow. it's february 14th, stupid."

"oh," you reply blankly, relaxing because it's nothing inherently important. "so valentine's day?"

satoru's smile comes back full force—cheeky and blinding. "exactly! and when i went shopping today guess what happened?"

"what happened?" shoko asks boredly, shaking her head when she makes eye contact with you.

"well," he drags out the word, crossing his arms like he's pleased with himself. "i was walking along after picking up some sweets because—"

"because you have an addiction," you supplement, and satoru pauses to glare down at you, reaching out to flick a long finger against your forehead.

"it's not an addiction! and don't interrupt me! anyways—"

you smother a smile that shoko mirrors.

"—i was walking and then these two girls came up to me all smiley. like they were giggling and shit, right?"

"uh huh."

"and they started going on and on about how i was the most handsome guy they've ever seen. and then they asked how come i was walking around by myself on valentine's day."

you blink, suddenly feeling a strange mix of interest and irritation.

"so i told them that it's not really my thing and that i didn't have anyone to celebrate with anyway. and then they said it was actually a crime that someone like me was single on valentine's day."

you have to suppress a roll of your eyes, though you're not sure why.

"so basically the moral of the story is that i'm extremely charming and super good-looking too! and that girls love me!"

he looks at you, eyes scrutinizing your expression as you glance at shoko, unimpressed.

"that's it? that's your crazy story?"

"well you guys always say i'm full of it when i call myself hot! now i have proof that it's a universal truth!"

"well we're not stupid—" shoko rolls her eyes, hugging her arms to push away the cold as she leans against the railing. "—we know you're freakishly hot. you're just obnoxious and we like teasing you."

"ugh." satoru rolls his eyes, huffing as he stretches his joints. "you guys are ridiculous. and—"

he pauses, an odd expression crossing his face as he blinks in thought. then he's turning to you with the most smug smirk you've ever seen on him. "wait. you think i'm hot?"

you frown, lips parting in mild confusion. "huh?"

"that's what shoko just said. that you think i'm freakishly hot."

your brows shoot up, an unfamiliar rush of heat crawling up your skin. "but she said both of us! like it's just something that's obvious. i mean as long as you have eyes anyone can see—"

"oh so it's obvious, is it?" satoru's expression is oddly giddy, a pink flush settling high on his cheekbones.

you gape at him, suddenly speechless. you don't remember satoru ever having the ability to make you speechless before.

you can't comprehend the stirring in your chest—uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

"you—" you scoff, reaching up to shove him away. "you're full of shit. doesn't change no matter how hot you are."

shoko has gone quiet, eyes darting between you and satoru with an uncharacteristic glint of curiosity. but satoru's gaze does not stray away from you, pearly whites on full display as he licks his lips. he doesn't say anything else, running his fingers through his hair.

"sure sure," satoru hums—pleased. "whatever you say."

you throw shoko an exasperated glare, and she shakes her head, though there is a shine of amusement in her eyes—like she knows something that you don't.

"i mean, they were right you know?" satoru ponders, leaning back against the railing. "why aren't we doing something fun today? we used to go out and buy a shit ton of chocolate back when—"

he stops, expression going sour, before disappearing all together. there is a clear absence, one that the three of you notice but try not to linger on.

("valentine's day?" suguru had asked years ago, glancing down at you with a smile. "you like it?"

"definitely not," you reply, cheeks warming as you fiddle with the sugared churros in your hand, unable to look at him. "what's so great about a day where couples spend a shit ton of money on each other to make the rest of us singles feel miserable?"

a muted chuckle, and when you look up suguru's eyes are shining with mirth. "i'm sure you wouldn't think that if you weren't single."

"i guess," you huff, glancing at the sidewalk. your face feels like it's on fire—but suguru has always had that effect on you. "not very likely to happen though."

the expression suguru throws you will linger in your mind until the day you die. "what do you mean?" he asks—incredulous, like you were speaking nonsense. he stops in his tracks, the busy streets bustling around him as you continue to walk.

you take a bite of your churro, glancing back at him with clear confusion. "huh? oh i just meant me dating someone is unlikely," you shrug, though suguru looks speechless, lips parted and eyes wide behind dark bangs.

"why on earth do you say that?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. he seems to visibly shake off his initial shock to continue walking, and you patiently wait for him to rejoin your side—he does.

"i don't know," you say, somewhat bashfully because you don't usually talk about these things with him. "do you really think there's room for things like that in our lives?"

"do you?" he counters, and you're too busy formulating your answer to notice that he's oddly interested, eyes continuously darting over your face.

"i mean, it'd be great if there was," you ponder, taking another quick bite. "it'd be nice to be able to settle down with someone even after all the crap we've gone through."

"right…" suguru seems to nod along with you, matching your steps even with his longer stride.

"but—" you stress. "considering that most of us are too traumatized or dead by that time, i don't have much faith."

you laugh at your own statement, but there isn't much amusement in it at all. putting it into words makes you truly realize how shitty your lives are even at such a young age.

your mind drifts to the cerulean eyed sorcerer who's currently off in a different city, being made to fight because he is god on earth in a seventeen year old body. it drifts to a brown haired girl who sits, secluded in a room as bodies are sent to her on a conveyor belt, her hands outstretched to feel blood and gore and horror day in and day out. then it drifts to the boy who is most like you, the one with the dark bangs who rationalizes this pain, this service you have devoted yourselves to with the need to do good for others—because there is no other explanation for why you have to go through this.

the same boy who takes your answer in critically, eyes heavy with an oddly somber sheen. he doesn't say anything, thinking hard, and you focus on eating your churro because you've never once found silence with suguru to be uncomfortable.

you are halfway finished when he breaks it.

"well…" suguru's voice is oddly high, a tick of nerves that doesn't usually infiltrate his calm tone. "if there was room for it, what would a good valentine's day look like for you?"

you laugh, loud and unfiltered, and suguru's skin flushes at the sound.

"i don't know!" your laughter dies down into hushed giggles. "i can't think of anything. besides this is stupid as hell!"

"indulge me," he says quietly, and when you turn to look up at him he's staring at you deeply—eyes hooded and smile gone. you suddenly feel oddly parched as heat crawls up your neck.

"um—" you swallow, the churro in your hand forgotten as you glance at the sidewalk again. "i-i'm not sure. i've really never thought that much about it."

"would you want flowers?" he asks. you suddenly become acutely aware that his voice has gone lower, throaty and deep in a way that sends chills up your spine.

you shake your head quietly, somehow nervous to look at him. "it makes me sad that they die off in a few days. better to keep them planted than cut them for a bouquet."

a quiet huff of laughter—fond and nostalgic. "that's on par for you. very in-character."

you lick your lips, tasting the sugar from the treat in your hand. "i guess…maybe i'd like chocolates?"

"chocolates?" suguru repeats, like he's surprised. you don't know why his reaction has you stumbling, but you shake your head quickly, appalled that you're even telling him this in the first place.

"i mean—it's not a big deal or anything! even just a small box of them would do! i don't really care anyway—"

"i would've guessed you'd like a plushie or something along those lines." he hums, a small smile stretching across his face. there's a dust of color blooming across his cheekbones, and you think he looks unfairly charming.

"that's good too!" you reply, too quickly, before catching yourself and ducking your head. "i mean…i don't know. plushies are really cute. i think they'd be a cute gift."

there's a beat of silence, and when you look up suguru is smiling at you like you've just put the stars in the sky for him. he hums to himself, eyes darting around the streets and looking much more at ease than he did a few minutes prior. you find yourself unable to look away.

"what would you want?" the words escape before you can stop them.

"me?" he asks, tilting his head in mild surprise.

"yeah. what would you want for valentine's day?"

suguru blanches, gaze darting over your facial features with shocking speed. it lingers on your eyes, before flickering downward, then shooting back up. you're trying to trace them but they're too fast, and he shuts them before you can process anything. he keeps his eyes closed as you curiously await his answer.

to this day you don't quite understand what he meant.

"anything i can get," he answers with a rueful smile, shaking his head at you fondly. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you've never seen before. "anything at all.")

a familiar voice tickles your ear amongst the silence even now, and you rub your palms together. you can feel satoru's gaze on you, trailing over your expression—searching, analyzing.

you let him—used to it.

"that's enough of that for now. plus don't the two of you have to go check on the kids today?" shoko asks, eyeing the two of you pointedly. her voice has a strain to it, one that you can only pick up because you've known her so long. but you're grateful for the change in subject as you glance at satoru, who checks his phone.

"ah shit. they should be back from school by now but we were supposed to pick up some groceries beforehand," he mutters under his breath before looking down at you. "you wanna head over there first and i'll go get some stuff?"

"sure," you reply, patting shoko's shoulder in farewell. satoru steps closer, digging into his pockets before dropping the apartment keys into your palm. he pushes his shades up the bridge of his nose, eyes trailing over your face like he's searching for something, and yet you can't make out what.

a beat of silence.

"d-don't forget to get some of those cookies tsumiki said she liked last time." you drop the keys into your bag and shrug off the odd feeling of this conversation—something strange that you don't feel like looking into because you're scared of what you'll find out about yourself.

satoru's eyes go soft, a mixture of somber and affectionate, and he smiles easily. "you got it." he reaches out to ruffle your hair, licking his lips as he heads for the door. "see you later."

you watch him go, and think that you'd rather have him by your side. but you keep that to yourself—so used to sewing your mouth shut.

("which do you want?" you ask satoru, who peers at the shelves over your shoulder. his close proximity does nothing to you, but he seems oddly giddy when he glances at your side profile.

"hmm, the white chocolate," he answers, low and hushed, like it's meant only for you to hear. you can feel the energy radiating off of him—can feel it shake your very soul.

"okay," you reply, reaching up for the box, but satoru beats you to it. he stretches up, towering over you and you shoot him an playful glare. he had gotten a growth spurt over the holidays and wouldn't let you forget it.

"aw this is so sweet of you," he teases, excited and all too pleased. you roll your eyes, hiding a smile.

"you're the one who's been bugging us for valentine's day chocolate."

"like it wasn't a good idea," he counters with a grin. "even if we're all single we should still get chocolate."

you snort in amusement, before turning to call out across the aisle. "suguru which one should i get you?"

the dark haired male meets your gaze, and the warmth of it sends a tickle through your stomach. he shakes his head with a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. "don't worry about it. you know i'm not big on sweets anyway."

you deflate—he smiles at you like he's happy you asked.

"you can give me his share," satoru interjects with a playful smirk, pressing his palm into your shoulder. you shake your head in exasperation.

"no way. i'm still going to get him something." your eyes dart across the shelves, before you reach up and pull down a box of unsweetened chocolates, tied with a red ribbon. "this should be good."

satoru eyes the box, and you glance at him. "suguru would like these right?"

"yeah," he shrugs, before crossing his arms. "as long as they aren't crazy sweet. he hates sweet stuff."

"okay good. then i'll get him these!" your smile stretches wide, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"you're being awfully thoughtful today," satoru comments. you look at him quickly, quirking a brow.

"well i can't just get you one. you're not my only friend." you shoot back.

satoru grins. "guess that's true."

his arm takes its position around your shoulder as you head towards the counter.

"you were really particular about getting suguru something though. any special reason?" he pipes up, and you immediately go still, looking at him as you try to bite back an uncharacteristic surge of panic.

"of course not! i got something for everyone. i even got shoko the rum and raisin chocolates." you say quickly, fighting the urge to crumble under satoru's implications. "besides this was all your idea anyway!"

you dig into your wallet, pulling out exact change and smiling at the cashier, who puts all of your chocolates into a bag. you decide you'll gift them later, when you're in the comfort of the dorm.

"okay let's leave—" you pause when you turn around, breath catching.

because satoru is staring at you, an odd expression on his face. there's something behind his eyes—realization mixed with another emotion you can't quite place.

you're not sure if the expression excites you or scares you.)

you don't expect tsumiki to be so excited when you push open the door. she bounds out of her small bedroom, practically tripping over herself as she chants your name over excited giggles.

"hey kiddo, how was school?" you smile as she throws her arms around your waist. you pat her hair, making a mental note to take her for a haircut sometime soon.

"good! my friends gave me some chocolates today!" she's giddy as she says this, and you smile playfully.

"oh yeah? any boys?"

she immediately flusters at your quirked brow and teasing grin. "of course not!"

you laugh, patting her head again as you take a seat on the couch. "okay okay! where's your brother?"

you don't see the dark haired nine-year-old anywhere. normally he'd be doing his homework at the kitchen table—so much more diligent than you ever were at that age.

"he's in his room," tsumiki answers, and your eyes catch the sneaky bit of amusement in her face.

"doing what?" you ask curiously. she smothers a smile, shrugging.

"i'm not sure." she raises her voice to call out. "megumi! she's here!"

you can hear him grumbling down the hall, hear his little footsteps padding across the floor—affection swells within you.

you think back to the day satoru dragged you to meet him, and you internally remind yourself to thank him.

"hey gumi." you offer the kid a smile, though it falters when you notice the way his hands are hiding behind his back even as he mumbles a quiet greeting in return. "what's wrong?"

"i…" his voice catches, and you notice the heavy pink flush crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. "i just wanted to…"

he trails off again, and tsumiki nudges him discreetly. "just do it!" she whispers, not all that quietly. your eyes dart between them in confusion, and megumi tries to sink into his sweater's collar.

"megumi what's wrong? are you okay?" there's a note of concern you can't keep from your voice, and tsumiki gently pushes him closer to you. "did something happen?"

"no…" he mumbles, attempting to hide his face even more. "i just wanted to…give…"

you blink owlishly. "give…?"

megumi lets out an exasperated huff, brows pinching helplessly before thrusting his arms into your line of sight. "here!"

your lips part. in his little hands are a box of chocolates and a small stuffed bear.

"this is…" you trail off, taking them from his hands.

"he wanted to give you something for valentine's day! to show you how much he appreciates you!" tsumiki interjects, practically bouncing on her feet.

"no i didn't! it's just chocolates stop making it sound like such a big deal!" megumi immediately snaps, glaring at his sister. you can practically see his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you think you will never stop caring for this kid. there's a tickle of a distant memory—small fists clenched around a backpack and deep green eyes that stare up at you in childish apprehension.

those same green eyes now sneak glances at you, assessing your reaction, and you decide to put him out of his misery.

"this is so sweet megumi. thank you!" you smile at him gratefully, touched beyond recognition. your heart swells with affection once more.

megumi shoves his hands into his pockets, a stubborn pout on his face that makes the fat of his cheeks look that much more endearing. "whatever, it's not a big deal."

tsumiki shoots him a glare, before turning to you with a wide smile. "he says that but he was really excited to get you something!"

megumi gapes at her, eyes going wide in betrayal before they narrow. "shut up! besides it was gojo-san who gave me the idea!"

you blink, before smiling somewhat gingerly. though there is a strange sort of satisfaction in you when you hear those words—the mention of satoru's name. as detached as he tries to remain, you know all too well how much more there is to his character.

"i thought gojo-san would suggest flowers," tsumiki ponders, reaching out to squish the little bear before looking at you curiously. "aren't flowers a typical gift to get someone for valentine's day?"

you shrug, smiling carelessly. "i guess so. but i'm glad he didn't because i don't really like flowe—"

it hits you. echoes of a conversation that occurred many many winters ago. it washes over you, a refreshing tide that cools your skin and tickles your face.

of course, it made sense now that you thought about it. there were no secrets between satoru and suguru after all.

a chime cuts through the silence. you glance down at your phone to see a casual text from the snowy haired wonderboy who has been by your side since the beginning, and you can't help but smile.

i'll be home in a minute :P

a promise that has remained constant all these years.

so you type back.

hurry back. waiting for you.

you smile to yourself, heart thudding heavily against your ribcage. "hm."

tsumiki quirks a brow. "what?"

"nothing," you shake your head, wetting your lips as you reach down to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she smiles at you, stars in her eyes, and you think you'll remember that smile forever. "i was just thinking."

"about what?" megumi can't stop the curiosity from seeping into his voice as he peers at you. you grin, gently patting his head with the bear plushie and laughing when he swats you away.

"valentine's day," you answer, smiling at them as you stand up to head to the door. you already know who's about to knock. "i was just thinking that it's not too bad of a holiday."

[tonicandjins]

learning languages | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | nct haechan x reader word count: 18.5k genre: university au, getting together, smut, fluff, angst summary: in which you're an exchange student and donghyuck teaches you the essential korean phrases you need, and eventually how to fall in love with him tag list: @smwhrinthehaze @byungbyungbaek @sundamariis @thiccfullsun @yesohhsehun @haechoshi @najmnluvr @liz-zo @heyitsconysstuff @magicastle @novawon @gaeulswrld author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long, but here it is! I imagine conversations with everyone in Korean, except for Mark! 😊 I imagine the conversations with Mark in English. I also have 0 knowledge with the Korean language except from the common phrases every Kpop fan knows lol. So please bare with me and feel free to correct me! ^^ Please also consider tipping me if you want to! NCT Dream is coming to my country this April and I’d love to see them if I could :) TIP ME HERE.

날씨가 추워 (nalssiga chuwo) – the weather is cold

The rain is pouring when you arrive in Incheon. 

It’s not as harsh as it is where you come from, but the February breeze still makes you shiver and curse under your breath, and while you’re wallowing and pouting over the fact that your first day in South Korea is not going as well as you wanted, Mark is chirpy—a little too happy for your liking. 

Of course, Mark is happy. Your bitterness over the weather is not going to spoil his energy, the exact same one—maybe stronger—he has had over the past couple of weeks, counting down the days he’d be back in Seoul, finally. Mark has told you that it had been over a decade since he last visited South Korea, and the Student Exchange Program from your university had been the best opportunity for him to come back after so long, too long. The stupid smile on his face somehow makes you feel better, especially when he jumps from his seat when he sees his childhood friend walk towards your area. 

Renjun is handsome like the picture that Mark sent you a week before your flight to South Korea, but it feels a little unfair that he’s even more attractive in person. His voice sounds like honey and the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he approaches you and Mark. 

They jump into a tight, dramatic hug that makes a few other people in the waiting area look, but the boys don’t care. Mark lifts Renjun up from the ground, it’s almost embarrassing. The sight makes you feel warm. You wonder how Mark feels. 

It must be amazing, you think, to finally meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Mark had always expressed his yearning for the place—the people, the friends he always had to leave behind when visiting during summer—and it makes you wonder how it feels like to have friends and family away from you. 

Evidently, this is your first time to be away from home. You live (or used to at this point) in a dormitory, a two-minute walk to the campus, a good hour away from home, but you always went home whenever you craved for your mother’s dishes. You’ve never considered living away from home. Sure, you had plans to move out eventually, but not in a different time zone, not in an entirely different culture. Mark, on the other hand, is frequently moving around, dragging his suitcase from place to place, leaving people behind and promising he’d come back when he can.

Born in Canada, Mark had been to more places that you could count, but he has told you many times that nowhere else feels like home, like Seoul. He’s told you many stories of the time his family lived there for a few years before going back to Canada, of his annual visits in the summer, and of his devastation when life had caught up with him that he had to stop visiting when he turned eleven. 

You remember his voice, its tone and emotion, when he called you a couple of months ago, informing you of the exchange program that the university’s administration had posted on the students’ corner, and how fucking amazing it would be if you could sign up with him. 

“It would be a good addition to your credentials,” he had told you. “It’s not going to be for a long time, a semester at least. And we have the option to stay the whole academic year if we wanted to! Plus, I already know a lot of people there. We’ll be fine!”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you had answered, feigning hesitation, even when you knew deep down that Mark had already convinced you by the tone of his voice when he revealed the news. “I’ve never been that far away from home. Remember when we went camping in ninth grade? I cried. For three whole days. I’m not going to survive a semester. Besides, I know not a single Korean word.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he had begged. “Think about it. You’ll be with me the entire time. If we pass the screening, the program will sign us up for free Hangul lessons—though, let’s be honest, I don’t really need it.”

“Why do you have to bring me anyway?” you had asked out of curiosity.

“Because I know you’ll love it there,” he had answered. “Your obsession with studying culture and languages will be satisfied because there is no better way to learn a culture than experiencing the whole thing with your best friend!”

You remember humming in response, as if you’re thinking deeply about it. Mark sighed on the other line, his words making you laugh and finally agree. 

“The chances of Mom letting me go is bigger when I tell her you’re coming with me,” he had admitted. Mark, upon hearing your agreement to his proposal, began listing out the places he would take you. The phone call lasted for three more hours and it had seemed like Mark already had an entire plan in his head before he even asked you if you would go with him. 

Passing the program had been easy and so was acquiring your visa. What was truly the pain in the ass, you admit, is learning the damn language. You salute Mark for being able to speak Korean so fluently, but he’s shit at teaching you and you had to rely on the free lessons you had taken every weekend and your favorite language mentor, Lee Minho in Legend of the Blue Sea. Your Korean is awful. Your tongue is a little too short, too stiff, for said language, and the situation almost makes you back out of the entire program and ditch Mark. 

But here you are, still shit at Korean, but standing among hustling people and waiting for your best friend to wrap up the moment he’s sharing with his long-time friend. Renjun finally catches your eyes as you awkwardly watch them on the side, your backpack becoming heavier each second you’re standing on the airport tiles. He pulls away from Mark, smiling, beaming towards you and offers a handshake. 

“Hwang Renjun,” he introduces. You remember their last names go first here. “Nice to meet you.”

It almost startles you when he speaks English. Mark forgot to mention his friend is fluent, you think. 

You tell him your name, voice smaller than it usually is, and express your relief that he speaks English. 

“I’m originally not from here either,” he explains. “I’m Chinese. My family had to move here before I could even properly pronounce words for my Dad’s work. Went to an international school, where I met Mark back in second grade.”

So, he’s cute and multilingual. How unfair.

“And I’d love to chat longer,” he says, switching to Korean now, before you can even respond. “But Hyuck is waiting in his car. We could talk on our way to your dormitory. For now, let’s go. Hyuck hates waiting.”

“Hyuck drove? What happened to your car?” Mark asks, helping you with your luggage and pushing the cart himself. Renjun insists to carry your backpack, and he had already gently pulled it from your shoulder before you could refuse.

Mark and Renjun talk about Hyuck, both switching to speaking Korean now, on their way out of the arrival area and it doesn’t take long for them to spot their friend’s car outside. The rain had stopped pouring by the time you’re settling yourselves inside their friend’s car. The second you settle yourself on the leather seat, you sigh in relief. Traveling is a lot more exhausting than you had initially thought. 

Renjun sits on the passenger seat, right beside Hyuck, you assume, and Mark settles himself beside you.

“Mark Lee,” Hyuck greets, looking at Mark through the rearview mirror. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

It takes you a second to understand what he said. It’s only then that you realize you really are in Korea. 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark responds in the same tone. “You’re real. I’m happy to see you in person and not just through Facetime. I want to hug you.”

“Am I better looking in person?” Hyuck teases. “Hug me when we’re at your dormitory. I’ll even kiss you on the lips if you want to.”

“Disgusting,” Mark grimaces. “By the way—” He turns his attention to you the same time Hyuck begins driving. “This is Y/N.”

Hyuck only smiles, nodding a little to you through the rearview mirror, brushing his brown hair using his fingers to fix it up. Renjun begins to ask how the flight was and Mark replies. All three boys strike up a conversation in Korean and it was all too much, too fast, for you to catch up and understand anything, so you stay quiet on your seat, leaning against the window, and begin to wonder how things will go for the entire spring semester you’ll be spending in this foreign city. 

Mark never told you that the drive from Incheon to Seoul is long, so far that you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.  When you arrive at the dormitory, it’s past six in the afternoon and Mark’s friends ask kindly if you want to go out for dinner. Politely and quite incoherently, you tell them that you’d like to stay. Mark insists on staying home with you and unpacking your belongings, but you urge him to go, spend some time with his friends and walk around. Mark hesitates, but agrees nonetheless, promising he will come back in an hour.

The place the program had picked for you and Mark is not that bad. It’s nothing like home, but it’s not bad. It makes you wonder how Mark does it. You remember not being able to sleep on the first few nights on your dormitory’s bed when you were a freshman. Mark had never told you if he’s had trouble adapting to places he’s been. Maybe you could ask him in the morning. 

The exhaustion hits you again upon entering one of the rooms. Room assignment is yet to be decided, but Mark wouldn’t mind if you sleep on one of the beds while he’s out. And so, you sleep. 

You don’t remember what you dream of. And Mark wakes you at seven in the morning, reminding you that you had to unpack and go grocery shopping. Momentarily, you forget where you are. It hits you the same way it does in his friend’s car. You’re in a different country. A different language. A different time zone. 

It doesn’t feel like home at all even though it’s cold. But you guess you’ll have to make it work. At least until the semester ends. 

약속해요 (yagsoghaeyo) – I promise

When Mark told you he knew a lot of people in Seoul, you should’ve known he was bluffing because he literally knew only seven people.

Mark Lee’s friends are warm and loud and somehow you feel out of place when they all decide to hangout where you and Mark are. It’s the first week of the semester, and you have completed all the orientation and tour you need; Mark, on the other hand, is still catching up with everyone.

By everyone, he meant Kevin Moon, a senior who is also Mark’s cousin’s long-distance boyfriend who happens to be studying in SNU too, Hwang Renjun from Natural Sciences, Lee Donghyuck from Music, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin from Engineering and Architecture, Zhong Chenle from Humanities, and Park Jisung from Business Administration. Which is why every day, for the past five days, you’re at a place called Arcade, with Mark and two or three people from their group.

It turns out Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.

Huang Renjun, you understand why Mark is closest to him among all. He’s soft all over but sharp in the mouth. Renjun, you learn, likes to talk about life and likes to give people advice when they need it. He’s reserved with other people but is the complete opposite when he’s with his friends.

Lee Jeno is shy. He normally joins the group after his internship at a construction corporation in the outskirts of Seoul, which is why you haven’t really seen him much—only twice. You haven’t had that many conversations with him yet, but he’s kind enough to pass you the ketchup when he sees you staring at it from the end of the table.

Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung are best friends. There’s not a day that you have not seen either without the other, kind of reminds you of how you and Mark are. They join whenever one is available—two peas in a pod.

Na Jaemin is the closest with Lee Donghyuck. You see them talking in their bubble more frequently than the others. Jaemin is mysterious and a little cold—the complete opposite of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, well, you’ve got a lot to say about him.

It isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, because Mark’s friends are kind enough to slow down when they talk to you and are quite protective of you, especially when a random stranger bravely comes up to you to introduce themselves. Lee Donghyuck, in particular, who’s as warm as the sun touching your skin at nine in the morning and whose voice is careful and assuring, ensures that you’re never out of place—even when you feel it all the time. From the day the semester started, there hasn’t been a day when Donghyuck isn’t hanging out with you and Mark at Arcade.

