#i almost cried several times writing these words lol

[anthony-crowleys-left-nut]

i just got genuinely sad thinking about claudia and how it must have felt when she could see her relationship with lestat deteriorating. when they spent more and more time fighting and less and less loving each other, like the good times before when he'd spoil her, go out to hunt with her, teach her to drive. i hope when she saw his face in that last exchange of looks they made, she at least knew that he loved her. i don't even wish that in a hope to redeem lestat in her eyes (even as a lestat lover), i just wish that for her. cause i know she had to have carried an emotional wound from their relationship even if she wouldn't admit it. as someone who once had a terrible relationship with their parent, i still carry mine to this day, and learning that he did give a fuck about me in times when i swore he didn't actually did mean something. that's all i want for claudia in that final look. so much of her anger had to have stemmed from genuine hurt, and to have that hurt assuaged even just a little bit... she deserved that much at the very least.

[romana-after-dark]

Ignore if it’s too gross:

But what about poor reader being so terrified of logan while he’s non conning her that she wets herself?

Wet

Taglist Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: as stated above lol

Warnings: piss kink! non con! crying! Mild feet! Almost sufficating!!! Reference to the school but reader is not a student. IDK the lore its a short peice but thats NOT whats happening. Still dark af tho so dont read if thats not your thing.

AN: this essentially the same thing as Cry Harder with Joel so if you love joely, give 'er a go.

A/N: Also anon, its not gross!!!! I dont do this big ones like incest, bestiality or incest ofc, and theres other stuff i dont write but also long as its isnt those first three i aint gonna be pressed. Send away! You're so sweet for asking!!!

450 words

************

He had to shove your face into the mattress before you woke up the whole school.

"Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!" Logan growls, flipping you onto your stomach when you were crying too loud. He couldn't have anyone hearing what he was doing to you, but fuck he couldn't take it anymore, the way you pranced around in those tight little tops and hot pants on and up. You wanted this. So why the fuck were you crying?

Face down, Logan pressed your face into the mattress with his foot on your head while his strong arm wraps around your middle to pull you up, cock stretching you open. You could feel his balls slapping against your pussy with every thrust, sobbing into your blankets as he fucked your powerless body. There was nothing to do but cry.

But Logan didn't like that.

"Jesus fucking christ!" He growls, slapping your ass to make you shut up but that just made you yelp more. Logan he wasn't going to let you ruin this for him. He wasn't going to let a warm cunt fuck up by having a mouth. If he was caught, it'd be all over for him.

Logan shifts he weight, leaning more on the foot on your head and shoving you in deeper, and finally your cries were muffled. Even though you were screaming now, body writhing in panic he wasn't stopping, not when he was this close. You were so fucking wet, so fucking warm and fuck, so fucking tight... Fear did that like nothing else.

You pulse around him, contractions of fear rather than an orgasm, and he was about to cum inside you. So fucking close. Ball drawing up, he was growing sick of your screams. You didn't need to fucking breath all the time, you were getting enough air, he was sure. Just being dramatic.

"I said, shut the fuck UP!" Logan punctuated his final word by punching down on the mattress, extending his blades with a *ssshing!*.

A blood curdling scream Logan was sure would be ear piercing if he wasn't half sufficating you erupts into the bed, and suddenly his cock is flooded with a warm liquid. You didn't cum. It sprays out around his dick as it rams into you for a final few times, spreading down both your legs and his as Logan groans, head dropped back in pleasure. So good, so fucking good.

Balls emptied inside you, Logan finally pulls himself out of you and your hips fall to the bed as your face rises, gasping for air.

Logan pulls on his jeans and heads towards the door.

"Quit being so fucking dramatic."

********

Thanks for reading!!!!

Im loving writing Logan. I've gotten several Logan asks on either account and please keep coming! you might get a paragraph, a few paragraphs, or a fic. WHo knows!

If you like triple frontier or tlou, please consider chcking out my other stuff!!

Dont be afraid to join my taglist or follow @romana-updates

@del-ightfulling @hornystan

[misc-obeyme]

Couples Discount! - Secret Scene

Well, I shouldn't be surprised I guess. My "should I post the smut?" poll had some pretty definitive results. It's not yet over, but really I don't think I need to wait for it. Y'all voted for the smut.

I would like to begin by apologizing for my smut writing skills. I'm not at all confident in them, which is why this is the first time I'm really posting any.

So this is the secret smut scene that would come after the end of this daily chat scene I wrote, though you don't really need to read it before this. This right here is pure smut, so you know. Context isn't really required.

Please tell me if it's terrible. My anxiety is high so I need to know if it's really bad lol. Also I really tried to keep MC gender neutral so hopefully that turned out okay.

GN!MC x Diavolo - NSFW - MDNI

Warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex (reader receiving in both cases), please let me know if I should add anything here

Any thoughts you'd been having about the repercussions of the kiss you shared with Diavolo on the plaza bench were completely discarded now. You sat on the edge of Diavolo's bed with the demon prince on his knees between your thighs and thinking wasn't something you'd managed to do at all for the past several minutes.

One of your hands was in Diavolo's hair, the other one gripping the sheets beside you as you melted into the feeling of his tongue, his lips, his mouth giving you untold amounts of pleasure. He had placed one of your legs on his shoulder and his hand still rested on it. You could tell from the way his fingers flexed against you that he was trying not to grip you too hard.

You hadn't been sure what spending the night with Diavolo would be like, but so far he seemed to want nothing more than to worship you. He especially seemed to enjoy hearing you moan, deliberately doing things that he thought might draw one out of you.

You were slightly annoyed about the fact that he himself was still fully dressed while your clothes were already in a heap on the floor. However, you couldn't hold onto this thought for long enough to call him out on it. Not when he was using his tongue so expertly, the tension building up in your body as your pleasure intensified with every second.

It was almost teasing, though, never quite enough to bring you over the edge. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair in both frustration and enjoyment.

"D-diavolo," you managed to say. "Please."

That single word apparently had quite the effect because Diavolo responded immediately. Where before he was only using his tongue, now he put his entire mouth on you. There was so much more sensation that you cried out, the hand in his hair becoming a fist. You had a vague thought about how you hoped you weren't hurting him, but it was gone in an instant as Diavolo sucked.

You moaned, unable to keep yourself from doing so, the feeling building and building. Diavolo didn't let up. He could tell you were close and he was determined to make you come. You felt your thighs shivering, squeezing slightly as the intensity increased.

Your body began to tense as you felt yourself nearing your climax until it finally hit you in waves. You couldn't even manage to spare a thought for what might be happening to Diavolo as your thighs clenched, your fingers still holding tightly to his hair.

You took several deep breaths as you let yourself relax. You let go of Diavolo's hair. He looked up at you from between your thighs with a smile so bright you couldn't help but laugh a little.

You cupped his cheek as you caught your breath, bending forward a little to lean your forehead against his. "You have way too much clothing on," you said, pulling at one of the buttons on his shirt with the other hand.

Diavolo chuckled. "I'm sorry, MC," he said. "Won't you help me remedy that?"

He didn't have to ask you twice. You started using both hands to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. You let your hands linger on his bare chest, truly a glorious sight to behold, before reaching down for the pants. But in the position he was in, you couldn't quite reach them.

Diavolo kissed you before standing up to take his pants off himself. You watched as he did, finally freeing his enormous cock. Just looking at it made your skin flush and your body throb as your mind went wild with the possibilities.

It was very tempting to take it into your mouth, since it was right at the same height as your face. But you were more interested in putting it somewhere else.

Despite this, you couldn't resist reaching out and taking it in your hand. Diavolo made a soft humming sound at the contact and you looked up to see him biting his lip.

It was such a cute expression on him that it made your stomach flip. You found yourself suddenly impatient, letting go so you could grab his hands and pull him onto the bed.

Diavolo let you take control, moving easily as you positioned him so he was sitting up against his pillows. Once he was where you wanted him, you straddled his lap, putting your hands on his chest and kissing him deeply.

His mouth opened for you instantly, your tongue sliding in and tasting the salt of your cum on him. You tried not to let this make you rabid. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands running through his hair again, your ass rubbing against the hardness of his cock.

You pulled away and looked at him. He was breathing hard with his pupils fully dilated. He looked like he was dizzy with lust, but there was an edge of concern on his face. He reached over to the bedside table, taking out a bottle of lube.

Certainly Diavolo was quite large, so you thought it best not to skip this step, even though the look on his face sent another stab of heat through your body. He slathered his fingers and you gasped as he put first one and then another inside you, stretching you gently.

Diavolo took his time and you were losing your mind with need by the time he pulled his fingers out of you. You put your hands on his shoulders and rose up, preparing to take him inside.

"MC," he said, voice quiet as he settled his hands on your hips.

You didn't let him finish whatever he was going to say, instead sinking down onto his cock. This elicited a moan that was like sweet music to your ears and he practically whimpered your name.

You decided to go slowly, moving down inch by inch until you had him fully inside you.

The feeling of him was exquisite. Your body flushed with heat as you squeezed yourself around him and he moaned. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips tighter.

Diavolo nuzzled into your neck, peppering you with kisses. "Are you all right?" he murmured into your skin.

"Don't worry," you said. "I'm fine." You tangled your fingers in his hair again, holding him to you as you began to move yourself slowly up and down his cock.

Diavolo's head rested on your shoulder and for a moment he seemed too overwhelmed by the sensation to do much of anything. But then his hands began to move you, too, increasing your pace. You matched him easily, speeding things up, but sitting down fully every time, allowing him to hit that spot inside you perfectly over and over.

Diavolo seemed to be unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you, but you didn't mind at all, moaning in response to the feeling of it. Diavolo's hands moved from your waist to your back, his head falling a little to press against your chest. Both of you were moaning now and you could already feel the tension of your second orgasm tightening in your belly.

It felt so good, you were completely lost in him, your hands roaming over his skin, the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and sex. The feeling of him inside you, thick and powerful, the way his hands moved you so easily, the desperate sounds of him mumbling your name over and over again.

Until at last, you felt yourself tightening, your body responding to the pleasure. You cried out his name as you came, your hands on his shoulders, your nails piercing skin, your head thrown back.

As you were just beginning to come down from this high, you felt him clutch you hard, a soft groan from his throat, and the warmth of his cum spilling inside you.

Exhausted, you collapsed against him. Diavolo's arms wrapped around you, holding you to him as you rested your head on his chest.

This was only the beginning of your infamous night with Lord Diavolo and you would be pleased to discover just how much stamina the prince of the Devildom really had.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[buckysgrace]

Hiii, omg ur taking requests?? i LOVE ur writing sm aghh 😍😍❤️❤️ would u write part 2 to think about me? i adored it sm maybe the reader is sick (she has a fever and really bad cough) but is very horny so she calls gator who’s at work rn but he promises he comes as soon as he can? also her relationship with gator is secret and he comes over when her parents are gone with her little brothers for the weekend and gator takes care of her and also she’s so clingy? <3 and when she vomits in front of him she cries and is so embarrassed…

Part two to Think About Me (but could be read as a standalone lol)

Hope you enjoy! And thank you for enjoying my writing!! <3

CW: Age gap (reader is 20, gator is 27), mentions of smut but no actual smut, Gator being very sweet does that count??

Your relationship with Gator was, surprisingly, nice. He was sweet, brought you pretty flowers and your favorite chocolates. He messaged you first thing in the morning and before you went to bed. He was perfect. You were both perfect. Other than the fact that it had to be hidden.

Your father had made that clear on your birthday. The Tillman's had been invited over and apparently there had been enough tension between you and Gator to raise suspicions from your parents. Suddenly you were too young, too naive to have a boyfriend. You thought it was ridiculous.

You were excited for this weekend, having many things planned out for you and Gator. Your entire family would be gone. Some out of state football game happening for one of your brothers. You had feigned sickness.

Only that had seemed to be your downfall as the early Saturday hours slowly drifted into the afternoon. Your cough worsened, becoming more severe as your cheeks grew hot and sweaty. You brushed it aside, sure that it was your hard work from cleaning so furiously.

"Hello," The raspy voice on the other end of the line drew out playfully, bringing a smile to your lips as you sniffled again, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You said quickly, already hearing the worry in his tone, "Just some allergies. Do you think you could bring me something when you get off of work?"

"What kind of somethin'?" He teased, making you shift deeper into the couch as a giddy feeling spread through you. It was almost enough to make you neglect the sense of sickness you'd felt.

You thought of the habit he had to sneak into your room when everyone else was asleep, of all the sweet nights you'd had together. He liked kissing you. He liked kissing you everywhere. You were tingly at the thought once again.

"Don't know," You giggled softly as you curled up on the couch, smiling as you felt a rush of pleasure form between your legs at his words, "Something to make me feel better."

"I got the perfect cure for ya, baby doll," He teased, making you feel like you had thousands of butterflies spreading through your stomach, "Can you last a few more hours without me?"

"Mhm," You drew out softly, excited as you glanced back towards the kitchen. You had a crockpot full of chili on and had plans to make cinnamon rolls once he got closer. He liked those, especially when you added raisins to them, "I'll be waiting here for you."

Your plans became even more disrupted as your symptoms grew worse. You piled under blankets and blankets, unable to stop shivering despite how hot your face was. Every time you began to doze off your rough coughing awoke you, your lungs burning from the sensation.

"Hey," Gator's voice awoke you this time around, making your eyes snap open as you quickly sat up. He guided you slowly, holding onto your shoulders as you glanced at the time, "You alright?"

"I overslept," You wheezed out, sighing as you began to couch roughly once again, "Sorry. I was gonna make cinnamon rolls and-," You began to stand but gator gripped your shoulders and quickly sat you back down. You nodded your head, feeling like the house was spinning a little bit.

"You sick?" He mumbled as he brought his palm up against your forehead, then dragged it against your cheeks. You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders, "Where's the thermometer?"

"Um," You paused as you thought about it, "It's in the kitchen drawer. The second to the left." You said, sure of your answer. It hadn't been too long since you had to use it on one of your brothers.

Gator paused, pulling his paper bag open for a moment before he handed you a bag of cough drops and some nighttime cough syrup. You wrinkled your nose, thinking about how disgusting it would taste. You were still grateful though.

