#i love the trope of friends helping each other i really do. its very much found family in its own right

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He  complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle.  Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be."  He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

[kingofbodyrolls]

Deep Dive (m) | knj

You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals.

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au, soulmate!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff, smut, angst + a very small sprinkle of comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 19.8k → Warnings (general) + triggers: not much, honestly it’s all very very fluffy, lovey dovey and cute (you’ll probably get a cavity). There’s also a lot more lore and worldbuilding in this one compared to the others, as this is the first time we’re properly introduced to the seacity🧜It’s also rather existential and philosophical.  → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), oral (male and female), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, love making, kissing, breast play (licking, sucking, biting), handjob, fingering, clit play, hair pulling, creampie, very brief cockwarming. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note(1): I really don’t know what happened when writing this one; my fingers totally slipped and most of this is just world building 🫣 At least I had a shit ton of fun writing it! I tried to make the smut a bit different than I normally do, because I just feel like what I write is getting very repetitive… So I tried changing the pace of it a bit, but I don't know if it worked or not. Anyway, I really hope you like this one too, and I managed to finish it before Namjoon’s birthday, which means I’ll release it on that day 🥳 Please do let me know what, and if you liked it, and if you’re excited for the rest of the mermaid stories ✨

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

The boat sways gently with the rhythm of the waves, each crest and trough sending a flutter through your stomach, a tantalizing whisper of the adventure awaiting below. The sea has always been your muse, its vast, enigmatic depths a sanctuary where you’ve carved out your own livelihood. As a freelance scuba diver, you descend into the ocean’s embrace, hunting for hidden treasures—crystals and gems, and occasionally, the rarest of finds. These treasures are not just artifacts; they are fragments of the earth’s ancient soul, preserved in the watery depths.

Hae, your best friend and partner in this aquatic quest, stands beside you, her hands steady as she helps you prepare for the dive. She runs a holistic and spiritual webshop called Soulful, a name that seems to capture the essence of her being—a blend of spirituality, sustainability, and an eye for the aesthetically divine. The gems and crystals you unearth find their way into her shop, where they are revered not just for their beauty, but for the energy they carry. The world has turned its gaze towards the mystical these days, and her shop has become a beacon for those seeking solace and healing in the arms of nature.

With your wetsuit snug against your skin, fins secured, and the weight of the oxygen tanks settling on your back, you feel the familiar thrill course through you. Hae hands you your goggles with a smile, and before placing the mouthpiece between your lips, you flash her a grin. “See you soon,” you say, voice laced with excitement. The small tool bag—your fanny pack of excavation tools—rests comfortably at your side, ready to assist in your quest for nature’s buried wonders.

You take a deep breath and plunge into the ocean, the water swallowing you with a resonant splash. As you breach the surface, your arms stretch forward, parting the water with a smooth, practiced motion. The ocean welcomes you, wrapping you in its cool, serene embrace. Here, beneath the waves, you are home, surrounded by the vibrant tapestry of sea life. Jellyfish drift by, their tendrils trailing like delicate threads of silk, while schools of tiny fish scatter at your approach, shimmering in the filtered sunlight that dances through the water. Deeper you dive, into the world where time slows, and the ocean whispers secrets long forgotten by the surface. The seafloor is a hidden gallery of nature’s artistry, where crystals and gems lie in wait, forged over eons by the earth’s elemental forces. Each one tells a story—of undersea volcanoes, tectonic pressures, and the alchemical dance of minerals. Hae often speaks of these gems as if they are living beings, infused with the spirit of the ocean itself, each one a relic of the deep’s quiet, patient creation.

You smile to yourself, recalling her poetic musings, almost as if you were reading straight from her website. But you know the truth behind the beauty—these crystals, formed through evaporation, precipitation, and the intricate dance of minerals, are more than just pretty stones. They are pieces of the earth’s heart, shaped by the hands of time and nature’s immense power. Sodium, magnesium, calcium, potassium—their chemical symphony plays out in each crystal, each gem a unique testament to the forces that birthed it.

To you, they are not just beautiful—they are a testament to the majesty of the natural world, a tangible link to the planet’s deep, unspoken history. Hae’s customers, too, are drawn to this connection, to the knowledge that each crystal was not mined en masse, but discovered and unearthed by your hands alone. This makes each piece not only ethically sourced but also one-of-a-kind, carrying with it a story that can never be replicated. And then, there’s the healing. The myriad of spiritual properties attributed to these gems opens another world entirely, one that you and Hae have only begun to explore. It’s a world where science and spirituality entwine, where the physical and the metaphysical dance in harmony. But for now, as you dive deeper into the ocean’s embrace, you’re content to simply marvel at nature’s handiwork, knowing that whatever treasures you find will carry a piece of this underwater realm back to the surface.

A glint catches your eye in the distance, a shimmer that pulls you deeper into the ocean’s embrace. You’ve lost track of how far you’ve dived—perhaps just a few meters, or maybe more. Time seems to stretch and compress down here, as fluid as the water around you. A quick glance at your watch reveals that only ten minutes have passed, but you know you must be mindful of the oxygen left in your tank. Still, the ocean’s siren call urges you onward, tempting you with secrets yet to be unveiled.

Something blue sparkles ahead, its brilliance cutting through the murky depths, and you find yourself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Your body moves with the fluidity of the water, each motion a dance of instinct and harmony. Down here, you’re not just an explorer—you’re a part of the ocean itself, swaying gently in time with the currents. The source of the light reveals itself as you approach a small rock formation, where gems of varying shades of blue glisten like forgotten stars scattered across the ocean floor. Aquamarine, calcite, and amazonite—Hae’s voice echoes in your mind, recalling the knowledge she’s shared with you. Aquamarine, the “Sea Water Stone,” born from the cooling magma of the earth’s depths, its color an echo of the ocean’s own hues. It’s a stone that calms the mind, eases stress, and sharpens communication, a talisman of courage and clarity. Blue calcite, a crystal forged from calcium, carbon, and oxygen, soothes like a lullaby, its gentle presence calming nerves and quieting anxieties. It also opens the mind’s eye, enhancing intuition and inner vision. And then there’s amazonite, a gem you’ve always favored. Its cool blue-green tones speak to your soul, a “Stone of Courage” that promotes truth, honor, and positive communication. It balances the masculine and feminine energies within, weaving harmony into the fabric of life. You reach out, your fingers brushing the rough texture of the rock, marveling at the beauty before you.

Carefully, you pull out your tools—a smooth flat file and a soft silicone hammer—and begin to work. The gems yield to your skillful hands, and soon, you’ve gathered a small collection of aquamarine, blue calcite, and amazonite, each piece a perfect reflection of the ocean’s quiet majesty. You tuck them safely into your bag, their weight a comforting presence at your side.

But the ocean isn’t done with you yet. You swim further, your eyes scanning the seabed where kelp and other sea plants sway like ethereal dancers. A small cave catches your attention, its entrance barely large enough to accommodate you, but you’re compelled to explore. You squeeze through the narrow opening, and the sight that greets you steals your breath away.

Before you lies a treasure trove of green crystals, their surfaces shimmering like serpent scales. Serpentine—Hae has spoken of this gem, formed deep within the Earth’s mantle by the transformation of silicate minerals through water. This is your first time finding it, and you can’t help but marvel at its beauty, the green hues reminiscent of a forest hidden beneath the waves. You run your fingers over the rough surface, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within the stone. Carefully, you chip away a few pieces, their weight adding to the growing collection in your bag.

But the bag is heavy now, laden with the ocean’s gifts, and a glance at your watch tells you it’s time to return. With a reluctant sigh, you leave the cave behind, swimming back toward the surface, your heart still lingering in the depths. As you break through the water, the sunlight dazzles your eyes, and Hae is there, her hands reaching out to help you back onto the boat. The weight of your gear is a burden you’re glad to shed, and you push the bag toward her, eager to share your discoveries.

“Wow!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder as she sifts through the gems. “You really found a lot—and serpentine? You’ve never found that before. My customers are going to be over the moon!”

Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but smile. “That makes it all worth it,” you say, pulling off your hydro fin shoes with a satisfied sigh. “But I’m keeping one piece of serpentine for myself—it’s too beautiful to part with.”

Hae nods, still mesmerized by the treasures you’ve brought to the surface. The joy in her eyes is a reflection of your own, and you feel a deep contentment settle over you. The ocean has shared its secrets with you once again, and as you breathe in the fresh air, you know that the bond you share with the sea is stronger than ever.

You sail home under the setting sun, the ocean’s breeze carrying with it the scent of salt and adventure. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the boat lulls you into a state of serene satisfaction. Back on land, you join Hae in her cozy apartment, where the warmth of the evening light filters through the windows. Her small photo studio, a creative sanctuary tucked into a corner, is ready for the treasures you’ve unearthed. Together, you arrange the crystals with care, each one glistening like a piece of the ocean’s soul captured in stone. The camera clicks, preserving the gems’ beauty for the world to see, as Hae’s artistic eye transforms them into visions of wonder. The process is swift but meaningful, a quiet ritual that binds your shared passions. Soon, the crystals will grace her webshop, ready to bring a touch of the sea’s magic to those who seek it.

“This collection is huge, Namjoon,” Hoseok remarks with a warm smile, his gaze sweeping over the shimmering array of gems that adorn the older merman’s room. “There’s so much history embedded in these walls,” he adds, pointing to the meticulously arranged stones, and Namjoon feels a flush of pride rise to his cheeks. He’s poured countless hours into curating this collection, each gem—some calcite, larimar, jasper, peridotite, amazonite, and serpentine—bearing the weight of time and the ocean’s secrets.

Yoongi casts a sidelong glance at Namjoon and his prized collection, murmuring with a wry grin, “It’s impressive... but also incredibly dorky.”

Hoseok bursts into laughter, his joy so radiant that for a moment, Namjoon thinks they don’t need the sun in their underwater world—Hoseok’s light is enough to illuminate the depths.

“I’m not a dork,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms over his bare torso in an attempt to feign indignation, but his stern expression does little to sway the younger mermen. Their laughter echoes through the water, a melody of friendship that only strengthens the bond between them.

“Nerd, then,” Hoseok offers through another burst of laughter, his voice rippling through the water like bubbles rising to the surface. Yoongi, ever the skeptic, merely rolls his eyes, already weary of the conversation. Namjoon can sense that Yoongi’s thoughts have drifted elsewhere—likely back to his bed, where he longs to sleep away the rest of the day. But Namjoon’s heart beats with a different rhythm, one that craves adventure. He usually embarks on treasure swims with his friend Soo-ah, but she’s preoccupied with her fiancé, Seokjin, as they prepare for their upcoming wedding.

Namjoon casts a glance at his friends, hoping they’ll soon take their leave so he can slip away into the inviting embrace of the sea. The room feels too small for his restless spirit, and the ocean beyond the walls calls to him like a siren’s song. He had initially invited them over for their monthly book club, but the gathering has devolved into something else entirely—Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing at the protagonist’s ridiculous misadventures, and Yoongi, true to form, had forgotten to read the book altogether. The story, plucked from the land above, strikes Hoseok as particularly odd and amusing, especially since he’s never set foot on land himself.

“Book club’s over, right?” Yoongi asks with a resigned sigh, his voice heavy with fatigue, as if the very mention of reading has drained him further.

“Yeah, but do try to read the next book for next month,” Namjoon chides gently, though he knows his words will likely fall on deaf ears. Yoongi merely shrugs, not even bothering to pick up the worn book as he drifts toward the door. Namjoon watches them go, rolling his eyes as Hoseok flashes him a soft smile and a thumbs-up before they swim off to their respective homes.

As their laughter fades into the distance, Namjoon finally feels the freedom to pursue the adventure that has been stirring within him all day. The sea awaits, vast and full of mysteries, and he is eager to explore its depths once more.

Namjoon exhales a deep sigh, the weight of his thoughts momentarily heavy, but he renews his energy by nibbling on some fresh kelp. The taste is crisp and briny, filling him with the vitality he needs for the journey ahead. With a determined glint in his eye, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and sets off on his adventure. The sea has always been his home, its vast expanse a comforting embrace. His parents, both scholars dedicated to preserving the rich history of their underwater city, have instilled in him a love for the past. But while they focus on teaching the young minds of the city, Namjoon’s heart has always been drawn to the secrets hidden within the earth—gems and stones that hold their own silent histories.

He propels himself forward, his baby blue tail cutting through the water with graceful precision. As he gathers speed, the fish scatter in a dazzling display, their scales catching the light as they dart away. The underwater world rushes past in a vibrant blur of color, until something shimmering in the distance catches his eye.

Ahead, perched on a rock formation, are gleaming clusters of calcite and aquamarine, their surfaces dancing with the light that filters through the water. The sun’s rays, fractured by the waves above, cast a spectrum of blues across the gems, making them shimmer like the sky at twilight. Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat, as it always does when faced with such natural beauty. Each gem is a masterpiece of time and pressure, a testament to the earth’s patient artistry. He reaches out, reverently running his fingers over the cool, smooth surfaces, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within them.

He pulls out his tools, careful not to disturb the surrounding environment, and begins to collect a few of the precious stones. As he works, he remembers Soo-ah and selects a particularly radiant piece to bring back to her, a token of their shared love for the ocean’s treasures.

But his heart skips a beat when he notices something unsettling—many of the gems have already been harvested, leaving only a few scattered remnants behind. A frown creases his brow as he wonders who could have beaten him to this spot. None of his friends share his passion for collecting gems. Sure, Taehyung enjoys gathering trinkets and curiosities, but stones have never been his interest. The thought of another collector in these waters feels strangely alien, a mystery that tugs at the edges of his mind.

Who else, he wonders, could be drawn to these underwater treasures with the same fervor that drives him?

You find yourself submerged once more, the embrace of the ocean welcoming you into its depths as you embark on yet another treasure hunt, eager to unearth new crystals. Your path leads you back to the familiar cave where you previously discovered the serpentine and calcite, their beauty still vivid in your memory. Yet, something feels different this time—there are fewer crystals adorning the rock formation and scattered across the seabed. The ocean’s depths, a canvas for nature’s exquisite artistry, have always been a sanctuary for the many fascinating crystals that dwell there. But you’ve never encountered another diver who collects them as passionately as you do. The realization leaves you momentarily puzzled, until a flicker of purple catches your eye in the distance.

Intrigued, you glide through the water with graceful urgency, approaching the new discovery. As you draw closer, you recognize the delicate gray and rose-hued crystals as lepidolite, known for its ability to enhance astral travel and lucid dreaming. You’ve rarely come across these gems in your dives, and even now, only a few precious stones cling to the rock formation. Carefully, you retrieve your tools and begin to collect the lepidolite, tucking each piece into your bag with a sense of reverence.

Continuing along the seabed, you pass by schools of vibrant fish, their colors a blur of life around you, until something extraordinary catches your attention—massive aquamarine crystals, far larger than any you’ve ever seen before. They seem to pulse with a quiet energy, drawing you in with their mesmerizing blue hue. As you approach with a gentle hand, you feel an inexplicable connection to the gems, as if they are whispering tales of the ocean’s mysteries and the magnificence of the world beneath the waves.

Gingerly, you touch the aquamarines, and a surge of calm washes over you, a tranquility deeper than anything you’ve ever experienced. The sensation is strange, yet profoundly soothing, as if the ocean itself is sharing its serenity with you. 

Taking your time, you inspect the crystals, standing tall on a rocky pedestal surrounded by pink sea bushes and kelp that sways in the water’s current. A few curious fish glide by as you carefully chip away at the base of the crystal, hoping to extract a substantial piece. When you finally succeed, you notice something peculiar—the crystal’s twin, the piece that once stood beside it, is missing. The jagged edge where it was removed is unmistakable. The question lingers in your mind, unsettling and persistent: Who has taken the other piece?

As you wonder who else might be drawn to the allure of these hidden gems, your hands continue their careful work, collecting a few more of the larger pieces, along with several smaller ones. You know that the smaller stones, though modest in size, still carry the same potent energy as their grander counterparts, and some people cherish them all the more for their delicate beauty. Each crystal, whether large or small, holds within it the ocean’s quiet wisdom, waiting to be shared.

Gently, you tuck the treasures into your bag, the weight of them a comforting reminder of the sea’s generosity. With a final, lingering glance at the shimmering aquamarines, you propel yourself upward, your body moving effortlessly through the water’s embrace. As you break through the surface, the world above greets you with a rush of air and sunlight. Hae is there, her arms open wide, her smile as warm as the sun. She helps you back into the boat, her touch gentle and reassuring, as if she understands the wonders you’ve just encountered below.

Once you’re back in the boat, the weight of your gear feels heavier than ever as you remove it, but your heart is light with the excitement of your discoveries. You eagerly reveal your treasures to Hae, each crystal glinting in the sunlight as you lay them before her. With a grin, you hold up the largest aquamarine, its cool blue depths mirroring the ocean below. “This one’s mine,” you declare, the gem feeling like a piece of the sea itself in your hand. But then your tone grows more serious as you add, “I think there’s another diver out there collecting gems. So many were missing from the formation.”

