#final crisis revelations

[somewherefornow]

RENEE MONTOYA/THE QUESTION & HELENA BERTINELLI/HUNTRESS in FINAL CRISIS: REVELATIONS (2008)

[splooosh]

[fighting-these-demons]

Divorce Saga Domon - A Haunted Honk Prequel

Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!

This is an idea for a fic set in an Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.

If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.

If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -

Then go ahead and feel free to:

Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings

and click the Read More below!

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Ended up outlining a completely different fic as a Segway for an explanation instead of making progress on the Royal Flush Haunted Honk AU's Clown Motel Fic like I wanted to but uh....

For y'all's review for the AU: A Prequel Outline - Divorce Saga Domon

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Hey real quick - I'm thinking of maybe changing the timeline to 2 years post canon as opposed to 3 years and change post canon.

The reason being: I had a thought that this scene could either be part if the fic or if it's getting to big then it could be a stand alone tie-in prequel fic as part of this AU but - like

Immediately Post Divorce Domon Needs Space and runs off. As one does. And he runs to Earth because he just wants to Get Lost for a while.

He has Argo smuggle him out to avoid detection.

Argo has Andrew help stow Domon in a storage hanger of a Neo Canadian supply ship that's returning to the US - they have trade often enough and share agricultural resources - which leads to Domon ending up in New York when he hits Earthside pavement.

He's privately worked on his English the last couple of months and after being dropped in New York with a different hairstyle, outfit, and accent he's unrecognizable. 

He considers making his way west to get some solitude in the wilderness, but something about that initial plan feels off now that he's on the ground.

Chibodee is also Earthside for a special series of prize fights aimed at raising charitable appeal for the US in the eyes of Neo Americans.

Domon decides to hit up Chibodee for a fight on a day between matches hoping it'll clear his head and give him the clarity to decide on a course of action. What ends up happening is an unexpected heart to heart via blows and a breakdown.

Domon is happy for Rain and Kyoji, and he knows it's not true; but he feels like he lost a piece of himself when his relationship with Rain fell apart.

Domon's instinct is to run after that but Chibodee knows this city and Domon doesn't hide out for long before Chibodee drags him back to his place to stay and just "Chill out and breathe. You don't have to be anyone but yourself here. You can take as long as you need to find out what everything changing means for you." Friends and teammates stick together.

So Domon spends a few weeks with Chibodee sparring and hanging out in New York. Chibodee does a frankly awesome job at containing his feelings because he's focusing on Domons feelings and being a good friend first and foremost. Whatever he's feeling can wait until after Domon is done going though it.

There's a bit of a twinge in Domon's heart as he leaves that he can't really place.

After he returns to Neo Japan and gets settled back into life with his family, The Dreams start.

They're mainly set in New York. Small things first like noticing Chibodee's smile and his eyes. Then sparring sessions that begin to turn lurid.

He thought these kinds of dreams would stop after he was married.... he doesn't know what to do about this.

I just figure it gives more clarity and sense of time for the journey from Comphet Marriage Dissolution to Feelings to Confession. Idk.

But I got stuck on a bit and then had this thought and needed to get it down before I lost it and it was so long it made sense to make it its own post as opposed to several replies.

The Maize and Clown Motel will probably still be 3 years and change post canon for clarification.

@thedragonchilde @amplexadversary @youreaclownnow

[beeapocalypse]

strikes the i can imagine anything pose. trans woman dallas

[artiststarme]

Steve’s parents kicked him out one afternoon. After being gone for months and ignoring their son, they came home one random day with anger on their mind and words of vitriol on their lips. They spewed hateful slurs and rants of disappointment before warning him to be out before dinner. His pleas and promises fell on deaf ears as they immediately went back to ignoring the son they never wanted in the first place.

But Steve didn’t have anywhere to go. He could have gone to Robin’s but her parents wouldn’t want him there and it would probably be awkward for her. He could’ve hidden in the Wheeler’s basement like El had way back when but he didn’t really want to cohabitate with his ex and her parents. No, it was better to spare everyone the grief of having him around.

It wasn’t a surprise when he found himself at the edge of the quarry. His feet were dangling on the edge and the knuckles on his hands were bruised from fights. With a cigarette between his lips and a beer in his hand, he thought to himself, ‘would it even matter if I jumped?’

It really wouldn’t, would it? He was just a side character in everyone else’s story anyhow. The kids would be fine without him, Robin would move on, and his parents probably wouldn’t even notice. Hopper was gone, the Byers had moved away, and not many people liked him beside them. He wasn’t a friend or a mentor, he was only a bother kept around to protect the kids when the world fell apart. No one needed him around anymore. After that revelation, it wasn’t a will to live that kept him seated on the edge but only a desire to finish his last cigarette.

When the cig was burned down to the filter and his beer was drained dry, Steve stood to his feet and looked into the distance. This was it for him, the end of his story. He lifted his foot and…

He might’ve jumped had it not been for Eddie Munson’s freak antics. The man appeared seemingly out of nowhere with haphazard pulls and tackles. He bodily hurled Steve away from the edge and frantically rambled in a way that would only rival Robin’s word vomit. The comparison confused Steve enough in his forlorn state to be thrown into a smelly van filled with marijuana and screamy rock music.

And when Steve finally caught a glimpse of the man’s long curly hair, ringed hands, and long throat, his mind stopped working.

Did he get kidnapped? Yes.

Did it cause him to have a sexuality crisis amidst everything else? Yes.

Did he eventually get an unexpected boyfriend out of the deal? Also yes.

Perhaps his parents kicking him out was the best thing that could’ve happened to Steve. He moved in with Eddie “the kidnapper” Munson and his parental Uncle Wayne that took Steve under his wing immediately. He evolved from his darkest thoughts and started thinking of the future. And when the Upside Down came around again, he was approaching it from the best headspace he could. Through it all, he had Eddie by his side and he’d appreciate that for as long as he had him.

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

This wonderful little show has come to an end, and I feel compelled to tell folks why I loved it, and why you should watch if you haven't yet. First, a big word of thanks to @isaksbestpillow for providing her excellent subtitles and making this show available to international fans. You can find all seven episodes here, get them while you can!

This drama understands that sometimes we really do want to fuck that old man

I don't know what to tell you, the man is hot. He is kind, patient, and generous, he's a master chef, he has a beautiful home with a garden that he tends himself, he is a loving dog owner, and on top of all that he has a hilarious dry wit. Who wouldn't want to fuck him??

Ishida is an endearing protagonist having a relatable quarter life crisis

Ishida certainly does! Which is a nice little revelation for him in a time when he's already struggling to figure himself out, as it's his first time wanting to fuck a man and his work colleague to boot. Ishida has hit a stumble in his original career choice and is feeling pretty apathetic about his job when he meets Mitsuya and gets his world rocked.

Mitsuya is a weary older man who has been burned

Mitsuya is quite a contrast to Ishida as an older adult who very much has his shit together, but has also survived some deep hurts living as an out gay man and grown reluctant to let people in. He and Ishida both see something in each other that the other needs.

It's a food drama that will make your mouth water

The food Mitsuya makes and serves to Ishida in this show looks so delicious that I had to make sure I was fed before watching each episode. Mitsuya can feel free to bait me with food any time.

Shige is my idol

We get to spend ample time at the neighborhood bar, where Mitsuya's old friend Shige serves drinks and hot goss. Shige is a great mix of the wise elder gay dispensing advice and the mischievous trouble maker who likes to stir the pot. I love him, and this show's understanding of the realities of men their age living out and proud.

Frito is a very good dog

FRITO! I'm not always too hype about pets with prominent roles in my shows, but in this story Frito is an important character and an emotional support to Mitsuya, and often provides impetus for Mitsuya and Ishida to grow closer.

Have I mentioned this show is hilarious

Truly, so funny. I laughed out loud during most episodes. Ishida is a walking comedy show as he flails through life, and the few moments when Mitsuya's dignified exterior cracks will have you howling.

It gave us one of the best dates I have ever seen on my screen

I still think about this date all the time. It was so beautifully written to underscore why this couple fits and how they each meet the needs of the other. Just having seen this one day spent together, it's easy to understand how a life between the two of them would unfold.

This show has a mature and nuanced understanding of relationships

We get deep into the show's perspective on love and romantic relationships via the return of Mitsuya's ex, Kaoru, a plot which the story handles with remarkable grace. I loved the space they gave to Mitsuya's former love and need for closure, and that Kaoru was not treated like a villain. He even got to provide an assist to Ishida!

The main romance feels deep and compelling

All of this adds up so that by the time we got to the finale, I really believed in this romance and why Ishida and Mitsuya needed each other, and the way the show dug into their hesitations and fears around that was so moving. My only regret is this show is short and we can't follow them to keep watching their lives together, but we got what we needed to feel confident in their future. I will miss them.

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. III)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: After so many years of being closed off from the idea of love, you finally allow yourself to feel it freely with Minho.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, swearing

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: A part of this chapter was almost shamelessly inspired by the song that inspired the plot in the first place, Invisible String by Taylor Swift. Also really inspired by my favorite Minho vlog, Lee Know Log 4 🩷

To those who have asked to be tagged in this story: would any of you be interested in being tagged in any new work I post later? Let me know! And thank you for reading and giving me such a great experience posting my writing here for the first time 🩷

← part II ♡ ⟳ part I

You spend the entire flight home processing everything that had happened during the trip; from Minho’s words, to your kisses and touches, to you ultimately acknowledging your own romantic feelings for him. Although it all felt sudden, it had been a long time coming.

As his car stops at the front of your house, Minho steps out and walks with you, your backpack in hand.

“I know you’re scared. I understand that even more now that I know about your past relationships,” he speaks softly as the two of you stop at the front door, “And I want you to know that I’m gonna be patient.”

You nod slowly, although the desire to answer him is still so prevalent in your mind, the words lodged in your throat and yearning to spill out. But you’ve made the mistake of jumping into relationships far too often, always driven by your emotions, and every time, the outcome has been disastrous. You don’t want that to happen with Minho.

So, you settle on a question that has been eating away at you.

“Why do you like me, Minho?”

His face twists into a deep frown before ultimately softening. Carefully placing your backpack on the step leading to the front door, he sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” he assures you, his rough hands touching your shoulders before moving down your arms to entwine with your own. “You don’t even realize how fucking amazing you are, do you? I’d move mountains, fight anyone and do anything if it meant I’d have the privilege to see you smile.”

And, just like that, you feel your lips stretch out into a small smile at his words. He grins at you.

“Just like that. I’d do anything to see that,” he says. “And you take care of your friends simply because you love them, never asking for anything in return. You collect plushies like me, you appreciate the criminally underrated flavor of lemon cake, and you worked at the same convenience store as me, and spilled coffee all over my notebook on the day we met. That’s why I like you; because you’re you.”

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes, so you quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your shoes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around Minho, taking in his scent and reveling in the comforting warmth of his body. Little did he know, you were just as willing to do whatever it took to keep him near you. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead as you break away from his embrace.

“I’ll call you later, okay? Thank you for the trip.”

 

As soon as you step inside your house, Eunha is quick to come running towards you, her hands dirty with flour as she abandons her unbaked cookies on the counter and pulls you into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” she whines, “How will I survive living without you next year?”

You chuckle, watching as her lips turn into a pout.

“I’m sure we’ll suffer equally, if that makes you feel better.”

She fakes a sob, turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Hyunjin is in a crisis, apparently,” she tells you, wiping her hands on her apron. “He called me three times just today to ask if you were back already.”

You let out a sigh. Hyunjin was more often than not either glum or vexed due to his trials and mishaps in finding love. He once joked that you two would end up having to marry each other with how things were going. You dreaded his reaction to the news of Minho soon entering your life in a new way.

“The hotel’s Wi-Fi was a joke, but I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone,” you tell Eunha, who giggles as she cuts her cookies into heart shapes. “What? Why are you giggling like that?” You ask her with a grin, approaching the counter.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I didn’t even think to check my phone,” she playfully mimics your voice, looking up at you, “I’m guessing you had fun, then?”

“I did,” you beam, “It was everything I thought it would be and even more.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Even more?”

“Even more,” you reiterate. “I had so much fun with Minho. I forgot how good it feels to just let go and allow myself to feel what I want to feel.”

Eunha’s lips curl into a small smile. She hums, lowering her head in a feeble attempt at pretending to focus on the cookies in front of her. “And what did you want to feel this weekend?”

“Like maybe I can finally fall in love again.”

Your friend lifts her head, her eyes wide. “Love?” she exclaims, “You, the girl who has spent every day since I met you talking about how love isn’t important, is wanting to fall in love?”

You chuckle at her reaction, shrugging dismissively. “In my defense, I had my reasons. Plus, some things made me change my mind.”

“More like someone,” Eunha teases, and you roll your eyes at her, but a smile spreads on your lips unwittingly. “I’m happy for you,” she beams, “and I think you should definitely fall in love again — not maybe.”

You sprint across the small kitchen space, circling around the counter to wrap your arms around Eunha and squeezing her as she lightly pushes you away, warning you about flour getting all over your clothes, but you don’t mind.

Because you love her, as you’ve learned this past weekend, and you don’t mind the mess when it comes to someone you love.

It’s only as you enter your room that you check your phone, which is filled with notifications from Hyunjin, much like Eunha had said. After ten missed calls, it seems he resorted to simply texting you.

Hyune: hey I know you’re in japan but can you answer the phone? Hyune: I promise I’ll be quick. just wanna talk to you Hyune: hear your voice idk I feel really alone rn and really bad idk lol Hyune: mingyu has his girlfriend over. can you believe they’re still together? Hyune: can you believe he has a girlfriend and I can’t even find someone to give me the time of day lol Hyune: can you believe every date I go to ends with me crying lol Hyune: sorry I’m being annoying and the messages aren’t even being delivered, you’re clearly having fun sorry Hyune: sorry Hyune: guess that’s why nobody can endure me for more than two dates Hyune: have fun 🤍 I love you

You feel your heart ache as you read his messages, answering with an apology. But before you can hit send on your second message, Hyunjin has already replied. 

Hyune: it’s okay. I’m sorry I even sent those in the first place

Me: Stop apologizing Me: You know I love you and I’ll always be here for you Me: Where are you?

Hyune: at my dorm Hyune: staring at the ceiling

Me: I’m coming over

True to his words, Hyunjin is lying on the floor of his dorm’s cramped living room once you open the door. There’s a small canvas propped up against the wall, a myriad of shades of blue forming the shape of a face. Your best friend’s talent never ceases to amaze you, and you have to fight the urge to stand still by the front door for a few seconds simply admiring his new painting.

“Look at this sulking Pisces,” you click your tongue as you approach Hyunjin, who only opens one eye to shoot you a glance.

“I’m in a fragile state and this is how you greet me,” he all but pouts before sitting up as you sit cross-legged beside him on the floor. “How was the trip?”

You shrug. “It was fun. We only had one day to explore the city, so we didn’t do much,” you say simply, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

You don’t want to sit and talk about how much fun you had during a trip when Hyunjin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes are staring directly at you. He was sad, and his sadness was palpable throughout the entire living room — his bitten lips, his painting, his hands covered in dried-up blue paint; everything was dripping in sadness. This was a constant with Hyunjin, but lately it had become even worse. He has an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, but his every attempt at fulfilling this desire is futile for reasons you cannot wrap your head around.

“I like the new painting,” you smile, focusing on the saddened blue face. Hyunjin scoffs beside you.

“It’s fucking terrible,” His hand shoves the canvas face down on the floor. You bite your lip. “Can’t even paint shit I like anymore. Every time I try, it always turns out muddy and sad.”

“What happened?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well I’m pathetic, so it’s still the same old reason. I had a date with this girl on Saturday, but she canceled at the last minute. Texted me something about me being too clingy after she agreed to go out with me, about how she knows she would feel suffocated if we dated.”

You furrow your brows together, anger bubbling up inside your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Hyunjin gave you a forced smile. “She made sure to remind me that it was her, not me, and that lots of women out there like guys like me. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, turning his attention toward his hands before scratching some of the dried paint off. You sigh.

“Hyunjin, she isn’t wrong about that. You know that, right? You’re not the one at fault.”

He scoffs. “Sure seems like it when every date I’ve gone to since starting university has ended up with me being rejected for the same fucking reasons. It’s always me. Too clingy, too sentimental, too emotional,” his voice is almost a whisper as he speaks. He turns to face you again. “Remember how I would stop sleeping with you whenever I liked someone? Wanna know why I stopped doing that? ‘Cause I know it’s not gonna go anywhere anyway, so what’s the point? It never goes anywhere, and then I’m left alone again. Maybe I should just accept it, y’know? Some people are just meant to be alone, and clearly I’m one of them.”

Your anger has now morphed into sadness. You hate the way Hyunjin talks about himself, hate it even more how it seems nobody can appreciate the amazing person he is. Being caring and sentimental is not a flaw, and you pray that he never allows other people’s opinions to sway him into thinking that way. You pray he finds someone who can appreciate these qualities in him the same way you do.

“You’re not alone, Hyune,” you assure him, taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re surrounded by friends who love you so much, and while I know that’s not the type of love you yearn for, it’s still love.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. It’s sudden but not entirely unexpected; the way you and Hyunjin dealt with shitty things in life and unpleasant feelings together had always been through sex, and you knew it always made him feel at least a little better afterward. And so you let him, returning the kiss even as part of you felt wrong doing it when your entire being was consumed with thoughts of only Minho.

As soon as he kisses you, he swiftly pushes you down onto the hardwood floor and hovers over you. Hyunjin’s fingers undo the buttons of your cardigan before slipping under your shirt, caressing your skin as his lips trail kisses down your neck. Soon enough, his body is pressed up against your spread thighs, and you know where this is going — but as much as you want to make your best friend feel better, you cannot bring yourself to do it.

“Hyune,” you softly call out, and he hums against your throat. “We can’t do this.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist. “Mingyu always comes home late when he goes out with his girlfriend. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that, Hyunjin. I just—”

“Do you not wanna fuck on the floor?” He asks, coming up to look at you. He cocks his head to the side. “We can just do it on the couch then, I really don’t wanna have sex with all those pictures of Mingyu and his friends staring at us in our room.”

“Hyunjin, no—”

“It’s not like we never did it on a couch before, stop being dramatic—”

“I’m in love with Minho.”

It comes out before you can fully comprehend what you’re saying, the word love slipping past your lips effortlessly. Hyunjin stills on top of you, his body rigid and tense. 

“Oh,” is all he offers you. You nod slowly, fingers picking at a drop of paint that stained the collar of his shirt.

You whisper, “I really am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I’m not surprised. I just— now you’re leaving me, too.”

You shake your head. It’s ludicrous to you that Hyunjin could imagine that you would ever even entertain the thought of leaving him. Running a hand through his messy hair, you pull him in and press a kiss to his nose. Hyunjin hides his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

“Sorry, that was pathetic. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologizes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just love you so much. I thought we would…”

You furrow your brows as he trails off his words. You thread your fingers through his long hair. “We would…?”

“End up together somehow,” he speaks slowly, his voice muffled, and your heart drops.

Hyunjin harboring these feelings about you was something you would never have imagined. You were certain he was content being your friend and having sex with you only until he found the right person. He went on several dates, after all. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces upon learning about his hidden desire for the future he used to so often joke about: you two ending up together simply because you were each other’s only choices.

“Hyunjin,” you start carefully, “I love you, too. So much. You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. We don’t have to be together romantically for us to be in love, y’know? I realized that just recently.”

You feel him nod his head, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m just sad I won’t have you anymore. I’m gonna miss us so much,” he places a small kiss on your collarbone. “Whenever I felt like I was in a dark pit with no way out, every single time you were there to bring me out of it and make me feel okay again. I love you so much for that.”

And you can only softly smile at his words before your heart shatters all over again as you hear him quietly begin to sob in your skin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, although you know he won’t reply. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. My love for you goes beyond us having sex — that wasn’t even important to me in our relationship. It was just something good on top of something already amazing.” With a slow nod, he lifts his head and gazes at you with red, teary eyes, causing your heart to ache even more. “I’ll never leave you. Ever. I’ll still answer your four hundred three a.m. texts, still let you hide away in my house, still happily listen to you complain about your days, and still hold you when you cry.”

Hyunjin pouts like a child, and your heart swells with fondness.

“Really?” He asks, and you chuckle with a nod.

“Really,” you assure him. “Me being with someone will never change our friendship, or my love for you. I mean, we won’t have sex anymore, of course, but I’ll still talk shit about your roommate with you so I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s tearful expression vanishes, replaced by a small teasing grin. “I am gonna have to jerk off significantly more, so I don’t know about forgiveness,” he jokes.

You push him off you with a chuckle, sitting up as he tries to regain his balance.

“When did this whole thing with Minho even happen?” Hyunjin asks, setting his painting back against the wall. You shrug, buttoning up your cardigan. He hums. “So, are you already together?”

“Not yet,” you say, “but I’m gonna answer him after our class this week. If he fucking lets me, that is. He says he wants to be patient, but I don’t want to be patient. The only thing I wanna be is with him.”

Hyunjin’s whole body contorts as he groans. “Ew, what the fuck? When did you become such a sap?”

As you shove him back once more, you both burst into laughter while Hyunjin stumbles back and spills a mug filled with dirty paint water all over his floor.

