#fun fact i was there when he recorded this scene

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

I've been having fun with the audiobook

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Hey there! As always, I have Sea Glass Gardens on the brain, and I was wondering if there are any moments or details you've written that you really like, but people haven't noticed/pointed out yet? Or that they have, but you still have a lot of thoughts on. (this is free license to ramble about anything you want!)

I think I probably would have to say the Maki/Tsumiki confrontation in chapter 5.

Writing that was really fun because it was like an iceberg to me. There was so much buried in both of them that just sort of lingered outside where Yuuta could see.

I have a sort of love hate relationship with limited povs. On one hand, I love making up lore for shit. I love having a bunch of silly little details that don’t exactly feed into the story but build the world.

(As a total aside, I wrote pez dispenser debris while in a burnout fueled feverish haze while studying for the bar exam and 90% of what enthralled me with it was giving myself permission to just fucking. Let loose on cramming in all the little backstories. It was my fun silly story I was allowed to make technical mistakes on just to make something that made me happy. It was like splatter paint art to me. Probably half of that fic is scenes that are completely irrelevant to the plot or but that was the fun of it).

On the other hand, I love having to sort of climb around inside a story that has the inherently skewed view that comes from having a limited POV. It feels like stained glass in my head. I don’t know how to explain it better. The entire story is just colored by the glass of the character perspective. It makes for a very pretty and fractured story, even if it comes at the cost of a lot of the background.

Whenever I’m working with limited POV, I just sort of bury details that I feel like it would make me go nuts if I saw it.

A lot of my fic writing is just sort of playing connect the dots with stuff canon leaves behind? A lot of the conflict in sea glass gardens comes from one line in the second Toji v Gojo throw down. Gojo has some throw away line about how the good thing about inheriting a technique was that you got a playbook, but the bad thing was that so did everyone else. Toji was Zenin, so he knew Gojo’s technique, but the gojo clan had kept hollow purple as a carefully guarded secret.

That led to:

The initial conflict, with Megumi having partial custody with the Zenin. If clans have secrets they keep with their techniques, then it’s a tactical disadvantage to not have access to that information. It’s a huge selling point for letting the Zenin have partial custody. It’s an actual advantage the Zenin could give him.

The primary conflict, which is that the Zenin are keeping secrets around megumis technique which means 1) that they don’t know what the Zenin did to megumi 2) why they did it or 3) how to fix it.

The fact that gojos teaching megumi from the gojo playbook on his technique, which is incomplete, which lends to his own lack of understanding of the capacity of his own technique.

Some of Maki’s uncertainty around her own clan’s technique. When talking with gojo, she seemed uncertain of whether some of the details were legend or fact. She’s mentioned before that she only knows the basics, and everything else is kept in a guarded book that only the ten shadows and the clan head can access. She didn’t know what Megumi’s domain expansion would manifest as, if he was able to use it at all, and seemed surprised to know gojo knew the details. The clans are keeping secrets from their own members about these techniques to maintain tactical advantages the way the gojo did with hollow purple.

A lot of the underlying atmospheric tension around Megumi’s adoption and the motive that everyone else has read into it. Taking Megumi in childhood allows Gojo to 1) cut off the user of the Zenin clan’s most powerful technique from his knowledge base and 2) observe his technique as it develops and get a chance to uncover its secrets. He’s seemingly crippling megumis knowledge around his own abilities while cementing the gojo’s understanding of it. Of course no one thinks it was a genuine adoption. It has all the makings of a tactical move.

The future difficulty in resolving the conflict. It’s not as simple as “well at the end of the day no one wants megumi dead, just tell Shoko how to fix this.” The clans gain a discernible tactical advantage from keeping secrets from each other. They aren’t going to give up secrets if they think it’s going to go straight into the Gojo clan archives. Especially considering he’s already got unprecedented access to information on the ten shadows simply by watching megumi grow up.

A few other plot points we haven’t gotten to yet so I won’t discuss them.

It’s stuff like that. A lot of my fanfic is just kicking around what canon already gives and having fun with it. So I like just implanting the details that I know I’d have fun playing with, and tsumiki and maki’s conversation was loaded with that.

A lot of the conflict in Tsumiki and Maki's conversation is sourced in the fact that they start it off playing an unknowing game of verbal whackamole. They keep stumbling straight into each other's biggest insecurities and touchy points and not realizing it.

To start off, they both have pretty ample reason to be off kilter and high on emotion. Maki was picked up out of a pool of her own blood a couple days ago. Out of all of them, it was only her and Yuuta that Geto was actually going to kill. Geto himself said that Gojo knew he wouldn't have killed Inumaki and Panda, and that Gojo sent them to set off Yuuta. But maki was the monkey. She was wounded the worst. And she was the only one who fought Geto alone. She's still shaken and doesn't want to admit it.

Tsumiki, meanwhile, has been on the brink for days. The last time she saw her family, she was being told by gojo that a genocial maniac that wants her specific demographic dead had just declared war. Then, her fourteen year old brother disappeared. She then immediately lost contact with every single person in her life and social network.

Is Megumi dead? Did he do exactly what she thought he was going to do and camp outside her school to watch for genocidal cultists? Did he get himself killed because she wouldn't skip school? What about everyone else? Are they okay? Why has she lost contact with her entire family?

She didn't have any working phone numbers. She didn't have any way of finding them. It's directly stated in canon that Tengen's barriers are directed to deterring and concealing it from non-sorcerers, so she's not even sure if she'll be able to get into the school without Megumi or Gojo. And then all of her worst fears were confirmed, and Megumi was actively bleeding out and visibly terrified when she finally got him back. He just died in front of her. She had to personally pump his heart to try and get him back.

As a result, they've both got a shorter fuse and are a little bit more reactive than they'd normally be going into the conversation.

So of course the absolute first thing they do is ram straight into sensitive points.

Maki is the first one to do it. She calls Megumi the "Ten Shadows" instead of his name. And that sets off Tsumiki, who is willing to rip out throats over this at the best of times, and who is sitting there with her brother's blood still on her.

The thing is, Maki genuinely meant no wrong by it. It's just what they always call him in the clan. She didn't know he hated it. She barely remembered him, and the clan leadership wasn't exactly advertising how much megumi hated everything they did. And it had never had a negative connotation for her growing up--fuck, it was the biggest term of respect you could get from her shithole family.

Except Tsumiki didn't have the context of "it's basically a title and also a bigger honor than Clan Head." All she knew was 1) that they refused to call Megumi anything else 2) no one else was called by their technique instead of their name and 3) (to her knowledge) there's nothing special about being the Ten Shadows that would cast this in a more positive light. I've discussed this in another post, but Megumi thinks of being called the Ten Shadows like being called "Excel spreadsheet" by a boss who hired you for being microsoft proficient. To his knowledge, the Zenin bought him because he was a sorcerer who inherited a technique, and there's nothing deeper to it. They're just calling him that to constantly throw in his face that he's just a technique to them.

And Tsumiki knows her brother well enough to be able to say when something legitimately got under his skin. This was dehumanizing. It was another way the Zenin abused him. Without the context of "it's an ancient honor in my clan to be called that," she thought that a member of the family that abused her little brother didn't even have the decency to lay off now, when he's still struggling to keep his heart beating in his chest.

Of course, she didn't realize the mere fact that pointing out that Maki was Zenin and looked Zenin was a sore spot, because she had always sort of worried she'd never escape being the Zenin clan reject when everyone can see the Zenin in her appearance.

What Tsumiki doesn't know is a huge driving source of the continued misunderstandings in the dialogue--namely, the fact that she doesn't know the true importance of the Ten Shadows technique to the Zenin clan. But I tried to imply throughout that she had really, really good reason to think that she did.

I feel like it's a trope to sort of have the non-magic/superpowered member of the family to be sort of clueless about the inner workings of the magic world or whatever, but I didn't want that for Tsumiki. It didn't fit with the version living in my head. This a world her brother's hurtling towards joining fully. It's her family's world. She doesn't want to be locked out of it.

And the thing is? She exhibits a pretty good command over knowledge of the jujutsu world--and, specifically, the Zenin clan. She had glasses imbued with cursed energy like Maki's. She knew enough about cursed energy to come up with a theory about why Megumi seized--and Shoko later confirmed that she was probably right.

I also tried to have her display understanding of Zenin custom and action that an outsider wouldn't have.

She knows enough about them to know that they're a tradition-obsessed, ancestor-obsessed group of weirdos obsessed with maintaining lineage. She knows they prefer inherited techniques. She knows they've got a pretty large population size. She even knows that they practice incest, because she takes a crack at Maki with it and calls them inbred.

And that's one of the details that I think can be really fun to play with, as a reader-- why does she know that? Yuuta's been living fully in the jujutsu world for months, and he doesn't know that. That's a really random, specific detail to know about a family she doesn't spend any personal time with. How did Tsumiki learn about it?

Did someone bitch about it one day and she found out about it in passing? Or was there a deeper story behind why she learned that? It was meant to sort of dovetail with something Maki said later in the same conversation--Gojo had kept the Zenin from marrying Megumi off. Not "Your brother's a literal child and too young to be married, no one would have even considered it"--no, she was relying solely on the fact that Gojo was protecting Megumi, which implies that the Zenin would have at least considered it.

And it's one of those things where there's no single "correct" meaning to it. It's open to a lot of reader interpretation and it makes it fun to play with. Maybe she did only learn about it in passing, and the two comments were unrelated. Or maybe the Zenin already broached the topic of when Megumi would be procreating and with which of his cousins, and Tsumiki found out from that.

The Zenin are bloodline obsessed, and I personally headcanon that all major sorcerer clans are because their techniques are basically trade secrets to them. They're specific to each clan and they are practically the currency their world runs on. If a member of the Gojo clan runs off and marries someone from the Kamo clan and joins the Kamo in the process, and their child is born with the six eyes and limitless, they've basically lost their most valuable asset to their rival. If someone leaves the clan and that child is born with, say, the most powerful technique in their bloodline--well, then you've basically set your most valuable asset off into the crapshoot that is the wider world's genetic lottery.

Say Megumi stays outside the clan, has a kid with someone not affiliated with any clan, and keeps that kid outside the clan. That kid has a kid. That kid has three kids. Those three kids have eleven kids total. So on and so forth, until a few centuries have passed and the ten shadows is being inherited again and there's some random nobody out there from a family who doesn't even remember having jujutsu sorcery in their bloodline but who is, technically, of Zenin blood, and descended from the last ten shadows. What happens if they get it?

Megumi's proof of concept--call it fate, call it destiny, call it random chance, but his existence suggests that whatever designates who's going to inherit the shadows next doesn't care about actual clan membership. Megumi has Zenin blood, but he had no contact whatsoever with his family before this. The Ten shadows technique is something that can be lost.

Yuuta, too, is oddly a proof of concept as well, now that the jujutsu world knows he exists. He's a random descendant from a major sorcerer line, connected distantly to the Gojo clan no less, so far attenuated that there's no one in his family that even remembers their connection. But he's one of the most powerful people on the planet. The Ten Shadows could be inherited by a distant, attenuated member of the Zenin line.

I included those lines as a detail that really could be stretched as far as the reader wanted to take it. Maybe it doesn't mean anything of importance. Maybe it means that the Zenin tried to negotiate some kind of advance rights to any kids that Megumi had. Maybe it means they took it farther, and tried to negotiate for an arranged marriage and a schedule for when he'd be expected to reproduce. his bloodlines important to maintain, after all. Maybe it was something else entirely.

Tsumiki also has a laundry list of examples that suggests she's had a front row seat to them disrespecting Megumi's boundaries over the years. They kept trying to take custody. They tried to force him to change his name. They did something so terrible to him when they had visitation that he wanted to go no contact. She's got a body of experiences eating at her that make her view the Zenin as a threat that megumi needs to be protected from, and he needs protection now more than ever, which is a lot of what feeds the tension behind the discussion with Maki.

With all of that knowledge in mind, Tsumiki has great reason to think she knows what she's talking about when it comes to Megumi and the Zenin clan. Like, this isn't her talking out her ass or condescending to people who know better--she has more reason to think she knows what's going on with the Zenin than Maki. Maki actually grew up with the clan, but Tsumiki grew up with Megumi. She knows this world. she knows what the zenin are like. And unlike Maki, she actually knows what the Zenin did to him all those years ago. The only thing she doesn't know is what Gojo purposefully hid from her, which is the truth of what the Ten Shadows really is.

And it's pretty reasonable to think that your guardian would have mentioned "by the way megumi is like magic jesus reborn to his psychotic relatives" at least once in ten years, right? Like Tsumiki isn't a character who knows nothing and just talks down to someone actually in the loop--she's a character who's spent the past decade of her life in the loop, who exhibits independent knowledge of the facts, and who has every reason to think she knows all the relevant information, being blindsided by a very important detail that gojo didn't even tell Megumi. Even Maki initially assumed that Tsumiki had the information and was blindsided by the fact that she didn't. And it's that gap in knowledge that sows the seeds of their initial conflict--and eventually brought them together.

For the first part of the conversation, I really wanted a lot of the conflict to be actually "they're having two different conversations and neither are technically wrong."

Maki's conversation was centered around what the Zenin would do. She was talking about how they're absolutely obsessed with Megumi and will never give up. And that fits within her world of experience, that's what she knows--she's not wrong about anything she says.

But Tsumiki's talking about Megumi, who's in her realm of experience, and she's saying that Megumi's never gonna want to be in their family Christmas card. Neither are wrong. Maki is totally correct in saying that the Zenin aren't just going to give up and wait for another Ten Shadows to be born. But Tsumiki wasn't saying that they would--she was saying that Megumi was never going to love them or want to be with them. The misunderstanding isn't in what either are saying, it's what the actual conversation is about.

The next time they accidentally ram into each other's sore points is when Maki says Tsumiki's the reason why he refused to join the clan.

Tsumiki's the unwanted kid in the world's most aggressive custody battle. She remembers the Zenin and Gojo were at each other's throats over custody, but nobody was fighting over her. It was her brother who the Zenin wanted. And we know from her later conversations with Yuuta that the Zenin have gone so far as offered to have her boarded at a school on the other side of the planet to get her away from Megumi.

"You're the reason why Megumi won't be with his family" was an accusation that was constantly lobbed at her as a kid. The Zenin fully blamed her for Megumi not coming near them (when they weren't blaming gojo), and I imagine Tsumiki was always very defensive about it. Because the thing is, at her core, she could have been completely uninvolved and megumi would want nothing to do with them. They were fucking insane. why would he ever want to be near them?

Tsumiki was a very little girl who was all alone in the world, and then she had her megumi, and she finally had a real family. And he was all alone too. They got to save each other. They got to give each other someone in the world to hold onto. They were each other's safe harbors and lighthouses and there was no one in the world who took care of her brother before she did.

It was incredibly hard for her to learn that there was this clan of people who had money and power and actual blood tying them to him, and they wanted to take him and leave her behind. Giving him a family was something she counted as almost a source of pride, and suddenly she was turned on her head and the selfish brat keeping him from having a family.

She didn't want to be alone again. She didn't want to let him go. And she spent a long time thinking she was selfish and just keeping him from having more family, until they found out just how bad the zenin were.

It's also an unfair accusation to say that Tsumiki's trying to keep Megumi from his family. The second she finds out that Maki left the Zenin clan, she tries to get her to form a familial relationship with Megumi. She wants megumi to have other family than her--and then Maki immediately hit back with "oh so you're the reason he's not with his family." It was like a slap in the face.

Except Maki didn't mean it like "so you're the one who took him from the clan the way the rest of the Zenin did, she meant it like "so you're the one who saved him from the clan."

Maki didn't even know Tsumiki existed. The clan leadership wasn't advertising that the ten shadows picked his non-sorcerer step sister over them. The entire jujutsu world thinks that Gojo snatched him away as a child, borderline brainwashed him to keep him from joining his clan and realizing his true power, and did it all as a power play against his enemies.

Except Maki's spent the last year with Gojo. And she's been wondering what the fuck actually happened, because what everyone says about him didn't match up at all with the man who welcomed her with open arms and who had done nothing but support her and the other students. He was fucking annoying, but he wasn't someone who seemed like he would do what people said he did all those years ago.

Every single time she thought about truly trusting Gojo for this past year, she thought about Megumi. She thought about the little boy who never had any time to play but still found the time to protect her sister. She thought about how they played together and how Megumi said they could be friends when Mai begged him and how they all got beat like hell for it, but it still made Mai happier than she had been in a long time.

Megumi was safer wherever the zenin weren't, but Gojo wasn't supposed to be doing it to protect Megumi. He supposedly had been manipulating Megumi for the past decade, keeping him weak and under his thumb so he could be a pet on a leash that Gojo could parade around.

She didn't want to believe that Gojo would do that to megumi. But she also didn't want to fall for someone who was just manipulating her. If he had really done that to Megumi, she wasn't ever going to trust or forgive him.

Tsumiki's existence made it all click for her.

Tsumiki would have never, ever been safe in the Zenin clan. Maki knows what it means to not be safe there, to have a sibling who isn't safe there, to watch them suffer underneath her family's thumb. If megumi had a sister he didn't want to be separated from, a sister who couldn't ever be near her family safely, then what Gojo did wasn't a powerplay--it was a rescue. He was keeping the ten shadows with a sister he could never stay with otherwise. Tsumiki is the reason why Megumi refused to join the clan, and the reason why Gojo helped him do it. It actually was Megumi's genuine refusal all this time. Maki wasn't blaming her--she was just struck by the fact that she really, genuinely could trust Gojo all this time. that it hadn't been a power play--Gojo was just saving Megumi and Tsumiki the way no one saved her and Mai.

Of course, Tsumiki didn't know any of that. She only knew the Zenin clan that had blamed her for years. So she didn't understand that Maki was saying it out of relief, not anger.

To shift a bit farther in the conversation, in my mind, the reason why Tsumiki got in a blow out fight with Megumi about going to school is because she wants him to have a life outside of the jujutsu world.

The jujutsu world purposefully tries to take away options from you as a manner of control. That was a big part of Yuuta's conversation with the higher ups--they didn't want him doing anything that could give him options outside of jujutsu sorcery. The terms of his binding vow were ludicrously strict about how he spent his time and education. And Tsumiki has actually seen this first hand, because she watched how the higher ups went after the teen parenting squad during their adoption.

She cares if Megumi goes to school because she desperately wants him to have the option to one day leave the jujutsu world. The higher ups and the Zenin don't even want him to have a modern middle school education--if they had their way, he'd be in full time jujutsu training, and she knows that because she and megumi were both in the loop when Gojo was fighting them over it.

Megumi's going to be going to high school soon. That means he's going to lose his main connection to a world outside of jujutsu sorcery. She wants him to have friends. She wants him to go to school and have favorite subjects and hobbies and passions. She wants him to have ties other than a profession that eats its workers alive. Megumi leaving middle school is a ticking time bomb in her mind--she didn't want him to lose a single day of normal life, especially not for her sake. The fact that he's in this stupid deal to work off his debt to the school as a sorcerer for her sake has been eating her alive for years. She just wanted him to go to school and have another day of being a normal kid.

She regrets it, later. If he has to be in this world, she wants to be in it with him. She wishes she was with him when the Zenin came.

For the most part, I'm not going to discuss the undertones of the conversation about the phone, because we actually will get into that in the fic. But the last part in the story she tells about her and megumi as kids, about how she had to hold on tight to his hand as a child because he would always try to wiggle free and she would lose him if he did? That's supposed to be their entire relationship dynamic in this: Megumi keeps trying to wiggle free, and she keeps trying to hang on to him as tightly as she can.

There's a lot of little "iceberg" details after that in quick succession.

(And, to be clear, I don't consider these details explicit or "canon" within the fic itself. It's a bit like method acting, I guess?

Yuuta finding out every single detail isn't realistic. It would drown the fic in way too much detail and be a little off if he found out that much. But having this sort of hidden base in what the character's experiences and desires and motives are helps me write them more consistently throughout, and it enhances my own understanding of the story. Yuuta will never find out that Tsumiki got in the fight with Megumi because she wanted him to have a life outside of jujutsu sorcery, but it can feed into her actions throughout the story if I understand that. Only the tip of the iceberg is visible, but the rest is still beneath the surface and affecting the flow of the story's currents. But, since it isn't explicit, members of the audience are free to have their own interpretations and experiences with the art and it makes the art much more changeable? I like the idea that no story is the same for any two people. What I read as their motives doesn't necessarily have to be everyone's reading. It's a different story through the lens of every person. I dunno. It's just cool to me.)

Some of the iceberg details that follow in the conversation, in short form:

Megumi kept trying to take off the kimono when Tsumiki found him because he was convinced he was dying and didn't want to die in the clothes the Zenin dressed him in

I talked about this in another post so I won't break it down in detail here, but when Maki's talking about how her father used to always take her to see the ten shadows kimono, it's because he wanted her to inherit the technique, once upon a time. The clan had been waiting for the Ten Shadows technique to return to the bloodline since Gojo was born. Her father was important in the clan, close to the clan head, from a powerful bloodline, and she was only a year older than Megumi. In my mind, the Ten shadows is the antithesis of the Six eyes and Limitless, so while you can clock the six eyes from birth, the Ten Shadows is notoriously hard to spot until they summon the dogs. Maki went from the clan's biggest hope to its biggest shame, and the Ten Shadows is a source of a lot of bitter memories. It wasn't until she saw the state of Megumi that night that she fully appreciated how lucky she was to not get the technique.

Then, the conversation takes a total tonal shift, and it's the definitive shift in Maki and Tsumiki's relationship. Because it's when Maki overrides Nanami to tell Tsumiki the full truth of her brother's technique.

Tsumiki has rapidly become a slightly painful person for Maki in the span of this conversation, because she's maki's foil, and Maki is realizing that. Maki had to let go of Mai to become who she is today. that was one of the hardest choices of her life, but she had to do it. The Zenin would have killed her if she stayed. She knew how big she could grow if she just had the space to do it.

Tsumiki is someone who's braving her family to not let go of her sibling. She made the opposite decision as maki, and Maki knows that, and she respects the shit out of Tsumiki for it. Telling Tsumiki the truth of the ten shadows is both a sign of respect for her and an acknowledgement of her as her brother's protector. Tsumiki can't help her brother fully if she doesn't know what the hell is going on. Maki's trying to arm her so she can keep making the decision that Maki didn't, because she knows just how painful her family is going to make this for them all. They didn't even care about Maki, but they still destroyed mai when she left. Megumi? He's the most valuable person in the world to them. They'll make everyone bleed. And she thinks Tsumiki deserves to know that if she's going to stay by megumi's side.

The last little iceberg moment is Tsumiki tearing the robe. And that was meant to be a reflection of tsumiki's entire outlook on life.

At the end of the day, Tsumiki is someone I've decided is selective about what she cares about. I've talked about it more in other posts, but I don't see Tsumiki's entire "I'd rather think about the people I love than curse people" schtick as a sign she's a perfect good person who doesn't succumb to bad thoughts--I read it more as she's someone who knows she only has so much she can devote her time and energy to. Tsumiki has very specific priorities that she will actually devote labor towards, and Megumi is her biggest. She doesn't get tangled up in things like appearances, or blood, or tradition, or politics, or revenge--she has the people she won't let go of, and she will let go of absolutely everything else.

The kimono is symbolic of centuries of tradition and a borderline religious obsession for the Zenin. Megumi himself is secondary to what the Ten Shadows represents, and the Zenin show that by disregarding his desires and safety again and again for the sake of their traditions around his technique. Tsumiki figuratively (and literally) tears through that because Megumi himself is paramount to her. It's an irreplaceable, priceless, centuries-old heirloom to the zenin. Most people would be wary of damaging it even if they didn't have any personal attachment to it, but Tsumiki just fucking rips it, because it legitimately means nothing to her.

She doesn't care if Megumi's borderline a figure of legend to them. He's her little brother. So they can wait another five hundred years for the next ten shadows. And they can get a new fucking robe.

[thewaltcrew]

Director Kirk Wise, screenwriter Linda Woolverton, and actor Robby Benson on casting the Beast [x]

They gave me an incredible amount of freedom. I didn't want Beast to be a cartoon character. I played it as though I were doing a Broadway show. As if this was a living person. And I wanted him to be funny. By funny, I don't mean shtick or one-liners. I am talking about real comedy. When real comedy works, and is truthful, especially with the Beast, it comes out of the fact that he is so pathetic. For some reason, I really understood that. Ha! Because of that, they gave me a lot of leeway. [x]

My first audition was recorded on, of all things, a Sony Walkman. As a musician, I had branched out into recording engineer and loved to play with sound. When I saw the Sony Walkman I knew it had a little condenser microphone in it, and if I were to get too loud, the automatic compressor and built-in limiter would 'squash' the voice— and there would be very little dynamic range to the performance. I did a quick assessment and wondered how many people who had come in to audition for the part were making that error: playing the Beast with overwhelming decibels, compressing the vocal waveforms. I decided to give the Beast 'range.' Because of my microphone technique, and an understanding of who I wanted Beast to be, they kept asking me to come back and read different dialogue. After my fifth audition, Jeffrey Katzenberg the hands-on guardian of the film, said the part was mine…

Beauty and the Beast was so refreshingly fun and inventively creative to work on that I couldn't wait to try new approaches to every line of dialogue. Don Hahn is one of the best creative producers I have ever worked with. The two young directors, Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale, were fantastic and their enthusiasm was contagious. I not only was allowed to improvise, but they encouraged it. It never entered my mind that I was playing an animated creature. I understood the torment that Beast was going through: he felt ugly; had a horrible opinion of himself, and had a trigger-temper. Those are things that, if done right, are the perfect ingredients for comedy. Painful and pathetic comedy— but honest. The kind of comedy I understood...

In the feature world of Disney animation, the actors always recorded their dialogue alone in a big studio, with only a microphone and the faint images of the producers, writers, directors and engineer through a double-paned set of acoustic glass. Paige O'Hara and I became good friends; it was her idea that for certain very intimate scenes, such as when Beast is dying, we record together. We were able to play these scenes with an honest conviction that is often absent in the voice-over world...

The success of this film was the culmination of a team effort but I must say, the honors go to the animators— and for me (Beast), that's Glen Keane — and to Howard Ashman and Alan Menken. This was the perfect example of a crew who 'cared'. And the final results (every frame) of the film represent that sentiment. [x]

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS! ── PART TWO.

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of emiko, mina, emi and professor sato, Kenji and you being Emi's parents, ultraman form and first part here!

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Becoming a warm routine, you and Kenji watched his old matches together, which were recorded by his mother, and it was, devoutly, impossible not to be moved by little Kenji in the presence of his teammates and Emiko's screams of celebration; who offered support and support for his son.

⤷ So, whenever you noticed the momentary change in his posture, caused by the commotion and emotion that was moving in his chest, leaving him vulnerable, you would rest your head on his shoulder and wrap one of your hands around his arm, signaling that you would always be there. supporting, loving and respecting him.

⭑.ᐟ Kenji, at every moment, in fact, always looked at your lips while you spoke, explained or even hummed something; it was automatic, he didn't know how to control it or moderate himself about it. — And he didn't even hide it, casually, he had given up trying to hide the action. — Well, it's not his fault if your mouth is so irresistible.

⤷ Yes, every time you opened your mouth, telling him how your day was or scolding him for getting hurt during a battle, there were Sato's eyes traveling over your lips.

"Emi's reflexes are improving, and Mina will examine her once more." — You said, correcting your posture on the sofa to admire the baby, who was playing with Mina, and finding it adorable. — "Oh! And she's learning another dance, you've got to see it." — Turning your head towards Kenji, you find his eyes, completely, immobilized on one part of your face, specifically, on the region of your lips. — "Ken? Can you hear me?" — No answer. — "Kenji?"

⭑.ᐟ During the beginning of your relationship, Kenji occasionally referred to you as his wife; he simply loved calling you that. — Because he felt, in his heart, that, in the future, it would be true and, in fact, official; he believed it. — Soon, it had become something so natural and special, also, very deep.

⤷ There were times, and some press conferences and magazine articles, when Sato mentioned you as his wife and didn't worry about questions from journalists. — Mainly, in his interview with Ami, when asked who he attributed his important change to.