Hae’s eyes widen, her smile fading into a look of concern. You can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, already strategizing, perhaps even considering whether it’s time to move to a new, more secluded spot. The thought of competition makes her uneasy, her gaze drifting over the precious stones as if they might vanish any moment.

Sensing her anxiety, you place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say with quiet confidence. “I’ll dig around, find out who it is. We’ve come too far to let this unsettle us.” Your words are meant to calm her, to remind her that together, you’ve weathered challenges before. After all, her webshop, with its unique blend of spirituality and sustainability, has always stood out in a sea of imitators.

Hae exhales softly, her tension easing as she meets your gaze. “Okay, thank you,” she murmurs, her hands gently gathering the remaining crystals, leaving you with your cherished aquamarine. The stone gleams in your palm, a symbol of the bond between you and the sea, and now, a silent vow to protect what you’ve both worked so hard to build.

The pull of the ocean is undeniable, a quiet voice in the depths of your soul that beckons you toward the gem, as if it carries the very essence of the sea within its crystalline heart. You know instantly that this piece belongs by your side, a reminder of the ocean’s mysteries and your bond with its vast, hidden world. The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water as you sail back to shore, the quiet lapping of waves a soothing lullaby.

Returning to your apartment, you flick on the light, the familiar space bathed in a soft glow as you carefully place your ocean gift on the nightstand beside your bed. The gem catches the light, its surface shimmering like the sea at dawn. With a contented sigh, you brush your teeth, the routine grounding you after the day’s adventure. But as you lay in bed, your mind drifts back to the ocean, and sleep comes quickly, filled with dreams of underwater realms and the treasures that lie beneath.

Yet, even in sleep, a question nags at you. For days, the mystery has lingered in your thoughts—who could be venturing into the depths to collect gems alongside you? Your research has led you nowhere, each inquiry a dead end. No diver you know is as daring, or perhaps as mad, as you, willing to plunge into the ocean’s deepest reaches. The puzzle gnaws at you, an itch you can’t quite scratch, and the frustration builds like a storm on the horizon. It feels as if the answer is just out of reach, hidden beneath the waves, and the more you dwell on it, the more it drives you to the edge of your patience, a riddle you are desperate to unravel.

Driven by a spark of determination, you’ve hatched a bold plan—to dive back into the depths and catch the mysterious intruder who’s been claiming your precious gems. Hae thinks it’s a dumb idea, but she indulges you, knowing your spirit is as restless as the ocean itself. And so, once again, you find yourself out on the boat, with Hae in the vast expanse of the ocean under the midday sun. The boat sways gently, a rhythmic dance on the water’s surface as you methodically pull on your gear—your oxygen tanks, goggles, and hydro fins. The final touch is your backpack, securely fastened to the tank, ready to hold whatever treasures you might uncover.

With purpose in your heart and a steely resolve, you press your arms together and plunge into the ocean’s embrace. The world above fades away as you descend into the deep, your body slicing through the water with graceful determination. Thoughts of the smaller boats you saw earlier linger in your mind, fueling your hope that this dive will lead you to your elusive rival.

As you dive deeper, the current cradles you, guiding your body as you sway with the ocean’s rhythm, until you reach the seabed. The familiar terrain unfolds before you, a place you’ve visited many times, yet now it feels different, touched by the presence of another. Only a few small gems remain, their glint a reminder of what’s been taken. You scan your surroundings—kelp sways like dancers in the current, fish dart about in a symphony of colors—but no sign of competition yet.

Undeterred, you press on, swimming further along the seabed, following the contours of rocky formations. Your heart quickens as you reach a familiar spot, the place where you once unearthed a magnificent aquamarine. But as you approach, your breath catches—the rock’s surface is nearly barren, the aquamarine all but vanished, save for a few remaining shards that catch the light. Your fingers hover over the stone, tracing the empty space where the gems once gleamed, now a haunting reminder of what’s been lost to unseen hands.

A sudden jolt, like a spark of electricity, tingles through your fingertips, and before you can react, a blur of blue fills your vision, distorting the world around you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze, but it remains—an ethereal presence in the water. Then, you feel a light, almost playful poke against your cheek, and a startled scream escapes into your mouthpiece, sending a cascade of bubbles spiraling upwards.

Instinctively, you jerk backward, heart pounding, as you struggle to comprehend what’s before you. No—this can’t be real. It’s not another diver. It’s not even human.

In front of you, suspended in the water like a living dream, is a merman. His face, heart-shaped and adorned with eyes like dragon-like darkened amber, is framed by short, blue hair that floats gently around his soft cheeks, jawline and pointed chin. Thin soft eyebrows arch over those wide, curious eyes—eyes that seem to hold all the wonder of the deep. His lips, thick and juicy are slightly parted in a soft ‘o,’ convey a mix of curiosity and surprise. Your gaze travels over his tall frame down to his bare chest, lean and strong, and then to the tail—an iridescent baby blue, shimmering with every subtle movement, a perfect extension of the ocean’s beauty. 

A wiggling tail instead of legs.

You blink again, desperate to make sense of the vision before you. A merman… It has to be.

He drifts closer, his tail flicking gracefully as he reaches out to poke your chin once more, his voice resonating through the water with an almost melodic quality. “Are you human?” he asks, his tone gentle yet filled with the wonder of a child discovering something new.

Your mind races, and you nod frantically, unable to speak with the mouthpiece still in your mouth, your feet paddling in the water as you fight to steady yourself. The reality of the moment crashes over you like a wave—this is no fantasy. A merman is right in front of you.

As your gaze falls on the backpack strapped to his shoulders, you notice a subtle shimmer, a gleam of something precious. In that instant, the pieces fall into place—he’s the one. He’s the mysterious collector, your unexpected rival in this underwater hunt for gems.

“I’ve seen humans before,” he continues, his voice carrying an almost casual tone as he swims around you, studying you like a creature from another world, “but I’ve never seen one dressed like you.”

Your heart aches to respond, to ask a million questions, but with the mouthpiece in place, all you can do is let him circle you, his eyes filled with an innocent fascination. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, each glance exchanged like a whispered secret between the ocean and the sun.

As you take in the sight before you, your eyes are drawn to a necklace resting against his chest, the small piece of aquamarine nestled between the firm contours of his titties—chest, you mean chest! The gem, cradled in the hollow where his muscles meet, glimmers softly, almost as if it’s alive with the very essence of the sea. You can’t help but stare in awe, the allure of it tugging at something deep within you. Thank heavens for your goggles, masking the blush that would otherwise give away your wandering thoughts.

“You look funny,” he remarks, his voice laced with innocent curiosity as he reaches out to grab one of your hydro fin shoes. The unexpected touch throws you off balance, and for a moment, you find yourself flipping weightlessly in the water, your body twisting like a leaf caught in a gentle current.

“Is this supposed to be like a mermaid’s tail?” he asks, holding your foot aloft as though it were some ancient relic to be deciphered. His brow furrows in concentration, and you can’t help but feel a mix of amusement and bewilderment at the sight.

Instinctively, you jerk your foot back, breaking free from his grasp, and you push against the water with frantic kicks, a glance at your watch reminding you that time is running out. As much as you wish to linger here, captivated by the merman’s presence, the pressing need to return to the surface propels you upward.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” he calls after you, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation, but you’re already too focused on reaching the surface to notice the distress in his expression. The thought of what could happen if you don’t make it in time isn’t one you’re willing to entertain.

Breaking through the water’s surface, you take off the mouthpiece and  gulp in fresh air, scanning the horizon until you spot your boat, a distant speck where Hae waits, the other vessels having long since disappeared. It seems manageable, this swim back to the boat, as long as you stay above water—your oxygen tank now empty, its weight a reminder of how close you cut it.

But before you can begin the swim, something solid collides with you, stopping you in your tracks. “Ow,” you exclaim, startled as you float backward, only to find yourself face to face with a familiar figure, his blue hair dripping wet above the waves.

“Hi,” the merman says with a smile, his dimples appearing like little pools of light in the sun. The simple word carries a warmth that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re lost in the easy charm of his grin, the ocean around you feeling suddenly smaller, as if it were just the two of you in this vast, endless world.

“Hi,” you greet him with a soft smile, still astonished that he followed you to the surface at all. A swirl of unspoken questions rises in your chest, but they tangle in your throat, leaving you staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless. The world seems to blur, save for the merman before you, his wet blue hair plastered against his forehead, his dragon-like eyes sweeping over you with a curious intensity, as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“What’s all that stuff you’ve got on?” he asks, pointing a slender finger at your goggles and then at the oxygen tanks strapped securely to your back.

“These?” you say, finding your voice as you point to your goggles. “They help me see underwater,” you pause, feeling the weight of the tanks pulling at your shoulders, “And these let me breathe while I dive—they hold the oxygen I need when I’m down there.” You gesture to the tanks behind you, your explanation feeling small in the face of his wide, unblinking curiosity.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding as if piecing together a puzzle. “Makes sense,” he says at last, though his gaze strays past you, catching sight of Hae waving from the boat that rocks gently on the surface, her silhouette framed by the scorching sun.

“I... I have to get back,” you mumble, pointing toward your friend, the words feeling heavy as they leave your lips. You try to steady your thoughts, but they swirl like the currents beneath the sea, a thousand questions dancing just beneath the surface, questions you don’t quite dare to voice.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, perhaps. “But before you go…” His voice halts your movements, drawing you back to him like the pull of the tide. You turn toward him again, heart fluttering in the quiet space between you, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next.

“What’s your name?” His voice is soft, carrying a gentleness that ripples through the water.

“It’s ___,” you reply, offering him a smile that’s both shy and warm.

“That’s pretty,” he says, and when his lips part into a smile, his dimples carve deep into his cheeks, making him almost impossibly cute, but dangerously so. 

“I’m Namjoon.” 

His name lingers between you like a secret, sweet and mysterious. “Will I see you again?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow raised in curious hope.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, the warmth filling your chest. There’s something about him—this enchanting creature of the deep—that makes you feel drawn in, like the tide itself is pulling you closer. You nod, the joy bubbling up inside you as you answer, “See you later, Namjoon.” There’s more than one reason you want to see him again. The unspoken questions whirl in your mind, but there’s also the thrill—because maybe, just maybe, you want to get your hands on the best crystals before he does.

As you turn and swim back toward Hae, your thoughts a mess of wonder and disbelief, a blush warms your cheeks. Did you just make a date with a merman? The thought sends a tingle of excitement through you. But when you glance back to where he was, Namjoon is already gone, having disappeared beneath the shimmering surface, like a dream fading with the dawn.

You finally make it to the boat, the sun still hanging high, bathing everything in golden light. As Hae helps you out of the water and hands you a towel, her eyes are wide with confusion. “Who was that? And how did he just vanish into the water like that, without any diving gear?”

“A merman,” you pant, peeling off your oxygen tanks and goggles. The words slip out of your mouth so naturally, like it’s something you’d say every day. Not the revelation of a magical creature, but a simple truth.

Hae stares at you, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A merman,” you repeat, more firmly this time.

“A merman?” she echoes, her voice faint and incredulous, as if the very idea is too fantastical to grasp.

“Yes. A goddamn merman,” you say, grinning wide as you meet her disbelieving gaze. “Scaly tail and all.” And then the absurdity of it all hits you, and before you know it, you’re laughing—a bright, bubbling sound that lifts the tension from your chest.

Hae blinks, her mind racing to catch up with the truth you’ve laid before her. When she finally does, her gaze shifts to the shimmering crystals you’ve collected, and without another word, she turns the boat towards home, lost in thought as the ocean waves lap against the sides. And all you can do is sit there, the excitement of your encounter buzzing through your veins, as you wonder about the next time you’ll meet Namjoon beneath the waves.

The next time you set sail, the open sea stretching endlessly before you, a current of giddy anticipation courses through your veins. Thoughts of the blue-haired merman, Namjoon, fill your mind, sparking excitement deep within your chest. Will he be there today, waiting beneath the waves? You wish you could speak with him underwater, to ask him the thousand questions swirling in your heart, but the surface would have to do for now. You can’t help but smile at the thought of seeing him again.

Hae steers the boat through the shimmering water, the horizon vast and infinite. As you slip on your gear and dive beneath the surface, the ocean’s cool embrace pulls you into its depths. You swim purposefully, eyes scanning the underwater world, searching for both gems and a glimpse of Namjoon. 

Suddenly, something blue catches your eye, sparkling in the distance. Your pulse quickens as you think, just for a moment, that it might be him. But as you swim closer, your heart sinks—it’s only a cluster of aquamarine, glittering like pieces of fallen sky. You feel a bit foolish, letting your hopes get the better of you. Shaking off the disappointment, you turn your attention to the task at hand, collecting the gems with careful precision, though your thoughts continue to drift back to the mysterious merman.

You move to a new spot, finding a hidden cave adorned with larimar crystals. The stones are breathtaking—swirls of blue, white, and gray blending like waves crashing upon a shore, smooth and radiant. The sight brings a smile to your face, the beauty of the moment settling into your heart. You gently gather some of the crystals, placing them in your bag with reverence, as if each one carries a secret.

Just as you’re about to leave the cave, a shadow falls across the entrance. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden presence. But then, the familiar voice reaches your ears, warm and apologetic, and you see him—Namjoon, his figure filling the space, his smile soft and full of quiet charm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand nervously scratching the back of his head, his eyes filled with a gentle sincerity.

Relief washes over you, and with a playful wave of your hands, you signal that it’s okay—that he needn’t worry. How you wish you could speak to him down here, let your words float freely in the water like the bubbles escaping from your gear. But for now, your gestures will have to suffice. Your smile says the rest—you’re just glad to see him again.

“You’re collecting crystals, right?” Namjoon asks, his voice cutting through the liquid silence as he gestures toward your already bulging bag. You nod in response, still catching your breath from the weight of the gems you’ve gathered.

“Do you want me to show you a cave with lepidolite?” he mumbles, his tone casual but a bit uncertain. “They’re pretty rare, but I know of a cave that’s full of them.” For a fleeting moment, you wonder if this is the ocean’s version of Netflix and chill, the awkwardness of the offer landing with the charm of a bad pickup line. You can’t help but smile at the thought. 

Still, you nod, knowing that Hae would be thrilled to get her hands on more lepidolite, and besides, you’re curious. You figure underwater Netflix and chill is a bit different from what you’re used to anyway.

Namjoon leads the way, his brilliant blue tail weaving effortlessly through the water, shimmering like sunlight caught in a sapphire. You trail behind him, captivated by the rhythmic sway of his form, the way his muscles ripple across his broad back like waves sculpted by some divine hand. You can’t help but wonder—do they even have gyms down here? The sight of him, so fluid and powerful, is mesmerizing, and before you know it, time seems to slip away, your focus narrowing to the subtle dance of his movements.

“This is the cave,” he suddenly announces, pulling you out of your reverie. You hadn’t realized just how long you’d been swimming, utterly absorbed by the quiet beauty of the journey and him.

You follow him inside, and the sight that greets you takes your breath away—deep violet lepidolite, sparkling in the dim light like stars scattered across a twilight sky. You’re awestruck by the sheer abundance, the rare gems nestled into the cave walls as if nature had painted this secret world just for you.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon giggles softly, his voice echoing gently through the cavern as you nod, too taken by the sight to speak. You pull out your tools, carefully beginning to gather the precious stones, all while feeling the warmth of his gaze lingering on you. His silent watchfulness stirs a strange flustered feeling inside, like he’s studying you with the same intensity you’ve used to admire him.

Once your bag is heavy with lepidolite, Namjoon takes you on a quiet tour of other hidden gem spots. Each place he shows you feels like a secret whispered by the ocean itself, and soon your collection grows so large that the weight of it tugs at you, as if the sea itself is trying to pull you back down. When Namjoon offers to carry your bag, you try to refuse at first, clinging to your independence. But as your arms grow heavy, you relent, watching in awe as he effortlessly takes your overloaded bag, slinging it across his broad frame with ease. He carries it as though the weight is nothing, his strength as graceful as the tides themselves.

With a raised arm, you gesture that it’s time to surface—your oxygen running low, the familiar ache of needing air settling into your chest. He seems to understand immediately, and together you ascend, the world around you turning brighter as you rise toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, you gasp in the fresh air, peeling off your goggles and mouthpiece, eager to speak to him in the open air. Namjoon surfaces beside you, droplets clinging to his skin as the sun catches the water in his hair, casting a shimmering halo around his smiling face.

“We should do this again,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “Wasn’t it fun?”

“It really was,” you reply with a smile, your heart still buzzing from the underwater adventure. “Thank you for showing me all those caves. My friend, Hae, is going to be over the moon,” you say, casting a glance toward the boat swaying gently in the distance.

“That’s great to hear,” Namjoon replies, his voice as smooth as the rippling waves.

A flicker of frustration tugs at your chest, and you bite your lip. “I just wish I could talk to you down there,” you admit, your words heavy with a longing that feels both simple and profound.

“It would be nice, yeah,” he muses, his soft smile brightened by the sunlight. “But I don’t mind coming up here to talk. I like the air up here too,” he adds with a gentle chuckle, his gaze warm and steady.

“I have so many questions,” you blurt out, the words escaping you before you can hold them back. There’s too much wonder bottled up inside you, too much curiosity, and it needs to spill over.