Mark normally picks you up from class because thank God your schedules are aligned to each other despite having different majors. The College of Social Sciences is quiet, unlike the building right beside you, College of Music, and Mark usually takes five minutes to find you, because you can’t trust yourself to walk around on your own—at least not yet. But today, Mark asked if you could meet Kevin first because his girlfriend had something for him from Canada.

“Hyungseo!” You hear someone call, making you look up from your phone to see Kevin walking towards you. He stops and turns around, a girl you’ve seen around the college of social sciences once or twice running towards him.

“Don’t forget to bring the laminated cards we need for Friday!” the lady shouts. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and turns back to you.

“Y/N, right?” he asks in English. You nod. He offers a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met personally yet. But I’m Kevin.”

“She called you Hyungseo, though,” you trail off, accepting the handshake anyway. “I’ve seen your pictures from Giselle’s phone, so I knew it was you.”

He laughs. “Hyungseo’s my Korean name. You should’ve packed her with you.”

You reach for your bag and hand him the box that’s been sitting in your backpack all day. “Here,” you say. “No plans on visiting sometime soon?”

Kevin sighs. “I wish I could,” he answers. “It’s not as easy as we thought.”

“You guys sound okay though,” you comment. “I mean, Giselle always sounds so happy when she talks about you back home.”

This makes Kevin smile. “Oh, she does?”

“Why would she think of getting you a gift all the way from home if she’s not?” you ask, biting your tongue as soon as the words come out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s talk about this over some soju when you find a dude you want to spend the rest of your life with here,” he jokes. “Thanks for bringing this. You and Mark have been so busy; he’s been declining all my invitations to hangout.”

You sigh, “Yeah. It’s only the first week and there are lot of things we had to do. I’ll ask him if we can hang out on the weekend?”

Kevin agrees and hands his phone to you, asking to put your number so he could call you. You do and tell him you’re grateful you could talk to someone in English aside from Mark and bid him goodbye when he leaves. You shoot Mark a text, telling him you’ll be waiting for him and that Kevin’s dropped by to get his gift from Giselle.

Hence, you wait outside, busying yourself with your phone, trying to avoid any interaction as much as you can, and you don’t notice Donghyuck standing beside you until he taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile.

“Mark is running late,” he says slowly. “Let’s go to Arcade together.”

You smile at Donghyuck’s attempt to pronounce Arcade how you would and nod at him. He leads the way out of the building, his backpack on one shoulder, and asks you how your classes are so far.

“It’s okay,” you answer because it’s all you can think of. “Thank God my professor in Psychology speaks English.”

Donghyuck hums. “It must be difficult for you.”

“It is,” you confess.

Among everyone you have met so far, Donghyuck gives you the feeling of comfort; you’re not exactly the most outgoing person nor the least—you were in between. You were okay with that. And you were okay that Donghyuck is okay with that, too. He doesn’t push you to speak more (probably because he knows you most likely do not know how to say whatever you had in mind), but can be very persuasive when there’s a hint that you’re relaxed.

Lee Donghyuck is bold and charming and amiable like nobody you’ve ever known. Normally, or at least with how you’re used to, people are a little more reserved around people they just met. And culturally speaking, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to be so forward and already so comfortable hanging out with you, what more with having conversations like this.

“Don’t worry, though,” he assures. “You’ll be fine. You’re here for about six months, anyway. I promise it’ll be the best six months of your college years.”

He’s also bright like this—optimistic and kind and assuring. You’re glad Mark is friends with people like him, with Donghyuck.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you try to say, a phrase Mark taught you the other night. “Did I say that right?”

Donghyuck giggles, stopping and reaching up to ruffle your hair. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“That, I am,” you joke back, more comfortable around him now.

“I promise,” he says. “It’ll be so good; you wouldn’t want to go back to Canada.”

한국말 잘 못해요 (hangugmal jal moshaeyo) – I don’t speak Korean well | 죽을래 (jug-eullae) – Do you want to die?

Donghyuck turns out to be a better teacher than Lee Minho and Mark Lee combined. He gifts you a small, pocket-friendly notebook, asking you to keep it for the rest of your stay, notably commenting that the material’s size will allow you to bring it everywhere you go. Hence, the tiny, brown faux leather notebook is safely tucked between your necessities inside your bag.

The first sentence he teaches you turns out to be the most essential: I don’t speak Korean well.

Donghyuck takes you to a café called 7 Days, an entirely different vibe compared to Arcade. You don’t question Donghyuck when he puts an arm on your shoulder as you walk together inside the café, but he asks you right away when he must have felt you stiffen from the touch: “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you. “Here, have a look around and I’ll get you something to drink before we decide what we want to eat. I have the perfect drink for you!”

He goes before you could say anything. You look and realize that the café is not so bad. Its aesthetic is the complete opposite of what Arcade’s going for—cozy, serene, almost like a good place to study or sleep in, whatever you need to survive the day—and the Biscoff latte is bomb, you don’t think you can drink latte differently now.

Conversations with Donghyuck could, well, unfortunately, go only where your limit is. He’s fun and likes to tell a lot of stories, but it’s always interrupted with you asking what a word means and him pulling up his phone and have his translation app say it for you. He makes jokes that you regrettably do not understand, but Donghyuck doesn’t take it to the heart and only says: “By the end of the term, you’ll be saying these jokes to Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck excuses himself to go to the toilet about an hour later and allows you a few minutes by yourself, which you happily spend taking pictures of the interior of the café. You sigh when you realize you didn’t take a picture of the Biscoff latte when it was full and pretty. Someone taps you on the shoulder, and it could only be Donghyuck, so you turn with a smile.

“I forgot to take a picture of the drink—Oh.” It’s not Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” you ask politely.

The man towers over you and he smiles warmly. Your cheeks flush when he does, because you probably mispronounce each syllable from that sentence. “I’m Sanha.”

You bow courteously, still have 0 idea why the man is talking to you.

“I don’t see you around often,” he says. “And I’m here, like, almost all the time unless I have a class. My dad owns the place. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s… okay,” you say. Sanha chuckles, and your face is hot you probably look like a red potato now. “I mean, not just okay, I just can’t find the words to—”

He takes Donghyuck’s seat. “I can teach you,” he offers. “We can meet up here, and—”

Donghyuck calls your name, voice firm and monotonous like never before. “It’s getting late. Mark texted me to take you home early because Chenle’s making dinner at your place.”

You look at Sanha apologetically, still unable to reply properly so you only say, “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more because he’s already helping you out of your seat, turning you around so you could start walking towards the door, pushing you until you’re out of the café.

You hear him sigh as you walk away from the café, arm around your shoulder like how you entered the place.

“Y/N, my sweet pea,” he softly says. “Please don’t to talk strangers.”

You shrug, “It’s not like I could just ignore him when he was already taking you space.”

He scoffs. “When strangers start talking to you and being all brave and upfront, you tell them: I don’t speak Korean well. Then just start hitting them with English words and exaggerate your accent. That’s how Mark Lee tries to avoid conversations with girls sometimes because he’s a loser and women make him nervous.”

“I don’t speak Korean well,” you repeat, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

“Where’s the notebook I asked you to bring everywhere?” Donghyuck asks. “Write that down.”

You nod and tell him you’d do it later. Donghyuck leads the way towards the stop just in time for the bus that’s about to leave. You and him hop in, taking the seats in the back, giggling when Donghyuck almost topples over as soon as the bus starts to move. He lets you sit by the window and starts telling you about how his sister always fights him to get the window seat and he’s never won so he naturally just gives people the said seat.

You’re nearby the next stop when you ask him: “Donghyuck, what if I tell people I don’t speak Korean well and they wouldn’t stop bothering me?”

Donghyuck looks nice in his brown, fluffy jacket, face bare, his eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks even nice whenever he smiles like this.

“Y/N, do you know how cute you are?” An answer you don’t expect. “You’re so cute when you ask questions like this. I want to put you in my pocket.”

“Donghyuck,” you sigh, expecting a serious answer.

He reaches up to pat your head. “You won’t have to worry because we won’t let you be on your own unless you ask us to stay away. Especially me. Not me. I’ll make sure to take care of you and Mark while the two of you are here.”

You nod, still not satisfied with the answer. The Sanha situation awhile ago makes you realize how helpless you’d be if you weren’t with Mark or any of his friends. Donghyuck probably notices your dissatisfaction when he feels like you’re sulking, which you definitely are, because he chuckles and pokes your cheek to get your attention again.

“If it makes you feel better,” he says. “You could always ask them if they want to die.”

“That’s mean!” you gasp.

“Or tell them to fuck off,” he shrugs.

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I don’t hear you and Mark say ‘fuck you’ to each other every day.”

You laugh at that. “Saying it in Korean hits different.”

“Right!” Donghyuck agrees. “I’ve been telling people saying fuck you in Korean has more impact than in any other language. I can say the word fuck every day.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” you joke.

Donghyuck coos. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. You’re cracking jokes now.”

The bus halts at your stop, and Donghyuck helps you up by taking your hand the way he’s helping you learn the language. It’s only when you’ve reached the street to the apartment you share with Mark that you realized you’ve been holding hands all the way from the bus stop.

저 알러지 있어요 (jeo alleoji iss-eoyo) – I’m allergic

“Do you not understand what you just did, Mark Lee?” you ask in disbelief.

It’s only a month into your stay in Seoul, and Mark does the dumbest thing ever. Mark Lee comes home with a pet cat.

There were three rules for the spring semester, three very specific and very easy rules: one, to always text each other’s location as soon as you step foot outside of the apartment (which you and him are constantly compliant about; you love Mark Lee for that); two, to never skip a class unless you’re sick (you’re only here until July; Mark decided he’s not wasting a single day in Seoul, even if it means going to classes on time and by schedule without fail); and lastly, don’t keep things you won’t be able to take back home.

Mark had said that these rules are specifically for you because rule number one ensures your safety, rule number ensures you get the real Korean education experience, and rule number three apparently ensures you’re not leaving anything important at the airport when you leave—which now you think is bullshit. The rules are more for him than you, but you love Mark Lee, and it’s not like the cat isn’t cute.

“But, Y/N,” Mark pouts. “She kept on staring at me with these eyes when Renjun was busy comparing brands of dog treats. It was like her eyes were calling me, asking me to take her home!”

The calico cat is a baby; Mark said it’s not even five months old yet. It’s the last from seven siblings, the last one to be adopted (and you think Mark is only telling you this to convince you this is a good idea. She jumps out from Mark’s lap and goes to you, staring at you first before settling herself on your lap.

“She loves you already!” Mark comments.

You sigh. “Mark. You know we can’t take her home, right? We’re leaving in like, five months.”

“Which means I have five months to convince our friends to adopt her while I’m in Canada!” he answers enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling with the way he’s talking. “I couldn’t just leave her there. My heart wouldn’t allow me to leave without her!”

“Fine,” you give up. “Don’t cry on me on the plane back home when we leave her.”

Mark chuckles. “I think I should be more worried about you crying on the plane back home.”

Someone knocks on your door before you can ask what he means by that. It’s Mark who stands and welcome the person, and of course, it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Saturday. Saturday means Donghyuck comes and hangs out at your place because he no longer has to work in the university library on the weekends. He’d quit, saying his big mouth isn’t fit for the library, and had asked the school administration to reassign him to another facility. Part of his scholarship is to work at least 16 hours a week in one of the university’s facilities. He’s paid, of course, but Donghyuck says he’s not paid enough to keep his mouth shut for 16 hours a week. The admin asked for a week to figure out where he’d be assigned next, so he had this entire weekend all to himself, which, to how it looks like now, he’d decided to spend with you and Mark.

Mark lets Donghyuck in. The latter’s smile falters when he sees you; he only gives you a curt nod. And it’s not like you’re expecting Donghyuck to cuddle you on the couch, alright? It’s just that, you’ve known each other for a month now, and have hung out together a handful of times—just the two of you—and he called you yesterday telling you he’d come hangout with you and Mark for the weekend, even said something about teaching you to play Apex if you have the energy for it. And it’s not like he’s obligated to come sit beside you as soon as he enters your apartment, but you’re confused when he sits on the single couch far away from you, stance uncomfortable and his face looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Mark’s voice fades away when he asks Donghyuck what their plans are, to which Donghyuck answers: “I’m actually just here to say hi. I’m leaving in a bit.”

“No way,” Mark protests.

“Or we could go out?” Donghyuck offers.

“Uh-uh,” Mark refuses. “Y/N has been excited all morning to see you. You’re not going to disappoint her today.”

“I didn’t say anything—” You try to say, but couldn’t translate what you want to say quick enough. “Donghyuck obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Over the course of a month living in Seoul, you and Donghyuck had grown closer more than anyone. It would be ridiculous to deny Donghyuck’s seemingly unceasing affection towards you, and in the same manner, it would be a lie if you’d say you’re not enjoying all the attention he’s been giving you. Above the flirty and friendly advances he makes (but never crossing the line), Donghyuck has grown to be a good friend. During the first couple of weeks, you would refer to him as Mark’s friend; it’s safe you say you’re friends with him now.

Donghyuck’s decided to pick you up from the college of Social Sciences, convincing Mark that his building is literally next to yours and that a ten-minute walk to Arcade with you is not going to hurt him—Mark’s been walking with you for many years anyway, he would mumble under his breath, close enough for you to hear but distant enough for you to understand what he truly means. Hence, with the growing friendship you have with him, you wonder what you had done this time.

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck answers the question you had in mind, both hands raised in defense. You raise an eyebrow. “That.”

Donghyuck points at your lap, Mark’s unnamed cat sleeping soundly now. Oh.

“I’m allergic,” he explains. “I can’t be around one within like a five-meter radius otherwise, I would, like, you know, die.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mark comments. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirms. “The allergens are getting to me. My throat is starting to close up. I have to leave now.”

This startles you and Mark, the latter quickly taking the calico cat from your lap and quickly taking it to his room. You reckon the cat’s allergens are all over you so you sit as far away as you can from Donghyuck.

“It’s fine,” he assures, but he already looks like he’s choking. “It’s not that serious. They usually just give me allergic rashes and kind of triggers my asthma. So, we’re good.”

“But you have a dog!” you remark. “You never told me you’re allergic to cats!”

He chuckles, “Well, you learn something every day.”

“There are some anti-histamine tablets from the cupboard,” you point out, still seated where you are. “I probably have allergens on my hands; please go get yourself one.”

Donghyuck does what he’s told, taking one and opening the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. You tell him you’re changing your clothes and ask him to wait up, offering to go out and have a meal with him instead.

Mark knocks on your door a couple of minutes later, finding you dressed up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Donghyuck said he’d wait outside. You look nice.”

“I know I look nice,” you say as you go back to your vanity to throw whatever you’d need for the day in your small dumpling bag, including a box of Benadryl. “You’re not coming with us because you have cat all over you.”

Mark chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Donghyuck literally told me the same thing. He’s growing on you,”

You only hum in response, checking your bag for the last time before walking towards the door where Mark Lee is still leaning on, the same smirk playing on his lips still plastered.

“What?” you ask.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he raises and shows you his right hand, sticking three fingers up.

먹었습니다 (meog-eossseubnida) - The meal was good.

Seoul National University’s library is as quiet as it can be; it’s almost scary how the only sounds you’d only hear are the faint sounds of pages being flipped and pens gliding on notepads, and the eerie echoes of the tension coming from students who are either cramming on an assignment or jumping from one subject to another in hopes of getting everything they read retained in their head.

Donghyuck used to tell you this is the exact reason why he didn’t like working at the library. It’s too quiet but too loud at the same time. You chuckle at the memory of him telling you anecdotes of his short-lived employment in the library and wonder how different it is being the soccer team’s laundry guy. He’s probably pouting all the way from the beginning of his shift until the end.

“Here,” Jung Sungchan disrupts your thoughts, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “I found these, maybe it could help bridge the gap we’re struggling on.”

You and Sungchan are paired up for a two-week long assignment for one of your major subjects. The objective was to present a summarized and substantial report on the welfare state, and you think Sungchan must have tripped on all the bad luck in his life to have been paired up with someone who couldn’t speak Korean that well, because, well, the books they had are mostly in Korean. If speaking and understanding Korean is a struggle for you, reading the damn language is hell.

“This is a good thing,” Sungchan assures. “There are resources online that are mostly in English. We can combine everything we find and construct the report from there!”

You nod and hand over the book you’re reading before he arrived, explaining that you found a chapter that could be very helpful. The boy fires up his laptop and starts accessing the website your professor had recommended you to use.

Sat side by side, you and Sungchan study in silence, except for when he asks you to read an article for him and explain what it means. The session lasts for hours, thank God you and him didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and within those hours of studying with Sungchan, you can’t help but notice the looks you were getting anytime someone passes by the two of you.

It’s no secret that Jung Sungchan is probably one of the most attractive men in the university. He’s tall and has skin that’s as clear as a day in summer, smile that could swoon a lot of people off their feet, broad shoulders that’s probably carrying the entire hockey team for this year’s season—and yes, it doesn’t help the fact that Jung Sungchan is the most popular jock at the moment, apparently for hard carrying the team to win last year’s trophy, ending Seoul National University’s 10-year drought and awakening the school’s love for sports back. And you think it’s quite unfair that people like him exist. Because you would expect that he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about his grades because he’s essentially SNU’s hero at the moment, but he’s not. Jung Sungchan, you learn, takes his degree in Social Sciences very seriously.

And it’s evident with the way his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the tenth book he found from the shelves.

“I think this part makes more sense now,” he points out, leaning closer so he could show you the article he’s reading. “In residual regimes, welfare-seeking units are primarily family and market. On the other hand, in the institutional welfare regime, the function of providing welfare belongs directly to the state.”

“But countries with different social conditions and lifestyles should have differed in terms of welfare states,” you argue. “We have to consider that the development of industrialization and production growth could be very different from one country to another.”

Sungchan hums. “Good point. Perhaps we can find more of that from Wilensky and Lebaux’s work. Do you have the book over there?”

You nod and hand him the book. Just as Sungchan flips the book open, Mark occupies the seat across you.

“We’ve been calling you,” Mark whispers to you, then turning to look at Sungchan. “Hey, man. Mark. Y/N’s best friend.”

Sungchan gives him a polite nod before going back to the book. You raise an eyebrow at Mark and slip your phone from the pocket of your backpack and find all the missed calls from him, Renjun, and Donghyuck.

“My phone’s been on silent for like, I don’t know, four hours,” you tell him, slipping your phone back to your back. “And I texted you I’d be at the library.”

“Yeah, like four hours ago,” he answers. “I didn’t think you’d really stay here for four hours. Anyway—” Mark pulls out a lunch bag and slides it across the table. “Donghyuck made this for you. He figured you’d be hungry.”

It’s only then that it hit you. The last meal you had was that bagel you had for breakfast on the way to school, which you had seven or eight hours ago.

“My sweet Donghyuckie,” you coo, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Mark. Sungchan and I will share because we’ll be here until we finish at least the structure of the report.”

“It’s getting late though,” Mark points out.

Sungchan clears his throat. “I can drive you home.”

“Great!” Mark exclaims, which earns him multiple shushes from the other students studying. “Sorry. Great!” he says again, in a whisper this time.

Mark bids goodbye to you and offers a handshake to Sungchan, telling him he’ll see him often in the next two weeks or for as long as you and him are paired-up on your major subjects. Sungchan gives him one last assurance you’ll be home safe.

You ask Sungchan to take a break and open the lunch bag. Inside it are two bento boxes full of food, too much for one person, and you don’t take another minute to wait. Sungchan must have been hungry too, because he doesn’t refuse when you offer the other half of your meal to him.

You’re not really sure how much longer you and Sungchan stay in the library, but as soon as you’ve finalized the structure of the report and have agreed on assigned topics, he suggests that you and him go home and meet up again on Friday so you can start assembling the presentation. And as promised, Sungchan drives you home, glad when he realized your apartment is only ten minutes away from his.

It’s already ten in the evening when you reach home. Mark’s probably already sleeping, you think when you don’t see any light peaking from smallest of the small space between his door and the floor. It’s late anyway, and you don’t really have much energy to tell him about your day like you always do. In fact, you don’t even have the energy to shower anymore, and because you don’t like sleeping on your bed with your outside clothes, you opt to sleep on the couch tonight.

The last thing you do is shoot Donghyuck a text message: “The meal was good.”

삼각관계 (sam-gak-kwan-gae) – love triangle

Jung Sungchan invites you watch to one of his preliminary games the day after you completed the report with him. Mark teasingly tells you that you have boys wrapped around your finger not even two months living in Seoul. You deny the claims, of course, because Sungchan is nothing but a good friend and you don’t see him as anything more.

Donghyuck is the first person you think of when Sungchan gives you two spare tickets for the game, and you like to think that it’s only because you don’t want Mark teasing you and accusing you of romance all afternoon, and also because Donghyuck has a car and Mark is a shit navigator so you can’t trust him to commute with you from the university to the indoor arena where the game is being held.

SNU’s team wins, of course, and you proudly cheer for Sungchan, which earns you a side eye from Donghyuck. You shrug it off and pretend that you didn’t see.

“Can we go now?” Donghyuck asks, bored, when people start leaving the arena.

You shake your head. “Sungchan asked me to wait for him after the game.”

“You know that barbecue place I told you we’d go to?” Donghyuck reminds. “We can go there—“

Your phone rings. It’s Sungchan. Donghyuck sighs.

“Congratulations, nerd!” is the first thing you tell him. Sungchan thanks you, laughing from the other end of the call, and apologizes that he can no longer meet you because the team’s been hogging him the second they won the round.

“It’s fine,” you assure. “I’m with Donghyuck, anyway. I’ll see you at school?”

“No, no,” Sungchan answers. “There’s a small celebration party at Shotaro’s house. It’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive from your apartment. I’ll send you the location. Go there.”

Sungchan hangs up, and not even a second later, you receive a text from him, a location pinned on the message. You show the message and pout at Donghyuck, and he’s looking at you all bored, rolling his eyes, before nodding and taking your hand so you and him could leave the arena.

The drive to the place takes about an hour from the arena, and you spend it singing along to Michael Jackson’s songs.

“You have a really nice voice,” you comment. Donghyuck laughs.

“Baby,” he says. “I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in music if I had a shitty voice.”

The nickname gives you a flush, and you could only hope Donghyuck wouldn’t notice.

Almost two months into meeting Lee Donghyuck, you find yourself unable to keep your heartbeat down whenever he does things like this—calling you nicknames, randomly showing up in places where you are just to say hi, holding your hand, texting and calling you every day, spending his weekends and times off with you, and doing simple and domestic things for you—and your heart tells you it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a whirlwind romance in Seoul. Donghyuck doesn’t ever hesitate, and the fact that you’re holding back means you really like him. But the rational part of you says it’s not really a good idea to be in a situationship with someone who will most likely forget you as soon as you go back to Canada, and you can’t afford a heartache from miles away. Besides, Donghyuck probably isn’t that serious with whatever that’s going on.

Rumors say (by rumors, you mean Chenle and Jisung) that Donghyuck is the type of guy who dates one girl after another. Because he’s bold and charming and amiable and likes to expand his choices, and he finds that there’s nothing wrong with dating as long as he doesn’t date multiple women at the same time. You haven’t really seen him out on a date since you had met him. Rumor (Chenle) says that he’s been single since fall of last year and had committed to stay single this year because of the messy breakup and also because he’s on his last year of college, he’d need to focus on stepping up his game if he wants entertainment companies to fight over him as soon as he starts looking for agencies after graduation. Another rumor (Jisung) says he’s rejected many women who have tried to sleep with him since news broke that Lee Donghyuck is newly single. The rumor says he’s as popular as Jung Sungchan when it comes to women, which, if you’re being honest, gives you some kind of pedestal to walk hand-in-hand with him in the university grounds. You realize now that you get the same look from women when you’re with Donghyuck like the stares you got whenever you and Sungchan are stuck in the library for hours of studying.

The only difference is that, well, you like that people stare at you with a hint of jealousy whenever you’re with Donghyuck.

“Why haven’t you invited me to your gigs?” you ask before you could even think about it. “Sungchan’s only been friends with me for like three weeks and he already got me tickets to his game. You, on the other hand…”

The car halts to a slow stop, Donghyuck’s phone telling you that you’ve arrived at your location. Donghyuck doesn’t switch off the engine though. He chuckles licking his lips, then poking his tongue on his cheeks, fucking with your heart and hormones in the process. He keeps his hand on the steering wheel and turns to look at you, eyes hazed in attraction like he’s pulling you in.

“Baby,” he says in a whisper almost. “I don’t like love triangles.”

“Love… triangles?” you repeat.

“Love triangles,” he says in English. “I fucking hate it. And we’re not about to go through that trope in our love story here. So, let me make it clear before we go inside and before you even think about sticking to Sungchan all night.”

You gulp.

“There’s no Sungchan in the equation,” he states like a command and you find yourself nodding, agreeing. “It’s only you and me. Tonight, there will be a lot of people and none of them will be in the equation. Tonight, you’re sticking with me and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Have fun with me and see if you want to take this to another level, because if you ask me, I’ve been dying to fucking kiss you since the semester began.”

This territory is new, and this Donghyuck is new, too. He’s always been affectionate and he’s never held back, but this new level of honesty is astonishing. Damn attractive if you’re being honest.

“Come here,” he says, ridding himself from his seatbelt. You do the same, leaning closer to him. Donghyuck holds your cheeks with both hands, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m not giving you mixed signals. This is me giving you a clear, direct sign that I like you and I like what we have, but I’d love to take another step. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want someone to enter the equation while I’m trying to woo you.”

You giggle. “You already successfully wooed the romance out of me the second you started holding my hand, Lee Donghyuck. And no, there won’t be love triangles.”

Donghyuck’s honesty fires up some courage in you, and you like the feeling of watching him falter when you lean in, hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him for the first time. The man melts in your kiss and in your touch, but doesn’t wait for another heartbeat to kiss you back. And despite of the bottled-up and eagerness from both sides, the first kiss is soft the first time, featherlike and sweet. His lips are even softer than they look and his lips already look plump as it is, and when Donghyuck licks your lips and invites himself in, God, he makes sure you taste the sweetness from his mouth and in a minute you’re addicted and you kiss and kiss and kiss, lips locking, tongue gliding, breaths gasping.

It’s him who pulls away, leaving you with dazed eyes wanting, wanting, wanting more.

Donghyuck gives you one last kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go.”

이렇게? (ireoke) – Like this?

You don’t end up seeing Sungchan at all in the party, and you don’t mind because Donghyuck keeps you glued to his side. The party is fun, but you and Donghyuck decide not to drink a single drop of alcohol. To him, it’s because he has to drive. To you, it’s because you want to be entirely sober to remember whatever happens tonight.

Donghyuck makes out with you in the corner of the living room where people are crumpled, and you like that he doesn’t care that people see. He holds you by the waist and on your neck, and you get it now. You get why women are lining up to sleep with Donghyuck, because if he can kiss like this, what else can he do with his mouth?