"I wouldn't be here without my family, simple as that." — He explained, with an air of confidence and determination, focusing on his words. — "My dad, mom, wife…"

⭑.ᐟ Furthermore, Kenji refers to you as the mother — temporary, or also the second mother — of Emi; and Mina reinforced the insinuation, showing photos and videos of you to the baby, just like she did with Ken's. —Usually, when she didn't obey his orders or refused to learn something new, like a child, Kenji would declare that you wouldn't like to know about her stubbornness.

"Listen here, young lady!" — In the form of Ultraman, lurking and trying to reach the baby lizard, which was running and having fun around the base, Kenji didn't like the current situation. — "If your mother knows you don't want to take a shower, she won't be happy with you. — The robotic voice exclaimed from the place. — "And not even with me."

⭑.ᐟ You know that scene where he, in his Ultraman form, is sleeping with Emi and his father? This keeps happening between you! — Due to tiredness, exhaustion from the care you are taking with her, you and Kenji fall asleep with the big baby. — With Ken around, holding and protecting you from everything.

⭑.ᐟ When he woke up, with his clothes wrinkled and his hair completely messy and unruly, accompanied by the mug "I hate mornings", Sato found you and Mina watching Emi, who was sleeping peacefully. — After hours of singing an old and graceful lullaby, your voice had captivated the child. — He was still dazzled, but not surprised, by this situation.

"So, she fell for your charms?" — His morning voice, so hoarse and pleasant, compromising with good humor, even if a little exhausted. — "Huh?" — Arriving from behind, he rested his head on your shoulder, fitting in, as usual.

"Oh, yeah." — You answered, with conviction and grace, moving your hands to his messy hair, stroking it.— "Just like you one day fell!"

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MEET UGLY — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college au!, rich boy! gojo, first meets, slight meet ugly but mainly he’s just annoying, established relationship in second scene, banter + fluff, kissies for da princess boy <3

dating gojo has always been, and will always be, the biggest unforeseen plot twist of your life.

the first time you encounter gojo satoru, it’s in literature class. he laughs with that dark haired friend of his a bit too loudly in the back while you try to share your thoughts on the reading from last night—it’s not that you particularly care for the class, but you’re trying to get the participation points, and you don’t want some slacking jackass to ruin that for you.

you throw him a glare over your shoulder, making him pause and blink before he shoots you a cheshire grin. you swear you hear a chuckle from the distance as you turn and continue speaking.

the second time you stumble across him is in line at the campus coffee shop. it’s the first day of the semester, and you have class in fifteen minutes across campus, but you’re tired. incredibly so—working shifts back to back late into the night is not doing you any favors, but you have to afford gas money and textbooks somehow.

you need caffeine, and you need it quick so you can make it to class on time.

except the tall, snow-haired stranger in front of you is making that very difficult as he takes forever and lists his wildly long list of syrups and add ons for his drink—seriously, who can even stomach a drink like that? you crinkle your nose as you imagine how sweet it must be. what irritates you more is that he pays for his ridiculously expensive drink that’s far too sweet for eight am with a black card. you glare daggers into the back of his head, wishing you could crack his skull in two with your stare alone.

and then he turns, raises a brow as he stares at you calculatingly—and then his lips turn into a grin as he seems to recognize you. great, you think.

“hey, weren’t you in lit class with me last semester?” he asks, making you sigh as you purse your lips.

“yes. now please move, i need to order and get to class.”

“she curved that final exam pretty generously, i thought i was going to fail—”

“i’ll take a large double shot,” you mumble, ignoring him as you place your order. you can feel his stare from the side as you pay.

“that’s pretty strong, don’t you think?” he asks, making you throw a glare at him from over your shoulder, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

it only seems to amuse him more, making you grit your teeth—how irritating could someone even manage to be? there’s got to be some sort of record he’s holding for most nerves he’s ticked off within the span of two meets.

“well, assuming from the fact that you’re a college student with a black credit card,” you huff, “you probably haven’t had to work a single night shift in your life.”

you put away your own card as you speak—one that’s not black, and one that’s going to have a very high bill due soon from the textbooks you’ll have to purchase.

“i like you,” he grins, “you’re funny. how about i—”

you cut him off again, done interacting for the morning. “have a nice day,” you say curtly, walking over to the wait area for your drink.

he seems entirely amused by your attitude—which only pisses you off more. does everything seem to make his lips quirk into that annoying smirk of his? and why is it so handsome? what a waste of such a gorgeous face to be paired with such an insufferable personality. and, because the universe hates you, he waits around for you even after he gets his drink, following you out the door when you grab yours and leave.

“how about i take you out for coffee tomorrow?” he grins, “i’ll pay with that black card you like so much.”

what an asshole—you hope he gets hit by a car and loses a few teeth.

“no.”

“c’mon, it’ll be fun—”

“no.”

“okay,” he chuckles, “feisty. i like it.”

and then, as you turn the corner, he turns with you, walking leisurely behind you as he sips that disgustingly sugary drink of his.

“what the fuck,” you hiss, “why are you following me?”

“i’m not,” he says innocently, “why are you following me?”

where are all the cars in the streets when you need them? and why haven’t they hit him yet?

“i’m walking ahead of you jackass,” you huff, “how can i be following you?”

“oh yeah?” he takes a few strides with those abnormally long legs of his, walking ahead of you as he shoots you an amused grin over his shoulder. “now you’re following me. does that mean you changed your mind about that date?”

“you wish,” you seethe.

a few more steps, and he walks into the same building as you. great—you’ll likely be running into him every morning then. a few more steps and he’s turning the hall to the same hall as you. wonderful—you’ll probably have to deal with him to the walk to class too. a few more steps, and then you realize he’s entering the same class that you’re entering.

fucking fantastic. just what you needed. absolutely divine luck—the universe has really handed you the largest pair of clown shoes it could find.

of course he of all people would be in class with you for another semester—and he seems to brighten considerably when he realizes he’s in your class too, because his grin widens even more.

“well, look at that,” he says brightly, “you followed me all the way to class. we might as well be seatmates.”

“don’t even think about sitting near me,” you warn, “i’m going to go that way. you go that way.”

he does not go the way you point—instead, he chuckles and plops down right beside you. how on earth could someone be so easy to despise? of all the empty seats in the entirety of the lecture hall, he just has to choose the seat right next to you.

for a moment, you contemplate skipping this class entirely and trying to teach yourself everything before the tests just so you don’t have to see him—you’ve done that enough times, it shouldn’t be too hard. but then you remember that this course is notorious for having a semester long paired project that weighs for a hefty amount of your final grade—skipping is not an option.

so, with veins ready to pop any second, and an oncoming migraine, you sit through all of lecture trying to ignore the absolute worst guy you’ve ever met. not only is he rude and obnoxious and overly confident to a fault—but he’s also rich and spoiled and privileged to live in a realm entirely separate from your reality.

you think you might just hate him.

you’re broken from your thoughts when you hear your name as the professor lists the pairs she’s already made from the roster for the semester’s project. this is great, you think, she’ll call someone’s name, and you’ll have that as an excuse to sit with them and avoid the nuisance sat beside you.

everything is fine. you’ll be free in just a few moments. it’ll all be over soon.

“gojo satoru,” she calls, “if you could raise your hand so your partner knows who to find after class.”

then, as if in slow motion, the very same guy who ruined your morning raises his hand, looking over at you absolutely enthused as his eyes sparkle through the top of his sunglasses—which, only an asshole would wear sunglasses indoors.

“hey partner,” he chuckles, “how about coffee tomorrow to discuss our project?”

—————

satoru likes to think that even with his unfortunate start with you on the wrong foot, he’s managed a steady relationship with you.

you don’t tell him to get hit by a car anymore—instead, now you kiss his forehead before bed every night, hold his hand and swing his arm with yours when you’re out, cuddle him after long days and talk about life, and sometimes—when he’s been extra good, you might even do other activities with him that include a whole lot of intimacy and exclude a whole lot of clothing.

he likes to think you’re pretty in love with him—and he’s proud to claim himself as your adorable, sweet, very handsome and extremely funny boyfriend. although, you don’t really ever call him all that, but he’s fairly confident you think it, and that’s close enough.

“baby,” gojo pokes your arm from his spot on your lap, “on a scale of one to ten, how cute would you say i am?”

“an eleven when you shut up and let me work,” you mumble, stroking his hair with one hand and doing calculus problems with the other.

he pouts, huffing in disbelief.

“you know, if you keep taking me for granted, you might lose me,” he says petulantly.

it earns a snort from you as you give him an amused look.

“toru, i think your mom would pay me to get back together with you if we ever broke up.”

“she would not,” he gasps, watching as you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“remember our first fight? you practically starved yourself in your room,” you giggle, “she had to beg me to come talk to you so you’d eat.”

“that’s not true! i had kitkats and coke zero in my room,” he defends himself, crossing his arms as he sits up. “i was fine.”

“you definitely cried yourself to sleep,” you snicker, “you’re hopeless without me.”

“i am just fine without you,” he lies through his teeth, turning away from you as he tilts his head up indignantly.

“remember when you couldn’t even last a week without me while i was studying for finals? and then your mom had to call and beg me again to spend time with you?”

“that’s not—”

“admit it, toru,” you grin cheekily, pinching his nose as you chuckle, “you’d probably die if we ever broke up.”

“and you’d be fine?” he asks incredulously—he’s almost distressed at the idea, staring at you in slight hurt that makes you laugh before setting your calculus homework aside.

you grab his arm and pull him into your side, kissing his head as he slumps onto your chest.

“i don’t know, i don’t think i’d mind watching a mopey satoru beg me to take him back.”

“you don’t deserve me,” he grumbles, “i deserve to be loved and cherished. i’m a catch.”

“i bet you’d make that ugly face of yours when you cry,” you tease, making him look up at you with an offended gasp.

“i’ll have you know i’m exceptionally pretty when i cry. the waterworks have gotten me loads of things from my mom—i’m irresistible.”

“you’d probably be on your knees in seconds,” you continue to poke fun at him, “please take me back. i’m nothing without you, baby,” you mock his voice, giggling as he glares at you unimpressed.

“now you’re just being a bully. do you even love me?”

“i do,” you grin softly, pecking his cheek, “i love you a ton. you know that.”

“you don’t act like it,” he grumbles.

you laugh, hugging him tighter as your fingers slip into his hair again. sometimes, you think you should be shocked you’re here—laying in bed with gojo satoru and kissing his cheeks as he pouts. you of the past might just kill you of the present if you saw yourself now….but something about gojo is charming enough that you can overlook the very annoying first impression you had.

enough that maybe….well, maybe you might also be a bit hopeless without him—but you’ll never tell him that.

something tells you he knows, though, when he wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you impossibly closer, kissing the corner of your lips as he grins.

“what about that time you got soooo jealous?” he grins, “we weren’t even together yet. and remember that time you begged my mom to take home baby pictures of me? you’re obsessed,” he says proudly, “i would be too. i’m adorable.”

“you’re a pain is what you are,” you mutter.

“i love you too,” he chuckles, burying his head into your shoulder.

you grin, the curves of your lips painted with love as they find his forehead, pressing delicate kisses to the skin. maybe being paired for a semester long project with the annoying rich boy in your class wasn’t so bad—maybe you owe finding the softest love you’ve ever had to the strict and unpleasant professor who gave you an A- when you definitely deserved an A.

“and how are you so sure i love you?” you ask playfully. he rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers with his.

“because you haven’t hit me with your car yet,” he bites back, making you laugh brightly.

plssss i want him so bad i cannot take it anymore every day without him feels like pins and needles in my skin it’s utter agony i feel like my life’s meaning has been stripped from me i feel like my lungs and heart both burn from the lack of oxygen i feel like i am but an empty shell with no soul lost and wandering the planet searching for a reason to go on

ps. if you have been reading along w rb! gojo i hope you caught some of the references to old drabbles ;)

[that-house]

My name is Invino Veritas, the greatest pop sensation to ever grace the radios of New Space City. What’s New Space City? It’s like Space City but in New Space instead of normal outer space. Try to keep up, idiot.

My incredibly normal and lame parents, Hal and Sarah Veritas, thought they were soooo funny giving their daughter a name like Invino, and then a traveling wish-god said “you think that’s funny? i’m about to be hilarious” and cursed me so that I have to always tell the truth as long as my blood alcohol content is above a .000000000000000000001. Yeah, you read the number of zeroes right. I can’t even breathe in the same room as a PBR without confessing that I do in fact think I’m smarter, hotter, and more talented than everyone else, which makes me fun at parties.

I was really pissed at that guy for ruining drinking for me forever, so I was majoring in homicide at NSCU to become a totally badass assassin and kill him, but my real passion was always music. When the EP I recorded in my dorm room, My Roommate Fucking Hates Me, caught the ear of a bigshot producer, I dropped out and sold out immediately. I bring an honest sort of grunginess to the New Space City music scene, by which I mean that I pay my stylist $700,000 an hour to make my hair look just a little bit messy before I step out on stage. Nothing too crazy of course, I have an image to maintain.

Smash cut to five years later and I’m six chart-topping albums into a seven-album deal with Lucifer the Lightbringer. Yes, that Lucifer, from the bible and, more famously, those really schlocky 3190s devilsploitation porn flicks. You know, Horns of Desire (3193) and the rest? Yeah, that Lucifer. He opened a record company with the money he made selling silicone casts of his film-festival-winning penis, and my blend of earnest naivety and raw ego was exactly what he was looking for in a star.

When he sent the paperwork, I said I’d have my lawyer look at it, but I didn’t have a lawyer and was too embarrassed to admit it, so I just waited a week and signed it without reading it. Turns out when my seven albums are done I go to Hell forever and so does everyone who’s ever listened to my music. Even on the radio. Or in an advertisement. Sorry. So yeah, I’ve really been procrastinating on this last one. To all my fans out there: make sure you preorder Always Read the Fine Print, because I don’t think I can cash those checks once I’m in Hell.

On the bright side, I think if I play my cards right I can convince him to greenlight a behind-the-scenes documentary about the making of the album, and that’s basically a free pass to do whatever I want for a year or two as long as it makes for good footage. Obviously if anyone kills me before the album is done, the apocalypse is averted and only I go to hell, but think about this from a utilitarian standpoint: sure, a few trillion immortal souls are on the line, but I think this is going to be some of my best work yet. Plus, I hate getting killed. So whoever’s sending assassins after me, could you please stop?

[jakeshands]

love me like you

pairing: sim jake x fem!reader

synopsis: who would’ve thought that a multitude of failed blind dates would lead you to fake dating jake sim? definitely not you. soon, you find out fake dating has its pros and cons. pros; you’re finally in a relationship, you have your own personal chauffeur, and your own personal study buddy. cons; you fall in love. what a mess.

genre: strangers to lovers, blind dating, fake dating, mutual pining, fluff and angst

featuring: enhypen, wonyoung of ive, yunjin of lsfm, ricky of zb1, soobin of txt

warnings: light angst, profanity, mentions of alcohol/consumption of alcohol, lots of kissing, mentions of death

word count: 25k

author’s note: look this got out of hand and idk how that happened. what was supposed to be under 20k turned into this mess. please ignore all the editing mistakes and if the story doesnt flow well/is choppy and some scenes feel out of place….just know i had to cut scenes out to post this fic. i couldnt post the whole 28k word fic for some weird reason so this is the edited version. please enjoy and lmk if u want to read the scenes i had to cut! anyway the reader is korean in this fic, just a heads up. u will see Why. um. thats it. and also if the ending feels rushed, that’s because It Is.

“Are you mansplaining to me?” You ask your date, a frown permanently sharpened onto your face. “Because, for the record, I know what a wage gap is. No need to explain it in a condescending way.”

You were excited about this date -- the fourth one your kind friend, and roommate, Wonyoung had set up for you. She had taken your inexperience in high school very personally and took it upon herself to get you to go on as many dates as possible. In her own words, “you’re at college! Time to let loose, girl!”

So; your first date went well, but it only ended in a friendship. Taehyun Kang was fun to talk to, but when the date came to an end the both of you agreed your relationship wouldn’t ever go further than a friendship, so you exchanged numbers, followed each other on TikTok, and began to send each other random, funny TikToks to each other.

Your second date showed up stoned. Ben was fun to talk to since he was stoned, and his answers to the questions you had to ask ten times were completely off-topic, but you still had an enjoyable time. Though, when the date ended you both went your separate ways. (Ben texted you within the following days. He invited you to a party. You then lost your virginity.)

Your third date was with a girl. Yuri Jo. She was pretty and funny, and she went on this date to make her crush jealous. You willingly helped Yuri out, and a week after your date, Yuri’s crush confessed to her. Yuri and you keep in touch over Instagram -- Yuri’s feed is just her and her girlfriend now, and you think it’s adorable.

This brings us to your fourth date; Soobin Choi. Anime enthusiast, takes Gender Studies as an elective course, and a professional mansplainer. When he showed up to the date, you felt yourself swoon over how handsome he looked. His smile was cute, and dimples were even cuter -- and then Soobin opened his mouth. The first red flag was the fact Soobin said he wasn’t a feminist, but women should be treated just as fairly as men. You told Soobin that was feminism and he shot you down. Then, for the better half of your date, Soobin mansplained many things to you; Anime, Maki Zeinin from Jujutsu Kaisen, and the wage gap.

“And I don’t think men should even be allowed to speak about Maki Zeinin. She is for the women. She is gay.”

Soobin harshly stabs his tiramisu as he listens to you. “Maki is-- Maki is not gay.” Soobin splutters. “Calling a character, whose sexuality hasn’t been explicitly revealed, gay is very --”

Huffing, you push back your chair and glare at Soobin. “Thank you for the date, Soobin but I think it’s time for me to go. I forgot I had fish to feed and a New Girl marathon to finish.”

“Fine,” sniffs Soobin, abandoning his tiramisu. “Let’s go split the payment.”

After splitting the pavement, you step out into the cold December air. Shivering, you draw your coat tighter around your torso and scan the streets around you. Soobin turns to you, and you brace yourself for whatever bullshit he was about to say.

“Would you like a ride home?” Soobin asks.

“No,” you answer without any hesitation.

“Are you sure? How else will you get home, then?”

“I can walk,” you respond coldly.

“Walk,” Soobin repeats, not believing your words. “Don’t be stupid, Y/N. Come on, let me take you home.”

Sighing, you give in. It was quite cold, and you weren’t sure you would be able to walk all the way home in the dark. “Fine.” You follow Soobin to his car, which is a car you expected from a college student; old, and barely working.

It takes a while for hot air to blow through the heaters, so you sit in the cold silence with Soobin for half of the ride back to your place. “How do you even know Wonyoung?” You ask Soobin, looking out the window and watching cars race past.

“I don’t know her, she’s just a friend of a friend,” Soobin answers.

“Why did you even agree to go on this date?”

Soobin shrugs. “Post-grad is lonely.”

Finally, your dorm hall comes into view. You could practically hear New Girl calling to you. “Thank you for the ride home,” you tell Soobin.

“No problem. See you around?”

“Yeah,” you shut the door and immediately sprint into your dorm hall, aching for warmth over the chilly wind blowing violently through the air. Rushing past the kitchen and the common areas, you dash into the elevator that Ricky was holding open for you. You thank the platinum blond and rest against the elevator walls, fanning yourself.

In your pocket, your phone begins to buzz uncontrollably. Stifling your sigh, you pull out your phone and unlock it to see all of your friends active in the group chat.

yoon 💖

[1 video attachment]

WOAHHHHHHHHHH?????

apparently jake gave her chlamydia LMFAO

jiwon loml

throwing a red drink all over his white top..that’s gotta hurt lol

wony 👯

jake has chlamydia???

yoon 💖

idk.

the girl in the video mentions it tho. did u not watch it???

wony 👯

i did!!!!! i’m just surprised jake has chlamydia

baby hikaru

what’s so surprising abt it??

rei 🐥 🐥

jsut spliilt ramen everywhehere :(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((:((((((((((((((((

The elevator door dings open and you step out, walking down the hall to your room. Your and Wonyoung’s names were proudly sketched onto the whiteboard outside of your room. Cats, courtesy of Jiwon, and hearts, courtesy of Rei were added on after you hung the whiteboard outside of the room when you first moved in.

Pushing open the door, Wonyoung lies on her bed, swinging her legs through the air as she smiles bashfully at her phone. “Welcome back, Y/N,” Wonyoung looks up from her phone and wiggles her eyebrows. “So? Did you kiss? Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend? Soobin’s really handsome, isn’t he?”

“He’s handsome,” you agree, shrugging off your coat. “But. He’s just not my type.”

Wonyoung groans, rolling onto her back. “No one is your type. What is your type?”

“Someone who doesn’t mansplain the wage gap to me,” you deadpan, crawling under your covers and staring up at the ceiling. “He said he wasn’t a feminist, yet he hopes that one day women can be treated just as fairly as men.”

Wonyoung snorts. “That sounds terrible.”

“It was terrible,” you groan, rolling onto your stomach and suffocating yourself with your pillow.

“Well, I’m out of options,” Wonyoung tells you. “My connections can only get me so far.”

“That’s okay,” you roll back onto your back and look over at Wonyoung. “I’m thinking, you know that section in the school’s magazine? Where they send two people on a blind date and then those two people write about the date for the magazine? I might sign up for that. It looks fun, and who knows, maybe I will find the love of my life! If not, I’ll just join dating apps.”

Wonyoung perks up, her eyes shining. “Oh my god! Yes!” She shifts to the edge of her bed. “You should one-hundred percent do it, Y/N. Apply for it now!” Wonyoung slips off her bed and steps over to her desk, grabbing her Macbook and flopping down onto your bed beside you.

With a pounding heart, you sign up for the blind date program. “I hope I get someone nice,” you tell Wonyoung as you click the apply button. “Someone I can at least have a conversation with.”

“Or someone you can get down and dirty with,” smirks Wonyoung, ignoring your glare. Her phone buzzes and you steal a glance at the notification. You gasp and whack Wonyoung on the shoulder when you see who has just texted her. “Sunghoon Park? Since when did you know Sunghoon Park?”

“I don’t,” Wonyoung says.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t know him,” but the blush spreading across her cheeks as she types back with a stupid smile on her face says otherwise.

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your phone to spill Wonyoung’s Sunghoon Secret to the groupchat. “I totally believe you, Wonyoung.”

—-

It’s been a week since you took a leap of faith and applied for the blind date program run by your university’s magazine. It’s been a week of you non-stop refreshing the top of your school email’s inbox. It’s been a week of Wonyoung constantly asking you if you had scored a blind date. It’s been a week of nothing but stress.

You slowly come to terms with the fact that you weren’t chosen -- it was like you were asking whoever it is that pairs two people together to search for a needle in a stack of needles. What needle were they supposed to be searching for in the first place? It’s all futile.

Though, when your inbox receives a new email on a Wednesday night, you can’t help but squeal. “Wonyoung!” You call out, waving your best friend over as you eagerly squirm on the armchair you were sitting on in the common room of your dormitory.

Congrats! You’ve been chosen…reads the email notification. Wonyoung eagerly badgers you to open the email, and without hesitation you do. A flood of information is revealed to you and Wonyoung -- your date was to happen on a Friday night. 6 PM. At the local restaurant that is an avid sponsor of your college’s football team, you and your date were to be gifted with a one-hundred-dollar voucher to cover the cost of your dinner.

“This is amazing, Y/N!” Wonyoung whispers to you in the dark, hours after you received the email. The time was creeping into the early morning of Thursday when Wonyoung whispered to you, the both of you unable to sleep because of the email you received confirming that you were going on another blind date this Friday.

Friday comes faster than you expected it to, and you were not prepared for what it brings you. As Murphy’s Law states; anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And it all starts with you sleeping through your 9 AM alarm. (For the first time ever.) You wake up with ten minutes to get dressed, eat, and race across campus to your first lecture of the day -- even worse, it was raining outside. Torrential rain.

It doesn’t get any better. At your first tutorial of the day, your tutor hands you back the essay you asked her to go over, and it’s covered in red marker with a comment saying this essay is a C. C plus at best. And you feel your knees give out. You race through lunch, grabbing hot chips from your dormitory’s lunch hall and re-reading the red-marked comments on your worst essay to date.

Your following lecture is canceled because your professor is sick, and then your last tutorial of the day is also canceled. You end up joining Wonyoung, Yoon, and Rei in one of the campus cafes, soothing your sorrows with apple juice bought from a vending machine.

“Enhypen’s throwing a party tomorrow,” Yoon says. “Should we go?”

“I’m down,” Rei shrugs. “I need to forget all about the assessments waiting for me back at my dorm.” Then, she nudged Wonyoung. “But I bet Wonyoung is eager to go. Her beau is in that frat.”

Wonyoung blushes hotly and tells Rei to shut the fuck up. You don’t have the energy in you to join in on Rei’s teasing.

When you reach your dorm after spending the rest of the afternoon elbow-deep in assessments in the campus library, you note the time. 5:30 PM. Didn’t you have something to do at 6? Then, you remember. The blind date. Fuck.

You throw open the tiny shared closet and rummage through all the clothes you and Wonyoung were able to stuff in here before investing in a couple of dressers. Every outfit you try on isn’t up to your, or Wonyoung’s standards, and by the time you’re done with your outfit and makeup, the clock reads 5:55 PM. You can’t take the bus now; you’re going to be super fucking late.

Bidding Wonyoung a hurried goodbye, you race into the common room and scout for a familiar face. As usual, Ricky was reclining sideways on one of the many couches, Uno cards in hand, and completely obliterating who he was playing with. (Bahiyyih, Dayeon, and Youngeun.)

“Ricky!” You call out, bounding over to the boy. “Could you drive me somewhere? Please? I’ll pay you!”

“Drive you? Where?” Ricky asks, placing a yellow six on top of the growing pile of Uno cards.

“Just.” You check the time on your phone. 5:57 PM. “Down the street. The Korean BBQ place.”

Ricky huffs. “Alright. Let me finish this game first, though.”

“Ricky --”

With a flourish, Ricky places his remaining red cards on top of the red card Youngeun placed down. The three girls all let scandalous gasps rip from their mouths and Ricky smirks proudly. “I won. I expect to see my essays finished by Friday.”

Ricky slips off the couch and pulls his keys out from his hoodie pocket, swinging them through the air. “Let’s go, Y/N.”

—-

“Thank you!” You shout at Ricky as you shut the car door harshly. You break into a run for the Korean BBQ place, already five minutes late. Your heart pounds insanely fast and it feels like you’re about to explode.

With your mind a mess, you don’t notice the large puddle in front of you until it’s too late. Cold water soaks your left foot, drenching your shoe and sock. Coming to an abrupt halt, you glance down, finally taking notice of the large puddle and you let various loud curses rip.

You don’t have time to figure out how to dry yourself, so you carry on to the barbeque place. Wrenching the door open and listening to the bell jingle harshly, you scan the room of people. You don’t even know who you’re looking for. A waitress appears in front of you, beaming. “Are you here for the blind date?”

You nod your head. “Great, I’ll take you over!” You trail after the waitress, cursing under your breath as your shoe squelches every few steps, and your feet grow colder every second you don’t stop to dry yourself. You bump into the waitress, realizing she has come to a stop. “I’ll return in a bit to take your orders. Enjoy!” And then the waitress disappears.

You see who your date is and it takes everything in you to not turn around and walk out of the restaurant.

Jake Sim sits in front of you, blond hair gleaming beneath the bright white restaurant lights. He glances up at you, holding his menu and you can easily tell he’s not impressed by you turning up to the date seven minutes late.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt, clumsily pulling out your chair and taking a seat opposite him. “I’m so sorry. Today’s been a totally shit day and -- sorry, I shouldn’t cuss. I didn’t mean to arrive late, I was super excited about this date, it’s just that my shit day --- fuck sorry. Sorry. My shit day got in the way of my time management and. I’m just. So sorry. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I’m sorry for turning up late.”

Jake smiles. It’s a small smile, one that barely reaches his eyes. “It’s okay. We all have our days.”

“Right.”

You both lapse into awkward silence. “I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduce yourself awkwardly, fiddling with the salt packets on the table.