The rest of the day goes by with you and Hyunjin painting together, a much broader array of colors and a much happier end result on the canvas: beautiful flowers painted by him standing alongside clumsily drawn hearts, stars, and other doodles painted by you. After signing your name above his elegant signature, you inform him the painting is leaving with you — it’s hanging up on your wall as soon as you arrive home.

Hyunjin is your best friend; it’s been this way for the last two years, and it’s indisputable to you that this fact will remain no matter what happens. As you watch him hunched over your painting, insisting that his flowers could be more detailed — even after you assured him a thousand times that they were perfect — you curse yourself for not realizing how beautiful this love between you two is. You hope he cherishes this love as well, in spite of his desire for the two of you to be together in the future. You know deep down this idea stemmed from his fear of solitude.

You’re not worried about him at all, though. He’s a precious soul, and anyone who fails to recognize that doesn’t deserve him. He’s simply getting rid of the wrong people in order to find the right person, someone who sees him as you do.

The love you feel for Hyunjin is unchanging, and if you had any say in it, it would be everlasting.

Your next Japanese class with Minho comes too soon, and you find yourself unprepared. Every trace of resolve you had after returning from your trip dissipated bit by bit every time you saw or talked to him. As soon as you saw his figure step into the coffee shop on Monday to pick up his usual order, you realized that every single scenario your mind had conjured up fell flat. Minho was beautiful, amazing, breathtaking — he deserved something grand and earth-shattering, not a simple answer from a girl who wasn’t even half as good as he was.

It certainly did not help that he, always true to his words, respected your time. Not once during his coffee trips or your never-ending talks through the phone did he mention the topic. And it was slowly but surely driving you insane.

You bite your lips so much on your way to university you’re sure your lipstick is gone by the time you enter the building, and you’re surprised your poor bag isn’t riddled with holes in the cloth from your insistent picking. You shouldn’t feel this nervous — Minho is the one waiting for an answer, after all. For all he knows, you could be simply building up the courage to let him down gently. But you are nervous. You’re terrified he will listen to your clumsy words and decide he deserves someone better. Or, worse yet, will only realize how undeserving of his love you are once you’re in a relationship.

And you don’t think you can face another heartbreak where you’re left to mend your gashes all alone.

You enter the building with shaky hands, fiddling with the strap of your bag and walking toward your classroom on autopilot as your mind is too busy running over all the ways in which this could go wrong.

All faded, however, once you saw Minho waiting for you in front of your classroom. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his phone, his body wrapped in a cozy-looking black sweater and sweatpants, a keychain of a cat plushie hanging from his backpack matching his phone case. You stop a few feet away from him. He deserves the world, and that terrifies you. Still, his presence alone melts away every ugly word of doubt and every piece of worry inside your body until the only thing you can feel is the swirling of that familiar pinwheel spinning inside your chest.

You greet him with a long hug, hoping he can’t feel your heart beating through your own sweater.

After class, he walks you to work, enthusiastically telling you about the progress he, Chan and Seungmin have made on their game. You nod and hum along to his words, but you can’t, for the life of you, focus on a word he’s saying. All you want to do is tell him you like him — god, you like him so much — but every time you’re close to doing it, the ugly words return and scream that he deserves more than an underwhelming confession on a gloomy, empty street.

You stop walking as you two reach the bench located just far away enough from the hustle and bustle of students on campus, the one where no one bothered you when you sat here by yourself for three years, the one that had oddly become your favorite bench among all the other identical ones scattered throughout your university.

Because it was here that you and Minho had your first real conversation, it was here where you two laughed and gasped at all the little coincidences between your lives, and it was here where you began to build a friendship with this wonderful guy who would unknowingly change you for the better.

It was the perfect place, and you berated yourself for not realizing that sooner.

Minho’s voice calling out your name pulls you away from your thoughts, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you gently toward his body. You hum before colliding against his chest as he chuckles.

“You just stopped walking,” he says, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “I know you hate work, but I didn’t think it was this serious.”

And when you properly turn to look at him, Minho is smiling so beautifully under the somber sky of winter, as if he is the embodiment of sunshine — always glistening and radiating such a comforting warmth no matter how glum the world around him is. And, at the sight of him, you just can’t stop your words. Never mind how gloomy this campus seems or how lackluster your words are — Minho’s presence alone makes everything become golden.

“I like you because you’re you,” you mirror his words at you, “Because you laughed in my face for spilling coffee all over your notebook when I didn’t even know you, because you love coffee just as much as I hate it, and because you believe in silly myths about riding paddle boats together,” You blurt out, words completely unbidden by your brain. Minho’s eyes widened for a beat before slowly turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his lips. You take a deep breath before continuing, the words flowing out of you so quickly you’re worried he won’t be able to understand you, “And you opened my eyes to the love I feel for my friends, which I was so fucking stupid and blinded to. But, most importantly, you taught me that love isn’t bad. It can never be bad because you’re love, Minho. You’re full of love, and there’s not an ounce of anything bad in you. And you make me feel deserving of this love, even though I still don’t understand how I can be deserving of something so beautiful.”

Minho’s arms are pulling you into an embrace before you can process everything you said, and by the time you seem to come to your senses, you realize tears have welled up in your eyes. He holds you close to him silently for a while, his left hand delicately massaging your scalp as you clutch onto the fabric of his sweater as if he might be taken away from you if you let go.

“I like you, too,” he whispers against your hair, and you feel your lips contort into a pout.

“You already told me that,” you grumble. “I just word-vomited my feelings to you and this is all you have to say?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “What else is there to say? I like you so much I don’t think I can put it into words. I might just say something stupid if I talk about it too much.”

You furrow your brows, pulling away from his embrace to face him. “Something stupid like what?”

“Like saying I love you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Yet again, Minho has rendered you speechless. He shakes his head dismissively, a smile still etched onto his lips.

“No need to say anything. I told you it was stupid,” his eyes drift over to the bench beside you two, and his smile grows. “Guess this has to become my favorite bench too.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s cut short by your tears spilling out again. Minho quickly turns to look at you again, his expression shifting into a mixture of happiness and worry for you as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

And as the sun begins to set, the street lights flicker on, casting a warm, yellow glow over everything around you. You cup Minho’s face and press a chaste kiss to his lips, then to his nose, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into an embrace once again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love you yet. I’m sorry,” you apologize, both to him and yourself.

Minho simply hums, kissing your cheek. “I told you I’m patient, because love is patient. I would wait an eternity for the privilege of hearing you say you love me.”

You and Minho have officially been together for almost two months by the time winter break arrives. You’ve done everything couples do, except for two things: say I love you and go all the way. You’ve done every other possible thing — well, Minho has done every other possible thing to you, with you discovering that Minho particularly loves eating you out, often laying on your lap on your couch after work and rubbing his head against your thighs like a cat, humming and sighing until he has your attention before all but begging you to let him go down on you. Whenever you offer to do the same to him, in any way, he immediately turns the offer down, saying he’s satisfied just pleasuring you. It always leaves you with a million questions, as you notice him have to adjust himself in his pants or coincidently go to the bathroom, but you don’t question it.

The two of you also found ways to get around the whole L-word situation. I missed you becoming your go-to phrase for when you want to scream out that you love him, but are still unable to, while he usually just makes you swallow both your words and his own that are lingering inside your mouth with a kiss.

You had fallen into a routine quickly, with you visiting Minho most evenings after your shift to just lay on Chan’s stiff leather couch and watch him work. You two always hang out with his co-workers slash friends for a while before leaving for the night — Seungmin becoming like the pestering but loveable little brother you never had — and you head to your house in Minho’s car before you sneak him into your home so Mrs. Choi remains none the wiser.

Her ‘no boyfriends spending over two days at the house’ rule can’t possibly apply if she doesn’t even know Minho is there in the first place.

And so, he’s been basically living alongside you and your housemates. This outcome was almost inevitable since Minho hates his roommates while you love each other’s company.

You’re now packing your things with Hyunjin, who’s been sitting on your bed for the last half-hour rather than helping you as he’d promised. In the past month, he’s been able to come to terms with the fact that his ideal future with you was nothing but a coping mechanism after a month of sulking every time Minho was around. He deleted every shitty dating app on his phone and now focuses on finding love naturally, recently going out with a girl he met in one of his classes. The first time they met was the epitome of a meet-cute, with her accidentally bumping into him and spilling black paint all over his shirt. It brought back memories of when you first met Minho, and you had high hopes that this time things would work out differently for him. But, judging by the scowl on Hyunjin’s face and his nonstop complaining, you were wrong.

“But, be for real, why did it take her six dates to realize she doesn’t think we’ll work out?” He grumbles, spinning one of your necklaces around his finger like it’s a toy. “I paid for every meal, made sure she got at least two orgasms every time we went out, and she just suddenly decides we won’t work out? Fuck off.’’

You chuckle, closing your suitcase after triple-checking that you packed Minho’s Christmas present and walking over to where Hyunjin is sitting, snatching your necklace from his hand.

“Maybe she liked the free food and orgasms too much to let them go.”

Hyunjin scowls. “You’re saying that’s the only reason she went out with me?” He feigns offense, shaking his head. “I hope Minho’s parents hate your guts.”

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, watching as he bursts out laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how nervous I am.”

“There’s no way they won’t like you,” He assures you, “You’re fucking amazing, not to mention their son loves you. That’s more than enough reason to love you too.”

You clutch the necklace in your hand, humming before turning on your heels to check your drawers for anything you might have missed. Hyunjin using the word love makes you a bit anxious, an unwelcome reminder that you still haven’t been able to overcome this stupid emotional blockage preventing you from telling Minho you love him. The first and only time you’d ever said you loved Minho was that evening at Hyunjin’s dorm, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Without saying a word, you both understand the love that exists between you — it’s unspoken, but deeply felt — and you’re aware of that, but the fear that one day he’ll grow tired of waiting is painfully tangible inside your mind.

When Minho invited you to spend Christmas with his family, you hesitated at first. Meeting your ex-boyfriends’ families had never been so significant. You were a teenager at the time, the implications were different and the stakes didn’t seem as high. This time, it feels as if getting Minho’s parents to like you is indispensable. How will he go on dating a woman his parents deem unfit for him? Especially with how highly he speaks of his mother, you’re sure her opinion of you will weigh on his mind.

You can only hope they love you half as much as you love their son.

The car ride to Minho’s parents’ house was around half an hour.

Half an hour you spent picking at a loose thread on your skirt and overthinking so much your head ached by the time he parked the car. You hated how nervous you were, but Minho’s parents liking you was a non-negotiable. 

After insisting on carrying your own suitcase — just in case his parents might think you’re an overbearing girlfriend if they see Minho carrying your bag for you — the two of you walk up the stairs and into his home. The first thing you notice is how cozy-looking everything is; from the family pictures neatly placed on coffee tables and on the walls, cat furniture and toys mixed in with their actual furniture, down to the fuzzy blankets thrown over the couches.

The second thing that catches your attention is the quietude permeating throughout the house, as well as the fact that the first family member to greet you two is an orange cat.

“Oh, did you miss me this much?” Minho asks in a sweet, singsong voice, similar to how you would speak to a baby. He crouches down to pet the cat, who is now entangling himself between his legs. He introduces you by your name, because Soonie is truly just another family member to him. You chuckle, kneeling next to him and carefully extending your hand toward the orange ball of fur.

“Hello, Soonie,” you speak quietly, afraid you’ll spook him. He eyes you carefully before sniffing your fingers and, ultimately, rubbing his head on your hand. You sigh in relief, petting his fur with a smile.

Minho’s cats liking you was also a non-negotiable.

You place your suitcases in Minho’s childhood bedroom, his parents letting him know they will arrive a little late after going Christmas shopping. Looking around his small room, you smile at all the small things that scream Lee Minho. The pictures of him and his friends back in high school are the first thing you notice, glued to the wall in front of his door lopsided. His thick-rimmed glasses and bowl cut make you smile as you analyze one of the pictures, where he and four other boys hug and smile widely in a karaoke room. Then, of course, his extensive plushie collection sat against a wall to your left — all stacked on top of each other like a mountain — which he proudly shows off to you.

“Y’know, I had to basically fight a little girl at the Sanrio store for this one,” he says, a bit too smugly, while holding a plush of Kuromi dressed in a ladybug costume. “I was sixteen, though, so I think that excuses my behavior. I would never do that nowadays.”

You narrow your eyes, humming skeptically. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Minho just chuckles, meticulously placing the doll back in its place beside the cherry on top of a rather large Pusheen pudding plushie.

“Oh! You have to see my books.” He takes your hand in his, dragging you toward the wall facing his bed. A bookshelf expanding from the floor to the ceiling makes your mouth drop. You hadn’t noticed it before, with it being hidden away in the corner of the room. The bookshelf is decorated with fairy lights — which Minho promptly switches on — and filled with beautiful books, from intricately designed hard covers to intricate sprayed edges, every single book in his collection has something special about it.

He uses a small metal ladder to reach the top of the shelves before handing you a book so thick your wrist almost bends upon grabbing it. It’s a collection of seven Jane Austen novels, all in a gorgeous blue and golden hardcover. You eye the book like it’s a precious jewel, carefully running your fingers over the details engraved on the cover. Beside you, Minho lets out a breathy laugh, stepping down from the ladder and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“You can open it,” he tells you, but you’re still too mesmerized by the book to look at him. “It’s what books are for, whether they’re pretty or not. You have to open it and read it, otherwise they lose their purpose.”

You nod slowly, but remain unmoving. Minho’s hand suddenly rests on top of yours, and he opens the book for you. The page is entirely annotated, with highlighters and thoughts jotted down on pencil in messy handwriting. Looking up at him, you are met by his smile.

“See? The book is fine, the world didn’t end. I have these special editions because I enjoy collecting pretty things, but I always read them,” he explains, “I like when books reflect the emotions I felt while reading them. I annotate, scribble, highlight — I once threw a special edition Stephen King book across the living room and into a wall. There’s an indentation on it till this day.”

You gasp. “Minho, what the fuck?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I know, I know. All book sins in the eyes of many people. But, like I said, that just reflects the emotions I felt while reading that book. I look through any of these pages and I know exactly what I felt at that time of my life.”

You nod, your lips absentmindedly curling into a smile. Minho truly is something else. You skim the page opened before you, reading some of his annotations and laughing quietly to yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

As you close the book, he speaks again, “They’re a bit like people, aren’t they? Pretty and put-together on the outside, but once you really dig in, it’s all a mess and cluster of feelings and passion.”

 

You and Minho spend an hour lounging around the living room, with you meeting his other two cats during that time. Soonie and Doongie’s adoration toward Minho is clear, with both orange cats always rubbing against his leg or tangling themselves in his sneakers by the door as you two cuddle on the couch. Dori, however, remains laid on his cat tree, barely sparing the two of you a glance. Minho jokes that Dori hates him after he left his first mom, even showing you further proof in the form of a video where the gray cat bites his nose while he sleeps.

Upon hearing the key turn on the front door, your heart is quick to jump. Minho’s parents have arrived.

Sitting up on the couch, you gently push Minho away from you. He shoots you a questioning look.

“What? I don’t want them to think we were doing something indecent.”

“Indecent?” Minho repeats with a chuckle. “We were cuddling, not consummating a marriage on this couch.”

You grumble incoherent words under your breath, shrugging. “I know. I just want them to like me.”

“They were more than okay with seeing me cuddle my ex when I was a teen. We’re both adults, I’m pretty sure they won’t think you’re a filthy harlot.”

You gasp, hitting his chest and hissing through your teeth. “A harlot?”

Minho lets out a long, hearty laugh just as his parents walk through the door.

“Oh, there you are!” You hear his mother’s voice call out as soon as she steps inside the living room. You turn to face her and you’re greeted by the same smile you see on Minho’s face every day — they look so similar you have to hold back a gasp. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stand up from the couch and smooth down your long skirt, smiling while she walks toward you. You’re caught off guard when she pulls you into a hug as soon as she’s in front of you, her arms squeezing you as she sighs happily into your hair.

“Mom,” Minho calls out, “You’re scaring her.”

His mom pulls away with a chuckle, her left hand pinching her son’s cheek before resting on your shoulder again. “He’s the one who’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she refutes. “And, god, you’re so pretty! Minho told me you were beautiful, but I just assumed it was the infatuation speaking.”

You feel your cheeks flush at her words, biting back a smile. Minho had talked to his mother about you — had said you were beautiful. You swear if you died tonight, you would die a happy woman.

As his mother steps away from you and into the kitchen, rambling on about how crowded the shopping mall had been, a man comes into your field of vision. He nods courtly before extending his hand, which you shake a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Minho’s dad,” he simply says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Minho has been very happy on the phone since meeting you.”

And with that, he’s off into the kitchen, following his wife. You’re left a bit dazed. Minho truly was a perfect blend of his mother’s appearance and his father’s calm personality. 

Beside you, Minho pulls you into a side hug, his chilly hands caressing your arms. “See? It’s impossible not to love you.”

You freeze for a moment, before relaxing as you realize he’s talking about his parents loving you. You curse yourself inwardly for being so damn emotionally constipated, but let out a sigh of relief nonetheless.

You were worried for so many different reasons — that you wouldn’t measure up to Minho’s first girlfriend, that your personality would be scrutinized until your flaws finally emerged, and that this would be the catalyst for Minho to realize you’re not worth it. Not worth waiting until you can tell him you love him, not worth waiting until you feel like sex isn’t going to just ruin everything between you, not worth the hassle and the chore that is loving someone like you.

But as he walks into the kitchen with you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, like he’s proud to show you off to his parents, the level of reliability he radiates is enough to melt away all the annoying little worries you had inside your head.

Christmas eve comes two days later, and you’re rudely woken up in the morning by the sound of Minho’s voice cursing under his breath as he drops something on the floor by his bed. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and he turns to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kneeling down next to the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight, I think.” His fingers brush your hair away from your face. “I didn’t set an alarm ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake you up, but guess my inability to be quiet did that anyway.”

You chuckle lightly, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you up so early?”

“Gotta start cooking dinner soon,” he explains.

“Already?” You ask, perplexed. You knew he cooked Christmas dinner all by himself every year for his family, but you never conceived just how much work that would be for a single person.

Minho is unyielding despite your best efforts at persuading him to stay and cuddle you for a few more hours, and watching him cook is always oddly attractive to you, so you find yourself joining him in the kitchen, wrapped up in one of his many cat print sweaters.

At first, you simply sit up at one of the counters and watch him, mesmerized and all but drooling at the way he rolls up his sleeves, the prominent veins making his arms look so sexy while doing such a mundane thing like chopping fucking vegetables. Not to mention his hands, so beautiful and big as he rubs the seasoning on something you don’t even care to identify because you’re just too busy thinking about those hands all over your body. Only now do you notice how no real sex for almost two months has really taken a toll on you, what with the way you have to cross your legs just to try and relieve some tension because your mind won’t stop thinking about Minho’s veiny arms caging you against this counter and his big hands—

Minho calls out your name, and you snap out of your fantasies, humming as you reluctantly turn your attention toward his face with a dazed expression. He seems to find it funny, as he chuckles before repeating himself, “I asked if you would like to help. I can teach you some of the easy stuff. Must be boring just sitting there and watching.”

Oh, but it isn’t boring at all.

But you’d never tell him that, so you nod before hopping off the counter and awaiting further instructions. Turns out you’re worse at cooking than you had thought, so you’re relegated to chopping duty, which you hate for two reasons — firstly, chopping vegetables is boring, and secondly, you’re now deprived of your view of Minho as you stand with your back turned to him while he cooks.

It’s around five p.m. when Minho’s mom joins you two in the kitchen, and by that time you’ve done all you could, so you’re back to your spot on the counter. She smiles at you before ruffling Minho’s hair as he closes the oven.

“My baby is such a wonderful cook, isn’t he?” she praises, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I am very boyfriend material, aren’t I?”

You chuckle as you watch his mom carefully fixing his hair which she had messed up, Minho scrunching up his face as she then fixes his wire-frame glasses on his nose.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing your glasses again,” she comments, cupping his cheeks and squeezing before letting go. “You look so handsome.”

“You should thank her,” Minho smiles, turning to look at you, and you shoot him a puzzling look. “Remember on your birthday, when you told me I looked good wearing glasses?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “That’s why I stopped wearing contacts.”

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the words to answer him. You can feel your cheeks dusting pink as his mom coos at the two of you, saying something about young love that has you gnawing on your lips to hold back the silly smile you want to let out.

Minho’s mom leaves the kitchen shortly after, his father calling her from the living room. He takes this as his chance to approach where you’re sitting, hands resting on your thighs before he presses his lips against yours.

“I wanted to look handsome for you. It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He chuckles against your lips, and you simply shake your head, tangling your fingers in his black hair that has now grown past his eyes.

“It’s actually fucking adorable,” you assure him, pulling him into another kiss, one much deeper than the last.

He quickly uses his hands to spread your thighs apart, pressing his body into yours as you wrap your legs around his waist. The effect this man has on you is mindboggling; the mere slide of his tongue against your lips has you shivering. It certainly doesn’t help that you are now in the exact position from your imagination earlier today.

Minho always tasted like your own personal favorite flavor, always deliciously swirling on your tongue whenever you kissed him. He always renders your mind fuzzy and silly as bliss consumes the entirety of your being. You can only imagine how sex with him will feel like, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your worries be damned. You needed him more than you could handle.