You shoot a message to Sungchan with a selfie of you and Donghyuck, thanking him for inviting you to the party and telling him you’ll see him on your next class together (Donghyucks suggests you send Sungchan a picture of you and him making out.) and prompt to leave. Donghyuck says goodbye to a few people he knew, holding you by the waist all the way from the house to where his car is parked.

Donghyuck drives you to his apartment and tells you he’s told Mark you’d be sleeping at his place tonight. The drive itself was intense enough and Donghyuck’s doing an amazing job keeping his cool while you’re practically sweating from the passenger’s seat.

You don’t even get a good look at his apartment when you arrive, because Donghyuck’s already kissing you as he rids himself of his jacket. Donghyuck doesn’t kiss you softly this time; he kisses you like he’s leaving a mark on your mouth, almost like he wants to bruise his presence inside you. He helps you get slip out of your jacket, pulling away quickly to kick his shoes off, before carrying you bridal style and bringing you to his room, kicking the door behind.

Despite the roughness of his kisses, he puts you to bed gently, ridding himself of his shirt and kneeling on the floor so he could help you out of your socks. He leans up once he’s done, one hand on your jaw to pull you down for another kiss, the other caressing your thigh.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he whispers. You nod. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes, Donghyuck,” you answer, breathless when he starts kissing your neck. “This is okay. Please touch me.”

Donghyuck pushes you a little so half of your body is lying on his bed, your feet flat on his carpeted floor, tugging the loops of your jeans, urging you to lift your hips so he can rid you out of the material. He pulls you back up to take your shirt off from your torso, then he’s helping you back up from the edge of the bed towards the headboard as he crawls on top of you.

“Donghyuck,” you gasp when he goes back to kissing you. You realize that Donghyuck like kissing with the way he’s using his mouth to imprint his presence in you, his tongue licking everywhere it can reach inside your mouth, and he tastes like mint and the soda he had at the party, and he’s everything that you want. “Touch me, please.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck reaches down to rub your clit through the material of your underwear. He rubs slow, teasingly, and kisses you on the mouth when you groan. He dips his head lower and kisses your neck; he bites and nips and sucks and you’re sure it’s leaving a mark you’d have to conceal the next day. “Want me to touch you like this, baby?”

A moan elicits from your throat, and Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. He slips his warm hand between your skin and your underwear, really touching you, rubbing your clit gently, his digits dragging itself on your slit slowly, gathering your wetness then going back to rub your clit again, more roughly with the pool of wetness his fingers have now.

“Like this?” he asks again, pushing a finger inside when he finds your hole, urging another moan from your lips.

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you gasp when he fingers you gently, your wetness making a sound when he adds another finger. Donghyuck takes his time, biting his lips as he watches you writhe underneath his touch.

“Pull your bra down,” he breathes out, and you do. When your breasts are out on the open, Donghyuck doesn’t waste time and locks lips with your nipple, sucking and licking as he fingers the sanity out of you. He alternates from fingering you with two digits and rubbing you using his thumb, and you’re all putty and messy under him, and you want more, more, more, more.

“Baby, please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Donghyuck. Please fuck me”

Donghyuck hushes you. “I will, baby. I’ll fuck you so well, you’ll come running back to me tomorrow and the day after, and the day after.”

But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out, hold you by your jaw so you could lock eyes while he licks the proof of your attraction to him from his fingers, sucking and showing you just how well he could use his tongue. He doesn’t fuck you get but he rids you of the last garments from your body and does the fucking impossible.

Donghyuck eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He swirls his tongue on your clit as he pushes his digits back in your hole, fingering you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, and he’s got you chanting his name like a prayer when his tongue laps your sex, even more when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You’re writhing and screaming and Donghyuck’s holding your legs apart while he pleasures you with his mouth and hands.

You don’t want to cum yet, but Donghyuck’s so, so good, and it looks like he’s not stopping anytime soon. He tongues you back to your clit and fingers you with three digits, fast and rough.

“Donghyuck, I’m going to—” You see white and stars and you stay still when Donghyuck continues fingering you, moving all three fingers in an upward motion, reaching where you want him the most, mouth sucking your clit as you ride the first orgasm you’ve had in months.

Donghyuck lets you have your moment when it’s done, taking the time to lick the slick wetness from his fingers down to his wrist, kneeling between your legs. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting with your legs wide open, your palms flat on his sheets, head tilted for a kiss. Donghyuck leans over and kisses you again, and you never thought you’d like tasting yourself in his tongue. You guess everything tastes sweeter when it’s in Donghyuck’s mouth.

“Off, please,” you murmur, pulling the loops from his jeans. Donghyuck obeys, removing all pieces of clothing until he’s naked.

You marvel at his beauty, licking your lips when you finally see him bare and clean. His golden skin looks like honey and you want to kiss the fuck out of his collarbones and leave your mark for everyone to see. Your eyes travel from his chest down to the trail from his tummy down to his erect cock. He’s hard and red and you salivate from how big he looks and feel yourself getting even more wet at the thought of him fucking you. Before you know it, you’re reaching out, moving so you could kneel, and taking his hardness in your hand. Donghyuck moans for the first time tonight, and you plan to elicit that sound from him all night.

Stroking him slowly, you feel a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck pants your name. “Oh my God,” he moans when you bend over, a palm flat on his sheets, your other hand stroking him as you take him to your mouth. He gathers your hair and watches you from above, and you purposely stick your ass up higher when you feel him twitch as you take more of his cock into your mouth. When you’re about halfway, you stroke the rest of what you can’t take and start sucking and licking, and Donghyuck makes the absolute best sound ever. You like his voice when he sings, but you don’t think anything could compare with how he’s whining your name as you suck his dick thoroughly, licking and jerking off whatever your mouth couldn’t fit. A part of you wants to ask Donghyuck to fuck your mouth, bruise your throat with his dick and cum straight down your fucking stomach if he wants to, but that could be arranged next time. This time, with his dick hard and wet from your mouth, you want him to fuck you.

You suck him one last time before you pull away, a string of your saliva following when you look up at Donghyuck. “Now, will you fuck me?”

Donghyuck looks fucked out, eyes dazed with lust, and you want nothing more than for him to ruin you. And Donghyuck doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crawls back up until you’re lying on your back, legs wide open for him, and kneels between your legs. “Ready and sure?” he asks for the last time, stroking himself.

“Pull out when you cum,” is all you say and Donghyuck goes for it. He gives you a kiss and rests one of his forearms beside your arm, massaging the head of his cock on your opening until he’s stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans when he feels your tightness. “God damn, Y/N, when was the last time you got fucked?”

“I—I can’t remember,” you say. “None of them were worth remembering.”

“And me?” Donghyuck asks as he pushes deeper until he’s fully stretched you and his pelvis is leaning against your clit. “Will you remember me?”

“Ask me next time,” you breathe out. “I think you’ll have to fuck me every day so I can remember.”

Donghyuck gives you some time, kissing you softly. “When was the last time you fucked anyone?” you ask in return.

“I can’t remember,” he parrots. “None of them were worth remembering. All I know is that this is the first time I’m feeling someone raw.” Then he bottoms out, gives you only half a second before he’s thrusting back and out and back and out and back and out, slowly but surely fucking you well.

Donghyuck fucks you like he means it. His hips snap roughly but makes sure you feel all of him before he thrusts out and he’s everywhere. His tongue is in your mouth, then on your neck, his free hand is caressing one of your breasts, playing with your nipples, and he’s making you feel so, so good and you’re not sure how you go back from here. You’re not sure how you could go on with life knowing how well Donghyuck can fuck you. He’s got you squirming and reaching your second orgasm only minutes into fucking the life out of you.

When you’re close, Donghyuck pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling again, and lifts both your legs, resting your calves on either side of his shoulders, hugging your legs so he can fuck you deeper in this angle. The precision makes you chant his name over and over again and he takes one of his hands down to rub your clit. You try your best to hold back from cumming because the way he’s fucking you now feels so damn good that you want it to last for a long time. He thrusts in and out quickly, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass again and again.

“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Let go.”

So, you do, and Donghyuck keeps on fucking you through it. Donghyuck lets you finish, before he’s pushing the back of your knees down so your thighs are pressed up against your stomach, chasing his own orgasm, and fucks you hard, without rhythm, until he is moaning your name like praise and he’s pulling out so he could release on your stomach. You reach up to caress his cheek as you watch him in awe as he finishes, his face contorted in pleasure, lips wet and eyes closed.

When it’s done, Donghyuck kisses you on the forehead and helps you clean up. He leaves to go to the bathroom for a minute to grab a warm, wet towel, cleaning your stomach, and carries you back to the bathroom with him. The shower is warm, and Donghyuck is gentle and sweet when he cleans you up, giving you kisses when he pats you dry once he’s gotten rid of the shampoo and body wash from your hair and skin. Donghyuck tells you there’s a spare toothbrush on behind the mirror and washes himself as you brush your teeth, naked but warm.

Donghyuck tells you to that the right side of his closet is where you can find the clothes he uses at home and you follow as he finishes cleaning himself up. You take the liberty to take one of his shirts that are still too big for you despite Donghyuck’s frame and slip a pair of cotton shorts.

Donghyuck finds you half-asleep when he’s done showering; he sleeps shirtless, you reckon, because he crawls to bed only in sweatpants. He cuddles you from behind, kissing the clothed shoulder, and the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is him humming a song your mind can’t recognize and a promise that you’ll talk about this the next day.

You wake up to the smell of Spam, an empty space beside yours, and the sound of Donghyuck singing a song from BOL4, which you learned is one of his favorite musicians.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you when you find him in the kitchen, just about to finish pan-frying the last piece of sliced luncheon meat. He’s still shirtless, but is wearing a cute pink apron, and he gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. The second his lips pull away from yours, you reach up and touch where he kissed, lips tingling—in disbelief that what happened last night is real.

“Good morning,” he hums. “Just in time for breakfast.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “Can we talk first?”

Donghyuck nods, offering that you sit on the high stool across the small kitchen island. He sits next to you, turning the seat so that you’re face to face, knees touching. “What do we want to do?” he asks.

“You know I’m leaving in like, four months, right?” you start.

Donghyuck whistles. “We just started and you’re already breaking up with me?”

“No, no,” you say, exhaling. “This… this. I like. You. I like.”

“Baby, construct your sentences properly,” he laughs.

“I like you,” you confess. “And I like this. I like holding your hands. And kissing you. And what we did last night. I’m just worried because—”

“Because you’re leaving,” he finishes for you. “I know, but I also like you a lot. More than you probably think. And I don’t want to miss my chance getting to know you more just because you’re leaving in a few months. I don’t know what you want, but here’s what I want, you let me know if it works for you, if not, then I’ll still be a friend. Who might cry for two weeks straight if you reject me.”

You laugh but urge him to continue.

“I want to date you, and get to know you even more. Your quirks, the things that make you angry, your comfort food, the movies that give you the ick,” he continues. “Your family, how you were raised, if you like Marvel or DC more, what Hogwarts house you belong to, if you like pineapple in pizza or not, whether you pour milk or cereal first, if you ever kissed Mark Lee, if Mark Lee’s ever had a crush on you.”

“What does Mark have—”

“Shh,” he stops. “It’s my turn. Talk later. Anyway, I want this—” he gestures the space between you and him. “And I want you. I want to keep teaching you the language and I know what’s ahead of us is scary, and there’s only two things that could happen: this is going to be either the biggest heartbreak of my life or you’re going to be the greatest love of my life. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, Y/N. Let’s just say I’m willing to risk whatever if it means I have 50% the chances of having you as the greatest love of my life.”

Oh. You don’t realize you’re staring quietly until Donghyuck holds your hand.

“Now tell me,” he asks slowly. “What do you want?”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Lee Donghyuck.”

일어날 수 있는 최악의 상황은 무엇입니까? il-eonal su issneun choeag-ui sanghwang-eun mueos-ibnikka? What’s the worst that could happen?

It doesn’t come out as a surprise to anyone when you and Donghyuck arrive at Arcade holding hands, a shy smile playing on your lips, a proud one in Donghyuck’s. You were thankful that there were no teasing remarks coming from your friends—that they were taking this so well, like it’s normal. Like it’s meant to happen anyway. There’s a knowing smirk on Mark’s stupid face, but you love him and you can’t wait to tell him all about how you feel towards Donghyuck. “Okay, so my birthday falls on a weekend,” Jeno announces. “And I think it’s the best time to go to the amusement park. Will you have work then, Renjun-ah?”

“Most likely,” Renjun answers, mouth full of food as he chews on a bite of pizza. “But I can have Yerim cover for me. I’ll just return the favor if she needs me one day.”

“Sweet!” Jeno exclaims. “So, it’s decided then. We’ll go to the amusement park on my birthday.”

As you and Donghyuck play footsie under the table, Mark stands, turning to you. “I’m going to get another milkshake. Come with me?”

You nod, kicking Donghyuck one last time and standing to follow your best friend. Somehow, you feel bad for not saying anything about your growing feelings for Donghyuck, considering that Mark is your best friend in the entire universe and you’re his. If it were him, he would’ve told you the second he caught feelings to anyone. But Mark knows you’re not the kind to admit feelings like this as soon as it starts inflating in your chest; he knows you’re the type to hold it in until you can’t anymore. Having had terrible relationships in the past, Mark has always known that you’re the kind to be careful.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Mark says as soon as you and him are out of earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you. I just didn’t expect this to happen so quickly.”

“Me neither,” you mumble under your breath. “Sorry for not saying anything.”

Mark chuckles. “You didn’t have to. I mean, we all kinda always known this would happen. I just couldn’t imagine how you and Donghyuck sealed it so quickly, like considering how shy and quiet you always were whenever he was around.”

“I was shy and quiet with everyone around,” you remark. “Donghyuck taught me all these slangs and now I can’t stop talking.”

The woman in the counter asks you what she can help you with when you reach her. Mark tells his order alongside some sides Renjun had asked him to get. He leans on the counter, turning back to you. “Anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re serious serious.” Mark clears his throat. “Like, I’ve known you for so long and you’ve always been hesitant to do shit. I’ve always been the spontaneous and reckless one between us, and you’re the careful one. The one who thinks everything through before deciding on it—this trip to Seoul included on the long list.”

“Your point is?” you ask, even though you know exactly where this is going.

Mark licks his lips before continuing: “What I’m saying is, you’ve never been this certain so quickly.”

That’s right. Not to be cliché or whatever, but this is normally how it goes for you. Relationships used to be difficult for you—from the pining to the confession to its climax to its end, until the bargaining and acceptance—and you’d never been the type to go through things so quickly and easily. With Donghyuck, you’d somehow done it backwards (and Mark doesn’t need to know that you slept with Donghyuck before you even sealed the damn relationship) but for some reason, you had forgotten how you’re supposed to act around people you like romantically. It scares the shit out of you, the connection between you and Donghyuck, but you’ve always been a firm believer that if it doesn’t scare you, it probably isn’t something worth doing. It feels like jumping from a cliff, to the bottom of the unknown, and it’s new, but it makes your heart pound like never before.

“I don’t want to get ahead and say something that’d make you change your mind somehow, because I also like you and Donghyuck together,” he explains when you only stare at him. “But, as your best friend, with the best intentions only, please don’t go breaking your heart before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, understanding and appreciating Mark’s sentiment. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mark shrugs. “We won’t really know. Take care, yeah?”

You smile stepping closer to hug Mark. “I love you, you know that, right?” he asks. You nod, your face buried on his chest. “Good. I’ll beat Donghyuck’s ass if he hurts you in anyway.”

“I sure hope you do,” you reply, just in time for the staff to call Mark’s attention, the tray of his order ready for him.

Donghyuck is pouting when you return, asking why you and Mark took too long because the seat beside him is all cold now. You kiss him on the cheek and tell him Mark just told you he’s beating his ass if you’re hurt in anyway.

“Mark can’t hurt a fly,” Donghyuck remarks. “What makes you think he can hurt me, huh?”

Mark scoffs. “You’ll be the first.”

계절과 계절 사이 (gyejeolgwa gyejeol sai) – between seasons

When the seasons start to change—from the rainy, cold spring transition to a warm, sunny summer—you and Donghyuck change, too.

From the euphoric blooming of your relationship—the playful dates, the passionate moments in his bedroom (because ever since Mark adopted that cat, Donghyuck could never stay at your place for longer than an hour), the heart-warming feeling of seeing him waiting for your after your class—to the warm, comfortable attachment stage, you feel like you know Donghyuck in a deeper sense now.

The small notebook he’d given you at the beginning of the term is halfway full, its pages messily scribbled with phrase and sentences you had learned—likewise the memories those words carry—and soon enough you find yourself more comfortable with the language, and eventually with Seoul. You find yourself enjoying, and not in a way that makes you think you’d want to visit again soon.

The journey with Seoul was initially a play to learn the language and its beautiful culture: a detour. A diversion from your plans. A stop while you figure out what you want in life. Your last year in university is supposed to be the year you finally decide what to do next. Visiting Seoul was an opportunity for you to really get to know yourself beyond your comfort zone, to really challenge your capabilities, to learn beyond what your hometown had in store for you.

But these days do not feel like Seoul is a place to visit.

In a way, liberating albeit frightening, you find yourself thinking that perhaps Seoul is a place to build a home in. The home is built from arms that hold you on days when it’s extra cold, your nose red and hands frozen, and its shelter is made from Donghyuck’s warm smile and the assurance of him being there for you. And right now, while you sit closely together at the back of your friend’s car, their obnoxiously loud voices singing to some pop song along the radio, you feel it: home.

Jeno likes the phone case you had customized for him, and he gives you a big, bear hug as soon as he take a peek of what’s inside your present.

“I love you. I literally love you with all my being,” he dramatically says as he squishes you.

“That’s my girlfriend, you idiot,” Donghyuck complains, pulling Jeno’s arms away from you. With the way you three are seated at the back of Renjun’s car, you sitting in between them, it’s uncomfortable and Donghyuck insists on taking part of the little moment you’re having with Jeno.

Jeno whines, “Let me love her. This is the best gift ever!”

Donghyuck ends up puffing air out of his mouth, pouting and leaning back so Jeno could hug you. You’re laughing and Jeno whispers how easily they could make him sulk these days because you’re around.

Mark, who’s sitting on the passenger seat beside Renjun, announces you’ve arrived at the amusement park, just as Jaemin’s car halts to a slow stop behind you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever visited the famous amusement park in Seoul, and Mark looks excited with the way he’s jumping as you line up for the tickets. Donghyuck has his arm around you, taking pictures with his other hand. The rest are chattering, talking about the rides they’d love to try.

The secretly group decides to stick together for the entire day to celebrate Jeno’s day, despite the birthday boy himself telling everyone they can go wherever they want to. You could see how much they really care about one another and they all just hide it in their mean, vile jokes. For example, the man who has his arm wrapped around you likes teasing Jeno like it’s his full-time job, but is hiding a birthday present inside the trunk of Renjun’s car (and would most likely give it before you all head home, act like his best friend’s birthday isn’t that much of a big deal).

Most of the day is spent following Jeno around, whatever ride he wanted to try and your ears ringing because of how loud Donghyuck is screaming. The temperature has gone from freezing cold to warm, the humidity making it a little harder for everybody to move around under the warmth of the sun.

“I never realized how much of a scaredy cat you are, Donghyuckie,” you tease as soon as you walk out of the roller coaster ride. “Not much of a tough guy now, huh?”

Donghyuck whines, “I liked you better when the words you spoke were only yes and no.”

Mark laughs, slapping Donghyuck on the back. “Oh man, that was really good.”

“Yeah?” You rebut. “And I liked you better when you weren’t screaming like a kid.”

Donghyuck smirks, “And I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

Renjun and Jisung cough in disgust, and Mark just straight up slapped the back of Donghyuck’s head. “You two are disgusting. I can’t believe I live with you, Y/N.”

Donghyuck laughs, turning to you. “It’s pretty hot. Want me to go grab you a can of soda? Ice cold water?”

“Water, please,” you say. Donghyuck nods and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling Chenle with him and walking to the opposite side where a small shop is. In the meantime, the rest of you occupy the benches under a shade, Jeno asking which ride to go next.

Donghyuck and Chenle return in a matter of time, bottles of drinks in their hands. They give everyone their preferred drinks, Donghyuck sitting beside Mark and extending an arm so he could hand you your drink from his side.

“Fucking summer,” Donghyuck curses. “I hate summer.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“It’s not even summer yet,” Jaemin points out. “What happened to you? You’ve always been so excited about summer.”

“It’s so hot. I can’t stand this fucking temperature,” Donghyuck mumbles.

Renjun scoffs. “You start planning our summer getaway as early as March.”

“It’s already April and you have nothing yet,” Jisung points out.

“Yeah, what the hell, man. I hate your ridiculous ideas, but we can’t survive summer without you,” Jeno adds, then looks at Mark. “Yo, Mark, what about you? What are you doing this summer?”

You and Mark freeze, looking at each other for a second, before the latter speaks for you both: “We’re, uh, we’re supposed to go home.”

It seems like Jeno didn’t know the weight of his question because he apologizes as soon as he realizes it. The group falls into silence, no one says anything, or perhaps nobody could think of anything to say, not even you or Mark.

With your days in Seoul numbered, you realize now that you haven’t really talked about it—not you and Mark, not you and Donghyuck—and it never really felt real. You had always told yourself you’ll cross the bridge when you get there, and the bridge is nearby.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “The sun’s going to kill me. I think I saw a burger joint that has an air-conditioning system down the corner of that street. Shall we go there?”

Everybody agrees and stand to leave. Donghyuck holds your hand, pulling you close and steals a kiss on your cheek. The gesture makes your heart flutter. Donghyuck is warm, but not in the way the sun is hot right now—in a way that gets you thinking: can this warmth reach Vancouver?

Your skin hurts when the sunlight hits you. You hate summer.

 오해 하지마 (ohae hajima) – Don’t misunderstand

Donghyuck had a face that looked like what an artist would draw in a whim—spontaneously—like it was done in a rush, like a portrait from a park done by a street artist, something done with a pencil. Ink stains are harder to wash off, and anyway, figments aren’t mean to last—and he’s almost unrecognizable in this light.

You can’t recognize him on the night of his birthday.

His Mother had gone above and beyond and invited all of their closest relatives and family friends for his 23rd birthday, and it’s also your first time meeting them.

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least, but his Mother smiles at you kindly when she greets you from the entrance of the restaurant they rented for the evening. You could tell his family was wealthy, and it makes sense because Donghyuck got the most bare minimum job he could find, and it’s most likely because he doesn’t need to get one; he probably only got one so he could talk about work, too, just like the rest of his friends.

The birthday party is a surprise and it was Renjun who connected with everyone to make sure they attend here tonight. You had to make up some excuse to Donghyuck when he asked why you can’t join him for dinner with his family tonight and had promised to make it up to him the day after.

You’re sat in the same table as Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, a bit far away from Donghyuck’s family’s table, as you wait for the birthday boy, your present sitting on top of the round table. Mark talks about his cat, letting Jaemin watch snippets of his pet from his phone, and Renjun is narrating a story about his “ridiculous and absurd encounter with Liu Yangyang (and you and Jeno can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about it).

Then, someone comes sit beside Jaemin, the boys gasping when they see her.

Karina is beautiful, and even saying that isn’t enough to describe the woman’s beauty. Soft-spoken and brilliant, Karina naturally allows everyone to gravitate towards her. All, including yourself, are pulled like magnet when she arrived. Jeno introduces you and you allow yourself to throw a quick and inaudible “hello” when she reaches over and asks you how you are.

Donghyuck’s Mother almost screams when she sees Karina, excitement filling up the air as she hugs her and thanks her for attending.

“I wouldn’t miss Hyuckie’s birthday for the world, eommoni,” Karina answers, and before you could ask Renjun how she’s related to Donghyuck, Jisung, who’s seated in another table with Donghyuck’s younger siblings, announces that the birthday man himself has arrived.

Donghyuck enters the hall, surprised and happy when he sees everyone, a dramatic cry leaving his lips as everyone greets him happy birthday. He feigns complaint, whining that he’s no longer eight years old, but hugs his parents anyway.

His parents thank everyone for joining a precious day and celebrating their eldest son’s birthday with them. Donghyuck bows and starts to go around to thank people.

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he finally reaches your table and he gives you small smile, hugging you quickly before moving on to the next person. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he goes to Karina, lifting her as he hugs her tightly, and thanking her for being able to come. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when his Mother joins the little reunion and he laughs when his Mother jokes about them missing each other too much.

“She’s the one who left me all alone here in Seoul,” Donghyuck pouts. “We wouldn’t have missed each other this much if you had stayed!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Hyuckie,” Karina says, rolling her eyes. “You visited me in Tokyo literally six months ago.”

Six months ago, which means, it was right before you arrived in Seoul.

You want to be anywhere else but here, and you don’t want to listen any further, but the scenario runs like a comedy show and the punch line is you.

“You two better decide whatever the hell you want to do with your lives by the end of the year,” Donghyuck’s Mother comments. “I mean, no one’s stopping you from moving to Tokyo, Donghyuck. You and Karina can rekindle whatever light was burnt last year. I’m glad you stayed best of friends despite the long distance. You’ve always made a great couple.”

Your breath hitches like your lungs had just been punch. Donghyuck, it seems, finally remembers you’re watching this unfold. Mark holds you, and bless him because your legs feel like they’re about to give up. You and Donghyuck make eye contact, but you don’t recognize him at all.

“Eomma,” Donghyuck clears his throat. Everything else he’s said come out like a blur, and Mark is just holding you close.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Renjun whispers closely. “They’re just friends.”

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he watches you leave.

천천히 말씀해 주세요 (chun-chun-hee mal-sseum-heh ju-seh-yo)  - Please speak slowly | 집 (jib) - home

Karina turns out to be the one that got away. The one true love. The greatest love. The childhood best friend who’s always been there. The leading woman. She turns out to be the protagonist in Donghyuck’s story.

You learn all of these from Renjun. Even when he refused to say a single word and had begged for you to talk to Donghyuck instead, you learn the truth by asking Mark to ask Renjun.

Donghyuck and Karina. Karina and Donghyuck. Two peas in a pod. A tight knit. Knowing each other like the back of their hands. A buy one, get one kind of deal. Where one is, the other would follow. And everyone and their moms know that it has always been like that, will always be like that.

Donghyuck and Karina, born on the same year, grew up in the same small village in Jeju island. Having been inseparable since, they ended up moving to Seoul together in high school. Donghyuck’s parents were supportive of Donghyuck pursuing a career in music, and they believed that moving to Seoul was the first step for their beloved son to find his spotlight. Karina’s parents, however, couldn’t afford moving alongside the Lee family despite wanting to support their daughter, too. Donghyuck begged his parents to have Karina move in with them so her parents would only worry about paying her tuition and allowances. The Lee family agreed, of course, because Donghyuck and Karina were fifteen, and they were the best team the world has ever known.