“Jake Sim,” Jake responds, but you already knew that -- you know Jake Sim well. He’s a part of Enhypen. A well-known, incredibly popular frat on your college’s campus. It’s a legacy frat -- sons of college alumni always get into that frat. There have been the odd students that got into Enhypen because of their connections, but it’s usually always legacies that pledge in. Enhypen is known for many things; the hot college students living in the house, the massive parties they throw almost every weekend, and Jay Park. Everyone who goes to your college knows Jay Park. It’s hard to not know Jay Park -- but that’s another story.

Jake Sim is undeniably handsome. Big, round, warm brown eyes, cute nose, full lips, and sharp cheekbones, he has it all. Jake Sim is also undeniably wealthy, and undeniably smart. Everyone knows Jake will graduate with honors and with the top marks in his class. Everyone knows Jake will be one of the best students to graduate from their university, he’s a once-in-a-generation student. His wealth is also very highly looked upon. His father owns many corporate businesses in America, and overseas (mostly South Korea.) And Jake, himself, has a trust fund and rumor has it the trust fund is in the millions. Jake’s father and mother are legacies of your college, so it’s not a surprise Jake got early admission, and also is a part of Enhypen.

“What year are you?” Jake asks.

“I’m a first year student. Majoring in Linguistics.”

Jake hums. “I'm in my third year. Physics major.”

“I always hated anything to do with math or science in high school,” you comment, picking up the menu in front of you. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to do college-level physics.”

“I hated anything to do with English in high school,” Jake responds. “I don’t know how people can do English-related courses in college. Where would a degree in Linguistics even take you?”

“Translating jobs,” you refuse to look at Jake, some sort of frustration boiling in your blood because of Jake’s offhand comment. “Maybe editing. I could also teach English to non-English speakers. What does Physics even offer to you after post-grad?”

“I could become a NASA employee,” Jake responds. “Which I hope to be after post-grad.”

You take a peek at Jake, who is already looking at you. You smile, but it’s not a warm smile nor does it reach your eyes. “I hope you become a NASA employee as well.”

A familiar waitress stops by, ready to take your orders. After she leaves, the awkward silence is overwhelming so you reach forward and take a sip of water from the glass in front of you. “So,” Jake speaks up after a few moments. “What do you do for fun, Y/N? What are your hobbies?”

Going on a date is a way to get to know each other, so you indulge in Jake’s question. “I like to read—a lot. I love going to libraries and spending hours in them, just flipping through books or taking a seat on a beanbag and reading. I also like just staying in and hanging out with my friends, playing board games is always fun. I don’t really like going out that much.”

Jake hums, and reaches for his own drink. It’s some kind of mocktail. “What about you?” You ask Jake. “What do you do for fun?”

You find out Jake’s the complete opposite of you. He likes to go out. He likes to play sports; basketball, football, soccer, rugby, cricket, baseball. He’s probably done every sport there is. He also likes to go fishing, which you find highly unenjoyable. He’s very active, he finds comfort in exercising. And more importantly, he enjoys a good party.

“Do you drink a lot?” You ask Jake.

“Depends on the day,” Jake answers. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug. “I’m just curious. I don’t drink that much. I do enjoy a bit of white wine here and there, though.”

The conversation between you and Jake seems stilted. You can’t find any common ground -- Jake doesn’t watch many TV shows and not a lot of K-dramas. He watches movies every now and then when he finds time in his busy schedule. “I’m busy almost every day of the week,” Jake explains. “I have football practice and debate club practice, and I handle the funds of our frat since I’m the treasurer. I also pick up tutoring jobs most days.” Even his music taste doesn’t match yours. Anything from Justin Bieber to AC/DC is what Jake enjoys. Different from your own taste.

“Do you know Taylor Swift?” You ask Jake.

“I know her song, Love Story,” Jake answers.

You drop the subject of music immediately.

The food arrives, and it’s awful. You take a bite of your food and immediately regret it because the food is chewy. Very chewy and it tastes severely undercooked. While Jake happily eats his food, you’re left with pushing your food around your plate because you don’t want to cause a scene. You don’t want to make some waitress’ day awful because of your complaints about undercooked food.

Jake gives you a look as he notices you haven’t touched your plate of food.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell Jake with a grin you hope placates Jake. He just shrugs and continues on eating. The silence is unbearable and your eyes begin to burn, which leads you to reprimand yourself -- why are you tearing up? You have no right to tear up. (Or maybe you do because this date is going badly. The awkward silence refuses to go away, and the more you talk with Jake, the more you realize how little you have in common with him.)

Jake finishes eating and there’s another five-minute silence. “Wanna go get ice cream?” Jake asks. His eyes beg you to say no and you want to say no, but instead, you say “Sure!”

You follow Jake up to the counter to pay, but of course, something bad just has to happen to you. A waitress passing by trips up and spills the red wine she was carrying all over your top. You stand there, fists clenched and blinking back your tears as the waitress apologizes profusely.

“It’s okay,” you assure the waitress, waving her away. “It’s okay.” (It wasn’t okay.)

“What happened?” Jake asks you after he finishes using the voucher to pay, noticing the large red stain on your white top.

“Red wine spillage. Let’s go get ice cream.” You step out of the restaurant and wait for Jake to lead you down the street to the nearby ice cream parlor.

On the way, you once again, don’t notice a large puddle until you’re stepping in it, completely soaking your right foot -- shoes, socks, and all. You groan loudly and shake your first threateningly up at the sky, wondering what you did to make this happen to you.

“You okay?” Jake asks you, frowning slightly.

“Yeah,” you respond, blushing when you realize Jake had been watching as you cursed at the sky above.

Entering the parlor, you search your pockets for your wallet. Your movements become increasingly frantic when you can’t find it and then it hits you -- you have left your wallet on your bedside table. Jake, increasingly perceptive, notices your troubled expression. “What’s up, Y/N?”

You sigh and hang your head, mumbling, “I forgot my wallet.”

“Hmm? What was that?”

“I forgot my wallet,” you repeat louder. The silence that follows is suffocating.

Jake sighs and when you look up, he doesn’t look impressed as he says, “I’ll pay.”

“No -- it’s okay. We don’t have to get ice cream. I don’t want you to pay,” You hold your hands out, your eyes wide and the tears burn your eyes once more.

“I’ll pay,” Jake repeats, more firmly this time. “Pick what flavor you want.”

“Mint chocolate,” you say without hesitation.

Jake makes a face. “You like mint chocolate?”

“It’s the best flavor.”

Jake shudders and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

You step up to the counter, Jake gesturing for you to go first. “Can I have mint chocolate please?”

The girl behind the register smiles politely. “Sorry, we ran out of mint chocolate. Do you have another flavor you would like to try?”

You don’t know why, but that was your breaking point. You break out into sobs and the entire shop quietens, all eyes turning to you as you begin to sob at the mention of the shop having no mint chocolate ice cream. Without bothering to excuse yourself, you exit the store, sobbing louder as you stand outside in the cold with soaking wet feet, and a white top stained red.

You wonder why today of all days, the world decides to be cruel to you. Any other day would’ve been fine, but instead, on the day of your blind date with Jake Sim of all people, the world decides to unleash its fury on you.

The door slams shut behind you and you turn around, finding Jake standing in front of the entrance, a small paper cup full of ice cream in hand. You stare at him, unable to respond. Jake had still gotten ice cream, making sure to take his time, instead of coming out to check on you. Maybe you and Jake weren’t compatible in any way -- he was a T, after all, whereas you were an F.

“Jake, what the fuck--”

He steps closer, holding out the paper cup that had two spoons. You peer into the cup, seeing green ice cream with dots of occasional brown chocolate chips. Jake had gotten mint chocolate ice cream. You look at Jake, floundering for words.

“They had mint chocolate out back,” Jake informs you. “I told them to go get it.”

“You don't -- you don’t like mint chocolate though.”

Jake shrugs. “But you do. Here, you must be cold.” He slips off his jean jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Instantly, you feel warm and the awful feeling that had manifested in your gut disappears. You wipe away your tears and take the unused wooden spoon, scooping up some mint chocolate ice cream and letting it melt in your mouth.

“Thank you, Jake,” you say softly. “How could I ever repay you? You didn’t have to do this.”

“You were having a shitty day,” Jake answers with a small smile -- a small yet genuine smile. His first genuine smile of the date. “It was the least I could do.”

“Well, thank you.” You repeat.

“I know how you can repay me, Y/N,” a mischievous grin spreads across Jake’s face as he takes a step closer. There’s a change of energy in the air and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You can repay me with a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

Jake hums, nodding. “A kiss.” There’s a beat. “You can say no, though.”

“No,” you say, and Jake’s expression changes. He steps back, but instantly you’re yanking him close to you, desperate to correct the misunderstanding. “I mean. No. I don’t want to say no. I want to kiss you, Jake.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat.

Jake’s hand cups your cheek. His eyes hold yours, an intense look in them. He begins to lean in and your heart speeds up, your cheek burning beneath Jake’s touch.

“You don’t have chlamydia, do you?” You ask Jake, your voice breathless.

Jake snorts. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Jake answers with a kiss. Immediately, with your hand that isn’t holding the cup of ice cream, you grip the collar of Jake’s dress shirt. His lips are warm against yours, and he tastes like mint chocolate. You kiss back eagerly, giving in to the warmth of Jake, and the gentle probing of his tongue, sighing loudly.

“Well, well, well,” an unfamiliar voice cuts through the air. “What do we have here, little Jakey?”

Jake pulls away from you, forehead against yours as he catches his breath before turning around, his hand slipping away from your cheek and bringing all of your warmth with it. “Hyunjae,” Jake says, but he doesn’t sound happy to see the stranger.

You drink in the appearance of the stranger. You’ve never seen him in your life. But you can pick out slight similarities between Jake and this stranger -- Hyunjae. Maybe they’re related in some way, and your cheeks begin to burn a deep red.

“Did you finally settle down, Jakey?” Hyunjae remarks, not kindly.

“What’s it to you?” Jake retorts, his voice strained.

Hyunjae holds up his hands. “I’m just curious, you are my baby cousin after all. I’m very protective over you,” his eyes slide over to you and he gives you a smile that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand. “I’m Hyunjae. Jake’s cousin! We grew up together. How long have you two been dating?”

“Nice to meet you, Hyunjae,” you respond in a small voice. “But we’re not --”

“Don’t answer him, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off, sounding furious. “He’s not worth your time. Go find someone else to bother, Hyunjae. Fuck off.”

Hyunjae holds up his hands like he’s surrendering himself. “No need to get all aggressive, Jakey.” He then winks your way. “I look forward to seeing you around, Y/N.”

Hyunjae walks past you and Jake, sending one last smile over his shoulder. The smile feels like a warning.

You turn to Jake, looking for answers. You find him scuffing his shoe along the ground and mumbling curses under his breath. “Uh, Jake?” You poke his shoulder and he turns to you as if he was only just realizing you were next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Did you drive here?” Jake asks you.

“Uh, no. Ricky dropped me off. Why?”

“Can I take you home?”

You don’t know why your heart drops to your gut. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

“Great.” Jake takes your hand into his and pulls you in the direction of his car. You quickly dump the melted ice cream into a nearby trash can and try to keep up with Jake’s rapid footsteps. Jake’s car is a car you expected from someone like him; a flashy black Lexus.

When you are in the safety of Jake’s car, Jake turns to face you and inhales sharply. He doesn’t make any move to turn on the car. “That was my cousin, Hyunjae,” Jake says. “He’s the fucking worst. I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone as much as I hate Hyunjae, and it’s just my luck that he stumbles upon us on a date. Look, Y/N, I know we’ve just met, and I know this date went awful, and I probably don’t have the honor of asking this; but do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You stare at Jake, taken aback. A high-pitched, broken, “What?” Escapes your mouth.

“Not -- not a real girlfriend of course, just. Just a fake one. Let’s fake date. I know Hyunjae, and I know he’s already spreading the news about you and me to everyone in my family. And when it comes to my family --” Jake shakes his head. “It’s best if we fake date for a bit.”

You blink rapidly, trying to take everything in. The past few minutes have gone by so fast -- one moment you were crying because of how awful this day was, then you were wrapped up in Jake’s arms, kissing him, and the next you were watching Jake fight with his cousin and now. And now you’re being asked by Jake to fake date him. “What -- what do I get from this?” You respond. “Say I agree. What’s in it for me?”

Jake obviously wasn’t expecting that kind of response. It takes a while for him to respond to you. “I’ll do anything you ask,” Jake responds. “If you need to be picked up, I’ll pick you up. If you need to be dropped off somewhere, I’ll drop you off.” You don’t respond, thinking over Jake’s offer, but he takes the silence as your rejection so he adds desperately; “I’ll pay you.”

“You’ll -- you’ll pay me?” You look at Jake, gobsmacked.

“I’ll pay you.” Jake nods.

“Tell me why you need us to date this badly,” you tell Jake.

“Look, my family -- they’re not a normal family. All wealthy families aren’t normal. Mine -- they’re all competitive with each other. If one kid gets a high grade, everyone else’s kids must get a higher grade or else they aren’t worthy of having the last name ‘Sim’.” Jake explains. “Our family is not kind to each other. And when it comes to dating,” Jake sighs. “Breaking up with your significant other is the worst thing you could do. My relatives view breaking up as a sign of incompetence, a sign that you aren’t fit to take over the family business. It’s stupid, I know, and the last time I brought someone home, it ended in a disaster and -- and I want to prove them wrong. I want to show them that I can have a lasting relationship, and finally make my family proud of me.”

“What a fucked up family,” you respond in disbelief. “They really view breaking up that way? What, would they rather you cheat on your significant other while in a relationship?” Jake’s silence is your answer and you stare at Jake with wide eyes. “You’re joking. Right?”

Jake shakes his head.

“Would you -- would you cheat on me if I agreed?” You don’t know why you sound vulnerable.

Jake shakes his head aggressively, reaching for your hands. “No. No. I don’t -- I don’t like cheating. Or cheaters. That’s the lowest thing someone can do.”

“Okay,” you nod your head. “Why do you hate Hyunjae so much? Is it just because of the family rivalry?”

Jake sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. You try to not let that distract you from the situation at hand. “Well, yes. The rivalry doesn’t exactly help me have loving relationships with my family members but -- my previous girlfriend cheated on me with Hyunjae. They’re still dating now, and I always see her at family dinners and I just. I just want to prove to both of them that I can move on -- that I have moved on.”

You let Jake’s explanation simmer for a while. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your girlfriend -- fake girlfriend.”

Jake grins, squeezing your hands. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” Silence fills the car and you sigh. “We need to map out the timeline of our relationship, sort out what are the dos and don’ts of this relationship, and how we will deal with the pieces we’re supposed to write about our blind date for the school magazine.”

Jake nods his head.

“I went out on a blind date last week,” you inform Jake. “It was Saturday. Soobin Choi. So we have had to meet after that.”

“Soobin Choi?” Jake gives you a look. “You don’t look like the type of girl to go for Soobin Choi.”

You scowl. “My friend set it up for me. And don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll ever be a Soobin Choi girl.”

“Who knows you went on this blind date?” Jake asks you. “Other than the people who arranged this for us.”

“Wonyoung Jang.”

“Wonyoung? You’re friends with Wonyoung?”

You nod your head and Jake grins. “My friend, Sunghoon Park? Do you know him? Anyway, he has a huge crush on Wonyoung.”

You giggle. “I think Wonyoung likes him back. They’ve been texting a lot recently.”

Jake gasps. “That’s who he’s been texting? That motherfucker wouldn’t tell me who it was.” Jake cracks his neck, “I’m so going to get him when I get home.” He then turns to you. “Only Jay and Sunoo know about the blind date. Do you think Wonyoung can keep quiet about how we actually met?”

You nod your head. “She loves keeping secrets.”

“Great,” Jake nods his head. “We threw a party last week on Saturday. What if you said you stopped by after the date?”

“Soobin dropped me back home, though,” you respond. “And lots of people saw me enter the dorm.”

“What about after?” Jake asks.

“I guess that could work. Wonyoung is a party girl. She could’ve taken me out to party after the date that ended in disaster, and I met you there.”

Jake nods his head. “I think that’s believable.”

“But didn’t you get screamed at by a girl for giving her chlamydia that night?”

Jake grins. “So that’s why you asked if I had chlamydia.”

“Whatever,” you huff.

“We’ll say we comforted each other about our shitty nights and knew then that we had a connection. I asked you out, and you said yes. What did you do Monday night?”

“I had classes until 4 PM.”

Jake nods his head. “I had football practice until five, and then I drove myself around for a few hours. Decompressing after a shit practice. I got McDonalds. You can’t go wrong with McDonalds after working off all the fat gathered up from having too much McDonalds.” Jake shakes his head in amusement at himself. “I could say I took you out then, but we didn’t go to McDonalds.”

“We went to the rollerskating rink,” you suggest. “I’ve always wanted to go on a date there.”

“Okay,” Jake nods his head.

“Hey what if -- what if we admit to dating each other on the pieces we write about our blind date?”

Jake looks at you, confused.

“I applied for the blind date on Saturday. Before I “left” for Enha’s party. And I got the notification that I’d been chosen on Wednesday. After we supposedly began dating. We could say we mentioned that we applied for this blind date thing to each other, and realized we were the two people chosen. Doesn’t that sound believable?”

“That works. I applied for the blind date on Friday.” Jake’s smile slowly grows. “This is all working out!”

“That way, we won’t really be lying about the blind date if someone asks,” you tell Jake.

Jake holds his hand up for a high five. You slap it, sharing an excited grin with Jake. Everything was falling into place. “OK, we have our story settled, now are there any boundaries you want to mention? Though, if we want to keep this believable I have to be able to kiss you. On the lips. A lot.” Jake looks shy as he mentions this. “I’m -- I’m a very affectionate boyfriend. Or hook up. I like to kiss, so we’re gonna have to kiss a lot.”

Your heart leaps to your throat. Kissing Jake on the lips whenever he felt like it? You would be stupid to not agree. “That’s fine,” you hope you come across as calm at the thought of kissing Jake. “I don’t mind. I don’t really have anything to mention-- except when should we break up?”

“Uh.”

“What about my birthday? February 14th. That gives us...A month and a bit of dating.”

“You were born on Valentine's Day?” Jake asks in awe.

You nod your head. “Yeah. Does that sound good?”

Jake nods his head. “For sure.” Then he frowns, biting his lip once again. You’re beginning to hate it when he does that because it only makes you want to kiss him. “Do you…Do you think you could come to every party Enhypen throws?”

“Why?”

“Heeseung’s girlfriend, Yunjin, always comes to our parties even though she’s not a partier herself.”

You shrug, thinking of Wonyoung always telling you to go out and live your life. “Why not?”

“And pet names? Do you like them? Baby? Babe? Pookie Pie?”

You shove Jake. “Pet names are cute. As long as they don’t go overboard, like Pookie Pie, or muffin, or anything relating to food.”

“Okay,” Jake holds out his hand for you to shake. “One last time; are you sure you want to be my fake girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you respond. “I have to tell Wonyoung about this, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine,” Jake says, shaking your hand tightly. “I have to tell Jay and Sunoo anyway. I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow? For the party? Wonyoung can come too.”

You agree. “Alright, I’ll take you home now.”

The drive home is filled with Jake’s Justin Bieber playlist. You decide that your first course of action as Jake’s fake girlfriend will be to change his choice in music. You will craft him a playlist to use whenever you’re in the car with him, so you can both listen to tunes you both enjoy.

After exchanging numbers, you hug Jake goodbye and fly up to your dorm, eagerly bursting in and scaring the shit out of Wonyoung.

“Wonyoung,” you exclaim, heaving for air, “you will never believe what just happened.”

—-

jake 🤍

5 mins away :)

After you receive Jake’s text, you send yourself into a frenzy, pacing your small dorm with Wonyoung sitting on her bed, watching. “Oh my god, this is a mistake. I should’ve never agreed to fake date Jake. Fuck.” You look at Wonyoung, halting your pacing. “I fucked up badly and you’re not going to say anything?”

Wonyoung smiles at you. “I think this will be a good thing, Y/N. Think optimistically! Who knows, you could develop lifelong friendships because of this.”

You cuss out Wonyoung and resume your pacing, jumping at every loud sound. You weren’t prepared for tonight -- how were you supposed to act like you were in love with Jake when you literally only met and talked to him yesterday? You weren’t an actor, and you were a terrible liar.

Your phone buzzes. “He’s here,” you tell Wonyoung. “Can’t I tell him I’m feeling sick?”

Wonyoung shakes her head, sliding off her bed and throwing you the leather jacket you took from Youngeun. “No, put that on, and let’s go get fucking wasted!” Wonyoung cheers loudly and you roll your eyes, tugging the leather jacket over your red corset top.

Jake was scrolling through his phone when you walked up to his car. You rap your knuckles against the window and Jake looks up, breaking out into a grin when he sees you. You walk around to the passenger’s side and slide into the car, hearing whispers of Justin Bieber playing in the background.

“Good evening,” Jake greets. “You look nice.”

Your hands fiddle with your short black skirt, trying to stop the blush from heating up your cheeks. “It’s nothing,” you respond, “just something Wonyoung picked out for me.”

At the mention of Wonyoung, Jake turns to look behind him, grinning at Wonyoung. “Hey, I’m Jake. It’s nice to finally meet you. Sunghoon talks about you a lot.”

You watch Wonyoung blush. “I hope it’s good things.”

Jake giggles. “It’s only ever good things about you, don’t worry.” He then settles back down and looks at you. “Are you ready, Y/N? You can back out if you want, there’s always another party you could go to.”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. Let me play some music, though, enough Justin Bieber.”

Jake drives you and Wonyoung back to his frat to the tune of One Direction’s discography. You were surprised to find out Jake knew most of One Direction’s songs. You’d finally found common ground with Jake, and your chest warms at the thought.

The street is packed with cars, and late party-goers walking on the road, but with skilled ease, Jake maneuvers his way to the frat and parks the car up the driveway without a hitch. The music dies along with the car and is replaced with bass-booming music. The whole frat looks like it’s shaking. Jake turns to you and smiles, “I have some things to check up on, so take your time, alright? I’ll get you in a few minutes.” With a wink, he climbs out of his car and races into the frat, dapping up a few guys on the way in.

Immediately, your nerves skyrocket. You began to second-guess yourself, and your fingers returned to fiddle with the edge of your skirt. Noticing your nerves, Wonyoung speaks up, reaching through the gap between the driver and passenger seat for your hand. “You got this, Y/N. You better become an Oscar-winning actress as soon as you step out of this car. Your whole college career depends on this exact moment.”

You scowl at Wonyoung, pinching her wrist. “Some best friend you are,” you huff.

“Tough love,” Wonyoung shrugs.

“Tough love my ass.”

“Look, Y/N, I’ll be by your side the entire night --”

“--Don’t lie, Wony --”

“--For most of the night. But, you’ll be fine. You work well under pressure and remember, if in doubt, just kiss the life out of Jake. Making out is the best way to draw and lose attention simultaneously.”

Jake appears suddenly, knocking on the window and beckoning you out. Wonyoung climbs out first, striking up a conversation with Jake as you work up the nerves to exit Jake’s car. After inhaling and exhaling a few times, you open the car door and step out.

The music is much louder now. The shouting and cheers of already drunk party goers fill the air, and everywhere you look, there is a girl in a short dress, or a short skirt, much like yourself and Wonyoung. “I’ll see you inside, Y/N. In the kitchen, getting a drink.” Wonyoung squeezes your shoulder and walks across the lawn, smiling at a few people whom you’ve never seen interact with Wonyoung in your life.

Next to you, Jake touches your shoulders and turns you to face him. His smile is warm and it soothes your nerves. “Just stay by my side, alright? Stand next to me and look pretty, that’s easy, right?”

You smile. “I suppose.”

“Great,” Jake kisses your forehead and intertwines your hands together. He squeezes once, and then leads you across the lawn, pausing every now and then to talk to unfamiliar faces to you, but familiar faces to him. Eventually, you reach the frat and Jake pauses, looking at you for assurance before pushing forward.

His grip on your hand becomes firmer as he guides you through the large crowd of people filling the frat. Loud voices shout in your ear, and sweaty bodies knock up against your own. You begin to grow hot beneath Youngeun’s leather jacket.

You and Jake reach the kitchen, and you see Wonyoung standing with your friends. Warmth floods you and the nerves dissipate. Jake leads you over to the counter swimming in red cups and assortments of alcoholic drinks, along with some kind of alcoholic punch.

“Jungwon wanted to try making some weird alcoholic punch,” Jake informs you, bending down to shout his words against your ear. “I would suggest avoiding it. What do you want to drink?”

Jake offers his ear to you, still bending slightly so he is able to hear you over the music. “A White Claw. Black cherry flavor.”

Jake nods his head, drawing away. “Got it, Y/N.” he kisses your cheek. “I see your friends eyeing you. Go talk to them while I scavenge for some White Claws.”

You approach your friends, a blush rising to your cheeks as they all give you a knowing look. “Were you just with Jake Sim?” Yoon practically shouts, her cheeks already a bright red, courtesy of the red cup she holds in her hand. “Were you holding hands?”

“He kissed your cheek, Y/N!” Jiwon exclaims, her eyes wide and dimples appearing as she shouts at you. “What the fuck?”

You blush and dip your head. You felt self-conscious for whatever reason. “We’re dating,” you say loudly, avoiding eye contact. All of your friends, bar Wonyoung, gasp loudly and their voices clamber to be heard over the voice of Nicki Minaj rapping in the song Beauty and the Beat.

“When the fuck did this happen?!” Hikaru exclaims.

“Monday,” you respond.

There’s more shouting and you look to Wonyoung for guidance. She gives you an assuring smile and a small bout of confidence surges through your veins. “We met at a party last week,” you continue to explain. “Wonyoung brought me after my failed date with Soobin.”

“I can’t believe you managed to get cuffed -- and by Jake Sim at that,” Yoon explains, astonished.

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean, Yoon?”

“Oh! No offense to you!” Yoon says, realizing how awful her words sounded. “It’s just -- ever since he broke up with his last girlfriend, Jake’s been known to just sleep around. He hasn’t been in a committed relationship in a year and a half.” Yoon eyes you carefully, “just. Be careful, Y/N, I don’t want him to break your heart. You’re very precious. Too innocent for his kind of world.”

“I’ll be fine, Yoon,” you say to the girl, breaking out into a smile. “Jake takes care of me well.” You peer over your shoulder, catching sight of Jake leaning against the counter, chatting up a girl who grins, leaning forward to run her hand up his arm. Your heart drops and hurt immediately floods your chest.

You guess you spoke too soon.

Or not.

Jake catches your eye. “Hey, baby!” He shouts, drawing the attention of the girl sliding her hand up his arm, and everyone in the kitchen. “You wanted a black cherry white claw, right?” He holds up the can and winks.

You smile back. “That’s the one I wanted! I knew I could count on you, Jake!” The girl immediately retracts her hand, and the kitchen breaks out into loud voices, all saying the exact same thing -- Jake’s with Y/N?

You excuse yourself from your group of friends, who all grin at you, and bound over to Jake who is waiting for you. Without thinking it through, you rise to your toes, wrap a hand around the back of Jake’s neck, and bring him in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of Jake’s lips against yours.

You grab the white claw from Jake after the kiss, crack it open, and take a long sip. The alcohol cools you down immediately. “What was that for?” Jake asks you, amusement highlighting his face.

You shrug, not sure if your cheeks were hot because of the leather jacket you were wearing, or because you kissed Jake without thinking. “Just felt like it.”

Jake scoffs and leans down, stealing a kiss for himself.

“What was that for?” You ask him, repeating his words.

Jake repeats your own words, coupling it with a shrug as well. “Just felt like it.”

“I’m feeling hot,” you admit to Jake, “Is there anywhere I could put my leather jacket?”

“You could put it in my room.”

You give Jake a look and he snorts. “There was no other intention behind those words. We can just deposit your jacket in my room, and then join the party. Perhaps go dancing? Or we could socialize. It’s up to you, really. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

If you were able to see yourself, you think you would find stars in your eyes as you follow Jake out of the kitchen, his hand tightly gripping your own.

It’s well after one in the morning when you find yourself kissing Jake on one of the many couches in the frat. His arm is wrapped lazily around your waist as he keeps you close, his lips moving against yours in tandem. You explore Jake’s mouth with a vigor you didn’t even know you had, and you happily relish in the taste of the vodka shots Jake had encouraged you to take moments before you pulled him in for a kiss, which led to your fourth makeout session ever.