But just as Minho pulls you closer to his body — your core dangerously close to his crotch, and sucking on your tongue in a way that has you mewling against his lips — his mother calls out your names, and you two quickly separate, startled as if you were burned. She informs you his grandmother has arrived and you two walk to the living room to greet her. You silently thank the universe for her not walking into the kitchen; the last thing you want is for Minho’s poor grandmother to catch you two making out on the counter like two teenagers.

She is a sweet lady, certainly not as old as you expected her to be, and she always has a smile etched onto her lips stained with red lipstick. You don’t even have to ask to know she is his mother’s mom, as the three of them share the exact same smile you grew to love so much.

You find yourself even more comfortable today, as you help both women set up the table for dinner — his grandma meticulously placing a beautiful lace cloth over the table while telling you about how this was one of her late husband’s first gifts to her when they first moved in together. 

It felt as if you were part of the family.

And as you turn on your heels to grab the fancy silverware from a cabinet, your eyes meet Minho’s gaze. With a smile on his face, he stands by the kitchen door, watching you, and your heart swells with joy.

This was everything you never thought love could be.

Christmas dinner was amazing — as you knew it would be. Minho’s cooking is always fantastic, and pure happiness is written all over his face whenever he was complimented. The way he offers to serve everyone, watching intently as each of you took the first bite before he finally allowed himself to eat as well, his lips upturned into a grin and his ears red as you all hummed and gasped at how tasty everything was. It’s his love language; from the way he carefully and methodically prepares the food, to the way he enjoys watching other people eat more than eating himself. He shows his love through his cooking, you realize, and you smile as you think back to numerous times you woke up in the morning with a beautiful table set with breakfast for you after he spent the night at your house.

You haven’t put it into words yet, but he has unquestionably been showing his love for you through his little actions.

And that’s what you want to do tonight as well.

After watching a cliche Christmas movie with his family, you two are now the only ones awake with you drying off the dishes Minho’s washing. He looks beautiful even now, with his hands clad in neon green dishwashing gloves.

“Minho,” you call out, poking his rib with the plate he just handed you. He squirms with a giggle, warning you to not tickle him. You simply hum, continuing as nonchalantly as you can. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

His hand stills, dropping a knife on the sink as his head turns abruptly to look at you, eyes bewildered. “What? What, and you ask me this now? While we’re doing the dishes?” He sputters, and you grin with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, placing the plate on top of the counter. “I just… really wanna do it. Really want you.”

Minho turns off the tap — at least five knives left ignored at the bottom of the sink — removes his gloves and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, not what I expected to happen on Christmas night, but I’ll take it.”

You both stare at each other for a beat, before inexplicably bursting out laughing. Maybe it’s the sheer suddenness of your request, or the absurdity of the situation you were in when it happened, but you can’t help it.

As you both calm down, Minho pulls you into his arms and informs you that he will have to go out and buy condoms, since he truly wasn’t expecting anything to happen. You don’t fault him, the two months you’ve been together were filled with you all but running away from sex. You couldn’t help it, your brain always dragging you back to that night in Japan, and the way he avoided your gaze in the morning. Although you knew it was irrational, and that he was simply shy, your self-sabotaging skills were too great, and your mind insisted that if you had sex with Minho too soon he would think you were nothing but a slut. That’s what you were told most of your life, anyway, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your brain was almost conditioned into assuming the same.

But Minho had proved time and time again that he was not like the awful guys before him, and that all your worrying was unwarranted and foolish. You were depriving yourself of something you wanted badly out of sheer insecurity and attachment to experiences so far in the past it was almost masochistic at this point.

You insist on joining him on his impromptu trip to the convenience store, only throwing one of his sweaters over the dress and tights you wore for Christmas dinner.

Minho holds your hand as you two walk down the empty street, Christmas lights from the houses and stores making everything seem almost like a movie. You spot the familiar logo from across the street, and Minho bumps his shoulder with you while you head toward the convenience store chain where you both once worked.

“This is actually the exact one I used to work at,” He tells you as you look through a fridge hidden away in the back of the store. “I loved working the graveyard shift. I rang up so many couples awkwardly buying condoms like they were buying hard drugs.”

You chuckle, settling for some pudding you two could share later. “Will that be us tonight?”

He shrugs. “We’re adults, it’s normal to buy these things. Unless you want me to act like I’m buying crack cocaine, then I’d be happy to indulge you.”

You stick your tongue out at him with a light shove, turning to look through the rather lacking options on the condom shelf.

“Grape flavor?” Minho makes a face as he eyes one of the boxes. “Who the fuck would want the artificial taste of grapes when fucking?”

You shrug. “Could be worse, imagine banana-flavored condoms. I think I’d throw up all over your dick.”

“That’s sexy,” He jokes, and you let out a loud chuckle, earning you a look from the only other person at the store this time of night on Christmas eve.

Among your other options are a green glow-in-the-dark condom — which would only make you think of Shrek while Minho fucks you — and a strawberry-flavored one. You decide to play it safe, grabbing a box of plain, thin condoms and placing them in the basket Minho’s carrying.

“Let’s just go for the safest option,” you tell him, “We’ll have plenty of time to play around later if you want, though I’ll go on birth control once we’re back home so we won’t even need them anyway.”

You watch as Minho’s eyes widen for a second, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t short-circuit now. I need you functioning to fuck me.”

“Keep saying shit like that and I’ll be broken before we even make it back to my house,” he states matter-of-factly, and you chuckle, shaking your head at his words. But Minho’s expression remains unchanged. “I mean it. It’s been over a year since I’ve had proper sex. I’m surprised I didn’t combust the second you said those words to me in the kitchen.”

With a chuckle, you pull him to your side and walk toward the cashier. It’s a poor teenage boy, no older than eighteen, clearly bored out of his mind and wishing to be anywhere but here. As he rings up your items, Minho points to his phone that’s resting on the counter.

“That’s Ahri from League of Legends, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up, his eyes sparking with interest. He nods. “I don’t play, but I’m a game programmer, so I know a little bit about it. What’s your rank?”

“Grandmaster,” the boy answers proudly, his face lighting up with a hint of joy, probably for the first time since his shift started.

“Oohh,” Minho gasps loudly, basically hyping up this random boy at the convenience store. You watch the interaction with a silly smile on your face. “And you’re still young, wouldn’t be surprised to see you at World’s someday.”

The boy shakes his head dismissively as Minho hands him his card, but smiles nonetheless. Once he hands you your things, he speaks again, “Are you from around here, hyung? Let me know when you have a game out, I’d love to try it. See if you’re any good.”

Minho raises his brows at the obvious teasing lilt in his voice, lips upturning into a grin. “How about this? I’ll give you the beta code and you can start your career of testing games for money.”

“You’ll pay me?” The cashier marvels at the words, and Minho simply nods. He jots down a code from his phone into a scrap piece of paper on the counter, the boy’s face now a complete shift from the expression he wore when you first walked in, all because of Minho and his ability to be kind and sweet no matter the person or circumstance.

As you head back to his house, only the two of walk along the shy streets as the clock hands turn past midnight. Among all the bad people in this world, you’re indescribably happy that a man as good as him is the one walking beside you down this street, firmly holding your hand.

You arrive home and quietly head straight into Minho’s room. You thank any higher power that might exist for the fact that his room is the only one on the first floor, as you would have to endure your desperate need and desire for him until you got home if it wasn’t. Any of Minho’s family members walking in or hearing you two have sex would make you want to flee the country and change your name.

He joins you after storing your puddings in the fridge, making you jump with his arms wrapped around your waist while you were blankly staring at the pictures on his wall. You sigh, the realization of what was going to happen only really dawning on you now that you stand in Minho’s bedroom, and your mind starts to wander and doubt everything all over again.

“I kind of ruined the mood by asking to have sex, didn’t I?” You ask as Minho places a chaste kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“There was really no mood in the first place,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “We were washing the dishes.”

You roll your eyes, once again more annoyed at yourself than at him. You could only hope that your awful propensity of bringing up these irritating thoughts of yours at the worst possible moments didn’t drive Minho away from you. Could only hope you were worth it in the end.

“I know, it’s just…” You trail off with another heavy sigh. “This guy I dated hated that. Said I should just initiate it instead of asking like it was a business transaction.”

You feel Minho shake his head. “That’s stupid. Why would I think that?” He sounds incredulous, and hearing him say it makes you realize just how asinine that thought really was. “We had to buy condoms, anyway. It’s also good that you’re comfortable asking me that. It’s as it should be.”

And you can only smile, biting back a giggle because of course he thinks that. It’s as if Jane Austen came back from the dead simply to write Lee Minho.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you turn your head to look at him. “You should really stop thinking about… them,” He hesitates, “Your exes, I mean. Stop comparing, assuming everything will be the same and have the same sad ending. You need to let go of that in order to truly heal. I hate how every time I’m good to you, or do the bare fucking minimum, your mind spins it into something being your fault. I hate what they did to you so much.”

You feel your breath get caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill much like they do every time you are faced with this topic. But you hold them in. You don’t want to cry, not right now, not when everything is so perfect with Minho. So, instead, you take in his words. He’s undoubtedly right, and you must force yourself to face this uncomfortable truth.

Slowly, you promise yourself. You smile at him, a silent promise to him, and you know he understands you when he smiles back, his lips pressing a kiss to your lips.

He lets go of you and rummages through his drawers, and you look around once more. His plushie mountain, the pictures of his childhood and high school days. You scrunch up your nose.

“Will it be too weird to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

From where you’re standing, his back turned to you, you can faintly make out the tip of his ears turning red as he runs a finger through his hair.

“Well, not really…” He trails off, “I had sex with my ex-girlfriend here all the time when we skipped school together.”

You let out a gasp. “Lee Minho skipped school?”

He chuckles, closing his drawers and immediately wrapping his arms around you. He’s a lot more touchy since you brought this whole topic up, you notice.

“My parents were always at work, though, so this is my first time doing it while they’re right upstairs,” He explains, bringing his finger up to your lips and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “So we’ll have to be quiet.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, nodding. You know all too well you’ll probably be too quiet. Once again your trauma playing a part in this, the words an old boyfriend harshly spilled about you being too loud and vocal have always been present in your head. Now that you think about it, all these moments and words are like post-it notes stuck to your mind, and you skim through like a student cramming for an exam every day in search of one that applies to your current situation. It was excruciating.

Hyunjin tried his best to change this about you, always assuring you he liked to hear you during sex when he noticed your pursed and bitten lips, and that you should be vocal about what you want and like. But you always settled for nods and quiet hums instead.

Minho presses a quick kiss on your forehead then. “I’m gonna shower ‘cause my hands still smell like onions and garlic after washing them a thousand times,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

As you’re busying yourself looking through Minho’s extensive collection of books, a meow pulls your attention toward the door. It’s Dori, the gray cat you’ve decided is your favorite since it’s the only one you can easily recognize. He stares for a beat before approaching you, and you kneel carefully to stroke his soft fur. You soon find yourself sitting down by the bed with Dori on your lap, purring away as your mind travels to a future in which you and Minho adopt cats of your own, all while living together and making plans for the rest of your lives. It terrifies you slightly to allow yourself to have these thoughts because if things were to go wrong with Minho, this would only be another ‘what if’ that would haunt you.

Another post-it note to your already cluttered-up mind.

But his words from earlier come back to you just as you begin to panic. You have to let go of the past and stop assuming only the worst outcomes are attainable. And so you simply smile at the imagination, letting your mind run wild while Dori falls asleep on your lap, his gray fur all over your red dress.

You and Dori both jump as Minho all but slams the door when he returns, a towel in his hand drying his damp hair. He cringes at the sound, cursing under his breath. Dori leaves your lap, and you stand up with a pout. He definitely is your favorite cat among the three.

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, as if that will compensate for the loud noise. You take in his appearance; a green Christmas sweater and bright red sweatpants. You bite back a smile, because that’s so him.

“Your outfit is doing a great job of seducing me,” you jest, and he shrugs with a cocky grin.

“I know no woman can resist a Christmas sweater.”

He pulls you into him with a hand around your waist, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. You notice he’s more frantic, less careful than he usually is, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as his hands slide up your back. He pulls away, breathless and flushed, and just looks at you for a moment. You can see the shift in his eyes, yearning swimming all over his brown orbs.

Clumsily, he shuts off the lights behind him then switches on the fairy lights adorning his bookshelf, his left hand still firmly clutching your body. Until it suddenly loosens, and you cock your head to the side.

“Okay, you gotta leave,” he says, and you follow his gaze, landing on Dori, who stares up at him almost defiantly. Minho lets out a sigh, opening his door before walking toward the cat and motioning toward the exit as if he will understand him. “Come on, I’ll give you treats later, hm? But you need to leave now, Dori.”

You fail to hold back a chuckle. “Why does the poor baby have to leave? He looks so comfortable snuggled up on the floor.”

“I can’t have sex while Dori watches,” he deadpans as if it were an obvious answer. “It’ll be weird.”

“Minho, it’s a cat. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s still weird! And I…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He’s still facing the door when he blurts out, “I told you, I’m already really fucking nervous ‘cause it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I might not be the best.”

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Minho, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is!” He finally turns to face you. “Remember back in Japan? I came too fast, it was embarrassing. That’s why I never let you touch me.”

You jokingly pout at him. “Thought you just liked eating me out.”

“I fucking love eating you out, but I’m not exactly refusing that you do the same because I want to,” he explains, “I’m just scared I’ll be bad at it.”

You furrow your brows. “Bad at… getting a blowjob?”

Minho’s ears are dusted a light pink, and he throws his hands up. “Well, yes! Back in Japan I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. I don’t know what you like, and I haven’t been with anyone else to know what most people like so…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, I was so nervous that night, you have no idea.”

“You were nervous?” You let out a huff, recalling Minho’s clear shift in demeanor that night. “Looking into my eyes the entire time and pinning me down to the bed, that’s you being nervous?”

His entire face now flushes red, and he returns his gaze toward the door, where Dori paddles out of the room graciously. He promptly shuts the door, locking it this time.

“I was nervous,” He tells you, taking a step toward you. “I kept looking at you ‘cause I couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Felt like you were gonna disappear if I looked away,” His hands cup your face gently, and your lips unknowingly curl into a smile. “And when you looked at me in the morning, all I could think about was how awful I was the night before.”

You have to fight the strong urge to laugh because god, that’s why he was acting shy and avoiding your gaze. You berate yourself for even thinking otherwise, for ever assuming Minho could be like your ex-boyfriends. His words ring even more true than before.

You let out a groan, realizing you two have been putting off having sex for such mindless reasons. When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you simply say, “Minho, we’re both fucking idiots, d’you know that?”

And before he can say anything else or even entertain the idea of overthinking any more, you pull him into a kiss. With a surprised hum, Minho gently pushes you back, and your knees meet the softness of the mattress causing you to fall back into his bed. He climbs on top of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“You still gotta tell me what you like,” he repeats, his lips all but pouting at you. You smile up at him.

“No,” you say simply, pushing his hair back with your fingers as it fell into his eyes. “It’s better if we figure that out together, isn’t it?”

Minho chuckles, promptly pressing his lips to yours, your hand tugging at his hair gently as his tongue glides across your lips, causing a soft whine to slip from your throat before you can stop it.

“I like that,” he says between kisses, “When you make these pretty noises.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and take that as your chance to take the first small step in healing, adding a post-it to your mind, reminding you not to suppress any noise that Minho coaxes out of you tonight.

The atmosphere in his room feels perfect — like heaven, as he would say. The soft yellow glow emanating from his bookshelf made everything seem dreamy; his honey skin looked stunning, and his eyes gleamed like the stars in the sky every time they met yours.

It was undoubtedly so much more intimate and passionate than any other time you had sex before, and you were both still fully clothed.

It was just like what Minho had told you many months ago.

His hands travel through your body until they rest on your back, finding the buttons of your dress, slowly opening each one as his lips trail down your neck, softly sucking on the skin. As he gingerly slides your dress down your torso, you realize that this will be the first time you two see each other naked. Yet, you don’t feel nervous. You want nothing more than to be close to him, with no barriers between you, to finally be tangled with him like the roots on the ground.

Minho unclasps your bra, his gaze unmoving from your chest as he slips the garment off of your skin and drops it on the floor. It’s almost as if you can feel his gaze burning you, your chest tightening and your breath hitching in your throat. He licks his lips, leaning down to wrap them around your nipple, his hand promptly finding your other breast and softly massaging it. You let out a choked gasp, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips stretch into a smile before he softly bites the bud.

“So you like this,” He mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your nipple. “Duly noted.”

You giggle at his words, your hands tangling in his hair once more. His kisses travel up again, from your chest to your neck, until he’s back to kissing your lips. Both of his hands now massage your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his rough fingers and pinching them lightly, causing a rush to spread across your entire body. You feel your arousal trickle down your slit as you grow more desperate.

“Minho,” you call out between kisses, and he hums against your lips. “Do something,” you all but beg him, yearning for some release as you feel the small, unrelenting pulse between your thighs grow stronger with each stroke of his finger across your chest. Your hands now grasp at his sweater, tugging it over his head, the fabric also discarded somewhere on the floor of his room.

Your hands travel over the expanse of his chest, fingertips taking in every inch of his soft skin. Breaking away from his lips, you push him back softly so you can revel in the sight of him; his delicate collar bones, his strong arms, and soft stomach. He’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and you don’t know what you did to be deserving of him.

“Enjoying the view?” He jokes, and you breathe out a laugh, your gaze flying up toward his face — his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed a pretty red.

“Minho, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper absentmindedly, and he smiles at you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“You should see how you look,” he whispers.

His left hand soon slips underneath your dress skirt, fingertips grazing your skin over your tights. You feel goosebumps trickle along your thighs following his every touch, so eager to feel his hands on your skin you’re sure you’ll rip your tights in half yourself if Minho doesn’t get rid of them soon.

He seems to grow as impatient as you, lifting your hips with a strong grip to slide down your dress, tights, and panties off of you all in one go. In no time, you are now laid bare before him, and Minho is swift to trail kisses down your stomach, sloppy and messy, painting your skin with his saliva as his mouth waters at the mere prospect of tasting you.

With a heavy sigh, he stares at your glistening wetness before promptly wrapping his lips around your clit without a warning and sucking, ardently, vulgar sounds filling his small room much like they do every time he eats you out. Always messy, always eager, humming against your pussy and sighing as his eyes glaze over with pure want.

You squirm like lighting has shocked through your entire body. No matter how often you experience the satisfaction of Minho’s lips on you, it always leaves you trembling like it’s the first time. His right hand slides up the expanse of your stomach until it reaches your breast again, his thumb lazily circling your nipple. You purse your lips as his fingers tentatively trail across your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before lapping at it slowly, the small bud swollen and aching.

You’re quick to remember to open your mouth, letting out the heavy sigh that had stuck to your throat as his finger enters you, Minho still licking and sucking your sensitive clit, nipping harshly and making your sigh fade into a whine. Hand tangling in his hair and tugging, you elicit a low groan from his throat, which you feel reverberate through your slick folds.

Your thighs shake as he adds a second finger, and soon a third, thrusting them inside of you and stroking your walls more vigorously than he usually does, as if he somehow also feels your pleasure and needs to lead you to your high as quickly as possible.

Minho’s hand leaves your chest, and you bite back a pout, his fingers now gripping your hips before pushing them up so he can reach deeper. It isn’t long before his fingers drag across the spot inside of you that has your muscles tensing up, a strangled moan falling from your lips at the sensations coupled with the unrelenting feeling of his tongue on your clit. You come undone around his fingers and lips with a harsh tug of his black hair, rutting your hips against his face desperately, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you do.

He laps up your juices as you slowly come down from your high, tongue flicking inside of you and sucking hard before he presses a long kiss to your cunt. Your entire body jerks in response to the overstimulation.

His kisses travel toward your inner thigh, your lower stomach and breasts until he reaches your neck, where his teeth nip at the soft skin, sucking harshly before his tongue soothingly licks at the spot. As Minho positions himself between your thighs again, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind goes hazy for a beat as you feel the thick outline of his cock press against your bare core.

“Minho,” you call out again, your voice significantly more whiny this time around, shaky and breathless, “Wanna taste you.”

He groans against your skin, pressing small kisses up your neck until he ultimately stops against your open lips. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Really want that, too,” he rasps out, voice hoarse as his dark eyes travel across your face. “But I really wanna fuck you. Shit, I need to fuck you so badly you have no idea,” He groans. You feel his length jump at his words as he presses your foreheads together and locks his gaze with you. “That’ll be hard to do if your pretty lips go anywhere near my cock.”

You breathe out a chuckle, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Then get to it,” you simply say.

Minho’s lips curl into a grin. “Will you remember to be quiet for me this time? My baby sounded so pretty coming around my fingers.”

Your cheeks flush, just how loud you were before only now dawning on you. Fuck. Your words get stuck to your throat, your mouth opening but making no sound, so you settle for a nod.

He chuckles. “Good,” he replies with a kiss to your agape lips.

Minho sits up, detangling himself from your body briefly. He reaches for the box on his bedside table, scrambling with the cardboard before clumsily tearing it open and retrieving a condom. It’s only then you notice how his hands are trembling, from nervousness or pure lust. Either way, you find yourself smiling at the sight.

You reach out to run a hand along his arm soothingly, watching with hungry eyes as he tugs at his drawstrings before freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Minho hisses as he rolls the rubber over his length, shaky hands stroking himself one, two, three times, all while you eye him, watching greedily as if you were his own personal captive audience.

He lowers himself once again, hand now sliding across the length of your thigh before gripping the flesh, nails digging into your skin as he eyes you with an almost pleading gaze.