Namjoon laughs, a sound so genuine it feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Shoot,” he says, his dimples deepening like two small whirlpools at the corners of his mouth.

You pause, your mind swimming with possibilities, before settling on the most obvious. “Are you the only merman, or… are there more of you?” you ask, your voice tinged with awe.

“There are more,” he says with pride, his chest lifting slightly. “There’s a whole city beneath the sea—Naraeum, where we live.” His eyes gleam with the pride of someone who belongs to something ancient and wondrous.

A thrill runs through you at the revelation. An entire city of merfolk hidden beneath the waves. The thought makes your pulse quicken, the realization that you’ve stumbled upon something so extraordinary, so secret, that few on the surface could even imagine it. You feel as if you’ve been let in on the universe’s greatest mystery, and it fills you with a giddy excitement that hums like electricity in your veins. 

“Are there cities or kingdoms beneath the waves? What are they like?” you ask, your voice soft with curiosity, eager to glimpse the world he calls home.

Namjoon’s eyes light up with a quiet pride. “Naraeum is a vast kingdom,” he begins, his words gentle yet full of wonder. “There’s pink coral stretching as far as the eye can see, ancient golden buildings weathered by time, and bright green kelp that sways like dancers in the currents. Dark caves hide beneath the surface, teeming with life—fish, crabs, creatures of every kind. And at night, everything glows with bioluminescent light, turning the ocean into a dreamscape.” A faint blush rises on his cheeks as he adds, “Maybe I can show you one day.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought of seeing an underwater kingdom beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. “That sounds unbelievable. I’d love to see Naraeum,” you say, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling within you. The idea of diving so deep, into a world untouched by human hands, feels too surreal to grasp.

“There are other cities too,” Namjoon continues, a smile tugging at his lips. “Some are smaller, some are larger, but Naraeum is like the heart of our region, the capital of sorts,” he adds, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

Your mind whirls with possibilities, questions tumbling out before you can stop them. “Do you have art? Music? Stories? How do you create them underwater?”

Namjoon laughs, a full-bodied sound that echoes across the waves. “We do,” he replies with a sparkle in his eyes. “Human books, for one—we’ve learned to preserve them so they don’t dissolve. Otherwise, we etch our stories on stone, carving our history into the bones of the sea. For music, we use instruments that echo your drums, flutes, and strings, but they’re crafted from merfolk hair, delicate yet strong.”

He pauses, a wistful look crossing his face. “Naraeum is ancient, filled with art and stories older than any of us. But,” he adds, adjusting the heavy bag on his back, “I fear I don’t have enough time to share them all right now. This bag,” he says with a light grin, “is starting to weigh me down.”

“Oh right, the bag!” you exclaim, snapping back to reality as a wave of panic ripples through you. You mentally scold yourself for letting the moment sweep you away, your feet kicking gently against the water as you make your way toward the boat. Namjoon swims by your side, effortlessly graceful, his shimmering tail flickering beneath the surface. 

Hae is there, waiting with a patient smile, and as she pulls you aboard, you reach out to take the heavy bag from Namjoon’s hands. “Thank you so much,” you say, a warm smile spreading across your face despite the unspoken whirlpool of questions still swirling in your mind. You wish you could ask him everything, but those wonders will have to wait.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Namjoon replies, his voice soft like the lull of the ocean. His own smile is tender, a quiet acknowledgment that leaves you feeling light despite the weight of the bag. 

Hae chimes in with a grin, “So, you’re the famous merman,” she teases, still a little wide-eyed as Namjoon flashes his bright blue tail above the surface, the sight leaving her speechless. The tail vanishes just as quickly, a flicker of the magic below.

“I’ll have to go now,” Namjoon says, his voice carrying a gentle farewell as he begins to swim backward, his gaze lingering on yours. “But I’ll see you again soon, ___.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, and despite yourself, you smile and wave, heart fluttering in a way that’s both exhilarating and unsettling. You watch him dip beneath the waves, his form disappearing into the deep blue, leaving the water still and the air quiet.

Hae turns to you with a knowing look. “You’ve got a crush on the merman, don’t you?”

You can’t deny the warmth spreading through you, but you push the thought aside, the reality of it sinking in. He’s a merman. You’re human. It feels impossible, like something from a dream. But maybe—just maybe—being friends isn’t out of reach. Friends, you think, as if convincing yourself. That can’t hurt... right?

In the following weeks, you find yourself swept into a world beyond imagination—each adventure with Namjoon feels like diving into a storybook of magic and wonder. He takes you to hidden underwater realms where gems glimmer like stars, and schools of fish, dolphins, and whales glide by as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as though the ocean has opened up just for you, revealing its secrets with every dive. The more time you spend with him, the stronger your heart tugs, pulling you deeper into your feelings. You try, futilely, to convince yourself you’re just friends, but every shared laugh, every meaningful glance, makes that harder to believe. 

Namjoon is an incredible friend, one who listens to your ramblings with genuine interest. His conversation is as vast and deep as the ocean itself, leading you into existential tangents that leave you pondering life and its mysteries long after the talks are over. You wish for more—there’s an ache that grows inside you—but how could that even be possible? He’s a merman, you’re human. It feels like some impossible fairy tale. Yet, you’ve caught him stealing glances, his cheeks tinged with blush, and sometimes he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter in ways you can’t ignore. But does that mean anything? How do merfolk even love? You wonder if their hearts beat the same as yours.

One quiet afternoon, as you sit with the sun lazily dipping below the horizon on the boat, you find yourself asking the question that’s been gnawing at your mind. “Are there any consequences if a merman falls in love with a human?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. 

Namjoon, floating beside the boat, nearly chokes on the beer you brought him, his laughter turning into a cough as he searches for air. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “There aren’t really... any consequences,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning pink. His eyes flicker nervously to your lips, then meet your eyes again, a quiet vulnerability swimming in their depths.

Good to know, you think, your heart skipping a beat. But before the blush overtakes you, you scramble to change the subject, your curiosity pulling you in another direction. “Is there magic in the ocean, like the old legends say? Can you control it?”

He laughs softly, the sound like the ebb and flow of waves. “There is magic, but no, I can’t control it. None of us can. There’s a Sea Witch, though—she’s the only one with that kind of power, as far as I know.” His words are laced with mystery, and your mind spins with possibilities.

“Can merfolk live forever?” you ask, half-dreaming of a life that stretches beyond the boundaries of time.

“Yes and no,” he replies, his voice thoughtful. “We can live for so long it feels like forever, but we’re not truly immortal.” His gaze drifts across the water, as if pondering the weight of time itself. 

“Interesting,” you murmur, your thoughts swirling. “What happens when a merperson dies, then? Is there an afterlife?”

Namjoon’s smile is wistful as he explains, “When a merperson dies, we hold a celebration—a spiritual send-off, really. There’s singing, dancing, it’s more of a party than a funeral. We celebrate their journey into the afterlife.” You must look puzzled because he quickly adds, “In the afterlife, we become ghosts. But if friends and family don’t send you off properly, there’s a chance the spirit might come back to haunt them.” He chuckles lightly, and you gasp, wide-eyed at the thought.

A cool breeze dances over the water, and for a moment, the world feels suspended between reality and the dreamlike expanse of the sea. You sit there, awed by the depth of his world, your heart both heavy with questions and light with wonder. And in that moment, despite the impossible distance between your two worlds, something seems to shift—something delicate and unspoken. You don’t know what the future holds, but maybe, just maybe, there’s magic enough to bridge the divide.

He passes the beer back to you, and you take a gentle sip, letting the taste linger without wanting the haze of drunkenness to settle in. Out here, in the middle of the endless ocean, everything feels both vast and intimate. A small taste is enough.

“Do you ever feel lonely in the vastness of the sea?” you ask, a quiet melancholy softening your voice as you gaze out at the seemingly endless horizon. The sea is breathtaking, yes, but the weight of its endlessness stirs something in you—a humbling reminder of how small one can feel in such a world.

“Sometimes,” Namjoon admits, his head dipping as his gaze finds the water. “There are moments when the ocean feels too big, too quiet.” His voice is soft, vulnerable. “But I have good friends,” he continues with a faint smile, “and I have my books when the solitude feels too heavy.” He looks at you with eyes warm and reassuring, as if to say that the sea might be vast, but he’s found beauty in its stillness.

“Oh, what books do you like?” you chuckle lightly, trying to brighten the mood, though his quiet sincerity tugs at your heart.

“Human books,” he replies with a gentle grin. “I love historical tales, but fiction is my favorite—stories that let me dream of other worlds.”

You smile, curiosity dancing on your lips. “What kind of fiction? Should I bring you some next time?” The words tumble out before you can catch them, your eagerness spilling over into the space between you.

A blush blooms across his cheeks, so deep it even colors the tips of his ears. In a shy, almost bashful voice, he says, “I... I like romance.” His admission is soft, as if he’s unsure of how it will land.

You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with affection. There’s no shame in it, not to you—if anything, it’s endearing. “I have some romance books I can bring next time, if you’d like,” you offer, your voice gentle, feeling the warmth of your words fill the space between you.

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle, a soft wonder lighting them up as his blush deepens. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his voice as tender as the evening breeze.

The sun has begun to sink lower, casting a golden glow over the water. Namjoon glances at the sky, then back at you with a smile that feels like the closing of a chapter. “It’s getting late. I was thinking... next time, I could show you Naraeum.” His voice is proud, almost glowing with the thought. “If we go at night, the whole kingdom shines,” he adds, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he recalls the bioluminescent beauty he once described to you.

Your heart leaps at the thought. “I’d love that,” you say, feeling the pull of the ocean’s magic once more. “I’ll ask Hae to man the boat, so I’m not alone when it’s time to head back.”

Namjoon nods, his smile softening as the sun dips lower, its light casting golden hues over both the water and his blue hair. “See you soon,” he says, waving as he begins to slip beneath the surface.

You wave back, feeling the warmth of his presence linger, even as you sail toward the shore, the fading sunlight a reminder that the ocean holds many mysteries yet to be uncovered. And with each adventure, your connection to him deepens, like a current pulling you both to something inevitable.

"I’m telling you, you’re totally whipped, man," Yoongi says with a playful eye roll, his voice teasing but laced with truth.

“I’m not,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms defensively, but deep down, he knows resistance is futile. His friends have been relentless, teasing him ever since you entered his life—how his smile stretches wider, brighter, after spending time with you, how your name slips into conversations that have nothing to do with the human world. It’s like you’ve seeped into his very soul. He knows he’s fallen, and fallen hard, but the weight of his feelings confuses him. He has no idea how to navigate them, unsure of your heart, or if you could even feel the same pull toward him. And how could it ever work between you two? The thought of venturing onto land to be with you dances through his mind like a fragile dream, but there’s a storm of questions swirling beneath the surface—questions he’s too afraid to ask, too scared to drown in all the unknowns.

“Just don’t get your heart broken,” Yoongi mutters, his voice softer now, tinged with caution. Namjoon nods, the words settling heavily in his chest like stones sinking to the ocean floor.

“Hey man, don’t throw your past experiences at Joonie like that!” Jimin chimes in, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder, a little too forcefully judging by Yoongi’s wince. “If he’s in love, he should go for it. Take the dive, see where the current leads him,” the blonde merman insists, eyes sparkling with mischief and optimism, trying to fill Namjoon’s heart with hope, pushing away the shadows Yoongi’s cynicism casts.

Namjoon, though, can only sigh. “I just don’t know…,” he mumbles, fingers trailing along the spines of his beloved books, rearranging them in some futile attempt to quiet the storm inside him. Anything to busy himself, anything to keep thoughts of you from consuming him. But it’s hopeless—why does his mind keep drifting back to you, like the tide, relentless and unyielding?

“It will never work,” Yoongi shrugs with a quiet scoff, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s seen too many relationships slip away. His words linger in the air, heavy like the deep sea.

Jimin, unphased, shoots him a scolding glare. “You never know that,” he says firmly. “Just because your love life’s been a shipwreck doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else.” There’s a sharp edge to his words, a flicker of irritation.

“And look at Seokjin and Soo-ah!” Jimin adds, his voice lifting again, the gleam of an idea flickering in his eyes. “Soo-ah was human once too, remember? She turned mermaid for love. Maybe ___ would want to become a mermaid as well? Who knows what fate has in store,” he grins, ever the romantic, eager to plant seeds of possibility in Namjoon’s mind.

Namjoon’s heart stirs at the thought, but even the idea feels like a dream too distant, too fragile to reach. Could you really be part of his world? Could love, like the sea, find a way to bridge the impossible distance between you?

“I would never put that on her. She has a life—one she’s likely content with on land. I couldn’t ask her to leave it behind,” Namjoon says, his voice laced with breathless resignation, as though the weight of his own feelings has left him deflated, crushed beneath the impossibility of it all. 

“She’s a good friend. I’ll just... enjoy what we have for now,” he adds softly, placing the book you’d given him gently on his nightstand, his fingers lingering on the cover. He already treasures it, not for the words it contains, but because it came from you. Though he hasn’t yet reached the end, he finds himself lost in the pages, immersed in the tale of a woman struggling with feelings for her best friend—torn between preserving their friendship or risking everything for love. If Namjoon sees a reflection of his own heart in those pages, he’ll never admit it, not even to himself.

“Love sucks anyway,” Yoongi mutters, his voice sharp and bitter, like a wound still raw and bleeding.

“You’re killing the vibe, Yoon,” Jimin sighs, shaking his head as he swims closer to Namjoon, his energy warm and comforting. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin adds, draping an arm around Namjoon’s broad shoulders, trying to lift the weight that presses down on his friend. “He’s the last person you want advice from when it comes to love. He’s forgotten what it means to believe in it.” Jimin shoots another glare at Yoongi, who merely shrugs, unmoved.

Namjoon lets out a weary sigh. He likes you—no, more than likes you. Perhaps he’s even in love, but he’s still learning to come to terms with that revelation. What if telling you his feelings drives you away? What if, in confessing his heart, he loses the precious friendship you’ve built together? You, who’ve brought laughter and life into his days. He’s never been close to a human before, not like this, and the thought of losing you weighs heavier than the ocean above him. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ventured to land before, tasted fleeting moments with humans—flings that flickered out as quickly as they began. But this, you, feel different. And he’s in deep water now, uncertain of the way forward. It doesn’t matter to him that you’re human. If you were a mermaid, he doubts it would make things easier. What draws him to you isn’t your species, it’s your soul. 

It’s the way your hair dances in the wind, or how it clings to your skin when it’s soaked from the sea. The way your cheeks flush red, that soft blush that dusts even the bridge of your nose. The way bubbles rise and swirl around you when you dive beneath the waves, how your lashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The way your presence calms the storm inside him, as though you carry the quiet strength of the sea itself.

Yes, Namjoon thinks, his heart heavy with the undeniable truth. He’s got it bad.

“Hae, I don’t know what to do,” you sigh, the weight of indecision pressing down on you as you sit at the coffee shop, staring at the steam rising from your untouched cup. You feel like you could pull your hair out, frustration boiling inside as you wait for the coffee to cool, though it’s really your emotions that need calming.

The midday sunlight filters through the window, casting soft golden light over your table, but you can’t appreciate the warmth. Your mind is too restless. What are you supposed to do with these feelings?

“It’s actually quite simple,” Hae says, her tone far too casual for the magnitude of what you’re feeling. She takes a sip of her coffee—how does she drink it so scalding hot?—and you scoff softly, half out of envy, half in disbelief at how calm she seems. “You just have to talk to him.”

You groan, the sound louder than you intended, pulling curious glances from the tables around you. Embarrassed, you lower your voice, but the frustration lingers, tugging at your insides like a tangled knot. 

“It’s not that easy,” you say, pushing your coffee aside. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if I ruin everything between us?” Your voice drops to a whisper as your hands fall to your lap, palms sweaty and clammy. “How would it even work? He’s a merman, Hae. I... I’m just me.”

Hae raises an eyebrow, amused. “Girl—have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you?”

You blink. “What do you mean? He looks at me... normal.”

She gives you a look that suggests you might be the most oblivious person on the planet. “Nah. He looks at you like he’s ready to drown in your eyes—like you’re his whole world.”

Her words hit you like a sudden wave, stealing your breath for a moment. Could she be right? You’ve never seen Namjoon look at you like that, at least not in a way you could recognize. 

“Really?” you whisper, unsure, heart fluttering with both hope and fear.

“Yes,” she emphasizes, laughing a little as she sets her cup down. “You’re kinda stupid for not noticing.”

You finally take a tentative sip of your now-warm coffee, trying to hide the way her words unravel you. As the warmth settles in your chest, your mind starts racing, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Namjoon, all the times he’s looked at you, spoken to you with that gentle smile. Had there been something more in those glances? Had you been too blind to see it?

“You should confess your feelings,” Hae says, matter-of-fact, sipping her coffee like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it’s not that simple, not for you. The thought of baring your heart feels like standing at the edge of a precipice, with no way of knowing if there’s solid ground beneath you—or a fall. What if she’s wrong? What if you’re wrong? 