Someone clears their throat loudly and you and Jake break apart, chests heaving and eyes unable to look away. You’re the first to avert eye contact, looking at the stranger in front of you. The silver hair is immediately recognizable. Sunghoon Park towers over you and Jake, with Wonyoung gripping his bicep tightly, swaying slightly. She looked dazed.

“You’re Y/N?” Sunghoon looks to you for confirmation.

You nod your head, feeling as if you were floating. You’re pretty sure you’re tipsy. “Who’s asking?”

“Wony’s a bit drunk.” The use of Wonyoung’s nickname doesn’t slip past you. Nickname terms, huh? You think to yourself. “I think she should go home.”

“I’ll take them home,” Jake says, draping an arm over your shoulder and pulling you back against him, your body flush against his. “I’m the sober driver for tonight.”

Sunghoon snorts. “I totally believe you.”

Jake scowls. “Scout’s honor! I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol.”

“I’ll believe you. Get Wonyoung home safely.”

“Aye Aye captain,” Jake salutes, and Sunghoon whispers something to Wonyoung, who smiles and nods her head. Jake pushes himself off the couch, and then helps you up, giving you a gentle smile and moving hair out of your eyes.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Jake says, “Let’s get you home, Y/N.”

—-

You were still reeling from the party on Saturday. You don’t know what overcame you -- maybe it was the alcohol invading your bloodstream and the fact that all the attention was on you, that made you kiss Jake and cling to him while you danced.

Your phone lights up with another text from Jake. You had texted him throughout Sunday. He checked in a few times on Sunday, making sure you were feeling okay. Jake’s care for you made your heart expand times ten, but you had to remind yourself that this was all fake -- that none of this was real.

jake 🤍

Where are you?

you

library

in one of the study rooms

jake 🤍

What room?

you

third floor, twenty one A

jake 🤍

Ok. See you soon ❤️

Your heart pounds in your throat. You weren’t sure what you were going to do when Jake turns up in your study room with a large smile and hopeful brown eyes. He arrives quicker than you expected, opening the door and grinning at you.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, slipping into the chair beside you.

“Hi,” you greet back quietly, focusing on your laptop in front of you. Silence embraces the room and your leg shakes beneath the table. You didn’t know how to work around Jake. He was an enigma. He was a puzzle -- a one thousand-piece puzzle that would take hours, if not days to figure out. He was a puzzle that came in a blank box with no photo to show you what the puzzle was supposed to look like.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt suddenly, unable to handle the silence. “I’m sorry about Saturday. I don’t know how to handle myself around you. I don’t know how to do relationships because I’ve never been in one, especially a fake one at that. It’s just -- it’s just so hard and confusing and I feel lost and. And. I’m sorry if I did anything weird or wrong or --”

“Y/N,” Jake interrupts your ramble. “You apologize too much.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Jake gives you a look and you avert your eyes.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You didn’t do anything wrong on Saturday. You were fine. I guess I’m also at fault for partially pushing you to join me at the party when we really haven’t spent any time together outside of that one blind date.” Jake reaches for your hands. “I’m here to help you, Y/N, we can work out how this fake relationship works together. First, you have to tell me a little bit more about yourself. Like, we should ask each other deep-hitting questions.”

You look at Jake and return his smile. “What are these deep-hitting questions?”

Jake hums in thought. “Like…What’s your favorite color?”

You snicker. “That’s a deep-hitting question?”

Jake nods his head, dead serious. “So? Your favorite color?”

“I like yellow,” you respond.

“Alright. Yellow. Any particular reason?”

You shake your head. “It’s a nice color. Warm color. Happy color. What’s your favorite color?”

“Red,” Jake responds. “No particular reason, like you. I just like how it looks. Not bright red, though, a dark deep red. Maroon is a nice color as well.” Jake reaches for another question. “What’s your family like?”

“I have a mom and younger sister. My dad passed away when I was young,” you tell Jake, your voice taking on a gentler tone. “My mom is my biggest inspiration. I look up to her a lot. She raised my sister and I all on her own. I was three when my dad passed, and my younger sister was one. I don’t really have many memories of my father, but I have plenty of my mother never giving up. She’s the reason I’m where I am now. She sacrificed everything for me.”

“She sounds amazing,” Jake responds, his tone matching your gentle one.

“She is. I talk to her and my younger sister every day.”

“How old is your younger sister?”

“She’s fifteen. She’s a freshman. Her name is Myeong.” You tilt your head as you look at Jake. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

“My mom and dad are…very pushy and controlling. My dad wants me to graduate and take over the family business, and my mom is very eager for grandkids before she dies. They’re only proud of me when I accomplish something big, and my mom likes -- or well, used to control everything about my life when I was living under her roof.” Jake sighs, “but my older brother, he’s the only person I love in my family. He was always there for me, and always protected me. I love him a lot.”

Jake shifts in his chair and straightens his posture. “Ouch. I just brought the mood down. Sorry. Your mother and sister sound like fun.”

“It’s okay, Jake,” you comfort the older boy. “And yes. They’re very fun to be around. I can’t wait to spend winter break with them.”

“Right, winter break is next week.” Jake hunches back over. “I have to spend Christmas with my family. It’s not gonna be fun, especially since everyone has caught wind of our relationship.”

“You can do this, Jake,” you tell him with an encouraging grin, “If you need to escape though, call me and I’ll pretend to be having a meltdown so you can come over to mine for some reprieve. We usually watch all the Santa Clause movies after our Christmas dinner.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jake says, “are you hungry?”

You nod your head. “I was about to ask you if you wanted to take me to get some churros.”

“Right!” Jake stands as you begin to pack up your things. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for your bank details. I need to pay you.”

You look at Jake and frown. “I don’t want your money, Jake, seriously. It’s okay to not pay me.”

Jake shakes his head. “I feel bad for using you like this, though, Y/N. Please let me pay you, it’ll help ease my guilty consciousness for getting you involved in this mess.”

You sigh. “Fine. But I’m moving all the money you give me to a different account and not spending a single dollar.”

“That’s fine, as long as I’m able to pay you.”

After zipping up your bag, you pull out your phone and give Jake your bank details. “Now that that’s finished, I have something to tell you,” You step out of the study room with Jake trailing behind you. You let Jake fall into step beside you, and reach for his hand. “I’m thinking of making you a playlist to play whenever you drive me around because I’m planning on taking advantage of having you at my mercy.”

Jake smiles down at you. There’s a hint of fondness hidden in that smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Y/N. What songs were you thinking of putting on the playlist?”

“I’m keeping Justin Bieber off,” you retort jokingly.

Jake gasps and wretches his hand out of yours. You giggle and pout, reaching for Jake’s hand. “I was joking! You’re such a baby, Jakey poo.” You reach up to pinch his cheeks and Jake bats your hand away, intertwining your hands back together instead.

“It’ll be a surprise,” you tell Jake as the elevator doors open. “But I’m making sure it’s songs that both of us will enjoy because I’m such a great girlfriend.”

Jake rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his fondness. “Of course you are, baby.” His eyes light up as if a light bulb went off above his head. “By the way, happy one week!” He kisses your cheek.

You roll your eyes. “Sap.”

“Only for you,” Jake responds.

—-

A few days later, you’re staring at a large frat. It’s your first time seeing the Enhypen frat up close during the daytime. You wouldn’t even be able to tell Enhypen throws massive raging parties from judging the outside appearance of the frat. The grass is neatly cut, and the bushes growing around the perimeter are groomed to near perfection. Someone obviously has a bit of a green thumb in the frat.

You walk up the porch steps and knock on the bright red door that feels rough beneath your knuckles. It doesn’t take long for the door to swing open, revealing Jungwon Yang. You know quite a bit about Jungwon Yang, since Wonyoung grew up with Jungwon and you’re Wonyoung’s best friend. It surprises you how many mutual friends you and Jungwon share, yet you’ve never once spoken to him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jungwon greets, pulling the door open wider to allow you in. “Jake’s in his room.”

“Hey, Jungwon,” you greet back, letting the boy shut the door behind you. You slide off your shoes and straighten up. “Where is Jake’s room?”

“I’ll show you. How are your classes going?” Jungwon makes conversation as he leads you through the spacious frat. It’s clear to you that this is a legacy frat. Everything screams wealth. You feel sorely out of place, but you’ll prefer to keep these thoughts to yourself.

“They’re going good. A lot of work, but I like it. It keeps me busy.”

“I’ve never been this busy,” Jungwon says with a small smile. He climbs the stairs, you following closely behind. “Didn’t you go to Jake’s room during the last party?”

“I don’t remember,” you admit sheepishly. “That whole night feels like a fever dream. I was really nervous the entire time.”

Jungwon nods his head. “You know, from what Won told me about you, I never expected you and Jake to date. You two seem like total opposites. I hope you don’t take offense.”

“None taken,” you tell Jungwon. “And I have to admit, I felt the same way, but somehow the words ring true; opposites do attract. We work well with each other.” You don’t know where this load of bullshit was coming from, but anything to make Jungwon believe what you have with Jake is real.

The door to the bathroom swings open and Sunoo Kim steps out. Your heart pounds in your ears as Sunoo’s sharp eyes latch onto your figure. The older boy genuinely intimidates you. His facial features are incredibly sharp, and his words are even sharper. He holds grudges for a long time, and he’s a known gossiper. Sunoo’s reputation across campus is an intimidating one, but you also know from Wonyoung that he’s one of the nicest, kindest, and cutest boys she knows. “Don’t let his resting bitch face scare you,” Wonyoung advised. “He’s just fiercely loyal and protective of his friends, that’s why he has that reputation.”

“Hello, Y/N,” Sunoo says.

“Hey, Sunoo.” Your hands begin to sweat. God, sorry Wonyoung, you think. But Sunoo scares me.

“Here to see Jake?” Sunoo asks you, not unkindly.

You nod your head. “He invited me over to study. I have a test tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you’ll get much studying done with Jake,” Sunoo states, and once again, he wasn’t being mean or judgy. It just seems like a simple observational statement -- he knows Jake better than you, having grown up with the older boy. “Keep the noise down.”

Your cheeks flush and Jungwon snorts. “No need to be so bitchy, Sunoo.”

“Sunghoon used up all my face wash,” Sunoo groans, his face transforming into a pout you’ve never seen the boy wear. He looks extremely soft and squishable and Wonyoung’s words about Sunoo bounce around your head. Maybe you truly don’t have a reason to be so afraid of the older boy.

Immediately, your hand goes for the shoulder bag you were carrying, and you pull out the newly bought face wash that was haphazardly lying about. “Here,” you hold out your face wash. “Take this.”

Sunoo stares at your outstretched hand. “We use the same face wash brand! Do you just carry your face wash around with you everywhere?” Sunoo’s gaze pierces your soul and you immediately flush bright red. You really need to get your blushing situation under control.

“I -- I don’t carry it around with me. I just stopped by the quick mart on the way here to buy it since I had run out of it. But here, you can take it. I’ll just buy another on my way home.”

“Really?” Sunoo asks.

“Yes,” you shake the face wash in the air. “Take it.”

Sunoo’s face splits into a grin, completely transforming all his sharp edges into soft edges. Sunoo’s truly a different person when he smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re very kind.”

“It’s nothing,” you mumble.

A door at the end of the hall is wrenched open and Jake pops his head out, eyes focusing on the group of three standing around the bathroom. “What’s taking you so long?” Jake groans. “I miss my girlfriend. Stop hogging her.”

“Whatever Jake,” Sunoo scoffs. He steps back into the bathroom. “I hope to see you around often, Y/N,” Sunoo tells you with a smile, and then he shuts the bathroom door.

“There’s Jake’s room,” Jungwon tells you, pointing to Jake. “Play some music if you’re going to do something other than studying.” Jungwon leaves you a blushing mess in the middle of the hallway.

“Y/N!” Jake calls, beckoning you over eagerly.

With quick steps, you reach Jake in milliseconds. Jake grins down at you and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Pulling away, you look at Jake with a frown. “What was that for? There’s no one around.”

Jake pulls you into his room in lieu of an answer, shutting the door with a thump. “Was Sunoo nice to you?”

You nod your head and drop your shoulder bag onto Jake’s desk. “I gave him my face wash. I think I scored some points with him for that.”

“You had face wash in your bag?” Jake asks, grabbing his football and leaping onto his bed, beginning to throw the football up into the air and catching it.

“I bought some on the way over. I was running out,” you answer, pulling out the chair at Jake’s desk and taking a seat. “Are you going to study?”

“Eventually,” Jake responds. “Did you finish making that playlist?” He pushes himself into a sitting position, gripping the football tightly and displaying an excited expression on his face.

You can’t help but smile. “I did. Want to see?”

Jake nods his head, his blond hair flopping messily. You pull out your phone, unlock it and pull up the Spotify playlist, handing your phone over to Jake. “You can scroll through as I study,” you tell Jake. “Let me know what you think. I added a lot of songs.”

“Woah. Forty-eight hours,” Jake looks at you. “That is a lot of songs.”

You grin, running a hand through your hair to tie it up. “I guess that means you’re legally obliged to hang out with me for forty-eight hours.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Jake grins back.

Silence embraces the room and for once, it’s not awkward. You easily get enraptured in your studying, hearing Jake ooh or ahh or let out a small giggle as he scrolls through the playlist you made solely for Jake to play whenever you’re in the car with him.

After some time, Jake finally speaks up. “I really like the playlist, Y/N.”

You spin around in Jake’s desk chair. “Really?”

Jake nods his head. “I can’t wait to play it.”

“I’m glad. It took me a couple of days to curate. I’m happy you like it.”

“Of course, you made it, Y/N, so that means I’ll like it instantly.”

You groan and fall back into the desk chair. “Shut the fuck up, Jake.” Your tone was clearly teasing, and you’re glad Jake is able to make out the teasing because he laughs loudly.

“Was Jungwon nice to you as well?” Jake asks as he places your phone back on his desk. “Because sometimes he says shit without realizing how harsh it is.”

“He was nice as well, no need to fret, Jake. If they’re your friends I like them immediately.”

As you wait for Jake’s response, a loud banging sound floats through the air, followed by someone shouting a familiar name. “HEESEUNG!” Someone shouts after banging loudly. It’s quiet for a few seconds before the banging and shouting start again.

Jake groans and you leap up to open his door, curious to see who was making a ruckus. You scan the hallway and catch sight of a young boy who was incredibly tall. His blond hair glows brightly and he has a baseball bat and glove tucked beneath the arm that wasn’t doing the knocking.

“Cut it out, Riki,” Jake groans exasperatedly.

“No. He didn’t show up to play baseball with me,” Riki grumbles, continuing to smack the door.

“He spent his entire night revising his thesis with Jeongin and Beomgyu,” Jake responds. “Let him rest.”

Riki finally looks over at Jake, ready to respond, but when he sees you everything seems to pause. Riki stops smacking the door and the words poised at the tip of his tongue slide off. “Woah, is that Y/N? Your girlfriend?” He squints and assesses you. “You could do better than Jake, you know, Y/N.”

“Riki you better shut the fuck up,” Jake threatens.

“You play baseball?” You ask Riki.

“What does it look like?” Riki responds snappily.

“Riki,” hisses Jake.

“Yes,” Riki responds, his tone much nicer albeit exaggerating for Jake’s sake. “I play baseball.”

“That’s cool. Could I play with you?”

“What?” Riki looks bemused like he’d never thought you would offer to play baseball with him.

“Heeseung’s obviously sleeping and you probably shouldn’t disturb him because writing a thesis is hell on earth, so why not play catch with me? I used to play softball for my high school.”

“Softball and baseball are different, though,” Riki deadpans.

“Not really,” you shrug, stepping out of Jake’s room. “The only differences are the gloves, balls, bats, and how you throw the pitches. Other than that, everything is the same. In fact, I used to play baseball with the kids in my neighborhood, and with my cousins whenever I hung out with my family.”

“But you don’t have a glove.”

“I do,” Jake says. “Just play with her, Riki.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you downstairs. We’ll head to the baseball pitch.” Riki slinks down the stairs and you pop back into Jake’s room, watching the older boy rummage around for his baseball glove.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” Jake tells you.

“I want to,” you reply, “if it gives Heeseung more time to rest and keeps Riki distracted -- by the way who even is Riki?”

Jake finds his baseball glove with a triumphant smile. He chucks it to you as he says, “Some kid we picked up off the street. You better hurry downstairs, Riki doesn’t like to be kept waiting. He’s very impatient.” Then, with a shake of his head, Jake mutters, “Teenagers.”

“Aren’t you gonna come down?” You ask Jake. “It would be nice to have you with us.”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there. I need to find my cap.”

“Alright, see ya soon baby,” you salute Jake and walk out of his room, bounding down the stairs and finding Rik waiting for you. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” you tell the boy, hurriedly slipping on your shoes.

Riki shrugs. “It’s fine.”

You step out of the house and walk to the baseball pitch in silence. You find out the baseball pitch is only a few minutes away from the Enhypen frat. It was built next to a park, so there were a few kids playing on the playground.

“You’re Jake’s new girlfriend, huh?” Riki finally says something as you both warm up. You don’t know how you’re going to play baseball with Riki, so you just follow whatever warm-ups he does.

“Yeah,” you respond. “And you’re his friend?”

“Obviously.”

“How old are you?”

“I turned eighteen last week on Friday.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh shit, Jake and I went out last Friday. Sorry for stealing him from you.”

Riki shrugs. “It’s chill. We hung out before and after his date.” You lapse into silence once more. “I like you better than his previous girlfriend,” Riki takes you by surprise as he grabs his bat and practices swinging a few times. “She was really rude. You’re not rude.”

“Thank you?”

“She never played baseball. Always said it would ruin her manicure.” He glances at your nails. “Aren’t you afraid of ruining your manicure?”

“I’m going to my nail tech next week. I don’t really care. Plus it gets tiring wiping your ass with a manicure sometimes.”

Riki stares at you and you immediately regret saying what you said seconds ago. Riki snorts, “You’re so much better than Francesa. She hated it when we would have farting contests.”

You stare at Riki in disbelief. This kid you think. “You’re still in high school aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?” Riki asks.

“You’re still having fart contests.”

Riki scowls.

—-

“Do you have to throw a party for literally every single accomplishment?” You ask Jake, finding yourself back at Enhypen on a Saturday night. Wonyoung was dancing with Sunghoon on the dance floor while you and Jake rested against one of the walls, observing the party.

“Throwing parties is fun, Y/N,” Jake responds. “Especially if you’re celebrating the end of exam week and the start of winter break.”

“I guess celebrating the end of exam week is worth throwing a party.” You sip the alcoholic drink Jake got for you, and watch as Wonyoung laughs over something Sunghoon said. “Wanna go to your room?”

Jake raises his eyebrows and you roll your eyes. “You look tired, Jake, and you aren’t engaging in conversations like you usually do at parties. Let’s just go to your room to talk for a bit.”

“Alright,” Jake shrugs, taking your hand and pulling you up the stairs. You ignore the looks that are being thrown your way. Not everything is about getting laid.

Entering Jake’s bedroom, some sense of comfort embraces you and you feel relieved at the sudden change in environment. Everything feels much nicer in Jake’s room, even if you could still hear the music, albeit muffled.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jake asks, as you both peel off your shoes and slip beneath his light blue comforter, legs immediately tangling beneath it.

“Tell me about your childhood,” you answer. “You haven’t really told me anything.”

“Of course. You’ll tell me about yours after?”

“Any questions you have, I’ll answer honestly,” you grin.

“I would say my childhood was like any other, but I was born into a wealthy family with a trust fund already waiting for me when I turned eighteen,” Jake starts off, making you giggle lightly. “I don’t necessarily have a lot of happy memories of my childhood. But the ones I have only mostly involve my older brother, Jaehyun.”

“What’s your happiest memory with him?”

“Probably when I was six and he was ten, our nanny took us down to the beach. I remember staying at the beach for hours at a time whenever we went. There was also this small forest of trees a little bit further down the beach, and my brother and I would always explore in the small forest, picking up sticks and pretending to hunt down aliens that were planning to take over the world. Time always slipped away from us.”

You watch as Jake floats away from you. It’s like he’s in a different dimension as he recites this story to you, a gentle, happy look you’ve never seen appearing on his face.

“And this one time, it started to rain while my brother and I were playing in this forest, and we got lost. My brother found us some shelter under this large tree, and I started freaking out but my brother comforted me. He told me that he was going to take care of me, no matter what. I stopped crying after that and trusted everything my brother told me and we eventually made it out of the forest. My nanny was worried sick about us, and we never went back to that beach.”

Jake is brought back to you and smiles. “We were lost for fifteen minutes, Y/N, and for ten of those minutes, I was genuinely happy because I had my brother with me, guiding me through life. Jaehyun has always wanted the best for me and has always supported me in all of my endeavors. I don’t have a lot of people like him in my life.”

“That’s really sweet, Jake, I’m glad you have someone like that in your life.”

“Anything else you want to know, Y/N?” Jake asks.

“How did you meet the boys in Enhypen? Did you know any of them before coming to college?”

Jake laughs. “Obviously it’ll take us days for me to explain my close relationship with all thirty of us, but I’ll tell you about my closest friends. The ones you’ve met already.”

“I love a good story,” you say eagerly, pulling the comforter up higher.

“I grew up with Jay and Sunghoon. Our families were closely intertwined, so it just made sense for us to grow up together. They’re like my brothers. I met Heeseung and Sunoo in elementary school. I had heard a lot about Heeseung from Jay since they’re like, distantly related or something, and Sunoo was a friend Sunghoon made while learning how to figure skate. I got along well with them as well, so we all began hanging out. I met Jungwon and Riki in middle school. Riki is the son of one of Jay’s dad’s business partners in Japan. He came to Korea during the summer and stayed with Jay. He eventually applied for a transfer program when he was sixteen, so that’s why he’s around now. Jungwon is just some kid Jay latched on to during Taekwondo practice and never let go.”

“That sounds a lot like a found family novel I would find in a library,” you tease. “But it’s really sweet how you all found each other.”

“I guess it is. They’re my lifelong brothers. But, enough about me. What about you, Y/N? What was your childhood like?”

“It was normal,” you reply, teasing Jake who rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, which I was fine with. I liked being left alone. I think I was just scared of making friends because they might leave me like my father did. But, I don’t feel that way anymore. I’ve made a lot of friends since arriving at college.”

“What’s your happiest memory?”

“Right now, my happiest memory is meeting Wonyoung for the first time,” you tell Jake. “I was so scared moving out of home, and I was scared that I wouldn’t…experience the world my mom talked about whenever she brought up her college years, but I met Wonyoung during move-in day, and I think my life has changed.” You nudge Jake’s shoulder, “you know, if I hadn’t met Wonyoung, I don’t think we would’ve met.”

“Crazy how the world works,” Jake says.

“Very crazy,” you agree. “Did you sleep with plushies when you were younger?”

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, did you?”

A timid smile spreads across your face. “Yeah. I slept with a lot of plushies. I guess I just liked having something to hug and keep me warm while I slept.”

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jake coos, pinching your nose.

“Fuck off, Jake.”

There’s a long silence before Jake starts to talk again. “You know, we’ve known each other for a week and I’ve told you more about myself than most people close to me know.”

You look at Jake in surprise. “Really?”

Jake nods his head. “It’s...easy talking to you, Y/N.”

“I could say the same about you,” you murmur.

“I guess,” Jake starts slowly, leaning forward, his hand cupping your cheek, “we were meant to meet.” His lips are a whisper away from yours. “It’s our fate.” And then he’s kissing you. It’s a gentle kiss, a kiss unlike any you’ve had before. Jake doesn’t make any move to rush the kiss, and you don’t either. You’re both perfectly content to take your time kissing each other.

Jake breaks away and shifts your positioning so you’re half on top of him. He cups your cheek again, pulling you back in for a soft kiss, while his other arm wraps around your waist. Both of your hands are threaded through Jake’s hair, and all you can hear is Little Mix’s Love Me Like You.

—-

The cold of the ice rink hits you suddenly. A chill zips up your spine, and you grip Jake’s hand tighter. It was the first day of winter break, and you and Jake were on a double date with Yunjin and Heeseung. You’d all agreed to go ice skating for the date.

“When was the last time you went ice skating, Y/N?” Yunjin makes conversation as Jake and Heeseung talk about some Pokemon game they had played recently. Yunjin looked pretty today. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, with a few strands curling around her face, and her makeup was light. She was wearing cute pink leg warmers that you eyed with envy.

“Probably when I was…fifteen? I think we went ice skating for a school trip,” you respond. “What about you? When was the last time you went ice skating?”

“A couple weeks back,” Yunjin says smiling. “Heeseung likes to ice skate so we often swing by when we have nothing to do.”

“You’re probably really good then.”

Yunjin laughs. “I’m mediocre at best. Heeseung’s really good though. But, then again, Heeseung’s good at everything.”

“Talking shit about Heeseung again, Yunjin?” Jake asks, joining in on the conversation.

“Yes, because that’s all I do, Jake,” Yunjin retorts sardonically.

“Do you know what size skates you wear, baby?” Jake directs his attention on you, his nose a light red already.

“Um, maybe a six?”

“Woah, you have small hands and feet,” Jake exclaims.

“Rude,” you whack Jake’s chest with your free hand.

“No, it’s cute,” Jake says with a small smile. “You’re super cute, Y/N.” He kisses the tip of your nose and lets go of your hand. “I’ll go with Heeseung to get your skates. Go find us a place to sit.”

Yunjin snakes her arm around yours and pulls you away from Jake, laughing loudly at something Heeseung had whispered to her.

“You and Jake are so cute,” Yunjin says when you finally lay claim on a row of chairs. “You’ve only been dating for what? Two weeks? And you’re already this cute?” Yunjin sighs, “The honeymoon phase is the best part of a relationship. Hee and I have been dating for…woah has it been two years already? We’ve been dating for two years and I don’t think we’ve left the honeymoon stage yet.”

“Yeah,” you agree, not really knowing what else to say.

“How did you meet Jake again?”

“Oh, at one of Enhypen’s parties. We both had shitty nights -- I had a failed date and Jake got accused of giving someone chlamydia -- and we comforted each other. Jake likes to say we had an immediate connection, so he wasted no time in asking me out.”

“Aww,” Yunjin coos, “love at first sight! I wish I got to experience that. Heeseung held a grudge against me for the longest time before he ever admitted his feelings to me.”

“Heeseung holds grudges?” You were pleasantly surprised. “He doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges.”

“I was a special case, apparently,” Yunjin jokes. “But really, Heeseung’s the sweetest, most romantic guy I’ve ever dated.” Her eyes dart over your shoulder, and her grin only gets wider. “Jake’s a really good guy too, if you give him a chance.” She looks back at you and reaches out to squeeze your shoulder. “And it looks like you are giving him a chance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this happy.”

You don’t have time to respond, because Jake takes a seat beside you, dumping your skates onto your lap. “Here you go. Do I get a thank you kiss?”

“If you insist,” you grumble, leaning forward to lay a quick peck on Jake’s lips. “Now help me put them on.”

Yunjin and Heeseung head onto the ice first, leaving you alone with Jake as he laces up his skates after helping you. You nudge Jake’s knee with your own, a sly smile slipping onto your face. “We have a love at first sight story, huh? Does this mean you loove me?”

“Damn,” Jake curses, “how did you find out? Was it that easy to tell?” A smile that matches the one you are wearing slips onto Jake’s face. “Jungwon told me I was being too obvious.”

You snicker and wrap your hands around Jake’s bicep, inching forward to rest your head on his shoulder. “Well, there’s no need to be nervous, Jake, because I love you too, my sweet sugar plum.”

“Sweet sugar plum? Where did that come from?”

“You don’t like it?” You ask, pouting slightly.

“I hate it.”

You turn your head to muffle your giggles against Jake’s shoulder.

“Y/N, you know I won’t leave you, right?” Jake asks in a soft tone.

“Hmm? Where did this come from, Jake?” You pull your head away from Jake’s shoulder to look at him.

“I was just thinking about what you told me on Saturday,” Jake admits. “I’m not gonna leave you, Y/N.”