“Can I—”

“Please do,” you answer, almost frantically, before he even has the time to assume you might say no. You inch your thighs apart even more so Minho can slot himself perfectly between them.

Your mouth waters as you catch sight of him gripping his cock once more, tapping it against your swollen clit and eliciting a whine from your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase in his strong arms. Minho’s eyes then find yours much like they did back in Japan, and you know you are done for. His dark gaze once again felt all-consuming — desire and adoration swimming along his brown eyes, looking at you as if he were in a daze. Your grip on his arms tightens as he lazily slides his cock up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your arousal. Minho’s lips fall open as he continues his movements, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your folds almost painfully slow.

He leans in to close the small gap between your lips, before whispering something you can’t quite understand against them.

“I fucking love you,” he repeats himself more clearly, and finally pushes forward, his girth pushing into you as you gasp, feeling as if all the air has been stolen from you.

You aren’t sure if your reaction is due to his words, or the way his cock is working you open so good, or maybe it was a delicious blend of the two. All you know at the moment is Minho, Minho, Minho, your mind foggy as his name rings inside your head like a mantra.

“Don’t gotta say anything back,” he tells you in a breathy voice, “Just want you to know I love— Fuck,” he groans as he is now fully sheathed inside of you, and you clench at both the feeling and the words spilling from his lips. Of course he would choose now to tell you he loved you. “Love you so much, so much I’d do anything for you. Would wage a war with the world if you asked me to…” He babbles, words slipping past his lips like they were the easiest thing for him to say. Like he meant it so deeply, he didn’t have to put any thought into it. His words only die as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Minho pulls his hips back in one swift motion, hands lifting your thighs around his body as he thrusts into you, evoking a rather loud noise from the back of your throat which is smothered by his kiss.

“You take me so well,” he growls against your lips, “We fit perfectly.” He breaks the kiss to look down at where your two bodies are connected. It felt as if you were one, melting into each other little by little the more Minho thrust his cock inside of you. You simply nod, mind even more dizzy with the way he’s already pulling out again before slamming back into you, his pace quickening as he presses you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his skin, crescent moon shapes blooming over the expanse of his honey skin. His eyes still bore into you, hips now thrusting at an unrelenting pace, his small room filled with a cacophony of wet sounds, whines tumbling from your parted lips and curses that almost silently fell from his.

“Gonna come soon,” Minho chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I—”

You silence him with a press of your lips, hands now tangling in his messy hair.

“You’re always so good to me,” you tell him, feeling his cock pulse inside of your walls. “Wanna be good to you too, make you feel good.”

And he simply leans down before kissing you reverently. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the creaking of his bed likely much too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least not at the moment. Not with the way his hand snakes along your hips, rough fingers now rolling delicious circles around your clit while his other palm presses down onto your abdomen, and his cock continuously hits a spot inside of you that has you all but crumbling apart underneath him.

Your mouth falls open, breaking the kiss, his cock twitching inside of you as his body stills on top of you. With furrowed brows and agape lips, Minho comes mere seconds before you reach your high as well, toes curling against his back as you melt onto his cock.

You stay that way for a while — a few seconds, maybe minutes — simply looking at each other as your labored breaths intertwine.

You finally reach up, brushing his dampened hair away from his beautiful eyes that now look at you as if you were the sole reason why the stars sparkle. Minho’s fingers soon find yours, tangling together as he brings your hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You smile.

You love him.

It’s not a realization but rather a confirmation of something you’ve already known all too well and for far too long. You still can’t put it into words, but somehow, you are certain that he knows just as well.

Minho accidentally awoke you in the morning with his habit of slamming his door shut, apologizing as you grumbled at him and insisted you would only accept his apology if he let you give him a blowjob. He laughed, simply pulling you closer to him on the bed as he sat up and you finally gave the most beautiful man you had ever met the head he deserved.

Minho’s parents and grandmother had left to eat at a fancy restaurant, and after lying through his teeth and telling his very distraught mother that you were feeling too sick to leave the bed, you two stayed behind. They didn’t have to know the real reason you couldn’t leave the bed — Minho and his apparent insatiable hunger for you. It was as if something had been awoken inside him now that he had a taste of you, and he had to make up for all the lost time.

You two only leave his room late in the afternoon, the sun setting on the pale winter sky outside his bedroom window. His family would arrive soon, and you needed to get ready for their tradition of opening Christmas presents while watching bad holiday movies.

When Minho followed you when you headed toward the bathroom, you thought little of it. It was only when he began undressing alongside you that panic truly set in.

“We literally had sex, why do you sound so horrified?” Was all he offered you when you asked what he was doing before entering the steamy shower with you.

It was your first time showering with someone, and the fact that it made you so nervous felt almost pathetic. Minho was right; you had sex, and you saw each other naked and sweaty and vulnerable. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it was.

You found yourself too awkward to wash yourself, doing a terrible job at pretending to scrub at your arms as you watched Minho shower like a normal person. He let out a chuckle after rinsing his hair, shaking his head.

“Are you seriously shy? Seriously?” He asked, turning your body around so your back faced him. “The girl who begged to suck my cock just this morning is too shy to shower in front of me?”

You opened your lips to refute him, but your words died in your mouth as you felt Minho’s hand spread shampoo all over your hair. His fingers gently massaged your scalp before placing his hand over your eyes to shield them from the foam as he rinsed your hair. He repeated the process with conditioner, then moved on to wash your body with his almost sickly sweet watermelon body wash. He did it all while humming, making you so relaxed and comfortable that all your silly insecurities dissipated in the air along with the steam from the hot water.

Suffice to say, showering without Minho would now be a sad affair.

You are now sitting on the floor before the television, his family exchanging gifts. Dori purred on your lap, and Soonie bit Minho’s socks, trying his best to remove the fabric from his feet. It’s finally time for you two to exchange gifts, and you’re a bit glad his family seemed to be so immersed in the movie because you know you would combust if you had to explain your gift to them.

“Here,” you hand him an orange box with a black bow. “It’s stupid. Now that I think about it, it’s probably such a fucking dumb gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and Eunha even made one for her sister. I almost stole hers ‘cause it turned out much better than mine—”

“My god,” Minho interrupts you with a hearty laugh, taking the box in his hands and inspecting it. “It’s been a while since you word vomited so much. What the hell did you get me that made you so nervous?”

He pulls on the bow, unraveling it before taking the black fabric in his hands and tying it around your head. He laughs once more, and you roll your eyes.

“Minho, just get to it before I snatch this box from you.”

With one last chuckle, he finally opens the box. He stills as he takes in the notebook, sitting on top of far too much wrapping tissue paper. The cat print cardstock paper was a pain to find, but it’s worth it now as you watch Minho’s lips curl into a smile as his fingers gingerly travel through the cover. It was crooked, a bit too small, and still reeked of bookbinding glue, but it reminds you of the day you met Minho, and that was all you thought about when you decided on this gift.

“You fucking bound me a notebook,” he says, still bewildered.

“Took me a while, but I did say I was gonna do it. I’m a woman of my word.”

Minho looks up at you, his smile reaching his eyes and turning them into the pretty crescent moons you love so much. “I love it,” he beams, hands now squeezing your cheeks as he pulls you into a small kiss. “This and that coffee stained notebook are going on my bookshelf back in my dorm, displayed in all their glory.”

Minho pulls away and reaches toward two small boxes on the coffee table. He clears his throat, handing you one box as he settles the other on his lap.

“I thought of you when I saw this on my Instagram feed,” he simply says, fingers toying with the misshaped bow on top of the box — one very similar to the one on your birthday gift many months ago. “Thought about what we talked about in Japan, y’know, about soulmates.”

You raise a brow at him, quickly undoing the bow on your box as curiosity washes over you. You pick up a bracelet made only of red thread, eyeing it curiously.

Minho retrieves the same bracelet from his own box, putting it on before asking, “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“That myth that a thread connects two people meant to be together?” You question.

He nods. “Exactly. I feel like that was us,” He explains, taking the red bracelet from your hands and slipping it around your wrist before gently tightening the thread. “Feel like all our little coincidences were little threads tying us together until we met.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t bother trying to hide or stop them this time. Grabbing Minho’s hand that stilled around your wrist, you lace your fingers together, admiring your matching bracelets. It could only be fate. Every small detail that aligned and every road you two crossed to reach the place where you are now could only have come to be because fate wanted it to be that way.

Out of every city you could have lived in, every different university you could have chosen to attend, down to every other seat that could have been empty on the day you met Minho — everything fell into place like a puzzle piece, exactly as if a long, invisible string tied you to him and finally decided it was time to pull you together.

Minho’s gentle touch brushes against your cheek as he silently wipes your tears — no words are needed between you two at that moment as he smiles softly at you while you feel your eyes burn from the cry you had held back for so long. And, as if you’re his mirror, you feel yourself smile as his lips upturn into a grin when his gaze shifts to the open window.

“It’s snowing,” he beams. “It’s the first snow of the year, and our first snow together.”

 

You stand in front of Minho’s house, the light snow falling softly and covering your heads in white as he kisses you, only stopping to grumble against your lips.

“Your phone’s going crazy in my pocket,” He pouts, and you furrow your brows. You had already sent your family holiday messages, and your friends were all busy with their own Christmas celebrations, so you were clueless about who it could be.

“Can you check it for me?”

Minho nods, untangling himself from your embrace just enough to reach into his pocket and grab your phone to unlock it.

“There’s like fifty new messages from a group chat. Best Fucking Five?” He chuckles lightly at the name, his chilly breath tickling your cheek.

You, on the other hand, immediately frowned as you heard the name. It’s a long-forgotten group chat with your old friend group from high school. You had all stopped talking a little before graduation, with you especially distancing yourself from them upon realizing their toxic words and reactions to your relationships only served to make you feel worse about yourself. No one bothered to leave or delete the group since it quietly died and had stayed that way for over three years now.

Minho hands you the phone, and you click another notification that pops up as soon as you unlock the device.

The conversation began with your former friend sending a screenshot of one of your ex-boyfriend’s newest Instagram post. You skim through the caption and blanch at the words accompanied by a sonogram picture. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he’s over the moon about it.

And you, for some reason, find yourself laughing so much you have to clutch onto Minho’s shoulder as your stomach starts to hurt.

He shoots you an understandably puzzled look, but you can’t stop the giggles that spill from your lips, so you settle on showing him the screenshot. 

“I got the best Christmas gift tonight,” Minho reads from the screen. “I'm going to be a dad, and the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known is the mother,” he trails off with a questioning lilt, brows furrowing as that had only confused him more.

“It’s one of my exes,” you manage to tell him after catching your breath.

Minho hums, taking your hands and shoving them in his overcoat pocket along with your phone.

“And why did that make you lose your mind laughing?” He asks with a small smile.

“I guess it was the shock, really. It also made me realize just how little I care about him now. All of them, actually. Every time I was broken up with or had my heart broken in some way, it honestly felt like the end of the world,” you explain, “Like my heart would never recover and like I would hate them for the rest of my life. For years I had such a strong ax to grind with them, and that hatred and grudge only caused me harm. It made me hate love, and it made me blame myself.”

Minho nods, pressing his forehead to yours. Around you two, the snow got thicker, and only the distant sounds of children laughing from neighboring houses could be heard throughout the quiet street.

“But it’s different now?”

You smile up at him. “It’s different now, and I only just realized that. These people are no longer people I hate. They’re simply their words and their actions toward me, but they, as people, mean nothing to me.”

Minho smiles and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. This realization makes you feel lighter, like a small part of the weight of healing has been removed from the equation. It’s only you and yourself now; none of them has any power over your emotions anymore.

“Maybe we should send the baby a present,” you joke, and Minho buries his head in the crook of your neck with a chuckle, and you jump as his cold nose brushes against your skin.

“Maybe we should.”

At that moment, in the arms of this amazing man who has helped you more than he will ever know, you realize that love truly isn’t bad. People can be bad, circumstances can be catastrophic, and wrong timing can destroy nearly everything. But love is, at the core of it all, good.

“Minho,” you call out, feeling him hum against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. “I love you,” you say simply.

His smile rivals every pretty thing around you. The first snow, the gleaming Christmas decorations, and even the moon herself pale in comparison to the smile that Minho gives you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, a tangible sense of bliss in his voice, as if he has yearned for a lifetime to finally be able to say those words to you.

You wrap your arms tighter around Minho, and your fingers brush against the red thread that adorns your wrist. It truly feels as if fate had led you to Minho, leaving little clues along the way to make sure you both knew when you finally met. His journey to you had been relatively easy, while yours had been heart-wrenching, but in the end, it had brought you heaven.

If soulmates really are a thing, there is not an ounce of doubt in your being that Minho is yours. More than anything, he taught you that love is present in everything around you. Love is being kind to others like Minho is kind to his family and strangers in convenience stores at midnight. Love is staying up with your best friend while she cries on the couch, not expecting anything in return. Love is the laughter of little kids on Christmas night echoing throughout a neighborhood. Love is also going out on your own, doing something simply because it will make you happy, and being kind to yourself. All this time, you held onto the belief that love is destructive and only leads to sadness, oblivious to the fact that it has surrounded you every step of the way.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

In the end, Minho had always been right.

Love is the most amazing thing in life.

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1, @malunar28replies, @jazziwritesthings, @finchyyy, @bloom-ings, @linocz, @minhochaos, @lastgreatamericandynasty1, @missminhoe, @jungkookies1002, @meanergreener

[cygnahime]

Chronological order (that is, the order in which events allegedly happen) is almost never the best order to start a new fan on a series, if it differs significantly from publication order.

It doesn't matter whether the series is overall good or bad - it doesn't even matter if the first published work is worse than the prequels. Because the difference between a first work and a prequel is not unlike the difference between original and fan work: the prequel, like the fan work, assumes you already know and care about something here.

Box sets of the Chronicles of Narnia that list The Magician's Nephew as book 1 are wrong: a key appeal of that book is finding out that this is how Narnia came to be, a thing that doesn't matter unless you know what Narnia is. The callbackfores like the lamppost growing don't make sense unless you know the lamppost. (Not to mention that reading Narnia in chronological order would involve stopping before the last chapter of LWW to read all of Horse and His Boy.)

Doomed prequels have the double-failure if read first that they are fundamentally classical tragedies: if you don't know the characters are doomed, everything hits differently than it was designed to. Which may still be a good experience! But admit to yourself that you want to study your friend's reactions for science, because you can never feel that way again.

There's also the high chance that the prequels spoil a significant plot twist from the original due to being the story of how that plot twist came about. The potential existence of Crisis Core is a major revelation of Final Fantasy VII (original flavor). (FFVII is a fascinating case study, because the Remake has to reckon with how much of their target audience knows the original.) (And reckon they do!)

Kingdom Hearts Chronological Order is a fun activity to play with your fellow fans, but unless you're filming reactions For The Bit, why would you do that to a friend? Trying to explain the KH series in chronological order is why it has the reputation for being super hard to understand. Do not do this.

[kingofbodyrolls]

when it sinks in (m) | ksj

Life as a mermaid is wonderful, especially when your merman boyfriend, Seokjin, treats you just right. But you’re beginning to recall memories that you don’t think are yours from life on land— from a past life maybe? When you do realize that the memories are in fact your own, the world comes tumbling down around you, questioning your very existence. Are you even a real mermaid?

→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: established relationship → Genres: amnesia romance / fluff / smut / angst / drama / light yandere → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 13.1k → Warnings + triggers: amnesia, memories/visions, betrayal/lying, yandere behavior, controlling, identity crisis, struggling with the concept of ‘home’, drowning, merfolk mating (sex), unprotected sex; breast play, a lot of kissing, oral (male and female), sweet and tender love making, hair pulling, spitting, scratching with nails, gentle aftercare. → Author’s note(1): I finally finished another mermaid story! Only five more to go!!! I really love this universe I’ve created and I can’t wait to explore more for the other members! 💜 → Read on AO3? [link]

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The cool, wet embrace of the sea wraps around your skin like a silken veil, the deep, dark waters beckoning you into their mysterious depths. Your deep purple, scaly tail shimmers with an ethereal glow, catching the faintest glimmers of sunlight that dance like fleeting whispers on the ocean floor. You revel in the boundless freedom of the sea, gliding effortlessly through the currents, your spirit entwined with the rhythm of the waves. The myriad fish that weave around you are your companions, your fellow wanderers in this underwater realm that pulses with life, a world you have called home for as long as you can remember.

You have never set foot on land; the thought is as foreign as the idea of flight to a stone. Up there, beyond the shimmering surface, lies an unknown, a distant world that holds no allure for you. Down here, in the tranquil depths of the sea, you have found your sanctuary, your eternal haven, a place where time itself seems to pause and stretch into infinity.

A flash of shimmery pink darts past your vision, breaking your thoughts with a burst of playful energy. You can’t help but giggle as Seokjin, with his warm chestnut hair, shimmies away, his laughter bubbling up like pearls from the ocean floor. His presence is a light in the dark, a warm current in the cool embrace of the deep. He’s always been like that—playful, teasing, yet so undeniably yours. You catch sight of him as he attempts to find a new hiding spot, but his broad shoulders and mischievous grin give him away, and the chase is on.

Your tail flips furiously, propelling you through the water with the grace of a dancer. Fish scatter in your wake, startled by your swift movements as you close the distance between you and Seokjin. You’re playing hide and seek—believe it or not, two adult merfolk, lost in the joy of the game, the rest of the world fading into the background.

Before Seokjin reaches the cliffside, he turns to face you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He sticks his tongue out playfully, disappearing behind the rocky surface, but when you round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Confusion lingers for just a moment until strong hands wrap around your torso, just below your purple seashell bra, and you’re caught in his embrace. Laughter spills from your lips as he tickles your waist, his head nestled in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. 

“I got you now, huh?” he whispers, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. 

His face nuzzles into the curve of your neck, and the warmth of his breath caresses your skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your entire being. Goosebumps rise in a wave, your body responding to his touch with a sigh of contentment. His plush lips graze your neck, planting soft kisses that trail upward until they find your mouth. His kiss is a tantalizing dance, a slow, deliberate exploration that leaves you yearning for more.

Your eyes close as your hands intertwine, your tails curling around each other in an intimate embrace. You pull him closer, your desire for him an insatiable hunger that swells with every beat of your heart. Time seems to dissolve, the world around you blurring into a sea of blue as you lose yourself in the sensation of his kiss, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally part, your eyes meet, both of you breathless, pupils wide and dark with longing. Your fingers remain laced together, your hearts beating in perfect harmony, a shared rhythm that speaks of a love as deep as the ocean itself. The dance continues, your bodies swaying in the current, moving as one, the world around you forgotten, reduced to the simple, undeniable truth of your bond.

And as you kiss him again, deeper this time, your tongue exploring his, you feel yourself slipping further into the depths of his love, where you could easily lose yourself forever and be content, knowing that in this moment, in this embrace, you have found your home.

When you part once more, his smile, that worldwide handsome smile, beams like the first rays of dawn, and you feel your heart melt in response. He gently takes your hand, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin before bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss. “You know I love you, right?” he whispers, his voice a soft caress that lingers in the water around you.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, the sound light as the bubbles rising to the surface, as his kiss sends a shiver of warmth through you. Your hand sparkles with the ring he gave you—a creamy, lustrous pearl that glows with the promise he made, a symbol of forever. The memory of that moment when he asked you to be his, when you said yes with every fiber of your being, floods your mind, filling you with a love that feels as deep and endless as the ocean itself.

“Hmm,” you hum, your eyes reflecting the love that fills your heart, “I love you too.”

You smile, letting the moment wrap around you like a comforting current, and the once-blurred surroundings now sharpen into focus. Tiny yellow fish dart around with playful energy, their tails wiggling like ribbons in a breeze, while obsidian ones lurk in the wet sand below, their movements slow and deliberate. Schools of silver fish glide by in perfect synchrony, their scales catching the light in a shimmering dance that weaves through the water like a living tapestry. The underwater world around you is a lush, vibrant realm of greens and blues—kelp sways gracefully in the gentle currents, tangles of sea plants flourish with life, some adorned with delicate flower buds that bloom like jewels in the ocean’s embrace. The water, dark but crystal clear, reveals hidden caves and rocky outcroppings, perfect for hide-and-seek adventures, waiting to be explored.

A sudden, gentle touch against your tail startles you, and you turn to see Jungkook behind you, his expression one of playful exasperation. “Hyung! Jimin’s missing again,” he groans, his voice carrying a note of frustration. “Sorry, ___, I didn’t mean to swim into you.” He flashes you a sheepish grin before turning his attention back to Seokjin, not batting an eye at the fact that he interrupted your mating ritual.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, a sigh escaping him like the whisper of a tide. “Last time I saw Jimin, he said he got caught in a net on a boat but managed to escape. Maybe he got caught again?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror, his imagination running wild. “Shouldn’t we help him then?”

Seokjin dismisses the concern with a casual wave of his hand, his confidence unwavering. “Nah, he’s perfectly fine on his own. He’s a grown merman." He reaches for your hand once more, pulling you close, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment.

“If he’s gone for longer than a week, maybe we can look for him,” he adds with a playful tug, drawing you gently away from the conversation. You hear Jungkook muttering something about Jimin’s unfamiliarity with humans and the risk of being discovered, but Seokjin’s calm, easy going demeanor remains unshaken, a quiet reassurance that everything will be alright.