He gripped your chin softly with one hand when he approached again, then used the other to slide the thermometer under your tongue. You stared up at him, admiring the concentrated look on his features.

"Bite down," He instructed, making you blink in surprise before you did as he asked. He smirked a little, looking a little cocky as he flicked his eyes from your features and back to the numbers on the screen. He whistled, making your eyes snap up to him, "I'm gonna get you something to bring that down." He mumbled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen again.

"I made us chili," You replied, feeling like it wasn't that big of a deal to have a little fever, "I thought we could watch a movie. I got new pajamas too."

"You did?" He approached again, wearing a smile this time as he placed some pills in one of your palms and a glass of water in the other, "Drink that." You nodded along, doing what he instructed in hopes that you would feel better.

"I wanted it to be a good night," You replied, doing your best to keep from pouting as he unwrapped a cough drop for you next, "Thanks." You said softly as you popped it in your mouth, sucking on it a few times before you began to chew on it. It was a habit. You couldn't help it.

"It still can be," He mentioned offhandedly, as he brushed his fingers across your cheek, "I'll get us chili. You sit here. Uh, here." He paused as he handed you the remote, sending you a soft smile before he went on his way.

Your stomach twisted at the thought of food, so you set your bowl aside and curled up against him instead. He held you close, keeping his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you in tightly.

Your felt a little better curled up to his side, head resting against his shoulder as you drifted in and out of sleep. He was warm, giving you that comfort you needed as he held onto you close. Occasionally you'd hear him chuckle, which you hoped had to do with whatever he was watching and not the fact that you were sure you were snoring.

A cold sweat woke you up this time, making you pull away from Gator as your stomach twisted and turned in odd directions. You glanced at him for just a moment, noticing that he had somehow slipped into his sleep clothes at some point.

"You alright?" He asked as he brushed his palm across your back, rubbing softly as a bitter taste filled your mouth. You felt your eyes widen as you quickly stood, tripping over your own feet as you stumbled into the bathroom.

You made it just in time as you emptied the contents from your stomach into the toilet. You continued to gag for a moment, wishing that you could've shut the door first.

You felt his hands on your back before you heard his sweet reassurances. You held onto the counter for a moment, trying to catch your breath as you suddenly felt hot tears against your cheeks. This was not how you wanted your night with him to go.

"Hey," His voice was soft and warm, smooth like sugar as he continued to rub at your back. It was a little too hard, like he didn't know what he was doing, "It's alright. Just a little puke." He replied, like it was no big deal.

You wiped your mouth, sniffling as you flushed the toilet and sat back on your knees for a moment. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, listening to the sound of gagging from next to you.

"Fuck," Gator replied as he held his palm over his mouth, shaking his head quickly, "I'm sorry. Shit. Fuck, I'm fine. Really." He nodded his head, but looked a little pale as he rubbed at your back.

"You're fine," You replied as you sniffled, laughing once again as you shook your head, "I understand. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that." You sighed as you stood onto shaky knees, gripping your toothbrush before you scrubbed your mouth clean.

"How about-," He began slowly as he adjusted your pajama shirt, covering up your exposed skin as his eyes met yours in the mirror, "I run a bath for you. How does that sound?"

You paused as you spit into the sink, satisfied that you could only taste mint as you slowly stood to look at him again. You nodded your head, feeling a little shy suddenly as he guided you upstairs.

His hand was warm in yours, strong as he held onto you tightly. Once you were inside the bathroom he got the water to the desired temperature before he slowly stripped you down.

His eyes still wandered, but not in a suggestive way. He admired you, making your heart thump roughly against your bones as he helped you into the tub.

You sank down into the water, sighing at the way the hot water massaged your tense muscles. Gator stood back for just a moment before he crawled in behind you.

He hummed softly before he pulled you back against him, pulling you close as he pressed his chest against your back. It was intimate, far more intimate than the times he'd been buried between your legs. You'd never had him be this sweet before, this caring.

You supposed your night wasn't all that bad after all.

[fairy-writes]

Hello! It’s my first time here and I just checked out the rules but let me know if messed up. Can I get jouno and Tecchou (if you write for him) with a Reader who acts like Makima? Minus the way she is with Denji since he’s a minor.

I hope this makes sense but I might be requesting more csm characters (Fixating on chainsaw man and Tecchou + Jouno at the same time )

CONTROL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Saigiku Jouno x Reader

Suehiro Tecchou x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Reader is shorter than both Jouno and Tecchou, Mentions of blood and gore

Notes: Since there are multiple characters, I’m doing HCs :)

I also haven’t read Chainsaw Man since the first arc ended, so I’m bound to get some stuff wrong. I’m using her Wiki page as a crutch, lol.

Also also, I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret your request, so I just gave Reader Makima’s powers :) (I tried giving the reader her personality, but I liked the personality the reader got instead, so it’s what I’m rolling with)

__________________________________________________________________________

Saigiku Jouno

You were a fascinating case to Jouno. 

You were the newest member of the Hunting Dogs, having been recruited by Captain Fukuchi after being a member of a black market organization not unlike the Port Mafia. 

Just… with less influence and money.

You were the resident interrogator of said organization, so it was no surprise that your expertise transitioned to the Hunting Dogs. 

It was also no surprise that, seeing as you were so good at your job, that you got along well with Jouno. 

So well, in fact, it was almost scary, according to the rest of the Hunting Dogs. 

Your Ability was also fascinating to him. To be able to control someone like that… He feared the day that it might be used on him. 

“Are you done yet?” Jouno knocks on the interrogation room door and peeks his head inside. He can hear the sounds of your victim gasping for air. 

“Almost. Just a few more moments, and I’ll have everything I need.” Comes your voice, and he huffs, 

“It’s taking you forever.” He says conversationally and hears the person you were “talking to” whimper as you shift in place. 

The sound of cracking bones fills the air, and the person cries out in agony. 

“Oh hush, I’m doing exactly what I’m told.” You shoot back, and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re just having fun, aren’t you?” At that, you laugh. 

“Oh, but of course!” He hangs his head and chuckles but leaves you to your work. He takes his post outside the door and just listens. 

Sounds of begging and crying get on his nerves, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows you’re getting what you want. Even if no one else can understand what’s being said, you can. And that’s all that matters. 

Soon enough, you step out of the interrogation room. Jouno can hear the rustling of fabric and the squishing of liquid as you wipe fluids off your hands. The scent of iron is strong, and he knows that you must’ve used your ability to extract any information you needed for your reports. 

“All done?” He asks and hears you whip out your phone. 

“Sure am. That’s the last one for today, too.” You say, and the typing noise coming from your phone lets him know that you’re likely texting Fukuchi to get the mess cleaned up. 

You were always very messy. 

Your shorter legs skip to keep up with his, and he slows his stride so you aren’t running just to keep up with him. Jouno can hear the passing of several cleanup workers and figures by the path you’re taking that you’re on your way to your room. 

He barely waits a moment before kicking off his boots as per your request, shutting the door behind him, and following you with socked feet into the ensuite bathroom. He can hear your clothes drop to the floor, but embarrassment was a thing of the past between you two.

The shower turns on, and you barely wait a moment before stepping under the stream of water. Meanwhile, Jouno picks up your bloodied uniform and steps out of the bathroom to find you new clothes. Your dorm room at the Hunting Dogs Headquarters is as familiar as his own. Everything is perfectly in place. Your clothes are color-coded from dark to light, your bed is neatly made, and it all smells of the mint room spray you use. 

Everything in your dorm is perfectly controlled. Hell, Jouno might even be part of that. But he can’t bring himself to care all that much. 

Suehiro Tecchou

This is a similar backstory to Jouno’s HCs :) 

You were formerly part of a criminal organization that is now a part of the Hunting Dogs. 

But the difference in this is that you are watched by Tecchou instead of Jouno (duh, Fairy, get to the writing already!)

That being the main change, how you go about your interrogation is incredibly different. 

Tecchou teaches you to be gentle with your victims. 

Well… As gentle as your ability can be. 

You went for more mental manipulation rather than physical this time. 

You’re already waiting for Tecchou by the time he arrives to escort you to your office to finish your reports. The door to the interrogation room is shut, but he can hear the sounds of someone crying inside. As iron-willed as he is, it still makes his heart ache. 

At least you didn’t break them physically. That’s what Jouno would’ve done and he had always hated his fellow Hunting Dog’s cruel tactics.

“Did you get everything you needed?” He asked, and you hummed, nodding absentmindedly.

“Of course I did.” You say simply and he jerks his head for you to follow him. You do so without complaint. Teruko passes you two with a wave as she goes to escort the victim to the vans where he’ll be transported to prison until his trial. 

You report to Captain Fukuchi while Tecchou waits outside the door. Soon enough, you are dismissed and hold Tecchou’s hand as you head back to your shared dorm. The scent of juniper fills his nose, and he finds himself relaxing in your presence. 

You always did have this effect on him. Whether it was your Ability or not was unknown, but he didn’t care to find out. If you controlled him, you controlled him. He didn’t mind. 

[whore-era]

clockwork

joel miller x fem!reader

smut, angst, slight fluff

summary: in which you open up about your trauma to joel. in turn, he shows you how much he cares for you, in more ways than one.

warnings: discussion of abandonment issues/trauma, minor discussion of familial death, mentions malnutrition/hypothermia, reader experiences a panic attack

contains smut: kissing, fingering

minors, those under 18, do not interact/read this fanfic. 18+ only.

(let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes)

a/n: hiii so this is my first time in a very long time writing fanfiction, especially smut! so im very open to constructive criticism and feedback :))) please let me know if u enjoy this and would like more from me!! also i got this idea from my boyfriend (bless his heart) so LOL the plot might be weird but anyways enjoy &lt;3

word count: 2,185

clockwork. it was like clockwork the way your body forced you awake every night.

every night, you woke up from your sleep and turned around to face joel. you placed your hand on his chest, on his heart, and counted his heartbeat for a full minute. after then, you would be reassured that he’s okay. he’s alive. he’s with you. 

of course, he’s never woken up when you did this. and you wanted to keep it that way. it would be embarrassing if he found out what you did, and it’d be too much to explain why you needed to do it in the first place. 

this routine began when you first landed in jackson. 

covered in thick grime and muck, you passed out on the soft snow in front of the town’s gates. maria told you that the guards thought you were one of the infected and almost took you down. she was the one who approached your unconscious body first.

your skin was pallor, and you were thin and weak. they didn’t even know if you’d make it through the night, as malnourishment and hypothermia had overtaken you severely. it took you almost three weeks to fully recover, well, in the physical sense. 

the horrors of what you experienced outside those gates stuck with you. you developed a fear of being alone. of course, being alone for almost a year would do that to someone. the uneasy silence, the feeling of nothingness, and the thought of being abandoned again is what distresses you.

pushing those fears to the side, you imagined they could be conquered if you just put yourself out there again. 

this was how you fell in love with the infamous joel miller.

known as jackson’s dedicated grump, you’ve always had an eye for the older, reserved miller brother. it wasn’t until he strolled into the town’s clinic with a scratched-up face and a bruised shoulder that you realized he was not as bad as everyone sought him out to be.

on a weekly basis, he came in with a gash or a mark that needed tending to, which always led to a small, conversation as you intently fixed him up. joel finally mustered up the courage to ask you on a proper date on one of those days, which led you right to this moment. 

staring at the clock. 

the red glow of the number ‘3:00’ luminesced against your face. uneasiness settled into your stomach. 

it was like your body could sense something was off. there wasn’t usually a silence, you could always hear the soft breaths of sleep coming from joel, even when you’re facing away from him. but there was nothing.

with apprehension, you turned over. to your terror, joel’s spot beside you was vacant. the outline of his figure dented into the soft mattress beneath you. 

the air sucked out of your lungs. “j-joel?”, you called out. nothing. “jo-joel? are you in there?”

your body acted before your mind did, and you got up. you walked over to the bathroom to check if he was in there. empty.

you struggled to breathe and your eyes shot around the room, frantically checking signs of his presence in the space around you. 

“joel!”, you cried out, “joel!”

was joel okay? where was he? did he leave? did he need you? what if he needed help?

you didn’t know when the room began spinning, or when your heart began to beat faster, all you cared about was knowing if joel was okay.

you needed to know.

tears flooded your eyes. you didn’t know if he was in danger, or if he needed your help, and you felt useless. 

“sorry, lovebug, tommy came knockin’ on the door to cancel tomorrow’s patrol-”, joel made eye contact, concern immediately veiling his face. “hey, baby, what’s wrong?” 

he rushed over to where you were standing, his hands cupping your cheeks and searching your face for any signs of injury. your glossy eyes looked up at him, and your hands went over to cup his neck, slowly trailing down to his chest. even beneath the soft fabric of his shirt, you could feel joel’s heart.

one, two, three, four, five, si-

“baby? what are you doin’?”

“i-i need to check,” your voice came out shaky, tears rolling down your cheeks, “i need to check i-if you’re o-okay, that you’re actually a-alive.”

joel’s eyes softened, and his arms wrapped around your frame. your face buried into him, ear against his chest, and you could hear it. his heart. beating rhythmically. beating for you.

and finally, that was when you felt the air enter back into your lungs. you let out a choked sob that you were holding in. the tears came flooding. the sounds of your cries muffled against his warm body and you held him tight, afraid that he would slip away from you. 

leading you both towards the edge of the bed, joel sat you both down and he held you into him tighter, gently rocking you back and forth as you cried.

joel had an idea that you were holding some things back from him. he knew that there were some wounds that had yet to heal. 

it was evident in the way you hesitated and held your tongue whenever the topic of your family came up or when people asked how you ended up all alone in the first place. joel could tell you saw some things out there, things that visited you in your nightmares. but he never wanted to pry, he knew eventually that you would open up to him, as he did when you asked about sarah. 

joel pulled away, looking down at your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “i’m okay, darlin’,” he cooed, “i’m right here. always will be.”

you nodded, “i k-know, i just had to check.”

his eyes met yours, “is that why you been doin’ that thing every night?”

you closed your eyes in embarrassment. unbeknownst to you, joel had in fact been awake to know that you check his heartbeat every night. you wanted nothing more than to burrow into the earth’s darkness and never come out, but you know you had to eventually tell joel. you just didn’t think it’d be so soon. 

calm and relaxed, you nodded, “yes.”