“Even after our break up?” You don’t like how insecure you sound. “We’ll still be friends after our break up?”

Jake nods his head. “Of course.”

You smile, kissing Jake’s cheek. “Great. Let’s go skating now, Jakey, I need an excuse to hold your hand for a few hours.”

Jake lets you pull him up from the chair. “You could just ask to hold my hand, Y/N.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You reply, grinning eagerly.

—-

“Why are we carving pumpkins, again?” You ask your sister. It was Christmas Eve and you were sitting at the dining table with a large pumpkin parked in front of you. Your younger sister was sitting next to you, tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated on carving her pumpkin.

“Because you weren’t home for Halloween,” your sister responds, not taking her eyes off her pumpkin.

“Halloween was three months ago, Mye. It’s Christmas Eve, shouldn’t we be helping Mama in the kitchen?”

“We are!” Myeong refutes. “We’re making decorations!”

You throw Myeong a pointed look. “Carving pumpkins? For Christmas decorations?”

Myeong scowls. “No need to be such a grinch, Y/N. Sorry I missed carving pumpkins with you.”

You sigh and place down your scalp. “I missed carving pumpkins with you too, Myeong.”

Your younger sister turns to you, her eyes soft and wide. She reminds you of a baby deer. “Really?”

You nod your head and Myeong breaks out into a grin, throwing her arms around you and hugging you tightly. “It feels so lonely at home without you, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re back home for winter break.”

You hug your sister back tighter. “Me too. I missed you and Mama a lot. Especially her food. I mostly eat ramen and toast.”

Your sister giggles and draws out of the hug and starts to carve her pumpkin again. “What is college like, Y/N? Have you made any friends?’ Myeong wiggles her eyebrows, “Have you gotten a boyfriend?”

You snort. “A boyfriend?” You try to ignore your cheeks heating up. “Are you crazy, Myeong? I have no time for a boyfriend. I did make some friends, though.”

“Oh yes, that Wonyoung Jang girl?”

“How do you know about her?”

“You posted her on your Instagram story a couple of times, Y/N,” your sister deadpans, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, right. But yeah, Wonyoung’s my friend. And all her friends are my friends as well.” You don’t know why your chest swells with pride when you mention your friends. “I have a large friend group, Mye.”

Myeong smiles. She looks genuinely happy for you. “I’m glad, Y/N.”

You turn back to your pumpkin and continue to carve in silence. Your mother was in the kitchen, humming away to whatever song was on the radio as she baked some Christmas cookies. The warm cheer of Christmas wraps you up warmly. You were happy to be back home with your mother and sister, carving a pumpkin while your mother made cookies a few feet away. You were afraid leaving for college would change everything, but it had changed nothing.

“But, seriously Y/N,” Myeong breaks the silence, “you have had to at least kiss a guy at one of the parties you went to with Wonyoung!”

“Well, I did,” You drop your voice and lean in closer. “Lose my virginity.”

Myeong gasps loudly, your mother looking up from where she was placing cookie dough on a tray. “Everything okay, girls?”

“Yes,” you say, smiling. You look at Myeong who was staring at you, completely taken by surprise at your confession.

“Really?”

You nod your head.

“What was it like?”

You blush and bury your head in your hands. “Myeong -- why -- why would you ask me that?”

Myeong shrugs. “Curiosity.”

“It was fine,” you grumble. “It was just a hook-up, though, and I haven’t had sex since then.”

Myeong pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“No, I’m just choosing to be safe. College parties are swarming with STDs.” Your phone begins to ring loudly, cutting off your mother’s humming and Myeong’s words. You steal a glance at who was calling you -- Jake’s contact name fills your screen and you can’t control the large smile that graces your face.

“I’ll be back,” you tell Myeong. “I have to take this.” Grabbing your phone, you exit the dining room and start up the stairs to your room. “Hey,” you greet Jake, pressing your phone to your ear. “What’s up?”

“Y/N, hey,” Jake’s voice is soft as he talks. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good. What about you?”

Jake sighs. “Well, I would like to leave, but I promised my mom and dad that I would stay for their Christmas dinner and I like to keep my promises, so.” If Jake were standing in front of you now, he would end his sentence with a shrug. Instead, he punctuates this sentence with another sigh.

“That sucks,” you murmur, shutting your bedroom door, and resting against it. “What is so awful about this Christmas dinner anyway?”

“It’s not really a Christmas dinner,” Jake explains. “It’s a business dinner, under the guise of a company Christmas dinner. My dad’s investors bring their families to our house for this Christmas dinner, but all they do is talk business while their wives make small talk and the kids sit at the table and eat in silence. Jay used to come, but his father wised up and decided to go on vacation during Christmas, which upset my father for a few years.”

“That is awful.”

“But it’s only for one night,” Jake sounds defeated. “What about you? What do you do for Christmas?”

“Not a lot,” you tell Jake. And it was true -- your family didn’t do a lot for Christmas. You all woke up quite late on Christmas since you and Myeong were no longer kids and the thrill of opening presents was slowly wearing off. Your mother made some pancakes for breakfast, and then the three of you headed down to afternoon mass. You weren’t religious, but your mother liked going so you and your sister accompanied her. You know how often your mother used to pray back when you were younger and she was fighting tooth and nail to keep her family afloat.

After mass, you would stop by a few shops to just pick up extra miscellaneous items. Then your mother would begin Christmas dinner prep and your relatives from your mother’s side would start turning up as soon as it hits 4 PM. They usually stay as late as midnight.

“That sounds….a lot more fun than my Christmas,” Jake laughs softly.

“It is fun,” you reply, laying down on your bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you and Myeong stuck on your ceiling years ago. “After dessert, we all watch The Santa Clause trilogy.”

“I remember you telling me about that,” Jake hums. “I’ve never seen those movies, what are they about?”

“I don’t want to spoil anything, Jake,” you tease. “We’ll just have to watch them together at some point.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Y/N,” Jake’s tone was just as teasing. “I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before I called. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went insane inside this house.”

“Call me whenever Jake. I’ll always pick up.”

“Okay, I will. Talk later, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jake.”

—-

It was a little past eight when Jake calls you again. It’s Christmas, and you’re sitting at the dining table with your relatives. Dinner was served a couple of hours ago, but the conversation at the table was too good for anybody to think about cleaning up the mess displayed in front of you.

Your Uncle and Aunts were still helping themselves to the last bits of your mom’s lasagna. Dessert still had to be served, and your mother was looking for a way out of the conversation she was having with your grandmother.

Your phone cuts through the conversation you were having with your cousin.

“Who’s calling you, Y/N?” Your cousin, Lila, asks, trying to take a peek at your phone.

“Oh, it’s no one. I’ll be right back,” you sneak out of the dining hall and down to your bedroom. “Jake, hey.”

“Y/N, sorry if I disturbed you from your movie watching,” Jake greets.

“No, we’re still eating,” you assure Jake. “What’s up?”

“I-- I was wondering -- ah fuck, I don’t know how to ask this,” Jake admits.

“Just ask,” you encourage. “It’s okay, Jake. It’s just me.”

“Do you think I could come over? To your house?”

“Oh, Jake.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes. I’m sorry for asking, I just can’t be here. I just can’t do it. No one else would pick up. I’m sorry for asking, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Jake. And you’re more than welcome to come over. My mama feeds all my friends that set foot in this house. I’ll send you my address.” Your heart hurts for Jake. You can’t imagine how awful it must be for Jake to be in a house that doesn’t feel like home.

“Thank you, Y/N. Really.”

“Don’t mention it. Just arrive safely, ok? And text me when you’re leaving.”

“Okay. See you soon, Y/N.” The line goes dead before you can respond. You share your location with Jake, and pocket your phone, padding back downstairs to the dining room. Your mother had finally been able to leave the conversation with your grandmother and was now in the kitchen, dumping empty plates in the sink and fixing dessert onto fresh, clean, plates.

“Mama,” you step into the kitchen, keeping your voice low. “My friend from college is coming over. I hope that’s okay, he needed -- he needed to get away from his family for a while.”

“What’s his name?” Your mother asks, looking up from where she was plating the Christmas cookies she had made while you were carving the pumpkins.

“Jake Sim. He’s…my friend.”

“Jake Sim? Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations?”

You smile wanly. “They’re his parents, mama.”

“Then, he��s more than welcome inside my house, Y/N. I went to school with his parents, I know how tough they can be.” Your mother shakes her head. “They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”

“You knew them?” You ask, surprised.

“Of course, I know them, Y/N. Everyone knew everybody back then. Should I set out a plate for him at the table?”

You look at the already crowded table. Myeong laughs loudly with one of your aunts. “Do we even have room for another chair?”

“We can make room,” your mother answers with a sly smile. “Do you know if he’s had dinner yet? Because I don’t want to just serve him dessert while he’s here.”

“Uh, I’ll ask him when he gets here.” Your phone dings with a text. You had two unread texts, both from Jake. One was sent eight minutes ago, telling you he’s left. The most recent one was Jake telling you he’d just parked. You wonder how close Jake lived if he was only an eight-minute drive away.

“He’s here,” you tell your mom, just as there’s a knock at the door.

“Go answer, I’ll make some room.”

You nod your head and turn away, eyes widening as Myeong rises from her chair. “I’ll get it!” You shriek, dashing out of the kitchen and down to the door. You throw the door open and your eyes widen at the sight of Jake.

“Y/N, hey,” Jake grins.

“Jake -- your -- your hair.”

It was black. His hair was black. You struggle to organize your thoughts as your eyes drag down the rest of his body. Jake was clearly dressed up for some formal event. He was wearing blue jeans with a white buttoned-up blouse tucked in, accentuating his waist, and a navy blue blazer.

“Decided to go back to black,” Jake answers with a grin. “Maintaining my blonde hair was tiring.” He peers over your shoulder. “Can I come in? Or did your mother --”

You shush Jake and step onto the porch, letting the front door fall shut. “No, you’re welcome in. I just -- I told them we were friends. They don’t know we’re….y’know? It just -- it just gets tiring lying all the time, and I don’t like lying to my mama and Myeong and --”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off. “I think it’ll be nice to not have to act like we’re dating for once.”

“Okay,” you smile relieved. “My mama knew your parents in college.”

“Really?” Jake asks.

“Yeah, she was more than willing to let you spend Christmas with us.”

“I already love your mom.”

“Alright, come on in, Prince Charming. Ready to meet my family?”

Jake adjusts his blazer and you have to pretend like your heart didn’t speed up. “I was born ready,” and for the final kill, he runs a hand through his hair. You almost faint on the spot. Since when was Jake this attractive to you? I mean, obviously, he was handsome, but you’ve never felt your heart palpitate like this before.

You’ve never seen your family so still and silent the moment you step into their line of sight with Jake. “Is that your boyfriend, Y/N?” One of your cousins teases you, earning a couple of snickers from your other cousins.

“Uh, no. This is Jake Sim. He’s my -- my friend from college. His parents are overseas at the moment, so I invited him over for dinner. Sorry he’s late, you know how assessments get during winter break.”

“He’s very handsome, Y/N. Are you sure you’re just friends?” One of your aunts asks, out of pure curiosity.

You flush bright red. “Aunty!”

“It was just an innocent question, dear,” your uncle, and her husband, defends. “Come join us, Jake. Have you had dinner yet?”

Jake smiles politely, taking a seat in the new chair that was beside yours. You steal a glance at your mother who smiles back smugly. “I have had dinner,” Jake responds. “My mom bought me some samgyeopsal before she left.” He plays along with the cover story you made up for him.

“Oh no, samgyeopsal won’t do you any good, honey,” your mother cuts in. “Do you like lasagna?”

“I love lasagna,” Jake responds, his eyes twinkling.

Your mother hpmhs, “You should have some of my lasagna. My lasagna is the best lasagna in all of America.”

“Too bad Aunt Yeeun ate it all,” snickers your cousin, Daisy.

“Too bad, indeed,” your mother says, glaring at her older sister.

Yeeun pokes out her tongue in retaliation, and the whole table dissolves into laughter. You glance at Jake, who stares back and smiles, his foot nudging yours beneath the table. “It’s okay, Mrs. L/N. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Call me Areum, honey,” your mother says, flushing. “And are you sure? I’m sure I could find something that wasn’t eaten by my good-for-nothing siblings.”

Grumbles are heard but your mother pays no attention to them. “If I can’t find anything, then I’ll have to serve you dessert. Will you be okay with eating my Christmas cookies? They won Y/N’s middle school’s Christmas fair baking competition three years in a row. However, when Myeong brought them to the fair, they decided that darn Dana’s cookies were better. I’m pretty sure the judges were being biased. Or racist --”

“I’m hungry,” Myeong interrupts, whining. “Fuss over Jake later! Let’s go serve everyone dessert now!” Myeong leaps out of her chair, sending you a look, before tugging on Areum’s arm. “Come on, mama! Jake can decide for himself if he wants to eat or not.”

Your mother sighs. “Alright. I’ll be back with dessert.”

The table launches into conversations with your mother gone, bombarding Jake with questions to which he answers all with ease. Beside you, Lila nudges you. “Was he the one who called you?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.”

Lila smirks. “Just friends, huh?”

You groan and kick her shin beneath the table. “Shut the fuck up.”

—-

The rest of dinner is spent happily. Jake easily converses with your relatives, and it seems like he gets along well with all of them. You hate the way your heart flutters at that thought. As Jake had said, it was almost like he was born to please your relatives, based on the way they smile whenever Jake responds to them with great enthusiasm.

Even your younger cousins enjoy Jake’s presence. He distracts them as the adults clean up and get ready for the movie marathon with pictures of his dog, Layla. He also plays them a couple of videos which gets your entire family cooing over the dog.

You sit in the corner of the living room, with a slight frown on your face. The older cousins were all hanging out together, thankful someone else was willingly distracting the younger ones. “Why the frown, Y/N?” Myeon asks you, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” you answer, schooling your expression into a neutral one.

“Jake Sim, he’s the son of that one CEO, right? Sim Corporations, or something?” One of your cousins, Daniel, asks.

“Yeah,” you nod your head.

“Damn,” whistles Daniel, “through Jake, you basically have connections to the entire corporate world, Y/N.”

“Good thing I’m not a business major,” you retort.

“But I will be next year,” Daniel responds. “Do you think --”

“If you want to use Jakes’s connections, you have to get buddy-buddy with him, Daniel. I’m not your lapdog.”

Daniel huffs. “Fine, loser.”

You grip the armchair pillow and whack Daniel with it. “I’m not a loser, freak.”

“Alright,” your uncle claps his hands loudly, “let’s get this marathon on the road! Adults, help yourself to some eggnog, minors, there’s some soda and juices for you. And yes, Daniel, we got you your gross dill pickle chips.”

Chaos descends as everyone fights for the best seats, the best drinks, and the best snacks. You’re content with staying in the armchair in the corner of the living room. It didn’t really give you the best view of the television, but you’ve seen these movies hundreds of times. You could practically recite every line of all three movies by heart.

Jake approaches you, holding two glasses of cola.

“Hey,” Jake greets, handing you one glass. “I feel like we haven’t had time to talk.”

“It seems my family is smitten with you, Jake.”

“I do seem to have that effect on everyone I meet,” Jake hums in agreement.

“Come on, let’s cuddle,” you say, pulling Jake onto the chair. “Unless you want to move closer. I know you wanted to watch these movies.”

“It’s okay,” Jake waves you off, “there’s always another Christmas to watch them with you.”

You ignore how your heart explodes, painting your body a lovesick pink.

After a lot of adjustments, you end up with your back pressed against the arm of the armchair, and your legs thrown over Jake’s lap. The first fifteen minutes of the movie had already gone by by the time you and Jake pay attention and instead of trying to catch Jake up, you ask him about his own Christmas dinner.

Jake told you it was the same Christmas dinner he’d been going to for twenty years, but it was the first time his older brother wasn’t there and Jake couldn’t handle not having his brother around, so he left.

“Thank you for having me,” Jake whispers.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you respond.

“How could I not?” Jake’s eyes were wide, “You have a trusting face.”

“Oh, so you’re friends with me for my face?” You scowl.

Jake muffles his giggles. “Yes.”

You huff and look away from Jake to watch Scott and Carol lean in to kiss beneath a mistletoe.

“Y/N,” Jake whispers. “I like you for your face and your heart.”

“Really?”

Jake nods. “Really.”

“Well, I like you for your money and your connections to the corporate world.”

“You don’t even major in business!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Y/N,” Jake gives you a pointed look and you sigh.

“Fine. I don’t like you because of your money or your connections, I like you because of your face and your heart.”

“Would you ever want to get married?”

You stare at Jake, shocked by the sudden change of topic. “What? Where did this come from, Jake?”

“My parents brought up marriage when they talked about our relationship. They said we shouldn’t date if we aren’t thinking about marriage.”

“Well, I mean,” you sigh, “if you ask nicely, then I’ll probably say yes.”

It’s silent for a few moments before Jake coughs loudly. You get stares from your sister and a few of your cousins, but you ignore them. “You -- you would want to marry me?”

“I mean --” you blink, confused. “That’s what we were talking about, right?”

“I was -- I was just asking if you want to get married. In general. Not to me.”

“Oh.” Your face flushes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jake intertwines your hands together and squeezes three times. “You’re cute when you make mistakes.”

“Shut up,” you groan.

Jake laughs softly, his eyes shining with adoration.

—-

“Do you think I could stay the night?” Jake asks you after he finishes saying goodbye to all of your relatives. The goodbyes took longer than usual because everyone was clamoring to talk to Jake. You didn’t understand all the fuss over Jake.

“Stay -- stay the night?”

“Or not. It’s okay, Y/N.”

“No --”

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night, sweetheart,” your mother cuts. “You’ll just have to share a bed with Y/N, our guest room is a bit.. preoccupied. I’ve been cleaning out the attic.”

Jake looks over at you. “I’m okay with sharing a bed. Are you? If not, I can sleep on the floor or just go home.”

You eye your mom carefully. She’s never been this open and welcoming to a boy staying the night. In your bed. “Yeah…I’m fine with it.”

“Y/N and Jake sharing a bed!” Myeong sings in a teasing voice as she bounces up the stairs. “I’ll make sure to turn on my white noise!” Both you and Jake flush a deep red while your mother scolds Myeong for her words.

“I’ll go find you some clothes, Jake,” your mother smiles warmly at the boy beside you and disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with Jake.

“Won’t your parents be concerned about your whereabouts?” You ask Jake, leading him into the kitchen.

“I told them I was at Sunghoon’s,” Jake answers, leaning against the counter as you fill two glasses with water. He gratefully takes one of the glasses and drinks it all within seconds. “They won’t really be worried that much. They’ve never been the kind of parents to worry.”

You give Jake a gentle look and take the empty glass from him, rinsing it and making room for it in the dishwasher. “Your family is very fun,” Jake says, “they all…love each other.”

“I guess they’re fun. They can be a bit annoying and frustrating at times.”

“But you love them, though.”

“They loved you tonight, Jake.” You tell him, sensing the underlying tone of Jake’s words. You reach out to take his hand into yours as you stand at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re probably welcome to all family gatherings in the future.”

“Really?” Jake asks in slight disbelief.

“Would I lie to you, Jake? Everyone loved you tonight.”

In the darkness of the living room, standing in silence, you can feel Jake. Jake is all over you. You feel as though you’re one with Jake, and everything you think, Jake is also thinking. You feel and hear every inhale and exhale of Jake’s.

With his other hand, Jake cups your cheek, and you immediately sink into the feeling. “Y/N,” it’s like Jake is feeling the same as you. He doesn’t dare to raise his voice. “I --”

“Jake, would you like to take a shower?” Your mother stands at the top of the stairs.

You rip yourself away from Jake, clenching and unclenching your hand as your mind races. “Oh, yes, that would be nice, Areum.”

“I’ll go get you a towel,” Areum smiles and turns back around, heading for the linen closet.

Jake turns to you. “Y/N --”

“You should go take a shower, Jake.”

Jake hesitates.

“I’ll see you in my room.” You don’t think you’ll be able to handle talking to Jake alone for the rest of the night. You climb the stairs with speed, leaving Jake in the dust. Reaching your room, you pull out your phone and fire a text to Wonyoung, your heart speeding, finally realizing why yourheart races around Jake.

By the time Jake finishes his shower and stands in the doorway of your room, you’re changed and separating the bed in two halves with pillows you stole from your mom. “What are you doing?” Jake asks you, drying his hair with a yellow towel.

“When we’re sleeping, we need to stay to our sides. We can’t cross the pillow line,” you explain to Jake, slipping beneath the covers on your side.

“Why do we need halves all of a sudden?” Jake asks, throwing his towel over your desk chair. “We’ve never had halves like this when we’ve laid in bed together.”

Your face flushes. “That’s -- that’s different.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Is it?”

You scowl. “My house, my bedroom, my rules.”

Jake climbs into bed, making sure to keep to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Y/N.” Jake gives you a sweet smile that disarms you completely.

“Fuck it,” you groan. You grab the pillows -- that had taken a lot of time to set up -- and you throw them to the ground. “I do like to cuddle things when I sleep, Jake. And since I removed my plushies for you to fit, I guess you could be a good substitute.”

Jake grins with a glint in his eyes that tells you he doesn’t believe your bluff. He opens his arms and you immediately curl up to his chest, your ear pressed to his chest, and there, you can hear his heartbeat. It’s beating rapidly and you allow your delusions to take over.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jake says, his voice close to your ear.

“Goodnight, Jake,” you mumble back.

—-

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask Jake nervously as you sit in his car. A week after winter break ended, Jake had told you his parents wanted to meet you, and no matter how desperately you wanted to say no, you agreed to join Jake for dinner this weekend. You’re parked outside his parents’ house. It’s tall, and spiraling, and reminds you just how rich Jake was. You’re fretting over your look as if Jake hasn’t already complimented you a thousand times tonight. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” And, as always, Jake’s words of affection make you blush.

“Alright,” you say, “let’s do this.”

Jake nods and squeezes your hand before letting go.

“Remember,” Jake says in a low voice as you walk up to the front door, gravel crunching beneath the uncomfortable high-heels Wonyoung shoved you into, “we can leave. Whenever you want. We don’t have to stick around for the entire night, I’ll make up an excuse if you want to leave, okay?”

You kiss Jake’s cheek in lieu of a response.

Jake doesn’t bother to knock on the door, he just pushes it open. A multitude of shoes sit in the foyer, and you turn to Jake who is helping you take off your coat. “How big is this family dinner, exactly?”

Jake gives you a sheepish smile. “My parents, uncles and aunts, and cousins. I don’t know if Jaehyun will be here though.”

You can’t help but feel sorely underprepared for this. Why didn’t Jake let you know beforehand that you would be meeting his entire family? Your stomach rolls over at the thought, and you feel nausea wash over you. An uncomfortable itch appears in your throat -- no cough or clearing of a throat removes that itch as you walk from the foyer to the dining room where your demise awaits.

“You didn’t think to tell me?” You mumble to Jake, half anxious, half annoyed.

“It slipped my mind,” Jake murmurs back and you withhold a scoff.

You can’t help but feel intimidated as you enter the dining hall, gripping Jake’s hand tightly. His aunts, uncles, cousins, and parents mill about the room, talking and laughing forcefully with each other. The atmosphere doesn’t at all feel comfortable. It’s a weird atmosphere, it feels tense and taut.

Hyunjae is the first to spot Jake. He breaks out into a grin and approaches Jake, a girl with dyed red hair follows behind, her eyes glued to her phone as she frowns. Next to you, Jake inhales sharply and his shoulders roll back like he’s prepared for an attack.

“Jake,” Hyunjae greets, the smile not slipping from his face. He looks at you and his smile only grows. “Y/N. What a pleasure to see you both here.”

“The same can’t be said for you,” Jake responds, his voice tight.

The red-headed girl finally looks up, pocketing her phone and taking a sip of her champagne. “Jake,” her voice is soft, tinkling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen more perfect eyes, nose, and mouth on someone before. “Who are you?” She asks, out of pure curiosity. Her eyes shine and you try to search for some kind of double meaning.

“Y/N L/N,” you answer, feeling your heart tremble beneath the eyes pinned to your face. “Who are you?”

The girl laughs. It’s high and tinkling, like her voice. “I’m Francesa Choi, nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Jake’s ex-girlfriend.

“Jaeyun?” A voice calls out. You watch as an intimidating woman walks over to the group. Her eyes are piercing, and her hair is black as the night. It doesn’t take much for you to realize this woman is Jake’s mother. Lagging behind her is Jake’s father. Pepper hair, creased lines on his forehead, and a frown. You wonder how Jake is able to be who he is with parents like these.

“This must be the Y/N you talk highly of,” her eyes darted to you, and then back at Jake, like you weren’t worth her time. You try to pry your hand from Jake’s, but he only tightens his grip further. You're sure he’s cutting off blood to your hand.

Jake’s father watches you silently. He doesn’t say anything, remaining behind his wife as she does all the talking; all the commanding.

“Are you going to introduce us to her?”

Jake clears his throat. “Mom, Dad, this is Y/N L/N, Y/N, this is my mom and dad.”

Your mother’s words echo around your head. “Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations? I know how tough they can be. They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”

Jake’s mother -- Hana -- gives you a short nod. “Nice to meet you, Y/N, I hope I get to know you well tonight.”

Not I hope we get to know each other well. You learn something about Hana Sim very early on. She’s the authorization figure of the Sim household. She expects you to tell her everything about you, and you get nothing in return.

Dinner is served, and with Jake to your left and his ex-girlfriend to your right, your nerves skyrocket. Jake’s ex-girlfriend is pretty -- she even smells pretty. No wonder Jake dated her. As the conversation is passed around the table, you also learn Francesa Choi is smart. She’s pretty, smart, and confident. It’s clear, by the way Hana praises and smiles at Francesa, that she’s thoroughly beguiled by the girl.

When Hana Sims speaks to you, though, it’s dull. Hana appears to look bored as she decides to make conversation with you, and for the first time that night, the table falls silent. Every Sim wants to know about you, apparently.

“How did you meet my son, Y/N?” Hana asks, picking up her wine glass.

“I told you how we met --”

“I want to hear her talk, Jaeyun,” Hana cuts off her son.

“We meet at a party,” you respond, hands curling on your lap beneath the table. Your nails dig into your palms to keep you grounded. “It was love at first sight.”

Any normal family would coo over love at first sight, but the Sim family only shares looks. Looks that are clearly laced with judgment. Beside you, Jake offers no help. He doesn’t even reach out to rest his hand on your thigh. You feel alone.

“Love at first sight?” Hana muses. “So, you love my son?”

It takes a lot of effort for you to breathe. Your chest feels heavy like there’s something crushing it. You steal a glance at Jake and he doesn’t look back, content with admiring his plate of food in front of him. Your heart pangs.

“Yes,” you say, willing the nerves out of your voice. “I love Jake.”

Hana doesn’t look impressed. “You’ve only been dating for a month.” That’s not a question -- it’s a statement. “How could you fall in love that fast?”

“He’s easy to love,” your response is almost instantaneous, your mouth working faster than your brain. Your response is honest. In a way. And that shocks and scares you.

Hana still doesn’t look impressed. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Y/N. What’s your major?”

“I’m Majoring in Linguistics. This is my first year.” Your nails dig deeper into your palms and Jake continues to offer no support.

“So you’re…eighteen? Nineteen?”

“Eighteen.”

Hana nods, reaching for her wine glass and taking a sip. The silence is suffocating. Just how nosey and judgmental was the Sim family?

“And your family?” Hana asks, “Any siblings?”

“I have a younger sister, Myeong.”

“And your parents?”

“My dad passed away when I was three, so it’s just been my mom, me, and Myeong for as long as I can remember.”

Hana’s eyes narrow. You gulp and your heart hammers away in your chest. You feel a bad omen circling the air. Whatever is said next will either be your downfall or finally impress Hana.

“Did your mom ever get remarried?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Words tumble out of Hana’s mouth, and it sounds like Korean. The ground gives out beneath your feet and your heart drops out of your body. You don’t know Korean. Your mother never had the time to teach you, and she slowly lost her mother tongue. Your father died when you were young. You grew up feeling isolated, not really understanding where you fit in; you were Korean, but you didn’t speak Korean, and you’ve never been to Korea. But you had an American citizenship, so you were American, except you didn’t look American.