As you swim away together, you take in the vibrant world around you, feeling a profound sense of peace and belonging in the depths of the sea. The worries of the surface world seem distant and insignificant here, where every moment is filled with wonder and the comforting embrace of the ocean. 

You glide alongside Seokjin back to your cove, a sprawling underwater city that rises like a dream from the ocean floor. Tall, castle-like buildings with turrets and spires reach toward the surface, their walls adorned with coral and sea glass, reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of colors. It’s a place out of a fairytale, a sanctuary where you feel truly at home. You smile and wave to your mermaid friends as they swim by, their envious glances not lost on you. Many merfolk admire your relationship with Seokjin, a merman whose heart is as kind as his looks are striking, and their gazes only bolster your confidence. 

As you weave through the swaying kelp towards the cave you call home, red crabs scuttle along the sandy bottom, and the ocean hums with life all around you. Here, in this enchanted realm beneath the waves, you find your true north, your place of peace, and your heart’s deepest joy.

Suddenly, your vision fades to black, and a cascade of unfamiliar images flashes before your eyes, like a distant memory surfacing from the depths of your mind.

You feel the grainy texture of sand between your toes—a sensation both alien and intimate. Toes, an unfamiliar part of you, sink into the soft, white sand as you sit, letting it slip through your fingers like a whisper of time. The sea’s foam caresses your feet, a delicate tickle that brings a smile to your lips as you gaze out at the endless expanse of water. It’s always been beautiful, this vast ocean, a constant in your life, and it always will be. You look back at the shore, where your friends wave and smile, their faces warm and inviting, yet somehow distant.

Then, just as suddenly, the vision dissipates, and the familiar contours of your shared cave snap back into focus. Seokjin’s worried gaze meets yours, his eyes searching your face for answers.

“Are you okay, babe?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

You blink, disoriented, as if waking from a dream that clings to the edges of your consciousness. “Huh?” you murmur, glancing around the cave, feeling a strange, unsettling disquiet. What had you been seeing just moments before?

“Your gaze felt so empty, like your thoughts were far away,” he explains, his brow furrowing with worry. You shake your head, the images slipping from your grasp like water through your fingers, leaving only confusion in their wake.

“I don’t know what happened, but let’s just head home,” you say, squeezing his hand, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his touch. You lead him into the cave, the soothing embrace of your shared space grounding you as you try to shake off the lingering disorientation.

That night, cradled in his arms, you toss and turn, haunted by those enigmatic visions. Your mind conjures images that feel like echoes from another life, flickering in and out of focus like a distant star. In your dream...

You walk along a shoreline, the waves gently lapping at your bare feet, each step a curious mix of exhilaration and strangeness. The sensation of solid earth beneath you is foreign, yet thrilling, akin to the freedom of soaring through water as your feet carry you across the warm sand. The scene shifts abruptly, and you find yourself in a bustling café, the sounds around you muffled as if you were underwater, though you clearly aren’t. You sit at a table with women whose faces are familiar, echoing the earlier vision of the beach. They giggle and smile, their words a blur, and you nod along, smiling in return. Your hand curls around a glass of light brown liquid, the ice clinking softly—a scene both alien and intimately familiar.

You wake with a start, your heart pounding, the remnants of the dream still clinging to you like mist.

Where are you? What was that dream?

You remember the sensation of having feet—of walking, of being human.

“Honey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Seokjin’s voice is soft with concern, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a frown that tugs at your heart. You force a smile to dispel his worry. “I just had a weird dream, that’s all.” 

Because that’s all it was, right? Just a strange dream.

Determined to shake off the unsettling images, you begin your day with a light breakfast, trying to push the dream from your mind. Soon after, you swim out to meet Namjoon, who has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. You had promised to join him on his latest treasure hunt, a quest for crystals, gems, or forgotten relics from the world above. He’s spoken about this adventure countless times, his excitement infectious, and you finally relented, agreeing to accompany him on one of his explorations. As you swim toward him, Namjoon greets you with a soft smile, the anticipation of the day’s quest lighting up his eyes. 

“Hi, ___! Ready for our adventure?” Namjoon’s voice bursts with excitement, his smile as radiant as a child’s on Christmas morning. His baby blue tail flicks with uncontainable energy, the scales catching the light in a playful shimmer.

“Yeah!” you exclaim, matching his enthusiasm as you adjust the crossbody bag slung over your shoulder, prepared to gather whatever treasures the ocean offers.

“Cool, let’s swim,” he says, his voice bubbling with eagerness as he takes the lead, propelling himself forward with powerful strokes. The ocean around you is calm, the water clear and inviting, and as you set off together, you can almost convince yourself that the dream was nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

You swim for what feels like ages, the cool water rushing past you, each movement a blend of grace and strength. As fatigue begins to tug at your muscles, a glimmer of blue catches your eye in the distance. Your heart leaps, anticipation coursing through your veins—finally, you’ve reached your destination. Namjoon’s excitement is almost tangible as he urges you forward, his energy sparking through the water like an electric current.

The sand beneath you is a pale beige, contrasting sharply with the vibrant blue crystals embedded in the rocky surface ahead. It’s breathtaking, a hidden gem in the vast underwater world that you call home. A few curious fish dart by, their scales catching the light as they weave through the water, but otherwise, a profound silence envelops the scene, amplifying its beauty.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper as you take in the mesmerizing sight. You’ve never seen anything like it before, and the wonder of it leaves you momentarily speechless.

“It’s aquamarine,” Namjoon says, his voice filled with awe as he swims closer to the crystals, inspecting them with a reverence reserved for only the most precious discoveries.

You nod, transfixed by the shimmering blue gems. Who would have guessed that your home held such secret wonders, hidden in the depths of the ocean, waiting to be found?

“I want to collect one, just give me a moment,” Namjoon says, his tone both excited and focused as he drops his bag of tools onto the ocean floor, sending up a small cloud of sand. The bag, a cherished relic from one of his many adventures, is always with him. He carefully extracts a few tools, his movements precise and deliberate, as he begins to carve out a chunk of crystal. You watch him work, captivated by the skill and care with which he handles the gem. Once he’s collected a piece for himself, he turns to you, his expression softening as he offers you a small piece of aquamarine.

You accept the crystal, turning it over in your hand. The gem catches the light, reflecting the deep, mysterious blues of the sea. In that moment, it feels like you’re holding a piece of your world’s essence, a tangible reminder of home.

But then, as if pulled by an unseen force, your reality shifts. 

A sudden rumble of thunder jolts you, and the serene underwater scene dissolves around you. Everything sways, and you find yourself on a boat—or perhaps a yacht—gripping the railing with one hand, a glass of crimson liquid in the other. The sky above is dark and foreboding, thick clouds churning with the promise of a storm. Laughter, eerie and out of place, mingles with the sound of thunder, creating a haunting symphony that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Earth to ___!” Namjoon’s voice breaks through the vision, snapping you back to the present. He waves his hands in front of your face, concern etched across his features. Panic surges through you—these aren’t just dreams. They feel tangible, like fragments of another life bleeding into your own. A life that isn’t yours, yet feels disturbingly familiar. You’re a mermaid, never human—or at least, that’s what you’ve always believed. It’s said that mermaids can transform, but you’ve never set foot on land. These visions, these memories, feel foreign, like echoes from another existence intruding on your mind.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. I don’t know what happened,” you stammer, your voice shaky as you try to push away the unsettling experience. He gives you a thoughtful, worried look, his brow furrowed in concern, but then he smiles gently, his fingers curling around yours as he leads you away, guiding you back towards the comfort and familiarity of home.

As you glide through the water, the aquamarine crystal clasped tightly in your hand, the mysteries of your visions swirl in your thoughts like the endless, spiraling currents of the sea. The deep blue around you pulses with a rhythm all its own, yet your mind is elsewhere, drifting through the shadows of these strange, inexplicable memories that seem to tug at the edges of your consciousness.

Back home, you find Seokjin engrossed in his work, as usual, his focus intense as he prepares materials for his students. He’s a revered teacher, imparting the ancient history of your underwater world to the young merfolk with a passion that’s impossible to ignore. You watch him with quiet admiration, knowing how much he loves sharing tales of the past—stories of how Hoseok’s ancestors founded your vast cove, battling fearsome sea creatures to carve out this sanctuary beneath the waves. Hoseok’s lineage runs deep, their legacy woven into the very fabric of your community, making him something akin to royalty in these waters. Seokjin often speaks of how your city has remained hidden from human eyes for centuries, a secret world cloaked in the ocean’s depths. Yet, in recent times, curiosity about the surface has begun to stir among the younger merfolk, despite the elders’ stern warnings about the dangers of being discovered by humans. Though Seokjin shares these stories with a sense of wonder, you’ve never felt the urge to experience life on land yourself. The sea is your home, your heart tethered to its depths.

“Did you have a good trip with Namjoon?” Seokjin asks, glancing up from the worn pages of a book adorned with ancient symbols. His smile is warm, his presence a steady anchor in the shifting tides of your thoughts.

“Yeah, he gave me a piece of aquamarine. Wanna see?” you reply, pulling the small, shimmering crystal from your bag when he nods. He takes it from you, his eyes reflecting the gemstone’s beauty as he admires it.

“It’s as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, handing it back to you with a gentle smile. You place it beside your nest on the rocky nightstand, the crystal catching the light in a way that reminds you of the first moment you saw it.

The days that follow are peaceful, your visions leaving you in a rare state of calm. You fill your time with friends, letting the little mermaids braid your hair as you embark on new adventures. One day, you swim alongside Taehyung, his curiosity and eccentricity leading you to explore the ocean’s forgotten treasures—remnants of the world above that have found their way to the seabed. The sand is littered with seashells, gold coins, tarnished utensils, waterlogged books, and ancient jewelry. Taehyung, much like Namjoon with his stones—sorry, crystals—collects these artifacts with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a child, his love for these lost relics bringing a smile to your face as you join him in his explorations.

“Look! There’s a glass over here,” Taehyung calls out, his voice filled with the thrill of discovery. You swim over to him, your curiosity piqued, and inspect the object he holds in his hands. It’s a strange trinket, unlike anything you’ve seen before.

“Glass?” you murmur, the word feeling foreign and heavy on your tongue, as if it doesn’t quite belong in your world.

Taehyung shows you the glass—a large, round vessel with a slender stem that widens into a foot. It resembles a wine glass, and as you gaze at it, a wave of dizziness washes over you. Your vision fades to black.

When it returns, the sound of thunder fills your ears, loud and ominous. You’re no longer underwater but standing on the deck of a yacht, gripping the railing with one hand, the other clutching an almost empty wine glass. The crimson liquid sloshes with the rocking of the boat, staining the pristine glass with its rich hue. The sky above is a stormy canvas, dark and swirling, illuminated only by flashes of lightning that slice through the darkness. A blanket of rain soaks you to the bone, cold and relentless, while eerie laughter mingles with the crack of thunder, creating a symphony that sends chills down your spine.

Suddenly, a massive wave crashes against the yacht, and you lose your grip on the wine glass. It shatters on the deck, the pieces scattering like shards of a broken memory. Another wave strikes, and you’re thrown off balance. You tumble over the side of the yacht, plunging into the churning sea. The waves are merciless, slamming you against the hull, and your head collides with a sickening thud. Your body goes limp, and you begin to sink into the depths, the water filling your lungs as you struggle to breathe. Everything goes dark, the weight of the ocean pressing down on you, dragging you deeper, deeper and deeper into the abyss.

Your eyes snap open, your body trembling, cold sweat slicking your skin. Taehyung stares at you, his expression puzzled and concerned. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tentative, as if afraid to break the fragile silence that hangs between you.

You nod, biting your lip, though deep down, you know you’re far from okay. What you saw felt so vividly real—falling into the ocean, legs thrashing as a human. These visions must be memories, but memories of what time, what life?

As you reflect, a disturbing realization grips you: you don’t remember anything from before meeting Seokjin. There’s nothing—just a blank void where your past should be. Could these really be your memories? From a life before... before Seokjin?

A shiver runs through you, the chill of dread seeping into your bones. It doesn’t make sense, this absence of a past. Where were you born? Is ___ even your true name? Who are you, really?

These questions swirl in your mind like a storm, dark and turbulent, as unsettling as the depths you plunged into in your vision. You can feel your thoughts unraveling, each thread pulling at the fabric of your reality. Yet, Taehyung, oblivious to your inner turmoil, continues his treasure hunt with the same innocent enthusiasm. You try to hide your growing fear, but your body betrays you with tremors. Perhaps you should confide in Seokjin about these dreams—no, these memories. He’s so knowledgeable about history, about magic; maybe there’s something he can do. The thought of sharing your burden with him is both comforting and terrifying. You feel fragile, like a piece of glass teetering on the edge, a single crack away from shattering into countless, irreparable fragments.

Despite the weight pressing down on you, you help Taehyung search for more treasures, turning over every leaf of kelp, every rocky surface. He fills his bag to the brim with relics from the world above, while you swim beside him, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. The strange feeling lingers as you reach home, and Seokjin’s eyes find yours, instantly recognizing that something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, his grip on your arms firm, his gaze searching yours, desperate for an answer to the sadness clouding your features.

You let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, unable to meet his eyes.

“Didn’t you have a good time with Taehyung on your treasure hunt?” he inquires, his concern deepening when you shake your head.

“No, the treasure hunt was fine. It’s…” you begin, fumbling with the words, struggling to find a way to explain the unexplainable. But you have to try—maybe he can help. “I’ve been having these weird visions,” you pause, your voice trembling as you swim nervously from side to side, “or memories, I think.”

His expression shifts from curiosity to worry, his handsome face now eerily blank as he listens.

“What kind of memories?” he asks, his voice cautious, as if afraid of what you might say.

“Of me. As a human. With legs. Living on land,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush, hoping against hope that he might understand, that he might have some insight into why you’re experiencing these memories—how to make them go away before they consume you entirely. 

He says nothing, his silence a heavy weight between you, and his frown deepens, a storm gathering in his eyes. Your heart sinks, dragging your hope down with it.

“Are these my memories?” you ask, your voice small, trembling as you finally give voice to the fear that has haunted you for days. You hold your breath, waiting for his response, dreading the answer.

But he avoids your gaze, his silence more damning than any words could be. Your heart plummets, sinking into the depths of despair. Does he have something to do with this? What is he hiding from you? What truth is he keeping locked away, and why does it feel like your world is about to unravel completely?

Seokjin descends into the deep, where the ocean’s embrace is tight and unyielding, and where the light above is little more than a distant memory. He loves it here, in the silent, shadowy depths where the world feels vast and endless, yet intimately close. Today, however, his journey is not for himself. Taehyung, bedridden with the flu, has entrusted him with a mission—to find treasures, the peculiar remnants of human life that have sunken to the ocean’s floor. Usually, Taehyung would be at his side, his eyes alight with curiosity, but today, Seokjin searches alone, determined to bring back something special for his friend.

The sandy bottom stretches out beneath him, vast and barren, as he scours it for any sign of something unusual. His hands sift through the grains, but he finds nothing of interest, just the familiar whisper of the ocean around him. Then, a muffled ripple from above disrupts the stillness, and he pauses, his attention caught. He glances upward, but the water is thick, his depth too great to see the sun or the sky. The darkness is all-consuming, but there’s a strange energy in the water—a tremor, a subtle shift. 

He feels it before he sees it, the electric charge pulsing through the sea as the surface above transforms into a chaotic dance of white and yellow. Lightning forks across the sky, and thunder reverberates through the waves, a distant echo that reaches even these shadowy depths. His heart quickens as he senses a looming presence overhead—a large boat, struggling against the storm’s fury. Curiosity tugs at him, urging him closer to the surface, to that fragile boundary between his world and the one above.

But then, a sudden splash shatters the rhythm of the waves, drawing his gaze. Seokjin doesn’t need to see to know something is wrong—he feels it, deep in his core. He propels himself upward, slicing through the water with powerful strokes, and as he nears the surface, the scene unfolds before him. 

There you are—a human—falling helplessly into the ocean, bubbles streaming from your lips as you instinctively gasp for air, only to inhale the saltwater instead. Your eyes flutter shut as your head collides with the boat’s hull, and then your body begins its slow descent into the abyss, like a fragile leaf caught in the current.

For a heartbeat, Seokjin is frozen, torn between the instinct to remain hidden and the overwhelming urge to save you. But he knows he cannot let a life slip away, human or not. With a surge of determination, he rockets toward you, his tail propelling him with swift, graceful power. You’re sinking fast, but he reaches you just in time, wrapping his arms around your limp form. His heart pounds with the hope that you’re merely unconscious, that life still flickers within you.

Panic flares as he realizes the enormity of the task ahead—he’s too far from shore to bring you to safety, and the thought of being discovered by the humans above sends a chill through him. The ocean, with its relentless pull, drags you both deeper with each passing second. He knows he must act, and quickly. There’s no time to waste. Every moment is a battle against the depths that threaten to claim you.

Without hesitation, Seokjin makes his decision. He turns and swims with all his might, his powerful tail driving him forward through the dark waters. His destination is clear—the Sea Witch, the only one who might possess the power to save you. His heart races as he speeds through the ocean, praying that you can hold on just a little longer.

The dark enclave comes into view, a place shrouded in mystery and foreboding. He enters the cave, the water around him thick with an eerie glow cast by bioluminescent algae that clings to the walls. Shadows dance in the dim light, flickering like spirits, and the silence is heavy, almost oppressive. Fish dart away at his approach, sensing the urgency in his movements. 

There, in the heart of the cave, surrounded by shelves brimming with arcane artifacts and ancient relics, he finds her—the Sea Witch. Her long black curls float around her like a halo, moving with a life of their own. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto him as he approaches. Though she appears youthful, Seokjin knows that her ageless beauty is a mask, a testament to the powerful magic that courses through her veins.

“What brings you here, Seokjin?” she asks, her voice smooth and laced with knowing, as if she’s already aware of the answer. He realizes, with a start, that he’s never known her true name. But it doesn’t matter now. 

Seokjin’s grip tightens around your lifeless form, and with desperation in his eyes, he speaks.

“I need your help,” he gasps, dragging your lifeless form before her. “I found this woman sinking into the sea. I can’t get her to shore in time... Can you save her? Turn her into a mermaid and give her life?” His voice trembles with a mix of urgency and fear, a tremor that reveals the depth of his desperation. Though he doesn’t know you, the thought of your life slipping away fills him with an unnameable dread.

The Sea Witch’s eyes flicker with interest, her gaze sharp and calculating. “Such a request comes with a price,” she murmurs, her voice as soft and dark as the water that surrounds them. Her fingers move to tame her wild hair, but it’s a futile gesture amidst the swirling chaos of her lair, where shadows and light dance in an eerie ballet.

“Anything,” he pleads, his desperation mounting as he feels the fragile thread of your life fraying in his arms. “Just save her.”

The Sea Witch’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “You won’t be able to turn into a human except under the full moon,” she intones, her words echoing through the cavern like an ancient incantation. She waits, her eyes boring into him, before beginning the spell.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he nods and gently pushes you toward her, his hands trembling as he releases you. “It’s fine. Just help her, please.” The price she asks seems insignificant—he rarely ventures onto land, and what are legs compared to a life? Your life, he believes, is worth far more than the ability to walk on two feet.

The Sea Witch begins her incantation, her voice weaving through the water like a thread of silk. As the ancient words spill from her lips, your body begins to glow, the dull pallor of death replaced by a shimmer that pulses with life. Shimmers and sparkles envelop you, swirling like stars caught in a tide, as your legs begin to meld together, forming a sleek, purple tail. The transformation is breathtaking—the skin of your legs morphs into iridescent scales, each one catching the faint light and reflecting it in a myriad of colors. Your clothing shifts, dissolving into the water and reappearing as a seashell bra that perfectly matches the hue of your new tail. Suspended in the water, you look ethereal, like a creature born from the ocean’s deepest dreams.

Then, with a sudden jolt, your eyes flutter open, wide and filled with fear. Panic seizes you, and you curl into yourself, your new tail thrashing in the water as you try to make sense of the world around you. 

“Where am I?” you ask, your voice trembling, the sound echoing softly through the cavern. Your eyes dart around, wide with terror and confusion.

Seokjin moves closer, his heart aching at the sight of your distress. He takes your hand in his, the touch meant to ground you, to offer some semblance of comfort in the midst of your fear. “It’s okay, ___,” he soothes, his voice gentle, his expression warm and reassuring. He doesn’t know your real name, but he calls you by the first name that springs to mind, one that seems to fit the beauty and fragility he sees before him. “You’re safe.”

He offers you a smile, a gesture meant to calm the storm raging inside you, and begins to weave a story—a tale of separation during a treasure hunt, a simple explanation that he hopes will ease your fear. Though your eyes remain clouded with uncertainty, you slowly nod, clinging to his words as though they are a lifeline.

But as you accept his story, a pang of guilt lodges itself deep within Seokjin’s heart. He knows the truth—knows that he’s withheld it from you. Yet, seeing the terror in your eyes, he cannot bring himself to reveal everything, not now, not when you’re so fragile. Perhaps, he tells himself, you will never need to know what really happened. Perhaps, in time, this story will become your truth. And for now, all that matters is that you are alive and safe, held gently in the arms of the ocean, where your new life has just begun.