“why, baby?” 

fiddling with your fingers and taking a deep breath, you looked up into his brown eyes. “because…i used to be scared of being alone. a year before i ended up here, in jackson, i was with my mom and my older sister.”

your voice began to shake and you felt your eyes brimming with tears. joel’s hands held onto yours as you spoke. “we ran away from the QZ in utah. it was a terrible place. so my mom took me and my sister and we left in the middle of the night. while we were camped out in the forest, they went to go hunting for food, and told me to wait,” you started crying again, “i waited for 8 days.”

joel’s heart sank. the realization hit him, you were alone for a year before showing up here. 

“i ended up trying to go back to the QZ in utah, but i saw them. they were both gone. i guess soldiers from the QZ were sent to find my mom. she was the only doctor there, and she was valuable. but instead they just..killed them,” you whispered the last part, closing your eyes, “my mom and my sister died so we could escape. so, i just continued on by myself until i ended up here.”

joel, heartbroken, took you in his arms once again, holding onto you tight. it made sense to him now. all the times he saw you, you were always with someone. you just needed to physically be present and with another person, to make you forget the horrors of what happened.

“i’m so sorry, angel,” joel spoke into your hair, giving your head a small kiss, “but you’ll never be alone again, not as long as you’re here with me.”

you pulled away and looked up at him, “joel,” you hesitated, “ever since i met you, my fear of being alone turned into fear of losing you.”

your confession made joel’s heart skip a beat. “i love you, joel.”

your lips gently made their way toward his and your arms encircled his neck. you both kiss each other with softness and sweetness until a whimper escapes the back of your throat, craving more. craving him. 

joel pulls away, afraid he might be going too fast with you especially after you just opened up about something so personal and traumatic, “maybe we can continue this tomorrow, sweetheart. should get some sleep.”

“i don’t want to sleep just yet,” your eyes searching his face, “i want to just..i want to feel you. i want to be with you. i want to be here with you.” 

you both look at each other for a second, before your lips crash into each others again. your tongue rubbed against his, gaining a deep moan from joel. his hands went to your hips, where he hoisted you up onto his lap and stood up, your legs wrapping around his waist. your lips made their way towards his neck, peppering soft kisses down his jawline and sucking softly above his collarbone. 

“let me make you feel good. i just want to feel you,” you kissed down his chest as your feet untangled from around his waist, your legs standing up. your hands went down to the waistband of his pajama pants and you went to kneel down before him, before he stopped you.

“no, darlin’. let me make you feel good,” joel pushed you against the bed, your back landing on the soft blankets, "tonight is gonna be about you."

he laid next to you, his lips meeting yours with one hand going over the curves of your body. his hand hovered over your breast, his fingers rubbing and pinching at your nipple. you whimpered against his lips, wetness pooling in your panties.

“god, you’re ’s gorgeous,” he whispered against your lips. his hands trailed down to the edge of your panties. you bucked your hips up, your body needing release. “please, joel.” you begged, spreading your legs apart. 

“please, what?” 

“please touch me.”

“touch you where?” 

“please, touch my pussy.”

“atta girl.” joel’s hands went inside your panties, his fingers rubbing at the entrance of your slit, soaking them up. “look at you. soaking wet, all for me.” you nodded, “all for you.”

joel’s fingers spread your pussy, and he used one to rub on your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you. he smirked, and rubbed your soaking clit in soft circles, the slick sound of the wetness echoing throughout the room. 

he added a second finger, building the pressure on your pussy. “let me hear you, sweet girl,” he cooed as his fingers did figure 8’s against your clit. a moan escaped your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back in pleasure. 

“that’s my sweet girl.”

joel added a third finger, massaging your sopping, wet pussy. “yes, joel, god yes.”

his fingers went down to your entrance, your juices leaking out from you. joel inserted two fingers, gently pumping them in and out of you. they were sliding in and out so easily, lubricated with your sweet, sweet wetness. 

“fuck, baby, you feel so good,” joel murmured, curling his fingers inside of you. oh god, you could pass out any second. you felt lightheaded, drowning in immense pleasure. 

as joel’s thick fingers were sliding in and out of your pussy, the pad of his thumb began slow and soft circles against your swollen clit. you felt the orgasm begin to build in your stomach. 

“oh my god, joel, i’m gonna-“ his pace began to go a little faster, “yes, baby, stay like that.” you breathed out.

“go ‘head, sweet girl,” joel whispered softly, “cum for me.” your pussy tightened around his fingers, and a wave of ecstasy washed over you as your juices poured over his hand.

joel’s hand came up to his mouth and he sucked his fingers clean, making your face heat up. he quickly got up and told you to stay put, and he left and came back with a towel, cleaning you up.

getting into bed, joel put the duvet over both of your bodies. you laid down on his chest, with him wrapping his arm around you and his hand stroking your hair. 

“angel?”

“hm?”, you hummed, looking up at him. his eyes were already on you with a look of adoration. 

“i love you, more than you know,” joel whispered, “and you’ll never lose me, as long as you’ll have me.” 

and with that, he kissed you on top of your head and laid his head back, closing his eyes to fall back into slumber. 

you, in turn, closed your eyes to sleep. finally feeling at peace and confidence, knowing that you’ll always have joel miller with you, at your side. 

[rems-writing]

Tall manwich

@yourfatherlucifer yes there's a two-for-one deal for these fics. Plus, I need to write in features other than the characters from OUAT. So thanks for this. Also, thanks for the title name lol

Trope: dancer!Yunho x chauffeur!reader featuring dancer!BM

BM is a kpop solo artist who is also part of the group KARD.

Includes: gn!reader, mention of a size kink but it won't be overly sexual, slight angst, reader being cursed at by fans, reader gets hurt, mentions of blood, protective Yunho and BM

I wanna point that not all fans are like this! But this is the unfortunate reality idols must face every day. ENJOY THE FIC NONETHELESS :D

Another day, another dollar, and another batch of fans swarming around you and Yunho. The bodyguards were actually doing their job well!

These fans just like being bold. That's it.

They went from yelling and complaining to actual punching the bodyguards in their arms with their weak fists. You didn't understand how rowdy a celebrity's fans were until you were hired by Yunho's manager to drive him everywhere he goes.

From the grocery store to the studio he dances in, you had the routine on lockdown. You just had to get used to the fact that fans have nothing to do with their time other than find out where Yunho will be at this point in time of the day. As you kept your head down and walked alongside Yunho, the swarm of fans decided to switch tactics.

By aiming for you.

They pointed their cameras at you, called you names, cussed you out, told you to stay away from their beloved Jeong Yunho, and even resorted to physical violence.

From pulling on your hair

To straight up punching you

They laughed and called you weak as you doubled over in pain yet you kept walking. The bodyguards noticed and they became twice as aggressive in shoving the fans backwards. Yunho noticed and he tried to help but you held your hand up and reassured him that you were fine.

That broke Yunho's heart.

Ever since you got hired as his chauffeur, you've been receiving nothing but utter shit. From the fans and even down to some of his staff. The bodyguards were ok with you. He knew you could handle yourself yet he still felt this need to protect you. You've done so much for him. He wanted to give back.

After arriving at the venue, he saw you dart off to the nearest medical staff to have your wounds treated and his heart hurt even more. He refused to go with staff to get his hair and makeup done and even stood in the middle of the venue.

Yunho never got angry. He was the sweetest man alive. However, after seeing you get hurt, he wasn't feeling sweet right now. Some of the staff tried to coax him into the dressing room with fake reassurance that you were fine, but one glare from him had their words dying down in their throat and dispersing so he could be left alone. His manager saw this and asked gently if Yunho wanted to see you, to which he gave one simple nod firm to. His manager pointed to a room with a red cross sign hanging above the door, indicating you were in there. His long legs strided over to the room and he walked in.

You got punched in the face. Specifically, right on your mouth. Your lip was busted and split open but it wasn't severe enough to where your teeth were falling out nor were you spitting up blood. Yunho admired your strong will yet almost cried when he saw how disheveled you looked. You always made sure to look your best and thanks to those fans, your hard work was ruined.

Your hair was all over the place, your suit was wrinkled and stained due to a fan purposefully spilling a beverage on you, and your hands were shaking. It was a sign that your anxiety raised. Yunho immediately rushed over to you and held your hands gently. They practically disappeared underneath his huge hands and you looked at him with misty eyes. You were on the verge of crying.

He didn't like that.

"Shh. It's ok, bub. You'll be ok." Yunho reassured you quietly as he kissed your forehead. He cared for you so much. It made you wonder what you did to deserve it. Another presence entered the room and the both of you looked up to see another man and his staff.

"I was told you were in here. Are they ok?" The new man asked as he nodded at you. Yunho smiled slightly before nodding.

"They will be, BM."

BM, or Big Matthew, was a longtime friend of Yunho's. They used to be dance rivals, but tonight, they share the stage together. As BM sat down beside you, he beckoned his staff over to fix up your hair so it wouldn't get in the way of your face and the blood from your lip wouldn't stain it. He got a good look at you and his eyes widened in familiarity.

"No fucking way! Y/N L/N?!"

You smiled weakly as BM said your name with such enthusiasm.

"Hi, Matty. It's been a long time." You said shyly and he hugged you tightly yet carefully. Yunho was confused as to how BM knew you. BM saw the confusion on Yunho's face and he explained it to him.

"We used to go to elementary school together. They would protect me from my bullies."

Yunho smiled to himself as he envisioned a tiny version of you fending off this man's bullies when he was younger.

"By the time we got to middle school, we broke apart. I moved cities and never saw them again. Until today!"

BM's and Yunho's smiles were so bright that you thought you were going to go blind. You forgot your pain and recalled memories of you and BM in your youth while BM's staff fixed your hair and even picked out casual clothes for you to change into so they could iron your suit.

Alas, it was time for them to go on stage. You decided to stay in the medical room and watch from a monitor that the venue's employees provided you with. You wished them the best of luck.

---------------------------------------------------

The show ended and it was time for you to drive both Yunho and BM back to the hotel. BM happened to stay in the same hotel as Yunho and even stayed on the same floor! He just had a different room of course.

After changing into your suit and putting on a face mask so you could cover your busted lip, you waited for the two men to arrive. Once they did, you proceeded to go out first but Yunho held you back.

You were now sandwiched in between these two tall buildings God called men. Your face heated up due to being flustered upon seeing the sheer size differences between the three of you.

"You're not going out there first, bub. Hate me at the end of the day, but I'm protecting." Yunho whispered deeply in your ear while BM nodded in agreement.

"He's right. You finna stay in between our big tiddies until we reach your car. Got it?"

WHY THE FUCK DID HE HAVE TO PHRASE IT LIKE THAT?!

Yunho snickered a bit while you sighed loudly.

"Ok fine."

From there, you stayed like that. Sandwiched in between these two men. The only time you got a break was when they had to sit in the back seat while you drove them.

Even when you arrived at the hotel, you still stayed sandwiched in between them. You had to suffer through their man boobs suffocating you when you entered the elevator and went up to your floor. After the elevator arrived, you exited and walked to your room.

Or tried to at least.

You ended up staying in Yunho's room, where the three of you laid on Yunho's bed. Their big bodies squished you and you felt more flustered than before.

Will BM most likely be in that bed with you and Yunho for the entire night?

Yes.

That's how much they cared for you.

[flightlessangelwings]

Kinktober Day 23- Orgasm Denial

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 1.3k

Warnings- smut (18+ only), edging, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, established relationship, overstim

Notes- I... did not write this one with my brain if you get my drift lol! This one made me all hot and bothered so hopefully it does the same for y’all!! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen​!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​​. Reblogs highly appreciated!

~

“Does that feel good, baby?” Santiago purred in your ear.

“Mmm… Yes…”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from how good it really felt. Santiago thrust his fingers into you over and over again in a fast and harsh pace, and every time he buried them completely in you it felt like your soul might leave your body. He knew your body intimately, and he knew exactly where to hit to make you see stars.

But that also meant he could take it away from you at a moment’s notice.

“Oh fuck… Santi… You’re gonna make me cum,” you cried out as you clutched the sheets and threw your head back. Heat built in your body as your skin tingled from your quickly approaching climax. 

Santi smirked, “Not yet, baby.”

Just as you clenched your inner muscles around his fingers and were about to tip over the edge, Santi pulled out of you completely and left you hanging. You let out a pitiful whimper at the loss and you bucked your hips up to try and chase your climax. The fire that had built up within you quickly faded as Santi just looked at you with a dark grin on his face.

“Santi…” you pouted. 

He couldn’t deny how much the look on your face got to him, and his cock twitched as you begged for him, “You look so pretty like this, baby,” he cooed in a low tone as he caressed your face.

You whimpered but leaned your face into his touch. Your breaths were deep and ragged as your heart race came back down to normal. As Santi dragged his thumb across your cheek tenderly, he moved his fingers towards your lips. Without a word, he coaxed your mouth open and he shoved the fingers that were just inside you inside.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he felt your tongue swirl around his fingers.

You hummed around him as you worked his fingers the same way you would his cock. In your mind, you hoped that the action would earn your orgasm and Santi would let you cum. And at that moment, you would do anything to cum.

Santi pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and your lips popped around the tips as he did so. You rested yourself back down on the mattress and spread your legs obediently, ready for him to fuck you with his fingers again. Instead, however, Santi reeled his hand back and slapped your pussy hard.

“Fuck!” you screamed as he slapped your pussy again, “Santi…”

He growled as he slapped your pussy in a steady rhythm, and when he felt your wetness under his palm, he almost lost his composure. But, he wanted to play with you just a little bit longer and savor the look in your face when he denied your orgasm once again. So, he kept his gaze focused on your cunt as he slapped you several more times until your cries changed pitch.

Again, just as you were about to hit your peak, Santi pulled away and completely stopped slapping your pussy. You cried out in frustration and tried to snap your legs together to try and rub your thighs and give you that much needed release. But Santi was quick to react and he grabbed onto your thighs and kept your legs parted.