“I -- I don’t know Korean,” the words tumble out of your mouth -- the words were the bad omen you felt in the air moments ago.

If possible, the silence is louder than before.

“You’re Korean,” Hana states, her voice a foreign emotion.

“My mom and dad were first-generation immigrants,” you answer, your nails beginning to cut into your palm. “But my dad died before he could teach me, and my mom was always busy with work.”

“Have you ever visited Korea?”

“No,” you respond, Hana’s eyes cutting into your bones.

“I pity you,” Hana says, her words sharp like claws. Her eyes dart to Jake, and this time her words sting. “I thought I taught you better.”

Jake’s silence stings even more.

You were able to excuse yourself to the bathroom after dinner. You grip the edge of the sink and squeeze your eyes shut tightly, suddenly longing for the embrace of your mother. Hana’s words, her eyes -- her everything has you a shuddering mess. Who knew someone could make simple words sound so cruel?

The door swings open and Francesa steps in. She smiles and steps up to the sink next to you, pulling out some lip glass from her handbag. You watch her as she applies another layer onto her lips.

“That was a hard conversation to listen to,” Francesa says, her eyes meeting yours through the mirror.

“Yeah,” you mumble, not really in the mood to talk.

“It takes a lot to impress Hana.”

“Clearly.”

Francesa pats your shoulder. “I’m sure you will find something to impress Hana with.” You don’t know why but it sounds so condescending. “But I’m not surprised to see Jake hasn’t changed.” Francesa laughs to herself, finding something funny.

“What are you laughing about?” You ask Francesa.

“When we were dating, I was exactly like you when meeting his family. He threw you in the deep end, didn’t he? Told you were meeting his parents, but actually took you to a family dinner? And when his mother was grilling me, he was silent -- just like tonight.” Francesa sighs, turning to you. “He doesn’t have the guts to talk back to his parents. His older brother did, and that’s why he’s not at family dinners anymore.”

“I just..” Francesa trails off. “I just hoped tonight would be different, you know? You and Jake…you guys look happy and in love and I just thought that this would be the night where Jake finally speaks up and does something about the way his mother treats people.”

Francesa shakes her head, giving you a small smile. “It’s a shame your love couldn’t change that.”

“Why would I need to change Jake?” You ask, frowning.

“Oh, Y/N.” Francesa sighs. “Whenever I would come for a family dinner, Jake would sit in silence and let Hana pick at me, probing me to reveal personal secrets and shame me for them. She wanted to mold me into the perfect wife for Jake. Whatever flaw I had, Hana would take it and cut it up into a thousand more flaws, throw it back at me, and tell me I had to fix them all or else I would never be good enough for her son. Dating Jake made me hate myself, and him, so we broke up.”

“You cheated on him, though.”

“I did,” Francesa agrees easily.

“Why?”

“Hyunjae’s nothing like Jake.”

The drive home is silent. Jake attempts to speak, but after his fifth try, he stops. Your mind was a mess, recounting Hana’s sharp words, and Francesa’s story. Everything was a mess and you felt as if you never really knew Jake.

“Y/N,” Jake tries again.

You’re sitting in his car, outside your dorm. You don’t move to leave the car. You should probably confront the tense air before it gets worse the longer you continue to ignore it. You turn to Jake, trying to keep your emotions under lock.

“Jake,” you respond. “I think we need some space. Just for a few days.”

Jake looks confused. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice is filled with rage you didn’t know you had. Watching Jake shift away, regret fills you. “Sorry, Jake. Sorry.” You look away, out the front window, and this time the tears come without warning. When you look back at Jake, you’re crying silently, the hurt inflicted by Hana filling up the space where your heart used to sit.

“If you can’t tell your mother to shut the fuck up and stop prying into my personal life, then we can’t be friends, Jake. Your silence really hurt me tonight.”

Jake’s mouth opens and closes. He doesn’t know what to say, and for some reason, that hurts you.

“You didn’t -- you didn’t even offer support, like a hand on my thigh, or a hand to hold. You left me -- you left me alone tonight, Jake.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake says, but he doesn’t even look like he means it. He’s still confused.

“Just -- just don’t talk to me for a couple of days. Unless we need to act like a couple for some stupid event.”

“Y/N --”

You smile sadly at Jake. “Jake, you’re meant to be in love with me. Your silence at dinner told a different story.”

You climb out of the car, close the passenger door, and walk away from Jake.

—-

Three days. You haven’t spoken to Jake in three days. You’ve kept yourself distracted by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends and actually completing your assignments before the deadline, and handing them in once the submissions open.

Deciding to give yourself a break, you take this chance to check your phone. Youngeun had sent you something on Instagram, and so you pause the game you were playing with Rei and check Youngeun’s messages. She had sent you someone’s story. Clicking on it, you watch the story and your stomach turns over. It was Jake with Francesa.

Normally, you aren’t one for presumptions and letting miscommunication get in between your relationships with those close to you, but when it comes to Jake, you can’t help but get insecure. He’s rich, he’s popular, he’s handsome. He can have anyone he wants, and yet there you were, faking dating him. And yet, there you were, falling in love with him.

Love. That word strikes you across your face. Love. Since when were you in love with Jake?

You recall the sudden development you felt over Winter break; you like Jake. And not in a fake way. You truly like Jake and it’s messing with your brain. You can’t handle Jake’s gentle touches and kind words, and you can’t handle his kisses and flirtatious remarks. This fake relationship is driving you insane and soon you feel like you’ll snap. You fear what the consequences would be when that day comes. 

But when did love come into play?

The overwhelming emotions of love and like terrorize you. You click off the story where Francesa and Jake were sharing giggles and you leave Youngeun on seen. Nausea washes over you. Maybe this temporary space needs to be a permanent space.

You excuse yourself from your group of friends and walk back to your dorm. The chilly wind whips through the air and seeps through your hoodie, chilling you to the bone. Maybe you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, maybe you need to give Jake the chance to explain himself. Maybe you were just overreacting. Yes, Jake had let his mother embarrass you in front of his relatives, but that shouldn’t define who he is as a person. Right? Yes, Jake was hanging out with his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him, but nothing is happening between them. Right?

Your head begins to spin.

You stumble into the dorm and crash into Ricky. “Y/N!” The platinum blond exclaims, “I was just looking for you. Someone is here to see you.”

Immediately, you think of Jake. Has Jake finally realized what he did wrong three nights ago? Has Jake realized he loves you the way you love him? “Really?”

Ricky nods his head. “They’re in the common space.”

“Thanks Ricky,” you brush past the boy and with eager footsteps, you step into the common space -- only to falter.

Jake’s mother stands in the center of the room. Your heart stops and your breath catches.

“Mrs. Sim?”

The raven-haired woman turns at the sound of you calling her. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Y/N,” she steps over to you. “Nice to see you again.” You knew these were false pleasantries. “How is college going?”

“It’s going well,” you respond stiffly. “Jake isn’t with me.”

Mrs. Sim chuckles. “Oh, I’m not here for my son.” Her eyes pin you to the spot. “I’m here to see you, Y/N. I value my son’s partners highly, and I think we should have a talk.” She gestures to the couch behind you. “Shall we sit?”

Hesitantly, you sit on the couch. Mrs. Sim relaxes in the spot next to you, and she pulls a white envelope out of her handbag and passes it over to you. “Y/N, I’ll be honest. I don’t think you’re right for my son.”

“What?” You draw your eyes away from the white envelope you were holding. “I’m not…right?”

“Korean heritage is valued highly in our family --”

“I’m Korean, Mrs. Sim.”

“But you cannot speak Korean.”

“But I can learn!” You refute.

Mrs. Sim raises her hand, silencing you. “There is more, of course. I just simply don’t think you and Jake will last. I am only saving you from heartbreak.”

“Mrs. Sim, I’m sorry but you don’t get to --”

“You feel as though you don’t belong in Jake’s world, Y/N. Am I correct?” Mrs. Sim’s eyes are narrowed as she addresses you, her voice one that commands to be listened to.

That is something you can’t refute. It’s something that had been bubbling up within you ever since that dinner -- ever since you realized just how rich Jake was. He lived and existed in a higher society you will never understand. In a society you can only dream of existing within. You don’t get the rules, and you don’t understand how to present yourself in that rich society Jake is ingrained in. You feel so out of place, and you’ve only attended a family dinner.

“With time, I think I can feel comfortable --”

“Y/N. You are not fit for my son. You should break up with him.”

You scoff. “What makes you think I would break up with Jake? I love him.”

Mrs. Sim sighs. “But does he love you? At dinner, it didn’t seem like he did. My son was more than happy to let you embarrass yourself.”

“Embarrass myself? That was -- that was your fault--”

“In that envelope is money. You should open it.”

You open it. It’s a check. Your eyes widen at the amount of money scrolled on the check. “What--what’s this for?”

“Break up with Jake and that money is yours.”

“I don’t -- I don’t want your money.” You throw the envelope on the ground. “I’m not cheap, Mrs. Sim.”

Mrs. Sim stands from the couch and brushes off her dress. “I have said what I wanted to say. I can only hope you listen to me, Y/N, and realize that you will never be the one for Jake, no matter what he says, or what you tell yourself.”

“Jake is his own person. He is twenty. He can make decisions for himself. Why are you still controlling him?”

Mrs. Sim glances over her shoulder. “My son is still green when it comes to the world. He does not know what is best for him because I sheltered him from the real world growing up.”

“He can make decisions for himself,” you repeat.

Mrs. Sim walks away.

A few hours later, with help of Wonyoung’s stalking skills and social connections, you find yourself back on Greek Row, and outside a frat house that was famous across campus because of their end-of-exams parties. Jake was at this party tonight with the rest of Enhypen.

Wonyoung was already chatting up some older college student and you head inside the frat yourself. It was already packed, horny and sweaty bodies pushing up against each other, and the smell of weed hangs suspended in the air. You start looking for Jake, and you immediately head for the back porch. You don’t find Jake there, however you find Sunghoon and Heeseung setting up a new game of beer pong. “Sunghoon! Heeseung!” You call out, rushing toward them. “Where’s Jake?”

Sunghoon beams at you. “Y/N! Hey! Jake took Sunoo to the bathroom. He’s wasted.”

“Awesome! Thanks!” You dash back into the house and climb the stairs, hoping there was a bathroom on the second floor of this frat. Pushing open every door, you only find bedrooms with two, or three people, making out on the beds. With apology after apology, your search for Jake and Sunoo and a bathroom is futile.

Then, a door at the end of the hall opens and out spills Jake and Sunoo. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s in excitement or nervousness for what’s about to happen. “Jake!” You shout.

Jake perks up hearing your voice, and his lips break out into a massive grin. He abandons Sunoo’s side and rushes up to you, wrapping you in a warm hug. He sloppily kisses your cheek. “Y/N!” He was tipsy. “I missed you so much.” He holds you tighter and nuzzles his face in your neck.

This was going to be hard.

“Jake,” you say softly. “We need to talk.”

—-

You and Jake were sitting at a bus shelter near the frat house throwing the party. Your leg shakes as you work up the courage to end the fake relationship you have with Jake. You don’t know why you were hesitating all of a sudden. Why were you afraid of ending this relationship with Jake?

“Jake,” you start softly. “I think -- I think.” You inhale. You can do this. You can spit it out. “I think we should end the fake relationship.”

“Huh?” Jake tilts his head to the side. He really is a puppy.

“Jake. We need to break up. Or whatever.”

Jake’s eyes widen. “Break up? Why?”

This was the hard part. You’ve never dated someone so you’ve never experienced a break up before. How were you supposed to do this? How were you supposed to tell Jake to never contact you again because you don't fit in his world? You don’t fit beside him?

“I’m calling this whole agreement off,” you rephrase. You aren’t sure if this is an actual break up if you were never in a real relationship in the first place.

“Why?” Jake asks, and he looks sober. “We don’t have that much longer left.”

“I just feel like I did what you needed me to do. I stayed your girlfriend long enough to meet your parents. Now, it just feels pointless to keep this whole agreement going. I’ll transfer you back the money, and you can stop driving me around everywhere.”

“Y/N,” Jake says gently. He reaches for your hand and you retract it, dismissing the hurt on his face.

The thing about love; you don’t understand it. You’ve never understood love because you’ve never been in love. It’s confusing and tricky. Why does your heart beat a certain way around Jake, and not anybody else? You love your friends, sure, but it’s a different love to the one you feel with Jake. Love is weird, and confusing, and tricky, and unforgiving. You feel naive at the hands of love because it makes everything you thought you understood, more complex and hard to understand.

You used to know the difference between like and love and now you’re not so sure anymore.

You used to find love confusing, but now it’s complex with more instructions written in the fine print you never read in the first place. When your heart begins to beat a different tune, everything in you changes; how you behave, how you talk, how you dress, and how you look. Love changes you. For better or for worse.

“Jake, I don’t think we should stay friends after,” you admit, standing from the seat. The lamplight next to the bus shelter flickers slightly. A strong wind picks up and whips your hair into your face. Jake doesn’t move an inch, hurt and confusion plastered all over his face. “We’re two different people from two different families. We would’ve never worked out, no matter how badly I wanted this to be real.” The confession slips from your lips without a warning.

Jake looks anguished and he tries to reach for you again. You take a step back and the wind blows more harshly, rattling the bus shelter. “Jake. I don’t fit in with you. Or your family. I don’t fit in the world you’re living in.”

Jake tries to interrupt but you don’t let him. “It hurt me that night, when you offered no support, when you barraged me with your family dinner. I was underprepared, Jake, and I was left humiliated as your mother ripped my life apart in front of your relatives who I really wanted to impress no matter if they don’t hold value in your life.”

“Jake, I really, really like you.” You don’t understand the difference between like and love. Maybe you never will. Maybe you just really like Jake. “But we’d never work if this became real because right now, it’s fake, and I feel…” You shrug, unable to form a coherent sentence. “It’s just messing with me. And the dinner --”

“It was my mom, Y/N,” Jake interrupts, finally finding his voice. “You know how she is.”

“She’s manipulative and controlling. You told me yourself Jake,” you shoot back. “And I’m not looking for a fight Jake, I just think it’s time you actually put actions to your words. She shouldn’t still control your life. You’re twenty. Not sixteen.”

“Y/N --”

“Your mother humiliated me, Jake. She made me feel stupid for not knowing Korean.” Tears well in your eyes. “And you know what’s even stupider? She didn’t even believe for a second that you loved me. Your silence really spoke a thousand words, Jake. And not just for me.”

Jake sighs and glances away and towards the party that was happening behind him. “Is this because of the Instagram story Fran posted of us?”

You shake your head, bitterness spilling across your tongue. “No. I know you don’t like her like that, Jake. I mean, for a moment I was jealous but then I remembered she cheated on you and I know you’re better than that, Jake. And then I remembered, you didn’t tell me what ‘family dinner’ actually meant, and then you let your mother humiliate me in front of, pretty much, your entire family, and you’re still acting like you did nothing wrong when all I wanted was your support. Is that too much to ask for? I really tried to sell this relationship, Jake, but your mother saw right through us because of your silence.”

Jake drops his head, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You huff and the first tear drops. “Your family is really shitty, Jake.”

“I know.” 

“And you can be better than them.”

“I know.” 

“I really wished I didn’t feel so alone during that dinner.” 

Jake raises his head. He looks pitiful. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

“Don’t contact me, Jake, we’re done.” 

Jake physically recoils at your words. “Y/N --” 

“I hope I’m able to get over you, Jake. I really hope I am.” You step away from Jake, and above you, lightning crackles through the sky. “I had a nice time with you, Jake.” 

Jake lets you go as thunder booms overhead. 

—-

“Do you think I was overreacting?” You ask Wonyoung as you lie on your bed. It’s been a week since you last saw or heard from Jake and as much as you wish you didn’t, all you could think about was Jake. How stupid, immature, and hypocritical of you. “Maybe I was. Maybe it wasn’t that deep.” 

Wonyoung hums. “No. I think you did good. You know what you want in a relationship, Y/N. You want someone who can stand up for you against his parents. Your reaction was valid.” 

You roll over in your bed and face Wonyoung who was probably texting Sunghoon as she lay on her own bed across from you. “I miss him,” you admit softly and then promptly shove your face in your pillow to scream. “But I hate him for what he did -- but I really really miss him.” 

“You liked him a lot, Y/N,” Wonyoung says gently. “Of course you’ll miss him.” 

You roll onto your back again and stare at the ceiling. “He was nice to me. And kind. And thoughtful, and he was funny and charming and so polite and he made me feel warm and safe and comfortable and --” You look at Wonyoung who was smiling at you, her phone discarded. “I think I almost fell in love with him.” 

“I think he almost fell in love with you too,” Wonyoung says. 

You shake your head. “I don’t know about that.” 

Wonyoung checks the time on her phone and gasps, leaping off her bed. “Fuck. It’s so late. I need to get going for my lecture. Do you want me to buy anything when I’m walking back?”

“Chocolate milk?” You ask Wonyoung. “I think I need chocolate milk.” 

Wonyoung smiles and pats your shoulder. “Of course.” 

You lie in bed for the rest of the day, thinking over your relationship with Jake. You hate to admit it, but to you, for the most part, the relationship felt real -- especially when Jake joined your family during Christmas. Nothing felt more real than you curled up on Jake’s lap, sharing laughter and trading jokes. 

“Hey Wonyoung,” you ask a few hours later, after she’s returned with your chocolate milk. (The bottle is now empty as it lies at the foot of your bed.) “Do you think I was a bit too naive in the relationship? Sure, we’re only two years apart, but our maturity is probably ten years apart. Was I asking for too much?”

Wonyoung shakes her head. “You weren’t asking for too much. Jake was just giving too little. He wasn’t providing you with the emotional support a relationship needs.” 

“But when we were alone,” you say quietly, “he did. He comforted me. He told me reassuring words and made me feel wanted. I don’t know why he did what he did at dinner. Clearly that’s a can I’ll never have the privilege of popping open or asking about.” Sighing, you squeeze your stuffed toy dog closer to your chest. “But I do think I was naive. I fell too fast for Jake. I am only eighteen, after all.” 

“You fell first but he fell harder,” Wonyoung says. 

“You think so?”

“I know so.” 

You shut your eyes and sigh again. “When I think of Jake, I think of him spending Christmas with me and my family. He’s just…so happy. So fucking happy. And it makes me feel happy. See? I fell too fast, and too deep, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him.” 

Wonyoung laughs softly. “And why do you think he felt happy, Y/N?”

A light blush tints your cheeks. “I like to imagine he felt happy because he was with me.”

—-

Exam season creeps up on you fast, and to deal with your stress you start going out on runs -- like right now. With loud Olivia Rodrigo blasting through your airpods, you jog down the sidewalk of a quiet suburban street. Since summer is near, the sun burns brighter and sweat easily soaks you. 

On this run, you bump into Riki. 

“Riki!” You exclaim in surprise when you spot the familiar boy walking towards the nearby park that houses a baseball diamond. He’s carrying his overstuffed baseball bag and has headphones on, but at the sound of your voice, he whirls around and tugs them off. 

“Y/N,” he responds, his voice smooth and neutral. “Wanna play baseball?”

So, you find yourself pitching to Riki and retrieving the balls he hits out into the field, deja vu washing over you. He doesn’t speak to you until the end. Concern that you’ve angered him washes over you as you watch him take a long sip of water from his water bottle. 

“I’m not mad at you,” Riki says, wiping his forehead with a towel. “So can you stop looking at me like that?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, blushing. 

“If anything, I’m glad you broke up with Jake.”

You gape at the younger boy and watch him back up his stuff. “What?” 

“He needed this wake up call. He has so much personal shit going on in his life that he never had the balls to face, and I guess whatever you said to him when you broke up with him really slapped him awake. I’ve never seen Jake this happy, or appear this light, y’know? Like before, it felt like he was dragging this dead weight around with him but ever since he cut off his family and dealt with personal issues, it’s like that dead weight is gone.” Riki harshly shoves his baseball glove into his overflowing bag. 

“I mean, you know Jake is emotionally constipated in a way.” 

You snort. “Ain’t that the truth. We would only brush the surface level of his…childhood trauma. He would tell me measly things -- like how his parents never had time for him, and how his mother was extremely controlling and his father was demanding, but that’s all. We never, like, actually talked about his feelings.” 

Riki nods his head, picking up his bat and swinging it through the air. “Jake’s actually talking about his feelings now, by the way. He’s been talking to his brother more recently and finally caved into Jay’s nagging and booked a therapy appointment.” 

“Oh wow,” your eyes widened. “Therapy?” 

Riki nods his head. “He wants to get better.” The look Riki gives you says everything. 

Running back home, your steps feel lighter. You’re able to study with a clear mind and when you exit the exam halls you feel as if you just aced all those tests. You don’t know why, but knowing that Jake is working towards a better self, makes you feel happy. You’re glad Jake is working on himself, and has support all around him. You feel the urge to reach out to him, but you fight it away by keeping yourself occupied by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends. 

You occasionally run into Riki and Heeseung while out on your runs. They keep you updated on Jake, letting you know how he’s doing and what he’s doing. It’s nice to still be in touch with Jake’s friends, it’s nice to see that they don’t resent you for breaking up with Jake. Jay reaches out to you once, inviting you to his birthday party. You turn down the invitation and Jay says he understands. Then, he thanks you for taking care of Jake. 

Your pride holds you back from unblocking Jake on Instagram so you create a burner account solely to keep yourself updated on Jake’s whereabouts during summer break. He takes Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki back to Milan, Italy where they shop at Prada, eat tons of pasta and pizza, and get drunk on Italian wine. Based on the stories they post, the Milan trip was quite eventful. 

The start of your second year approaches quickly and you still haven’t reached out to Jake yet. You’ve unblocked his number and drafted up a few text messages asking Jake if he wants to talk, or meet up, but you’ve never had the guts to send them. You’re afraid of the outcome, you’re afraid of finding out that Jake never wants to see you again, but you’d understand if Jake requests that. 

It’s the last day before you move back into the dormitory. You’re lounging on the couch with Myeong who is watching Crazy Rich Asians while she paints her toes. You’re laser focused on your phone, struggling to come up with a text to send to Jake. You really want to see him again. 

Someone knocks on your door.

“I’ll get it,” you tell Myeong, gladly distracting yourself from the daunting task you assigned yourself. Dressed in old, short, denim shorts, and a ratty old t-shirt that boasts Disneyland’s 50th Anniversary, you open the door. “Hi--” 

Jake stands on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of red roses. His hair is slicked back. He’s wearing a white blouse that’s been paired with black slacks. He looks breathtaking. Literally. You can’t breathe. 

“Y/N,” Jake smiles gently, and holds out the bouquet for you to take. “You look beautiful.” 

You snort, still unable to move. 

“Don't leave me hanging, Y/N,” Jake says. 

“What are you doing here, Jake?” You finally find your voice, and your arm reaches out to take hold of the rose bouquet. 

“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Jake admits. “And a lot of that thinking has been about you.” 

You stare at Jake, wide-eyed, and if you were able to see yourself, there’s probably stars in your eyes. You grip the rose bouquet tighter. “You’ve been thinking? About me?” 

Jake nods his head. “About you. And our time together. And I realized that if we had spent more time together, I would have fallen in love with you.” 

You feel faint. “Oh, wow.” Your mouth feels dry, and it’s hard to breathe. 

“You’re very lovable, Y/N,” Jake’s smile is just as bright as the sun, and his eyes hold galaxies that are far prettier than the one you’re existing in. “And I’m sorry for making you feel alone. Friends or dating, I should never let someone feel like that. I’m sorry for not standing up for you.” 

“It’s okay, Jake,” you laugh off the insanity you’re feeling. “I���m over it. Really.” 

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Y/N.”

You smile softly, raising the roses to your nose. “It’s okay, Jake.” 

Jake nods his head. “Alright. Cool. I’m -- I’m glad.” He looks up at the sky, with tense shoulders, and closes his eyes. He looks unsure of himself and you let out a small, amused giggle. Jake glances back at you, and everything in him relaxes. He inhales deeply. “So, I was wondering, Y/N, if you’d like to go out with me. Tonight. On a real date.” 

It’s silent for a long time. 

“You can say no --”

“You’re a very hard person to get over, Jake,” you admit. 

“I am?”

You nod your head. “I think it’s stupid how you still occupy my heart.” 

“It’s stupid?”

You smile. “Very stupid. But that’s okay, because it makes me stupidly in love with you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes. Myeong’s watching Crazy Rich Asians, so you can keep her company while I get changed and --”

Jake cuts you off with a kiss. His lips are warm against yours. When he draws away, his eyes are like molten honey. It’s like he’s melting right in front of you, love oozing from every inch of skin that you can see. “Sorry,” Jake flushes. “I couldn’t help myself. You look really cute, Y/N.” 

You draw Jake back in for another kiss. 

[rayroseu]

I have this theory that Prince Levan and Yuu are similar.

Don't you think their traits so far matches? Kind, patient, able to traverse through adversities (for now its just raging Draconias lol), aspires to resolve conflicts between oppositions, doesn't possess any bias (maybe because they prefer peaceful options).

There is also a scene that matched well with what we know of Prince Levan with Yuu --

• Prince Levan dealing with Malenoa's tantrum safely -> Yuu telling Malleus to calm down and Malleus actually listening (during their trip kn GloMas)

• Prince Levan manages the foreign affairs of Land of Briar, he is negotiating to stop ravaging their land -> Yuu is assigned as the Prefect of NRC, they deal with the trouble ensuing in every dorm and striving to make its members work together.

• Prince Levan is Malenoa's informant and seems to be on the frontlines while Malenoa's the strategist -> Yuu is always tasked as the record keepers or watcher of events (even in main story) by Crowley, and sometimes if there's actual trouble, Yuu tells Crowley about it, providing Crowley some stand-in in dealing with NRC troubles rather than himself.

• If we assume that all Draconias are similar, perhaps its safe to assume that Malenoa was also interested with Levan because he treated her normally (because like Malleus she was also revered too much and didnt experience much normality).

It mirrors similarly to the dynamic of Malleus and Yuu in the present, how Yuu is not afraid of him and in turn, makes Malleus feel like a normal person.

• Lilia mentions him, Malenoa, and Levan are childhood friends. So, it means that Levan and Malenoa probably met when they were children. Malleus is only 178 out of 1000 years adult age, Lilia stated him as a child. Plus, if we refer to the past ages of official Yuu's (Yuuken and Yuuka are 17), they are children -growing up as well. (At least I think so-- 17 is really young for me lol) Anyways, we see that Malleus and Yuu got to know each other in their developing years or something--

• This is kind of a theory but Levan and Yuu have the traits of a beasttamer- Lilia states that Draconias are montrous (but they're still faes.) Yuu was dubbed as beasttamer by Crowley because of how they took care of Grim. Grim is a monster. And, both Yuu and Levan, like stated before, deals with "their monster's rages."

• Both Malleus and Malenoa seems to get attracted by Levan and Yuu because of their compassion to them. (Malenoa views Levan as "he's the only one she can depend on" and he cooked for her so we can believe that Levan was kind to Malenoa.) In contrast, Draconias are always seen as "ruthless villains" "cruel" and "terrifying."

• As the game repeatedly tells us, Draconias exceeds so much from the average. They are seemingly evil, powerful and ruthless to people, even when Malleus was raised by Lilia to be "a gentle fairy" he struggles still. And, because of the normality/kindness of Yuu and Levan, that they are most interesting to Draconias. Since all those traits (being normal) are essentially their unknown and the impossible---

• I think Draconias are also fascinated by the "weakness" and braveness of Yuu/Levan. (Levan was pitiful during the time where he, Lilia and Malenoa got lost while Malenoa just had a fun time out of it). Malleus teases Yuu about is he scary now since we always seem fearless to him- I wonder if Malenoa treated Levan this way as well... (because all Draconias seems to have same personalities lol i.e Malenoa has a habit of being talkative at unusual hours too much like how Malleus visits us to talk in the night)

• This is a reach, but Levan didn't get any silouette despite the fact he was explained many times by Lilia, just like how Yuu never gets revealed in game.