Listening to Seokjin’s tale of your transformation, how you were once human and are now a mermaid, feels like the world is crumbling beneath you. Doubt and mistrust swirl in your mind like a gathering storm, obscuring everything you thought you knew. What is real anymore? Who are you? Despite the shimmering purple tail that now defines your existence, a gnawing certainty lingers—you once walked on land, breathed the air of the earth, and had friends who must surely be missing you. But why haven’t they searched for you? How long have you been living underwater, unaware of the life you lost? The questions twist within you, each one more agonizing than the last, yet you dare not ask Seokjin, for the trust you once had in him lies shattered at your feet.

Seokjin’s expression is a canvas of regret, yet he remains silent, offering no apology, no explanation. Anger and sorrow churn within you, a tumultuous sea that threatens to drown you. He deceived you, and the visions that have haunted you are not mere dreams but fragments of your stolen past. A wave of nausea rises within you as the weight of this realization crashes down, leaving you feeling displaced, as if you don’t belong in the ocean’s depths. This isn’t your home. You are human, and your heart aches for the life that was unjustly taken from you.

You don’t want to look at him—yet you do, because it suddenly hits you that this might be the last time you ever see him. You take in every detail, committing his features to memory: the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his nose—slightly upturned, the beautiful hazel eyes that shimmer with a mix of love and regret. Sadness tugs at your heartstrings, but the thought of his lies and the human life he stole from you reignites your anger. Your gaze traces the sharp line of his eyebrows, the tousled chestnut hair, down to the broad shoulders that taper into a strong chest and a narrow waist, where the scales of his tail begin. The tail shimmers in shades of pink, adorned with light fins at the back, and across his torso, the waist necklace of seashells and pearls—your gift, collected during treasure hunts with your friends—now seems like a mockery. Anger and love coil within you, a tangled mess of emotions, until you can no longer bear to look at him. You simply can’t.

Determined, you grit your teeth, tension rippling through your entire being. Seokjin reaches out, but you back away, your voice sharp and broken as you command, “Don’t follow me!” With that, you turn and swim away, heart pounding, the weight of his betrayal pressing heavily on your chest.

Desperate for answers, you head toward the Sea Witch—the one who played a role in your transformation. Her cave looms ahead, dark and foreboding, the water turning icy as you approach. She lounges on a rocky surface draped with plush kelp, her eyes cold and knowing as they settle on you.

“How can I help you, darling?” she asks, her voice smooth, her gaze piercing through your resolve.

“I want to turn back into my human form,” you declare, your voice steady, though your heart quivers. The Sea Witch nods, no questions asked, as she begins muttering an incantation. Her words wrap around you like a spellbinding current. She tells you that once you reach the shore, you will revert to your human self, but warns that contact with seawater will not return you to a mermaid, as you were not born of the sea. You accept this truth, ready to leave behind the deception that has kept you bound to the ocean.

With a newfound resolve, you swim toward the shore, the water parting before you as if understanding your need to escape. The ocean, once a place of wonder and discovery, now feels like a prison of lies. You are determined to find the truth, to reclaim the life you were meant to live, to breathe the air of the world you were born into. As the sunlight pierces the water’s surface, you push forward, breaking free from the ocean’s hold, ready to embrace your humanity once more.

With a splash, you break through the surface of the water, swimming toward the shore that shimmers on the horizon like a distant dream. You hope no one sees you, a fleeting shadow in the moonlit waves. The beach lies silent, empty, and welcoming as you drag yourself onto the sand, away from the saltwater’s embrace. A few heartbeats later, your scaly tail vanishes, replaced by human legs. You look down in wonder, wiggling your toes, the sensation oddly strange and yet familiar, as though awakening from a long-forgotten dream. A smile spreads across your face as the moon casts its silver light upon the water, a witness to your transformation. 

Suddenly, the reality of your nudity dawns on you, and you glance around for something to cover yourself. Fortune favors you as your eyes catch sight of an abandoned towel, half-buried in the sand, which you quickly wrap around your body like a cloak of newfound modesty.

The grains of sand beneath your toes feel comforting, grounding you in a world that once seemed so far away. You take a few tentative steps, the motion awkward at first but gradually becoming more fluid, as though your muscles remember what your mind had forgotten. As you gaze over the shore, memories flood back in a rush: the thrill of sailing with friends under perfect skies, the sudden fury of a storm, the terror of falling into the sea. Faces of loved ones flash before you—your friends, the loss of your parents when you were still so young, the aching loneliness of being an only child. Your heart sinks under the weight of these memories, leaving you hollow, a stranger in a world you once called home. Do your friends even remember you? How much time has slipped away in your absence?

Your feet, as if guided by some hidden instinct, carry you along what you assume is a familiar path to one of your friends’ places. The city at night envelops you in its quiet hum, and though you’re wrapped only in a towel, you push on, ignoring the leering glances of drunk passersby who whistle as you hurry past. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of nerves and determination, until at last, you find yourself standing before a tall apartment building that tugs at the strings of your memory. You walk inside, the glass doors parting like a portal to your past, and head straight to the elevator. For a moment, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the buttons as doubt creeps in. But then, almost of its own accord, your hand presses the number seven. The doors close, sealing you in, and the elevator ascends, carrying you toward the unknown.

When the doors open, you step into the dimly lit hall, each step echoing in the stillness as you approach a door that feels like the right one. You raise your hand to knock, aware that it’s the middle of the night and you might be waking someone who believes you are long gone.

A few soft knocks, and the door creaks open to reveal a tired, sleepy face, one that instantly brings a rush of warmth to your heart—it’s Soohee, your brain whispers.

“___?” she breathes, disbelief thick in her voice.

Your name— you remember it now, and it strikes you as a beautiful twist of fate that Seokjin, without knowing, bestowed upon you your true human name.

“What are you doing here? How are you alive?” she asks, her eyes wide with shock as the door remains slightly ajar, her mind struggling to reconcile your presence with the reality she knows. You just smile, the kind of smile that holds the weight of untold stories, and nod.

“You’ve been gone for two years,” she continues, her voice breaking as she reaches for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This is unbelievable. I thought you were dead. I missed you so much.”

You cling to her, the warmth of her arms anchoring you to this world, to the life you were meant to live. The ocean’s secrets may linger, but here, in this moment, you are home.

You let her envelop you in a hug, her familiar scent triggering a flood of memories that rush back with bittersweet clarity. “Come in,” she whispers, her voice tinged with relief, as she gently guides you inside and closes the door behind you, sealing the outside world away. Without a word about your strange attire, she hands you some of her clothes, the softness of the fabric a small comfort, and gently nudges you toward the bathroom to change. Emerging in a baggy shirt and pajama pants that hang loosely on your frame, you find the couch already made up for you, the blankets tucked in as if to cradle your weary body. Sleep should come easily, but it evades you, slipping through your grasp as your mind races, caught between the tangled threads of your human past and mermaid present. Memories of Seokjin and your life beneath the waves tug at your heart, while the bitter aftertaste of his deception lingers like a shadow. Rest remains an elusive dream.

Morning arrives with the pale light of dawn, revealing the dark circles beneath your eyes, evidence of the sleepless night you’ve endured. Soohee hands you a cup of coffee, her concern evident in the way her eyes search yours for answers you’re not yet ready to give. You sit together in the quiet morning, the warmth of the cup a small solace in your hands, as she begins to recount that fateful night. She explains how they didn’t notice you fall over the railing, their laughter and drunken fun drowning out any sound of your descent. Her hands fidget with the hem of her shirt as she speaks, her voice heavy with regret. They searched for you the next day, she says, but the sea offered no clues, and they eventually assumed you had drowned.

Her words fall like stones into the pit of your stomach, offering no comfort, only deepening the ache that has settled there. The knowledge that your friends didn’t do more, that they gave up so easily, weighs heavily on you, pulling you further into the depths of despair. The fragility of your friendship, how quickly they assumed the worst and moved on, leaves you feeling more isolated than ever, a stranger in the life you once knew.

You don’t tell Soohee the full story, offering only that you remember little and somehow washed up on shore. The truth of your mermaid life feels like a fragile thread, too delicate to share, a secret woven into the very fabric of your being that isn’t yours alone to unravel.

An invisible wall stands between you, a tension that hums in the air, hard to define but impossible to ignore. Despite the discomfort, you follow Soohee to a café to meet the rest of your friends. Everything feels slightly off, as if you’re playing a part in a play whose lines you’ve forgotten. There’s an emptiness that lingers in every smile, a sense of unfulfillment that shadows every conversation.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself making a temporary home in Soohee’s apartment. Most days, you’re left alone with your thoughts while she’s at work, the silence pressing in on you, heavy and suffocating. Memories of life beneath the ocean rise unbidden, surprising you with their vividness and intensity. You find yourself longing for the rhythm of the sea, the simplicity of underwater existence. And most of all, you miss Seokjin.

You wonder if he misses you too. If he had apologized, would you have fled so quickly? Maybe. The betrayal had felt like a tidal wave, overwhelming and inescapable. But now, in the calm that follows the storm, those feelings have receded, leaving behind a deep, persistent sadness. You realize, with a pang, that you might have overreacted. Seokjin had saved your life, after all. In your anger, you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge that fact.

A sigh escapes your lips as you sit alone in the stillness of the apartment, the quiet wrapping around you like a heavy cloak. Your thoughts are a whirlpool, pulling you deeper into longing and regret. If only you could see him again, to tell him you’re sorry, to let him know how grateful you are. He saved you, pulled you from the brink of death, and in your anger, you hadn’t allowed him to explain, hadn’t given him the chance to speak. 

You miss the comfort of his presence, the reassurance in his eyes that could calm even the fiercest storm. With each passing day, the longing to return to the sea, to him, grows stronger, an ache that gnaws at your very soul. The human world, once your home, now feels foreign and hollow, lacking the vibrancy and depth of the ocean’s embrace.

It saddens you deeply to know you can’t simply walk into the sea and transform back into a mermaid, to leave behind the confusion and reclaim the life that felt more real than anything on land. Life here isn’t what you remember; perhaps it’s because you’ve tasted something far richer beneath the waves. The underwater world was more than just a place—it was a tapestry woven with love, adventure, and the sense of belonging you had never known before. There, you had a family, friends who were like kin. Here, among old acquaintances, you feel like an imposter, a shadow of the person you once were. The friendships you once cherished now seem distant and strained, as if you’re playing a role in a story that no longer fits.

Confined mostly to the apartment, the walls closing in on you, you decide one warm summer day to seek solace at the beach, hoping the sea might offer some answers. The sun blazes in the azure sky, and the water sparkles like a thousand tiny diamonds, beckoning you. As you settle into the warm sand, tears prick at your eyes, blurring the horizon. Your thoughts drift like the tide, pulled between the world above and the world below.

Who are you, truly? A human by birth, yet your heart beats for the sea. You long to breathe its salty depths, to feel the cool caress of the water as you swim alongside Seokjin, to embark on treasure hunts with your oceanic friends. You miss them with an intensity that surprises you, a longing that feels more profound than anything you’ve ever known. The question of your true identity—human or mermaid—plagues you, an endless loop of uncertainty. Can you ever return to the life you’ve lost? The fear that you might never know gnaws at you, an unspoken dread that settles in your chest.

Existential questions swirl in your mind, a tempest of doubt and longing that refuses to quiet. The ache in your head intensifies, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within, the push and pull of two worlds tearing at you.

You sigh, tracing whimsical patterns in the sand with your fingertips, the soft grains a fleeting distraction from the storm inside. Memories of Seokjin flood your mind—his warmth, his kindness, the way his laughter wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. You recall the moment you fell in love with him, the spark that ignited when your eyes first met, a connection that felt ancient and unbreakable. Even when your own name was a mystery, when you were adrift in the haze of lost memories, Seokjin was your anchor, a beacon of safety and love. Now, that connection is a gaping void in your heart, an emptiness that no human life can fill.

Perhaps it was destiny that led you to fall into the sea that night, a twist of fate that drew you to the world where you truly belonged. Maybe you were always meant to be a mermaid, to be with Seokjin. The thought brings a fleeting comfort, like a whisper on the wind, before dissolving into another sigh. The questions remain, offering no solace, only more uncertainty. 

Resolutely, you rise, brushing the sand from your hands, the sun’s warmth a faint echo of the warmth you crave. You head back to the apartment, each step heavy with the weight of indecision. As you step inside, the familiar pang of emptiness hits you—it doesn’t feel like home. It never will. Seokjin was your home, and without him, you’re adrift, caught between two worlds and belonging to neither.

Soohee, determined to lift the shadows from your heart, insists on pulling you from the apartment where you’ve been brooding for what feels like an eternity. Reluctantly, you find yourself at your usual café, bathed in the silver glow of a full moon that hangs heavy in the night sky. Your friends chatter and laugh, their joy a distant melody, muffled as if trapped behind a glass wall that you can’t seem to break through. You sip your iced coffee mechanically, the cold seeping through the cup but not reaching the numbness that has settled in your soul.

Your gaze drifts out the window, unfocused, lost in a world of longing that only you can see. The sea calls to you, its siren song winding through your thoughts like a ribbon of silver and salt. The ache in your chest is almost unbearable—the yearning for the water, for the life you abandoned, for Seokjin, pulls at you with a force that’s impossible to ignore.

Suddenly, the lively chatter at your table falters, falling into an unexpected hush, but you remain adrift in your thoughts, lost in the waves of your mind. The voices around you blur into the background, until one breaks through, familiar and stirring, sending a shiver down your spine. That voice—smooth, warm, and unmistakably his—pulls you from your reverie.

You turn, and there he stands, Seokjin, his smile as bright and soft as the moonlight. He has legs now, and though he looks good like this, your heart aches for the mermaid form you fell in love with beneath the waves.

“Hi, babe,” he breathes, his voice thick with longing and the weight of everything left unsaid. Your heart swells at the sight of him, and you can feel the warmth of a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Hi, Jinnie,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with all the affection you’ve kept locked away.

Your friends exchange puzzled glances, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the air thick with something extraordinary and inexplicable. You offer them a quick explanation, telling them that Seokjin is your boyfriend, though the truth is far more complex than any simple label could capture. Ignoring their confusion, you rise from your seat, your heart pounding as you cross the room to Seokjin, wrapping him in a tight embrace. The moment your head nestles into the crook of his neck, a profound sense of home washes over you, as if the pieces of your heart are finally falling back into place.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his hands gentle as they hold yours, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin, trying to mend the fractures he fears he’s caused.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, though your voice trembles with emotion. “Do you want to go back to my place and talk?” The words hang between you, fragile and full of hope.

When he nods, the relief that floods through you is overwhelming. You say goodbye to your friends with a wave, their bewildered faces fading into the background as you step out into the night, hand in hand with Seokjin, heading back to the apartment you share with Soohee.

The streets are quiet, the full moon casting a soft glow on the path before you. Seokjin’s hand steadies you, anchoring you as you walk through the dimly lit streets, each step bringing you closer to the conversation that will decide your fate. You don’t speak, save your words for when you can give him your full attention, when the night and the moon are the only witnesses to your truths.

It takes only five minutes to reach the apartment building, but each second feels both fleeting and eternal. Inside, the familiar ding of the elevator announces its arrival, and as the doors close around you, your eyes meet his, the silence between you pregnant with unspoken emotions. In that shared look, regret and longing intertwine, a silent apology passes between you.

As the elevator dings again, signaling your arrival on the seventh floor, you offer him a soft smile, your heart heavy with what’s to come. Leading him to the door, you unlock it, and as you step inside, you know that whatever happens next, this moment—this reunion—will be etched into your soul forever.

Both of you step inside, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. Without exchanging a glance, you move to the kitchen, your movements slow, deliberate. You pour cold water into glasses, the sound of liquid filling the silence that stretches between you. Placing the glasses on the table, you join Seokjin on the couch. His eyes follow you, brimming with emotions that mirror your own—uncertainty, regret, and a longing for the connection that feels so fragile now. 

For a few moments, you’re both adrift in the quiet, your mind scrambling to find the right words, the perfect way to express your remorse. But before you can speak, Seokjin breaks the silence with a sigh, his breath shaky, followed by a soft, almost self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with sorrow.

A lump forms in your throat, and you nod, biting your lip as you fight back the tears threatening to spill. His eyes, usually so bright and full of warmth, now shimmer with regret. “I should have told you the truth,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “About your accident, about the fact that you were human... I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”

His words cut through the tension, making your heart clench painfully. Instinctively, your hands reach out for his, seeking the reassurance and love that have always been your anchor. “I forgive you, Seokjin,” you breathe, your voice soft but steady, a tentative smile touching your lips as you rub gentle circles into his hands. “But I need to apologize too. I overreacted when I found out, and I’m sorry for that. I know you didn’t lie, but you did keep things from me. It was wrong, but… I understand why you did it.” You pause, truly grasping the weight of his decisions. “If I were in your position, I don’t know if I would have told everything right away either. I still wish you’d told me sooner,” you add with a dramatic sigh, a hint of playfulness creeping into your tone, “but it’s okay. I just want to move past this. I’ve missed you so much.”

Seokjin squeezes your hands, the gesture full of warmth and relief, bringing a genuine smile to your face. “I’m glad to hear that,” he exhales, as if he’s been holding his breath for an eternity. “I’ve missed you too. That’s why I came back. I needed to tell you that.”

He begins to rise from the couch, and a flicker of confusion crosses your face as you feel the emptiness left by his absence. “What are you doing?” you ask, your voice tinged with worry as you reach out for him, not ready to let go.

“I was going to leave,” he says softly, noticing the sadness clouding your eyes. “I’ve said what I needed to.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you plead, your hand grasping his as if anchoring him in place. “I have more to say. Please, sit down.” He hesitates for a moment, then nods, settling back onto the couch, his gaze fixed on you, waiting.

“I also wanted to thank you,” you continue, your voice trembling slightly as you shift closer to him, your thigh brushing against his. “Thank you for saving me… for loving me. I miss you, Seokjin. I miss my friends, I miss being a mermaid, and I’m afraid I’ve messed everything up. I don’t feel like I belong on land. Everything feels wrong here.”

Tears well up in your eyes, the weight of your emotions finally too much to hold back. Seokjin notices immediately, his fingers tenderly brushing away the tears before they can fall. ���It’s okay, love,” he whispers, his voice soothing, filled with the warmth you’ve missed so desperately.

His hand travels to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you into him, your face finding solace in the familiar crook of his neck. You close your eyes, inhaling the comforting scent of him, a mix of saltwater and something uniquely Seokjin. As you rest there, your heart begins to mend, the broken pieces slowly coming together in the safety of his embrace.

He pulls you away gently, just enough to gaze into your eyes. His brown irises shimmer with a depth of emotion, like pearls nestled in the heart of a clam, radiating a love so pure it sends a warm twinge through your entire body. He leans in, and his lips find yours, tentative at first, a delicate reunion after what feels like an eternity apart. The kiss, soft and tender, soon deepens, growing fiery and urgent as his tongue teases for entrance, a silent plea that you eagerly grant.

His hand stays firm at the nape of your neck, keeping you anchored to him, while his fingers weave into your hair, tugging gently. The sensation pulls a needy, strangled sound from your throat—a sound that might have embarrassed you if you weren’t so utterly consumed by the desire coursing through your veins. You’ve missed him desperately, and you want him just as fiercely—want him in this way, as humans, experiencing something entirely new for the both of you. It’s a new experience for both of you. Though you’ve had your share of intimate moments before becoming a mermaid, and Seokjin has spent ample time on land, you’ve never been together like this. The thought sends your heart racing, your body warming with anticipation.

You kiss him again, your hands flying to his face, cupping his cheeks as you sigh into his mouth, savoring the closeness. When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting for breath. “I want you, Jinnie,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and longing. Your fingers tug at the fabric of his shirt, your need palpable. “I want you like this, before you leave.”

There’s a desperation in your plea, a fear that this moment might slip away too quickly, leaving you aching with the uncertainty of when you might see him again. You sense his desire too, but the unspoken questions about the complexities of a human and merman relationship hover at the edge of your mind. Still, you push them aside, focusing on the one truth that matters now—you want him, here and now.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you silence him with another kiss, this one fervent, consuming. Whatever words he might have had are lost in the heat of the moment. Your hands move with a newfound urgency, pulling off his shirt in a swift motion. As it drops to the floor, you take a moment to drink in the sight of him, his chest strong and defined, reminiscent of his merman form, with broad shoulders that taper to a lean, narrow waist.

Your hands drift lower, unzipping his pants with a quick, determined motion. The bulge in his black boxers is unmistakable, and you stroke him through the fabric, drawing out needy sounds from deep within him that only spur your desire further. You lick your lips in anticipation, wondering what his dick looks like— if he’s thick, long? How he’ll feel, how he’ll fit.

Slipping your hands under the waistband, you grasp his cock, feeling it throb eagerly in your hand. A thrill runs through you at the sensation, the heat and the pulse of him. “Sit up so I can take these off you,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire as you tease the waistband. He complies without hesitation, lifting his hips to help you slide the garment off. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach, and your eyes widen in awe. He’s long, longer than anyone you’ve been with before, the reddened tip glistening with precum that makes your mouth water in anticipation.

You can’t wait to taste him, to feel him, to make this moment last as long as possible.

Your fingers wrap around his dick, feeling his heat, and the sound that escapes his lips—a desperate, trembling whine—sends a shiver of thrill through your entire being. That sound, so raw and vulnerable, makes you crave more, and you can’t help but tease him, pumping his cock slowly, savoring every reaction. His eyes flutter shut, his head tilting back as he succumbs to the pleasure you’re giving him, lost in the sensation.