“Uh uh, baby,” he tisked, “Let me see that pretty pussy of yours,” he groaned, “Let me see how fucking pretty that pussy looks when it wants me so fucking badly.”

“Santi…” you panted as tears filled your eyes, “Please…”

Santi let out a low groan and dove into your exposed cunt in a flash. You screamed as you suddenly felt his mouth on your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit with expert precision. You arched your back as your body felt like it was on fire from how he devoured you, and as much as you tried to move your legs, Santi kept a firm grip on them to keep you open.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

He growled into you as he savored your taste and slurped loudly. Your pussy had never been wetter, and he made a note to tease you like this more often. Santi swirled his tongue along your folds as he felt your body tense under his grip, and for a moment he almost decided to let you cum then. But, after all this buildup, he wanted to watch as you fell apart, so just as you were about to hit your climax, he gathered all his willpower and broke away from your delicious pussy.

“Santi!” you screamed as tears of frustration fell from your eyes, “Please Santi… I can’t take this anymore. Please let me cum!”

“Shit baby,” he looked down at you from his position on his knees, his chin glistening from your juices. Santi leaned forward and positioned his cock at your entrance as he cradled your face, “Alright baby,” his voice was softer, “You were such a good girl for me, baby. You earned this.”

“Santi…” you breathed as you blinked your eyes open and met his gaze. The look of adoration on his face took your breath away and made your heart skip a beat.

Just as you were about to say something, Santi pushed himself into you, and every thought was instantly gone from your mind. Your mouth dropped open to let out the moans and cries as your head flew back down onto the bed.

You were so wet from all the edges he gave you, and Santi slid into you easily. He groaned your name as he covered you with his body and quickly started pounding into you in a fast and steady rhythm. He fought to keep his eyes on you, not wanting to miss a moment or a microexpression from your body.

“Fuck… Santi… I’m…” you clung to his shoulders as he thrust into you over and over again and all you could do was lay there and take it. But that was exactly what you wanted.

“Cum for me baby,” he purred, “Show me how fucking pretty my girl is.”

With a loud scream, you arched your head back and your entire body trembled as you were finally granted the release you craved for what felt like forever. You clenched your entire body around Santi as he pounded into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You felt like you could float away if it wasn’t for his weight on top of you, and you had never come that hard in your life.

And Santi couldn’t get enough of the sight. The way your face twisted in pleasure, the way you clung to him, the way you screamed his name… it was all perfection to Santi. He almost didn’t realize his own orgasm snuck up on him as he kept his eyes trained on your figure. But after a few more thrusts, Santi was taken over by his climax and he spilled himself into you with a groan of your name on his lips.

He kept up his pace for as long as he could, and once he had no more left to give, Santi collapsed down on top of you with a huff. You immediately wrapped your arms and legs around him, determined to keep him pinned against your body. For several moments neither of you said anything, both too exhausted and out of breath for any words.

It was Santi who broke the silence first, “You alright, baby?” he asked in a soft voice as he pushed himself to his elbows to check on you.

“So good,” you replied with a smile as you opened your eyes to meet his, “But that was mean, Santi,” you chastised him playfully.

Santi chuckled, “I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t help it. You looked so fucking hot.”

You huffed with a grin, “That was hot,” you agreed, “But now I’m wiped out.”

“Me too,” Santi dropped down and rested his head on you, “I’m good to just lay here for a while.”

“Sounds good to me,” you kissed the side of his face as you savored the warmth and comfort of Santi’s body on top of yours.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello!!, can we get a part two of blue diamond reader but this time she moved on finding out that pink diamond gave her life for her child and now reader is the guardian/mother of her sisters child. But then one day the child then got attacked by the same god that shattered her dearest sister but the god has an army trying to conquer readers palace so out of rage reader most literally deleted their entire existence without of course feeling her pain and anguish to them, affecting the other gods that's watching this unfold cause the fight took in the middle of a god meeting🧍‍♀️ after the fight reader just went back to spoiling her child lowkey panicking if he got hurt.

And out of lol's i imagine some gods would come up to her kneeling down on one knee and just say "Marry me" simultaneously (for comedic effect) i also imagine that she's taller than most gods cause i saw that blue diamond is actually a giant women🤩 anyway that's all!! You're carrying the ROR fandom by writing these fics❤️‼️

My sweet darling, you’re gonna give me a big ass head with your sweet words!! When I read your request I almost literally cried! You’re so kind!!

-It had been years since Pink had been shattered, years since your heart had been shattered.

-You had hid yourself away, hiding your pain, your sorrow, until news came, news of Pink.

-She had been shattered, that part was true, but she was shattered saving the life of her child, choosing to give her own to keep her son safe.

-The young child was small, smaller than Pink was when she was only a child, but seeing him, seeing your Pink in this child, your heart soared with pure joy.

-With no hesitation whatsoever, you adopted your nephew, raising him with compassion, educating him on anything he wanted to learn, and being the parental figure that he always wanted to have, as he had been living in an orphanage until his powers bloomed, Pink’s powers.

-To celebrate the one-year anniversary of this reunion, you decided to hold a ball and everyone, humans and gods, showed up to help you celebrate.

-Many were put at ease, seeing you smiling so warmly, seeing the child you now cared for so tenderly, a few were a bit jealous, wanting some of your affection for themselves, but this party was for you and your nephew.

-You were speaking to several of the gods when a loud crash was heard and your eyes widened, seeing a large god, one you recognized as the one who had shattered Pink!

-He had escaped after he was being sent to prison, vanishing and you were in anguish that none could find him.

-Behind him was an army of other warriors, ones that wanted to kill the gods, and kill any trace of the Diamond Goddesses.

-Their mistake was going after your nephew, in an instant, your power exploded, sending everyone in attendance to their knees, overwhelmed by your emotions and with one swipe of your hand, the gods and his minions were gone, immediately being turned to dust.

-Jaws were dropped all over, gawking in awe over your breathtaking power, turning to you to see you near tears, holding your nephew, demanding to know if he was okay, only worried about him, and not batting a single eyelash at the gods you just singlehandedly destroyed with one move.

-Once you were calmed down, you heard several voices shout out in unison, “‘MARRY ME!!’” you turned, eyes wide, seeing Hercules, Thor, Loki, Raiden, Lu Bu, Ares, Zeus, Rudra, and Chuck, God of Accounting, all kneeling before you, staring up at you, holding up a hand to you, proposing to you.

-You froze, your mind completely shutting down as you gaped at the mass proposal, unable to process that they all just proposed to you.

[bsgpiece]

I love your artwork and ideas of Sanami! That evening date one feels like inspiration for a good fanfic. 😄

If there was a love confession between the two of them how do you think it will go? I love to hear your thoughts!

First of all, sorry for taking so long for answering! I really wanted to make an art for this, but I didn't like any of my attempts, so I guess I still have to get better for this!

Well, second... THANK YOUUUU 😭😭💕 That makes so happy, being able to share my art and thoughts and knowing there are people who appreciates them is so heartwarming.

Feel free to write a fanfic about it if you want! Hahaha I'd love to read any SaNami fics 🫶🏻

About love confessions.. Oh, that really gets me. I have this HUGE headcanon (almost an hyperfixation lol) they confessed their love to each other after Whole Cake Island. Yes, I know it's almost a cliché for them, but I still have some details in mind I haven't found in any fanfictions I read until now.

I love the idea of Nami feeling really guilty about not realizing Sanji's true intentions, but still feeling angry for all that happened. Sanji even though was really happy to be back, didn't know how to act around Nami.

They would be weird around each other for a day or two, until one night Nami decides to go after him to talk. Well, there is when my imagination goes wild lol

I wish I have the skill to write a fanfiction about this, but to summarize.. Nami would find Sanji looking like he just cried recently, or maybe still crying. She would feel even more guilty and angrier when he denies it, which will lead to a huge discussion. And I mean huge.

Nami would say everything in her mind. All the good and bad things she thinks about him, about herself (she'll just avoid the use of the "love" word, of course. She's not really ready for admitting such feelings). Things could get physical, breaking stuff, Nami really getting over Sanji, pulling and pushing him over, not knowing whether to get away or closer to him.

We know Sanji, right? He'd be very confused. But he is no fool. A small flame of hope would grow inside his heart. Could Nami actually have romantic feelings for him?

He is more honest to his feelings when it comes to love, specially to Nami. He wasn't sure how she would react, but he tought she already was so mad at him, what did he have to loose? So yes, I believe he would be the first to actually say it. But say it without heart eyes or nosebleeds. Holding her firmly, yet gently, so she wouldn't run from him. Say the "I love you, Nami-san" that really send shivers down her spine, made her legs feel weak and her heart racing.

Nami wouldn't react at first. She would just look at him for a few seconds, not realizing she actually start crying even more than she already was during their fight. When Sanji was starting to think he might shouldn't have done it, she grabs him by his collar and BAM, HOLLYWOOD KISS! 🤣 Really really intense kiss, yes.

Why? Because they would lose theirselves in each other's touch, not really having to think all those feelings through. Just feel them!

After several minutes, they'll have to stop at some point and face each other again. This time feeling a lot lighter than before, she'll finally say "I love you too, Sanji-kun".

Well, you can imagine it however you'd like from now on. I still have more headcanons over this, a few really NSFW 🫣 however, it already became such a long post, I'm sorry.. I get so excited about those two! Hope it made any sense for you guys 🤣🤣

Thank you so much if you read until here! Love to answer your questions 💖

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side A: you.]

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

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

genre: romance, fluff

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

rating: 13+

length: 23k (LOL)

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

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

inspo spotify playlist found here!

side A: you.

“Are you insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you dare pin this on me.”

Your eyes shot up to his.

Cold. Piercing.

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

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

Even if it meant disappearing from sight.

A heavy silence passed over the two of you.

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

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

When? You were leaving in two months.

How? You got a presidential scholarship.

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

You had all of these answers.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he didn’t care enough to ask.

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

“You can’t leave,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

A lie.

“You can’t just fucking leave.”

Leaving him, the unspoken message.

“Y/N, you— ”

“Let me go. Please.”

You heard his breath hitch.

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

Almost.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Another lie.

“Don’t bother.”

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

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

He would be fine.

He always was without you.

Always will be.

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

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

Questions ran through your mind.

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

You paused for a moment.

Was this because of you?

You realized it didn’t matter.

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

You didn’t deserve to.

You deleted the message.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Man, fuck this thesis work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed. “Maybe to you, unnie.”

“D’you wanna get schwasted tonight?”

“I can’t. I have book club.”

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t it so good?”

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

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

Maybe you should just delete the app.

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

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

She led you back home.

Back to South Korea.

Back to him.

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

“You pinky promised, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, if you want.”

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

He looked you straight in the eyes.

Your heart leaped into your throat.

“I guess that’s you, firefly.”

──────────────────

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

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

“Y/N—”

“I know,” you blurted out.

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

“It’s not that bad,” you grumbled.

Hyejin’s features softened.

Your chest tightened. You hated that look.

Pity.

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

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

“I’ll add that to my data then.”

She flicked your forehead.

―――――――――――――――――

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

God. How much did you even drink?

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

“They represent us, bumblebee.”

“How, unnie?”

“We’re like… leaning on each other.”

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

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

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

5:43am

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[04:17] wzljh__ liked your post

Your hands shook as you stared at it.

You took a screenshot.

(Just in case.)

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

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

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

You came to three conclusions at once.

1. Lee Jihoon reactivated his Instagram.

B. He didn’t block you.

III. He stalked your profile.

──────────────────

“Y/N, I really don’t think—”

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

“That’s never going to happen—”

“Believe in me more, would you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I believe in you.”

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Where was hers?

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

He wasn’t following her.

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

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

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

Because, who would ever want to let him go?

You did, your mind supplied.

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

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

──────────────────

“Y/N.”

“Shh, Jihoon. I’m concentrating.”

“On what?”

“My wish!”

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

“What’re you wishing for?”

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

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

“I’ll tell you one of my wishes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. If you tell me one of yours.”

“You first.”

“Ladies first.”

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

He huffed. “You never make any sense.”

“Yes.”

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

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

“Firefly?”

“Hm?”

“What about you?”

You forced a smile as your eyes met his.

“I want to be friends forever.”

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

──────────────────

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

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

“I’m gonna spill it on my face—”

“I brought a straw too.”

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

“I meant in person, unnie.”

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

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

She paused at your words.

You blinked owlishly at her. “What?”

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

You gulped.

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

“Bumblebee, take a seat.”

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

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

──────────────────

“Just slide into his DM’s.”

“Hell no.”

“Don’t talk to your unnie like that.”

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

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

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

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

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

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

“God, what are you, 5?”

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

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

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

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

The corner of her mouth quirked up at that.

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

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

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

“UNNIE!”

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

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

“You said you wouldn’t—”

“I didn’t message him, did I?”

Your mouth went dry while your tears welled up.

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

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

She flinched back at your harsh tone.

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

Your watery eyes met Hyejin’s concerned gaze.

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

She froze. “Why...?”

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

“...Yeah, okay. Fair.”

──────────────────

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

You gasped loudly. “Jihoon! Blasphemous!”

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

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

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

“I need you to agree with me!”

“No, you want me to.”

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

“...would it make you happy?”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

―――――――――――――――――

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

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

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

“Nothing is real,” you muttered to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?

──────────────────

[tw: suicide mention]

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

You grit your teeth. “Eomeonim, I—”

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

“Eomma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of the glamour.

All of the charisma.

All of the pressure.

All of the pride.

All of the distrust.

All of the insecurity.

All of the underlying self-hatred.

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

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

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

You quietly slipped through the frame.

“Bad day?”

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

Jihoon blinked once. “Stopping what?”

“Life, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re the one who said it.”

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

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

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you have to.”

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

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

“But they’re right!”

“No, they’re not.”

“Shut up! You don’t know me!”

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

“Those are my parents!”

“Yeah, and they’re assholes!”

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

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

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

You were openly sobbing.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m kind of hurt.”

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

“…You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

──────────────────

“Do you ever think about generational trauma?”

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

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

“What d’you mean then, bumblebee?”

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

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

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

“Are you…?”

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

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

You glared.