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know if I can. What if I ruin our friendship? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Hae gives you a knowing look, but you’re already spiraling, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe... maybe you could watch him a little longer, try to see what she’s seeing, catch more evidence that there’s something there, something more. 

Because the risk of losing him over your feelings—that terrifies you more than anything.

It’s a few nights later, and the sea is a blanket of darkness as you and Hae venture out into its endless expanse. The sky above is nearly pitch black, save for the delicate shimmer of stars scattered like diamonds, casting faint light upon the inky water. The moon hangs low, its pale glow mirrored perfectly on the surface, creating a fragile bridge between the heavens and the sea. You pull Hae into a hug, murmuring your gratitude for her being here, for her unwavering companionship on this strange, otherworldly journey. She laughs softly, her voice breaking the silence of the night, and tells you she wouldn’t let you drown—not when she’s here to keep you safe. Her words bring a smile to your face, easing the quiet tension in your chest as you pull on your gear in the dark.

You slip into the water, the sea swallowing you whole. Beneath the surface, it’s as black as ink, the deep blue fading into a near-impenetrable navy that borders on oblivion. But there is no fear, only the pull of the unknown as you dive deeper, surrendering to the quiet pull of the ocean. Your breath is steady, your heartbeat louder in your ears than the sound of the waves above.

And then, there he is—Namjoon, his gentle smile waiting for you like a beacon in the depths, dimples carving softness into the darkness. His presence is steady, grounding, and for a moment, you forget you can’t speak, forgetting that the words you wish to say—I’m glad I’m here, thank you for this—are trapped behind the mask of your breathing gear.

Suddenly, his hand reaches for yours. The touch surprises you at first, a flicker of warmth against the cold of the sea, sending a soft spark up your arm, a silent current that makes your heart stutter. But then you relax into it, realizing how right it feels—his hand in yours, the silent understanding between you. It’s just a hand, you remind yourself, but even the smallest gesture carries weight in the depths of the sea.

“It’s dark,” he gestures to your joined hands, his voice a whisper through the water. “I’ll guide you.” You notice, even in the dim light, how his eyes shift nervously, and if the ocean weren’t so dark, you’d swear there was a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Together, you swim deeper, your hand still clasped in his as the world around you begins to change. In the distance, something gleams—a glint of gold, faint but unmistakable. As you draw closer, it becomes more defined, taking shape as towering structures rise from the seafloor like monuments from another world. Tall, ancient buildings glitter beneath the water, their surfaces gleaming with gold, adorned in intricate lettering and symbols you can’t begin to decipher. The curves and arches remind you of something familiar, some echo of human architecture, though far grander and more ancient than anything you’ve ever seen. These aren’t just buildings—they’re castles, palaces from a forgotten fairy tale. Everything is bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent light, soft blues and yellows emanating from plants that pulse like stars, making the entire city shimmer as if alive with magic. It’s breathtaking—otherworldly in its beauty—and you feel your breath catch in your throat, mesmerized by the impossible splendor before you. 

How many wonders exist beneath the surface, hidden from the world above? you think, the weight of it all is almost too much to grasp. That such a place could exist, a vast city of gold and light, thriving in the deep—how could you have never known?

“Welcome to Naraeum,” Namjoon says, his voice soft, gesturing toward the city center that teems with life. Merpeople of all shapes, colors, and ages drift through the streets, some lost in their own rhythms, others laughing and chatting, and children darting through the water in playful games. The whole scene is alive, vibrant, and full of warmth, and the sight of it fills you with something indescribable—joy, wonder, perhaps even belonging.

A smile spreads across your face, unbidden, as the reality of this magical place settles over you. For the first time, you feel like you’ve truly discovered something beyond the world you’ve known, something boundless and beautiful. And with Namjoon beside you, it feels like you’ve only just begun to understand its depths.

“This is the city hall,” Namjoon gestures toward the tallest of the castles, its golden spires reaching upward like fingers trying to touch the ocean’s surface. “The royal family lives there too.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to his words, something ancient and significant about the building that looms over the city like a silent guardian.

You glance at him, blinking, wishing you could ask more, the curiosity burning inside you. If only you could speak, but the water and the mouthpiece keep your questions trapped behind your lips. The tug of his hand interrupts your thoughts, and once again you’re being gently pulled deeper into the heart of Naraeum, where the city unfolds like a dream in slow motion.

The water sways with life—delicate kale and other greens move in rhythm with the gentle currents, shells glint beneath the sandy floor, and tiny crabs scuttle between the rocks, oblivious to your presence. Shoals of fish—bright yellow, orange, and black—dart past, their quicksilver bodies flashing through the twilight water. And now, the eyes of the merpeople are on you. Their gazes, curious and shimmering, follow you as you move through their world, and for the first time, you feel like a true visitor in a land not your own.

Three merpeople approach, their figures graceful and effortless in the water. One, a striking merman with a pink tail that shimmers like rose quartz in the dim light, looks you over with an intensity that makes you feel seen in a way both comforting and unfamiliar. You notice his hand intertwined with a mermaid beside him, her tail a stunning shade of purple that gleams like amethyst. Together, they are radiant, like a pair of jewels. They look perfect together, you think, a bit in awe of how seamlessly they belong to this world.

“This is ___?” the pink-tailed merman asks, his voice smooth, his eyes darting to Namjoon for confirmation.

Namjoon nods, and the mermaid smiles, her face brightening with warmth. “Pleased to meet you,” she says, her voice light like a melody. “I’m Soo-ah, and this is my fiancé, Seokjin.” You nod in response, acknowledging them with a smile behind your mouthpiece, feeling a sense of camaraderie in their presence.

But before you can speak—or even think of what to say—your eyes catch on the third figure. A dark-haired merman with a tail the color of midnight, streaked with gold that glimmers like starlight. His aura is different—colder, detached. His black eyes flicker over you briefly, then, with a dismissive scoff, he turns away, arms crossed over his chest as if to close himself off from the world. 

Namjoon sighs, his voice edged with irritation, “That’s Yoongi.” The name comes out rough, almost an apology. “He forgot to take the stick out of his ass today.”

You can’t help but chuckle, bubbles escaping from your mouthpiece, rising toward the surface like tiny pieces of joy. Even in this underwater kingdom, humor survives, softening the tension. But Yoongi, unmoved, swims off into the shadows, his figure disappearing into the vastness of the sea. 

“Don’t mind him,” Namjoon mutters, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Come on, I want to show you the rest.”

Soo-ah and Seokjin swim alongside you as Namjoon leads you through the winding streets of the marketplace, stalls lined up like sentinels, though empty now in the quiet of night. The architecture is both foreign and familiar, illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. Everything feels untouched by time, and yet alive with history. You pass the grand library next, its shelves filled with tomes both ancient and new, merfolk stories and human books resting side by side. You can almost feel the weight of untold stories and hidden lore that fills the space, waiting to be discovered.

Namjoon’s excitement builds as he takes you to a fitness center unlike anything you’ve ever seen—massive bars with stones at either end, weights crafted from various-sized rocks, and machines clearly designed for strength and agility in the water. It’s a glimpse into the life of these beings, how they build themselves in this weightless world.

After a while, Soo-ah and Seokjin bid you farewell, their presence a quiet comfort as they swim off together, leaving you alone with Namjoon. Your pulse quickens. His hand, still clasped in yours, feels warm even in the cold depths of the sea. The way he glances at you—those fleeting, secretive looks that you’ve caught out of the corner of your eye—makes your heart race even more. Hae’s words echo in your mind, whispering truths you’re not sure you’re ready to admit. 

Could it be? you wonder, as the two of you drift toward his home.

“This is my place,” he says softly, his voice reverberating through the water as he turns on the light—an iridescent seashell hanging from the ceiling that casts a gentle, pearlescent glow throughout the space. His home is carved into the heart of a cave, the walls smooth and cool to the touch, like the sea itself has shaped them over countless years. Your eyes fall on his bed, draped in what looks like a soft, inviting duvet, but as you get closer, you realize it’s woven from delicate strands of kelp, swaying ever so slightly in the currents. It’s an unexpected beauty, intricate and organic, like everything in this underwater world.

The longest wall is dominated by a towering bookshelf, its shelves lined with books, arranged meticulously by color and size. It’s mesmerizing, this ocean of stories he’s collected, and you can’t help but wonder what worlds and lives he’s explored within these pages. You want to tell him, to say how beautiful it all is—his home, his soul, him. But your words are trapped beneath the weight of the sea, tangled with the breathlessness of being in his presence. 

Your fingertips brush the spines of the books, imagining all the narratives they contain, each one another layer of who Namjoon is. You glance down at your joined hands—his fingers laced with yours, and in that quiet moment, you swear you can feel something electric passing between you. A pulse of warmth, a silent exchange of emotions you can’t speak. You want to kiss him, more than anything. The way he’s gazing at you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken, the gentle curve of his lips hiding a blush you wish you could see more clearly.

But here, in this quiet cavern beneath the sea, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t ask him what you’re dying to know, can’t lean in and feel the warmth of his lips against yours, can’t tell him that you’re falling, deeply, helplessly. All you can do is float here, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid. 

He clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, then closes again. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, lingering in the air between you. He tries again, and this time his voice, soft and hesitant, finally breaks the silence. 

“Thank you for letting me show you my world.”

You squeeze his hand gently, pouring all the gratitude and affection you can’t voice into that single touch. You hope he feels it—the appreciation, the awe, the quiet longing you carry for him. And in that touch, you wish you could invite him into your world, share everything that you are with him, even though he’s been on land before. But you don’t know if he’d want that. You’ve never asked, never dared to imagine what it might be like to share your lives across these two worlds. You’re afraid to impose, afraid to hope too much.

The moment hangs fragile between you, but like all perfect moments, it begins to fade as reality presses in. You feel the pull of time, the reminder that you need to return to the surface. Namjoon feels it too. His eyes flicker with understanding as he leads you back out into the city, guiding you through the soft glow of bioluminescent lights, past the merpeople still moving gracefully through their midnight routines. 

The silence between you stretches as you swim toward the boat where Hae waits, but it’s not the kind of silence that weighs heavy. It’s filled with possibility, thick with everything you haven’t said. Your heart beats faster as you realize that, once you’re back above the water, you’ll have the chance to speak. To ask. The thought of it sends your pulse racing, a swirl of excitement and terror mixing in your chest. 

What if he doesn’t feel the same? The question spins through your mind, gnawing at the edges of your courage. But the way he looked at you, the way his hand feels in yours, gives you hope. And maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.

As you break the surface of the water, you push your goggles up to rest like a headband, feeling the cool night air kiss your damp skin. It’s crisp, almost electric, filling your lungs with a freshness that makes the world above feel more alive than ever. Namjoon surfaces beside you, offering you a soft smile, but your attention is caught by the subtle blush dusting his cheeks, a faint rose bloom in the moonlight. He seems hesitant, his uncertainty mirroring your own, as if you’re both standing on the edge of something vast and uncharted, too afraid to take that first leap.

For a heartbeat, he swims closer, his presence looming gently in your space. You hold your breath, your pulse quickening with the thought that he might—maybe—kiss you. Instinctively, you close your eyes, ready to surrender to that moment, but instead, his fingers brush your cheek, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with such tenderness it sends a wave of warmth through your body. His touch lingers, delicate and deliberate, and though it wasn’t the kiss you imagined, it makes you blush all the same. The heat rises to your cheeks, flooding you with a mixture of longing and disappointment.

But then something stirs within you—some reckless courage sparked by his closeness—and before you can think it through, you lean in. Your lips find his, a soft, quick kiss, almost like a whisper. It’s gentle, just a peck, but his lips are warm, softer than you ever imagined, like the sea breeze caressing your skin on a summer evening. 

When you pull away, you see the surprise flicker in his eyes for just a moment before his features soften into something tender and full of quiet affection. His ears burn red in the moonlight, and his dimples deepen as he gazes at you with a look that leaves you breathless. His brown eyes—dark and shimmering, like polished amber—glow with something more, something deeper. You think, just for a second, it’s desire, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the soft lapping of the waves. You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of him, and smile. “It was so beautiful.”

Namjoon doesn’t speak; he simply looks at you, his dragon-like eyes full of quiet intensity, his dimples softening the tension in the air. It’s a look that makes your heart skip, that holds a thousand unsaid words between you. And as you reluctantly pull away, swimming toward the boat, your mind is still spinning from the kiss, from the closeness, from everything left unspoken.

Hae pulls you up into the boat, and as you sit, catching your breath, you catch her sly grin. You know she saw everything—the kiss, the blush, the way Namjoon looked at you—but for now, she stays silent, letting the moment hang in the air. You wave to Namjoon, watching as he offers one last gentle smile before disappearing back into the deep, dark waters, the night swallowing him whole.

And even as the waves settle, your heart still swells, full of the hope and mystery that the night—and Namjoon—left behind.

The days pass in a blur of anxious thoughts, your heart heavy with doubt. Every dive into the ocean feels colder without a trace of Namjoon, and the silence is deafening. Each time you resurface alone, your mind spirals further into uncertainty. Did you overstep? The kiss lingers on your lips, but now you wonder if it was a mistake. It feels as if he’s vanished into the depths, leaving you adrift. Is he avoiding me? The question gnaws at you, twisting your insides. Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t feel the same, that he wants nothing more to do with you.

Hae, ever the caring friend, drags you to a fancy restaurant in an attempt to soothe your restless mind, insisting that you’re worrying yourself to death. You look like a dog that’s been kicked, she had said with a shake of her head, trying to make you laugh. But now, as you sit across from her, poking at the salad you barely have the appetite to eat, the weight of your uncertainty presses down even harder. Your stomach twists with every bite, the anxiety clinging to you like a shadow.

“Maybe he’s just busy, or caught up in merfolk stuff?" Hae suggests, her voice light, trying to pry you from the dark corners of your thoughts. But your mind won’t let you escape. Busy? No, your treacherous thoughts whisper, he’s avoiding you—he’s forgotten you, and the kiss meant nothing.

You say nothing, only stabbing your fork into the salad with a kind of quiet fury, each jab into the leaves an outlet for the storm brewing inside you.

“Uh, ___?” Hae’s voice breaks the tension, but you barely lift your head. She stumbles over her words, clearly uneasy, her tone cautious as she leans in closer. “There’s a man—blue hair—he’s looking at us.”

At her words, something stirs in you, curiosity overriding the anger for just a moment. Blue hair? Your heart skips a beat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn around, almost instinctively, as though drawn by an invisible thread. Your gaze collides with a pair of deep, brown eyes that hold all the mystery of the ocean. Namjoon.

His eyes glisten like the sea at dawn, reflecting both depth and tenderness, swirling with something unspoken—regret, maybe even desire. You swallow hard, feeling the magnetic pull that has always existed between you, but this time, it’s stronger. The air around you thickens as he walks toward the table, his presence unmistakable, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft, laced with an apology that doesn’t need to be spoken yet. The smile he offers is gentle, almost shy, and you can see the guilt in the way his eyes search yours. He knows. He knows he shouldn’t have disappeared without a word.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you manage to reply, the sound of his name on your lips stirring something deep inside you—something that’s a mixture of relief and frustration. You’re a little mad, of course you are. But as your heart races, you know you can’t stay angry with him, not when he’s standing there with that look in his eyes. He’s here now. And that’s enough for your heart to forgive him.

Your eyes travel down to his legs—strong, toned, perfectly human. He’s traded the water for the land, just for you, standing there in beige shorts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And yet, your mind spins with the impossibility of it all, as if he’s a dream made flesh, and part of you still can’t believe he’s really here.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, a tension that seems to ripple like the sea itself. Namjoon scratches the back of his head, his eyes shifting with uncertainty. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” he begins, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that, but something happened in Naraeum—”

Before he can finish, the weight of your own anxiety breaks through, forcing the words from your chest. “I thought you didn’t like me, or just forgot about me.” The admission tumbles out, raw and trembling, the very fear that has haunted you for days finally taking shape between you. As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel exposed, vulnerable. You brace yourself for his response.

For a moment, he just stares, his expression frozen in disbelief, like your words have knocked the wind out of him. Then, his face softens, eyes wide with something close to shock. “Baby, no,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, the nickname slipping from his lips so naturally that it sends a flutter of warmth through your chest. He steps closer, worry etched in every line of his face as his gaze falls on you, sitting there with your heart in your throat.

Baby?

“I’d never forget about you,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly as he bites his lower lip, as if trying to hold something back. The intimacy of that small gesture makes your breath catch.

Hae clears her throat opposite you, breaking the charged moment. She rises from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing both your gazes toward her flushed face. “Namjoon, please, take my seat and talk. I’ll go home and shower this tension off,” she says, her tone teasing but kind.

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it, realizing she’s right. The tension is palpable, thick as the ocean depths, and part of you is grateful for the space she’s offering. Even though nerves twist inside you like a storm, you know this is a conversation you need to have.

As Hae leaves, Namjoon sits down across from you, his eyes soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry I worried you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. His hands rest on the table, inching closer to yours, like he’s afraid to cross that final distance too soon.

There’s that word again—baby—and it stirs something deep inside you, butterflies rising in your chest, fluttering wildly, desperate to escape. It’s more than just a nickname; it’s a promise, a reassurance that melts the cold fear that has been gnawing at you for days.