Leaning in close, your breath hot against his flushed skin, you flick your tongue out, tasting the salty sweetness at the tip. His gasp is sharp, his hips bucking instinctively, and you revel in the power you hold in this moment. Each sound he makes is a symphony, a melody only the two of you can hear, each movement a testament to the electric connection that binds you together.

“Please,” he pants, his voice ragged and needy, “please give me more.”

The plea in his voice ignites a fire in you, and with a sultry glance, you let a bead of spit fall onto his cock, watching it glisten before lowering your mouth to take him in. You start slowly, your tongue tracing the intricate lines and ridges, teasing the sensitive head with gentle flicks. The salty bead of precum bursts on your tongue, fueling the desire burning in your core.

With deliberate slowness, you slide down, taking more of him into your mouth, knowing you can’t take all of him, but determined to give him as much as you can. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking in rhythm with the movement of your lips, your tongue swirling around him in a dance of pleasure. His moans fill the room, a chorus of need and desire, as you work him with practiced skill, sucking on him like a lollipop, hollowing your cheeks to create the perfect suction.

His hands cradle your cheeks, his touch gentle but insistent, and with a loud, wet pop, he pulls you off. His eyes, dark with lust, gaze down at you, his chest heaving. “You look so gorgeous like this,” he breathes, voice thick with longing, “but I really want to know how it feels to be inside you.”

A slow smile spreads across your face, matching the eagerness in his eyes. Together, you strip away the remaining barriers between you, clothes discarded in a careless heap on the floor. The air between you hums with anticipation, every touch, every glance charged with the hunger you both feel. He surprises you by gently pushing you down onto the couch, spreading your legs wide as he drinks in the sight of your glistening folds.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes lingering on you with adoration. “Let me taste you?”

Your breath catches in your throat as you nod, giving him permission. He wastes no time, his mouth descending on you with a hunger that makes your toes curl. His tongue moves with a skilled, silky precision, lapping at your folds, teasing your clit with just the right pressure. You moan his name, your fingers tangling in his chestnut hair, urging him to go deeper, to give you more.

His mouth is relentless, worshiping your body with every stroke, every lick, his own sounds of pleasure vibrating against your sensitive flesh. The sensations he’s creating make your body arch off the couch, your back bowing as the pleasure builds, spiraling higher and higher until it’s almost too much to bear.

His fingers find your nipples, pinching and rolling them in time with the rhythm of his tongue, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. And then, it happens—your body tenses, fingers clenching hard in his hair as you push yourself onto his face, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You ride the sensation, lost in the euphoria of release, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you come undone on his tongue.

He gazes up at you with boundless love, his eyes soft as he gives a few final, lingering licks, savoring every drop of you. When he finally moves up to kiss you, it’s deep and passionate, his body fitting perfectly between your legs. You can feel his hand, steady and sure, as he guides his throbbing cock, stroking it briefly before aligning it with your entrance. The anticipation makes your heart race, your body quivering with need as you wait for him to claim you, to make you his in every way.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing hum as he brushes the tip of his cock against your slick folds.

“God, yes,” you breathe, your words barely a whisper as your body aches with need, your pussy practically pleading to be filled. The anticipation coils tight within you, every nerve alight with longing.

With a deliberate slowness, he begins to push into you, his dick stretching you inch by inch. The sensation is exquisite, a blend of pleasure and sweet ache that leaves you gasping. When he finally bottoms out, buried deep inside, it’s as if he touches the very core of you, the stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Move, please,” you grunt, the word coming out thick with desperation. You need more of him, all of him.

He responds to your plea, his hips beginning to roll with a steady rhythm, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body. The sound of his hips meeting yours fills the room, a steady beat that matches the pounding of your heart. You shift, hoisting your legs higher, draping them over his broad shoulders. The new angle has him sinking even deeper into you, hitting that spot that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl. The way he kisses your cervix is nothing short of divine, a sensation that borders on the sublime.

He pants your name, the sound rich with need, his hands framing your face as his brows knit together in a beautiful display of focus and desire. He dips down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, and you groan into his mouth, feeling the intensity of his love and the depth of your connection in every movement.

When he rises again, his hands find your thighs, gripping them as he picks up speed, each thrust more insistent, more desperate, as he chases the edge. You feel your own climax building, the tension winding tight in your belly, and your hand drifts down between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts. Your breaths come faster, matching the rhythm of his, and as your pussy begins to pulse around him, the pleasure crests, sweeping through you like a tidal wave. You cry out his name, nails digging into his biceps as you ride the peak, your body trembling with the force of your release.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice hoarse with pleasure, “I’m close… I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” you beg, your voice ragged with need. “Come inside me, fill me up, please.”

With a stuttering groan, he releases, his warmth spilling into you as his body shudders with the force of his orgasm. His hair sticks to his damp forehead, his skin glistening with sweat, but he leans down to kiss you, his lips tender and sweet. You welcome the salty taste of him, the heat of his body, wanting to hold onto every bit of him, to memorize this moment.

After a few heartbeats, he gently pulls out of you, the loss of his presence making you feel momentarily hollow. He disappears into the bathroom, returning with a soft towel. His touch is careful and loving as he cleans you, the warmth of the cloth a gentle caress against your sensitive skin. The sweetness of his care, the way he looks at you with such tenderness, makes your heart ache, and a lump forms in your throat.

A few tears slip free, unbidden, and Seokjin pauses, his eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You sniffle, trying to blink away the tears, but they keep coming. “I just… I miss you so much. This was incredible, but I don’t want you to go. I want to be with you every day. I wish I could be with you every day.”

The words break something loose inside you, and soon you’re crying in earnest, the sobs shaking your chest. Now you’re full-on crying. What a mess—crying after sex. You hope he doesn’t think he did anything wrong, because he truly didn’t.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly, pulling you close, your bodies still bare yet wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. The cool night air brushes against your skin, but it’s his touch that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand finds your chin, lifting it gently so your eyes meet his. The uncertainty of when you’ll see him next weighs heavy, your lips trembling with unspoken fears. But his gaze, soft and filled with love, reassures you. 

“I wanted to tell you before,” he begins, his voice a tender caress, “you can become a mermaid again if you want. I just didn’t want to assume you’d want that.” His fingers trace your bottom lip, the touch like the brush of a feather, sending ripples of longing through you.

Become a mermaid again? 

The words ignite a spark of hope in your chest, warming you from the inside out.

“Really?” you whisper, your eyes glimmering with tears of joy and love, the possibility almost too beautiful to grasp.

“Yeah,” he nods, his own eyes bright with promise. “We just need to talk to the Sea Witch.”

“Can we go now?” you ask, your heart soaring like a gull over the waves.

He laughs softly, the sound a balm to your anxious heart. “Sure. But shouldn’t you say goodbye to your friends?”

You shake your head, the decision firm and resolute. “I’ll just leave them a note.” You know it’s not the most gracious farewell, but you feel no guilt. They searched for you for barely a day when you went overboard, their concern fleeting, unlike the depth of love you feel for Seokjin. 

Quickly, you dress, the mundane task filled with a sense of urgency, as if the moment might slip away if you don’t act fast. You find a piece of paper and scribble a brief note to Soohee, thanking her for her kindness and hospitality but explaining that you’re leaving to be with your boyfriend. You don’t mention anything about mermaids or the world beneath the sea; some things are too precious to share.

Hand in hand, you walk with Seokjin down to the beach, your heart beating vividly in your chest, each step a drumbeat of anticipation. Under the silvery light of the moon, you share a tender kiss, the world narrowing to just the two of you as you step into the water. The transformation is swift and mesmerizing—his legs give way to a stunning pink tail, shimmering like precious gemstones in the night.

You swim together, cutting through the water like you were born to it. Out in the open sea, far from the shore, he kisses you deeply, his lips salt-kissed and full of promise. “I’ll swim down and talk with the Sea Witch,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ll come back and tell you everything, okay?”

Time seems to stand still as you wait, the waves lapping gently around you, but it doesn’t feel long before his head breaks the surface again, a smile lighting up his face. 

“She said she can turn you back permanently if you want to,” he says, the words like music to your ears, “but the catch is you’ll never be able to revert to your human form again.”

You see a flicker of concern in his eyes, but for you, it’s a small price to pay. Your human life feels distant, like a dream you’ve already forgotten. The call of the sea, the promise of the life you once knew, is too strong to resist. With a resolute nod, you kiss him, the decision clear in your heart. “Please, tell her it’s fine. I just want to be a mermaid again.”

He nods, diving back into the depths, and moments later, the transformation begins. Your legs fuse together, your skin tingles as it turns to scales, and the familiar purple tail forms, glimmering under the water. Your clothes morph into a delicate seashell bra, and you swirl around, reveling in the change. With a burst of speed, you dive deep, almost colliding with Seokjin. You both burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up like joy itself.

“Hey, pretty,” he says, cupping your face and kissing you, his touch as tender as the first time.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, the love swelling within you, making you feel lighter than the water around you.

You kiss him again, a kiss full of joy, relief, and the overwhelming sense of being exactly where you’re meant to be. The sea, with its ancient structures, hidden caves, and vibrant marine life, feels like home once more. Seokjin holds you close, your tails entwining in an intimate embrace as you swim together, fingers lacing, bodies moving in perfect harmony. 

In this underwater world, where the boundaries of the physical fade into the ethereal, your love transcends the ordinary, becoming something larger than life. Your heart floats, carried by the sea’s gentle current, pulling you ever closer to Seokjin. You open your eyes, meeting his hazel gaze, and in his smile, you see your entire world.

As you swirl around each other, the vibrant marine life fades into the background. Fish, other merfolk, dolphins, and whales pass by, their beauty paling in comparison to the magic of Seokjin’s embrace.

“I love you so much, Seokjin,” you whisper, your hands moving to rest over his bare chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I love you so much too, babe,” he replies, his voice filled with emotion as he places his hand over your heart. With his other hand, he reveals a golden band with a shining pearl, its surface iridescent and familiar in the dim light. “Will you be mine forever?” he asks, his tone both tender and hopeful.

You smile, charmed by his romantic gesture. It’s the second time he’s proposed, understanding you lost the ring when you became human. The effort he put into finding it and presenting it to you again makes your heart swell with love.

“Of course,” you say, your voice filled with certainty. “I’ll be yours forever, and you’ll be mine.”

In that moment, you realize you need nothing else. With Seokjin by your side, true friends under the sea, and a supportive family, life is beautiful. You couldn’t ask for more. As you float in the embrace of the ocean, the vastness of the sea reflecting the endlessness of your love, you know you are home.

→ Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @suker4angst → Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still sometimes use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work (the banners)). → Author’s note(2): I feel so shitty with my writing (not that I think it’s bad, it’s just ‘meh’). I wrote this weeks ago, but I’m only publishing it now… I’m feeling very unmotivated, so this whole mermaid series might take some time to get finished, but I’ll try my best to finish them all 🥹 what do you think? Excited for the rest of the members’ stories? 💜

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[buddierecs]

jealous!evan buckley buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

if i need to rearrange my particles - i will for you by: dylaesthetics "buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has ptsd and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently" word count: 45k important tags: secret identity, anonymous messaging, angst, mental health, ptsd, anxiety, panic attacks, sexuality crisis, mutual pining, fluff and smut, masturbation meet me in the middle (underneath a little bit of mistletoe) by: princessfbi "buck and eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!" word count: 40k important tags: fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, smut, protective!eddie diaz, getting together, slow burn

finally found what i've been looking for by: fleetinghearts "buck's good at basketball, eddie's trying really hard not to commit an act of public indecency about it, and maybe, just maybe, a slightly bloody beachside pick-up game can be the start of something new" word count: 5k important tags: 7x04 spec, friends to lovers, fluff, unsafe sex, dry humping, hand jobs, praise kink 'till storm breaks loose by: markofalover "how an elbow to the face changes everything." word count: 6k important tags: 7x04, mutual pining, accidental injury, love confessions, getting together, possessive behaviour, sharing clothes, blow jobs, come eating, praise kink my home is your body by: coldbam "buck and eddie have vastly different nights at pride. then very similar summers" word count: 16k important tags: friends to lovers, friends with benefits, getting together, bottom!eddie diaz, top!evan buckley stay here, honey (i don't want to share) by: stockholm_syndrom "six months after eddie comes out to the team, and three months after eddie confesses his feelings for buck (and buck rejects him), eddie starts dating men. and buck is totally fine with that. really." word count: 9.6k important tags: mutual pining, oblivious!evan buckley, anal sex, oral sex, service top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz, praise kink hot and heavy by: 42hrb "five times eddie had casual sex with someone who wasn't buck and the time they finally got their shit together" word count: 9.4k important tags: 5+1 things, slutty!eddie diaz, mutual pining, idiots to lovers, casual sex, porn with feelings, oral sex seen by: snailboat64 "hen lets it slip that she knows eddie is a great dancer, and buck is determined to see him in action. when he does, it's a revelation" word count: 14k important tags: eddie can dance, insecure!evan buckley, smut what a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you by: prettyboybuckley "the au where they're both strippers and buck goes from "i hate this guy" to "oh fuck, i think i'm in love with him" word count: 21k important tags: stripper/exotic dancer au, college student!evan buckley, eventual smut, grinding, anal sex, praise kink i only ever want you by: bucksclipboard "there’s jealousy, there’s fighting, there’s delicious makeup sex" word count: 2.7k important tags: pre-relationship, getting together, team as family, porn with plot, grinding, blow jobs, make up sex possessive behaviour by: whiskis "buck gets really possessive when he’s jealous and just wants eddie to remember that he’s his." word count: 2.8k important tags: possessive behaviour, established relationship, fluff and smut, blow jobs, teasing no one's touched me there in a damn hot minute! by: bisexualbuckley "buck is a little shit during their lunch date and eddie puts him in his place. but he can't help giving buck everything he wants either, not when he's that pretty." word count: 4.8k important tags: established relationship, brat!evan buckley, possessive behaviour, boys in love, praise kink, prostate massage, orgasm control, anal fingering, aftercare

[feyascorner]

So might have noticed i have read all your fics and I absolutely love them all!

If your open to taking this request for a fic, i would love like 4 times astarion was jealous and 1 time you were! (I dont know if your familiar with the prompt). Tav sleeping with someone before they get together (act 1) he’s catching feelings! After relationship is established: Act 2 Halsin showing his interest (whether its reciprocated is up to you!). Act3 Shar’s caress, the owner talking about Tav’s interest and drow twins!

Finally, Tav being jealous! Astarion fully enjoying it!

Or just anything with jealous astarion i would LIVE for! Love your work either way 😆

a/n. THEYRE SO CUTE IM IN TEARS I LOVE JEALOUS ASTARION/TAV

also this is not proofread unfortunately, and I'm not 100% if i did this right but we rock and roll!!!1

As much as Astarion boasts (and resents) his familiarity with seduction, you're an anomaly he's yet to understand despite his centuries of experience.

Never once in his courtship, even when he'd been alive, had he felt so tested that he was jealous, over someone. Not really, anyway. Sure there were bits of bitter feelings here and there, but most were trivial and about something involved in the relationship, not the person themselves.

He's counted four times since the two of you met, where he had to resort to his better judgment to avoid resorting to pettiness. The first one, was out of necessity--so much so that he didn't even realize what it was at first.

He had watched you snuggle up to Shadowheart of all people, just when he thought he'd finally manipulated enough to have you wrapped around his finger. Instead, he had to hear you laugh as you let the cleric lead you to a nearby lake, making him question if somehow, he'd gotten rusty. Especially when the rival in question was clearly too busy having a religious crisis to properly court you. Sure, you technically didn't belong to him, nor did he belong to you at the time, but he went to sleep feeling oddly irritated. He made sure to flirt with you even more, apparently, the next morning.

The second time, he had accepted the strange feeling in his chest whenever he saw you. And Gods he should have done it earlier. He made sure to show plenty of public affection, kissing your cheek or hand randomly as you and your companions explored the shadow-cursed lands. He got a mouthful from Lae'zel a few times, but he couldn't care less. And just when he believed he'd eliminated any potential rivals, the damned druid suggested that you had feelings for him. Here, he felt that same churning feeling he had weeks ago at camp, and found it was one that he didn't long for. He wouldn't have blamed you if you'd considered it--especially since the two of you stopped being physically intimate after his confession. But he could deny how much he hated this feeling. Pretending he hadn't heard, waited for you to approach him that night. When you reassured him you'd said no, he could breathe again.

The last time was weeks later, at Sharess' Caress, where the two of you were approached by the drow twins. And when he'd confessed he wasn't ready to become intimate again, as much as it scared him, you only smiled at him and nodded. That cursed warmth he felt from such a simple act of kindness would follow him to the end of his days. But he hadn't had enough time to revel in it, because the drow twins assured you only you would be enough, even if he wasn't a part of it. The moment you refused, he was already dragging you out of the room, cursing the twins under his breath.

But for the first time, he thinks you're the one experiencing that dreadful feeling of insecurity.

"Your measurements are perfect for this new selection that just came in! Here, let me just check if the rest would fit."

He'd thought little of the harmless touches of the tailor, but as he notices your expression through the reflection of one of the mirrors, he thinks differently. Your lips are pursed, eyes following the tailor's movements like a hawk as you tighten the arms crossed over your chest. Astarion himself is no stranger to touch, especially to innocent ones like this, but if your body language means anything, the sentiments are not mutual.

The tailor reaches up to measure his arm span, inevitably bring their face a little to close to his neck. He just tilts away, nodding mindlessly at what the tailor is saying, but his attention is fully on you. You're fidgeting, and your anxiousness is impossibly obvious to him, but the more mischievous part of him stops him from doing anything about it. Instead, he revels in it.

"Did you get my inside leg?" he asks the tailor, grinning widely. "I think you might have to redo it. I was leaning a bit."

The tailor agrees though all he sees is a nod of a head and a voice in his ear going right through the other. He observes as your face falls, and just as the tailor crouches down and leans close, you're immediately across the room at record-speed, hand latching over the tailor's wrist.

Astarion barely manages to hold in his laugh. His smile, however, is another story.

"I'll do it," you mumble to the tailor. They look to you and back up to Astarion before seemingly realizing what's going on, nodding.

"Very well."

He never thought you could look even more alluring than he already finds you, but the way your jaw clenches and your brows furrow makes him think otherwise. You lean down and take the measurements as needed, stomping on his foot in the process.

He snorts.

Once the tailor leaves for the stock room, he finds you sighing. "You did that on purpose."

It's not a question. He laughs, and while he could just apologize, he takes your hand in his, tilting your head with the other so you'd look at him. He might even consider the glare you give him as cute.

"Jealous, are you?"

"What do you think?"

"I was starting to think you weren't capable of jealousy."

"Why not?" you say, feeling his thumb rubs the top of your hand. "I've been plenty jealous before."

At this, he raises a brow. "I'd surely remember that."

"When we first met," you recall. "You flirted with practically everyone in camp. Saying you wanted to drink from Wyll, or something like that."

"You must know that I was--"

"I know what it was," you roll your eyes. "Not at the time though, and I thought you'd lost interest in me."

His jaw falls agape. "You're jesting."

"Why do you think I started flirting with other people? I figured you didn't like me as much as I liked you, so I moved on. Tried, at least."

"Is that what your visits to Shadowheart were?"

You scrunch your nose. "Oh Gods, I forgot about that. I'd rather not remember sleeping with one of my closest friends, thanks."

He can't help the grin stretching on his lips, and you notice, feeling yourself smile with him. "You're enjoying this far too much, Astarion."

"Please, tell me the next time you're jealous, so I'll know to keep an eye on you."

"Don't ask such ridiculous things," you retort, feigning annoyance before lifting his palm to your cheek and pressing a kiss to it. He swears his undead heart might've felt it. And just like that, the tailor returns, and you drop your intertwined hands, and he sees you shoot him a warning glare.

Acknowledging he's had enough fun teasing you today, he shrugs, and when the tailor begins showing him an array of outfits, he's not listening. Instead, he toys with the ring behind his back, making sure to commit your expression to his memory.

[somewherefornow]

RENEE MONTOYA/THE QUESTION & HELENA BERTINELLI/HUNTRESS + THE PLAN in FINAL CRISIS REVELATIONS (2008)

[snowlithills]

Theses on Monsters, China Mieville

1.

The history of all hitherto-existing societies is the history of monsters. Homo sapiens is a bringer-forth of monsters as reason’s dream. They are not pathologies but symptoms, diagnoses, glories, games, and terrors.

2.

To insist that an element of the impossible and fantastic is a sine qua non of monstrousness is not mere nerd hankering (though it is that too). Monsters must be creature forms and corpuscles of the unknowable, the bad numinous. A monster is somaticized sublime, delegate from a baleful pleroma. The telos of monstrous quiddity is godhead.

3.

There is a countervailing tendency in the monstrous corpus. It is evident in Pokémon’s injunction to “catch ’em all,” in the Monster Manual’s exhaustive taxonomies, in Hollywood’s fetishized “Monster Shot.” A thing so evasive of categories provokes—and surrenders to—ravenous desire for specificity, for an itemization of its impossible body, for a genealogy, for an illustration. The telos of monstrous quiddity is specimen.

4.

Ghosts are not monsters.

5.

It is pointed out, regularly and endlessly, that the word “monster” shares roots with “monstrum,” “monstrare,” “monere“—”that which teaches,” “to show,” “to warn.” This is true but no longer of any help at all, if it ever was.

6.