Karina is a talented dancer, and with a face like hers, it would be a shame to keep her in a small town in Jeju island. Her moving to Seoul had been the first step to her early success, because as soon as she reached puberty and had gained a butt and a pair of breasts, agencies were scouting her, creepily waiting for her outside of hers and Donghyuck’s high school. She’d declined, of course, with a promise to Donghyuck that they’d go to stardom together, but Donghyuck wanted to study and make music, and he felt as though he needed to go to college for that.

Karina eventually moved to another dormitory when she started training. Donghyuck moved downtown to start college. They were in different places, but they were still inseparable.

Pretty much every day Donghyuck would meet up with Karina when she started training; if not, then he’d be on Facetime with her during the hours when she’s not working. He had brought her to SNU many times, and they had started dating by the time Donghyuck is in his second year. All the other guys know Karina and her place in Donghyuck’s life. Somehow, a bitter part of you feels betrayed that none of them ever mentioned about Donghyuck’s great love, but you can’t really blame them for not saying anything.

They broke up on the latter months of last year because Karina had to move to Tokyo. There was no big fight apparently, just the decision that it’s most likely not going to work because—listen to this; this is the biggest punch line of this comedy show—Donghyuck can’t handle long distance.

You had answered one of Donghyuck’s calls by mistake. He’s mad for some reason, perhaps angry of the fact that you’re ignoring him and he doesn’t have much control like he normally does.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, why haven’t you answered?” he had cried out as soon as you answered.

“I was busy,” was all you could come up with. You brain had not been working good enough to translate things to Korean.

“What do you mean you were busy?” he had asked, voice loud and angry. “You literally disappeared on me! On my fucking birthday! And I’m done playing nice and cool because this is unfair. Whatever the fuck you’re doing is unfair you’re not letting me in. If you could just let me explain, things—”

“Please speak slowly.”

“—would be easier for the two of us. Whatever Karina and I had, it’s been over since last year. It’s over way before I met you. I never thought of her, not even for a goddamn second since we got together. I wouldn’t fucking betray you like that—”

“I can’t understand you.”

“—and I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to let me at least tell you what happened! I never mentioned her because I never even thought about her! My Mother doesn’t know anything! I’ve wanted you to meet my Mother for a long time, but given our situation, a fucking time bomb ticking, I didn’t know if it was too early to go to that stage.”

“Time bomb?” you had asked, repeating the syllables slowly. “What’s that?”

Donghyuck sighed on the other line. “The thing that explodes at a predetermined time.”

“Oh, a time bomb,” you asked in English, chuckling. “That, we are.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you said, again in English, because if Donghyuck could keep talking in his mother tongue without considering if you’d understand a single word, so could you. “We’re ticking and we’re just waiting for this shit to explode. And I can’t wait and watch myself burn, Donghyuck. I can’t.”

“Please speak slowly,” he pleaded in Korean. You don’t.

“This isn’t going to work,” you responded, still in your mother tongue. “Maybe this is a clear sign for us, Donghyuck. Goodbye.”

Mark finds you crying on floor of your living, your back leaning on the feet of the couch, two weeks after Donghyuck’s birthday.

The first week, you had convinced your friends you were fine and that you just needed time. Donghyuck’s been reaching out to everybody, and Mark, being the best friend he is, lies regarding your whereabouts every time Donghyuck visits.

You don’t know how many calls Donghyuck had tried to make and how many text messages he’d left because you had completely abandoned your phone for the last couple of weeks and only relied on your computer to check any e-mails from your professors.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and you feel a rush of relief when he talks to you in English. You’ve had enough of Korean and Korean men these days. “It sucks, man. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking disappointed with Donghyuck.”

“Shouldn’t you be more disappointed with me?” you sniffle. “I should have listened to you. We were moving too fast.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling you closer so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “I couldn’t blame you. Donghyuck’s charming, and I genuinely thought he was in love with you. I mean, I could say is, because I really think he’s sorry about everything.”

“We didn’t even get to properly break up,” you cry. “Our flight back home is in like, two weeks. I was supposed to talk to him and decide what we’d do with our relationship. For his birthday, I made a stupid mixtape that he could keep in his car and a very expensive and fucking cheesy set of touch lamps I found online for whenever he would miss me. And I keep making stupid letters like a fucking idiot so I could leave him with a bunch of poorly constructed letters just so he knows how much I’ll fucking miss him.”

Mark stays silent as you sob your heart out.

“And can you believe I actually thought it’d work?” you say, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry to myself. I’m just glad it’s over before I did shit I’d regret later on.””

“Shit like?” Mark asks.

You sigh, sniffling and screaming internally because the tears would stop. “I was already looking into internships here. For my last semester in college. I had already decided to decline the internship they were offering back home—thank God I haven’t sent that e-mail from my drafts—and I’ve found really good companies here. And if I’m lucky, I was thinking of moving here after college.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “All because of Donghyuck?”

“Because he feels like home, Mark,” you reason out. “He’s warm, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this now, but I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“And we would have been happy. I would’ve done everything I could,” you confess. “And this fucking language barrier will be the death of me, but I would’ve learned more. I’d be an expert by the end of the year. And now, this whole Karina thing made me realize how much more I need to know about him.”

Mark holds you closer as though holding you would make things better. “When we were kids,” he starts. “Whenever I told you stories about how much I miss all the people I had to leave behind whenever we had to move from one country to another, one state to another, you’d always tell me to never build houses out of people.”

You remember. You always admired how Mark could move from one place to another, his suitcase and the ghost of the friendships he made following his trail, and he’s always told you about the loneliness it comes with.

“You used to tell me shelters aren’t supposed to be made of arms wrapped around you on a cold night, or hands that hold you when you’re feeling lonely,” he continues. “And I can’t blame you, because humans are known not to follow their own advice. But I hope you find home in things you’d never lose.”

You nod. “I’m sorry for breaking rule number three.”

“You’ll get over him,” he assures. “If you decide to really end things here, I mean. I’m sure you can get over him. It’s easier to get over people when you don’t see him.”

You nod, “Let’s go home, Mark.”

“Back home?”

You smile. “Yes. Back home.”

갈망 (galmang) - longing

It’s Giselle who picks you up from the airport.

You reunite like old friends, but Giselle really didn’t change that much. Even the weather didn’t change much. The same old. You wish you could say the same to yourself.

The flight to Vancouver was the most painful ten hours of your life, both literally and figuratively. It was hard watching your friends bid you goodbye, and you could tell they were dreading your departure as much as you and Mark were. Mark assures them you and him would save up to visit them again this year and as much as you’d wanted to stay, your student visa would allow you only six months. Mark promises he’d work on a tourist visa or whatever because despite being 100% ethnically Korean, but legally, he can’t just visit whenever he wants.

The pain from your breakup with Donghyuck is nothing compared to seeing Mark leave his friends again. You know how much they mean to him, and by extension, how much they mean to you regardless of what happened before your departure.

The head of student exchange program sends you warm greetings through text, followed by a series of messages from your friends and family. You’re glad Giselle had decided to pick you up from the airport, because you don’t think you’re in a good state to pretend like you’re okay, and Giselle knows.

Of course, she knows.

Giselle’s been your anchor during your last weeks in Seoul. Mark reckons that if anyone would understand you best during this time, it would be Giselle. After all, she’d gone through the same thing.

Like Mark, Giselle moved to Seoul with her parents for a few years. She had a similar experience with Mark, considering that her parents are constantly moving around—from Japan to South Korea then to Vancouver. Giselle was only in Seoul for two years before her parents moved back to Vancouver again, and in between those years she had met Kevin Moon, the love of her life.

They have been dating for almost four years now, two of those years, they dated long distance.

“How’d you make it work?” you had asked Giselle over Facetime once.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she admitted. “We broke up a couple of time because it was really difficult. And neither of us were willing to move for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kevin and I, we love each other. Truly we do. But I wouldn’t want to plant my entire life in Seoul for him. In the same manner, I don’t want him to move from Seoul to Vancouver for me when we both know for a fact that he’d be more successful in Korea than here. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t have an advice I could give you.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” you denied. “I mean. Donghyuck and I have only been dating for like, two weeks. I wouldn’t think that far at this time.”

Giselle had laughed at the other end of the line. “Let me tell you one thing, though.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s all a matter of choice,” she had said slowly, like she wanted to imprint the words to your brain. “Your heart isn’t made of diamonds. Your lungs aren’t made of steel. Somehow, inevitably, you’d grow tired—tired of timezones and how you never get the timing right, tired of not having someone to hug when you need it, tired of having to compromise—and it’s not an easy game.”

Giselle was smiling when she’d said the rest: “But Kevin is so worth it. I’ll grow tired of the baggage long distance comes with, but I don’t think I could live without him, you know? And it’s exaggerated, I know, and neither of us know what the future holds, but we’re choosing us. We chose to stay.”

It would have been beautiful, you think, if things worked out between you and Donghyuck. You would have written poems and prose in places about how you chose to stay. You would have learned about time zones and the best time to call, could have learned how to purchase the cheapest flight tickets to see each other, would have learned love and compromise together.

But you’re here, back in Vancouver, the voices of Mark and Giselle all blurred out from the backseat, and all you could think of is how much you miss Donghyuck.

예기치 않은 (yegichi anh-eun) - unexpected

The head of the student exchange program asks you to write an article about your experience in Seoul and gives you until the fall semester begins, just in time for the university’s own publishing house to produce this year’s school paper. You’re stuck at two hundred words and a stupid title Mark came up with: “Learning Languages”—and you’re thinking about withdrawing from that spot in the newspaper but Mark keeps calling you a heartbroken loser and you’re not about to let Mark Lee get the last word.

You’re eating cereal and watching an episode of Suits to prepare to write again (yes, a 30-minute preparation time is needed for such task) when someone knocks at your door.

You know how, in movies, the main character would see things in slow motion as soon as the love of their life enters the scene? That’s exactly what happens when you open the door and find Lee Donghyuck standing outside your dorm room, a too-large for his body backpack on one shoulder and his heart upon his sleeve.

미안해 (mianhae) – I’m sorry | 사랑해 (saranghae) – I love you

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that Lee Donghyuck comes up with, and truthfully are the words you needed to hear from him. He says it in his mother tongue and you feel his heart in his voice.

“Mark?” you ask, knowing full well it’s Mark who helped him.

“Yes but no,” he answers. “He said he’d only give me your address but he’s not picking me up or helping me. My flight landed literally six hours ago and I’ve been looking for you since.”

Donghyuck sits across you on the small table you own inside your small room. His backpack is sitting on his feet and his shoulders are slumped. Donghyuck allows himself to look small compared to all the times you were with him.

“Y-you look good,” he comments, eyes glued on you. “I’m glad you’re healthy, at least.”

“You, too,” you mumble. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be fine, please and thank you.” You reach over to hand him a bottle. “And who are you kidding? I look awful.”

He does. He looks exactly what he said he had done to get here. Look for you for six hours after a ten-hour flight from Incheon. Donghyuck downs the bottle of water. Poor guy probably hasn’t eaten.

“Why are you here, Donghyuck?” you ask as soon as he’s done drinking.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I don’t really know what I want out of this trip.”

You keep your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I’m not about to beg you to take me back,” he continues. “I just wanted to explain. I just want you to know what happened. I can live without you, but I can’t live with you thinking I had betrayed you.”

“Donghyuck, there’s really no need to explain. Renjun has told Mark all I needed to know.”

“No, let me say it please. I spent a fortune to come here, and I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I’d do. After this, I’ll leave. I have a ticket back home tomorrow, and I’ll leave.”

Ridiculous. Who would spend a fortune on a set of roundtrip tickets only to leave a day after? Of course, only Lee Donghyuck.

“Karina and I go way back,” he says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And she’s not someone I could just get rid of just because our relationship didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends, and that’s a fact we had come to learn when we tried dating. And it was painful, but I couldn’t lose her just because we didn’t know how to date, how to play boyfriend and girlfriend to each other. That’s the first thing I need you to understand.”

“Like I don’t know that already?” you remark sarcastically.

“Karina is a part of me.” Shit’s painful.

“But now like how you are a part of me.”

Oh.

“She’s my best friend, almost like a sister now, and my parents care about her,” he continues. “It was a mistake that we even tried to date just so we could relate to everyone dating everybody. It almost ruined us, and Karina and I, we can’t afford to lose each other just because of that. The person who I am now, part of it is because of Karina. But Y/N, the person I’m about to become, I want it to be because of you.”

He clears his throat again. You look at the bottle of water he finished drinking because you really can’t look at Donghyuck now. Not when he’s vulnerable and out in the open. Not when he’s exactly the way he was when you fell in love with him.

“And I had plans. For the long run,” he says like a promise. “I had started looking up how to get a tourist visa to Canada and how to get you a tourist visa to Korea. I’ve been saving all my allowances and the money I’ve been earning from work so I could book a ticket to Vancouver for the summer and spend it with you. And I was supposed to tell Mom, but I haven’t had the chance yet—that one I have no excuse for. But the timing was off and she met you before I could tell her. She had no idea and she’s genuinely sorry she made it seem like she wanted me to end up with Karina. If she had known I was already in love with someone else, she wouldn’t have said that in front of you. She would have loved you.”

Donghyuck pauses. You look up to see him wiping his tears from his cheeks. “And I’m sorry that the timing didn’t go well for us, but I promise you I had plans. I just didn’t want to spend the rest of your weeks in Seoul thinking about you being gone as soon as the semester is over. I wanted to seize the moments with you and make you—I wanted to make you feel that I love you.”

Your breath hitches. Donghyuck locks eyes with you.

“I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he confesses, bursting into tears and you do, too. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to make you stay. I’m so sorry that I talked to fast that time I finally got you to answer my call; I should’ve explained more calmly. I’m so sorry that we’re here, in Vancouver, hearts broken. But I love you, and I wish I could say all of these in English if that’s what would make you believe it’s real and it’s true.”

But he doesn’t have to.

“I love you,” you say in your mother tongue before switching to Korean. “I love you. And I know you love me. And I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions and not trying hard enough. Just like you, I had plans to. For the long run. And I can live without you, too, but I can’t live without you knowing how much I love you.”

Donghyuck giggles through his tears and reaches out both hands to wipe off yours. “Let’s not live without each other.”

It’s him to moves, standing a little, so he could kiss you.

The kiss says everything the language barrier can’t. I love you. I missed you. I’m sorry. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.

Donghyuck spends the night tracing your body with his mouth like he’s writing a love song and he needs to taste you first before he could write the first melody. You spend the night underneath Donghyuck’s love, whispering his name like praise, taking, taking, taking everything he’s giving you.

You wake up to arms around you and the love of your life kissing the back of your neck. You and him spend the entire day (or at least, the seven hours he had until he had to take the flight back home) talking about your plans and making a list of thing you have to talk about over the phone, but today, you’re taking him out on a date under the warm, sunny skies of Vancouver.

And you do. You and Donghyuck have the best day ever together. Donghyuck gives you the other pair of the touch lamp you’d given to him as a birthday present—you’d forgotten you left it when you ran off; you were supposed to watch him open it so you could show him how it works—and makes you promise to touch the lamp whenever you missed him. He thanks you for the mixtape and confesses he cries whenever he plays it inside his car. He also gives you your small notebook of learning languages back (because you had dramatically left it to Renjun before you boarded the plane), saying you’d need it again.

Mark refused to come because he wants you and Donghyuck to talk and spend the day creating a game plan to make your relationship work. At the end of the hours you had with him, you don’t come up with a solid game plan.

Because Giselle was right, after all, it all comes down to the choices you make. There was no formula on how a long-distance relationship would work. Neither you nor Donghyuck had survived one, but you knew one thing:

Today, you and Donghyuck choose each other.

It’s only the beginning, it seems.

The sun is out and bright when Donghyuck boards the plane.

It’s a lot warmer than the rest of the year, but you don’t really mind.

[sunboki]

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

.

.

.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

Valentine's Day

Tags : smut with slight plot, f!reader, non-con?, freaky satoru, reader is in a relationship with a non-sorcerer, basically has cheating implied but it's not cheating (I'm gonna defend reader with my life on this), unprotected sex (I cannot stress this enough but do not attempt, use protection), characters are in their mid 20's, lil' angst (if you squint), Non-con (nvm it's con, I change my mind), stomach bulge (it's subtle), plot twist in the end.

Minors please. You know the drill, out 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️👈🏼

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Gojo regrets his offer on lending an ear to you, tired of listening to every whine and complaints you make against your non-sorcerer boyfriend that you've been dating for 5 months; he really should've joined Suguru on his mission to eradicate all non-sorcerers, at least he'd have you all to himself then.

But what he regrets most is the fact that he didn't ask you out earlier than your current boyfriend, missing the chance to be called yours, instead that rat-faced guy- that can't treat you right- now has the label of being yours. But now you're telling Gojo that you suspect your boyfriend's cheating on you? He couldn't be more delighted listening to that. Maybe he doesn't really regret on his offer afterall.

"And guess what Satoru! I called him last night and I swear on my life that I heard a woman's voice on the line calling him back to bed before he cut the call on me!" You throw your arms up frustratedly, inches away from smacking Satoru's face as you plop down on the couch with a dejected sigh and a small frown, missing the glint in his eyes; you'd have missed the sight either way since he wears a blindfold.

"Why are you even with him then?"

Another heavy sigh from you makes Satoru sigh too, why couldn't you just break up with your current boyfriend and get with him instead? Satoru is way better in everything and did he mention that he's way better in everything? Yes, he did. What else do you want from him at this point? "You don't understand, I love him," you mumble, fiddling with your hands as you stare at the ceiling longingly. Unbeknownst to you Satoru did understand afterall he holds the same feelings you do; seething with jealousy again, he silently curses the very three words that poured out of your mouth that wasn't aimed towards him. He hates your boyfriend with a burning passion now, well more than he usually did.

"I love him," you whisper softly, leaving Satoru unsure on if you're convincing yourself of your love or announcing your love to the world; he'd prefer the former choice if it came down to it.

February 14th, 6 : 45 PM

Satoru rushes towards the bus stop as he looks down at his phone and your stagnant location, unmoving and unchanging for the past 2 hours, fearing for the worst of situation. Looking around hurriedly after arriving, his heart leaps with relief when he catches sight of your figure but it falls just as quickly as he notices your condition.

Your beautiful locks was now unkempt because of the wind, your skin peeking out of the sleeveless dress almost looked translucent with the chill settling in but what broke his heart was your expression, the look of a shattered heart set so deep in your eyes that you no longer looked like you anymore.

"You're gonna get sick at this rate," he sighs, throwing his coat over your shoulders. You look up at him with listless eyes, redness decorating every inch of it as you wipe your sore eyes again. "He cheated on me," you say quietly, shivering slightly as you finally come to your senses, pulling the coat a little tighter over you.

Helping you up on your feet, he pulls you close with an arm and gently rubs your back," Let's get you home," he mumbles softly- you slump under his hold, mindlessly moving your feet as he takes you back home.

7 : 23 PM

"Tell me everything from the start," he folds his arm across his chest with his blindfold off, satisfied as he watches you all bundled up on the couch. You take in a deep breathe, lips wobbling slightly as you pathetically hold back tears again; Satoru really needs to get rid of your boyfriend quickly.

"Well, I wanted to surprise him for valentines day so I stopped by his house," you take in a deep breathe, voice thick with emotions as your trembling hands pick on the blanket over you. "An- and when I entere-," you sputter, fresh new wave of tears pouring out of you as the memory floods in. Immediately rushing to your side on the couch, he pulls you in and shushes at you- baffled at how vulnerable you were at the moment, he watched you exorcise curses multiple times your size and strength without seeing you flinch even once but the fact that one non-sorcerer has you shaking in tears baffles him, thoroughly so.

You clench onto his shirt, looking up at his cerulean eyes with your own wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks." Satoru, help me," you whimper out pleadingly. "What?" Satoru breathes out, looking down at you from the squashing hold he has you under, "Help me forget," you sob and he mentally kicks himself for finding you so pretty even in this situation.

"Knock me out, use your cursed techniques. Do whatever you want just please hel-" he cuts you off, pressing his lips softly against yours- no longer able to hold his feelings back when you're practically begging him, all his morals practically thrown out of the window. Your breathe hitches in surprise when you feel his hand snaking up your head, tangling it in your hair and feels his tongue swiping against your lips for entrance; you pull away and he reluctantly allows you to do so, lips slightly parted as he looks at you guiltily.

"I'm sor-" this time you cut him off, pulling him in and crushing your lips against his- you needed to forget and he kissed you first...so that's a good sign isn't it? The feeling of heartbreak and want to forget completely over-powering the guilt of using Satoru for your own benefit; Satoru couldn't be happier though, the initial shock of being kissed was wearing off and being replaced by a primal urge, he could finally show you that he was so much better than your boyfriend. In more ways than one.

Hungrily kissing your soft lips, he paws at the blanket and pulls it off of you, eager to touch your skin- delighted when you allow him to do so, your own hands tangling in his hair. "Bedroom," you gasp hurriedly, pointing towards the direction and he immediately complies. Stumbling towards the bedroom, neither breaking the heated kiss as pieces of clothing gets discarded on the floor and fingers tug at everything and anything.

Reaching the room without breaking the kiss, Satoru tugs at your bra with a firm pull and rips it apart, earning him a small protest out of you," I'll replace that later," he mumbles in your lips, hands cupping your ass. Sloppily kissing your jaw and making his way down to your exposed chest; licking, sucking and rolling every inch of your skin possible, marking your body red and purple- he shuts the door behind him with his feet, reveling in the small sounds of pleasure gushing out of your mouth.

"Satoru, can't stand," you whine out when your legs gives out under you, arms wrapped weakly around his neck as he lifts you up and gently lays you down on the bed, shifting himself right in-between your legs and prying it open with little effort from his side when you try to shut it close. Hooking a finger at the edge of your lacy underwear, he pulls it down torturously slowly- mouth drying up at the sight of your cunt, wet and clenching onto nothing. "So pretty," he coos, holding your thighs apart with his hands, he leans down and inhales your scent, ignoring the way you squirmed underneath him. Gently parting your folds with his fingers and watching your slick coat your walls, he swallows thickly as he licks his lips.

"Wai-" you cry out, hands hurriedly grabbing onto the sheets when he sucks at your clit with no warning, gulping down your juice like a starved man," tastes s' good," he moans, sending vibrations through you; arching your back and grinding your hips against his face, your eyes roll back from the stimulation. Popping a long slender finger inside, he explores every inch; a wide grin stretching on his face when he grazes a spot and your hip bucks up, sucking his finger whole with a loud moan.

"That feel good?" He asks, lazily adding in another and abusing your weak spot. You nod your head, hands clasping over your mouth to hold back your moans as tears collect in your eyes again, spilling over the edges and onto the sheets. "You look so much prettier crying under me instead of over him," he mumbles, resting his head on your thigh as he looks up at you with flushed cheeks, working his fingers inside you.

Fondling his clothed bulge with his other hands, his gaze zeroes on you, burning every detail into memory afterall you might never wanna see him again after this so he'd rather take the chance to memorize all your cute reactions and small mewls, clenching around his finger and oozing cream over it as you jerk from your orgasm, your vision goes black and Satoru moans loudly with you- imagining his cock being replaced with his fingers does wonders for him.

"I'm putting it in," he sits up hurriedly, positioning himself between your legs while pulling his boxers down, letting his cock spring free. You gulp at the sight of it, pre-cum leaking out heavily from the tip and his happy trail making it just the more appetizing but there was just one big problem- he was big, too big in both girth and length. He was so much bigger than your boyfriend and your boyfriend's dick felt right despite not wanting to admit it, the size did feel right. But Satoru's? His was gonna rip you, it's not gonna fit and you're not exaggerating just for the sake of it. It was pretty, sure but it's not gonna fit.

"That's not gon-" he cuts you off yet again, shoving his slick covered fingers in your mouth as he tuts at you disapprovingly. Gathering the slick from your folds with his other hand, he slathers it against his raging cock reverently- pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he licks it clean as he watches you gulp from the sight of it, a small smirk on his face; pushing your folds apart, he angles his fat tip against your hole and pushes in slowly.

"Satoru, wait," you whine out, hands pushing against his muscled alabaster chest, squirming under him and trying to scoot backwards but alas, his grip on your hips prevents you from doing so," you should stop moving so much," he grunts, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes to hold himself back from slamming his cock in you.

"I change my mind, stop. Please," you plead, nails digging in his chest and he sighs, frustratedly pushing his hair back and quickly pulling away from you. Watching him leave out the door, "probably to pick up his clothes," you think, relieved for having your cunt spared despite the ache between your legs. Your relief is quickly cut short when see Satoru enter the bedroom still naked, still hard but with a blindfold in hand now, leaving you swallowing thickly.

"What's that for?" You squeak nervously, sitting up and looking at him standing above you with a wide grin, flashing his pearly whites at you which just unsettles you more. "You'll find out," he murmurs, leaning down and grabbing your ankle, pulling you towards him when you start inching backwards. Your sputtered out protests falls on deaf ears and you're left shocked when he pulls the blindfold over your eyes, hindering your sight as you start panicking, hurriedly trying to pull it off your eyes but stopped when a hand grabs hold of your wrists and pins it above your head with a bruising grip, pushing you flat on the bed.

More protests pours out of your mouth but is quickly silenced when soft lips crushes against yours, the lack of sight only making you more sensitive when you feel a hand press down on your belly, lighting your skin aflame and groaning when the hold on your wrists tightens ever so slightly. Heat pools in your stomach and you buck your hips up, helplessly grinding your throbbing cunt against chiseled abs for friction. Loud whimpers of protest from you gets muted down by Satoru's lips against yours when he pushes his cock between your walls, unrelenting even when you're tugging at your wrists and squirming under him.

Inch by inch, he pushes into your velvety walls steadily with no sign of stopping, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your cunt squeeze and pull him in so needily. "You're s' needy," he moans in your lips, finally bottoming out in you with a grunt, pulling a long needy whine out of you. The delicious stretch of his cock minimizing the pain of being stretched so far, your eyes cross underneath the blindfold and your mouth lolls open, giving Satoru free reign as he sucks and lolls his tongue with yours. Pulling away with a loud smack, a string of saliva attaching itself between both your swollen lips, he looks down at your breatheless, twitching body with a satisfied hum.

"You're really so selfish, y'know?" He grunts, grinding his hips against yours, not yet letting go of his hold on your hand. "All you do is whine and complain about your boyfriend to me without ever caring about how I feel," he stutters, pulling out and ramming back into you with a loud squelch, you squeal and arch your back as he looks down fascinatedly at your cunt taking him in.

"And do you know what makes it worse? The fact that you always say you love him in my face," an incoherent babbles of what he thinks is 'I'm sorry' pours out of you, uncaring of your condition he continues ramming himself in with every word. "When you clearly know that I love you, it's like you consciously try to make me jealous," he snaps his cock brutally against your sweet spot, his hand finally lets go of your pinned hands and grabs hold of your hips to pull you down and meet his. His other hand abusing your swollen clit, leaving you with broken whimpers and stuttering breathes.