“It’s okay,” you reply, your voice softer now, the storm inside you beginning to calm. “My mind just... got the better of me.” Your gaze flickers to where his fingers hover near yours, and your heart beats wildly at the nearness of him.

Namjoon is here, in front of you, and you realize with a quiet, overwhelming relief—he’s never really been gone.

“I could never not like you,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the truth is too delicate to be spoken aloud. “I think I... love you,” he finishes, the last words barely audible, yet they linger in the air between you like a fragile secret.

Did he just say love? Your heart stumbles, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. “You do?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief, your pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. Could it be real? Could he feel the same way?

A flicker of uncertainty dances across your mind, and you can’t help but press further, needing clarity. “Wait—do you think, or do you know?” Your question is gentle, but it carries the weight of hope, a hope that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Namjoon smiles at himself, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry,” he says, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. I know I love you.”

Time seems to slow, the world slipping into a dreamlike state where everything feels soft, suspended, as if wrapped in the warm glow of your shared confession. The air between you feels charged, but also tender, like the fragile moment before the first petal falls. You can feel it now—he’s there with you, and this love, this real thing, is finally mutual.

You reach out, taking his hands in yours, and lean in closer. “I love you too, Namjoon,” you whisper, the words feeling both daring and true.

For a moment, silence settles between you, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with the weight of what’s just been said. His hazel eyes, flecked with warmth and softness, hold yours, and you swear you could drown in them. Drown and never wish to come up for air.

The pull between you is magnetic, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, unfiltered and bold. “Do you... want to come see my place?” The second the words leave your mouth, heat rushes to your cheeks. The invitation is brazen, filled with unspoken implications, but you know it’s what you want—all of him, not just this moment, but something more, something deeper.

Namjoon’s breath catches, and he stands, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yes, baby,” he replies in a voice that is almost a whisper, but carries the weight of everything he feels. That one word—baby—sends shivers spiraling down your spine, and you bite your lip, holding back a smile.

Hand in hand, you walk together through the quiet night, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. You don’t need words now; the simple contact of his hand in yours is enough, grounding you as you lean into his strong frame. It feels so natural, as if you’ve always been walking beside him, as if this was always meant to happen.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door with a nervous flutter in your chest. As the door swings open, you flick on the light, and for a moment, you glance around, hoping he won’t find your space too cluttered or small. You’d cleaned just the day before, but still, anxiety lingers.

Namjoon steps inside, his eyes roaming the space, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he looks at you, his gaze heavy with something unspoken, something that makes your heart race. His hand tightens around yours, and you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit, like gravity drawing you closer.

You look up at him, studying the moles that dot his skin, noticing the way his features are softened by the low light. He’s so close, and in this moment, with his warm eyes on yours and his hand gently holding yours, you think—this is what it means to truly be seen, to truly be wanted. And God, does he look so handsome.

Then, without hesitation, he dives in, his lips crashing into yours with a desperate, urgent need. The moment you let out a soft moan against his mouth, he releases your hand, now free to explore you. Both of his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, yet with a fierceness that pulls you deeper into him. The kiss consumes you, leaving you feeling like water melting in his palms—soft, fluid, and utterly surrendered. His lips tease yours, grazing them in a way that demands more, and when he seeks entrance, you grant it willingly. Your tongues meet in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, moving like waves crashing together under a moonlit sea.

Another moan escapes you, and you feel heat pooling deep inside, a yearning that’s overwhelming. And it’s only a kiss—yet it has you unraveling like a ribbon coming loose.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks onto yours, desire simmering in the air between you, thick and electric. “Baby, I want you so bad,” he breathes, his lips curling into a soft pout that makes your heart melt. How does he look both fierce and endearing at once?

You can’t help but smile, your own need burning just as fiercely. “Me too... Please call me ‘baby’ more,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes as you cling to the warmth in his eyes. “I love it.”

He chuckles, the sound like a low rumble of thunder. “Oh, I’ve noticed,” he says, amused. “Every time I call you ‘baby,’ your eyes dilate.”

You didn’t know that, but you feel the truth of it—the way that simple word makes your heart race, how it draws you even closer to him, making you crave more.

“I want you...” You pause, feeling the boldness rise within you, “I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is breathless, your gaze holding his with an unspoken plea.

Namjoon grins, a softness creeping into his eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m going to make love to you,” he whispers, and the words are like honey dripping slow and thick. “Don’t you worry,” he adds, his lips capturing yours again with a hunger that makes your head spin.

Each kiss sends you spiraling further into him, your sanity slipping, but God, you love every second of it. It strikes you then how much of a romantic he is, how the passion in his touch mirrors the stories he loves in his books.

He pulls back, his breath hot against your lips. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks with a playful chuckle.

You point, and before you can say another word, his strong hands find your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him, straddling his hips as he carries you across the room. He opens the bedroom door with a sweep of his foot, not bothering with the light, and gently lowers you onto the bed. Laughter bubbles between you, soft and sweet, as his lips claim yours again in a kiss that is both feverish and tender.

Your fingers tangle in his blue hair, tugging at the strands, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. He grinds against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core, and you feel yourself unraveling again, melting beneath him. God, he feels big, you think, your body aching to know him, to feel him completely.

Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you tug the fabric upward, longing to see his bare chest again. You know what lies beneath—his broad, muscular frame, every inch of him beautifully sculpted, chest rising and falling with each breath. And you need to touch him, to feel his strength beneath your hands.

In this moment, nothing else matters—just him, you, and the gravity of everything that has led you here.

He pulls away, sensing exactly what you want, and in one fluid motion, grabs the hem of his shirt, peeling it off in a way that feels almost sinful. The sight of him should be illegal—holy hell, the way his muscles flex as he undresses is enough to take your breath away.

Your hands move instinctively, drawn to the expanse of his chest, a perfect blend of softness and strength. The skin beneath your fingers is warm, and the way he feels—solid, yet yielding—is intoxicating.

“Like what you see?” he teases, his voice low and full of that gentle confidence, and you can only gape at him, feeling the warmth of your admiration blossom into something deeper.

“God, Namjoon, you’ve always been beautiful... inside and out,” you murmur, your voice filled with reverence, because while his looks are striking, it’s his soul that captivates you.

His lips curve into a soft smile, his gaze tender as he leans down, brushing light kisses along the curve of your neck. The sensation sends waves of laughter bubbling out of you, light and breathless, as the tickle of his lips spreads joy and heat all at once. He keeps moving lower, trailing kisses down your body like a map only he knows how to navigate.

When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” he asks, his voice both eager and gentle.

“Yes,” you whisper, and as he unbuttons your pants, you arch your back to help him slide them off, heart racing. He pauses again, staring for a moment, captivated by the sight of you, the evidence of your desire already showing.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, his voice hushed and full of wonder. “All for me?”

You nod, breath hitching, your body already trembling with need. “Yes, Joon. You make me so damn wet,” you pant, writhing beneath him, desperate for more. “Please, just touch me.”

His gaze darkens with lust as he licks his lips, then dips his head lower, trailing kisses across your stomach, inching closer to where you need him most. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you giggle softly, unable to contain the lightness you feel even as desire coils tighter within you. His lips press against the hem of your lace panties, nothing extravagant, yet he looks at you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

With agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down with deliberate care. The cool air of your apartment contrasts sharply with the warmth between your thighs, and you gasp, aching for him. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but in the most delicious way—his gaze heavy with desire as he takes you in.

“Joonie…” you moan softly, voice trembling, as his eyes linger on your glistening pussy, admiring you. You wonder if he finds you beautiful like this, spread bare before him, and his awestruck expression tells you everything.

“Damn,” he whispers, voice thick with astonishment. “You’re so pretty… already dripping with need.”

Your breath catches as his words wash over you, and when he asks, “Can I taste you? Can I touch you?” you can barely manage a nod as you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you beg, feeling delirious with want, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation.

His touch is featherlight at first, a single finger brushing over your swollen clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You flinch, already overly sensitive, a gasp falling from your lips as your body responds immediately.

“More,” you plead, rolling your hips into his hand, urging him to press harder, to give you what you crave.

His fingers glide over you, warm and sure, stroking your slick skin with precision. Every movement sets off another spark, and a moan escapes you—high-pitched, breathy, and filled with need. His touch is both tender and demanding, and with every stroke, you feel yourself unraveling, caught in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers continue their rhythm, rolling over your sensitive clit with perfect precision, each movement making it throb with want. Your body reacts instinctively, hips rising to meet his touch, chasing more—chasing everything. You need all of him, and the craving is almost unbearable.

Namjoon watches you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his eyes filled with both desire and wonder as he works you with his fingers, and then, slowly, his lips find the tender skin of your inner thigh. His kisses are featherlight, but they leave a trail of fire in their wake, and you tremble under his touch. With each kiss, he moves closer, until finally, his mouth finds your pussy, his warm tongue lapping at your slick folds, tasting you with reverence.

He groans, the sound vibrating against your core, and your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you want him to drown in your pleasure. His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub, teasing, tasting, and the sensation makes your whole body tense in anticipation. His fingers slide to your entrance, probing gently before slipping inside, one at a time. The stretch feels divine, his fingers curling to reach deeper, and soon two, then three fill you, stretching you in the most perfect, delicious way.

Your toes curl, your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the wave of your climax building, rising with every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers. “Joon,” you gasp, a warning, but he only sucks harder, his lips and tongue working in tandem as his fingers thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside you that sends you spiraling.

The world tilts, and your back arches as the orgasm crashes through you, white-hot and electric. You thrash beneath him, pulling at his hair as pleasure floods your body, and all you can do is moan his name in a broken, breathless whisper. Even as your body shudders, he doesn’t stop, his mouth still on your clit, drawing out every last wave until you’re trembling with overstimulation. You tap his shoulder weakly, and finally, he pulls back, his face glistening with your slick, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hand brushing softly over your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His touch is light, reverent, and though you’re still floating in the bliss of your release, you feel the need to return the favor rise within you.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper, your voice thick with desire as you shift, pushing him down beside you. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words are swallowed by a low groan as you straddle his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock press against your wet core. You grind down on him, teasing him with the friction, and he lets out a ragged moan that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. “I don’t know how mermen make love, but as humans—I want you to feel good too.”

He chuckles softly, his hands resting on your hips, eyes dark with hunger. “It’s definitely not the same,” he admits, voice low and breathless, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You slide down his lap to the floor, your eyes locked on his, your intentions clear.

Your fingers find the waistband of his shorts, and he helps you pull them down, revealing his muscular thighs. When you see the thick outline of his cock straining against his boxers, your mouth waters, anticipation making your pulse quicken. Tugging down the last barrier, you free him, and his cock springs forward, thick and long, the head flushed red with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and your breath hitches at the sight of him, hunger twisting deep inside you.

You lick your lips, your hands moving with purpose—one resting on his thigh, the other wrapping around the thick base of his shaft, feeling the weight of him in your palm. Slowly, you begin to pump, your fingers sliding over the velvety skin as you build a steady rhythm.

Namjoon groans, the sound so deep it reverberates through your core, and you can feel him tense beneath your touch, his body reacting to every stroke. His groans are like music, deep and sinful, and they make you want to push him further, to hear more of those primal, desperate sounds spill from his lips.

Damn, you need more of him.

You glance up at him, mischief in your eyes as you give a playful wink before taking him into your mouth. The taste is salty, a mix of his precum and something else, something almost elemental, as if the sea still clings to him. It sends a shiver down your spine, urging you to lose yourself in the act. You move with intent, your lips and tongue working in unison, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him deeper, each stroke making his body tremble beneath you.

He gasps your name, his voice barely a whisper, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment. His hands find their way to your hair, gentle, not controlling—just resting there as if he’s entranced by the sight of you. He glances down, watching the way your mouth moves over him, and his breath quickens, as if the very air has become too thin.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained, “you’re so damn good at this.”

You smirk inwardly, already knowing, but the praise sends a thrill through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he fills your mouth, the way you feel him pulse against your tongue. It makes you wonder how your pussy will take him, how it’ll feel when he’s buried deep inside you, stretching you wide.

You’re making a mess of him—your saliva slicks his length, dripping down onto the sheets—but you don’t care. Not when he’s like this, writhing beneath you, his muscles taut with need. Your hand moves lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently in your palm, and you feel them tighten as he draws closer to the edge.

“Damn,” he rasps, voice rough with desire, “you look and feel so fucking amazing.”

The sound of his praise sends another wave of heat rushing through you, making you wetter, a needy ache building low in your belly. You take him deeper, determined, your throat tightening as you try to swallow him down. But your gag reflex protests, and you pull back slightly, not wanting to push too far. Instead, you focus on teasing the head, your tongue circling slowly before flicking across his sensitive frenulum. He groans sharply, his hips jerking, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you.

He’s unraveling, his control slipping, and you love it—love the power you hold over him in this moment, love seeing him lost in you.

Suddenly, his hands come to your cheeks, stilling your movements as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with both lust and affection, “you’re dangerous with that mouth. If you keep going, I’m going to come right down your throat… and I want to make love and come inside you.”

You release him with a soft pop, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you lick them slowly, savoring the taste of him. “You can always come down my throat later,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry. Rising to your feet, you peel off your shirt, followed by the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts spill free, and the heat in Namjoon’s gaze intensifies as his hands instinctively find your hips, his grip firm yet tender.

“Is every inch of you just perfect?” he breathes, awe in his voice. The compliment sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you chuckle softly, not answering because his words feel rhetorical, like they’re part of the worship that’s building between you.

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, pouring every bit of your desire into it. His cock twitches beneath you, hard and throbbing against your thighs, but you take your time, savoring the kiss—long, slow, and tender. You straddle him, hovering just above his cock, your body aching to sink down, to feel him inside you. But instead, you pause, letting yourself get lost in the depth of his gaze, his eyes like molten gold, swirling with emotion.

He kisses you again, his lips soft but insistent, and in that moment, you feel weightless. Like you’re floating, caught in a current, drifting between pleasure and affection. You feel cherished, like a treasure he’s unearthed from the depths of the ocean—glimmering, precious, and adored like the gems you’ve been collecting.

He groans, a deep, feral sound vibrating from his chest, and his hands tighten around your hips, the pressure promising bruises that’ll bloom as tender reminders of this moment. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby,” he pants, his eyes dark and hooded with lust, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of your face. His lips search for yours, hungry, desperate to close the space between you again.

“Likewise,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, your pulse racing. One of your hands trails down his body, fingers grazing his taut abdomen before wrapping around the thick length of him. You lift yourself slightly, feeling the heat of him against you. Just as you’re about to guide him inside, his deep voice cuts through the haze of desire.

“Should we use a condom?” he asks, his words momentarily shattering the tension, leaving the air thick but still.

You blink, slightly caught off guard, but quickly recover. “We don’t have to,” you murmur, sensing his hesitation. His brow furrows, so you add, “I have an IUD, and I’m clean. It’s… it’s been a long time for me.” Your words taper off, embarrassment creeping into your cheeks, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his gaze.

He studies you for a second, his expression softening before that same, dark hunger returns. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” he rumbles, his voice like molten velvet, sending shivers racing down your spine. The sound of him, the depth of his tone, makes your body respond instinctively—your pussy clenches with anticipation, aching for him to fill the emptiness inside you. “It’s been a long time for me, too. So, I’m sorry if I don’t last long…”

You shake your head, silencing his concern with a gaze that speaks louder than words. You need him, now. The heat between you both is unbearable, every second a sweet kind of torture. You guide the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing yourself by gliding him along your folds, feeling his hardness slick against your wetness, sending delicious tremors through your body.

Slowly, you position him at your opening and sink down.

The stretch is exquisite—a burn that ignites every nerve as he fills you inch by glorious inch. He’s thick, and the sensation of him sliding deeper feels like nothing you’ve ever known. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swear you hear him curse under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as he savors the feel of your walls closing around him.

“Fuck…,” he groans, his voice wrecked, vibrating through you like a shockwave. “So damn tight.”

“Yeah…” you pant, your head spinning, your body adjusting to his size. Inch by agonizing inch, until finally, he’s fully seated inside you. You pause, trembling, your insides fluttering as he twitches deep within. You let out a soft moan, your lips searching for his in a fevered kiss, one that feels more like a collision than anything tender.

When you pull away, your gaze locks with his, your voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so fucking good… like you’ve always belonged there.”

He hums in response, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he traces your body with his hands, unable to take in enough of you. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, the words low and reverent.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you lift yourself slowly, your body trembling with anticipation. Then, with a burst of need, you slam down, impaling yourself on his cock, a scream of pleasure ripping from your throat. Namjoon moans, the sound guttural and raw, as you ride him with renewed vigor, losing yourself in the rhythm.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, catching his attention, and without hesitation, his hands move to cup them. His lips trail down to one nipple, his mouth warm and eager as he takes it between his lips. You gasp at the sensation, a surge of heat flooding your core, and you feel a gush of wetness coat him as your body responds to his touch. You didn’t realize you’d come until the tremors hit, your pussy clenching tightly around him, your body quivering in waves of pleasure.