Epochs throw up the monsters they need. History can be written of monsters, and in them. We experience the conjunctions of certain werewolves and crisis-gnawed feudalism, of Cthulhu and rupturing modernity, of Frankenstein’s and Moreau’s made things and a variably troubled Enlightenment, of vampires and tediously everything, of zombies and mummies and aliens and golems/robots/clockwork constructs and their own anxieties. We pass also through the endless shifts of such monstrous germs and antigens into new wounds. All our moments are monstrous moments.

7.

Monsters demand decoding, but to be worthy of their own monstrosity, they avoid final capitulation to that demand. Monsters mean something, and/but they mean everything, and/but they are themselves and irreducible. They are too concretely fanged, toothed, scaled, fire-breathing, on the one hand, and too doorlike, polysemic, fecund, rebuking of closure, on the other, merely to signify, let alone to signify one thing.

Any bugbear that can be completely parsed was never a monster, but some rubber-mask-wearing Scooby-Doo villain, a semiotic banality in fatuous disguise. It is a solution without a problem.

8.

Our sympathy for the monster is notorious. We weep for King Kong and the Creature from the Black Lagoon, no matter what they’ve done. We root for Lucifer and ache for Grendel.

It is a trace of skepticism that the given order is a desideratum that lies behind our tears for its antagonists, our troubled empathy with the invader of Hrothgar’s hall.

9.

Such sympathy for the monster is a known factor, a small problem, a minor complication for those who, in drab reaction, deploy an accusation of monstrousness against designated social enemies.

10.

When those same powers who enmonster their scapegoats reach a tipping point, a critical mass, of political ire, they abruptly and with bullying swagger enmonster themselves. The shock troops of reaction embrace their own supposed monstrousness. (From this investment emerged, for example, the Nazi Werwolf program.) Such are by far more dreadful than any monster because, their own aggrandizements notwithstanding, they are not monsters. They are more banal and more evil.

11.

The saw that We Have Seen the Real Monsters and They Are Us is neither revelation, nor clever, nor interesting, nor true. It is a betrayal of the monstrous, and of humanity.

[la2yn0va]

lf you have the time to make part 4 of friends after the events of part 2 stellaron hunter m/n take a break so he go to xianzhou to see the event ( moze,jiaoqiu,any chance feixiao saw then and go to he friendly enough to talk them) image feixiao saw m/n watching her.fighting hoolay and joined her and fight along side any characters of your choice

BTW you will have finished it I don't know what happened next BC I will have a break to HSR so yeah I WANT FLUFF AND ANGST (oh boy this one will be different)

Friends…?

Note: 2.5 is out, I can finally do this! This can be taken as romantic or Platonic.

———

Kafka: M/n~

M/n: Kafka.

The two greeted each other. M/n cracked his neck and walked over to her.

M/n: So what’s happening? Was firefly talking shit again?

Kafka: Hah. Since when did firefly ever do such things? Are you still held up about our little ‘bounty’ competition?

M/n: Your god damn right I am! She came in outta NOWHERE and took my place as the second most dangerous stellaron hunter! Fuck that! She used a whole as fucking mech suit to do that!

Kafka watched, with an amused smile. It’s always a joy to see m/n rant on about this like an irritated child. She let him talk for a bit more, before patting his face.

Kafka: Now now. As much as I’m enjoying this, I’m afraid you have a mission~

M/n: Hah? I do?

Kafka nodded

M/n: FUCK!

He flicked his body around, walking around before stopping and taking a breath.

M/n: Come on! I had to take care of that little trailblazer in belabog and the xianzhou abit before it was reveled I was a stellaron..— WHATEVER—! Sigh, what’s the mission?

Kafka: Similar to fireflies mission in penacony. You’re going back to the xianzhou. Elio has seen that you must find something there. That and, you must lend a helping hand when the problem comes.

M/n: Back to the xianzhou? and I have to find something…is it something internal like firefly…when do I leave?

Kafka: You have 5 minutes before wolfie teleports you somewhere safe at the luofu. Put on your best outfit, handsome.

She waved before walking out of his room. M/n stood there for a minute before sighing.

M/n: Firefly found something at penacony, and now me… is Elio trying to heal us or something? No… we have nothing to lose anyway… why would destiny bother with that?

-Timeskip-

M/n had been at the xianzhou for not even 2 hours and shit had already hit the fan. Guess that’s the xianzhou specialty nowadays. M/n had been walking around, rooftop to rooftop, trying to find anything.

He did see the nameless and played around with them for a bit, before leaving. And now, hoolay had escaped and his friend jiaoqiu had been captured as hostage.

M/n cursed at the whole situation. A part of him still was a cloud knight, seeing everything go to shit had stung him, but it wasn’t what bothered him. Honesty, the whole luofu could get destroyed and he wouldn’t care. But the borisin have his friend!

As he was searching for him, many unpleasant memories came rushing back to him. How he left the yaoqing, how he joined the stellaron hunters to revert himself back to how he was before he was forced to face an identity and internal crisis after meeting his ‘o so great mother’ how he regretted the way he left, but ultimately he accepted all this.

He eventually came across moze, trailblazer, and feixiao. He stopped, seeing how injured Moze was and listened in to their conversation, learning that hoolay was headed to the ship where the war dance was being held.

He immediately headed there, managing to jump his way up there. He quickly searched the entire ship, finding some borisin and killing then off after asking for jiaoqiu’s location. Apparently only hoolay knew. Much to his annoyance and slight excitement. He felt the ship shake and immediately sped up to the arena, seeing feixiao face off with hoolay.

He watched silently. Should he help? Why should he…?! It was HER fault why Jiaoqiu got kidnapped in the first place…. No.. no he’s just being childish. He jumped up and landed a diving kick onto the warheads jaw, having enough strength and rage to break his jaw.

Feixiao, March, Yanqing, and yunli watched in pure shock. Stellaron hunter m/n was here! But he was helping them!? M/n didn’t face them yet, he landed on the ground before turning around and slamming a fist onto hoolay’s chest, pushing him away from them.

March & Feixiao: M-M/n!?

Yunli & Yanqing: Stellaron hunter!?

M/n: I see I’m famous

He joked turning to face them, well mostly feixiao. Walking towards her, she clicked her tongue before getting ready to fight.

M/n: Your pointing that at the wrong person.

Feixiao: What’re you doing here!

M/n: Tsk. You see me after our little meeting in the interrogation room and this is how you react? Typical. I’m here to help fix YOUR fuck up.

Feixiao: M-my.. what’re you—

M/n: Jiaoqiu is captured. So point your damn blade at that mutt over there!

He stood besides her, talking out his own dual blades. Feixiao could only stare in surprise. She knew that m/n’s meant to make her feel guilty for Jiaoqiu, which worked, but… she can’t help but feel happy that he’s here, fighting along side her once more.

Feixiao: Fine.

March, Yunli, Yanqing: WHAT!!?

M/n: You three are still here?

Feixiao: Relax. Right now we have a common enemy. And that’s hoolay. We’ll deal with the m/n situation later!

M/n: Glad you care about me THAT much!

He bit back as feixiao smiled. Hoolay roared and ran towards the duo as they dashed in. The two began to bombard hoolay, their old teamwork slowly reviving and putting on a show for anyone who watched.

Feixiao couldn’t help but have a smile carved in her face. What was meant to be an emotional turmoil for her was quelled with m/n’s presence here. Just like back then. How it should’ve been, how it SHOULD be.

Hoolay was quickly defeated, but then ripped his heart out and threw it in the sky, infecting foxian’s with moon rage. Feixiao however, used her power to swallow the crimson moon, becoming the enemy. The trio swordsmaters wanted to help. But m/n refused, out right kicking them down to the luofu, leaving the arena with only HIM and feixiao.

-Inside Feixiao’s Mind-

Hoolay: Ahh.. that man. M/n? Possibly your biggest regret.

Hoolay teased as an imagine if a confused and crying m/n appeared in front of him and feixiao. Feixiao’s eyes widened as she stared at this afterimage.

M/n: I hate this… why do I even care!? Why should I care!!? I DONT GET IT!! WHAT THE HELL AM I MEANT TO FELL HERE!! AM I EVEN HUMAN!!? HELP!! WOULD SOMEONE JUST… HELP!!

It yelled, making feixiao wince at the sight and hoolay laugh.

Hoolay: The “lacking” general. Lacking in worries, regrets, and rivals! Hahahaha!! What a pathetic front! This one man destroys that foolish title of yours!

Another afterimagine appeared, showing m/n standing ontop of corpses of abominations and borisin, His eyes looked dead, his body limp.

Hoolay: Instead of helping your ‘friend’ you sent him off to fight in a war! And that’s when he realized how you truly felt about him! You only ever saw him as a soilder!

Feixiao’s eyes stung as she walked up to the afterimagine. Which changed to make its head stare ahead, right where Feixiao stood.

Hoolay: A capable warrior indeed! A powerful solider that was meant to be used by their superior! A remarkable weapon! That’s all you ever saw him as. And he knows it!

M/n: I’m…not even human. When have I ever been… even to the cloud knights. I’m just a pawn, a dog meant to die when they order me to… even SHE sees me as a dog…

Feixiao reached out, putting her and on his face as her saddened eyes stared into his dead ones as hoolay continued to torment her.

Hoolay: You only ever comforted him once, and you made it clear that you just wanted him at his best so he could battle!!

Feixiao: You were never a dog nor solider in my eyes.. your were ALWAYS my friend. You will forever be my closest friend… it’s me… I’m the one who saw myself as a weapon! You were always the only one that made me feel human!

She yelled, before slapping the afterimage away, once again ridding herself of the guilt she carried within herself for all these years. Hoolay didn’t seem pleased as a battle quickly escalated between her and a shadow of herself, the darkest parts of her.

As she held up her waraxe, two people appeared beside her. Two m/n’s from her own mindscape.

Evil!Feixiao: What?!

Feixiao: M/n…

Past M/n: You look troubled general~ don’t tell me that your scared I’ll take your general title~

Present m/n: Get your head together. You always pull me into your shit feixiao.

She looked at the two before smiling as the three got ready to battle hoolay.

-Timeskip, after the battle-

M/n groaned as he flopped against a wall of an alleyway. He finished his battle with feixiao and hoolay, and now he was tired, very tired. But, he didn’t let himself rest, he still needed to find jiaoqiu.

He had to escape from cloud knights and now was pushing himself to continue his search. He decided to head to the alchemy commission, to steal some ornaments. Once he arrived, he saw jiaoqiu! And he was walking!

He sighed in relief, knowing he can leave in peace. He took out his phone and messgaed silverwolf, ready to get teleported away. Only for her to replay “Elio said you still have some people to confront”

M/n: …fuck me…

He sighed before watching jiaoqiu walk towards the waves. He waited as feixiao walked to jiaoqiu and moze reveled himself, but he froze. Should he actually go out and talk to them? Does he have that right anymore?

Moze: Will you revel yourself.

Moze said as they all faced the direction where m/n was. M/n sighed, knowing he should’ve expected them to know he was here. He walked out, holding his side for a few seconds before facing them.

Moze: M/n..!

Jiaoqiu: What..!?

Moze said, shocked that it was him that was spying on them. Feixiao offered him a warm smile, and m/n looked back with slight irritation. Looking at jiaoqiu and his much duller eyes, showing m/n his blindness.

M/n:…I blame you.

He said looking at feixiao. Whose face twitched with guilt. Moze looked towards Feixiao, wondering if he should attack, but she shook her head.

Jiaoqiu: M/n..? Is that actually you…!

M/n:…yes.. it’s me—

M/n’s eyes shot open, seeing Jiaoqiu running towards his voice with a clenched fist. He raised his hand but stopped, deciding to not block it. He allowed jiaoqiu to hit him, actually feeling some blood drop from his nose.

Jiaoqiu: You have any idea how much I’ve wanted to do that…?

M/n slowly looked back, swiping the blood from his nose away with his thumb.

M/n: Yeah. Some level of idea.

He said moving his hand to ruffle his hair like he always did back then. Jiaoqiu allowed it to continue for a few seconds before slapping his hand away, not forgiving m/n.

M/n looked saddened by this but understood. He looked towards moze who looked indifferent of the whole situation, but m/n could see through moze. He was happy, and abit irritated m/n was here.

M/n: it is nice to see you again, Moze. Taking care of lil’ jiao for me?

Moze nodded and jiaoqiu looked away after hearing his old nickname. M/n looked towards feixiao. Looking abit more stoic.

M/n: general.

Her ears twitched at the title, shaking her head.

Feixiao: No please. Call me feixiao.

M/n:….feixiao.

He re-greeted, which earned a soft smile from her. M/n sighed, not knowing where to go from here.

M/n:…you all have something to say to me. So say it. I already checked the area. It’s just us here… let me have it.

Jiaoqiu: Your a selfish prick.

Moze: Your an Irrational fucking mongrel!

Feixiao: Your a reckless dumbass that doesn’t think of others first!

M/n, stayed still. Accepting the verbal insults. He crossed his arms and looked away, his mind still in abit of a frenzy. After about 10 minutes of verbal abuse, the three calmed down.

M/n: well…guess all that was warranted.

Jiaoqiu: You think?

Jiaoqiu bit back. M/n just sighed and responded with a ‘yes’

M/n:…well. I believe we’re done here.

He turned around but his hand was instantly caught by feixiao.

Feixiao: Wait!

M/n did as he was told. Standing still, he looked back to see feixiao and her pleading eyes, looking as if she’d die right there if he left.

M/n: what do you want general.

Feixiao:…I know.. you don’t like me. Back then. You came to me for help because you weren’t truly at all good with emotions. So when you met your—

M/n: skip the fucking recap.

Feixiao: Mm—…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry my actions that day, which left you even more in turmoil than you already were in. I’m sorry I was being a general and not a friend. I’m sorry I made you think you meant nothing to me… in truth you meant everything to me. You WERE everything. Not just to me, but to us.

She said, holding out an arm towards moze and jiaoqiu.

Feixiao: Please… tell me how I can fix this. There has to be a way. A solution! Please, tell me anything. I’ll do anything to prove how sorry I am.

M/n: oh? And what if I want your life.

Feixiao: Take it.

Jiaoqiu and moze released a slightly surprised sound, as m/n held his blade against her neck.

Feixiao: If that’s what it’ll take for you to forgive me. Then I’ll gladly die by your hands.

M/n:….tsk. No need to be serious…. I forgive you…

He said, putting his blade away. Feixiao looked surprised but smiled, allowing the most joyful smile ever to grace their eyes. M/n, released a breath, turning to leave.

M/n: I guess we’re don—

Feixiao: Can you stay longer!

M/n: huh..?

Feixiao: Can..can you come back! Stay with us. Become a cloud knight with us again!

She said desperately. Wanting to spread more time with him, as did moze and jiaoqiu. M/n looked away and scratched his hair.

M/n: i don’t think I—

He was cutoff by a notification from his phone, taking it out and seeing a message from… blade?

Blade: Kafka has informed me to message you. She said your mission was complete, I read your script. If you want another opinion, I’d suggest you either take your generals head, or work on fixing your relationship with them.

M/n: no fucking way he wasn’t manipulated into sending this message!!

He said in his mind, but sighing. Putting his phone away. He looked towards the three and walked back to them.

M/n: Lucky for you, I have time off… let’s..get a party going I guess.

He said, abit awkwardly. Feixiao smiled and jumped onto him, hugging him tightly, much to his surprise. Jiaoqiu also joined in while Moze simply patted m/n’s head.

Moze: Let’s get a move on. I haven’t cleaned your house today.

M/n: You’ve been cleaning my house this whole time!?

-The End-

[starrystevie]

it doesn't happen as a revelation. there's no jolting pain in his chest that sends steve reeling, no internal crisis that has him shaking on the bathroom floor, no shocking sense of guilt or desperation or fire licking in his veins. nothing that makes the world stop spinning and making him trip over his feet.

it's a normal moment when he realizes he's in love with eddie.

they're sitting in steve's car, ac blasting and music on low for once, waiting for a handful of the kids to get done with their final exams. they don't pick them up as much anymore and steve pointedly ignores how much he misses the times of carting them all around before mike started a ripple effect and got his license. but they're taking the kids to the lake after school to try and enjoy the last bits of non-suffocating sunshine before summer really hits, just like old times.

it isn't a revelation in the sense that it's some earth shattering event, but more like a moment of clarity. eddie's hair blows back for a second and he's blabbering about something from the dnd game he played the night before with his shop buddies with a wide grin and animated hands and the sun glints off the puckered pink scar on the side of his face in the most perfect way and he's beautiful and-

oh.

oh.

steve's vision seems clearer than it has in a while. his lungs feel a bit more shaky but not in a bad way, his heart stumbles against his ribcage like it's tripped over itself and the butterflies in his chest are the only things catching it. he laughs to himself because of course this has to happen when he wasn't expecting it, when he doesn't have a plan, but then eddie's looking at him and he knows he doesn't need one. not yet, anyway.

"you good, man?" eddie asks, eyebrows crinkled together and smirk on his face. he's painted golden in the afternoon sun, shining as bright as the north star. steve's always liked gold.

it's taken steve years to get here. the two of them have grown up together in the way that teenagers do while they figure out the roads laid out before them. they've learned each other's ins and outs through long nights and early mornings and everything in between. he knows his breathing, the way his footsteps sound, the smell of his aftershave, the feeling of his hands on his shoulders. it all comes together in this perfect package wrapped up in a perfect bow and for once, steve lets himself hope like he's a kid on christmas morning.

"yeah," he shakes his head to clear out the eddie-shaped stars in his vision, offers up a smirk of his own. it's taken years to get here so he still has time to do this right. "perfect."

[deception-united]

Let's talk about story structure.

Fabricating the narrative structure of your story can be difficult, and it can be helpful to use already known and well-established story structures as a sort of blueprint to guide you along the way. Before we delve into a few of the more popular ones, however, what exactly does this term entail?

Story structure refers to the framework or organization of a narrative. It is typically divided into key elements such as exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution, and serves as the skeleton upon which the plot, characters, and themes are built. It provides a roadmap of sorts for the progression of events and emotional arcs within a story.

Freytag's Pyramid:

Also known as a five-act structure, this is pretty much your standard story structure that you likely learned in English class at some point. It looks something like this:

Exposition: Introduces the characters, setting, and basic situation of the story.

Inciting incident: The event that sets the main conflict of the story in motion, often disrupting the status quo for the protagonist.

Rising action: Series of events that build tension and escalate the conflict, leading toward the story's climax.

Climax: The highest point of tension or the turning point in the story, where the conflict reaches its peak and the outcome is decided.

Falling action: Events that occur as a result of the climax, leading towards the resolution and tying up loose ends.

Resolution (or denouement): The final outcome of the story, where the conflict is resolved, and any remaining questions or conflicts are addressed, providing closure for the audience.

Though the overuse of this story structure may be seen as a downside, it's used so much for a reason. Its intuitive structure provides a reliable framework for writers to build upon, ensuring clear progression and emotional resonance in their stories and drawing everything to a resolution that is satisfactory for the readers.

The Fichtean Curve:

The Fichtean Curve is characterised by a gradual rise in tension and conflict, leading to a climactic peak, followed by a swift resolution. It emphasises the building of suspense and intensity throughout the narrative, following a pattern of escalating crises leading to a climax representing the peak of the protagonist's struggle, then a swift resolution.

Initial crisis: The story begins with a significant event or problem that immediately grabs the audience's attention, setting the plot in motion.

Escalating crises: Additional challenges or complications arise, intensifying the protagonist's struggles and increasing the stakes.

Climax: The tension reaches its peak as the protagonist confronts the central obstacle or makes a crucial decision.

Falling action: Following the climax, conflicts are rapidly resolved, often with a sudden shift or revelation, bringing closure to the narrative. Note that all loose ends may not be tied by the end, and that's completely fine as long as it works in your story—leaving some room for speculation or suspense can be intriguing.

The Hero’s Journey:

The Hero's Journey follows a protagonist through a transformative adventure. It outlines their journey from ordinary life into the unknown, encountering challenges, allies, and adversaries along the way, ultimately leading to personal growth and a return to the familiar world with newfound wisdom or treasures.

Call of adventure: The hero receives a summons or challenge that disrupts their ordinary life.

Refusal of the call: Initially, the hero may resist or hesitate in accepting the adventure.

Meeting the mentor: The hero encounters a wise mentor who provides guidance and assistance.

Crossing the threshold: The hero leaves their familiar world and enters the unknown, facing the challenges of the journey.

Tests, allies, enemies: Along the journey, the hero faces various obstacles and adversaries that test their skills and resolve.

The approach: The hero approaches the central conflict or their deepest fears.

The ordeal: The hero faces their greatest challenge, often confronting the main antagonist or undergoing a significant transformation.

Reward: After overcoming the ordeal, the hero receives a reward, such as treasure, knowledge, or inner growth.

The road back: The hero begins the journey back to their ordinary world, encountering final obstacles or confrontations.

Resurrection: The hero faces one final test or ordeal that solidifies their transformation.

Return with the elixir: The hero returns to the ordinary world, bringing back the lessons learned or treasures gained to benefit themselves or others.

Exploring these different story structures reveals the intricate paths characters traverse in their journeys. Each framework provides a blueprint for crafting engaging narratives that captivate audiences. Understanding these underlying structures can help gain an array of tools to create unforgettable tales that resonate with audiences of all kind.

Happy writing! Hope this was helpful ❤

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