Leaning down and resting his face on the crook of your neck, his whispered "I love you's" falling upon unheard ears. Kitten scratching his back and your hips moving against his, his hand glides down to the protusion on your belly everytime he's inside and presses down on it- light flashes in your eyes through the blindfold and you squeal out, cunt squirting it's juices against his stuttering pace. Still fucking you through your orgasm until he cums in you, your silky cunt milking him for all it's worth.

He falls down ontop of you and refuses to pull out, trying to plug his cum inside you- lucky him if he got you pregnant. Pulling the blindfold off from your eyes, he looks at your starstruck eyes with a tired grin. "That help you forget?" He mumbles, kissing your collarbone as you weakly nod your head. You whimper tiredly when you feel his softened cock get hard inside your sensitive hole," Let's just make sure it stays that way, yea?"

_________________________________________________

Bonus :

Satoru is woken up by the sound of a ringing phone, groggily looking around when he notices your naked form snuggled against his which pulls a small smile out him. However the insistent ringing is starting to annoy him, what if it woke you up and made you pull away from him? He'll get to that when you wake up naturally, he has plenty of time till then.

Sighing and gently prying you off of him, his silent footsteps pads off towards the hallway filled with strewn clothes. Reaching down to your upturned phone, he annoyedly picks it up and looks at the caller, "Love♡" being the ID, he rolls his eyes at it. Why was your boyfriend even calling you at 4 in the morning? "That's a nice way of calling yourself insensitive." He mumbles to himself, picking the call up and bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, its not what you think it is. I swea-" your boyfriend starts, " Thanks for messing up. I appreciate it," Satoru cuts him off, quickly cutting the call and switching it off, silence ensuing in the dark hallway again. Throwing your phone back into the pile of clothes, he makes his way towards the bedroom again when another phone starts to ring. He lets out a frustrated grunt, he shut the phone down so why is it ringing? Looking down he realizes it's his and sighs when he looks at the caller ID, "Plan C". Begrudgingly picking the call, he mumbles an annoyed hello.

"I did what you told me too, that'll be a million," a feminine voice rings from the other line," I'll send it right now," Satoru answers, quickly sending the cash through online payment. "Great doing business with you," the voice replies cheerily before cutting the call. Satoru shuts his phone too, languidly throwing it in the pile again as he walks towards the room. He got rid of your feelings for your boyfriend now all he needs to do is get rid of your boyfriend before you realize that everything was a set-up.

You're smart afterall, talking to your boyfriend might just give Satoru's plan away but until then, all Satoru wants to do is snuggle with you for the moment. He'll save the rest later.

_________________________________________________

I know I'm 4 days late for valentines but I had to post this 😭 luckily, my cast is off now >♡< (can't say the same about my laptop though 🥲)

Updates will be slower than usual until I replace my laptop.

Masterlist ♡ Serieslist ♡ NSFWlist

[uyuforu]

List of different Charts & explanation

Many people asked me about what exactly are the different charts I propose in my private readings, so in order for you to choose in peace what you want, you can refer to this list.

‧₊˚✩彡 Natal Chart

The Natal chart is the original chart, every other charts will be based on this one, as it literally represents you as an individual, who you are, what is your personality like, your preferences, and based on those which choices are you most likely to take. It's a good way to know yourself better and be aware of certain behavior. It can also indicates you where you need to work yourself.

‧₊˚✩彡 Solar Return Chart

A solar return chart will best describes what is most likely going to happen in your life for a year. It starts on the day your sun exactly returns to its initials position (= so your birthday). Example: if you are born on February 1st, your solar return will start on February 1st to January 31st of next year. So for your Solar Return of 2024-2025, it will be from February 1st 2024 to January 31st 2025. The more close to the end of one solar return you are, the closest you are stepping on your next solar return chart. It's a good chart to know what will be the main theme of your year and what you can achieve. It's also a way to predict when you will get successful, when you will marry or meet your FS, also a way to predict children.

‧₊˚✩彡 Lunar Return Chart

Very similar to Solar Return Chart except it's changing each month. It's nice to study it in order to see how your month will go. It is based on the moon as the title says, so the Moon will be the same sign and degree as in your NC.

Persona Charts are charts based on a planet or asteroid on your natal chart.

For example: You are Taurus Venus, then your Venus Persona Chart will be Taurus Sun.

It will tell you more about the planet or asteroid and what influence it has on you.

‧₊˚✩彡 ASC/ Rising Persona Chart

This PC will tell you about more about your personality and your identity. It's good to look at when you want to know more about yourself, since it's another layer of yourself.

‧₊˚✩彡 IC Persona Chart

The IC Persona Chart will tell you about your childhood, how it was, what happened, and how it is linked with what you call home today. What do you search for in a home? How will you feel more comfortable and at home?

‧₊˚✩彡 DSC Persona Chart

The Descendant Persona Chart is a chart that will tell you about your ideal type, who are you searching for the most, what kind of person, and what you like the most in a partner. This is another way to see the FS, because we usually go for people who are our type. It's also the type of person you tend to date.

‧₊˚✩彡 MC Persona Chart

MC persona chart is the best PC to look for when you are interested in knowing what is the best career pursue for you. If you don't know much about what you should do, look at it. If you know but you are not sure, look at it. If you know and you are sure about it, you can also see how it will develop in your life.

‧₊˚✩彡 Moon Persona Chart

Moon Persona Chart is based on one's emotions, and it gives you a bigger view over your emotions, how you control them, what do you hide the most. When looking at it, you can see a true new face of yourself, and you may discover a lot about your emotions and your relationship with them.

‧₊˚✩彡 Mercury Persona Chart

Mercury PC is a chart that will tell you more about the way you communicate, it's also about your mind, your ideas. You could also see what you tend to talk the most about, and what is truly hidden. You can see how you express yourself, and it can also help you know more about yourself.

‧₊˚✩彡 Venus Persona Chart

Venus Persona Chart will tell you more about your loving style, the way you express your love and feelings, and your love languages. You can also see your preferences in relationships and another insight about your ideal type.

‧₊˚✩彡 Mars Persona Chart

Mars Persona Chart will tell you more about your anger issues, how you express your jealousy, your ambition, your powerful emotions. It's also a way to know more about yourself sexually, what you like.

‧₊˚✩彡 Jupiter Persona Chart

It's all about your luck, in every planets you can see where you are most lucky at. It also tells you the limits, and where you can have more difficulties to be lucky at.

‧₊˚✩彡 North Node Persona Chart

It's to know more about your purpose in this lifetime. It also tells you about your lessons in this lifetime. How can you become your best self in this life.

‧₊˚✩彡 Juno Persona Chart

Juno is another asteroid that will tell you more about your soulmate, and your FS. It's a very romantic asteroid. It's another good way to see who you will marry. Get to know more about who this person is in this chart. It's a neutral PC, as it doesn't have genders.

‧₊˚✩彡 Groom/ Briede Persona Chart

Groom or Briede PC (depends who you are attracted to), will tell you the best about your Future Spouse. Who are they, what do they do, how are they like, etc. It's also the best way to know who you are as a spouse, or how you will be as a spouse. For example: if you are a woman, look at your Briede PC to know more about yourself as a spouse. If you are interested in men, look at your Groom PC to know more about your FS.

‧₊˚✩彡 Boda Persona Chart

Boda is the asteroid of marriage, as it is the Spanish translation. It's a PC that will literally tells you all you need to know about your wedding day. If you are curious, you should check it out!

‧₊˚✩彡 Fama Persona Chart

Fama is an asteroid that tells you more about your success, your fame, and rumors/ gossips about you. It's a PC that is good to look at if you want to know if you have chances to become successful, and in which industry, how and why. It will also tell you how you will live it, if you will like it, and if people will talk about you or not.

‧₊˚✩彡 Vertex Persona Chart

It's all about fated invents in your life. It will tell you what is most likely going to happen in your life as the Vertex always tell us about our fate.

‧₊˚✩彡 Synastry Chart

Synastry is just taking two natal charts and putting them against each other. It shows how each individual feels about the other. It can also show how the two met, and their feelings at that moment. The basic Synastry also shows the strengths and challenges each face with the other. It's the most basic and well known method about compatibility, even if I think personally, a compatibility cannot be made just with basic synastry. A relationship changes with time, we can't base ourselves with only that.

‧₊˚✩彡 Composite Chart

A Composite chart is a chart that is the result of adding two natal charts together. It's taking Person A + Person B= one chart that represent your relationship. It's really the same as a basic synastry but in one chart. So it shows the dynamic of the relationship, the purpose of the meeting, mutual challenges and strengths of the relationship. You can check an analysis I did of my Composite chart with my FS for you to see how it looks like.

‧₊˚✩彡 Solar Return Synastry Chart

A Solar Return Chart is a chart that represent the return of your sun in its original sign (your sun sign). So basically, it's your birthday. So a SRC only last a year, and every years (starting on your birthday, and ending either a day before or the day of your birthday the next year) you get a new chart. It usually tells what will happen in your life that year. Synastry there could be a good thing to look at. You take two SRC of the same year and see the dynamic of the two people that certain year. You can see how your relationship evolves. I talk more about it here and here.

‧₊˚✩彡 Solar Return Synastry Chart

Similar to Solar Return Chart but based on Lunar Return Chart, which so changes every month. This synastry will explain what you feel for each other every month and so you can see a bigger and faster development to it. It's a theory still.

‧₊˚✩彡 Solar Return Composite Chart

Same thing as Solar Return Synastry but with Composite instead. It will tell you about how your relationship develop over the years, or mostly during that particular solar return you choose. While the Synastry is good to see how you feel towards each other, what is happening between you two, who is doing what to the other one, the composite here will tell you how your relationship develop, and how your feelings for each other too.

‧₊˚✩彡 Solar Return Composite Chart

Similar to Solar Return Composite but based on Lunar Return Chart, which so changes every month. This composite will explain how is your relationship evolving every month and so you can see a bigger and faster development to it. It's a theory still.

More about different compatibility charts

‧₊˚✩彡 Derivative Astrology

This is a technique that only applies to your Natal Chart. This technique is used to see different matters in your life and make predictions based on your Natal Chart. This is not only just checking your natal chart indicators, this is more than that. We say Derivative because we based ourselves on a certain house to start. For example, to know more about your Future Spouse, we are going to first start with the 7H, since it represents our FS. The 7H will so become the 1H of our FS. And we will continue with different houses and say more about them. Your 7H -> Their 1H (who they are) Your 4H -> Their 10H (their job + reputation, relationship with father) Your 10H -> Their 4H (where they come from and their family, relationship with mother and family)

Book a reading with Uyu:

*Uyu’s Email Adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

*This is the only email address I have!

Soft To You Presentation + Q&A ⟡ Menu ⟡ Rules ⟡ Instagram ⟡ Youtube ⟡INDEX ⟡ Ask

[seukorei]

seukorei 2K DTIYS!! (ENDED)

thank you so much for supporting and enjoying my work this year!! <33 ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ

here's the artwork!! ^^ details below cut

INFO

start time: RIGHT NOW !!!!!

***END TIME HAS BEEN EXTENDED TO MARCH 18TH*****

end time: february 15th (?) i'm totally happy with extending it further just shoot me an ask/dm for however long you need (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

you have to be following me to participate

either reblog this post or include the art in your post

pls @ me in the post and use the tag #seukorei2kdtiys

if i don't reblog your submission/you don't think i've seen it shoot me an ask/dm !!

GUIDELINES

i would like for the general vibe/setting of the work to be kept, i.e. the galaxy background, his glowing eye, general color feel (doesn't have to be exactly the same)

pose can be altered but in some way or another but try to do something with hands covering face (doesn't have to be exactly the same)

angle/light angle and composition are free to change

pm dazai/15 dazai/beastzai(?) are all fair game. just have one eye covered

expression is free to change, just have one eye open + make him slightly unsettling if you can (●'◡'●)

overall, you can probably change as many things as you want but i just want the overall vibe to stay the same!! <3

edit: does not have to be a digital piece, can totally be traditional art

PRIZES

i'm cross-platform hosting this on my insta/twitter as well so i'm gonna pick three winners in total (not necessarily one from each platform), same prize for everyone!

won't be fully-fully rendered because i don't think i can pull that off with three people but more of a sketchy soft style e.g.

(will probably be cleaner though and while i'll really try to finish prizes in a succint manner i'm pretty busy and it might take awhile to wrap everything up :)

here's the full art piece without the tag!!

again, thank you so much for supporting me and my art and i hope everyone has a lovely new year !! (≧∇≦)ﾉ

[ana-bananya]

Asking for help is not easy, I ask for a small donation of only 20$ from each person, 20$ will save my family from death in Gaza 💔 Donate through the link in bio (gofundme) Together, we can achieve our goal within a day and provide crucial support to me and my family in Gaza. Your contribution means everything to us and in these difficult times your kindness is our greatest hope. We are very grateful for any assistance you can provide and thank you for your kindness and generosity in our time of need

I can't do $20 at this time, but I can give $10. I will reblog with my proof of donation once I make the donation and I'll encourage others to do the same.

$130/$50,000

Mahmoud's account hasn't been vetted to my knowledge, but it is credible. Please donate to him if you are able. His gfm was made back in February and only has $130.

Here is the family's situation, as explained by Mahmoud in the gfm:

"Dear beloved friends, My name is Mahmoud Alkhaldi. I am a Palestinian refugee living with my fiancée and family in a catastrophic situation-in tents- in Rafah. However, for 116+ days, me and my family have been under intense bombing and warplanes rockets in the Gaza strip. I’m asking funds to evacuate (5) members of my family from Gaza to a safe place in Egypt, including my younger brother (Mohammed, his wife, and his 1 and half year son Yasser), and me and my fiancée Sujood). It could be very expensive and costly to evacuate a war zone at a miserable time like this. We will need approximately $50000 and a lot of prayers.

My home was cozy, beautiful, and warm before the war. Here is some pictures for our house before the war

Our home was targeted in a tank bombing on the 25th of November 2023 that left it unlivable, along with the entire neighborhood of Al-Burij refugee camp, in Gaza City.

When we returned back to our home to get some needed itemsand clothes, we found that Israeli soldiers also steal our belongings. Since that day, my family has been sleeping in a miserable tent in Rafah, in the south of Gaza, which has become a home for all people from the Gaza strip, whose homes were also destroyed by airstrikes, but they have survived thus far.

I can't express how useless and depressed we felt after finding out what they'd been through and are currently going through. Each moment, we worry about losing them. Without connection settings, we cannot constantly contact them. During the moment of typing, over 25,0000 individuals have been killed in Gaza. They are without electrical power or heating for a period of three months, food is limited, and their drinking water is unsafe for human consumption. My family's only hope is to evacuate to to a safer place out of Gaza. My family went through the loss of several friends, and many of them have lost their spouses and children. I am afraid of losing my family. They are the light that leads me through my life. I cannot live or survive without them."

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part sixteen

authors note: this is a nice lil break from all of the angst! ya'll deserve it! just.....remember that storms sometimes come in cycles, so let's just enjoy now! also, my legal knowledge is limited, so we take some creative liberties. just go with the flow, bro.

i also wanna just say thank you, as always, to all of you who enjoy this story of mine! i hit over 100k words and 300+ pages in the google doc i write this in, and it's such a special thing that i feel largely goes to you all for the wonderful support. so thank you!!!!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst (good-ish?), fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

The hearing to see if the open case against you moves forward is scheduled for 8am on February 15th, 2024.

You’re outside that courthouse at 7am sharp on February 15th, 2024.

It’s all you could think about in the days leading up. Once you learned that you passed your home inspection, there was a bit of relief but still that bitter feeling of not knowing how the court date would go that kept you in that loop of misery.

Joe, bless his soul, has been a saint, staying with and supporting you in between his frequent trips to your mom’s house to spend time with Callie.

And Alexis…..my God, you’re not sure how and if you could ever repay her. She gave you a detailed play by play of her attack on Mariah, and while on the surface level, it pleased you to know that bitch got her ass beat.

It didn’t do shit to the emotional pain you’ve felt at having your child ripped away from you.

Hate is a strong word, but you hate her. She could drop dead tomorrow, and you’d spit on her grave.

It’s a bold sentiment but also how you feel. Maybe it’ll go away as time passes, or maybe it won’t. Truth be told, you don’t really care too much about it either way.

You’d hoped Alexis would stay around a little longer, as you deeply enjoyed her company, her support, wanted to express to her how much her grounding you and keeping you from catching a case, putting herself at risk for catching a case, meant to you. But, in true Alexis fashion, she’d hopped on a flight and skipped town.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. She can never be in one place for too long, but it does leave a little bit of a sting. 

Granted, in her words, “Girl, don’t worry, I’ll be back when my warrant becomes active.”

The memory brings a small smile on your face as you sit in the courtroom, hearing the details of the case presented to the judge. 

It’s a daunting ordeal but not nearly as difficult as you anticipated, mostly because there is literally nothing being presented that could implicate you in any way. Truthfully speaking, the prosecutor and your public defender sound like they're advocating for the same thing: a complete dismissal. 

It provides you a small slither of reassurance and validates your request to have Joe stay at the apartment. In the negative percent chance that something went wrong today, you wanted to continue to keep his presence in Callie’s life a secret. Push comes to shove, he could serve as a liaison between the two of you.

The presenting of the “evidence” lasts much shorter than you were anticipating, and it’s when the court is ordered to stand, that the rush of anxiety returns. It takes a lot in you to settle yourself, to keep your foot from tapping, to keep from falling out.

Reminding yourself that not a speck of incriminating evidence was presented, thus no basis for moving forward with the investigation, is what keeps your centered.

As centered as one can be in this moment. 

There’s a brutal delay in the moments before the verdict is handed, one that makes your throat dry and eyes water. It’s suddenly so overwhelming, but you force yourself to pull it together. 

Judge Merritt removes his glasses from his eyes and releases a heavy sigh. “In all my years on this bench, this may be the most frustrated I’ve felt by a case before me.” For a second, your stomach drops. What does he mean by that? “There is not an ounce of evidence before me to support the actions that were taken nor the claims made against the defendant.” A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you ground your feet into your heels. That’s definitely not what you were expecting him to say, but it’s most definitely what you were praying he would say. 

“The law is the law, and I respect all parties involved who followed protocol. But my God, what a waste of time and resources.” He then directs his focus specifically on you, gaze almost apologetic. “Young lady, I sincerely apologize for the stress this situation has put you and this innocent child under. What a disgrace. Whoever made these horrific, false accusations against you, may God have mercy on their soul.” He reaches for his gavel. “All charges are dismissed against the defendant on the basis of no evidence. This case is officially closed, and the child is to be returned to the defendant’s custody, effectively immediately.”

At the same moment he bangs the gavel, you double over, hand over your stomach, crying almost instantaneously. “Thank you,” you say in between tears and share a hug with your lawyer. Surely, this is the easiest case they’ve ever defended, but it’s now one of the most important moments of your life.

You don’t hesitate to gather your jacket and adjust the purse on your shoulder as you murmur a goodbye to the lawyer and make your way down the aisle of the courtroom. You’ll probably send him a thank you card with a heartfelt message at a later date and time, but that’s not a priority currently.

The only thing you want and need is to go get your baby.

You’re looking down, trembling hands digging for your car key in your purse when you hear it, the single most beautiful sound to exist in this world, in your world.

“Mommy!”

There’s a good chance you risk whiplash when your head snaps up at the sound of the voice you’ve been almost dying to hear for the past couple days. It’s so worth it when you land your eyes on that dimpled smile that makes your life have meaning.

“Callie…..”

Before you can even close the gap between the two of you, Callie’s little feet are moving across the busy lobby of the courtroom. You literally drop to both knees, arms spread to accept her hug when she throws her body against yours. 

The tears intensify as you hold her close, hold her tight, like you’ll never let her go. And you won’t. Never again. “Calista….” She’s crying into your chest the same way your tears are soaking the top of her head. “My baby. My sweet baby….”

Callie pulls back to look at you with a frown you hope to never see on her face ever again. “Please don’t leave me anymore, mommy.”

“Never,” you vow. Law be damned, nothing could ever separate you from her again. “I will never leave you again.”

It’s the joy and happiness you feel at being reunited with your daughter that prevents you from asking just why the hell she’s at the courthouse. But, that question is answered when footsteps approach the two of you.

Your heart swells again. “Mom….” 

Your mom is the first to pull you into her for a hug that includes the three of you. She pulls ways, tears in her eyes. “There was no way on God's green earth I was going to let one more unnecessary minute pass before letting that baby be with you again.” It’s clear Joe communicated the time of your court date with your mom to make sure she would be here right on time for the dismissal and subsequent return of custody of Callie to you.

He’s literally the perfect man.

You can’t stop hugging Callie, can’t stop holding her tight, almost needing to have her in your embrace. It’s when you turn to your mom though, needing to express something to her but not entirely knowing how that you loosen your hold a little bit. “I’ve missed you so much, mom, but….”

She lifts her hand to stop you. “I understand, sweetie. We’ll catch up.” You appreciate her so much in this moment. She must know all you want is to be able to have Callie back in your place again, return to some semi sense of normalcy. “Go take your baby home.”

She gets it. You love her and have missed her dearly. However, you just want to go back to your place, especially as Joe is eagerly waiting for Callie to be back with you as well. Just want her to be home.

“Thank you, mama,” you hug her again, sniffling. She holds you for a minute and then steps back, brushing a hand over Callie’s face. Callie, who hasn’t pulled her head away from where she’s laying on your chest. 

You thank her yet again for all she did. She had to have been out of work the past week to stay with Callie, and you make a mental note to talk to her about giving her some money for that time she couldn’t work. You know she does okay for herself, but that loss of income has to impact her one way or another.

She may not accept it, but you still want to offer.

The car drive is full of Callie catching you up on everything you missed in the days without her, and you eat up every second of it. She’s even more thrilled when she sees that Joe is at the apartment, waiting for you and her with breakfast already prepared.

He really is a gem.

The three of you enjoy your meal, Callie opting to sit on your lap as she eats, clearly wanting to be close to you. 

The feeling is mutual. 

Joe had made a comment just yesterday, partially frustrated as it was Valentine’s Day, and he wanted to do something nice for you, something nice with you. But, he already knew you weren’t really in the mood for anything other than sulking and obsessing over your court date. Still, he was just irked about the situation as a whole and its hindering him spending what should be a special day catering to you.

You’d calmly explained to him that the best valentine's day gift you could receive was returned physical and actual custody of your daughter. And to have her back, to have just that, means the absolute world to you.

All you need is her.

Hence why the rest of the day is spent holed up in your apartment, Callie taking the lead and dictating what she wants to do. A lot of play. Some movie viewings. Occasional food breaks. And a lot of wholesome fun.

It warms your heart to see how happy she is to be home. 

The three of you are sitting on the floor of your living room, coffee table moved to the side to make room for all of Callie’s art supplies she ‘shares’ with the two of you as you all color. It’s about halfway through the day, when you realize you’ll need to start wrapping up to get her in bed.

Clearing your throat, you catch her attention. “Callie….your dad and I want to talk to you about something.” Her eyes lift from the page and settle on you with a heightened level of curiosity. Reaching out to brush back some of her hair, you start to explain, “you know how we live here in mommy’s place in this town?” She nods. “Well, daddy actually lives somewhere else when he’s not working.”

Her eyes fall on Joe as she asks, “where do you live?”

He answers with the gentleness you’ve noticed he reserves for her and only her. “I live in Florida.”

Her eyes flash with a glimpse of excitement. “Really? That’s where Disney is!”

Joe chuckles, and you can tell he doesn’t want to focus too much on that aspect of the move. He wants Disney to be an absolute surprise for her. “It is, but almost all of your cousins all live in Florida too.”

The excitement grows as she clarifies. “Cousin Jon and Cousin Josh too?”

Joe flicks her nose. “Yup.”

“Callie….” You redirect her attention back to you, taking both of her hands in yours. “Your dad and I think it’s a good idea if….if you and I move to Florida with him.” You quickly add on. “We’ll get a house together, and we’ll all live with each other. That way when daddy comes to visit, he’ll be at home with us.”

You can tell she’s sitting on the words, processing and making as much sense as a 4-year-old can make out of a situation like this. Finally, she asks, “will I still see grandma?”

This is when Joe jumps in and assures her. “I will make sure your grandma can come see you whenever she wants, baby girl.” Callie is too young to understand the underlying meaning of his words, but you catch on quickly. He’ll pay for your mom to come visit whenever she, you, or Callie want to see one another. “And you and mommy can come here and visit however many times you want to.” At this point, as this man is already forking up most, if not all of the money for a house, you have a hard time finding it in you to protest any of this. Especially as it primarily benefits Callie.

Again, she sits on this new information and asks a follow up question. “Can we get a backyard?”

Joe is quick to answer. “We sure can.”

She glances up at him with those sweet eyes you’re almost certain he’s physically incapable of saying ‘no’ to. “A big backyard?”

Joe suddenly reaches over and lifts her up high. Callie’s sweet giggles are food to your soul. God, you missed her. “As big as you want.”

Settling into Joe’s lap, she shoots you a wishful glance. “And a puppy, mommy?”

Laughing, you reach and tickle her side. “Nice try, sis, but you know the rule. Not until you hit double digits.”

Joe gives you that look. That look that tells you this is clearly something he wants to “discuss” further when alone, i.e., try to convince you why you should cave. You’re open for the discussion, but you’re not changing your mind. Callie is entirely too young for a pet, because you would be the one taking care of the damn dog most of the time anyway. And as you weren’t raised with animals, it’s not really your thing.

Maybe a fish.

Settling down, you ask her again as she sits comfortably in Joe’s lap. “So, you’re okay with this? With us moving?” Before she can answer, you add. “We’re going to try to find a house soon, so….so we can move as soon as we can.” This is the part you struggle with the most. Not having a lot of time to prepare for such a big thing, but you also know the sooner you’re out of that town, the better. Not being able to give her more time to say goodbye though absolutely sucks. 

Still.

You have to get Callie out of this town. 

“What about my graduation?” There’s a hint of sadness to her question. Understandably so. This is a big accomplishment for her. 

Joe offers, gently. “We’ll do something special for your graduation. I promise. Maybe invite your cousins.”

“With ice cream?”

“Yes. With ice cream.” Laughing, you share a look with Joe who nods for you to share the next part. “Hey, baby?”

“Hmm?”

“You, me, and daddy are gonna spend some time in Florida this weekend so we can go tour a house and see what we think of it.”

It’s something you and Joe discussed at length the night before. Well, more him telling you that he thought it’d be a good idea if you could get away for a couple days. You’re pretty sure he expected more of a protest from you, but he received none. The idea of being in a completely different state with Callie is more appealing than you think he realizes. 

It’s not a hard sell.