• The fact that Levan seems to be referenced from the two events: Glorious Masquerade and Halloween. These events have involved Yuu importantly instead of them just being on the sidelines-

Glorious Masquerade because it seems like he's Diablo-inspired and Malleus' outfit in that event has feathers of a raven. And, the fact Levan's Name is spelled like Raven. Plus, his outfit was designed to resemble royalty Briar Valley clothing and Levan IS a Briar Valley royalty (the princess' husband.)

Halloween Event because of Levan's title containing Long/Dragon Prince Levan. Malleus' Halloween costume was a Long/Chinese Dragon. Plus, the event highlighted the difference between Western and Eastern Dragon when Malleus info-dumped Vil about it so it holds significance that Eastern Dragons exists.

• There's also this parallel of Levan and Yuu being the one who goes and never returns. It seems that Malenoa sent Levan as her messenger to the Silver Owls to stop ravaging their land-- and now she is searching for him since he hasn't returned. Maybe we can assume Malenoa is regretting it because Levan's abscene is alarming that she is sending Lilia to find him. I think the act of "sending away" can be related to how Malleus accepted immediately that we're leaving to go back home despite his fear of losing us.

In conclusion, Malleyuu is generational OR In every Draconia heir there is a Yuu for them in the Yuuniverse population😂🐉🦐

Also, correct me if any of the info mentioned are amiss 😭 sometimes my mind just rolls and makes stuff up and I'm convinced it was real LOL

sorry if i didnt add sufficient screenshots, i didnt want to reach the photo limit lol and most of the things i mentioned about Malleus (for me) seems to be basic facts in the fandom so i thought it unnecessary.

credits to gasmask01 on YT and @/081314 for the translations

[pearlsinmyhair]

˖⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

hobie’s masterlist

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: What Can I Do

< track 4 || track 6 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Barcelona Femeni x Reader

》 words count: +2.8k

》 I don't know if you see us how I do in my head

Four years of studying all the finest details of the ways she acts and moves

“She does it on purpose”

Ingrid smiles at your whining, enjoying the easy banter growing day by day between you and her girlfriend. 

But yes, she’s doing it on purpose. All the girls know, and the ones currently in the parking lot with the three of you aren’t even trying to hide their laughs. You recognise Alexia’s soft one without taking your eyes off the defender.

María is going on a rant about all the places you need to see in Madrid since the team is going to play Atlético on the weekend. As if you’re not gonna be free there for a couple of hours and you still understand close to nothing of what she’s saying in the first place.

You have no doubt she insists on speaking exclusively in Spanish just to annoy you, she’s perfectly aware you can’t even order a coffee without the barista trying to hide a giggle at your scrambled words.

“You have to practise, she’s helping”, it’s cute she’s trying to defend her girlfriend.

“She’s a broken record”

As a matter of fact, or just to prove her point, the Spaniard’s voice is a constant background noise - from the walk toward the training centre, all the way through the changing room, and till the first stretching exercises.

You will never accept a ride from the couple, ever again.

“Mapi, give the girl a break! I’m exhausted and I’m not even listening”

You like Keira, Keira is funny in a comfortable way. Ingrid and her are the only ones able to buffer María’s enthusiasm when they notice you get overwhelmed by the language or you’re just too tired to deal with her energy.

“¡Y ni te entiende!” (And she doesn’t even understand you)

“Necesita practicar su Español” (She needs to practise her Spanish)

“She’s still here”, you try to calm your teammates’ excitement as soon as you notice more girls are gathering around you.

They planned a movie night at your place anyway, they will have time and space to bother you all they want later. 

You need to focus on your exercises right now, despite the elegant and defined movements that keep catching your attention on the small training area.

Alexia is stretching just a couple of metres away from you, talking with Marta and Irene while casually controlling a ball with her foot. Somehow, there’s always a football around her.

The punch Mapi directs at your ribcage - powerful, and quite frankly uncalled for - manages to knock the wind out of you, drawing attention and a laugh from your teammates, but a glare from Jonatan. 

The red all over your face is surely due to the blonde’s hit, nothing else.

“Just hit her back”

“And add fuel to the fire?”

“¿Qué?”, Alexia’s eyebrow rises. 

She’s closer to you now, you both like to be at your manager’s left side when he’s explaining the tactics he wants to review as his hands’ gestures are clearer.

You’re going to start the next game, he made an all scene the previous day to let you know that, so you should listen to what he’s saying.

“Nothing. I tried, she gets more annoying”

“María Leon masterclass”

She’s distracting, her smile is lighting up the whole training centre. You definitely have to listen to your manager.

You’re slowly but securely finding your place in this new club. The press is still talking about the fact you came out of nowhere, and the online comments are still questioning if you deserve to be here in the first place.

Your last season in Italy was fun to say the least, managing to stand up against the big ones and earning with your team a place for the Champions League group stage. You were a little disappointed when a loan was hanging over your head once again, but when Barcelona knocks at your door you open the windows too. 

Games spent warming the bench, minutes after minutes, your confidence grows. Your positioning around some of the best players in the world is getting better and easier, the balls you play moving faster and flawlessly. 

You’re finding your place, both on and off the field.

“¿Estás en la luna?”

“Eh?”

The Catalan has to fake a cough to hide her laugh at your confused face, immediately fixing her stoic one and nodding at what Jonatan is saying as if nothing happened.

No need to say you’re matching the red training top, her smile is contagious.

The rest of the session goes on without any more accidents, you need to avoid Mapi and pair with Ingrid or Irene to survive but you manage. Even if most of your passes somehow end up finding a certain blonde in the final scrimmage.

The field is now free of all equipment, your teammates heading toward the changing room. 

All but one.

Alexia’s hanging back, not leaving the training ground with the excuse to collect some of the balls left behind. She doesn’t need to do that, obviously. But she does. She takes the time with each ball, feeling it around her feet and controlling them as second nature. 

You know because you leave the balls around for her.

As the one and only newcomer, you take upon yourself the task of helping the trainers to put the equipment away after each session. You’re happy to do that, it’s a way to become familiar with the place and the people working here. 

You noticed her habit of looking around for some balls before leaving the field so you started to hide a few for her to find.

If she knows, she doesn’t say anything or care.

~

Three years of falling asleep with your hand on her chest, her heartbeat as the only lullaby that can make you rest

Your house is filled with loud Spanish girls, gathered around the living room and screaming at the TV like the people inside the box can actually hear their strong opinions.

This particular dating show is getting largely famous among your teammates, some of them organising watching parties to live comment together. 

It’s Alexia’s turn to host and, surprisingly to no one, she’s actually hosting at your house. 

You’re not even into this show in the first place, they talk too fast for you to understand and you don’t really get who is actually flirting with who. But the relationship with the Catalan is growing so naturally and strongly, also around funny misinterpretation in Spanish and tender touches that linger a bit too long and a bit too frequently to be just friendly, so it feels meant to be. 

“¡No me lo creo, cuando le dio un beso?!” (You’re kidding, when did they kiss?!)

You offered the place without really thinking about it, she’s supposed to spend the night here anyway. How bad could it be to have half a dozen of your friends around for a bit?

“¡Joder, qué cabrón!” (What a fucking asshole!)

“Tiene más cuernos que un rebaño”

“¡Llepaculs!”

Really bad, apparently. 

Jana and Ona are literally jumping on your sofa over something a broad guy just said, definitely the wrong thing given their reaction. Claudia is muttering under her breath all night, you have no idea what she’s actually on about but Patri, sitting on the floor next to her, sometimes bursts out laughing so you let them be. Mapi is on the far side of the sofa, a frown between her eyebrows when she’s not making her opinion loud and clear - Ingrid is out with Frido tonight, that must be it. Even Marta is getting more and more involved in the shenanigans. 

It must be a great episode.

Alexia, on the other hand, is paying no attention to the screen.

You try to let the girls be, entertaining yourself in the kitchen making snacks for them, but every time you excuse yourself the blonde is ready to drag you back, fitting your body between her legs. 

All things considerate, you’re enjoying the show your friends are putting on in your living room. They’re loud and funny and passionate, but they’re also loyal and warm.

Your girlfriend’s hands are warm too, finding their place under the royal blue hoodie you are wearing. Her fingers are drawing patterns on your ribcage, sometimes letters and sometimes abstract figures. She’s not even watching the TV, she’s smiling at the way you’re taking the scenes around you in, and how your body reacts when she’s caressing a particular spot.

Hosting this watching party was such a bad idea.

When another yawn catches you unprepared, you hide your face in the hollow of her neck, a grin spreading on Alexia’s face. You can feel her lighting up.

“Cansada?” (Tired?)

“Too late for Spanish”

“Nunca es un buen momento para ti” (It’s never a good time for you)

“Watch your silly little soap opera and let me sleep, Putellas”

Alexia has to suppress her laugh, catching on to the stress in the room since the episode is coming to an end and no one is happy with the outcome.

She turns your body closer against hers, your friends too distracted to realise you now take most of the couch and you’re practically lying on top of her. The blonde doesn’t mind though, holding you firmly.

When she feels your hand grips her shirt’s front, she knows you’re gone for tonight.

You don’t hear your teammates leaving your house, their disappointment about the episode is easily replaced by teasing of the lovely scene. The Catalan doesn’t need words to scold them, not moving from her position but promising revenge in the next training session. 

Mapi is the last one to leave, taking her time to tease her friend and silently admire how happy and comfortable the two of you look.

“¡Vete María!” (Leave!)

“Estás actuando como el dueño de la casa, ¿lo sabes?” (You’re acting a lot like the owner of the house, you know?)

The red on Alexia’s face is starting to spread and her friend needs to leave before she says something that’s gonna be stuck in the captain’s head.

“Un mal dueño también, no acompañar tu invitados a la puerta” (A bad host too, not even walking your guests out)

It’s a pillow that escorts the defender out, hitting the closing door all the way through your living room.

~

Two years of heading to a future that appallingly looks a lot like the same for the both of you

“¿Quieres un bebé?” (Do you want a kid?)

At Alexia’s question, you almost choke on the glass of wine you’re drinking. 

It’s the off-season, it’s such a beautiful sunny day, it’s a dreamy vacation you gifted each other with. Why is she trying to kill you?

“Right now?”, you manage to find your words, red wine now spread all over your linen shirt. 

She better buy you a new one.

“No, mi amor, not right now”, she hands you her jacket, failing to hide her amusement and her blush.

Her smile is soft and full of affection, and you never loved someone like you love her - even if she almost killed you.

“¿Sólo por curiosidad?” (Are you asking just out of curiosity?)

“You were cute with those girls at the beach”

“I’m always cute with kids”

“Sí, tienes razón” (Yeah, you’re right)

“But?”, you’re getting nervous about where this conversation’s heading.

You just wanted to enjoy a nice date out with your beautiful girlfriend in a fancy restaurant on the other side of the world.

You both deserve some time for each other, last season was exhausting and you both played more minutes than you were supposed to due to her bothering knee and your extra hours both for club and country.

You didn’t see such a conversation coming, you still feel sand on your skin and the sun sparkling in Alexia’s eyes.

“I’m not asking to make a kid tonight”

“We could definitely try though”

“I’m asking if you want kids in the future”, she smiles and she’s playing with her hands like she just confessed stealing candies from said kids.

“Quiero un bebé un día, ya lo sabes” (You know I want a kid one day)

“¿Conmigo?” (With me?)

You reach for her across the table, holding her hand between yours like your entire existence depends on it, on letting her understand how important she is in your life and how much your life together meant for you. 

Alexia looks so insecure you’re almost scared of what’s happening in her mind, she knows you want kids once your career comes to an end and she knows you are in for the long run with her.

“Mírame, mi corazón” (Look at me)

“Mamá y Alba made jokes y noー”

“Quiero un bebé contigo, Alexia” (I want a kid with you)

“Sì?”

“To be honest, I dreamed about a little you running around and kicking a ball barefoot, but then the ball was your Ballon d’Or, and turned into a rocket destroying the entire house, so I didn’t feel like mentioning it”

The waitress interrupting you must sense there’s an important conversation happening, the blonde is giggling with tears in her eyes and you are barely sitting on your chair. He clears the table and nicely suggests the house’s dessert, you nod but ask for a couple of minutes.

“We can start trying tonight”

You love her open laugh.

~

One year of trying to tell yourself that nothing changed about the way you feel of your life here, of your life here with her

Every time you close your eyes you see the ring Alexia’s hiding in a fucking shoe box. 

One time, when she’s away for a photoshoot with a magazine you don’t even remember the name of, you find yourself digging into the closet for the velvet box, unsure of everything.

It fits perfectly, it’s the perfect ring.

You take it off so fast you’re scared you ripped your own finger too.

It’s getting all too much.

You’re sleeping less and when you do, you’re restless and anxious. It doesn’t matter what you cook, it all tastes wrong in your mouth. You’re ignoring your friends and finding lame excuses to avoid nights out that don’t involve all the team.

The only thing you’re able to focus on is football. 

You’re training harder, playing faster and decisively, spending more and more time on the pitch and in the gym, picking up extra training sessions.

You can ignore your mind if your body is louder.

But you love Alexia too much to ignore her.

When she speaks about a contract extension, about how happy she’s to captain the team for another three years and to be recognized for her pivotal role, you listen and match her enthusiasm. You’re so proud of her. You’re proud of what she achieved in Barcelona, what she means for the club and for the city and for the future of the game. 

Even if you’re thinking your time wearing the Blaugrana colours is fading, seeking a new challenge elsewhere to prove you learned from the best ones and you can now play against them.

You’re extending your stay in Barcelona just to be close to Alexia.

When she points out you need to start practising your Catalan too, because she wants your kids to speak her first language and understand her culture, you think it is admirable how strong she feels about her home and her roots. You want that for your kids too.

Even if you miss your home country and sometimes you have to remember you have your own roots and culture and memories, ending up speaking to yourself in the bathroom mirror just to make sure you didn’t forget your own language.

You’re ignoring your homesickness just to be where Alexia’s heart is.

When she shows you how much she loves you and the life you’re living and the future you’re building together, you take all the affection and support and care because you’re so happy you’re still able to give her it all.

Even if you know you’re loving her more than you’re loving your life.

You’re hating yourself just to be in love with Alexia.

There’s not a single doubt about your love for Alexia. You love her the way writers seek the right words for their poems, and sailors fight the worst storms just to get back home, and kids pick the brightest colours for their drawings.

You love her so much that there’s no way you can leave her. 

However, you can’t pretend anymore that Barcelona is your future, this city is not your home and this culture is not yours to feel.

That’s how you find yourself with a one-way flight ticket, running away from the only place you can leave without guilt.

You leave Barcelona because that’s how you’ll find yourself again - how you’ll love yourself again.

You don’t regret leaving Barcelona, you regret losing Alexia in the process.

[cobragardens]

My Favorite Good Omens Moment:

An Essay on Why It Is Cool and Rad (Part 1)

There's this moment in Good Omens that makes me cackle every time I see it and leaves me full of warmth, so here's an essay on its context and meaning, because explication and analysis are how I show love. I will try to keep my thoughts as tight as possible, but they do have a tendency to spiral outwards, and I am very stoned. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.

My favorite moment in the series so far occurs in 1601. To approach it we will first need an assload of context. There's a TL;DR in bold at the end of the Context if you don't fancy reading the whole assload. Key arguments are in italics and bold throughout.

David Tennant gives Crowley a very consistent facial expression every time Aziraphale says something so outlandish Crowley can't quite believe he's hearing it. It's this one:

Chronologically, we see the Eyebrows of Disbelief twice before my fave moment in 1601: once (above left) in that scene on the Garden Wall that familiarizes the audience with Crowley's face before adding the dark glasses, when Aziraphale admits he's given away his sword; once when Aziraphale tells Bildad the Shuhite that he, Aziraphale, has Fallen because he lied to the angels to save Job's children.

The Eyebows of Disbelief always signal surprise and amusement with something Aziraphale has said or done. This amusement is sometimes at Aziraphale's expense and sometimes not.

In the gifs above, Crowley is laughing because what Aziraphale has just admitted to doing is fantastic and unexpected and frankly pretty gd punk rock. He's not laughing at Aziraphale, he's laughing because he is delighted with him. The only record we have thus far of Crowley laughing at Aziraphale is this one:

Crowley laughs when Aziraphale informs him--him, a demon who has personally been through the process of Falling--that Aziraphale is Fallen and must be a demon now. As though of the two of them Aziraphale is the expert on how and under what circumstances this occurs.

And yet when Crowley sees Aziraphale's distress--not his fear of being taken to Hell, but his heartbreak and lostness over the fact that his conscience has diverged from God's stated will--Crowley stops laughing, and instead he acts very kindly towards Aziraphale. He validates the gravity of what Aziraphale has done and assures him he won't turn him in. He sits with him so Aziraphale isn't totally alone (like Crowley probably was) as he goes through the loneliest moments of his existence to that point and picks himself up newly weighted with the secret he must now bear.

And after this scene (in canon as it stands thus far), we don't see Crowley laugh at anything Aziraphale says or does again.

And he really has to work for it sometimes. We talk a lot about the things Michael Sheen is able to convey with his face in Good Omens, and absolutely rightly so; David Tennant earns a chunk of his paycheck in this regard as well. If you haven't given yourself the treat yet, rewatch the scene in Will Goldstone's magic shop in 1941 and focus on Crowley's reactions:

Tennant takes great care to show, with precision, that Crowley is expending effort not to react to Aziraphale's nervous chaos Muppetry and lack of self-awareness. Crowley is self- and socially and contextually aware enough that he knows (better than Aziraphale, at least, which is not a high bar to clear) what's cringe, what's funny, what's ridiculous, how to behave. But whenever Aziraphale crosses a boundary of normalcy, or even sanity, and there is opportunity to laugh at him, Crowley very carefully doesn't react. He doesn't interrupt him, he doesn't try to correct him, he doesn't make fun of him, he doesn't even smirk; he just watches him, as stone-faced as he can manage, no matter how bizarre Aziraphale becomes.

We should be reading this lack of reaction to Aziraphale's social and rational transgressions as powerful positive action. Go watch the Doctor Who episode "Human Nature," or literally any episode of The Inbetweeners, or read or watch Regeneration, and reflect on what it shows you about English masculinity; then consider again the depth of significance in how English- and male-coded character Crowley treats English- and male-coded character Aziraphale in an England created by an English and male-codedpresenting author based off a book written by himself and another male-presenting author. Within its context of English masculinity, Crowley's lack of reaction is not a neutral stance; it is a very fucking loud show of support.

This is not even an inference; it's stated outright in the show. Crowley himself puts it into words 422 years after my favorite moment:

You know how Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel" because the factuality of the descriptor offers him plausible deniability to any Heavenly or Infernal agents who might be listening? Remember how Crowley is a great equivocator? Crowley is equivocating here, too: he's using the cover of what Maggie and Nina will take as a disparaging joke at Aziraphale's expense in order to make a perfectly sincere statement. This is his genuine perception of one of the relationship dynamics he has with Aziraphale and how he feels about that dynamic. Crowley thinks he himself is quite witty (an accurate assessment), Crowley thinks Aziraphale isn't sufficiently self- or contextually aware to hide how strange he is and therefore frequently says and does mad things (also an accurate assessment), and Crowley is Into. That. Shit.

Okay. Now let's look at 1601.

Chronologically it's been almost 1,000 years since we last saw Aziraphale and Crowley. In 537, Aziraphale isn't willing even to consider a labor-saving working arrangement with Crowley of fucking off home out of the damp of Arthurian Wessex; but by 1601, he's worked (and met, and Arranged) with Crowley "dozens of times now," Crowley says, and Azirapahle does not correct him.

In that millienium, Aziraphale has grown to care deeply about Crowley:

In fact he may be somewhat smitten with him:

Seriously, go back and watch Aziraphale here as Crowley approaches and starts speaking to him: he doesn't start smiling until he recognizes that the person speaking to him is Crowley (but he only smiles at Crowley while Crowley's not looking at him).

And Crowley is definitely become smitten with Aziraphale:

Our man(-shaped entity) is so allergic to work he sets up a meeting to weasel, cajole, or (as it happens) cheat a coin toss to get Aziraphale to do an easy temptation for him in Edinburgh, and then in the same conversation agrees to miracle a play into success because Aziraphale gives him a single hopeful look. Crowley's got it bad.

TL;DR: The Eyebrows of Disbelief happen when Crowley is surprised and amused by something Aziraphale has said or done. Sometimes that amusement is delight with Aziraphale; sometimes it is at Aziraphale's expense. Crowley is aware of this distinction, and when his amusement is at Aziraphale's expense, he suppresses it, even when it takes some effort on his own part, and remains stocially composed. This is equivocation on his part: to Celestial/Infernal operatives lacking knowledge of the intricacies of human behavior, this non-reaction would seem like neutrality; to Aziraphale, who shares with Crowley and the audience the contextual knowledge of English masculinity's utter viciousness, this non-reaction is a profound show of support; and in the safety of support from Crowley, Aziraphale lets his weirdness blossom.

As another meta points out [link if I find it again], we also see in Aziraphale's wordless request about Hamlet and Crowley's immediate understanding of it that by 1601 Aziraphale and Crowley have developed an unspoken, coded method of communication with each other.

Now that we have all of that in mind, here's my favorite moment in Good Omens:

Ixi of Fuck Yeah Good Omens has even kindly archived a closeup of the aftermath, for Crowley, of "Buck up!" In gif 4, above, you can see that the tiny smile is an involuntary reaction that happens as Crowley's eyes widen: for a fraction of a second, he's caught off-guard. In the closeup it's easier to see that he suppresses the smile and gives a tiny shake of his head, Eyebrows of Disbelief heading for his hairline.

There are a number of things Crowley's reaction could mean and what messages it could communicate (we'll get to that in a sec), but regardless, his reaction is, unquestionably, one of surprise and suppressed amusement. This is an aspect of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship and characters that I like very much, viz., that one of the reasons Crowley likes Aziraphale (though Aziraphale is judgy and occasionally, unintentionally, horrifyingly cruel) is that in addition to being one of the kindest and most courageous beings in existence, Aziraphale is mad as a bag of frogs. Crowley does not know what is going to come out of Aziraphale's lovely mouth next, but Crowley does know there's a good chance he will struggle to believe he's hearing it, and Crowley likes that.

That's what makes this my favorite moment. What makes this moment so cool and rad, though, is its ineffability. We know from the Eyebrows of Disbelief that Crowley is surprised and amused, but any of several things could be read in that almost imperceptible headshake. Like:

What are you doing? or

Why are you like this? or

How can you be aware that you say these things out loud and yet still say them out loud? or

How has my existence come to this? this moment of listening to such insanity?

each of which is a fair and just feeling to have/message to communicate to a man(-shaped entity) who is yelling "Buck up!" at Hamlet.

But that's only if we read Crowley's amusement as being at Aziraphale's expense. And I don't think we should. Because watch Aziraphale here:

He's doing it on purpose. He is shouting a hilariously inappropriate, 100% authentic Aziraphale-brand thing over arguably the gloomiest passage of Shakespeare's famously gloomy play--right after Crowley complains about its gloominess--and he is watching Crowley as he does it. Look at his smile! He knows he's being Deeply Uncool, and he is doing it literally right into Crowley's face.

Remember that we just talked about how by this point in the chronology Crowley and Aziraphale have learned to communicate with each other nonverbally through facial expression? So what does it mean when Aziraphale responds to Crowley's grumbling about Hamlet's gloominess by smiling his minxious Mona Lisa Aziraphale smile, looking right into Crowley's face, and yelling at Hamlet to buck up? Aziraphale, in a carefully coded, carefully Aziraphale way, is joking with Crowley. His silliness in this moment is for Crowley.

So with aaaaaaallllll of this essay in mind, what does it mean that Crowley's reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" is widening eyes, an involuntary twitch of his mouth toward a smile, and then, his eyebrows still showing surprise and amusement, a tiny shake of his head?

Once more, with inferences:

I do propose, y'all, on the basis of this web of evidence I submit for consideration, that what we are seeing here in my favorite moment of Good Omens is the ineffable equivalent of Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a laugh.

Crowley's amusement here isn't at Aziraphale, because Aziraphale is eliciting that amusement consciously and deliberately. Aziraphale, in good spirits and happy to see Crowley, uses his Aziraphaleness to offers Crowley not only an opportunity for amusement, but the opportunity to be in agreement with him about what in this situation is funny. They're on the same side of this joke.

And his humor lands just as he wants it to: Crowley, just for a moment, is caught off-guard, and tickled--

But remember, Crowley is worried in this scene about being surveilled ("I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here"), and he worries about audio surveillance a lot ("Walls have ears"; "Don't say that. If my lot hear [etc.]," etc.), so he's very limited in what reactions he can show or voice. Aziraphale knows Crowley must be perceived by anyone watching or listening to disapprove of his, Aziraphale's, behavior (just as he must be perceived to disapprove vociferously of Crowley's). Both of them know this.

--so Crowley suppresses the smile almost successfully, and shakes his head at Aziraphale, minutely, to say Stop. What you're doing is working, you're close to making me laugh, and if I show how much you have just delighted me, it will blow our cover of "just an Arrangement."

I offer three final data points in advancing my argument that what we see in my favorite Good Omens moment is Aziraphale successfully attempting to joke with Crowley and Crowley recognizing that overture from Aziraphale and being momentarily surprised into a reaction of genuine delight before pulling his face back under control and indicating to Aziraphale that he must stop:

Datum 1. Nothing going on with Crowley's face in this moment is accidental. We know for sure we're not seeing David Tennant react to Michael Sheen here not only because of literally every other point of Tennant's and Sheen's performances in the show, but because Tennant is wearing opaque contacts and sunglasses under film lighting and therefore cannot be reacting to anything more compelling than a level-10-lift blur because Tennant cannot see shit. Crowley's reaction is a deliberate and careful performance choice on Tennant's part, and it's underscored by director Douglas Mackinnon's choice to film Tennant in 1/2 profile to keep Crowley's eyes visible and face readable to the audience. This reaction is supposed to be there and supposed to be meaningful.

Datum 2. The husbands in 1601 is not the only moment in Good Omens when we may be seeing an angel and a demon communicate the message Stop doing that, it makes us look too familiar between themselves with a little headshake:

Datum 3: There is another moment in Good Omens when Aziraphale offers Crowley the opportunity to enjoy a joke with him. There, too, his humor lands just as he intends, so we can use this other moment as a comparison to our 1601 moment. I don't have gifs for it, but go back and watch it, S1E6 49:27-42. Snips below.

Aziraphale says something that surprises and amuses Crowley (he asked Hell for a rubber duck while he was sloshing around in the holy water)--

--but what Aziraphale says makes Crowley smile long before it makes him laugh.

In fact, his laugh, though a genuine cackle, is quite delayed, and he laughs only after Aziraphale starts laughing too.

In other words, Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale offering him amusement they're both on the same side of is exactly the same as his reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" right up until he laughs instead of shaking his head. Here, after Armageddidn't, Crowley doesn't have to suppress his reaction, so he can let the smile bloom; he doesn't have to control his response, so, although it takes him a few extra seconds, he lets the smile turn into a laugh.

But in 1601, it's not safe to laugh at Aziraphale's humor. It's not safe even to smile at him. A single piece of evidence or eye/earwitness testimony that he and Crowley have anything more friendly than the most passing and acrimonious of professional relationships could mean death to either or both of them, and depending on what Falling is like, maybe something worse than death for Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale is so funny, so effervescent for Crowley, at Crowley, that it catches Crowley just for a moment. Crowley's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile.

And that's dangerous. If Aziraphale keeps acting so charmingly mad, Crowley is going to laugh, and they can't afford that risk, so he shakes his head at Aziraphale. Stop, or I won't be able to keep a straight face around you.

And Aziraphale apparently receives that message, because he immediately eases off. Less than 60 seconds later we learn that he's deeply concerned for Crowley's safety--and that it's not so much that Aziraphale has Crowley wrapped around his little finger as it is that Crowley has wrapped himself around Aziraphale's little finger like a snake arranging itself on the tree branch it calls home.

UPDATE 14/10/23: HOLY SHIT Y'ALL IT GETS EVEN BETTER! THERE IS A SEQUEL!