His tongue circles your nipple, flicking it gently before his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends you spiraling. Your breath stutters as he switches to your other breast, his hands roaming, kneading your skin, every touch heightening the electricity between you. Just as his mouth closes around your other nipple, his teeth accidentally bite down harder than intended, and a sharp cry escapes your lips—his name, ripped from your throat like a plea and a curse all at once.

He freezes, eyes wide, concern flashing across his face. But the look you give him—wild, consumed with lust—tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m so fucking sorry—,” he gasps, but his words barely register through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. Your gaze softens, your eyes half-lidded with desire, a gentle delirium swirling in their depths.

“No, no, it was good, Joonie,” you whisper, your voice a breathy melody. Your hand drifts to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair, tugging lightly. “I loved it.”

He pauses, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest, and you feel the twitch of his cock still buried inside you, a silent promise of more. His lips descend to your chest again, worshipping your skin with slow, languid kisses. His tongue finds your nipple, teasing it with a delicate flick before sucking, nipping just enough to make you moan his name, the sound a song on your lips.

Your body trembles, another orgasm crashing over you like a summer storm, your walls tightening around him in waves of bliss. He groans, a low, primal sound vibrating through your entire being. “Fuck, you—” His voice breaks with need as he rises from the bed, lifting you effortlessly, his body still entwined with yours. In one swift motion, he turns and lays you back down, pressing you into the sheets, his hips surging forward with raw intensity.

“This fucking pussy,” he growls, the words so feral, so laced with hunger that it sends a jolt of heat through you, your toes curling as your body responds to the deep, relentless thrusts. You moan, overwhelmed by the sensation of being pushed up the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets in desperation. Could you come again? Already, your body is teetering on the edge, caught in the rhythm of his passion.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so gorgeous, baby,” he rasps, each word dripping with lust as his hips drive into you again, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as though all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Are you gonna come again?” he asks, his voice rough with need. You bite your lip, uncertain if you can, but the fire in your core tells you otherwise. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit. Everything is so slick, so impossibly wet, but you manage to find that perfect rhythm, circling the sensitive nub as your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s like the tide pulling you under—a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you with blinding force. Your orgasm overtakes you, your body shaking beneath him as you cry out his name, each syllable a desperate plea, a prayer to the god of ecstasy. You thrash beneath him, lost in the throes of release, and still, he keeps thrusting, deep and deliberate, as your body flutters around him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as his cock twitches inside you, on the edge of release. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his warm seed filling you as his orgasm hits him hard, his body trembling with the force of it. His face—god, it’s beautiful in this moment—the way his lips part, how his brow furrows in pleasure, how he keeps moving, riding out the last waves of his climax until he begins to soften inside you.

Both of you are left panting, gasping for air like you’ve surfaced from the depths of the sea. He collapses beside you, pulling you close, your bodies still warm, still trembling. Your chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between you heavy with shared satisfaction.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp against your ear.

You chuckle, cheeks flushed and glowing. “Yes… we should definitely do that again.”

He turns on his side, his fingers brushing your arm tenderly as he gazes at you, eyes filled with warmth. “We really should.”

But then, out of nowhere, a ripple of anxiety courses through you, tightening your chest. You turn to him, your heart suddenly heavy. “Can we really make this work?” you ask, your voice small, vulnerable. “You, being a merman… and me, human?”

Namjoon’s expression softens, his gaze tender as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trace soothing circles along your back, grounding you in the moment. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make it work. We have to.”

In his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, the world feels possible again.

→ Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still sometimes use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work (the banners)). → Author’s note(2): Only four mermaid stories left now! 🥳I hope you’ll like the other ones as well, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜

[amuyyi]

she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew. 

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey. 

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked. 

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

 “You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place. 

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m  going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things. 

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run. 

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the  djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room. 

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know. 

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years. 

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before. 

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time. 

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this. 

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life. 

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved. 

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

[heterosexistly]

How to write 911 characters: Black women

since its black history month, here's how to write Athena, Hen, and Karen. I want to do this because I see really offensive things in fanfic when people write them and that usually goes unnoticed.

Athena:

✨ reference the source material (for everyone actually) ✨

Athena is a very kind and affectionate person with her friends, she's a great listener and always willing to help others out. She's stubborn when it comes to herself and taking breaks. She's a great mom and partner, though conflict has arisen when it comes to letting people in.

2. her relationship with Buck is not necessarily motherly. If you like to write her that way, it's your story but be careful you aren't falling into the mammy trope.

that would include, treating buck as though he's a child that needs protection from everyone, a cartoonish fondness and exaggerative movements, mainly as a character just to prop up Buck.

3. do not write her speaking voice different from the rest of the characters. I've seen things like: "A' course sugah!" Not only is that inaccurate, it's inappropriate.

4. Athena's relationship with being a cop, being in an interracial relationship, and being previously married to a gay black man are all very complex issues in the black community that require research before speaking on. I haven't seen people ever go in depth with this in fics but the show can only encapsulate so much about it without offending viewers so if you'd like to be more candid, please take the necessary steps.

Hen and Karen:

✨black queer love, especially wlw, isn't just to support your main ship please appreciate them ✨

hen is very driven, very caring, very intuitive. She's always been a listening ear for others, and finds comfort in her friends' advice. She's a great parent and a great partner.

Her relationship with Chimney can be silly, serious, protective, and everything you need in a best friend. They both look out for each other and aren't afraid to call out bs. Her relationship with Athena is also really great and balanced.

Hen can be a older sister to Buck, but it's a lot more light hearted. They also can be idiots together and Buck holds a lot of respect for her. Again, do not reduce her to this, that will be insensitive.

While we don't see Karen a lot, you see how much she cares about her family, how she does trust Hen but has been concerned about losing her loved ones. She's a brilliant woman and she often hangs out with Athena and has been friends with Chimney before she was with Hen.

again do not write any of their speaking voices differently. most of the time, Hen code switches and rarely uses any slang so stay away from that.

[sundrop-writes]

if George walked in on you changing...

Word Count: 990

Harry Potter Masterlist

Warnings: this is set during Deathly Hallows when everyone is preparing for Bill and Fleur's wedding; the reader and George are not in a relationship, but they are friends with a spark who have been flirty with each other for a long time; the reader is described as afab and is mentioned to be wearing a dress (changing into one); the general tone of this is steamy with no explicit smut; George stares at the reader while she is undressed but the reader likes it; mentions of George's injury (his ear being blasted off); mentions of sex; general flirtiness and sexual tension.

A/N: I saw a bunch of tiktoks using the prompt 'how the Harry Potter characters would react to accidentally walking in on you changing' and idk why that was such a thing on tiktok, but it made me think of this. Let me know if you want to see this trope done with other characters and I'll probably do it because it was really fun. Also I am trying out this new formatting style because this is such a short fic. Anyway, hope you guys like it!

...

“Oi! Is it time for-?” 

You heard the very distinct voice and felt a swish of air as the door was thrown open before you could shout at him to go away. 

Instinctively, you held the fabric of your dress against your body to cover yourself as much as possible. But it seemed that you didn’t have much luck. When you looked over your shoulder toward the doorway, you realised that you were almost entirely exposed - your back and your underwear completely on display, the makeshift cover only working to hide your breasts from prying eyes. 

You had been caught changing from one of your dress options into the other - absolutely indecisive as you were. Ginny had warned you that the lock on her bedroom door was ‘crap’ because everything in the house was so old and worn down. But you had been satisfied when it clicked, thinking that it was secure enough for you to strip down and get into your outfit for the wedding. 

But you were in so much of a rush that you didn’t notice the door drifting out of its frame due to the loose nature of the ‘lock’ - you were too busy thinking about everything you had to do that day, how you still had to put some finishing touches on the wedding cake and help Hermione with her hair. 

And now you were standing there - wearing nothing but your lacy, revealing underwear, barely covering your front with the fabric of your dress pressed against you while George stood in the doorway with his hand poised on the doorknob, staring you down entirely unabashed. He had not an ounce of shame as his eyes hungrily drank you in, and the longer he looked at you, the more attractive it made you feel. 

“Sorry.” George said quietly, not taking his eyes off you for a moment. 

Of course, he didn’t seem so sorry. 

“I thought Mum was in here. She - uh - she mentioned wanting to change my bandages before tonight.” He added on, gesturing toward the thick wad of cotton that was held to the side of his head with a headband made out of gauze. 

As much as Fred had joked about it - George was still definitely the better looking twin, even down one ear. 

Maybe it was because you had always thought that, a distinct attraction toward George always bubbling under the surface whenever you were around him. 

It was likely something about his quiet confidence. The fact that Fred was louder, always flirted with girls boldly even if he wasn’t necessarily interested in them. George was more reserved, and he could speak volumes with a single look and have you blushing with a few simple words. And from what you knew, he had only ever been that way with you. So feeling special in his eyes did add a lot to your attraction toward him. 

You loved the fact that he didn’t hide his attraction toward you or get shy when you flirted with him. Especially not in this moment, when his eyes raked over every detail of you, not trying in the slightest to hide his intentions as his lustful gaze looked you over. You became heated as you watched his eyes drink you in - from the side of your breast being accidentally squeezed by your arms while holding your dress against your body; to the gentle, natural curves of your side and the plushness of your stomach peeking out. 

His gaze definitely lingered around your ass. He almost couldn’t believe the fact that you were wearing black, lacy, see-through knickers - just like how he had imagined you in every single fantasy of his. (But this was so much better than a fantasy somehow. You were so much better.) 

“You could close the door anytime now.” You said, your voice light and cordial. 

You weren’t mad at him for staring. If anything, you were heavily resisting the urge to invite him in and push him down on the bed. (Which would have been intensely rude because it wasn’t even your bed, so that was one reason not to.) On top of the fact that anything you cooked up in your dirty mind would have massively derailed the packed, busy schedule for the day. You still had to help Hermione get ready and then go downstairs to help with some flower arrangements - unfortunately, fucking George Weasley’s brains out was not on that schedule. 

“Lacy knickers for a wedding?” He questioned, the usual laughter budding through his voice. “You aren’t… expecting anything, are you?” 

“My knickers are none of your business, George.” You told him with a chuckle. 

“Hmm. S’pose I’d like to make ‘em my business.” He replied, sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth in a way that made you want to bite it - if simply to spite his cockiness. 

“Get out,” You chuckled quietly, knowing that you needed to get ready, that you didn’t have time to indulge any of this. “Go on, go!” 

To emphasise the point, you balled up the fabric of your dress and sharply threw it at him. He let out a bright laugh when it hit him in the middle of the chest and then fell at his feet, leaving you completely exposed to him. Of course, George then began ogling your tits with no more grace than a common caveman. 

“George!” You squealed, laughter evident in your voice, making no effort to cover yourself. 

You liked the attention too much - why try to hide from it? 

“Right, going,” He said, finally closing the door behind him with a wink. 

A warmth curled over you, and it made you flustered and dizzy as you moved to change into the outfit you had officially decided upon. You knew that it had very little to do with the August weather and everything to do with your attraction to that Weasley that had been plaguing you for a long time now.

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part three

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: guys me and bestie got tickets to sabrina's tour and we are SO excited- we're making our outfits and we're putting in the WORK on rhinestoning those i'll keep yall updated

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

By the morning, you were in a much better mood. You woke up early, earlier than usual, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to finally go home. You spent the night crying over the fact that you would very likely be stuck like this, but all you had left this morning was acceptance. It would be nice to finally sleep in your own bed again.

You had cleaned up all the dead flowers, and packed all your notes into a folder by the time the sun made its way into the sky, and your parents arrived shortly after that to pick you up.

They tried to be nice, they really, truly did, but they were disappointed in you. You could see it and feel it in the tense silence that always surrounded the three of you during their "visits". It was awkward, and there was nothing you could do to fill the quiet room.

"Are you ready to go?" Your mother asks, helping gather your bags packed full of clothes and books that remained untouched. You nod, smiling hopefully at her. You follow her out to the hall and down the stairs.

"There's really nothing you can do? You can't operate again?" You hear your father's voice before you see him, and you really wish you hadn't.

"No, I'm sorry, sir. her vocal chords have been reconstructed to the best of our ability, operating again would do more harm than good. It would retraumatize the area and could result in more complications, it would be a miracle if that would even help her voice." The doctor replies. "Her voice may come back naturally, but only time will tell."

You hear your dad sigh as you round the corner, and he smiles at you sadly. "Let's get you home, okay?" He says, placing a hand on your shoulder and taking your bag from you, leading you out to the car.

You walk into your mother's library later that afternoon, a notebook in your hands. You knock gently on the door frame to notify her of your presence. "Yes, dear?" She asks, not looking up from her book. You huff, knocking on the door again and waving to grab her attention.

She looks up this time, realization flashing in her eyes. "Oh, gosh, sorry. I thought you were your father." Lies. "What do you need? You should be resting."

You hold up the notepad in your hands with the prewritten note. 'can you call coryo?'

She takes a moment to read it, brows furrowed. "Coriolanus? You just got home, give him a day off from babysitting you. He probably needs a break."

You frown, quickly flipping the page and writing again.

'he's not babysitting me. we're friends.'

"I understand he's your friend, but sometimes even the best of friends need a break from each other."

You roll your eyes. If you could groan you would. If you could call him yourself, you would.

'I'm 18, if I want to invite my friend over I will. I don't need permission anymore.'

Your mom chuckles, shaking her head as she reads the large print of your note. "Except now, you do. Don't you?"

The best you can do to express your frustration beyond how it shows on your face is to stomp your foot on the ground like a little kid before storming off down the hall. It was all you could do. You would try the same routine with your father.

It didn't work on him either, not that you were surprised. They didn't want company on the day you came home, but that didn't mean they actually wanted to spend time with you apparently.

You holed up in your bedroom, put on your music, and laid in bed staring at the ceiling.

It felt like hours before someone came to free you from your own mind, the silent prayers that you would be able to open your mouth and make a single sound. That didn't mean you had been brave enough to even try yet, though, until there was a knock on the door.

You tried your luck, attempting to call out a quick 'come in!', but nothing came from it besides a scraping pain in the back of your throat. You sigh, rubbing your neck gently in a poor attempt to make the pain go away as you crawl out of bed and go to the door, pulling it open with a scowl on your face.

It settles only slightly when you're met with a member of your family's staff standing there holding out a small, delicate vase containing three roses.

You stare at each other, neither of you able to speak a single word as you take the flowers from her hands. She was a young girl with dark hair, and she had been in your home for a year. You didn't know which District she had come from- it wasn't like she could have given you an answer if you asked. The removal of her tongue ensured that fact.

Occasionally you had wondered what each member of your staff had done to earn their fates, but you liked to theorize. Until now, that is, because the fate you were sentenced to is all but the same, and you had done nothing wrong.

Her eyes widen slightly for just a moment as she looks at the scarred skin across your neck, and then quickly back up to meet your eyes.

Her lips part as if to speak, and you tilt your head slightly at her until she quickly shuts her mouth again. You can see her struggle a bit to swallow as she just gives you a small nod, handing you the card that accompanied the flowers before turning to shuffle back down the hall.

After shutting the door and placing the flowers on your windowsill, you carefully unfold the small envelope and read its contents.

'Something to brighten up your room.

Welcome home.

-Coryo'

Graduation and the accompanying gala were within a week of your return home. You're eternally grateful you spent the time to pick out your dresses months in advance, because if you hadn't, you were sure you wouldn't have gone at all.

Standing behind the stage, your eyes continue to focus over and over again on Coryo in his spot in line. It was much preferred to look out at the audience or on the stage as your other classmates were handed their diplomas and posing for pictures for just a moment before exiting on the other side of the stage.

You had missed the rehearsals while you were in the hospital, so really you were just about to wing it- but still, you didn't want to watch anymore.

You dreaded the silence that would come along with your name being called. Well, silence would be preferable to the exaggerated cheers that were more likely to follow- everyone celebrating your mere act of survival after the school spent weeks scrambling to find someone else to sing the anthem at the beginning of the ceremony.

So looking to your best friend was all you could do to calm the blooming anxiety, cursing the alphabetical organization by last name that kept you apart for the moment.

Then it was your turn that came all too quickly.

You look at him again and he smiles at you, which you return with the fake one you were building for the sake of all the photos about to be taken of you as your heels click across the stage. The cheers that block out the sound while you keep your eyes ahead almost make you want to keel over and vomit right on the black flooring of the stage.

Is it possible for cheers to be full of pity? For an applause to be so... sad?

You'd been on the receiving end of countless rounds of applause before, but none had ever made you so embarrassed.

With flushed cheeks and a performative grin, you shake Dean Highbottom's hand.

"Congratulations." He says, and something behind his eyes for just a moment shows that he is not immune to the infectious pity spreading through the audience. He had never shown much emotion before, and if you weren't so close to him right now, you definitely wouldn't have picked it up at all. "We're happy you're here."

All you can do is nod, swallowing and attempting at a grateful smile as you take your diploma from him in the small red, leather folder.

Holding it up and turning to face the audience, you tilt your head with your signature smile for a beat to give your family (or any reporters interested in your recovery and story) time to take their photos before holding the folder to your chest and taking a small bow.