As with most of this discussion, she’s clearly intrigued. “Really?”

Nodding, you continue. “Daddy’s gonna fly out with us tomorrow morning, but he’s gotta leave tomorrow afternoon to get back to work, so it’ll mostly be you and me this weekend. But, I talked to your cousin Kaylah and we’re gonna see if you and Ellie can have a playdate.”

Both Kaylah and Trinity have checked on you often in the past week, offering words of support and encouragement that truly held you up in moments where you were already feeling so low. 

They make the idea of moving and having that kind of support system that much more enticing.

Connecting with her cousin clearly chips away some of Callie’s sadness as she cheers. “Yay!”

It pleases you immensely that she took the news so well, though a large part of you believed she would. 

This is what she’s always wanted.

A family. 

————

Traveling with Joe is so much easier than traveling alone, mostly because of how helpful it is to have another adult present when flying with a child. Naturally, Callie stays close to you, but it’s the closeness and holding her most of the time while Joe handles luggage and checking you in for your flight that you appreciate more than anything.

You’re appreciative of all he does for you, but it's physically being there that makes the biggest difference. His money is fine and all, but you don’t care about that shit. You just need him. That’s all.

Of course, he got you all first class tickets but unlike the last time you flew with Callie, instead of her being the social butterfly that she is by making friends with the flight crew, she’s fast asleep in her seat. It’s not entirely unexpected considering the ungodly hour you had to wake her up at to make it in time for the flight. If the situation was different, you’d have objected to such a crunch timeline. However, as Joe literally has a show tonight, the earlier the flight, the sooner you could view the house, the better the chances he can make his flight out in time.

Joe’s apartment is exactly as nice as you imagined it to be. It’s definitely luxury, but it looks like it’s unlived in, which is expected. You know he spends most of his time on the road. He’s probably been at your place more than he’s been at his own in the past couple months.

That’s just the life of a professional wrestler.

You lay Callie down in the guest bedroom and let her get in a little rest while you freshen up in the shower before Joe shows you around his place, where things are and whatnot. He tries to get you to take a nap, but it’s hard for you to sleep, especially when you slept as well as you did the night before.

The best sleep you’ve had since Callie was removed from you.

So, you instead catch up on some emails, mostly work related, navigating a time to meet with your principal and figure out some plan for your resignation. You’d be willing to stay on with the school system to guide and help out whoever they hire to replace you, so long as they understand it would be a long distance type of situation. 

Regardless, it’s not a major concern. Your family comes first. 

Joe, being the perfect man that he is, fixes a breakfast for you and Callie to eat before you head out. And it’s nice to finally be able to eat without emptying your stomach less than half an hour later. It’s even nicer to be able to share that breakfast with the two people you love the most.

Similar to breakfast, the car ride to the viewing is a fun time, Joe allowing Callie to have control of the music. She, of course, asks you to play her Disney playlist.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve missed this, missed all of her requests, everything about her, really. 

But pulling up to said house is an entirely different experience.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as Joe pulls his Range Rover into the driveway behind the red Tesla you’d guess belongs to the realtor his manager hired for ya’ll, Jen.

“Mommy, you said a bad word,” Callie scolds, and Joe chuckles. You shoot him a side glare which only makes him laugh more as he moves to unbuckle Callie from her booster seat. 

“Mommy’s sorry, baby.” It’s a genuine apology, but you don’t actually regret what you said. You can’t help it. The house looked huge in the pictures, but it’s massive in person. You feel like you’ve just walked into Beverly Hills or something. Like if the house wasn’t secured by a massive, black wrought iron gate, the neighbors would call the police on you for trespassing on some where did you people come from BS.

Jen, the realtor, is waiting for you in the foyer of the house. She’s nice enough, seems genuine and chill. But, it’s hard to focus too much on her when you’re stuck in a state of awe at the fact that you’re literally standing in a mansion. Callie instantly falls in love just from the fact that her voice echoes near the entrance, among other things as well, but that fact alone wins her over immediately. 

You find it strange, however, when Jen basically leaves the three of you alone to tour the house. Granted, you’ve never actually been on a house tour, everything you've seen on HGTV indicated homegirl is supposed to actually, well, sell the house.

“Sis must not care about this commission,” you whisper to Joe, but a gasp immediately leaves your mouth afterwards as you walk into the kitchen. “Oh my god….” You’d fallen in love the minute you saw the pictures, but seeing it in person is a whole other experience. “Look at the ovens.” The open floor plan of the kitchen alone probably rivals half the size of your apartment back home. Maybe more. “Is this real granite?” Running a finger over the cool stone, you realize that in a house this big and luxurious, it only makes sense that everything included is real. 

And expensive.

Callie giggles, standing close to Joe. “Maybe mommy can learn how to cook.”

Smacking your teeth, you playfully cross your arms over your chest, warning, “okay, I’m forreal. Ya’ll better leave me alone. I try.” 

“Yes, you do absolutely try.” You can’t move fast enough to punch Joe’s arm, a small laugh leaving his mouth at your slowness. Or maybe it’s just his speed. You can tell he’s been hitting the gym harder in preparation for WrestleMania, and it’s paying off, paying off very well. With everything going on, you haven’t had the time nor desire to show him said appreciation. 

An unfortunate occurrence indeed. 

“Let’s look at the rest,” Joe encourages, leaning over to pick up Callie, though something tells you she’ll be wiggling to get down and explore with her own two feet. 

Following them, you’re grateful that you wore your most comfortable pair of sneakers. Exploration of this home is a workout in and of itself.

Sure enough, you’re barely into the back of the house when Callie asks to get down, running into the movie theater room. “It’s just like the movies!”

“It sure is….” Touring the rest of the residence is something like out of a fantasy. There’s not a single thing you can find wrong with this house. The rooms, and there are plenty of them,  are large, spacious, ready to be decorated as you see fit. You even come across two spaces that you could see being your and Joe’s office spaces. That’s one thing you really did miss after giving up your office for Callie to have a playroom. This house is big enough for her to have two playrooms if she wants.

And you know Joe would give it to her. 

The master bedroom is literally perfect, but the bathroom is even better with a separate shower, bathroom, and large his/her sinks with counter space that links the two sinks. It conjures inappropriate thoughts about how said space could be used. 

But, it’s really the backyard that does it for you. It’s humongous, beautiful green grass stretching out for what seems like a mile. There’s a separate attached building that you already know Joe would turn into a home gym, a beautiful pool that’s covered up, covered patio and just nothing but room for Callie to run around.

And she does just that.

Her little legs take her all over the greenery as you take in everything else. 

Joe suddenly turns you toward him. His hand is on the back of your neck, and his voice is almost vulnerable, as he asks, “do you like it?”

Maybe if not for the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on the past week, you’d hit him with your usual smartass remark. But, that’s neither a desire nor an option, as you answer with equal vulnerability. “I love it.” It’s when you see that spark of excitement and relief in his eyes that you see a glimpse of Callie, see her smiling face and big, hopeful eyes. You’d never realized just how much of him is in her. “But Joe, I don’t want you sp—”

“It’s ours.” 

One, two, three blinks precede you asking with a stutter in your voice. “W–what?”

His hands shift to your hips as he repeats himself. “It’s ours.”

There’s a hint of alarm growing in your body and projected into your voice. “You’re saying that like it’s supposed to make sense, Joe.” 

He brings his lips to your forehead and says, “this is our house.”

You’re hearing him, but you’re not actually hearing him because there’s no way in hell he can be serious right now. No way that he can seriously be telling you that this beautiful house you’re standing in, the kind of house people can only dream about having one day, the level of luxury that’s reserved for Pinterest and vision boards…..is yours.

Chuckling at your probably expected reaction, he adds. “I could tell by your facial expressions just looking at the pictures that you loved it, so I asked Kaylah and Alexis to come see it, since Kay knows what I like, and I know Lex knows what you like.” You suddenly realize why he was being a bit strange with his phone the other day, a stark difference from the man who literally told you his passcode even when you didn’t ask for it. Going through your man’s phone was never your thing, especially with him. You trust him too much for that shit.

It also explains Alexis' sudden departure. She was checking out the house for you, seeing if it was something that you would like. Obviously, it’s not something you like.

It’s something you love.

Joe continues to explain. “Now, technically, the signing isn’t until next week, because I wanted to give you and Callie a chance to see it for yourselves, but it is under contract to make sure it’s ours….if you want it.”

If…..

There is no if in this situation.

“Joe…..” Tears are burning your eyes, and it’s still hard to comprehend just what he’s saying, but the reality is also setting in as well. “You seriously bought us a house?”

His expression softens, voice lowering as he reminds you. “I told you, I love you, and I want to be with you. Wanna be with Callie.” 

It’s hard to not be choked up in this moment where this man has literally purchased an entire house for you. And not some small 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom starter home in the middle of bumfuck nowhere but a literal mansion, a dream.

Sniffling, you nod to yourself, laughing tearily and reach up to hug him. Joe’s arms are immediately around you, holding your body close to his. “Thank you.” He must have done all of this in under a week, recognized how difficult all of this was on you and wasted no time in speeding up this process to get you what you need. “Thank you so much.”

He’s always there for you when you need him, and you’re not sure how to help him understand how that means the absolute world to you.

Callie runs over to where you’re standing, trying not to be a blubbering mess. Your emotions have been all over the damn place lately. Thankfully, she directs her question to Joe. “can we come visit here when we move to Florida? It’s so fun!”

You give Joe a nod, indicating to him that he should tell her. This may be a moment for all of you, but it’s a special thing you want him to be able to have with Callie. 

“Baby girl….” He kneels down on knee in front of her, gently pulling her closer to him. “This is our house.” She gasps, and you can only imagine the happy smile on his face. “You, me, and mommy, we’re gonna live here.”

“Really?” Her excitement is palpable and stretches across the entire premises. “Forever?”

He chuckles. “As long as you want to live here.” 

Callie suddenly asks, clearly realizing just what this means. “I can paint my room?”

That’s one thing you also know she’s always wanted to do, to paint the bland white walls of her room back at your place. 

Now though….now she can. 

“You can draw on the walls in your room for all I care, baby girl. It’s your room.” He would be that dad, the dad that lets his kid do whatever they want with their space, because it’s their space. 

If only you were that mom.

“Uhh, Joe—”

“And get a puppy!” Your eyes go wide at this. This child really is not taking you seriously, but you’re especially floored when Joe’s ass whispers to her something about talking to you about it.

It’s when Callie starts to run around the backyard, happy and ecstatic, celebrating, that you warn him. 

“You think I’m playing, Joe. Get that lil girl a puppy, and I promise you, you gon be taking Toto on the road with you. She gon be at your side when you do your slow ass walk to the ring. I’m not taking care of no dog.” And you mean that. Callie can give him all the puppy dog eyes—no pun intended—she wants. She’s just not old enough yet.

Of course, Joe tries to sway you, suggesting, “it’ll teach her responsibility.”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth as you observe Callie spinning in a circle. This child has the energy of the energizer bunny. “We already have one rambunctious child. Let’s just focus on her first, please?”

Your little family of three is more than enough.

It’s everything you need.

This, right here, right now, is all you need.

————

Joe told you he talked with Kaylah about being a bit of your tour guide and helping you and Callie to familiarize yourself with the area while he was gone, but he didn’t mention that Kaylah would literally be coming over that night.

It’s a surprise when you get a call from the front desk asking for permission to buzz Kaylah in, but you don’t hesitate to authorize it, especially when you overhear Ellie’s little voice in the background. 

You know Callie will be thrilled to see her cousin. 

And she definitely is, the two girls making more noise than probably what’s appropriate for an apartment, especially an upscale apartment. But, something tells you even if there is some type of noise complaint, Joe won’t hesitate to dead that shit.

“How are you doing? Really?” Kaylah asks as the two of you sit in Joe’s living room on the sofa as the girls play in the guest bedroom. The TV is on Smackdown, but Joe hasn’t made his appearance yet.

You promised Callie you’d call her when he got on screen, so it’s something you pay attention to.

“I can’t believe she would do that to you, and she was supposed to be your best friend?” Kaylah sounds rightfully disgusted. “You and Callie didn’t deserve that.”

“I have my baby back, so I’m much better now.” And it’s the truth. It’s almost night and day how having Callie back in your custody has completely changed your existence. You can actually bring yourself to do something other than cry, can actually experience emotions other than sadness, and most importantly, you can also keep food down.

There’s still some lingering nausea that you wish would just go away, but it’s tolerable. Much tolerable than the constant vomiting.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave that place. I don’t know if I could stay there either after that.”

“A part of me doesn’t want to go back now.” Even though you’ve only met Kaylah once, there’s something about her that’s comforting and easy to talk to. “I just….even now, it’s like I have this fear that they’re gonna take her from me as soon as I step foot off the plane.”

She reaches over and places her hand on top of yours. “That’s over with now. The judge dismissed everything. You’re okay, girl. Callie’s back home.”

Feeling the wetness on your face alerts you that those damn tears have returned. For someone who hates crying, you’ve sure been doing a lot of it. And you hate it. 

“Thank you, Kaylah.”

She gives you a warm nod and smile. “Oh!” Kaylah reaches over to her purse on the coffee table, digging around before she pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Here. You’ll need this.” Unfolding the paper, she explains, “it’s the info for the doctors and dentists Jon and I use for ourselves and the kids. Ellie especially loves Dr. Pyle. She’s super great with kids, and I absolutely adore my primary and OB-GYN. They’re both fabulous black women who actually listen when you have an issue.”

There’s so many things to consider when moving that it never even crossed your mind yet that you’d need to find a whole new slate of medical providers. Kaylah’s thoughtfulness is so appreciated. “Thank you. I should probably call tomorrow and get those appointments set up now.”

With everything you’ve been through this past week, it’s not a half bad idea to get a check up just to make sure everything is going good internally.

You add that to your to-do list for tomorrow. 

Maybe see the OB-GYN for your women’s wellness exam as well. You’re just about due anyway.

She nods. “Definitely, and I don’t know if you and Joe have talked about schools, but Ellie’s private school is really great.”

Private school….

You’d definitely thought about schools for Callie, but a private school wasn’t really an option as you were factoring in your financial capability. Now though….now that Joe is in the picture, you’re almost certain he would not only want Callie to be in private school vs public school, but he’d pay however much it cost to do so.

You’re not entirely opposed, interestingly enough. Especially since Callie is technically the kid of a celebrity, it might be a good move to keep her in a smaller, more private setting. 

“We haven’t, but I’m sure it's a discussion we’ll have.” You then remember. “Can you also give me the information for the dance academy Ellie goes to? I think I want to see about putting Callie in ballet.” It’s something she’s been wanting for a while, and accepting Joe’s financial generosity is becoming easier when you think about how it can benefit Callie. She deserves all of the happiness in the world.

And you’d much rather her do ballet than finesse her daddy into getting her a dog that’ll eventually be yours.

“Of course! We can actually swing by there tomorrow, so you can get a feel, if you want.” She offers, and it sounds like a great plan. Checking out the school with Joe is also something you make a mental note to discuss with him. Something tells you Kaylah is a good judge of character, but you need to check for yourself. This whole experience has made you that much more protective of your baby girl. “Joe also asked that I take you guys furniture shopping to start furnishing the house.”

At that, you groan and lean your head back against the sofa. “Girl, it’s gon take a minute to furnish that house. It’s so big.”

“It is, but it’s also so beautiful.” She leans closer to you, hand on your forearm. “And you don’t have to do everything at once, just like the master, Callie’s bedroom, the living room. You know, the main rooms.”

“Oh my goodness, I already know Joe is gonna’ have that girls room looking like a damn toy store.” He already mentioned something about knowing someone who does wall art and murals and reaching out to see if they could do a Disney mural in her bedroom. Not that you’re opposed to that. “He already spoils her. Now that we have this big ass house, I know it’s only going to get worse.”

Kaylah makes a sound and shrugs. “Let him. He loves her. He loves being a dad. Let him spoil her. Let him spoil you.”

“I love Joe for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with his money. I don’t need him to spoil me financially. Other ways though….” Because of everything that’s happened the past week, you’ve had neither the mental or desire to be intimate with Joe. But with Callie returned to you and the litany of other positive things happening in your life, that sex drive is gradually building back up.

A small part of you is wishing that you’d gotten in a ‘quickie’ in the small space of 

‘Callie is sleeping’ time before you went to see the house. Granted, you also know that Joe isn’t a fan of quickies.

If he can’t have you for as long as he wants you, milking out at least 2 to 3 orgasms, he doesn’t want you at all. 

“Girl please, that man is like my brother. I don’t need the visuals.” She laughs, waving her hands in a “please shut up” manner. Giggling, you glance at the TV and see the blue lights flashing around the arena.

Sitting up and angling your body towards the back of the sofa, you make a sound when your chest presses against the cushion of the sofa. Your boobs have been weirdly tender too. Ignoring one of many annoying things about being a woman, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Daddy’s on TV!”

Callie runs in there faster than Usain Bolt, Ellie not too far behind. The girls plop on the living room floor, Callie’s eyes glued to the TV, not wanting to miss a second of it.

Your attention is also glued to the TV, but also elsewhere, even as your fine ass man talks his shit while looking so good doing so. 

You’ve learned a lot in the past week, been through a lot, but one of the major takeaways has been the importance of community. Of family. Alexis has transcended past best friend territory. A best friend doesn’t do what she did, doesn’t take the heat, even if she won’t feel said heat, the way that she did for you.

That’s something a sister would do. 

And while your heart swells at the notion of considering and seeing her as such, having that important conversation with her about what you want her to be in your life moving forward,, it’s also triggered another train of thought.

With change, comes friction, and while that friction can be uncomfortable, it can lead to something beautiful.

Look at you and Joe. Where you started, and where you are now. If you had to, you’d do it all again. It’s just all so worth it. 

So, you decide to pull out your phone as Callie goes crazy seeing Dwayne aka “cousin Maui!” appear on the screen and scroll to your earlier messages. Your thumb hovers over that thread, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation before you decide to power over fear and type out a message

You: hi, bianca. sorry for the delayed response, a lot has happened….  but you’re right. it can end with us. when’s a good time to call you? better yet, can we meet up?

You don’t even bother proofreading it before hitting send, not trusting yourself not to back out.

To say you feel 100% confident with your decision would be an absolute lie. You’re still wary about moving forward, but you owe it to yourself, and Callie, to try. From now on, you only want and need people in your life who want and deserve to be there.

And if…..and if your sister is included in that list, then you owe it to yourself to at least see what happens there.

This is a new season of your life, and you intend to embrace it for all it brings.

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 1

Season 3 picks up a short while after the jubilee speech by Wilhelm. Both Wilhelm and Sara have been absent from school for a noticeable amount of time, so maybe a week or two later? The show isn't very diligent in ensuring a perfect timeline, but this would put us in early March perhaps? Anyway, we're off to the castle for a meeting to deal with the fallout of Wilhelm's speech and Sara reporting the video to the police.

Subtext: The Queen is so pissed she's not even looking at her son, a reversal from the opening to season 2, when Wilhelm was pretty pissed at his mom.

Subtext: This is probably the first time that Wilhelm gets a hint that the Queen is seriously ill.

Cinematography: Same procedure as last season! Every season opens with a fourth wall break where Wilhelm stares in to the camera during the opening titles, defiant as ever.

Culture: For practical reasons the end of season 2 was filmed in April 2022, while the beginning of season 3 was filmed in February 2023. That said, the spring in Sweden can be pretty fickle, and it's not uncommon to have surprise snowfall as late as April. If you want a cinematographic interpretation of this scene, it's supposed to show how cold and unwelcome Simon feels arriving at the royal palace.

Cinematography: In reality, the monarch would be the last one entering a meeting after everyone else has arrived, but having Simon arrive like this makes it look more like he's entering a court of justice or some kind of disciplinary meeting. It's of course not a coincidence that the royal family represented by Jan-Olof is all on one side of the table, while everyone who has been causing them problems is on the other side.

Subtext: Jan-Olof is trying to minimize the video, by using "so-called", and by calling it an intimate video and not a porn video. However, for something to fall under the definition of "revenge porn", it's enough to depict people in an intimate situation, it doesn't have to meet the much higher threshold for when it's considered actual pornography, so he's at least admitting that it was an illegal video.

Culture: Nordiska Motståndsrörelsen is unfortunately a real organization of actual neo-nazi white supremacists in Sweden, with offshoots in neighbouring countries.

Lost in translation: The subtitles are struggling here, it's "piss person" in one, and "shitty person" in the other. The former is literally what they're saying in Swedish, but the latter is probably the better expression in English.

Also, we've been told that August's stepdad, Rickard, is one of Sweden's best lawyers. What that means is that he is probably a well-known criminal defence lawyer, and has probably been handling the defence in high-profile cases, and if you're defending obviously guilty criminals, you tend to get a lot of shit from the media and people in general, even though what you're doing is necessary for a fair justice system. This sounds like his way of dealing with that.

Culture: It's a pet peeve of mine that no-one seems to know that the name of the Swedish currency in English is kronor, not crowns. Simon is getting 1.2 million kronor, which amounts to about 105,000€ or $115,000.

Subtext: Linda isn't wrong, they're being strong-armed here. They have some sort of legal counsel, and they wouldn't have to pay any trial costs even if they don't win, but they can't afford to match the resources that August's stepdad can bring, and might get nothing in the end.

Culture: We don't know what Årnäs looks like or how large the estate is, but a quick check shows that you can buy a typical manor house and some farmland in Sweden for tens of millions of kronor. However, the amount of land that some of the other guys were boasting about at the Society party in season 1 would be worth several hundreds of millions of kronor, so it's unlikely that Årnäs is as large as that, because August would have a lot more options if his total net worth was in that ballpark.

Culture: Realistically, Simon isn't wrong. Even if August was convicted on all points, he wouldn't be sentenced harshly because of his age, because he's a first-time offender, and because it's a non-violent crime. He would most likely just be fined a large amount of money and ordered to pay damages, so settling isn't that bad.

Cinematography: The low winter sun creates some lovely golden light, so we know we're in for some sweet love between the boys. Another detail is the difference in how they're dressed and how they're carrying themselves. Wilhelm is tall and proud, he's at home, he's in a suit, he's sure of himself, while Simon is the guest, the intruder, and is almost shrinking away in his oversized purple shirt and jeans. Yes, yes, colour theory, I know.

Subtext: A nice little flashback to season 1 when Wilhelm said the same thing when he visited Simon's place.

Lost in translation: Simon is actually saying "Var det såhär i din dröm?" - "Was it like this in your dream?", which is a reference to the rather steamy dream Wilhelm had at the start of season 2, when he was lying in this exact bed.

Subtext: Absolutely no-one is fooled, everyone knows our two idiot boys were sucking each other's face a minute ago.

Subtext: Both Linda and the Queen are hearing about their sons' awful behaviour for the first time at this meeting. Linda had no idea Simon had been dealing drugs, and Kristina had no idea Wilhelm threatened August with a gun.

Culture: I have no idea here. There's no real-world example for this in Sweden, you can't put someone into the line of succession by giving them a title. The show is just hand-waving this. Alright. Ok. Fine.

Culture: All adults in the line of succession can be called upon to be acting Head of State, if the monarch is indisposed or on vacation or something. This means that once Wilhelm is 18, he would occasionally have to step in and do the job, even though he's not king yet. If there are no royals available for this, the duty falls to the speaker of the house, Riksdagens Talman.

Cinematography: We're returning to Hillerska after the episode intro at the royal palace, so we're treated to a little montage of what those gosh darn rich kids have been up to in the meanwhile, so here's a horse to remind us that some of them are still riding! This is the only horse we'll be seeing this season, because the show really isn't about Rousseau after all.

Subtext: Madison is doing Tarot, and she's got Three of Wands reversed and Four of Wands reversed. The first one represents obstacles and lack of progress, and the second one represents home conflict, instability, and lack of support. A bit on the nose, don't you think?

Subtext: It's true, but the show is also calling out itself for the somewhat inconsistent weather we've been seeing due to actual shooting schedules.

Culture: Graduating gymnasiet in Sweden has a bunch of elements that are the same pretty much across the country, and then there are regional differences and individual school differences. I recognize only a few of the things Fredrika rattles off, but it makes sense that a place like Hillerska has a ton of traditions.

Subtext: All the girls have noticed that Felice isn't doing too great, but Madison appears to be the only one that actually cares. Fredrika still hasn't stopped talking about all the crap the third-years are gonna do, because that's apparently more exciting. However, the trucks she's talking about are pretty common, this is what we in Sweden call a Studentflak.

@hanna-kin wrote a long post on Swedish graduation traditions, and I reblogged and added some stuff here: https://www.tumblr.com/skamenglishsubs/684659770007961600/its-that-time-of-the-year-again-and-if-season-2

Culture: It seems Minou isn't the head of PR for the royal court anymore, this is Farima, and we've actually seen her all the way back in season 1 when she was instructing Wilhelm to smile more in the photographs. Either way, it seems like she's got a promotion, and she's probably not wrong in her assessment. A bunch of old farts would balk at the idea of the monarch being in a same-sex relationship, but a lot of others would see it is proof that the monarchy can change with the times. There were quite a lot of fans in Team Monarchy after all. 👑🌈

Lost in translation: Linda actually says "Du har utegångsförbud", which means curfew. Grounding kids isn't really a thing in Sweden, to us it's some kind of weird thing that only happens in American teen shows, along with detention. What the fuck even is that?

Subtext: Unlike in season 1, Simon now consistently speaks Swedish at home to his mom, further showing us how distant he is from her, and from himself to some extent.

Lost in translation: Linda actually calls Sara a "hemmasittare", which is a Swedish term used for kids who simply refuse to attend school, typically for mental health reasons. What to do about the problem is a hotly debated political issue, and let's leave it at that.

Subtext: This is how the culture of secrecy and solidarity against outsiders work at schools like this. Everyone is abused, everyone participates in abusing younger students, and everyone is told to shut up about it. Every house guards their "secret" initiations to outsiders, to foster loyalty to each other, to your house, and to the school. It's cult behaviour 101.

Cinematography: The show does it's usual trick with the sound design where all outside noise disappears as Simon and Wilhelm retreat into their little bubble, but there are still people in the frame this time, even though we can't hear them, because this time they're snogging in public. Oh, and everyone needs to update their colour theory, new colours dropped, pink and orange, what does it all mean??!?

Blink and you miss it: The list of activities for the point hunt includes:

Tattoo "Hillerska 4-life" on your arm.

Take a selfie at the back of a police car.

Give someone a buzz cut.

Dance the balloon dance in public.

Sext a teacher.

Get a piercing somewhere.

Blink and you miss it: I love Vincent so much, he's just the worst. Oh, and it looks like he's wearing a $2000 Valentino sweater, but I'm not 100% certain.

Subtext: Neither Ayub nor Rosh agrees with Simon when he says he's gonna reply to idiots online, but unfortunately they're not telling him off, because that would lead to less drama in the season.