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

“...to ask for help.”

“Wow, right on the money.”

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

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

You weren’t mediocre.

You just realized he wasn’t either.

──────────────────

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

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

“Whoa, you played baseball?”

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

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

“No, dumbass.”

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

You tossed it casually over to him.

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

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

“You’re not average though.”

“Of course not.”

“So, what does it say?”

“Gwangan-dong, Busan, August 2.”

“Was it a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“From who?”

“An old friend.”

“Why keep it?”

You hummed softly.

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

──────────────────

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

Lee Jihoon would never show off.

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

So, you knew when Jihoon was showing off.

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

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

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

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

“It’s done by the number of outs.”

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

“Our Jihoonie’s doing well, right?”

“Yep, as per usual.”

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

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

She froze. You quirked an eyebrow.

You noticed the redness creeping up her neck.

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

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

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

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

Oh no. You were so smitten.

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

You immediately froze.

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

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

How long did it take you to realize?

Suddenly, you wanted to be anywhere but there.

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

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

“Baby, no—let’s go over here.”

“She’s an ugly crier, like you!”

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

You thought of your unnie.

Your beautiful, elegant, sweet, soft unnie.

Of course Jihoon would prefer her.

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

Why would he even care to ever look your way?

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

Ugly.

“Whoa, whoa, ladybug, is that you?”

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

“God, you look horrible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here, firefly.”

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

So, you caught it.

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

His jaw clenched so hard, you cowered slightly.

“Why are you giving me this?”

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

“It’s your win today.”

You blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

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

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

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

You sniffled, the corner of your mouth upturned.

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

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

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

“You promised Disney and lemonade.”

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

You pondered for a moment. “Hercules?”

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

But most of all, kind.

“You got good taste, ladybug.”

──────────────────

“Does today feel like a lost day?”

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

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

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

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

[12:42] wzljh__ liked your post

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

Lee Jihoon was a man who demanded attention.

And he always had it.

──────────────────

“No, no. Noona, you promised.”

“I did no such thing.”

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

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

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

“Ask San or Seonghwa.”

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

You grimaced. “Weird ass fanboy.”

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

“He’s only 11cm shorter, sir.”

“Okay, okay. Keep defending your boyfriend.”

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

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

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

(And Wheein.)

(Because Hyejin told her.)

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

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

“Noona, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Men like you give women trust issues.”

“Yeah, probably.”

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

She gave your hand a tight squeeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You saw her from afar and suddenly something overwhelmed you.

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

“Bumblebee?”

“Thank you.”

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

“No, I mean...”

You paused. What did you mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he could do it, so could you.

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

She glanced your way, still visibly confused.

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

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

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

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

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

Promising to always be thankful.

Promising to always love.

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

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

That is a lesson an old friend taught you.

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

──────────────────

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

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

Too bad you saw him everywhere.

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

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

You saw him everywhere.

That included your notification center.

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post—

Your vision blurred.

Was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

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

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

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

You breathed in.

You breathed out.

You had work to do.

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read the words once. Twice. Three times.

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

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

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

Guess you’re a pretty lucky person.

Happy birthday, firefly.

- Jihoonie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────

“He’s been pretty bold lately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So did I,” you said pointedly.

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

The two of you laughed.

Hyejin hummed. “Do you ever blame him?”

“For what?”

“Leaving before you.”

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

“What d’you mean by that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I used to be real angry with him.”

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

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

“God forbid having feelings for men.”

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

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

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

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

“Which time?”

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

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

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

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

You both laughed.

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

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

You let out a shaky breath.

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

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

“Does it still bother you?”

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

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

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

“Nothing?”

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

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

You chased your dreams. You always have.

All except one.

But it was okay.

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

“No, nothing.”

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

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

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

Someone whose living was loving.

Not until she met you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone told her to walk away from all of that.

Not you.

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

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

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

“Even for a moment.”

“Even if it is not how we want.”

“Because, still, it is love.”

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

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the table rolled their eyes.

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

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

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

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

Yongsun dissipated the tension for Hyejin.

By directing it towards you.

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

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

She cocked her head to the side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the perfect cover up.

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

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

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

──────────────────

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

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

──────────────────

“Noona~”

“Choi Sannie~”

“I don’t appreciate the mockery~”

“Then get your ass to work~”

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

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

He tugged on your hair and you yelped.

“Noona.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one gives a flying shit, noona.”

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

“You did.”

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

“Jinwoo wants you to sing him to sleep.”

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

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

“...”

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

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

“I remember what I remember, noona.”

“Why don’t you sing to Jinwoo?”

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

You froze.

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

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

All except one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to sleep, Jinwoo?”

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

“Yes. Of course.”

And so you did.

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

──────────────────

May 26th.

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

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

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

You were a whole ass doctor.

“WE’RE FUCKING DONE, BITCHES.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whose phone?” Byul-yi asked.

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

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

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

“Unnie!”

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

“How old are you? 50?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You typed up a caption:

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

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

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

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

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

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

[22:15] wzljh__: sorry that was stupid

[22:15] wzljh__: ignore me

[22:15] wzljh__: congrats y/n

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

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

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

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

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

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

You opened up the conversation. 

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

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

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

Immediately, Seen popped up on your screen.

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

[23:16] wzljh__: oh

[23:16] wzljh__: oh wow

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

[23:17] wzljh__: thanks you

[23:17] wzljh__: thank uou*

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

You giggled softly to yourself.

──────────────────

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

“You’re fucking rude.”

You tutted. “Jihoon, language.”

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

“Mmm. Nope.”

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

“Um? But I am? So very wholesome?”

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

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

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

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

He grinned. “We both can be.”

──────────────────

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

[23:19] wzljh__: the other caratdeul

[23:19] wzljh__: ??

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

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

[23:20] wzljh__: unfortunately every day

You laughed out loud at that.

You saw the three dots come. And then disappear.

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

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

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

You clicked on the video.

“Annyeong, Y/N-ah!!”

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

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

Your heart burst at the sight.

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

[23:28] You: omg i’m gonna cry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[23:31] wzljh__: no.

[23:31] You: 🙄 rude

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

[23:31] You: i’m!!!!!

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

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

[23:33] You: 😂😂😂

[23:33] You: wait!!

[23:33] You: you can’t distract me!!

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

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

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

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

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

[23:34] wzljh__: …

[23:34] wzljh__: damn

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

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

You stared at the screen. What?

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

[23:36] wzljh__: at the dorm

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

[23:36] wzljh__: yea? ofc lol

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

[23:37] You: bihhhhh

──────────────────

“Always remember this, Y/N.”

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

“Good people watch anime.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay?”

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

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

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

“Fair, but—”

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

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

“Of course not.”

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

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

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

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

You had yet to find another Zoro.

──────────────────

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

[23:38] You: BIHHHHHHH

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

[23:39] You: 🥺 do i not get a choice

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

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

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

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

[23:43] You: ‘let’s have fun’

[23:43] wzljh__: …?

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

[23:44] wzljh__: ok

[23:44] You: 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[23:45] You: wait

[23:45] You: that’s one too many

[23:45] wzljh__: fake fan

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

[23:46] wzljh__: favorite

[23:46] wzljh__: ?*

[23:46] You: asjdkksncsls yoinks

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

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

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

[23:49] wzljh__: HA

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

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

[23:50] wzljh__: lololol

[23:50] wzljh__: alright alright

[23:50] wzljh__: i gotta go soon

[23:50] wzljh__: but

[23:51] wzljh__: congratulations y/n

[23:51] wzljh__: seriously

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

[23:52] You: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

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

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

[23:55] wzljh__: ?

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

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

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

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

[00:00] You: but you did

[00:00] You: and i just

[00:00] You: idk i’m really grateful

[00:02] You: anyway!!

[00:02] You: sorry

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

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

[00:03] You: thank you lee jihoon

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

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

[00:06] wzljh__: 👍🏼

[00:07] You: ...i’m unsubscribing

[00:07] wzljh__: lolool

[00:07] You: 😭😭😭

[00:08] wzljh__: still a crybaby

[00:08] You: more like crylady

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

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

[00:10] wzljh__: looooollll

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

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

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

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

[00:13] You: i’m gonna d word 😭

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

[00:14] You: ok 😞 fine

[00:14] You: you’ll message me?

[00:14] You: 🤙🏼?

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

[00:16] You: don’t care!!!

[00:16] wzljh__: lollll still so stubborn

[00:16] wzljh__: okay fine

[00:17] wzljh__: 🤙🏼

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

And so you did.

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

And falling, falling, falling.

──────────────────

Five weeks.

Four interviews.

Three community project ideas.

Two job offers.

One major minor meltdown.

Zero Instagram messages.

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

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

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

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

“Unnie.”

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

“Strongly so.”

“And they have Broadway—”

“An absolute treat.”

“And you’d be lecturing at Columbia—”

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

“But I’m not there!”

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

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

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

“...okay, touché. But! Are you really going to move halfway across the world? Again?”

“I enjoyed my time at Yale!”

“Bumblebee, you left Korea because you were running away from something. Someone. Are you sure you’re not leaving Korea for the same reason?”

“...Unnie, I love New York.”

──────────────────

“Doesn’t this city just reek of anxiety?”

You ignored her and instead took in the hustle and bustle of the streets around you. The neon signs of overpriced bags just begging to be haggled, the misogynistic advertisements of computer-generated women overhead, unassuming hot dog stands and bodegas whose businesses depended entirely on locals, live music found on nearly every street corner, committed to entertain in order to survive.

This city was the physical manifestation of everything right and wrong with humanity.

Bodies close. Minds worlds away.

The perfect place for someone like you.

“So full of life.”

Hyejin looked at you. Her face softened once she caught a glimpse of the glimmer of light she always saw in passing.

She hoped it would return for the long-term.

“Yeah, bumblebee. Full of life.”

She promised herself that she would take you every year from then on.

Your first trip was during the nipping frost of winter, filled with artificial twinkling and overconsumption of goods; the holiday cheer dampened by the cold reality that heartbreak and loneliness were inevitable byproducts of the season.

Your second trip was in the welcoming arms of autumn, decidedly going upstate for one day; the leaves faded into reds and golds, apples ready to be picked to be baked into a sweet pie, accompanied by the warmth of spiced cider and slow healing found in vulnerability wrapped in double crochet blankets and friendship.

Your third trip was during the sweltering heat of the summer, bad decisions and dangerous impulsivity. Late night drives of yells and whoops echoed into the Lincoln Tunnel with the wind rushing through your hair. The invincibility of youth and rekindling of the burning fire you thought was long gone.

Your fourth trip was in the blossoming of springtime, maturation of seeds sown and bountiful harvests. Gentle breezes and flowy dresses. Picnic baskets and overpriced coffees. The unspoken connection of humans collectively sitting in Central Park enjoying the gift of now, thankful to be alive.

As the seasons changed, so did you.

──────────────────

“But,” Hyejin started, exasperation already apparent in her tone. “Come on, bumblebee.”

Annoyance flared up. “What?”

“You’re thinking about running away again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes at you and you could feel the simmering anger building in the pit of your stomach. You tried to quell it down with breathing, but you still felt the flames lick at your insides. “Jihoon just started messaging you again and you’re off here just thinking about fleeing the country. Again.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“I think it has everything to do with him.”

“I’m not some lovesick puppy who can’t make her own decisions, unnie. I applied to Columbia because I thought that it would be an amazing opportunity to be an assistant professor. Do you know how many PhD grads get to score a job like that right out of graduation?”

“Oh, yes, we get it, Y/N. You’re always cream of the crop. Top of your class. Always pursuing something bigger and better than what we mere humans can provide.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“You were offered a full-ride to NYU for your PhD, but you declined it because you didn’t want to, and I’m quoting you here, ‘dirty your healing place.’”

“Things change, unnie.”

“No, you’re just fucking scared.”

Rage filled you. “You don’t know me. You think you have me all figured out, but you’re just projecting onto me because you, for one, are constantly running away from your own feelings for Wheein! You wanna know who’s scared? It’s not me. Because I make my choices and I don’t regret them. Can’t say the same for yourself, huh?”

You grabbed your belongings and stomped out of your shared living space, slamming the door behind you, the beating in your chest ringing in your ears with a resounding thump, thump, thump.

Part of you wondered if the reason you snapped was because she was right.

Maybe partially.

But you also knew that you hated being carved and molded into what people perceived you as.

And she perceived you as something you were not.

Your happiness wasn’t reliant on him. You were a wholly and complete person without him. You knew that. You found that Truth long ago. You proved that through the years of work you put in; years that Hyejin witnessed herself.

So, it felt like a backhanded slap when it felt like she saw the girl you were when she first met you. As though you didn’t put in the effort to take the course of your life into your hands and crafted it to be the way that it is now.

You were a whole person.

She never said you weren’t.

You tried to pull out your car keys from your bag but struggled to find them in the midst of your frustration. You growled before giving up, stomping your way down the now dimly lit streets, the sky never quite achieving a pitch black, with the light pollution of the city. Stars were nowhere in sight, but the moon hung low near the horizon.

You found yourself walking (nearly stomping) for almost an hour as different voices argued in your mind. You were several blocks away from your home now.

She overreacted.

She’s just worried about you.

She didn’t have to be.

She probably doesn’t want you to experience the heartache that she’s seen you go through.

She was treating you like a child.

Because she loves you. And love makes you do crazy things sometimes. Like yelling at your best friend. Or flying halfway across the world.

You groaned inwardly.

God! Why did you have to have a conscience?

You said some pretty shitty things to someone who may have not portrayed her care in the best way, but tried to anyway. She gathered the courage to try and challenge you and you blew her off by rubbing salt into her own wound.

She wasn’t right.

But neither were you.

You felt the wash of shame come over you as you twiddled with your bag’s strap, trying to muster up the determination you needed to trudge back down and apologize.

“Oh, thank God, bumblebee.”