You allow yourself to pretend that you're okay for just that moment. That this was the end of one of your performances, and for just that one moment with your head down, you could block out the pity that came along with the standing ovation you were now receiving.

You were used to it.

But this isn't at all what you expected your final bow to be. And it hurt.

"Congratulations, Miss." Coryo's voice behind you in the crowd makes you smile, and you turn around to face him.

You roll your eyes with a fond smile on your face, doing the best you can to return the sentiment by poking him in the chest over his red gown a couple of times before pulling him into a hug.

He returns it and you feel his chest move as he laughs, gently rubbing your back before reluctantly pulling away. "Hey, where are your parents?" He asks, looking around the crowded front steps of the academy crowded with other students and their families waiting for rides to the gala.

You thought it was a poor choice in words, calling the graduation after party and dance a "gala" when in fact it wasn't one at all. Where you performed was a gala. Or, where you were supposed to be performing. In your mind it was anyway. Maybe you had it backwards.

You stare at Coryo, waiting for him to look back at you again before you're able to try and explain.

"They left." You mouth out, once his attention was back on you. "Work."

"They left?" Coryo asks, brow furrowing slightly as you nod in confirmation. "They're not coming for the dinner?"

You shake your head. "Busy."

"Well, you're stuck with me then." He smiles, nodding for you to follow after him.

When you walk up to his cousin, Tigris, the only person who was able to come for his sake, you realize you may just make up the saddest and loneliest table at the whole event. All your classmates had at least their parents, but most also had extended family members and friends as well. Crowded tables, loud chatting, lots to say and lots to celebrate. You had... less of that. Less talking, in particular.

And once again, you were right.

You tried to enjoy your dinner while many people went out of their way to come and pat you on the back and congratulate you on your graduation- and it just felt patronizing.

Coryo watched it all go down from the seat across from you at the table, staring at classmates and parents as they stopped to talk to you, knowing damn well you wouldn't respond. He hated every minute of it.

The frustration burned behind your eyes like a freshly struck match every time someone tapped your shoulder over the beautiful graduation dress you had asked for his opinion on months ago, the very same one that matched the rose pinned to the lapel of his jacket.

'Why couldn't they comment on that instead? Say you looked beautiful? Or say nothing at all?' He thought.

You couldn't even do a thing about it besides giving people awkward tight-lipped smiles and fake appreciative nods.

"Have you seen the state of her?" Livia says to her friends as you're walking by, and instinctively you drop your head. "I mean, it looks so bad, I'm surprised she would ever show her face in public again."

Coryo's arm that's linked with yours tightens its grip, and he has to be the one to look over.

"Wait, Coriolanus, you were there, were you not?" Persephone grabs his attention when she notices the two of you walking by.

The two of you freeze, sharing a look. Both roughly translating to "Are they fucking serious?"

He clears his throat. "Excuse me? Do you have absolutely no manners at all, I really do not think that-" His gaze flicks between you and the girls from your class as he speaks, preparing to scold them for being so incredulously rude.

Their eyes all go wide simultaneously. "No! Oh, goodness, we're not talking about you, Y/N!" Livia defends quickly and takes a small step closer, looking genuinely mortified by the confusion. "Clemensia. We're talking about Clemmie."

"Oh." Coryo says at the very same time your lips form the same word you couldn't speak.

Sure, they were talking about your classmate this time, but you were not foolish enough to guess they hadn't had a similar conversation about you when you weren't present. Unless they had more pity for your situation, which may very well be worse.

"We were wondering if you knew what happened, you were the last one with her before she got this... 'illness' that has apparently turned her half snake."

Your eyes go wide at Persephone's explanation, and you look frantically between them and Coryo. He had never told you anything about this, and he knew it was his job to keep you updated on all the petty and worthless gossip going on at your school while you were away.

You smack his arm a few times, eyes pleading for him to please explain what they were talking about, as the girls watched you with amused and slightly sympathetic smiles.

"Oh, well..." He hesitates noticeably, shaking his head dismissively. "I didn't... as far as I know she just fell ill."

He was lying and you knew it. You could feel his muscles tense around your arm.

"Oh, really? So, you and Clemmie go to the Citadel to speak with Dr. Gaul, and she is never seen again without scales and you just claim... nothing weird happened?" Livia asks, clearly not buying it either.

He gives a resigned sigh, looking around briefly. "I am not meant to discuss it." He explains quietly. "But... I honestly do not know. She brought us both into a room separately to discuss the contents of the proposal. I went first, and they instructed me to not wait for her. If something happened, I was not made a witness."

The girls seem a little disappointed with this answer, but only for a moment. It was believable enough to them.

"I mean, it's human experimentation- obviously." Livia says with a shrug, bringing her glass up to her lips. "I really don't put it past the doctor, she is deranged at the best of times."

"Ooh, yes, maybe she wanted to see if she could give a human a pit organ- maybe Clemmie can see heat now. Or smell with her tongue." Persephone giggles in a whisper, leaning in so only the three of you were privy to her joke.

You tilt your head, and immediately your mind is running a mile a minute. If Dr. Gaul could alter someone's DNA enough to turn them partially into an animal, she could easily reconstruct your vocal cords... Right?

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[ginevrapng]

Hiii<3 im sorry, can you write something about george? I dont know, something sweet? I feel like he is like that, and i miss him so much and i love your writing so i kinda wanted to ask for that, it is totally okay if you dont do it!! Just want to say i love your writings<3 they made me feel like im living your stories, its just soo good<3 oh and sorry for my english it's not my first language

hi<33 hopefully you like this! i decided to write a sweet best friend to lovers with george. i love him so much and i feel like this trope fits him really well. {contains slight angst but blink and you'll miss it

i'm really glad you like my writing, i love to hear that it! your english is really good by the way<3

george weasley is your best friend. you met at hogwarts in your second year and by your fifth year your feelings for your best friend were less than platonic. it's frustrating being in love with your best friend, you know it's wrong and he doesn't think of you that way but at the same time you don't really blame yourself george is amazing and it's no wonder you fell for him.

george loves you and it's so obvious to everyone, at least everyone that isn't you. george is sweet and kind but with you he takes it to another level yet you're so oblivious. he's your best friend of course he's going to be more touchy with you, right?

george always pulls you towards when you're walking down corridors together, he puts his arms around you and brings you to his side when you're sitting next to each other but in your eyes it's just george being comfortable around you. he even kisses you cheek and forehead and you brush it off. george is incredibly tender with you, holding your hand gently and complimenting you everyday. "you look very pretty today love" and "another o? you're so clever sweetheart." you think those affectionate nicknames are just between best friends though, you do call him georgie when the only other person who does so is fred.

he spends his spare time with you and makes time for you between pranking. george loves it when you help him with his pranks by giving him ideas, he knows you typically try to stay away from getting properly involved worried that you'll get into trouble but he loves when you praise him about how brilliant his pranks are and how creative he is. george always makes sure that fred doesn't prank you, the last time fred pranked you was in their third year and george was pissed off, not wanting to talk to him for days. it was a harmless prank but he didn't want you to be the target of their pranks.

george comforts you whenever you need it, sometimes you can get emotional and he'll be your support. if classes are getting you down he'll be there next to you, holding you in his arms after class while you lay on his bed while he tells you about how rubbish the teacher is and how stupid the subject is, "don't let it get you down sweetheart, so what if you got a d in astronomy? sinistra is just terrible, she's even worse than snape." you knew he didn't think that but it still brought you comfort.

if someone says something mean to you they'll suffer with some harsher prank. when he overheard zacharias smith talk bad about you he made him pay the next quidditch match the gryffindors had with hufflepuffs, george focuses more on aiming any bludgers towards smith than any other hufflepuff.

george knew you'd always be friends, no matter how many hints he gave, you'd only see him as your best friend. sometimes he thinks he has a shot when he swears he sees you look at him the way he looks at you but he dismisses it. he's happy to be your best friend and he hopes that however you end up will treat you well, just as long as you don't end up liking... "i can't help it, i know i should be trying to get over him but i love him so much." he hears your voice. "he's just perfect, he's so sweet and always looks after me. he's so good at quidditch and he's so popular... i know i don't have a chance. his red hair is so hot and i lay in bed at night thinking about his lips." george hears the laughter of your friends and his heart breaks.

you deserve to be happy, you do, but the one person he wishes you didn't fall for was his twin. george feels like everyone prefers fred, george has felt second best all his life and at the end of the day george is insecure and you're one of the only person who knows this. he goes to leave not wanting to hear anything else you have to say. "he's my best friend." george immediately stops, "i mean it's george bloody weasley. he's amazing and i'm just me." george grins and he's so glad he took his time walking away before you carried on speaking.

at dinner that night he comes up to you and whispers in your ear, "come to the room of the requirement later love." you nod your head and later on you're worried that you'll get caught out of your common room after hours but you trust george and you'll risk getting into trouble if it meant spending time with him. when you arrive to the room of requirements you're shocked by the display. george has set up a midnight feast with hot chocolate for you both to warm you up, a blazing fire, a big comfy sofa and big bed. basically a big room where you can relax for the night with george. "this is amazing georgie."

george's heart is beating incredibly fast as goes to stand next to you. "i'm so glad you think so." you see pink dusting his cheeks and wonder if the room is too warm for him. he gently picks up your hand and places it on his chest where you can feel his racing heartbeat. your eyes widen as you get worried but before you can ask him if he's okay he starts speaking. he cups your cheek in his his hand, "i love you," he presses a soft kiss on your lips causing you to gasp at his confession.

[marsprincess889]

Hi! I was wondering who do Saturnian nakshatras usually feel attracted to/end up with? Is there some sort of theory for this? 🤔 thanks ❤

Lol no theory but yes, based on obsevations, multiple examples in real life and art and nakshatra yoni pairings(and their positions on the wheel) saturn people are the best match for sun people.

Each saturn nakshatra is opposite a sun nakshatra and two of them are yoni consorts of sun nakshatras, with Uttara Bhadrapada and Uttara Phalguni being both opposite each other and yoni consorts (cow yonis). Krittika is the yoni match for Pushya (sheep/goat yonis), and Anuradha's yoni consort is Jyeshta(rabbit/deer yonis), while Uttara Ashadha (mongoose yoni) has no yoni consort.

All of the saturn and sun nakshatras, except Anuradha are warrior caste, so Anuradha is a bit different in nature, but tbh that does not make much of a difference.

The usual dynamic between them is often very fun to watch cause both of those planets are tough, stubborn and independent but in completely different ways. I have a post on Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Bhadrapada and how it usually plays out, with examples. Some of it is specific to cow yonis but mostly you can apply them to all and any saturn-sun nakshatra pair. With Anuradha, it's interesting that its yoni match Jyeshta is considered very solar and masculine in nature despite being a Mercury-ruled nakshatra, so it is different in Anuradha's case, but not really.

Sun is the natural self-expression of a person and represents the soul, the rational, the cerebral, the individual and the stable, masculine part. Saturn is the rules and the limitations that have to be accepted and followed perfectly that are necessary for life in the material(physical) world. The Sun is exalted in Ashwini, and debilitated in its opposite(and enemy) nakshatra Swati, where Saturn is exalted. Saturn is debilotated in another nakshatra opposite Swati_ Bharani, which comes right after Ashwini. Also, Suna nd Saturn are natural enemies. If you think of them that way, it might appear that all that tension will translate to enmity, and it does happen sometimes, but in the case of nakshatra rulerships, oftentimes Sun and Saturn people get along exeptionally well and have a unique dynamic that makes them a powerful team. One's strengths are the other's weaknesses, they balance each other out and they have a common ground where they both appreciate and respect each other and their boundaries(mostly after some time 😅). There will, almost certainly, always be tension between them but it usually grts channelled productively, and through love. If the Sun is indepedence, and Saturn is restriction and dependence, one cannot exist without the other. We define our individuality through restrictions and rules and we restrict and define(ourselves and others) based on who we are, so it's really a very iconic dynamic you asked about. 😄

Some tropes that their dynamic reminds me of:

Battle couple

Enemies to lovers

Partners in crime to lovers

Rivals to lovers

Thanks for asking! I love their dynamic. In hetero couples its kinda different(EDIT: I meant, it's different based on which planet type is which gender), but the overall vibe and the dynamic stays the same. They(sun and saturn individuals) really seem like opposite people until they actually interact and then they act like two almost identical bickering children while enjoying it 😭 they are very loyal, forgot to mention, probably the most loyal along with venus people, and very defensive. They might get offended if anyone tries to get involved in their "bickering"(flirting), it's just between them. I can confirm all of the above causse I'm a Sun girl(a venus girl, but with uttara phalguni ascendant) 😁

Anyways, glad you asked. If you have similar questions about other nakshatras it always helps to pay attention to little details about them, like, yoni animals, which planets are friends, neutral or enemies, nakshatra caste, planet exaltations and detriments, nakshatra nature, nakshatra placements at the zodiac wheel... and a lot of this comes from observing real life and art through the years, as well as from personal experience. I think you have to filer any information through your own lens and see for yourself, maybe you'll discover something new that others did not catch. I'm basically encouraging you to observe without pressure and have fun, and to fact check what others say for yourself. 🙂

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -CHAPTER 1-

Masterlist

Approximately 2,395 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Brief mention of self harm

A/n: This is a really self indulgent fanfic, it may have some common tropes and it will get very mature so MINORS DNI. I am making this a large slow burner because I am seriously falling in love with the setting and where the story is going. It may not be 10 chapters, it will likely be more. As with my other fics, I will finish this to completion and there will be varying amounts of illustrations for each chapter. I want to push the fact that this entire universe is headcanon. Having said all this, please enjoy. Fell free to leave a like, reblog, or comment if you're comfortable. Thank you for reading, I am so happy to be able to share my work with so many people who appreciate it.

Chapter 1

“Ma’am?”

You’re awoken from a pleasant nap by the voice of the taxi driver who picked you up from the airport.

“I hate to wake ya, but this here’s the end o’ the line fer me”

Slowly you sit up, the bright light of the sun shines into the backseat as the air conditioning gently breezes past your neck. You look out the window and are met with large swathes of yellow grass, dried up from being beaten by the sun’s intensive rays; The yellow of the grass is only contrasted by the bright azure blue of the sky, riddled with bright white fluffy clouds slowly lumbering across the horizon.

“S’good thing ya have such a small amount’a luggage huh?”

The cab driver popped the trunk and got out of the car to help grab your luggage, a small satchel of essentials and a suitcase of the last remains of the clothes you had left in Manitoba. You get out of the backseat and are immediately blasted with a wave of heat that weighs the air down.

“If you walk one mile up past this here gate, you’ll find the road getting’ ya t’yer home. I reckon no one’s been out here fer years. Ahm still not sure hwhat y’gone get up to”

You grab your belongings and thank the driver; he warns you to not take your time walking due to the intensity of the weather, then he gets in the cab and slowly drives off. You start walking past the open gate and toward the home that was left to you by a family member you barely knew. When you received the call from the lawyer dealing with the will, it was like a miracle, your business was tanking and you didn’t have much left financially. Being a seamstress in the town of Rivers was not easy, there was not enough work for you and the citizens didn’t have much to give for payment. Living there was lonely, your only friend passed away in high school because the stress of bullying got too much for her; since that incident, a deep hatred for humans remained in your heart.

You thought you had no more family left until the lawyer told you about your distant relative on mom’s side who had put you as the sole receiver to a fortune and the property. The only condition for getting access to the money was to come live on the property and care for the orchard attached to it. The lawyer informed you that your relative’s orchard had supplied the town and her written wish was for you to carry on its legacy. After living in a small town for all 33 years of your life you were excited to start fresh somewhere new, what better place to do that than Fuller, Texas which is virtually a ghost town.

The dirt road kicked up dust from your steps as you made your way to the first intersection, you took the turn and headed up the hill, the old driveway was overgrown with grass; You were grateful for the trees along the path, giving you shade from the sun, each one rustling in the gentle breeze occasionally dropping a leaf that would silently fall to the ground. Once you reached the top of the hill, you saw the house that was in the pictures the lawyer sent over, it was a small one storey house shining white in the sun. There were no trees around the front of the house but small bushes with wildflowers bloomed around it, your car was parked casually in front of the home next to a large moving crate full of the stuff you packed before you flew down. Having all your belongings and car shipped down early was a smart choice.

You made your way to the home, looking for the set of keys in your bag, the door opened with a creak and a distinct smell of old wood mixed with the ghosts of thousands of meals cooked wafted around you. The inside was quaint, all the electronics were dated but the décor was simple and rustic, this home felt cozy and welcoming as the sun pushed through the curtains leaving a gentle glow on the hardwood floor of the living room. You set your things down at the entrance and went to open every window to allow the stagnated air to circulate and cool the house before nighttime. You peered into the backyard, it was small but charming, there was a large tree that provided shade to the fenced area, and a white swing bench that had a bistro table set next to it. You walked out into the yard which was fenced by a weathered white picket fence, it overlooked the entire property. You walked up to the edge of the fence and noticed some binoculars set against one of the posts, you take them and use them to look around the land.