Blink and you miss it: Ayub and Rosh are talking about going on a hike to Talludden with their school, Marieberg, which is why we're gonna encounter them out in the woods in the next episode. Spoiler alert!

Subtext: Wilhelm puts up the first stanza of a poem by Karin Boye called The Shield Maiden. In English, the poem goes: I dreamed about swords last night. I dreamed about battle last night. I dreamed I fought by your side armoured and strong, last night.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm's desk has a ton of stuff, but he's also kept the broken frog prince snowglobe, and he's still got Erik's lighter and cigarette case from season 2.

Lost in translation: The comment in Swedish uses the word "bögar", which isn't quite as offensive as "fags". However, it's more offensive than "gays", so I understand why the subtitles went with this choice. It's one of those words that is offensive or not depending on context, and it's certainly offensive in this one.

Subtext: The soundtrack is on point as usual, highlighting the animosity between Wilhelm and August.

Blink and you miss it: Someone ordered a Horse Girl Desk™ from the props department, and they sure delivered all the horsey things! The book is the Swedish edition of Not on a White Horse by Nancy Springer:

From the day twelve-year-old Rhiannon spots a lost white Arabian gelding in the woods near her small Pennsylvania mining town, her life finds a focus as she learns to deal with family problems and decides the direction her life will take.

As you do.

Subtext: As a throwback to season 1, this time it's Sara's turn to make a surprise visit at their dad's. He is surprised and starts cleaning up his place, but he seems to be in better shape than when Simon originally turned up. His place is just messy, there are no signs of drinking and smoking unlike last time we saw him.

Culture: Who goes to New York to suntan? No-one sane, but sun-starved Scandinavians get a bit of cabin fever after a long dark winter.

Culture: Fake IDs aren't really a thing in Sweden, you're allowed to legally drink at 18, and underage kids are much more likely to have an older friend or sibling or alcoholic parent buy them some booze for a private party instead. Sure, they exist, but equipping your friend group with a bunch of fake IDs to go clubbing is not how it's done.

Subtext: Simon drew a heart on Wilhelm's hand and suggested he get that as a tattoo. Wilhelm objected because he's "not allowed to" as a royal, but here he is, redrawing it on himself, almost as if he's toying with the thought, defying the rules.

Subtext: Simon doesn't know anything about the initiations since he's a lowly external student, and even though they're boyfriends, Wilhelm automatically tries to play it down. He knows it's true though, he doesn't question that, he just doesn't want Simon to know about it because it's humiliating to talk about it.

Cinematography: A++ Main Villain Entry Walk.

Culture: The Swedish Schools Inspectorate is a very real government agency that has the very real power to shut down schools that are mismanaged in any way, either academically, or socially.

Culture: Just a quick reminder that every single third-year student is 18 or 19 years old at this point in time, and therefore they are legal adults, which means the school has less authority over them. However, since it's a boarding school, they can enact and enforce regulations for boarders, and kick them out from their houses if they disobey the rules, which effectively kicks them out of the school while technically not doing that.

Cinematography: I love the camera angle here where we just about see Vincent giving Wilhelm the evil eye for indirectly causing this.

As a closing note, this season felt a lot less subtexty to me, compared to previous seasons. On the other hand, a recurring theme now is the airing of secrets, of exposing the systems that create toxic environments like this, so in line with the theme, a lot of characters are voicing things that were left unsaid in previous seasons.

[zeroeightzeroone]

my valentine - han jisung

love collection

genre: soft/fluff

synopsis: y/n and jisungs first valentine's day as a couple

pairings: fem!reader (infp) x idol!han jisung (istp)

notes: i made a pinterest! i'll be making mood boards for this collection and other things i write!

wc ~2.3k | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:

february 14th, also known as valentine's day where lovers exchange gifts with one another to express their affection. but in korea, valentine's day is when the girls express their feelings for their lover or confess their feelings. however, the latter won't know if their feelings are reciprocated until march 14th, also known as white day, a month later. on this day, the men are expected to exchange gifts of equal extravagance to their lover or clarify their feelings to those who have confessed a month prior. 

you and jisung have been dating for a while. the topics of valentine's day and white day have come up, but those conversations are more focused on how those particular days were celebrated in your different upbringings. you are brought up in a more Westernized household where valentine's is expected to be a day where couples exchange gifts. with jisung's upbringing in a korean household, valentine's day being for the boys and white day for the girls. of course, learning about how holidays work and different cultures is always something interesting, another good seed of knowledge. 

regardless of the wisdom you receive from your boyfriend during your conversations, how you two would celebrate those days was never discussed. would you only celebrate valentine's day and exchange gifts on the 14th of february? or would you be giving him a gift on the 14th of february and he to you on the 14th of march? 

with both cases on hand, if jisung does exchange gifts on the same day, then it's just valentine's day, or he gives his gift to you a month later for the white day. you'd be happy with either outcome you just aren't sure which one you'll have, you're also too nervous to bring the topic up to him and make him feel like he has to give you something, where's the fun in receiving a gift that you had to convince them for? a week before valentine's day, you opt to find something for your boyfriend and see the result the day of instead of asking him about it.

…

todays the day.

your social media accounts are littered with couples posting about each other, whether these are on their feed or to their temporary stories. no matter where you turn on the internet, the sudden influx of couple content makes it clearly undeniable that today is the day, it's valentine's day.

it's not even a particularly special day in your relationship with jisung, it's not a birthday or an anniversary, just an international day to celebrate love, and you're still nervous. regardless of those facts, it's the first valentine's day you're celebrating with jisung since becoming a couple officially; that fact overrides the others. 

trying your best to calm your nerves, you're staring out the window as an attempt to distract yourself; reading the names of stores that pass by, the street signs or pondering on anything that catches your eye that passes by. but every single thing leads you back to jisung.

a cafe passes by and it reminds you of the first time you met, should you have gotten something better to pay homage to that?

then a record store. should you have gotten him his favorite records? 

everything that passes by leads you to overthink your valentine's day gift. wondering if you didn’t do enough for your first valentines day together? what if you give it to him, and when you look into his eyes, he hates it, but he's trying to cover it up by smiling like he loves it? what if he thinks your gift is too cheesy? 

the closer you get to the jyp entertainment building, the more thoughts run rampant in your head. when the driver slows down to a stop, going through the necessary security screening before the car park attendant opens the gate, you feel like your mind is going into overdrive. your thoughts are so scattered that you nearly forget to text him to let him know you're here.

you: we're pulling into the underground lot

your leg bounces anxiously as the car park attendant goes back into the kiosk to open the gates. your phone buzzes.

seungmoo: ok give me a second 

did you mention that jisung doesn't know you're coming? 

with the help of seungmin, you planned to surprise him at work today. seungmin helped with arranging for someone from the company to pick you up from your apartment, something jisung always tries to do when you come visit

to ensure your safety. it's also easier for you to enter the building without too much unwanted attention down in the underground lot. seungmin also helped keep an eye on your boyfriend so he could update you on where to go and surprise him.

seungmoo: jisung's in channie's room do you remember where it is or

you: i remember thank you so much again

seungmoo: yeah yeah you owe me

…

your hands are clammy, and your heart is racing as you stand outside chan's room, the faint sound of music muffled by the door that divides you and your boyfriend. you gulp, taking a deep breath before you slowly raise one hand, knocking on the door hard enough to be heard over the music. 

the music stops, and you hear jisung call, "come in!"

your hand moves to the knob, turning it slowly as you open the door just enough to peek your head inside with a sheepish smile. 

jisung jumps in his seat, he's shocked to see you but it's a good surprise–great even. he expected to see one of the company staff or one of the boys when the door opened. instead jisung was pleasantly surprised to see his beautiful girlfriend on the other side. the sight of you has his heart fluttering, unable to bite back the wide smile that pulls on his lips.

"baby! wh– how…"

your boyfriend is giddy as he rushes up onto his feet and out of the rolling chair he’s seated on. he swings the door open to pull you into the room and into his eager arms before shutting the door behind him; immediately, both of his arms are enveloped around you and swaying your bodies back and forth.

“did you miss me or something?” you giggle at how cuddly jisung is being. he doesn’t say anything but he nods his head vigorously.

with a big smile on his face, jisung pulls away to look at you, "you didn't tell me you were coming today!"

"i wanted to surprise you. are you surprised?"

“very! come sit baby,” jisung guides you with his hand wrapped around your wrist, leading you both to sit on the couch pressed up against the wall. 

you’re seated across each other, knees brushing when jisung reaches over to place the spotify pillow in your lap, covering your thighs as your skirt had ridden up the slightest bit when you sat down. his other hand is still wrapped around your wrist, caressing the skin gently as he notices something in the corner of his eye. jisung had been preoccupied with shock at the fact you came all the way to his work to surprise him; he had just noticed the bag you were holding in your free hand. the sight of jisung’s round, brown eyes locked on the bag has your own eyes blinking quickly, hands getting clammy in nervousness once again. 

"whatcha got there?" jisung gestures to the bag.

blinking quickly again, you shift in your seat and clear your throat awkwardly prompting your boyfriend’s attention to shift from the bag to your face. quietly observing you. you retract your hand from jisung’s hold, both of your hands now on the bag and bringing it up into your lap. 

you glance up at him but don’t meet his gaze. 

“i.. uh...” you stammer, “i got you a valentines day gift…”

jisung’s chocolate brown eyes light up. 

“i-it’s not much but… uh… since it's our first valentines together as a couple, i just wanted to get you something.”

you reach into the bag, still avoiding your boyfriend’s gaze, and your cheeks get progressively warmer as you hand him the first gift.

“i got you some chocolates that i know you like, ones you said you liked before, and then some others i thought you might like.”

jisung feels his cheeks flush, listening to you speak and watching you ruffle through the bag's contents. 

“i also got you some of the snacks you like, i’m not gonna take them all out cos i don’t wanna make a mess but…” your voice trails off as you ramble.

you glance up at jisung for a second, wanting to take a moment to gauge his expression before continuing. from that split-second observation, you denounce that jisung doesn’t seem to hate your gifts and give him the last couple of gifts with a lighter weight on your shoulders. 

you extend your arms towards jisung, a small card in your hands, and this time you exchange a small, meek smile. jisung’s eyes dart between the beige card in your hands and your face, your nervous eyes watching his every move when he reaches out with both hands to retrieve the card.

jisung’s eyes graze over the two words printed on the envelope; mon cœur.

“it's a gift card. just in case the jyp cafe goes under construction again and you need your iced americano fix, elsewhere.”

“i don’t care if the jyp cafe is up and running,” jisung declares, “i met the most beautiful girl there. if you’re there, i’m there.”

his words have you flustered, your next words coming out in a sputter, “y-you’re cheesy. b-but that’s it, i’m sorry that i couldn’t get you more–“

“this is amazing,” jisung is quick to cut you off, “the fact you got me anything–period–is so much more than enough.”

your boyfriend brings one hand up to cup your cheek, leaning forward and tilting your lips up to meet his own in a slow, gentle kiss.

“thank you,” he lands a quick peck on your lips, “but…”

when jisung leans back fully, he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, and the gesture, coupled with the sudden ‘but’ makes your heart drop. 

“but?” you squeak. ‘oh no, he’s going to break it to me that he hates it…’ you think to yourself, bracing for the moment he tells you he indeed hates all the gifts.

“but you being here kinda ruined my surprise,” jisung laughs awkwardly. 

his words have your head cocked and brows knit in confusion. jisung moves your gifts off his lap and onto the couch before he rises to his feet, your eyes cautiously following his movements as he bends over behind the arm of the couch across from you. 

when jisung straightens his posture, your jaw drops in awe at the sight.

with a sheepish smile on his face, your boyfriend shifts awkwardly on his feet as he holds a bouquet of flowers in his hands. you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from the bouquet, a beautiful mix of a variety of red hues, along with the dark greens of the flower stems and leaves. 

“i was gonna come and surprise you after work.” 

jisung walks back over to the couch and sits down, outstretching his arms to bring the bouquet closer to you. slowly, your hands come up, brushing over his own as he transfers the flowers into your hands. 

“i wasn’t a hundred percent sure what flowers to get, i know roses are the go-to option, but i also wanted to get something to go along with them.”

your boyfriend explains as he watches the way you observe the bouquet with eyes sparkling in admiration. 

“one of the stylists has a friend that runs a flower shop, and i had some back and forth with the owner to determine what i wanted to get. when i did some research, red roses are popular on valentines day because it symbolizes passion and love–makes sense because its the day for lovers…” 

jisung’s voice is timid as the four-letter word leaves his lips, words that have yet to be exchanged between you two, and he’s apprehensive about saying them too soon, fearing he may scare you off. 

he clears his throat and continues, “the owner then showed me photos of the red flowers he had, and i chose those ones,” he points to the daisy-like flowers, the flowers are a darker red, bordering on a chocolate brown, “they’re chocolate cosmos, which also symbolize love… and the name has chocolate in it which i thought was cute.”

unbeknownst to you, jisung purposely omits a detail he learned when choosing which flowers he wanted in the bouquet. 

florist: [photo attachments] here are the red flowers we have

jisung scrolls through the photos, scanning the flowers through and through–hoping to find the perfect combination with the red roses. the boy stops at one of the last photos, he finds himself particularly drawn to the darker red of these flowers compared to the previous ones.

jisung: [photo attachment] what are these flowers called?

florist: cosmos; typically, they symbolize order, harmony and balance. in korea they are said to mean happiness, romance and youth the ones pictured are chocolate cosmos, chocolate cosmos in particular, means “i love you more than anyone can”

jisung: i’d like the red roses and chocolate cosmos then! i’ll be sure to give ms. choi the money, and we’ll be in touch again around white day! thank you very much! 

with your eyes closed, you take a whiff of the flower bouquet, your senses invaded with the deeply floral and sweet scent of the roses along with notes of vanilla and chocolate from the cosmos. lowering the bouquet down and away from your nose, you open your eyes with a smile, meeting your boyfriend’s warm gaze. 

you say fondly, “happy valentines day.”

jisung tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before responding, “happy valentines day, my y/n.”

[whenyouwishuponastar7]

Hi everyone!

I have to address something that has gone on and is currently occurring. This is the last thing I want to do because I have spent eight years in different fandoms and avoided as much drama as possible. I want no part in it. I want to enjoy my time here.

Unfortunately, this is no longer drama. This is about an individual harming people, their mental health, their safe spaces, their enjoyment of fandom, their favorite ship, and their writing. This is about an individual who chooses bigotry over friendship and will align themselves with bad people for popularity.

And they don’t care who they harm by doing it.

This person made my life a living hell for over five months. It started in August, but things took a turn in October. I was finally free of them in late February because that is when a fandom event ended that tied me to them.

During this event, this person stressed me out to the point of tears. They made passive-aggressive remarks about various things, which made me feel insecure about my fic and writing. They unexpectedly changed their medium and didn’t talk to me about it before they did; I admit I was taken aback, hurt, and short with them. I apologized and took accountability the following day.

From then on, I tried to be as supportive, kind and understanding as possible.

I was “pushy” in December and January because this person had not produced a single finished piece of their art, which would total ten pieces. I knew it was too late in January to get a pinch hitter, and I don’t care that I asked a few times how it was going when I had nothing. I handed them a completed fic on August 28th. They had nothing until mid-January (and almost didn’t make it to this deadline) but didn’t start the bulk of their work until late January 22nd and finished (except polishing and watermarking) on the 26th.

Final submissions were on January 31st.

It took them four days to do what they hadn’t done in five months. I asked if they needed an extension, and we got one because they were not done by the final submission day. I had watched another writer’s artist drop out at the last minute, and mods said they couldn’t find anyone to pinch-hit for them.

This experience was a bad one. I can’t express how shitty it felt. I didn’t write for three months during it, and the fics I’ve written since then aren’t very good. I also have watched my readership disappear—getting the hits and kudos I did before October stopped.

I had a feeling this individual might have been involved if they were talking about me, but I thought I was being paranoid. I still may be, but since this has all happened, I have started to regain readers. I find that interesting.

Anyway! This whole thing ended, and it was bitter for me. I don’t have any more enjoyment in this fandom. I love my ship, but I currently have no desire to write them. I’ve been depressed and I’m scarred from fandom events. This person took away my joy when I only wanted to participate in a fandom event with my friends and have fun.

Because fandom is supposed to be fun, it’s not supposed to do this to people. It’s insane that it does this to people, and I never wanted to be involved in this bullshit.

This person has gone on to enjoy other fandom events, write and produce art, and seems to be doing fine.

Through small but interesting events, I started to learn about this individual’s ‘perspective’ on the entire thing with me. And, hoo boy, it was a fucking ride.

I am still shocked, amazed, flabbergasted and kinda pissed off about how this person lied about me. Everything they said was a complete lie. They shared my DMs via screenshots out of context, warped what we were talking about to play the victim and get sympathy, and flat-out lied numerous times. I have been accused of forcing them to do things during the event when I have screenshot proof that never happened.

For everything this individual accused me of, I provided screenshots to tell the fucking truth.

Two people have told me the same phrasing: they made me out to be a monster.

A monster.

If anyone knows me, my character, they know I’m not a goddamn monster. I try to keep my head down, stay in my lane, play in my sandbox corner, enjoy my ships, and have fun with my friends.

To be called a monster or to have someone say, ‘you’re nothing like they made you out to be,’ is the most surreal moment of my adult life.

This is fiction, fandom; it’s not real, and not everyone makes a living off it. It’s a hobby, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable. Once we step away from our computers and phones, no one knows us as so and so, writer or artist of Ship. Meanwhile, this person is making me out to be the worst human being alive, and it is absolute insanity to learn how deep it goes.

The twists and turns, the lies, the complete lack of reality, the delusion. It’s creepy and disturbing. And, through finding all of this out, I pieced together a pattern of behavior that this individual has:

When you do something they don’t like, they distance themselves, become cold and passive-aggressive, and hold themselves above you. You are no longer of use to them. They dangle their friendship and attention on a lure, hoping you’ll bite, only to throw you back under.

Please understand that this is a dangerous thing—this is not fandom drama—this is a dangerous individual, and the person with whom they choose to spend their time speaks volumes.

I will not share names or screenshots. Screenshots have been shared with the right people, and I will not make it a public spectacle. I also choose to protect the privacy of my friends and others involved in this, of which there are many.

I have been accused of forcing this individual to do things, hating them and their work, being extremely pushy and stressing them out, and that my server was unwelcoming and the people in it were unkind, and various other things. Small things that didn’t mean anything to me were taken extremely personally and made into more lies to make this person a victim.

Such as my preferred formatting for posting my fic links on tumblr. They did not respect it, even though I attempted to respect their formatting for posting their art numerous times earlier, but I was told not to stress about it and, you guessed it—accused of forcing them to change things behind my back. Again, screenshots have been given to the right people.

This individual can delete everything, but we have our proof, as we have been gathering it. We will not publicly share anything, but if this individual decides to, we have the evidence to back it all up.

There were so many creepy and fucked up things that happened. I can’t list them without getting too personal, but please understand this person does not belong in our fandom.

They chase popular people, especially artists, to ‘collect’ them and lie to and manipulate their friends for sympathy. Their friends need to step away and see the light because they are being used—it’s not a real friendship. It is transactional.

And you should be offended. They will cast you aside when you’re useless to them, too.

If I seem mad, it’s because I am. I have been dealing with this since August, when I realized that many of their comments were strange. I didn’t know those were red flags at the time. This individual pretends to be friendly and claims to be ‘the nice one’ when things go wrong so they can keep their reputation. Interactions with them might seem harmless, but looking at them with a different scope makes them something far different.

Don’t ignore red flags or gut instincts.

This is my story, and it is not told exactly how I wish I could tell it. But I know this individual has hurt numerous other people. I was going to make this post without the ability to reblog, but I am leaving it open for now.

If you want to add your story, as I suspect many of you know who I am speaking of, please do. I ask that you avoid telling anyone else’s stories for them unless you have permission. Protect each other.

This stupid shit unites us. I’m not afraid anymore because I’m sick of watching my friends get hurt again and again.

This individual has befriended a known bully and transphobic person. I won’t speak any further on this because it is not my story, but please bear in mind that they chose a TERF over trans friends. And we know what they say about association.

Blindsided victims of this individual are not at fault for this person’s actions.

See something, say something. Terfs and bullies can GET FUCKED.

Share your story.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 45

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Thursday, February 4th; 9:30 AM - Parking.

Lucy revved her car up to the entrance where my mother was waiting for us. She was talking to the elderly lady at the reception, someone I’ve always liked. One of the few here, actually.

"Move to the back."

"What? Why?"

"You’re not seriously going to let your mother sit in the back, are you?"

The back door opened at the same time. Before I had a chance to react, my mother climbed onto the seat and closed the door.

"This is quite a car you have!"

"Thanks," she smiled proudly. "But you don’t have to sit in the back. Ona will give you her seat."

"Oh no! I’m perfectly fine here. And for the love of God, stop being so formal with me! It makes me feel ten years older."

I held back a laugh as I saw Lucy's expression. She definitely wasn’t expecting that response, unlike me. My mother has always been very friendly with my friends, even when we’re not on the best terms. Lucy gave up the battle and resumed driving through the streets of Manchester. On the way, she suggested we take a stroll down a pedestrian street, which seemed to delight my mother. I was pleased as well since I hadn’t had a chance to visit it yet.

"So... How long have you been doing this job?" my mother asked.

"This is my fourth year," Lucy replied. "I was trained for a year. I became independent quickly."

"Is this what you’ve always wanted to do?"

"Oh no," she chuckled. "It’s just a transitional job. My best friend and I are working on a project. We plan to start our own business."

The news caught me off guard, and I had a hard time hiding my surprise. She had never mentioned this to me before. Starting a business is a big deal. It takes a lot of motivation, but I’m not worried about Lucy in that regard.

"In what field?" my mother continued.

"Sports," she smiled. "We’re planning to open a gym with training programs and classes," Lucy explained. "Everything’s starting to come together... If all goes well, this will be my last year at Camp Wiegman."

"What!? Seriously?" I exclaimed, unable to hold back.

Silence fell after my unexpected reaction. It was already a lot to learn about her project, but finding out that this would be her last year? It was a complete shock. Lucy glanced at me briefly with a small smile.

"Sorry for breaking the news this way. We were struggling with the bank, but I just found out a few days ago that our funds to start the business have been released. So, it’s recent news."

"Hum..."

"Oh, don’t look so down. You know what you need to do now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you have no choice but to get your diploma this year. I want us to leave this school together."

"Of course... Things aren’t looking too good right now, though," I muttered.

"Defeatist. Just because you started this second semester off poorly doesn’t mean you won’t get your diploma. I’m going to make you work, just watch. We’ll even start tonight," she announced, making me groan.

"Seriously?" I complained. "Oh crap, speaking of studying! I had exams today and tomorrow!" I realized. "What am I going to do!? Do you think they’ll let me make them up?"

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "That’s good news. We can study the subjects together this weekend."

What did she just say? Judging by the way she stiffened, she seemed to realize her big mistake. There’s no way we’re spending weekends together. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, making me uncomfortable. I noticed her hands tightening on the steering wheel as my mother questioned us.

"This weekend?"

"Wiegman requires me to stay at school when Ona is there," Lucy replied instinctively.

I released the breath I had been holding until then. I had forgotten that Lucy knew how to get out of awkward situations. The best part is, she does it without lying. I immediately backed her up by continuing:

"Bronze knows I struggle with some subjects, so she sometimes keeps me at school to work on my courses together," I said, fully aware that Lucy keeps me without official permission.

"Is that why you don’t come home as often?" my mother asked. "Joan keeps asking about you."

Joan... Oh my God, I’ve completely forgotten about him these past few days! I was so obsessed with my problems that I didn’t even think about my little brother. I felt a wave of regret. I sighed, running my hand through my hair.

"I’ll call him as soon as I can... How is he?"

"He’s fine."

"And the truth?"

I saw surprise in her eyes through the rearview mirror. As if a simple "he’s fine" would satisfy me. I hadn’t checked in on my brother for a month. The least I could do was ask now. Especially since he’s probably been feeling down, not having seen me for a while.

"He’s been having a lot of tantrums since you’ve been gone, and he sleeps in your bed a lot... he misses you terribly. You should come back to Barcelona sometime. This weekend, for example. We’re going away for the weekend with Marcus. You’ll have the house to yourself."

"When exactly are you leaving...?"

"You won’t see me if that’s your question. We’re leaving Friday afternoon and returning Sunday evening."

A small smile crept onto my lips. I discreetly glanced at Lucy, who had the same reaction as me. She must know what I’m thinking. I haven’t set foot in Barcelona for a month since she forbade me because of Feli. It’s about time I went back, and if she can come with me, that would be just perfect. It’s not an opportunity that will come up often.

"It’s not up to me to decide that kind of thing," I simply replied. "As I just told you, Bronze has the final say on my outings. We’ll have to discuss it first."

"We’ll talk about it when we get back," Lucy confirmed. "For now, wipe that silly smile off your face. I haven’t said yes yet. I just told you that you need to study."

"Oh come on! Think about my brother," I said, pulling an adorable pout.

"Playing the puppy dog, really Ona? You should know that’s not going to make me soften up."

I groaned, crossing my arms. She hasn’t said yes, but she hasn’t said no either. So, I still have hope. If it was a no, she would have already said so. Or maybe she’s uncomfortable with my mother’s presence and doesn’t dare say it. That’s one possibility. I can tell she’s not as comfortable as usual.

"Stop it," she growled.

"Stop what? I’m not doing anything."

"Yes, you are. You’re looking at me. It’s distracting me."

I hadn’t even realized it. To annoy her, I kept doing it while leaning against the car door. She furrowed her brow but didn’t take her eyes off the road. I smiled at the sight. Lucy is such a beautiful young woman. I’m lucky to have her. We finally arrived at a red light near downtown, where she took the opportunity to push down on my knee that I had lifted up.

- "Sorry," I mumbled, feeling sheepish.

She sighed softly, engaging the handbrake and shifting into neutral. The traffic lights here always take a while. I’m starting to know my way around this city, having come here so often. She turned slightly to look at me.

- "Just because you're banged up doesn’t mean you’re getting special treatment."

- "Oh, I know that, don’t worry about it, Commander!"

She rolled her eyes dramatically. It's crazy how much I enjoy provoking her. She seems to hate that nickname even more than before. Good to know if I want to tease her. I suppressed my smile at the thought, not wanting to provoke her further.

- "Sorry, I can’t help it."

- "Hmm."

She settled back into her seat as it was time to drive again. I did the same, glancing into the rearview mirror. Bad idea, as I caught my mom’s eyes staring at me with a strange expression. I pretended not to notice and focused on the suddenly heavy traffic.

- "Where exactly are we going?" I asked.

- "To the pedestrian zone downtown. It’s nice to see. There are also some good restaurants if you’re interested."

- "We trust you completely," my mom replied.