You pivoted your entire body at your unnie’s voice, wanting to shrink back at noticing the redness in her skin and puffiness under her eyes, even in the faint light of the street lamps. She looked so frazzled, her flip-flops nearly hanging off her feet from what looked like running around trying to find you. “Unnie, I—”

“I know you said you don’t like apologies, so I’ll say thank you instead. Thank you for your honesty, even if it was really mean. Thank you for listening to me, at least the beginning. Thank you for getting angry because I know that’s really fucking hard for you to do so and I feel weirdly honored but also still spooked by it. Thank you for not driving, especially this late and on a weekend when you’re upset—”

Your heart sank at the memory of Hyejin recounting her story of losing her friend to a drunk driver, something Hyejin felt immensely (and irrationally) responsible for, having been the person to last send her off.

You had forgotten about that.

Here you were, trying to figure out how you were going to apologize, and here she was, worrying about whether you were going to come back to her at all. You bit your lip before you piped up, “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Yeah, well, I was right. I learned that I never want to be caught in the crossfire. Your anger is terrifying. You’re not a bumblebee; you’re more like an agitated hornet. With a gun.”

“Unnie—”

“I’m not done. I don’t know how to process my emotions like you do so I didn’t really think before I came running after you. I’m still hurt and mad that you said all of that shit—”

“I was wrong,” you interrupted. She went quiet at that. “I don’t know everything. I hardly know anything. But what I do know is that I was wrong. I said some things that I knew were going to hurt you because that’s what I wanted to do. I was wrong. But... so were you, unnie.”

She remained silent, so you continued.

“I’m not that same, young, dumb teen that you met at Yale. I’m not the brat who was still trying to figure out how to be her own person without being an off-brand version of all of her friends from Busan. I’m… I’m not weak, unnie.”

“I… I never said you were.”

You wondered when you started crying. “Yeah, well. It felt like you didn’t believe in me. That you didn’t trust me. You are the only person in my life who saw all of the changes I went through and you still said I was running away. So, it just made me think that all of my growth was… I don’t know. Fake.”

“What? No. Oh, bumblebee. Never.”

“I’m… I’m my own person. Who can make her own decisions. I don’t need anyone else to complete me. So, there’s no one and nothing that I’m trying to run away from. I’m just trying to figure out where I want to go. Is that so bad?”

“...No. Not at all,” Hyejin answered softly. She slowly stepped towards you and tentatively wrapped her arms around your torso. You leaned in and breathed in her scent, muffling your sniffling against her shoulder. “You were right that I confused the woman you are now with the girl you were then. But I’ve never ever seen you as weak. Or incomplete. Not then, not now.”

“Then why?” You sobbed. “Why do you think my life revolves around him? Anyone else can think I’m some love-struck dumbass, but why you?”

“Oh, bumblebee, I fucked up when I said I thought it had everything to do with him. I definitely… projected. Like you said. As much as I hate to admit it. But... I also want you to know that I don’t see you as some sad girl who’s been pining after some crusty dude. I see a woman who has gone around the world, fallen in love with it and its people, and still knows exactly with whom she feels safest. And I don’t want you to deny yourself of that.”

“I’m not denying myself anything. He doesn’t love me, unnie. So, I have to be the one to do it. Because he won’t. And that’s okay. I’ve learned to love myself and isn’t that good enough?”

Hyejin squeezed you tighter in her embrace. “Call me crazy, but… I think there’s something there. Call it a spark. Call it a string of fate. Call it a grown love. But… ah. I’m not good with words like you, bumblebee. You are good enough. Just as you are. Wonderful, even. I… I’m not saying he’s a missing piece of you or anything like that. But. Agh. Like. He is bread. And you are butter. You’re both complete by nature and can exist without each other, but you’re just… better together,” she tried to hold her tongue, but you knew her resolve was weak, so you braced yourself. “Butter together.”

“...unnie, you really are bad with words.”

You yelped when she grabbed at you to pinch your thigh.

She promptly turned the two of you around back to your apartment, her arm looped around yours. You easily walked past your building, though, caught up in smoothing out the harsh lines said during your earlier conversation. She admitted her fears regarding pursuing her own unrequited love and you confessed you often chased things that were of grandeur rather than that of simplicity. And you both touched on exactly the roots of your insecurities: hers in her fear of being unwanted and yours in the idea that you were incomplete without him.

The two of you found yourselves swinging at a neighborhood park that probably closed several hours ago, but it was a safe space for the two of you, to air out the tension, to have the beginnings of healing and mending, although most of it being left to time and future efforts of rebuilding trust.

Together.

──────────────────

[19:21] wzljh__: this might be a dumb question but did ur kkt account change

[19:21] wzljh__: i tried messaging u and it said delivered but

[19:21] wzljh__: nvm u dont have to reply sorry

[19:42] You: omg

[19:42] You: jihoon i made a new account bc my username was @narutofanfreak123 and i couldn’t bear to tell people that was my username but i didn’t know how to change it LOLLL

[19:43] You: so i made a new account once i came back to korea!!

[20:01] wzljh__: i

[20:01] wzljh__: i shouldve asked

[20:02] wzljh__: i thought u werent replying because u were busy with job searching since u were posting about it on ur story

[20:02] wzljh__: or maybe u didnt want to talk to me 😣

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief.

Jihoon used an emoji?

[20:05] You: oh no lol i already got offers

[20:05] You: still deciding between two of them

[20:17] wzljh__: before u tell me whats ur username on kkt?

[20:18] You: oh yeah!

[20:18] You: oh

[20:18] You: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[20:18] wzljh__: ???

[20:19] You: haha

[20:19] You: ok so

[20:19] You: uh

[20:19] wzljh__: are u ok???

[20:20] You: yeah! haha

[20:20] You: welp

[20:20] You: it’s @madamefirefly

[20:20] You: heh

Lee Jihoon (@wzljh__) added you on KakaoTalk! You accepted Lee Jihoon’s request!

[20:23] Lee Jihoon: nice username

[20:23] You: thanks it was inspired by someone who used to bully me as their pastime

[20:25] Lee Jihoon: sounds like u were a masochist

[20:25] You: 🙄🙄🙄

[20:25] You: nice username

[20:25] You: sounds like it was randomly generated off of a sketchy site on naver that just so happened to have your initials

[20:26] Lee Jihoon: that ‘sketchy site’ somehow managed to predict the initials of my english stage name

[20:27] You: that was easily!!!! within your control to manipulate, woozi-ssi!! it should technically be uji!!

[20:27] Lee Jihoon: no that site knew my future and spoke to me

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: speaking of futures

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: whats coming up on the y/n agenda

[20:29] You: oop sorry hyejin-unnie is back home and i promised we would get dinner together so i might not respond until later

[20:30] You: but i’m deciding between staying here in seoul to continue the work i’ve been doing and being an assistant professor at columbia university in new york city!!

[20:30] You: although i’m def leaning more towards one than the other

[20:30] You: ack she’s yelling at me to hurry sorry i’ll ttyl!!

[Read at 20:30]

──────────────────

 Your phone rang.

You saw the FaceTime ID and never slid the bar faster than you did in that moment.

“Unnie! I—oh God, is that a wedding dress—oh my, oh no, the tears—”

One of the most beautiful laughters of your childhood rang out as she flipped the camera back to her face, stained from salty tears already passed. “Oh, lovebug—” Your lips split into a wide grin at the childhood nickname. “I think this is the one. I needed to show you. What do you think?”

“Hold on, I’m crying so hard that I can’t see—”

337.1km away, your future family member (although, one could argue she always had been) burst into a renewal of joyful tears, so exuberantly over-the-moon to share this moment with you, and you sharing the same exact sentiment to be able to bask in the joy of a promised love.

“Unnie,” you said emphatically. “You are… so beautiful. So stunning. So radiant. So dazzling. My goodness me. You are… just so splendent.”

She hiccuped. “Lovebug, no one uses that word anymore.”

“I had to go back to words of old to explain myself because language oft fails me when I see you.”

“Stop. God, you and Jihoon both with your ability to speak. How do words even come out of you two like that?”

You made a noise.

You don’t think she caught it.

“Y/N, you are sunshine personified, so to hear you say that makes me feel like I’m being blessed by Amaterasu herself.”

“I wouldn’t want to go lock myself in a cave.”

“Then don’t, lovebug,” she said dismissively. “Plus, you can’t. The bachelor and bachelorette party is gonna be in Seoul and you promised you would be there.”

“Yes, yes. To help me get blackmail on everyone else in case they try to turn on you later. You’re using me, you know?”

“You’re a useful person.”

You clicked your tongue. “So I’ve been told.”

A comfortable silence passed between the two of you before she broke it, a slight hesitation in her tone.

“So… turns out that Jihoon’s gonna be at oppa’s bachelor party. Oppa asked him to perform and he said no because of his schedule, but he said he would be at the wedding. And the bachelor party.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. He was willingly going to the party and the wedding of the man who stole the love of his life away from him? “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Huh. Weird.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s coming to the wedding. I know you don’t want to see him, but—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you literally went across the world to avoid him—”

“Why does everyone think that? No, don’t worry about me, unnie. It’s fine.”

You didn’t look directly at the screen but you could feel her stare boring into the side of your face through it. She thought you were lying. But you weren’t. It wasn’t about you.

“Lovebug—”

“He texted me.”

Your words stunned her into silence.

That is, until she went rapid-fire.

“Oh my God. What? How? When? Did you reply? Was it an emergency? Did you have a conversation? Was it a casual conversation? How long? Oh, thank goodness—”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, unnie. Wait. Why do you look happier now than you did when you were showing me your wedding dress? Wait. Aren’t you at a boutique right now? Don’t you have your mom waiting or something—?”

“Shush, I’m asking the questions around here.”

And so, you answer them. You told your future family, your confidant, your safe space. You told her of the accidental like, the off-chance comment, the purposeful messages, and everything caught in between.

337.1km away and you felt right at home.

──────────────────

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice anywhere.

Of course she was here, of course she was. This was one of your collective dreams, two girls fantasizing about inebriated situations and uninhibited fun by means of burning liquids in a local Busan bar. A dream of spending a night here, sharing a story for every shot.

You learned a year prior that you would really only be able to tell two stories before wanting to quit.

“Oh… hey, unnie.”

“You’re… you’re back.”

You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh. Graduated.”

“From Yale.”

“Uh… yeah. From Yale.”

“Can… I sit here?”

You glanced up at her before gesturing to the seat in front of you, the corner booth really far too large for your person. You could almost see the thoughts that raced in her mind before she gave a small nod and sunk down into the cushion.

“So, how have you—”

“I heard you—”

“Oh, no, you go—”

“Oh, sorry, I just—”

You both locked eyes.

And promptly burst into a fit of laughter.

“God, what is this?” You managed to get out, holding your stomach.

She was no better, in her signature hiccuping stage. “I just—!”

“We have the communication skills of five-year-olds.”

She wiped away a stray tear. “We’ve become a drama.”

“I call being the second-male lead.”

“Wait, that’s not fair. We all know that the second-male lead is objectively better.”

“That’s exactly why, unnie,” you winked.

She scoffed. “Alright, I’ll give it to you this time, lovebug.”

You saw her freeze, as if she didn’t expect herself to call you by that nickname. She looked like a deer caught in headlights and you quickly gave her a wave of your hand. “You spent more years calling me that than you did my actual name. Let’s not break the trend now, yeah?”

She visibly relaxed and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

A lull passed over you, but you felt much more comfortable with this silence than the strained one prior. You closed your eyes and simply took in the moment, gratitude filling your lungs.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry that you had to leave because of me—”

Oh.

That was heart wrenching to hear.

The apology signified a wound, an old one.

A self-inflicted one.

Oh no.

“Unnie,” you began slowly, reaching for her hands. You could see the tears brimming. “Do you… do you blame yourself for my decision? Has guilt been eating at you all of these years?”

“I just… you left. Jihoon left. If I had just said something, then—”

“Unnie.”

She bit her lip at your definitive tone.

“Nothing, nothing, about this was your fault.  Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t mine and it wasn’t his either. We all struggled to ‘just say something’. Unnie, we were young and dumb. We still are young and dumb,” you squeezed her hands for emphasis. “If you say you’re sorry, then okay. I forgive you. But I just want you to know that past me never blamed you. Never.”

She let out a choked sob and you found yourself crossing to the other side of the table, enveloping her in your arms, tucking her head under your chin. She buried her face into your chest and you just rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for never reaching out. I’m sorry I never cleared the air. I’m sorry I was so scared.”

“We needed time and space apart, unnie. To figure ourselves out. And I did. I really did. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I kept tying my self-worth into Korea, into Busan, into you, into him. But that doesn’t mean I cut you off in order to do it. I don’t think I ever could,” you squeezed tighter. “Thank you for saying that you’re sorry, but there really is no need, not to me.”

And so she cried into your arms, emptying herself of tears. Later, you filled that space with your stories of adventure, your kind words, and your love. And she did the same for you.

In that moment, Busan never seemed so much more like home.

──────────────────

“So, New York, huh?”

You glanced up at your boss, the social worker in charge of running the different programs tied to the university, the same one who got you involved with the group home, the same one who offered you a full-time position after graduation in training new recruits, specializing in the Child and Family division, but also providing self-care guidance to the rest of the staff since your specialty in school was around Behavioral and Mental Health.

The pay was good, seeing as it was run by professionals partnered with SKY: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University. What most Koreans would consider to be the ‘Ivy League’ of South Korea. Although, being a community leader was definitely a far-cry from a prestigious position as an assistant professor.

“Ah. Yeah, New York.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s… yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is the air better there than here?”

“No fine dust, but there’s a lot of smog.”

She pulled a displeased face. “Is that better?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. You wanted to reduce into a puddle and slip through the vents, dreading this conversation.

“You should go.”

Uh. What?

You parroted those exact words out loud.

“I may have lost some of my mind’s sharpness to age and time, but if I remember correctly, New York City is one of the most popular places in the world. And I hear that it would be a good place for a young, spry lady like you to get your bright mind out there. The world needs a little more of you and if New York City is the best way to do it, so be it.”

“I’m… I’m…”

“A wonderful human being who will make the most of the hand that she’s dealt. I’ve seen you make castles out of cardboard.”

“You… you want me to go to New York?”

“Oh, Heavens no. Not at all. I would love to just keep you here forever,” she sighed, going so far as to lean back in her desk chair. You resisted the urge to laugh at her theatrics. “But you’re not a princess locked up in a tower. You have the power to make your own choice, and I know that whichever path you go down, it will be a flowery one. You’ll make it one. Because that’s just what you do, Y/N.”