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey, can I request Bruce x ex-villain reader, where Bruce needs some information/help so he goes to find the reader (who let Bruce find him) to negotiate. The reader isn't really that keen to go back to the whole action scene because he lives a real comfortablelife at some island or soemthing, but Bruce makes an offer the reader can't really say no to

Of course anon. Why do I feel like this would be me? Hm... Also, sorry this took so long.

Summary: Bruce offers something that (Y/N) can't offer for intel.

Warnings: nothing bad... Maybe some cursing.

Intel was something precious. Something that can be life and death in the vigilante world, especially if you are after terrorists or a bigger threat in the world to keep it safe. Of course, intel doesn't come without a price. Those who know things use that knowledge as a bartering chip in order to get what they want.

Bruce knew that all too well.

As of now, he needed intel. There was only a single problem in this case. (Y/N) (L/N). He is a former villain that has decided to retire to somewhere in the world. Where is that somewhere? Bruce didn't know. (Y/N) and Bruce had a respect-hate relationship. While the two really hated each other, but had a way to respect one another.

After their last fight, (Y/N) had dropped a bomb that he was retiring, saying that he was bored of being a villain. Bruce nearly had a heart attack when he heard that and was curious as to why. Why a sudden change of heart?

Either way, after that night, (Y/N) was gone. Bruce a little bit sad. It was very fun fighting with (Y/N), playing mind games, trying to rattle one another. And one think that Bruce loved about (Y/N) was the fact that he didn't go after his sons. In fact, he saved them a few times.

However, (Y/N) was still in loop when it came to intel. Bruce had a few theories as to why, but Bruce thought it was to stay safe and move if necessary. And more importantly, he was impossible to find. Bruce has tried, but couldn't fine him for the life of him.

It was frustrating and yet, impressive at the same time. Nobody has been able to hide from him that well and it wasn't funny at this point. And Bruce would leave (Y/N) alone. Would, but he needs intel and only (Y/N) has it. So... He had to find (Y/N) and do whatever it takes to get that intel.

And after weeks of searching, he found (Y/N). It was a private island, of course. Bruce got into his plane, suit and off he went. It was a long flight, but he had nothing but time to think about all of this. How does he approach this? He has to offer (Y/N) something in return for the intel.

Money? (Y/N) has a shit ton of it if he has his own private island in the middle of nowhere, in the ocean. Like... He has a big amount of money... Not money it seems. Maybe something...

Something he could bring back...

What was he going to bring to the table? Bruce chuckled to himself as I looked at the ocean underneath him. There is something else going on between (Y/N) and Bruce. They knew each others identities and there was something more than just being enemies. Before (Y/N) retired, the two started being more civil and...

There was something that Bruce couldn't pinpoint for the life of him. There was something that made Bruce feel truly alive, adrenaline coursing through his veins... Something electric. (Y/N) was also affected by it, but the two men would rather die than show it towards one another.

Maybe... He could on that. He could use that to get intel. But that will only work it (Y/N) shares the same feelings. Oh, if only he knew. Bruce landed on an empty piece of land, where (Y/N) was waiting already, in his swim shorts and a cigar in his mouth. He watched in silence as Bruce stepped out of his plane.

" You have been difficult to find. " Bruce said as he stepped out into the warm weather, taking his cowl off.

" For the record, I allowed you to find me and you know it Bruce. So, what brings you to my humble island? " (Y/N) asked before taking a long drag of his cigar, leading the way to his manor. Bruce followed, quickly walking alongside him.

" I think you know why I need help. " Bruce said and (Y/N) chuckled quietly as he let out the smoke of his cigar.

" You are right, I do know why. However, " (Y/N) said as he opened the door to his mansion. Bruce saw how there was so much natural light and thought how nice it is to have so much sunlight. You can be lucky if there is sun in Gotham city.

" So Bruce... What can you give me in exchange for the intel you need? " (Y/N) asked as he finished his cigar, moving to pour himself some whiskey.

" Something that I think you can't resist. " Bruce said coolly and smirked as (Y/N) raised his brow."

" And what would that be? "

" I know you didn't want to retire. I know you are itching to get out of it. And I know you are tired of being a villain. Maybe you can be a hero for a change... Maybe we can finally act on our feelings we tried to bury. "

Bruce watched (Y/N) intently. His breath hitched for a moment and he looked away for a moment.

" How in God's name did you know? "

" Maybe because I'm the world's greatest detective. " Bruce replied and (Y/N) huffed.

" Don't flatter yourself. " (Y/N) said with faux annoyance and Bruce stopped smirking.

" Is that the reason why you retired? To bury those feelings? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) rolled his eyes.

" No... I was actually tired of being a bad guy. It's not as fun anymore."

Bruce chuckled at that. Of course.

" Really? "

" Yup. You blow up a few buildings here and there, mess with you... But it's not fun anymore. " (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders.

" Maybe we can work together. " Bruce suggested, leaning on the counter.

" Is that a way of getting into my pants? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce shook his head with a chuckle.

" No it's not. "

" You sure? You are a playboy after all. " (Y/N) said as he sipped his whiskey slowly.

" Not anymore. Haven't been in the game for a while. " Bruce shrugged his shoulders and (Y/N) chuckled quietly.

" If I chose to accept it, does it mean I would have to work with the Justice League? "

" Not if you don't want to. " Bruce answered softly and (Y/N) relaxed a little bit. He put the glass down, the sound resonating in the now quiet kitchen.

" Well, that is something I can't refuse... You really caught me off guard. " (Y/N) said laughing, leaning on the counter of his kitchen.

" Does this mean I get my intel too? " Bruce chuckled and (Y/N) nodded.

" I guess so. "

" So when can I expect you in Gotham? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) tilted his head in thought.

" Next week. I need to make a few arrangements and then I'll come. "

Bruce nodded and watched (Y/N) with a small smile. " Can I kiss you?" Bruce asked him and (Y/N) nodded, moving closer to Bruce.

Bruce gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before pulling back with a smile. " See you in a week (Y/N). "

(Y/N) chuckled, pouring himself more whiskey. " See you in a week. "

[sthnearlyheadless]

Sofia

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader y'all i'm lazy. i don't fell like making a summary. and as always, i didn't proofread, if there's any mistakes, i apologize. Warnings: nothing but kisses and mentions of fights, i think

"I can’t believe you”

“What, you can’t believe me? Are you fucking serious, Jenna?” You responded watching the small women taking off her expensive shoes angrily. Jenna’s eyes glaring at you, almost throwing knives at you.

“I was having fun, Y/N. Why do you had to make such a scene? I though I was the actress here, but you deserved an Oscar for that, I have to admit”

You followed her to the kitchen as soon as you finished locking the front door of the house that you both shared.

“I can’t believe you’re seriously pissed at me for protecting you. What the hell is your problem, man? That douchebag was trying to touch you! You wanted me to sit there and just watch it?!”

“Don’t yell at me, Y/N!” Jenna pointed at you and you took a step back immediately as she took one forward. You see, you guys height difference was very noticeable, but Jenna’s anger was something that always scared you a little. You never wanted push your luck with the Latina woman so much. Even though you knew each other basically your entire life since you are childhood friends that recently started to live together, you never saw this look on her eyes before.

“I could’ve handled myself just fine. It was an event, Y/N. There was cameras everywhere! You didn’t have to punch him in the face and start a fucking fight!”

Well, thinking for this side… Jenna’s was kind of right. But you couldn’t help yourself when you noticed that she was uncomfortable and had - a lot of times - told that stupid guy to leave her alone and he obviously didn’t listen and worse, tried to force her to go to somewhere, you lost all your reasoning.

“And look at your face. It’s all bruised up” she continued resting the glass of water on the sink and looking at you. You looked away, ashed. You realized now that you might have caused problems to her. You know, the fight was recorded for sure, and people will definitely talk about this on the Internet. You never wanted to harm Jenna in any kind of way, but you might have now. You just wanted to protect the girl you loved… and not only in a friendly way. You’ve noticed your feelings for Jenna when you guys were about 18. You were 21 now. Since then you had dated some other girls for a while and watched her date some other people too, but your heart was and still is entirely hers… even though she never noticed and you don’t have the guts to say it.

You probably never will.

“You should see the other guy” you said in a low voice, still not looking at you.

It was Jenna’s turn to let out a tired sigh. She decided to walk towards you again, not in a menacing posture anymore. She didn’t wanna fight anymore. The discussion all the way back home and now was tiring enough, that and the fact that she didn’t stop get worried for you. Not in one single second.

And now that the bruises were more noticeable, she worried more. Her anger quickly slowing down.

“Sit there. I’m gonna take care of this” she pointed at the couch.

“Jenna, you don’t have to that. I’m fine and…”

“Don’t argue with me, Y/N. I’m tired. Just do it, okay?” she let out a sigh looking deep in your eyes. Like always, you couldn’t deny her.

You sat down on the couch like Jenna said so and waited. Playing with your fingers thinking about how stupid you were. You let Jenna down, you probably caused trouble on her career and if you ever dreamed on having a chance with her, you could totally forget about it now. She would never see you in a different way. You always going to be the trouble girl that Jenna had to step in to not get in more trouble.

“This is gonna sting a little” she announced as she already had put the medicine on the cotton and put the first aid kit on the floor. She sat really close to you and started to rub the cotton on the bruised parts. You watched her face so close to yours as her intense brown eyes looking carefully at your face.

“Ouch! Jenna, easy!” you tried to back off, only to Jenna grab your jaw. Not in a rush way, but strong enough to keep you still. “Geez, Jen, c’mon!” you cried out.

“Stop being a baby. You should’ve thought about before getting into a fight. Again”

You grimaced before answering:

“I don’t mind being hurt, Jenna. As long as defending you”

Jenna sighed. For the hundredth time. She did that a lot when she was mad. She finally stopped applying medicine on your bruises and you thanked all the gods you knew for that. Although the look on her face scared you, you didn’t know what to think. You knew Jenna your entire life, but even for you was hard to read her face. Her perfect and beautiful features.

“You’re never gonna change, are you, Y/N?”

“If by that you mean protecting you, no, I’m not”

“Even if you get hurt like that?” she pointed at your face and hands. “You’re crazy, Y/N”

“I told I don’t care! What can’t you get that?”

“I can’t understand why you always get in the middle of something that involves me!” she stood up, starting to raise her voice as well. “I mean I know that you’re my best friend, but act like…”

“Like what?” you pushed, speaking low, but standing up too.

“Like… like your jealous” she said at last. Like she was unsure of what she just said out loud. Even though she was sensing it for a little while, she, just like you, didn’t say things out loud sometimes. You were alike in this way.

“Say something, Y/N” Jenna crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“What you want me to say, Jenna?” you looked at the floor.

“Anything, Y/N! Anything!” you looked at her again with this burst of her. “What’s really going on with you? You know you can tell me anything”

“I love you”

“Um… Y/N, I-I love you too, you know that… but what this…”

“No. Not like that!” You stepped back and sat defeated sat on the couch, looking up to the small woman who looked puzzled by you right now.

“I don’t just love you in a friendly way. My feelings for changed since I was 18. I can tell it’s love because it didn’t fade nor has diminished. I never felt this for anyone in my life, Jenna, I love every single detail about you and everything you do. I love how you’re passionate about the things you love, your career, your family. How dedicate you are… I love you”

Jenna didn’t say anything. She was… totally mute. And that was scared you the most. You could’ve expected her to say anything, literally anything, Jenna always have something to say. But now, now that you finally have spilled your true feelings locked inside you for so many years… you have silence as response.

And Jenna looking blankly back at you.

“I know you don’t feel the same, I-I… don’t worry. I’m gonna crush at someone’s house tonight. After that I can come and get my stuff” You said, trying your best to hold back your tears. “We don’t have to stay in this awkwardness between us and…”

“Shut up”

“What?”

“Just…” Jenna took a step in front of you and grabbed your face carefully and softly to not hurt you and then she closed the gap between your faces.

You did not think, you couldn’t. Her soft lips were magical, and you couldn’t think of anything anymore. The lips that were only in our imagination, tasted even better that your head could possibly project.

Her tongue asked for space inside your mouth and you more than happy allowed her dominance on the kiss. Your hands, a little bit shamefully, rested on her hips. You both moaning tasting each other.

When the air was really necessary, Jenna pulled away and rested her forehead on your. Your eyes were still closed and you looked like a pure bliss as you still hold her. Jenna smiled chuckled softly looking at your face, her soft dimples showing a bit as you guys were so close now.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Jenna caressed the baby hair on the back of your neck.

“I know. You keep saying that since we were kids”

Jenna laughed and you finally open your eyes.

“But I mean it, Jenna. I really love you”

“Why you never said anything?”

“I was scared”

“Of me?”

“Of you hating me… I don’t know, okay! This stuff is complicated, alright?”

Jenna chuckled and shook her head looking at you.

“I love that fact that you just said one of the most beautiful I’ve ever heard and you can’t explain how chicken you were”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay. I love you the you are anyways”

“You… what? You l-love or you’re just saying this because…”

“I told you to shut up, didn’t I?” Jenna kissed you once again. “It’s okay that you had chickend out. I loved you too since I was 15”

[stairs-feooff]

An Open Letter to White Emo Kids

When I was thirteen years old, I googled ‘how to be emo.’ The music, the aesthetics, the darkness of it all captivated me. There was transgression there, with boys in makeup and girls who weren’t ashamed to be bisexual. The online emo community on google plus (anyone else remember google plus? Just me?) took me in with open arms. I was allowed to be depressed, I didn’t have to hide my burgeoning sexuality or the starts of my struggle with depression, something I now know was caused by intense amounts of dysphoria and life in an abusive and queerphobic household.

Only, there was one problem. I wasn’t white. 

Certainly, nobody would say they had an issue with me being Latino to my face. Most people in the scene genuinely believed they were not racist. After all, they loved Latino people, they thought the guys in Pierce the Veil were so hot. They appreciated the culture too, sombreros and maracas were the full extent of Mexican culture, right? 

But to be emo, you had to be pale. I remember Onision saying that Black people couldn’t pull off emo, and while everyone I knew talked about how horrible he was for saying that, they all secretly believed it. The emo kids I knew stayed out of the sun, they wore long sleeves to stay whiter and some on the more goth side carried around parasols. It was just part of the gothic, to stay white and dead looking. I hid myself from the sun, my skin tanned quickly and well, we couldn’t have that. 

Every guide on emo aesthetics emphasized stick straight hair. Every emo kid I knew reinforced that idea. I begged my mom for a relaxer, she refused. It was alright, I figured out how to damage my hair well enough on my own. Pete Wentz kept his hair straight, spent his time with a flat iron to press down the curls that made him inpalatable to white suburban teenagers. I could too. The burns, the split ends, the fact that my hair didn’t start to return to its natural texture until I cut several inches off this year, that was the sacrifice kids like me needed to take to come into the scene. If not, you would be made fun of. You’d be compared to Ray Toro, everyone’s favorite ‘princess fro fro.’ He was Puerto Rican, just like me. No one talked about that, beyond whispering it around like a dirty secret. No one acknowledged his pride in his country, mirrored by my own pride instilled in me from my mother. Every piece of him, every feature identifiable as nonwhite was sneered at. His hair, his nose, his lips, the white kids said he was the ugly one because of them. I was too, I suppose. 

That was back in 2014. I remember it vividly, still.

Turn back the clock to the early 1980s. Dischord records has just signed seminal emo group, Rites of Spring. There is change in the humid Washington DC Summer air. A new genre would be born from it, branching from the existing hardcore movement. To say Dischord records created emo would be no exaggeration. Without them, the music all of us in the scene know and love would be nonexistent. Dischord was seminal in the scene, Dischord was also founded by Ian MacKeye, vocalist for Minor Threat and later, Fugazi. 

Minor Threat is not emo in the tradional sense. Musically, it’s similar to punk and hardcore groups of the time, lacking the distinct musical flourishes of MacKeye’s later emo group, Fugazi. Still, Minor Threat helped shape the hardcore scene emo was born from and created the record label that signed Rites of Spring, the first emo band. Fugazi is legendary in first and second wave emo circles, influencing bands like Thursday. MacKeye’s stamp on emo is inescapable, even in the third wave. MacKeye also penned the song: Guilty of Being White. 

Guilty of Being White is a minute of MacKeye complaining about systemic racism - or rather, being blamed for systemic racism. He’s sorry for being white, he’s so so sorry, don’t you feel sorry for him, a white man in the 1980s? Isn’t it horrible that white people are blamed for systemic inequality? Isn’t it horrible that he actually has to put work into allyship with people of color? 

MacKeye says he never meant for the song to seem racist. Surely, the fact that it’s become a favorite of white power groups is a coincidence. 

All that is to say, racism was baked into emo from the very beginning. The label that created the genre was founded by white men with very clear issues with racism, even if they did not see it that way. Pete Wentz flat ironing his Black hair and Tyler Joseph refusing to say he’s influenced by rap aren’t bugs unique to the third wave. Instead, they’re features of the genre. 

Now, I’m not writing this to ‘cancel’ emo. I love emo dearly, I still consider myself emo. It, in every wave, is my favorite genre of music. Rites of Spring, Jawbreaker, My Chemical Romance, these bands have shaped my life like no other. Through emo I have met some of my best friends, white and nonwhite alike. Emo allowed me to express my gender and sexuality freely. Emo changed my life for the better, and it continues to do so. No, I am not writing this to cancel emo, whatever that means. Instead, it is because I love the genre so much that I feel the need to point out its flaws, its shielding and harboring of racism since Dischord herself began. 

They say you should end essays like this with a call to action. Personally, I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t been reiterated a thousand times. Really, what am I supposed to say here? Stop being racist? I, like so many other people of color both in and out of the scene are tired of telling white people to do just that over and over. We are tired of seeing white people stop saying what isn’t acceptable anymore, not due to any sort of active unpacking of white supremacy on their part but simply out of a wish to not be ostracized. I am tired of going to emo spaces outside my friend groups and explaining to white thirty year olds what racism is, over and over and over again ad infinitum. I am tired of seeing white people try and take the lead on discussions of racism, whether it is to rapidly assert ‘im not racist but-‘ or to be on the opposite extreme, to jump the gun and form a dog-eat-dog circus, where the end goal is not to actually form a safe place for people of color but to prove how not racist they are. I am tired of watching white people jump on whatever they can to demonize people of color in the scene. I am tired of watching nuanced conversations about racism and complicitness in racism be overshadowed by people upset their pet white man isn’t going to kiss their other pet white man anymore. I am tired of watching children be called slurs. 

Perhaps my frustration is coming loose. It’s hard to be in the middle of all this and not be frustrated. At this point, I am disillusioned. These conversations are seemingly brought up every month, and yet, there is no systemic change. All I can say is I hope that one day, emo becomes actively hostile to racism and racists. Perhaps being aware that racism has been integral to the scene since the beginning is a good place to start. 

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Deborah Kerr (Bonjour Tristesse, An Affair to Remember, The King and I)— For several decades she held the record for most Oscar nominations without a win (6 in total), and she was a prolific leading lady throughout the 40s and 50s. She's best known today for the romance An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant, and as the governess in The King and I. Many people have this erroneous perception of her as extremely prim, proper, and virginal, but this could not be further from the truth. When she first came to Hollywood under MGM she was typecast into boring decorative roles, but broke sexual boundaries for herself and Hollywood generally in From Here to Eternity, when she made out (horizontally!) with Burt Lancaster (on top of him!) in the famous Beach Scene. She went on to play many sexually conflicted women, a character type that would define most of her post- Eternity work. She continued to break Hays Code boundaries with Tea and Sympathy, which addresses homosexuality/homophobia head-on, and even did a topless scene in The Gypsy Moths 1969!! One of the only classic stars to do so. She deserves a more nuanced and frankly a hotter legacy than she currently has!!!

Ethel Merman (Anything Goes, Call Me Madam)— Possessed of a bold, brash voice, and an even bolder and brasher presence, Ethel Merman might be more well known for her stage roles, but she made several movies, and was bold and brash in them as well. Also I think if I don't submit her, she's going to come back and haunt me.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Ethel Merman:

You've gotta love any woman who got typecast as lead-MILF

Deborah Kerr:

I think she was one of my first crushes before I realised I was bi in The King and I when I watched it as a kid honestly. The kissing scene in From Here to Eternity is iconic for a reason. Actually tried to learn the accents for the characters she was playing if they weren't English which is more than pretty much anyone else was doing then. Played very restrained characters who frequently seemed to be desperate not to be so restrained. Did horror movies without venturing into hagsploitation tropes. Gave Marni Nixon the credit she deserved for her share of the singing in The King and I.

Anne Larsen is a peak late 1950s bisexual with big MILF energy. Have you seen the behind the scenes pics of her wearing a suit?? Have you????? Vote Deb as Anne Larsen.

Nominated for an Oscar six (6) times and never won, but besides her having actual talent (hot), and besides her looking Like That (very hot, also beautiful), she was always playing women who are, like, crazy repressed. Which makes it fun and easy for me to read these characters as queer. Icon!!!! You know what's hot? Playing ambiguously gay in vintage Hollywood.

Her face and talent and body, yes, ofc, duh. But also!!! Her HANDS!!!! I may be but a simple lesbian, but she is the best hactor (hand actor) that ever lived and that's HOT! For propriety's sake I feel I must redact a large portion of my commentary on this subject. Anyway. She's hot in her most famous roles (mentioned above), and also some of her sexiest hacting is on display in An Affair to Remember (her hand on the bannister when Cary Grant kisses her off-screen??? HELLO???), Tea and Sympathy (when she's trying to persuade Tom not to go out and she keeps flexing her hands like she wants to reach out to him but can't??? ALLY BEHAVIOR! WE STAN!), and The Innocents (which opens and closes with extended shots of her hands bc director Jack Clayton was also an ally and he did that for ME). Much of her appeal also lies in the fact that she often played deeply repressed characters and you know what's hot? When those uptight characters finally unravel. It's sexy. It's cathartic. It's erotic. Plus, she's beautiful to look at in both black & white and technicolor, and the more of her films you see, the more you can't help but fall in love!

Literally is in thee most famously sexy scene of all time (or maybe just during the hays code era which is what we're talking about HELLO), which is the beach scene with Burt Lancaster in from here to eternity. To quote a tumblr post of a screen capture of a tweet of a video of joy behar on the view: "y'know, there used to be movies where they were kissing on the beach... From Here to Eternity. They're kissing-- Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr are Kissing on the Beach and then the WAVES crash!! You know exactly what they did!"

She might have a reputation of being chaste and virginal or whatever, but we all know it's the quiet ones who are certifiable FREAKS

[countryclubkook]

Tight skirts and parties

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut. degradation, mean rafe, language, rafe calls himself daddy, pure filth, cream pies, no condom (it’s not mentioned but reader is on birth control), rafe thinks about making a sex tape, nicknames, if i need to any anything else please let me know! NSFW 18+ ONLY

Summary: When you show up to Rafe’s party wearing that tight little skirt and top he likes so much, he has to show you that you belong to him in every way possible.

do not copy, translate or repost my fics as if they are your own to any third party sites. all work on this page belongs to ME @countryclubkook. likes, comments, and reblogs here are always appreciated🤍

Rafe had pulled you into the bathroom faster than you expected. Sure you’d shown up to his party wearing that tight little skirt he loved so much and that top that fit you just right, but he barely lasted five minutes.

“You think you’re cute huh? You just want everyone to see what’s mine? Such a needy little whore, don’t worry baby, i’ll give you what you want so fucking bad” he’d whispered in your ear while undoing his belt and discarding his pants and boxers before pulling your skirt up. You waited for his reaction and then…

“No panties? What a naughty thing you are” a harsh slap against your ass and then to your pussy had you gripping the sink, your knuckles white.

“All I’m hearing is a whole lot of talk Cameron, maybe your dick just isn’t good enough so you have to stall” that was a lie, Rafe was the only person that ever made you cum until you were seeing stars, his cock was more than good enough, but it was fun to provoke him.

“Oh is that so? Should I take you back out to the party, fuck you like the dirty slut you are in front of everyone and let them all see how easily I wreck that pretty head and pussy of yours? Show them all that you’re mine” he’d shoved his cock inside your dripping hole at the last word he spoke causing you to let out a loud moan of surprise.

“Fuck Rafe, a little warning next time yeah?” you panted out. He only laughed and grabbed a fistful of your hair to pull your head back against his shoulder. His lips moved down your neck and to your shoulders before moving back up, right next to your ears, as he left marks all over your skin.

“You wanted this princess. You get no kind of warnings or mercy tonight, might even keep you here and treat you like a little fuck toy all night. How’s that sound?” the small whimper you let out and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him told him you loved the thought of that.

“Please Rafe, want it so bad” he’d managed to break you down into a begging and desperate mess in just one thrust.

“Begging already? So pathetic, one thrust,” another harsh thrust into your pussy “and you’re already begging to be used”

You tried to protest but his cock was hitting the perfect spot inside you making it hard to form any words. His grip on your hair was tight and your makeup had smudged significantly as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Rafe had his eyebrows furrowed together as he let out small groans at each snap of his hips, your mouth was hung open as whimpers fell out harmonizing with him. It was a filthy scene, the only sounds being heard were your moans mixed together, skin slapping, the wet filthy sounds of your pussy being fucked into tomorrow, if Rafe could have it filmed he would. Maybe he would the next time you had sex, he’d prop his phone up on his nightstand and record all the pretty faces and sounds you make while being used like a whore. Make sure to grab it and get nice and close to where his cock connected with your dripping hole and pull all the way out before teasing you with just the tip so he could hear you beg for it over and over again. But right now he needed to focus on the present moment and the fact that he was very close to filling you up with his cum.

“R-rafe” you squeaked, that knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter with each harsh thrust. His hand moved from your hair to your throat and squeezed it just tight enough to restrict your breathing, but not to the point it hurt you (more than you liked at least).

“Yeah? You close pretty girl, going to cum all over my cock and milk me dry?” his moaned into your ear loving the way you whimpered.

“Fuck! Yes” you whined out knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer.

“Fucking greedy whore. You want all my cum baby? Want me to fill you up so full and let you go back out there with my cum leaking down your thighs for everyone to see?” he lifted one of your legs to get deeper and you nearly collapsed from the new angle. He moved one hand to your hip and the other to right under your breasts, groping them roughly, to keep you standing.

“Please Rafe, need to cum so bad”

“Fucking cum then baby, make a mess for daddy” the nickname did something to you, sure you’d thought about calling him that and the two of you had lightly teased each other after you’d accidentally let it slip once, but it had never gone farther than that.

This orgasm felt different than ones you’d had before, it was longer and it made your head spin. You felt Rafe fill you up, the moaning from him making you even more dizzy than you were, before he gave a few more small thrusts and gently pulled out. You let a small gasp and whimper out at the now empty feeling and heard him chuckle in amazement.

“What’s so funny Cameron?” you turned around to look at him when you realized his thighs were soaked, your face instantly turned red in embarrassment. “Oh my god Rafe i’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I really didn’t mean to I-“ but he cut you off with a kiss.

“Baby, that was so. Fucking. Hot. You just squirted for me” excitement evident in his voice and you suddenly felt less embarrassed at what just happened.

“Oh yeah? You’ll have to make it happen again” you gave him a flirty wink before bending down to suck his cock clean.

“No need for that baby, there’s more important things needing to be done” the smirk on his face should have told you he was up to something, but you were still slightly too fucked out to care.

“And what would that be…daddy” you were pushing his limits, you should have known better.

“You’re going to go back out there and enjoy the party, you stay by my side the whole night, and you enjoy the feeling of my cum inside your needy cunt. If it starts to drip, you leave it there or so help me i’ll bend you over the fucking table in front of everyone here and fuck you full of cum over and over and over until you pass out from overstimulation. You’re staying here tonight baby, you’re all mine” your eyes went wide, his face was dead serious and you didn’t want to push anymore. You knew he’d make it hell for you later if you did.

“Yes sir” your voice was small as you nodded. He gave you a cocky smile and a gentle kiss before pulling your skirt down and walking you back out to the party.

“Yo Cameron! We’ve been waiting for you two to finish fucking, come check this out” Kelce hollered causing you to hide your face in your hands as embarrassment flooded over you. Rafe just gave you a smirk before hollering back.

“On my way man!” before dragging you over with him, his cum slowly starting to drip down your inner thighs. Fuck, you were in for a long night.