Lucy managed to get us out of the traffic jams thanks to her knowledge of the side streets. I should memorize them one day if I plan to live here. Then again, with my sense of direction, I’d probably still get lost. Lucy finally parked in a spot that wasn’t too crowded or too far from where we were headed. I took a deep breath before getting out. Here goes my first mother-daughter moment in ages.

Thursday, February 4th; 12:30 PM - Restaurant.

This morning was full of surprises. I’m still struggling to process it all. Just yesterday, I was on bad terms with both my mom and Lucy, and now, here I am, sitting with them around a table. I expected the morning to be a disaster, but against all odds, it went smoothly. No one brought up any sensitive topics, which was for the best. Even so, it was exhausting. I could have collapsed on the table when we arrived, but I restrained myself to avoid Lucy’s reprimands. For some reason, she kept putting me in my place in front of my mom. I guess she just wanted to assert her role, but her reactions were often over the top.

In any case, I’m glad it’s all over. My mom insisted on going shopping. The street was lined with stores, so she wanted to enter every one that had something she liked in the windows. Let’s just say I’ve never shopped this much in one morning, let alone with my mom. Lucy was probably right in saying that she was trying to rebuild our relationship. She bought me a ton of clothes. I definitely have enough to restock my school wardrobe. I started to enjoy it once Lucy joined forces with my mom. She was lucky to have Lucy help me survive the onslaught. Lucy also gave me her opinions whenever my mom wasn’t looking. The fittings were difficult with my injuries. My abdominal pain was so intense that Lucy had to help me more than once. Luckily, my mom was too busy finding me new outfits to notice.

- "Have you decided what to order?"

We all looked at each other before nodding to the waiter. I settled on a Caesar salad, not feeling very hungry today. Lucy seemed to be on the same page since she ordered the same thing. My mom chose salmon. The waiter jotted down our orders and left.

- "Are you sure you girls don’t want anything else?"

- "I’m not very hungry."

- "That’s surprising, you’re usually always hungry," Lucy teased.

- "Hey! That’s not true!"

- "It is. You’re a bottomless pit," she said, raising an eyebrow.

I stuck my tongue out at her and puffed out my cheeks. She pinched them playfully. Damn, she’s way too adorable.

- "I’m surprised to see Ona so open with you," my mom commented.

- "It wasn’t easy," Lucy replied honestly with a smile. "It started with floor scrubbing and arguments—"

- "Don’t exaggerate," I interrupted. "You just made me  clean a bathroom and some toilets," I retorted.

- "Oh no, scrubbing is the right word," she insisted with a mischievous smile. "I’ve never seen anyone do it so well. Anyone else would have done a sloppy job."

Is she joking? I remember that day like it was yesterday! It was my second day, and she pushed me to the limit by making me clean a locker room after my classes. I didn’t think my work was perfect, but Lucy had stopped me. I thought it was because it was time to eat, but it looks like I was wrong.

- "Don’t make that face. It was a good lesson for you back then. You taught me that you could be very meticulous."

- "You were testing me?" I asked, offended.

- "It was more of an assessment. Anyway," she continued before I could respond, "all Ona needed was a bit of attention, and I gave it to her. It was my job as a supervisor, but I quickly grew attached to her and her story. That’s what built her trust in me."

- "She confided in you?" my mom asked.

- "Yes, mom," I answered myself. "I confided in her."

- "I wanted her to see a therapist for a long time, but if I had known all she needed was a lovely young instructor, I would have changed my approach," my mom joked.

Lucy laughed at her comment, while I found myself embarrassed. A strange feeling washed over me. She’d never been so complimentary about my friends before. And we’d never managed to have such a pleasant time together. If it happened before, I don’t remember. It felt like Lucy’s presence changed everything, and that made me happy.

- "To be honest, I also considered that idea for a while," Lucy admitted once she calmed down. "I mean, about the therapist," she clarified. "But knowing Ona, I knew she would resist, so I didn’t even bother suggesting it."

- "Good thing you didn’t!" I replied. "I’m not sick; I don’t need to see a doctor."

- "No one said you were sick," she rolled her eyes. "It’s just that seeing a therapist might have helped. I sensed you were in a dark place more than once, and it could have done you some good, but whatever."

- "Hmm," I sulked slightly. "Just so you know, I’d much rather confide in you or Mapi than in some stranger in a lab coat."

- "Oh my," Lucy mocked, quickly joined by my mom.

I didn’t understand why they were laughing. Maybe my reaction was exaggerated, but that’s how I feel. There’s no way I’m talking about my problems with a stranger, even though I’ve gotten better about it. Back when I first came back, the idea was unthinkable. I shut down just at the thought of outside help. I barely left my room, so there was no way I was going to venture outside the house. My mom eventually gave up, realizing I wouldn’t change my mind on the matter. I turned to Lucy, who gave me a sad smile. Her sorrowful eyes affected me deeply. I didn’t mean to make her sad, but I’m so relieved that someone finally knows my secret. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but it’s clear it has been placed on hers instead. I hope she’ll be able to process it quickly. Thankfully, the server arrived with our meals, ending our discussion. That concluded the conversation as we wished each other a good meal and began eating. My mom restarted the conversation after clearing her throat.

- "So… this might not be the right time to bring this up, but… I’m curious why you chose management as a class option. I imagine Lucy had something to do with that choice."

- "That’s a slippery slope, mom," I warned. "The last time we brought this up was at Christmas, and it didn’t end well."

- "You didn’t tell me about that," Lucy whispered, making sure only I could hear.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, remembering that I hadn’t mentioned it to her. Mapi wanted me to call her that very night, but I didn’t want to. It was a holiday, and there was no way I was going to bother her with my problems. I hadn’t brought it up again since.

- "I’m not going to judge your choices anymore, Ona," my mom continued. "It was just a simple question because it’s surprising. You were never very fond of math, as far as I remember."

"I didn’t like science either," I retorted. "But if you really want to know, it was a purely strategic choice. Management is always useful. Especially when you want to become independent quickly. »

I feel Lucy’s hand tighten on my thigh. She’s probably afraid I might lose control. She’s probably right, as I tend to snap when it comes to my mother. Her touch instantly calms me and even reassures me. I know I’m not alone.

“You want to go into the art field, don’t you?” she asks me.

“If I may,” Lucy interjects, “I’m the one who encouraged her in that direction. It might be a risky choice, but…”

She pauses for a moment to look at me before continuing with a smile on her lips.

“I would’ve preferred to tell her first, but you’re her mother, so you have the right to know as well… I’ve got a good chance of finding her some support to get started in that field.”

Her announcement makes me choke. I’m not sure I heard her correctly. Lucy helps me as I cough, patting my back and handing me a glass of water. I down it in one gulp to clear my throat, while she discreetly rests her hand back on my thigh.

“I didn’t think it would have such an effect on you,” she laughs.

“What do you mean by ‘support’?”

“I have a friend who knows people in the field. I gave him one of your sketchbooks.”

“You did what?!” I exclaim.

“Oh, listen to me before fixating on that detail,” she scolds. “He passed it on to an expert who thinks you’re very promising! You could thank me instead of complaining.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Maybe in your closet full of sketchbooks?”

She went through my closet… in my room? When? Did she see all the drawings I’ve done in recent weeks? Damn. I blush just thinking about it. I lower my head to avoid my mother noticing. Most of the sketches are of her, or places and landscapes we’ve seen together, from every possible angle. Deep down, I was desperate and just wanted to reconnect with her. My art is always better when my feelings are involved.

“I took the least personal one,” she tells me, tightening her grip on my thigh.

“You saw everything…” I breathe out as if it’s obvious.

I can’t believe it. I would’ve preferred if she had asked me before doing something like that. It’s way too personal. Yet, I can’t even be mad at her.

“What would happen if the professional took an interest in Ona?” my mother finally asks.

“I’m not exactly sure. My friend mentioned mentoring her or possibly helping her get into an art school to refine her skills. The man was very interested and plans to show it to his boss. There’s a good chance they might take her under their wing. Anyway, the most important thing is that she gets a foot in the door so she can start and get noticed.”

I’m still struggling to believe it. If she did all that, it’s to give me a golden opportunity for my future. I don’t know who her friend is, but I’ll have to thank him properly. My mother seems completely understanding of what Lucy is saying. It’s very surprising. I didn’t think she’d take it so well when she’s always preferred me to follow in her footsteps.

“I guess if it works out, she’ll stay here?”

“It’s up to her to decide…”

“I’m likely to stay here in almost any case, Mom. I like it here, and my new friends all have plans to settle down here. It’ll be my fresh start. It’s what you wanted, right?”

I’ve never been so clear about what I want for my future as I am today. The others talk about it all the time. I already know Alexia will do anything to stay here to be with Jenni. She’s subtly trying to convince her sister to stay too. As for Leah and Alessia, they already live here. Just like Lotte, who lives with her father at the school, along with Patri and Claudia. And then, of course, there’s Lucy. She’s my main motivation for wanting to stay. I’m not sure I want to live with her right away, for fear that things might move too quickly, but I’ll find a way to stay here regardless.

“I guess you’ve already made up your mind…”

“I never said that,” I sigh. “I’m just thinking about it, that’s all. You’re the one who sent me here. I just created the life I like.”

“It’s obvious,” she smiles sadly. “I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. That’s why I want to thank Lucy, who’s surely a big part of that. Especially with her hand on your thigh at this very moment.”

Damn. How did she notice? Lucy was so discreet. She immediately removes her hand, making my mother smile. I don’t even dare look to the side. I’m sure Lucy is just as panicked as I am.

“T-that's not what-, Lucy stammers.

“Oh, come on,” my mother interrupts her. “I wasn’t born yesterday! I already knew about Mapi, if you’re still wondering, Ona.”

I open my mouth to speak, but my mother beats me to it.

“I don’t blame you for keeping quiet. I completely understand why, given our situation, but try not to lie to me again. You tried to be discreet all morning, but your looks and gestures when my back was turned were obvious.”

“I swear I-,” my girlfriend tries.

“You still dare to deny it?” my mother gently teases.

Lucy sighs and finally looks at me. I’ve never seen her like this… So embarrassed? Worried? Her behavior affects me even more than before. She nervously runs her hand through her hair.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll be honest then. I tried to ignore your daughter, but I simply couldn’t.”

“Please, feel free to address me informally. You’ve done so well up until now.”

Lucy grimaces slightly. The situation must be different for her now. I’ve never seen her so uncomfortable. It’s my turn to place my hand on her thigh to reassure her. I thought she would remove it, but she doesn’t. She takes it and intertwines our fingers. I didn’t think we’d have to have this conversation so soon.

“If you want to report me to Wiegman, I’ll accept the consequences, but there’s no way I’m staying away from your daughter.”

I hadn’t even thought of that. I look at my mother with a panicked expression. Would she dare? Her face is unreadable until a small smile appears on her lips.

“That was never my intention. Ona would never forgive me if I did something like that,” she says with a genuine smile. “It’s a beautiful gesture of love, in any case. My intention was just to confirm my suspicions, and it seems I was right.”

Lucy’s grip on my hand loosens slightly. I think her wave of panic has passed. She gently caresses the knuckles she had just been crushing.

“So… I mean, it doesn’t bother you that we’re together…?” I ask uncertainly.

“Why would it? Ona, I know we didn’t always see eye to eye, but I’ve never wanted anything but your happiness, even if you have a hard time understanding that. If Lucy is the one who makes you happy, I’m not going to stand in your way. I should be thanking her for bringing my daughter back.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. She makes me just as happy.”

I don’t know what to say. So my mother knew all along, and I didn’t even realize it. Maybe Mapi told her, or maybe I’m less predictable to her than I thought. We weren’t on good terms, but her opinion still mattered to me. It could have completely torn our relationship apart, which is why I was afraid to tell her. In any case, this conversation was unexpected. Dimples form on my girlfriend’s cheeks as she smiles. I lean in to kiss her, not caring if my mother is watching. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough to convey all my gratitude for facing this with me.

“So, how long have you two been together?”

Lucy and I look at each other for a moment before a small laugh escapes us. It’s probably the tension releasing.

“To be honest… Only since last night,” Lucy admits.

“Oh… I expected it to be longer than that,” my mother says with a hint of disappointment. “And how old are you? If it’s not too intrusive.”

“Mom,” I groan, rolling my eyes.

“It’s okay, Ona,” Lucy giggles. “I’m turning twenty-six this year. I’m older, but it’s never bothered us until now. Ona is very mature for her age… Stubborn when she wants to be, but mature.”

This is the first time she’s ever said that. I didn’t know she thought that about me. She usually calls me a “cheeky kid.” I look at my mother to see her reaction. She just smiles and nods. She doesn’t seem to want to contest it. She was always interested in the people in my life, which is why I was afraid to tell her about my orientation. When I was a teenager, I sometimes brought home a few boys, and that was the only time she asked questions and seemed to care about me.

“It seems you’ve found your rare gem, Ona.”

“I hope so. She scares me sometimes, but otherwise she’s perfect.”

- "Hey!" complains my girlfriend.

- "Sorry, but I used to think of you as a tyrant at first," I admitted.

- "Nice," she mutters.

Our conversation is interrupted by laughter, not from us, but from my mother. We look at her, unsure of how to react. I gently stroke Lucy's hand with a smile.

- "You two are adorable. Since yesterday, you say? You don’t seem like it, given how you act around each other."

- "We kind of delayed things because of me," Lucy admits, briefly glancing at me.

- "You're definitely welcome in Barcelona this weekend, since that's probably what's going to happen," my mom teases us.

- "That wasn't my intention..."

- "But you knew I was going to suggest it," I said. "You're not going to make me beg, are you? She’s giving you her blessing!"

- "And why not?" she raises an eyebrow. "If I'm supposedly a tyrant, you might as well beg."

- "You’re impossible."

- "And you're a fool."

I groan in frustration. I’m sure she would be capable of saying no. I move closer and kiss her on the cheek.

- "I’m sorry for thinking that. You know, of course, that I don’t believe it anymore. Now that you’ve had your apology... Will you come to Barcelona with me? Please?"

- "Hmm... I don't know," she teases with a smirk.

- "My mom is giving you permission to come," I repeated desperately.

Seeing that she only responds with a smug smile, I pout and return to my meal. I have to let go of her hand to pick up my fork, which doesn’t seem to please her. But I don't like being teased this much either. I hope she won’t refuse to let me go home if she decides not to come. My priority is to see Joan now. I wouldn’t want her to be mad at me for forgetting him.

- "We’ll talk about it later, okay?" she says more calmly.

- "It’s already decided. Either you come with me, or I go alone," I muttered.

Lucy sighs, catching my attention. I know she won’t let me go alone given the circumstances.

- "Fine. You win."

- "Really?" I asked, more excitedly than I meant to.

- "I suppose, yeah," she says, shrugging nonchalantly. "If I’m allowed," she adds, looking at my mom.

- "I don't see any problem with it. My daughter is an adult; she’s old enough to handle her love life."

- "See! So, you’re coming with me?"

- "Alright, alright."

- "Oh my God!" I exclaimed, jumping into her arms. "You’re the best!"

A sharp pain shoots through me because of my position, but it doesn’t stop me from kissing her cheek repeatedly. I’ve wanted her to see my world for so long. Now, that’s one thing that will finally happen.

- "But I haven't forgotten about your studying."

- "Are you serious?" I groaned. "Can’t you leave your responsible side behind for once?"

- "No. I’m not repeating a year because of you."

- "I’m not asking you to do that."

- "But I’m not letting you repeat a year on your own either. Who knows what kind of disaster that would be. I guess we can study tonight and tomorrow."

- "Good idea. That way we can relax this weekend."

- "That depends on how much you get done."

I roll my eyes as she laughs. Well, she’s right anyway. I didn’t start my second semester off well, and I need to get to work if I want to succeed. Especially after what Lucy just told me about my future. The rest of the meal continues mainly with conversations between my mom and my girlfriend. My mom is very interested in Lucy’s life and, surprisingly, in mine here as well. Maybe we’re finally ready to move forward. I still think Lucy’s presence has a lot to do with it. My mom must really like her. She’s nothing like Feli or my other boyfriends. She’s smart and full of charisma. I’m lucky she chose me as her girlfriend. To think she’s helping to solve all my problems with my mom.

Thursday, February 4th; 4:00 PM - Lucy’s Room.

I smile as Lucy collapses onto her bed just after we enter her room. For a day that was supposed to be relaxing, it was surprisingly busy. We just got back. Lucy kindly offered to drop my mom off at the airport after lunch. They connected immediately. We stayed with her until she took off. My mom took the opportunity to buy our tickets for this weekend. She got three after we discussed it with Lucy. I noticed she was uncomfortable with the idea of coming to Barcelona, so I suggested we bring Ingrid along. I like her, and I’ve heard she’s getting closer to Mapi. It’s a chance to thank her and make up for things.

- "This day was so unexpected," Lucy comments, pulling me out of what must have been an intense stare.

Her smile widens, probably thinking I was watching her. I blush and look away. That’s probably not the best way to prove otherwise, but it was an automatic reaction.

- "Yeah... I-I’m going to call Mapi. I’ll let her know we’re coming to Barcelona this weekend."

- "I think your mom was afraid I’d change my mind, which is why she bought the tickets," she laughs.

- "Probably. She really liked you."

- "Isn’t that a good thing?"

- "I don’t care what she thinks."

She sits down to take off her shoes. Meanwhile, I grab my phone from the nightstand drawer. Lucy tosses her shoes onto the floor, creating a loud noise, before lying back against her pillow with a satisfied sigh.

- "You know, Ona. You can lie to anyone you want, but definitely not to me," she smiles.

- "Alright... Maybe it matters a little."

She giggles and pats the spot next to her. I don’t like that she can read me so well. It feels like I can’t hide anything from her.

- "I expected your mom to be more difficult," she confesses. "She really cares about you, you know."

- "I know," I sighed.

I sit on the edge of the bed to take off my shoes, which quickly join Lucy’s on the floor. As soon as they’re off, I gasp in surprise when she pulls me back.

- "Gently," I grumbled. "I’m still recovering!"

- "Oh, sorry hermosa," she says, freezing me in her arms.

This new nickname from her feels almost strange. She presses herself against my back, burying her head in my hair.

- "Are you okay?" she whispers.

- "Yeah," I sighed.

I turn over, groaning as I move. The painkiller is starting to wear off. But I smile when she kisses my forehead.

- "Are you still in a lot of pain?"

- "It’s manageable," I say, running a hand through my hair.

She looks at me in a way that makes me finally see what she’s feeling. I wonder how she used to hide her emotions so well.

"I’m going to put more cream on you, and you’ll take another painkiller with dinner. That should keep you comfortable through the night. »

- "It's not necessary."

- "Don't argue," she says as she gets up. "You've been complaining about the pain all day, so you're going to let me take care of you."

- "Fine," I relented.

It's hard to argue when she's already in the bathroom getting the cream. I take advantage of her absence to lie down in the middle of the bed and lift my shirt up to just below my chest.

- "I'll take this opportunity to call Mapi, if you don't mind. She's going to give me an earful for not being in touch," I added.

- "Go ahead," she says, straddling me. "I told her I'd allow you to call in the next few days. Maybe you'll be spared since she thinks I was the one keeping you from it."

- "I doubt she believed that," I giggled.

I can't help but look at Lucy with soft, tender eyes. She seems so different from usual. She's much more... open. Maybe I wasn't the most closed-off one between us after all. I must be looking at her strangely, given the way she starts to smile.

- "What? Is something bothering you?"

- "No," I said, blushing. "It's just that you're acting differently."

- "In a good way, I hope?"

- "Oh yes, yes," I stammered.

- "Well... You'd better get used to it... At least in private, of course."

My eyes linger on her hands, now covered in cream.

- "Make your call. She's just waiting for you to do it."

I nod as I dial her number, feeling a slight knot in my stomach. I'm dreading her reaction after my long week of silence. She has every right to be upset with me. The call connects just as Lucy's hands rest on my sides.

- "Wow! A call from my Onita? I thought I was hallucinating. Is it really you?"

- "Hello to you too, Mapi... Yes, it's me," I rolled my eyes.

- "Oh, well it's a good thing it's you. Just so you know, I'm hurt by your radio silence, Ona."

- "It wasn't my fault."

- "Of course. What did you always tell me...? Oh yes, I remember. 'When there's a will, there's a way.' Isn't that right?"

What was I thinking? It was obvious she'd be upset. I close my eyes as a shiver runs through me, thanks to Lucy's gentle touches. It's such a contrast to the harsh, resentful words my best friend just said.

- "If you keep pouting, I'll hang up without sharing the good news."

- "Good news?" she scoffs. "Who am I talking to? Whoever you are, give me back my best friend. She hasn't had good news to share in weeks."

- "Okay, fine, you win. I'm hanging up."

- "Oh, there it is! I think I recognize my Onita now!"

I roll my eyes in amusement as I hear her laugh. There's some commotion in the background, and I frown, realizing she's not alone. It's rare for her to be with anyone since her breakup; she had isolated herself.

- "Who are you with?"

- "Miller and Bryan. They're helping me with a project for class. They send their regards."

- "Oh, that's unexpected. You're not in for an easy time with them. Say hi to them for me too."

- "I have to spend time with people since you're not here. And you'd be surprised. They're actually decent help, against all odds."

There it is, the remark I was expecting. Mapi can be very bitter when she wants to be.

- "I'm sorry, Maps," I say, focusing on my stomach where Lucy's fingers are still working. I'm trying to make it up to her, but she won't let me get a word in edgewise.

I didn't know Lucy was so skilled at massages. It's making it hard to concentrate. My stomach is still covered in bruises, but she's being very careful not to hurt me.

- "Hey, Batlle!"

- "Hmm?" I responded absentmindedly.

- "You sound... quite occupied," she teases. "Maybe I should hang up instead of waiting for your apologies."

- "Sorry," I groaned. "I was just focused on something else."

Lucy chuckles at my response, finally looking up at me. I blush at the thought of what she might be thinking.

- "Oh, and what's so distracting that you're ignoring me, again?"

- "I'm not ignoring you," I rolled my eyes.

- "Hmm... Sure, whatever you say," she mutters. "Anyway, what's this good news? Since you couldn't manage to write to me for a whole week, you better tell me you talked with Lucy."

- "That's actually the good news, sort of," I replied, locking eyes with Lucy.

I bite my lip as I feel Lucy's hands move up my sides, a very sensitive spot for me since I'm extremely ticklish. I wonder if she can hear what Mapi's saying.

- "Explain. You owe me that much, I think."

- "Everything's sorted out. The good news is that I'm coming home to Barcelona this weekend, and she's coming with me."

- "Oh really, yo-... Wait. What!?" she exclaimed.

I smiled, imagining the expression she must have. I'd pay a lot to see it. I can hear the guys teasing her in the background.

- "She just figured it out?" Lucy asks me.

- "I think so."

- "Put her on speaker."

I comply, pressing the button before placing the phone beside us.

- "I assume you're with her? How could you hide this from me? Since when!? It's a disgrace! I’ve been supporting your relationship from the beginning and putting up with your broken hearts! I should have been informed the next hour!"

- "Calm down. It's very recent," Lucy replies.

- "Lucy!" she exclaims in surprise. "No, but seriously! I'm both mad at you and happy for you at the same time. You'd better take care of my best friend, and as for you, Ona, you'd better tell me everything! I want all the details!"

- "There she goes, we've lost her," Lucy jokes. "I don't need your threats to do that, you know," she retorts. "You've already done enough, and I've already had to face Ona's mom's threats."

- "It's thanks to my threats that you're together, in a way. Hey, wait. What did you say? Abby? What's this all about?"

- "It's a very long story," I say just as Lucy applies cream to my bruised eye.

- "You two are so mean to me," Mapi responds. "How dare you hide everything from me, of all people?"

- "We're not hiding anything from you. We'll explain everything this weekend, I promise."

- "Pff, yeah, whatever. It doesn't change the fact that you'd better take care of Ona, or you'll be hearing from me!"

- "Don't worry about that."

I chuckle as Lucy rolls her eyes. She smiles at me before leaning down to kiss me. We must not be very discreet because it triggers a disgusted noise on the other end of the phone.

- "Please, don't do that while I'm still on the line."

- "What's wrong, Mapi?" Lucy teases. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

- "Oh yes, but I'd rather not hear your kisses and cuddles. It's depressing for a single person."

- "As far as I know, you won't be single much longer."

- "What do you mean?" I asked. "Since when does Lucy know more than I do?"

- "Since you've been missing in action, duh."

- "Very petty revenge, Mapi. Once again, it's Lucy who didn't want me to text you at night."

- "No, it's not that I didn't want you to. It's just that you needed to sleep earlier, and she preferred being in Alexia's room before."

- "Yeah, whatever. Doesn't matter. Now that I'm here, is what she just said true?"

- "Of course," Lucy answers. "Mapi is just scared to take the plunge with Ingrid."

- "Lucy!" my best friend exclaims. "I thought that was supposed to stay between us!"

- "Oops?"

I giggle as Mapi sighs in frustration. So, she's scared to date my instructor. That's new and very unexpected.

- "You'd better stop stalling, Mapi. Ingrid won't chase after you forever," Lucy tells her.

- "I know," she sighs. "But it's complicated with the distance and all. I'd prefer to talk to her face to face."

- "It's your lucky day because she's coming with us this weekend."

- "What!?"

- "You heard right. I know you told her you'd give her a chance when you saw each other again, so if you want my advice, start coming up with convincing arguments. Ingrid can be a very difficult woman when she wants to be."

- "Wha-"

- "Don't say we never did you a favor. Now, I'd like to spend the rest of this afternoon with my girlfriend, if you don't mind."

- "No, no, wait, please! Don't hang u-"

- "Goodnight, Mapi."

I look at Lucy curiously as she hangs up on Mapi. She's not going to appreciate that. What bothers me more, though, is that Lucy knows more than I do.

- "What did I miss?"

- "Mapi is scared and keeps pushing things back. A bit like me. The situation is starting to frustrate Ingrid, and I just gave her some golden information. She'd better use it because Ingrid can be very unforgiving."

- "Oh... I guess she's afraid to open her heart again."

- "I don't know Mapi well enough to understand her reasons," she shrugs. "She just confided in me because I know Ingrid, and you weren't around."

- "Hmm... I hope things work out for them."

- "I'm sure they will. I said Ingrid was unforgiving, not heartless," she smiles. "She might just make Mapi sweat a little, if you know what I mean."

- "I know exactly what you mean."

I laugh against Lucy's lips as she comes in for another kiss. She doesn't stay long, though, as she gets up to return to the bathroom to put away the cream and wash her hands. Meanwhile, I don't dare move since I'm covered in cream everywhere, and I don't want to risk getting it all over. She comes back shortly after to put away my phone and then lies down next to me again. I smile as she wraps her arms around me. I hope Mapi finds the same happiness I've found. It's the best I can wish for her. One thing is certain, though: this weekend is going to be very interesting.