“What if… What if I’m not sure?”

She tilted her head back down to meet your eyes and gave you a smile that was slightly off-putting, as though you had fallen into a trap she carefully laid out. “Then, what can I do to convince you to stay here?”

“I think a part of me thinks I’m wanting to stay here because I’ve found my home here. I think I’ve become incredibly comfortable here. In Korea.”

She blinks at you. “Is… that a bad thing?”

“I think... I think that I’m wanting to stay here because I love it here and the work I do and the people I’ve met, but I think I’m wanting to leave because I’m trying to prove that I’m not tied down to a particular person. Because I feel like everyone thinks that I can’t live my life without them, so I want to prove that I can do it. That I will.”

“So… you’re trying to prove that you’re not influenced by said person, by, uh, being influenced by said person?”

“Uh.”

“‘Uh,’ indeed.”

“What if… I’m staying here because I subconsciously think that everyone is right? That I actually can’t live without them? Not actually?”

“Is that person me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m a little hurt you answered that so quickly, but. To prove my point. You are here, in my office, yes?”

“Yes…?”

“Are they?”

“No…?”

“Then. You’re living without them, aren’t you? Right here. In front of me. Heart pumping out blood through your veins and your brain shooting off neurons. You’re alive. Without them.”

“It’s… it’s a little different, Doctor, I—”

“Y/N. You’re dazzling. Almost overwhelmingly so. There is no one. No one who can overshadow you in the way you think they can. No matter what underlying influences, no matter what puppetry you may think is going on, you call the shots. You get to decide what to include in your life moving forward. If this person has as much power as you think they do over you, I’d like to meet them. Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You bit your lip. “Is… Is it okay to be so selfish?”

“You said so yourself, Y/N. You found a home here. Or more like, knowing you, you built a home here. Korea will forever be marked by you. Seoul. Busan. Everywhere you’ve gone. That’s something that the majority of the world cannot say, because everyone feels a little lost, a little out of place. But you? No. You have a place. Right here. And, I mean, even at the end of the day, if you go off somewhere else, you’ll always have a place to return to that will welcome you with open arms.”

“Doctor, I…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...I think I wanna stay.”

“Perfect. I’ll have them write up your contract.”

──────────────────

[04:12] Lee Jihoon: i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

[4:12] You: i still have the sleep schedule of a doctoral student, you know

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: oho i see

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: and u still owe me a gift, doctor

[4:12] You: 🥴🥴🥴 i thought you forgot

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: never

[4:13] You: ok lee jihoon, what do you want?

[4:13] Lee Jihoon: can i call u

[4:13] You: ? sure?

Before you could even type, ‘is something wrong?’, his name and profile picture (which wasn’t even of him, it was that dumb photo of Hansol) flooded your screen. Your finger slid across before you could even give a second thought.

“Um. Hello?” Silence met your ears. You wondered whether the call actually went through. You pulled the phone away from your cheek and pressed ‘speaker’. “Jihoon…?”

“Ah, sorry. Yes. Wow. Hi.”

You knew speaker was the better option. Hearing his voice that close to your ear would have given you heart palpitations, or at least, worse than what was already happening. “Yes, hello yourself. Did you need something?”

“Huh?”

“You called?”

“Oh. Yeah. No. I just. Wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I think staring at a screen would’ve made me fall asleep faster, but I wanted to talk. To you. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay.”

You heard him release a sigh of relief (?). “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

You hummed, realizing there was a chance he didn’t exactly prepare conversation topics. “I decided to stay in Seoul.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My boss here convinced me.”

“Tell them thank you.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t hard to.”

“Columbia is a pretty prestigious place, though.”

“Huh. How’d you know that?”

“Might’ve asked Hansol and Jisoo-hyung.”

You clicked your tongue. “Jihoon, just because they’re American doesn’t mean—”

“Nope. That’s exactly what it means.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea. You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even bigger school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So. I’m proud of you.”

Your throat felt tight. “It’s not that big of a deal—”

“But it is, firefly.”

Oh, that nickname. “I mean, I just—”

“You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

“I’ve missed you.”

Before you could even make a noise (not that you could), he continued.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls. And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle go down. That kind of stupid.”

You couldn’t form words.

But you tried.

“I… I missed you too.”

You could’ve sworn you heard utter satisfaction in his voice. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

His laughter rang throughout your empty room and your chest tightened.

“Alright, we’ll go with just firefly then.”

Tears formed in your eyes at the ‘we’. You felt like you were fifteen and back in your childhood bedroom, after a long, long hours, ending your night by telling him about your day. The words you denied yourself for years tumbled out of your mouth, “Night, night, Jihoonie.”

A low chuckle met your ears.

“Sleep well, firefly.”

──────────────────

“He fucking booty called you?”

“Unnie, that’s not—”

“Nuh-uh, bumblebee. Any call past 3am is a fucking booty call.”

“So, when you called me past 3am, it was a booty call? I feel violated.”

“Time zones, Wheein. Doesn’t count,” Hyejin said dismissively.

Wheein puffed out her cheeks and stabbed the salad in front of her, piercing a lettuce leaf. You wanted to laugh at her infantile display, but you knew that would only result in her turning against you. And Hyejin was already a formidable opponent.

“He’s an idol,” you repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. “His rehearsal didn’t end until 3am.”

“He didn’t even tell you what he wanted for a gift,” Wheein interrupted.

“Yeah, what the hell is that about?” You muttered, turning back to your own plate of fries. You chewed on one thoughtfully as you made eye contact with Hyejin who gave you a deadpanned look. “What?”

“God, you two are dense, aren’t you?”

“Um, rude?”

“The phone call was the gift,” Hyejin explained.

“What a shitty gift.”

“Yeah, what? I would’ve asked for, like, Y/N’s homemade japchae.”

“Or my kimchi jjigae.”

“Or her dwaejigogi-bokkeum—wait. Stop distracting me,” Hyejin shook her head. “Regardless, bumblebee. He called you and that was his gift.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous notion. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t make Brady Bunch references at me. We’re not American.”

“No, but we do use the internet,” you reminded her. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like the fact that my cousin and his fiancée are coming in about a week and they want to get dinner together before they get shit-faced over the weekend. My only task is to gather blackmail material whenever the bachelorette happens with her friends.”

“Sounds like my kind of job.”

“Yes, Wheein-unnie, it really does.”

“Aren’t you gonna see him then?”

“Who? Jihoon?”

“Yeah, like. Aren’t you gonna see him next week? Isn’t he in your cousin’s bachelor party troupe or whatever the hell it’s called?”

You cocked your head to the side. “I don’t think I’ll see him? I shouldn’t see him. I think they’re gonna be in a different part of Seoul.”

“Huh. That would’ve been cool, though.”

“What?”

“You know that scene in dramas, where the main characters meet each other again for the first time in a long time and it’s all fuzzy and slow motion and there’s music playing in the background?”

“That’s—what? No. That doesn’t actually happen in real life, unnie.”

Hyejin pursed her lips. “Sure, Jan.”

──────────────────

“Ladybug!”

“Move aside, second-rate, that’s my lovebug.”

Your unnie ran into your open arms after she shoved her fiancé aside. You laughed at his crestfallen face but squeezed your future family as tight as you could. She squealed at your strength but nuzzled her face into your neck anyway.

“She’s… she’s my cousin, you know.”

“Yeah, but she chose me, which means that she likes me more. Chosen family is always better.”

“What? No—”

“She’s right, oppa,” you quipped. “Chosen family is always better. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing?”

“I—you two always do this. You two always gang up on me and Jihoon, and—”

“Our table is ready, oppa. Let’s go take a seat.”

“For once, can you two listen to me, please?”

“He’s asked that before, unnie.”

“And we abided at that one time, right, lovebug?”

“Yes. He said to listen for once and we did.”

“Once only means one time, am I wrong?”

“No, unnie, you’re not.”

“God, forget it. Where’s the damn table? I need a drink.”

The two of you laughed at your cousin’s outburst and retreating figure as you both linked arms to follow after.

──────────────────

One appetizer in, you swirled the lemonade in your hands, appreciating the visible pulp as an indicator of its freshness. Your cousin, on the other hand, was several beers in, face slightly flushed, a permanent lazy grin plastered on his face.

“Wow, I’m surrounded by my two favorite girls—”

“What about your mom?”

“Or your dog?”

“Or Jennie from Blackpink?

“Or Zero Two from Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Oh God. He watched Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Ugh, yes, lovebug, let me tell you—”

“ANYWAY. YEAH. MY TWO FAVORITE GIRLS.”

The two of you snickered at his outburst. Your cousin’s phone pinged and he shielded it from you, squinting like an old man, staring at the screen with a tilted head. “Oh, hey, he’s five minutes away.”

You made an inquisitive sound. “Who?”

The two of them exchanged nervous glances, your cousin visibly swallowing.

Your unnie was the one who decided to speak up.

Because they knew you wouldn’t ever get mad at her.

Oh no.

“I know we didn’t give you the time to prepare, but we thought that you would’ve run away if we told you earlier, but Jihoon is coming here and—”

You could see her mouth move but you only heard a dull ringing.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Wait.

Could you even speak? Where was your mouth again? Did it even move? What was happening? Where were you? Who were you?

“Y/N.”

You thought you felt a hand place itself on your shoulder. You turned to the sound source. “Yes?”

“Are you breathing?” “I think so.”

Your vision focused enough to recognize the looks of concern from the two seated at the booth.

Your heart sank. Oh no. Oh no.

Jihoon was going to see the two of them together, engaged.

He was going to be completely shattered.

“Lovebug, are you crying?”

“I—”

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin’s voice went up several octaves from its regular position. You froze and cast your eyes downward, shrinking back as far into the seat as you could.

“Hey, hyung.”

Even the highest quality of speakers could not do this man’s voice justice, you realized.

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

You prepared yourself to hear the strain in his voice that you knew would tear you up inside.

“Hi, noona.”

Wait. What?

He spoke with such nonchalance, your head shot up in surprise.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Was your vision still fuzzy from earlier?

Did someone turn the playback speed to 0.5x?

Was that music playing?

(Shit. Hyejin was right.)

Your tongue mindlessly ran across your lips.

Oh wow.

He was really built like that, huh? His fair skin was so clear, you could have sworn there was a halo of light emitting from him. Cleanly done undercut, his ebony bangs fell messily just above his eyes, oh God, those crescent eyes, those bright, bright, bright—

Has he always looked at you like that?

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

The older two gawked for a moment before your cousin began to berate you, going so far as to threaten to wash your mouth out with soap, while your unnie had her jaw dropped in horror. But you couldn’t look away from Jihoon. Surprise flitted across his face, but only for a moment. It settled into an uptilted corner of his lip and amusement dancing in his irises.

The woman before him, he only ever caught fleeting moments of. From social media posts by old friends to grainy photos from news outlets regarding your doctoral work. You were always so hard to pin down, like trying to catch a sunbeam in his hands.

You changed. So much.

You grew more into yourself, a woman you crafted with your own hands. There was a quiet confidence woven into you, so blatantly obvious, even though your current posture would convince everyone else otherwise. But he wasn’t everyone else. He could see the burning flame you’ve had since you were children, but it was more refined, more honed in, more in your control.

That made you more dangerous.

But that flustered look on your face.

Maybe you hadn’t changed too much.

And that gave him hope.

──────────────────

[끝.]

[side B: him.]

[sillyunicorn]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers 💫

thank you @mostlymaudlin for the tag <3 tagging @facewithoutheart @martsonmars @cutestkilla and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

68! Which is…wild. Six of them are songs though.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

126,027 - dang!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily the simon snow series and all for the game. I recently got into young royals so a few there as well, plus one each for a couple other shows I like.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Like rory my top 5 are all andreil! aftg has a large and voracious readership. Better than Sex (4k, T) / Eating Well (1k, T) / Needing/Getting (3k, T) / Friendly Neighborhood Vamp (.5k, T) / Soak up the Sun (.5k, T)

Rest under the cut!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Usually yes! Sometimes I go through spells of not replying…but I’m grateful for every single kudos and comment, it’s amazing and wonderful <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This is tough bc i love me a happy ending and i don’t really do angst anyway lmao. My joke answer is my crack andreil fic Monday, but maybe the real answer is my snowbaz fic+song Breakable bc I left off before things get fully resolved (but it is clearly hopeful imo).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The happiEST?? Hmmm. I think my overall Happiest fic might be like, Mon Chou? And Better than Sex. both of those are just like, gooey with happiness. And both have happy endings so I’ll say one of them. Actually from a different approach I’ll say my time loop fic has the happiest ending bc it’s probably the angstiest thing I’ve written haha so the ending is such a relief. 

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have not!! Super grateful for everyone who leaves lovely warm positive comments on my work <3333 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not on my own LOL. i do have some M/E fics in my works though thanks to some collabs (see Q13 lol) <3

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have not! I think about it sometimes….it’s just usually hard for me to imagine a world where all my blorbos live, even though I almost only write AUs…a mystery

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, which is wild!!! I think several of my Vandrew fics and BtS have been translated into russian. Thank you translators, you’re incredible. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! This was one of my most fun and treasured early fandom experiences with @facewithoutheart and @martsonmars <3 published results include The Chain (i was really just losing my mind in the doc while christina wrote tbh) and The Muse’s Waking which is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever (partially) written hahah

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Making me chooooooose ugh. Idk man i reread a snowbaz fic today and almost cried and they were my first fandom love so today i’m going to say them <3 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I recently picked up a fic i abandoned 2 years ago so now i’m like well never say never! But one that’s in my “this is in the past now” pile that i was just thinking about is my andreil Alex Rider (TV) AU. i actually had an idea for how to get around the bit i was stuck on while rewatching Alex Rider the other day sooo…. But likely still abandoned

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think, somewhat incongruously, 1) writing concisely and 2) setting a mood. I think both these things are true in say Weightless (andreil, 1k, T).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

PLOT. plot is so hard. That’s too broad of an answer so i’ll say, keeping multiple storylines/arcs progressing at once. I don’t do it much. It’s a fun challenge though. I usually write little one-shot, single-conflict fics bc that comes easier for me. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Love it. Not fluent in any other language enough to really do it justice but i’d like to.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I think i wrote some hp and some jane austen fic before i ever got into Fandom Proper lol. First published fandom was for the Simon Snow Series <3

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I think the one i’ve gone back to the most is Weightless. I set it in one of my favorite IRL places and it has tender blood drinking so. How could I beat that, really?

[kingwuko]

Hello! If you are still accepting asks: What is your favorite fic you've written? Why is it your favorite? Was any part of the writing process of that fic difficult for you? You are one of my absolute favorite authors so thank you for sharing your amazing talent with us!!!

Ohhh I'm ALWAYS accepting asks (seriously sometimes I feel like I'm begging people to send them lol)

Okay I really am proud of Secret. I'm going to say it's my favorite for the sake of this ask but I love all my fics equally. (I'm not just saying that 🤣) they're all special to me and I like the different stories I've been telling. But Secret really was amazing to write.

As for why? I've had the story in my head since I read Ruins of the Empire and the story itself is really special to me because I had been thinking about it for so long. I also was working through some of my own internal stuff through Wu's journey. I made online friends because of this fic and it got so many other Wuko shippers talking to me more; here and in discord. It was just so much fun to write and I'm really happy with how the whole story turned out!!! And the reception to it was just like. Heartwarming. I think I almost cried the first time I got an ask requesting a preview of the next chapter. Also. Not to get too sappy. But. It's my first finished longfic and finishing it felt like hard proof that my mental health had improved drastically (I had a very hard time during the pandemic. I started writing again once I got my mental health under control).

Writing Secret I certainly had moments where I struggled, and it was mostly related to the sex scenes. I've talked about this before but I had some struggles at first with some of the language I used to describe the different sex acts that were happening. But I had a very helpful beta reader and friend point out what I was doing and how to change my language AND very importantly gave me a mlm perspective to help me. Then I got SUPER in my head about the sex in the 6th chapter and I struggled with getting the words out. But as silly as it might sound, it was actually really important that I wrote the sex scenes explicitly (instead of, say, fade to black or whatever) because there was A LOT going on in Wu's head and character development during the actual sex. Also I like reading and writing sex scenes. 🤷

Besides the sex scenes. I did have to rewrite chapter 8. I wrote the whole fic really early on in my posting process, but I made tons of changes and edits. And when I edited chapter 7 I made a big change (the love confession was originally in ch 8 but those boys just couldn't wait that long I guess) and that changed the whole tone of chapter eight. I literally started from a blank page lol.

Thank you so so so much for the ask and the compliment and for reading!!! I know I write for myself but it's so heartwarming to hear that others actually like what I'm putting out there! It's also very good motivation for me to KEEP writing so please reach out anytime you want to talk about Wuko or my fics or whatever!!! There have been several occasions where I answered an ask and it inspired me to write some more so please don't be shy!!!

[suneeater]

odd bnha headcanons!

✎a/n: we had so much fun with these!! they're all just harmless headcanons that we thought of one day while joking around, so we thought to share them since we currently don't have time to write much^^

✰warnings: slightly nsfw

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐢.

she is a huge vocaloid fan, but her favourite is hatsune miku!

mei has tried to make several miku-bots in the past to try and replicate her, but none have managed to reach the divinity that is hatsune miku herself.

she will continue to try and make the perfect miku.

𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐨.

mirio cries at sad pet commercials. all of them. even if they're completely and utterly horrible.

for example, that tiktok audio with the odd voiced-over dog: "I'm in heaven now!"... he cries at that too.

there could be a robbery going on, but that sounds more like a job for the police in his opinion. he's too busy scaling a tree to save a cat.

𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢.

he is a league-of-legends player

often plays with shigaraki, but he has absolutely no idea.

his online personality is the complete opposite from his usual self, and his every other word is a profanity.

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚.

everyone looks up to a hero, but her idols are the dallas cowboy cheerleaders.

her secret passion is knitting!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨.

sero refuses to set things like keys and his wallet down, so he uses his tape to stick them to the wall! can't lose something that you taped to the wall, now can you?

if he doesn't have pockets, he just tapes stuff on himself or kaminari.

has taped kaminari to the door once. aizawa just sighed deeply and told them to pay for a new one, because they broke it while trying to get denki off the door.

𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢.

denki has a relatively popular tumblr account!

one of the things he posts on there is fanfiction and "headcanons" about the heroes from his generation (mostly his friends; there are a LOT of bakugou and sero scenarios)

(kaminari denki is the secret fourth mod of suneeater?! /j)

people comment things like: "wow these feel so accurate! its like you actually know dynamight lol"' and kaminari just giggles in his room, kicking his feet on his bed

he's also really good at writing. like... really good. there is a popular theory that he's a famous YA author undercover, when really he has just absorbed different writing styles. he's read more books than his classmates might assume^^

he has anime girl cardboard cutouts and obsessively plays dating simulators! his favourite ones are mystic messenger (down bad for 707 and ZEN) and doki doki literature club! (really likes yuri!! she likes literature just as much as he does)

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

has an only fans and she is thriving on there.

she could post a photo of herself wrapped up in a winter jacket, but her fans would eat it up, no complaints!

𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬.

his friends joke that he is totally into trees. he has neither confirmed nor denied this accusation.

if you cut him open, you can count the rings inside to see how old he is.

𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐬.

he has a nest in his apartment. no further explanation needed.

𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫.

just like his hair and facial hair, endeavor can turn his pubes into flames.

𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚.

aizawa listens to weird asmr to help him sleep.

his favourites include "kawaii catgirl meows you to sleep :3 no speaking!" and "cat purring sounds 12 hours"

he slides his phone into his pillows case and he's asleep almost immediately.

he absolutely owns a flask.

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

often comes out with a bunch of books and other trinkets that just don't have any value at all, just have his face plastered on it.

all might is a self help book author. most of the advice inside is something along the lines of "just smile!"

he often says "if you’re poor, just work harder" and cannot comprehend why poverty exists

if he didn’t suffer erectile dysfunction, all might would exclaim "I am arriving!" during sex

he’s got nasty yellow toenails like a true old man

which is how the all might pedicure arc starts

he asks midoriya to help him with it because he can't even bend down enough anymore:

‘deku… call my podiatrist. the number is on the fridge’

[the fridge covered in drawings and letters most of it is midoriya's fanmail. you can't even see the actual fridge.]

he wrote the number on the back of a drawing izuku made him - he uses midoriya's fanmail as paper - he knows he's gonna write more anyway

all might unironically makes poems, but they're super bad.

here's a sneak peek from his upcoming poetry collection "Always All Might, Never No Might."

꧁the sea is blue and the people cheer as i come down to swoop and save them the villain falls to his knees tears falling from his eyes i cough up some blood time is running out.꧂☆

[kradogsrats]

not really related to anything but if you are looking for a free writing platform that is not Google Docs, I am really enjoying novlr after abandoning iCloud Notes in a fit of rage after it lost several hours of work like three times in a row

it's got a nice, clean UI, a good organization system, and it also pops up these cute little encouraging notifications when you hit daily word count milestones or maintain a streak of writing every day, which I think you can even configure what your daily goals are if you're into that kind of thing??? I think it also has some kind of integration with NaNoWriMo but again I'm not into that so I didn't look hard

but most importantly for me it has rich text formatting (NOT markdown, I fucking HATE markdown) that copy/pastes BEAUTIFULLY into AO3, like I did not have to correct ANYTHING... you don't even want to know the shit I was going through to format the garbage coming out of iCloud, like it would take an hour in an HTML editor to clean up 5k words, and then novlr's output is like 99.5% PERFECTLY clean HTML I almost cried

the downsides are that it does not have an app, and while it looks like they've made a lot of effort to have the mobile browser version be just as usable I haven't personally tried it enough to be like "yes this is 100% a good option for phone writing" bc I write less on my phone now, and some features like spell/grammar check are locked behind a paid account... but I wasn't getting spellcheck from iCloud Notes either so I personally lost nothing there, I just don't check spelling until right before posting lol

ANYWAY recommend if you do browser-based writing and hate Google Docs but are not serious business enough for Scrivener or the other heavy-duty paid shit

[crowandmoonwriting]

Get To Know My OCs

Thank you for the tag @elshells! This looks like so much fun!

For this, I'll be using Aderyn and the Usurper (referred to also as the King), from my WIP On Crimson Wings. I'm very excited to show off their dynamic and their personalities. I'm not used to writing second-person POV, but I'll do my best lol.

The tavern is warm, filled with the fragrances of mead, ale, rosemary, and roasting meat. It is a welcome respite from the frigid Merovyn winter outside, and you settle in comfortably to meet the King and his closest advisor. They come in promptly, two tall, handsome men of long shining hair and brilliant eyes, their pale cheeks flushed and ruddied, snow glimmering in their hair and on their winter cloaks.

Aderyn is unmistakable, a slender young man of ruby-red hair and large, thoughtful (almost fearful) eyes. His tunic is the same colour as his eyes, rich emerald velvet, edged in simple gold embroidery. His eyes seldom leave the King at his side. He is expectant, nervous, and all the gossip you have heard about his looks are true. He is a beauty, androgynous, graceful. You notice the King does not look away from Aderyn either.

The King himself is clad like a thief, in worn blackened leathers, with a shortsword at his waist and a simple knife strapped to his thigh. He wears a wolfish smile, guarded but charming, and he says something quietly to Aderyn which makes him blush. The King's regality shows in his bearing, in the obvious strength of his slim but muscular physique, and in his characteristic raven hair. As he finally spots you, you see his strange violet eyes are filled with many colours, sparks of fire like those in the depths of an opal. They match the opal ring on his right hand.

They approach, and after ordering (juniper mead for Aderyn, blackberry mead for the King), they settle in for the interview.

1. Are you named after anyone?

The King: No. I was named after several virtues in my mother tongue, as is customary among my people. Whether or not I embody such virtues is...up to debate. {he smirks}

Aderyn: My name comes from the ancient Merovynian word for red topaz.

The King {looks at Aderyn's hair fondly}: I wonder why.

2. When was the last time you cried?

The King: The King doesn't cry! {laughs} Like three days ago.

Aderyn: Oh, well...maybe three days ago.

3. Do you have kids?

The King: Oh no! I'm not what you call the marrying kind, if you catch my drift.

Aderyn: The marrying kind? I suppose I'm not either. {he and the king share a look, as though they're sharing a secret}

The King: And it would be unkind, wouldn't it, for the poor thing to be born a bastard? I wouldn't want to do that to a child, at least in this country.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

The King: Never! Do I look like the kind of man who would be sarcastic? {he says this with a heavy dose of sarcasm}

Aderyn: Now and again, especially when His Majesty teases me.

The King: Oh, it's all in good fun, huh? {he slings his arm around Aderyn, who blushes}

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

The King: Their outfits, of course!

Aderyn: Their eyes.

6. What's your eye color?

Aderyn: Green.

The King: {blinks, fluttering his eyelashes} Many colours, so I'm told, but mostly violet.

7. Scary Stories or Happy Endings?

Aderyn: Happy endings, certainly.

The King: Scary stories with happy endings! I like a bit of adventure, a bit of danger, you know? Suppose I wouldn't be king if I didn't, eh?

8. Any special talents?

Aderyn: I am a fair horseman.

The King: He's being modest. He's the most brilliant horseman I've ever had the honour of meeting. Horses adore him, and his seat is perfect.

Aderyn: {blushes} Really, Your Majesty.

The King: I'm not so modest! I'm an excellent swordsman. I've never been bested. {he taps the hilt of the sword at his side} Never leave home without it.

9. Where were you born?

Aderyn: In the far east of Merovyn, in my family estate near a small town. Quite a boring place. I much prefer court and the capital. {his eyes shift to the side; is he telling the truth?}

The King: The far east as well, though further east than Aderyn's estate perhaps. {he also seems to be lying, or at least hiding something}

10. What are your hobbies?

The King: Hunts, tournaments, festivals, plays, getting drunk on cheap ale and going for rides to the mountains. All with Aderyn, preferably. There's no better company.

Aderyn: {rubs his cheek as though to wipe away his flush} I love to read, particularly volumes of history.

The King: He enjoys a good chivalric romance or two as well.

Aderyn: Your Majesty!

11. Do you have any pets?

The King: There's my horse, Bastard! He's sort of a pet. Although I've always wanted a kennel of dogs. Not for hunting, I wouldn't want to endanger them. Dogs are so loving!

Aderyn: The horse that his Majesty gifted to me, a fine white stallion. I would love to have a dog too, though. Or a cat.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

The King: Is hunting a sport? Tournaments, jousting?

Aderyn: If so, both of us do that, quite often.

The King {smirking}: Wrestling.

Aderyn {glares at him}: I suppose.

13. How tall are you?

The King: In your measurements, I am six feet and six inches.

Aderyn: I am five feet, ten inches.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Aderyn: History.

The King: Lies! {laughs} He likes poetry. I love poetry too, but history as well, and languages, ooh, and music, who could forget about music? Art, though, that's so important, so very important...

Aderyn: Yes, but a favourite, Your Majesty.

The King: Well, everything is my favourite! Except for mathematics, I suppose...

15. Dream job?

The King: Honestly? A farmer. With a great big farm with many animals, far away from people. With a garden and enough to sustain me and my family. A little cottage near a river, woods nearby, mountains.

Aderyn: A peaceful life. {nods} Yes, that sounds ideal. As a noble, I've seldom thought of 'jobs,' but I could be a farmer.

The King: Oh? You could be a wonderful horse-trainer.

Aderyn: {looks at him fondly} I could train horses at the farm.

On Crimson Wings taglist (ask to be added!): @angie-j-kay

This was sooooo much fun! Can you tell these idiots are in love?

Tagging (if you've already done this feel free to ignore!): @sam-glade, @lola-theshowgrl, @contes-de-rheio, @birdy-boy, @moonshinemagpie, @thewritingsofevbrowne, @thewardenofwinter, @chromehoplite, @nerdishwrites, and anyone who sees this and wants to do it!