 You see a small home at the edge of the orchard -that must be the farmhand’s home, I should go let them know I am here and introduce myself-. You look further and see a large house in the distance, it has tall pillars in front and looks deteriorated; you slowly move the binoculars around to see the rest of that home, you find a barn and spot something large moving, you spin the binocular setting to zoom in further but struggle with the focus. After a short bit of fiddling, you manage to get a clear image and see that the moving shape was a man, a huge one, the man towers over the cow he is tending to, you squint your eyes to see if you can make out any details but all you can see is his long hair and that he has a face covering of some sort. You lower the binoculars and put your hands on your hips -who was that man? Is he really that tall? Maybe I should introduce myself to the neighbors as well-.

You spend an hour unpacking clothes and necessities from the moving crate, just enough to get you settled in, the furniture in the home still has some belongings from the passed relative that you need to clean out. After looking through the fridge and cupboards, you realize you don’t have anything to eat, and there’s no way you can get a delivery all the way out here, so you decide to take your car into town to see what’s available. The drive takes you along country road 26, you see nothing for a while and are almost startled when a small building shows up in the distance. You pull up and notice it’s a gas station and grocery store - I hope they have something I can eat in here-, you park in front of the entrance and go inside.

Everything in the store looks dusty and old, you feel a sense of unease at the prospect of going hungry tonight. You head to the register and see an older woman sitting on a stool reading a newspaper, she has white hair pinned up into a bun and thick reading glasses that look old enough to be from the 70s.

“Hi there” you say quietly

“Oh, I didn’t know someone had come in. Hi hun, how can I help you?” she places the newspaper down and stands up to greet you.

“I just moved into town and I realized I have no food for tonight, is there anything in here that can tide me over?”

“Welcome to Fuller! Let’s get you something to eat dear.” She looked surprised that you would even have to ask but she was happy to lead you over to some packaged goods and canned veggies.

“These here came in a few days ago with our latest shipment, don’t let the dust in here bother you none, I just haven’t had the energy to clean the place up better”

You smile and start grabbing some boxed oatmeal and canned vegetables, with these you would be able to eat for a day or two until you could to do a big shopping trip in the next town over.

You stop grabbing items and look over at her to say

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself, my name is Y/N. I moved into the property with the orchard”

You are interested now, and ask “You knew her? She was a distant relative to me and I actually inherited what she had, I feel bad about it because I didn’t know her at all, but I intend to keep the orchard going since that was her dying wish”

The woman’s eyes light up and she smiles, replying “Well now there’s a welcome surprise! My name is

Luda Mae, I’m your neighbor down the bottom of the hill, we did a lot of business with the previous owner, Tilly. She was a close friend of mine”

Luda Mae kept her smile but looked away as if she was starting to tear up, she spoke in a quieter tone “She was a real good friend, she felt like a sister to me. Did you know that without her starting that orchard, my folks would have” she stopped herself and paused looking around “Well let’s just say, she saved us”

Your interest in getting to know who Tilly was had spiked, the lawyer said she was well known to locals but never expanded on that. Luda Mae continues,

“Join me and my friend for tea tomorrow, I’d love to tell you all about Tilly, and that way you can meet my family as well, it’s always nice to have a friendly neighbor. I won’t take no for an answer”

You feel a bit of anxiety creep in, meeting new people was already difficult for you and what’s worse this was in a completely new place, so far out of your comfort zone. Luda Mae takes some of the items you grabbed and brings them to the counter and bags them. You follow her and place the rest of your things on the counter and say,

“What time did you want me to stop by?”

Luda Mae hands you the food and says “Just come on by ‘round noon, I’ve lots to talk about with you, there’ll be plenty of food too so that way these groceries will last a bit longer” She gives you a wink.

“That sounds really nice actually, what do I owe you for the groceries?”

“It’s on the house hun, let that be a welcome gift” she smiles and follows with “By the way dear, be careful around that farmhand, he’s a cruel old thing. Did you move with anyone? Maybe a husband or boyfriend?”

You feel a sense of worry at the thought of being alone on a property with someone mean, let alone a man who is cruel. You reply,

“No, I don’t have anyone, it’s just me”

Luda Mae suppresses a smirk, she follows you to the exit and opens the door for you saying “We’ll keep an eye out for you then, you’ll be alright dear, he’ll get what he’s owed one day”

Those last words really sparked fear in you, was the farmhand dangerous or just mean? It might be a good idea to introduce yourself in order to find out and possibly make a connection so you don’t seem rude. You put the groceries in the trunk and get in the car, Luda Mae waves to you as you pull out and head towards home.

Once you are home and the groceries were put away, you decide to go down to the orchard to see what kind of fruit are being grown. The trees are large and densely packed with fruits of all sorts, oranges, lemons, peaches, apples, and cherries. You are suddenly startled by a large, ugly man, he reeked of body odor and wore dirty overalls.

“Who the hell’re you?” he asks rudely.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. I’m Y/N I am the new owner of this property after Tilly passed”

The man looks angry, he rolls his eyes and pushes past you saying,

“Ah thought she din’t have no family” You scrunch your nose in confusion, he continues “You best keep outta muh way”

You follow after him saying “I just wanted to introduce myself so you know who I am”

He continues walking off “Don’t care” and disappears behind another row of trees.

You feel upset, you were already weary of people because of their bad behavior, and now you have a rude, smelly man controlling the orchard that you are unsure how to get rid of. You decide to pick some fruits to bring to Luda Mae tomorrow and head back up to the house. You put the fruits you picked in a basket you found and walk back out to the yard to relax on the swing bench. -I’m going to have to get used to that asshole until I can learn how to manage this farm myself. At least I don’t have to work anymore, so I will have plenty of time to learn-.

You get up and head over to where the binoculars sat, and used them to look over at Luda Mae’s property again to see if there is a designated front door. -Why did she ask if I had brought anyone? was she asking if I was single?- The thought lingered in your mind until you saw that enormous man again, this time he was holding a chicken and watching a small group of them peck at the ground. The chicken looked so tiny in his hands, and he held it so gently, giving it soft strokes along the back of its head. You stood still watching this strange man pet a hen for what felt like an hour, his face being covered was intriguing and his wide frame was a real sight to behold even if it was from afar.

You notice the sun beginning to set and decide it’s time to get inside and get some rest, the thought of possibly seeing that strange man up close danced in your mind and excited you for tomorrow’s visit. -I hope I get to meet him-.

Next chapter-

[quinloki]

quin-uhhh:

would you?!

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with favorite five fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨

If you don't, I'll just... I'll just... well I won't do a thing but please?!

many fist pumps,

▲ I'm a symbol now

\o/ Tri, my sweet friend, you are - if anything - a symbol of good cheer =D ♥

Let's see, five favorite fics I've written. That's much easier than trying to pick just one ^_^

Birds of a Feather Marco/Reader ( tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - This is my most recently completed fic, at least at the time of this post, but I love it so much. My passion for Marco feels like it came out of nowhere and has made itself reigning champion in my thoughts. But a story I expected to be relatively short, ended up almost twice as long as I expected, and it was so easy. It was fun to write, and I think it goes down smooth, despite being nearly 90k words people consistently devour it in a single sitting.

Quicksand Sir Crocodile/Reader ( tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - Not sure if you're a fan of the sandy crocodile-themed warlord? Tread carefully, reading this title is statistically likely to convert you. Quicksand has an alternative ending because the story was originally intended to be a very dark Yandere - to the point that Doflamingo would've been the "good" guy. That's not how things went, and I'm quite glad for it. Quicksand going its own direction is what helped seal the deal in creating the Tales of the Grandline Metropolis, which is currently 3.8 completed stories. (it'll be at least 8 before it's done).

A Light Touch Eustass Kid/Reader ( Ao3 / Wattpad ) - My first Eustass Kid/Reader story. Set in the same AU as Quicksand, it was started from a pun, of all things. I figured Kid would be fancy tech stuff like neural-linked prosthetics, and the idea that would make a prosthetic for the reader after they lost a hand was something I wanted to write. Creating something like that would take a light touch, and if it glowed, that would be a different kind of light touch and getting close to Kid requires a light-- you get the point. Like I said, it's all based off a pun, but I'm really proud of the story, it's one of my favorite re-reads.

Some Direction Zoro/Reader (tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - A Modern AU where the government mandates who you marry. I have to give thanks to @lyndsyh24 for not only inspiring me to write this one (start to finish in a single month, I was obsessed!) but also for allowing my to play in the AU she'd built up. From Matchbook to the laws themselves, it's all thanks to Lyn. Zoro started out as one of my favorite characters in the series - I still have love for him, and I'm always happy to write him, but he's taken a bit of a back seat to my top three. Still Some Direction is a story I'm really proud of - even if I worry there'll be a mob after me for who the antagonist is 😅

Family Ties Doflamingo/Reader ( Ao3 / Wattpad ) - I was torn on this last choice - even with five slots it's hard to decide between stories I suppose ^^; Also, oops, apparently I only put the first ten chapters on tumblr... I need to fix that >.> Ahem, anyway, Family Ties is the first fic I wrote after over ten years of not writing at all. It's my first reader insert, my first true multi-chapter too. When I wrote it, it was the longest fic I'd written by nearly 50k words. I wrote it because I wanted a more morally ambiguous reader compared to what I'd been reading. It's not a dark fic though, it's pretty tooth-achingly sweet, honestly, but it's currently the only fic I have where the reader is a murderer in a very undisputed and direct manner.

Honorable mention I almost posted as piece 5 - The Dragon's Clause - my Sabo/Reader Noble/Fantasy/Magic AU, and also the only title I mention that's incomplete. But it's a an ode to my favorite genre, and a great many of my favorite tropes.

[pseudonymphomania]

"Shout Your Heart Out", the narrative compulsion of unrequited yearning, and the things that stick with me

How to do DiaLuci correctly: in the NB "Creating Records" WW, Diavolo takes many pictures of Lucifer as keepsakes, to Lucifer's resignation, until Lucifer takes the phone from him. Diavolo is a very extra person. He does things to their furthest extent and is a very goofy character despite his propensity for sound judgement in other matters. Lucifer taking the phone from him reestablishes Lucifer's agency. After a heart-to-heart, the skit culminates in Lucifer taking a selfie with Diavolo of his own volition, not because he is forced to, but because he cares for Diavolo as a friend. Lucifer gives Diavolo his phone back and taps him on the chest over his heart. The scene is a balanced reflection of the care these two have for each other in their different ways. The denouement [the final part of a narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved] is delicious, heartwarming, interpretable, logically sound.

How to do DiaLuci incorrectly: in "Shout Your Heart Out", Diavolo practices for weeks yelling about all the things he likes about Lucifer. His words leave little to be interpreted. He gets MC involved for no narratively compelling reason and despite having that quality time together, there is nothing much that sells even a friendship with MC aside from circumstantial presence. When it comes time for the event, Diavolo tells the world how much Lucifer means to him and how attractive he is (this is a romantic trope). Then the brothers stand there awkwardly commenting on this, including the object of the prince's affections, Lucifer, who says, paraphrased, "I don't care". Then, finally, after Diavolo confesses his love for Lucifer, he pulls MC on the stage and confesses to them and kisses them. (Denouement: ???)

I already made comments on someone else's post about my feelings regarding the card and despite an entire day passing and a real life to live and bills to pay, I couldn't get this out of my head.

I think I know why.

As much as I play this game to get the DiaLuci crumbs, this card left me feeling really hollow and sad. Canonically, Diavolo and Lucifer are best friends. This is exemplified by their first meeting (OG "Glory Days" Lucifer UR), their continued meetings as representatives from their respective realms (NB: Seven Apples" Diavolo UR), Diavolo's support to aid fallen Lucifer who asked him for help (Story Canon both games), their mutual regard as Devildom leaders (Role of Prince and Whip respectively in respective chapters), their affection for each other in general (little things like Lucifer offering to take half of the consequences in the past Christmas event because he couldnt let Diavolo take it on himself). This is explicit and textual. In this card, having Lucifer not give even a little bit of a shit is anti-character development.

The implicit is where the fans live; an interpretation of a written text is subject to the whims and tastes and biases of the perceiver. It is my pleasure to interpret them as a romantic relationship, a beautiful friendship, among everything they are and could be for each other. But.

But... to explicitly, in no uncertain terms, have Diavolo stop just shy of saying I Love You to Lucifer ("Shout Your Heart Out") and have the reaction to that be status quo indifference, then have Diavolo get washed by the narrative to remember the MC exists is some astronomically bad storytelling. Lucifer is a major poster-boy. Metaphysically, it's not possible to have him reciprocate because its an otome and he's a big money-maker (This is where the fans ignore the meta of the game and run with the interpretation of the text because it doesnt matter if something is canon or not in the grand scheme of things; DiaMC fans exist, LuciMC fans exist, Dialuci-polycule-sandwich fans exist, DiaLuci fans exist, ANTI-all-of-the-above exists).

Now, this card makes it explicitly textual that Diavolo is in a constant state of yearning (sad). This card makes MC the rebound (in a dating sim??). This card doesnt even have Lucifer react to the DiaMC kiss when Lucifer is supposed to be into MC. He's just there (Asmo got more screen time!). This is tragic for everyone involved. In a game about "romance", this card is an absolute travesty, and because of that I spent all day thinking about it like it was something of consequence in my busy life.

By comparing the two scenarios above, there is a very strong lesson here about the strength of a beautifully crafted narrative, so I am amiss as to why this card exists if not to commit to the ideas as written. (This is rhetorical; I know why)

Note: this is not an either-or situation. The DiaLuci and DiaMC plots CAN be done at the same time in one card, but it takes skill and a commitment to the kind of storytelling that is very hard to do with corporate and stakeholder meddling, deadlines, interprofessional and jurisdictional impudence, misunderstandings of market demographics and consumer behaviors, funneled into what is essentially a 4-koma Devilgram.

Am I still a hardcore DiaLuci shipper? Yes. Obviously. My personal denouement [headcanon] is that the love is requited. But poison can still smell delicious to a mouse before it kills it. *sighhhhh... saves the screenshot of Diavolo admiring Lucifer's attractiveness reluctantly* I just care about the value of a good story a little bit more because both DiaLuci and DiaMC were done so dirty here. 😭

Conclusion: the real winners are the cherry pickers who are able to make do with what little exists for them. The portentous winds say that I will become one.

Thank you for reading this and I hope you all have a wonderful day! 🥰

Edit: My opinion has been slightly changed because of a comment on my Reddit post by user Clarasiir. I appreciate that and I'm happy to have experienced a real life Hegelian Dialectic.

Edit 2: A kind reprise. The aftermath of the Devilgram.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #28 – The Dead Take The A Train by Cassandra Khaw and Richard Kadrey

Oh I wanted to love this book so very much. On paper it’s basically made for me – incredibly messy fuckup of a heroine, cosmic horror through the idiom of wall street corporate sharks, grimy and gory urban fantasy full of knifing people in back alleys, the works! For the first fifty pages or so, I thought I was in love – which just made the disappointment as the wheels came off all the more bitter.

The book follows Julie, ‘barbed wire magician’ (it’s at least as unpleasant as it sounds), professional monster hunter, and all-around personal disaster. Her life takes a turn for the even messier when a) her best friend/comically oversized unresolved crush shows up at her door begging for help running from her abusive husband and b) unrelatededly but more or less simultaneously, her ex-partner-and-also-boyfriend, looking up to clean up embarrassing loose ends on his rise up the elldritch corporate ladder, baits her into trying to summon a guardian angel from a sabotaged tome and ends up releasing a metaphysical parasite that starts murdering its way through the city’s occult underground. From there things just get messier.

Drilling down as much as I can, my issues with this can be summed up as it feels like a first draft. There’s stuff there on the page – character arcs, relationships, bits of scenery and action setpieces, even themes! - but it’s all just..there. Exaggerated line sketches no one ever went back and turned into full illustrations. It’s most painful with the characters – every one of them is a caricature, precisely and exactly what they first appear to be with the same beats hit again and again every single time they appear on screen. Which more or less for the quirky supporting cast but like – we get multiple chapters from the perspective of the aforementioned abusive husband, and something like a fifth of the book is from the POV of the sleazy corporate striver ex. At no point does either one get the slightest bit of nuance or pathos – Tyler’s chapters in particular end up reading like bad SCP field reports, with so much self-destructive instituional backstabbing and betrayal it all ends up being slapstick.

Sarah the love interest gets a special anti-shout-out here. Like, I know I’m just picky about and have a low tolerance for romances, but I swear – the single most important dynamic in the book in terms of both wordcount and narrative signposting is her and Julie’s romance, and it is just So. Bad. Every single scene she’s in is dedicated to rubbing your face in how fragile and traumatized and selfless and adorable and good-hearted and damaged she is, and the entirety of the romance is essentially one of those jokes about how lesbians will spend six years living with each other awkwardly waiting for the other to ask them out but stretched across 400 pages. I spent half the book patiently waiting for any hint of hidden depths or surprising twists to her character, but nope! Just a perfect domestic angel.

The setting actually has something of a similar issue. It feels like an exaggerated pastiche of urban fantasy, assuming the reader is already familiar with all the tropes and conceits and making only the most perfunctory possible gestures towards exploring or justifying them. This can absolutely work, but if you’re doing it you kind of need to use the genre as the background or setup for something else that the book is actually about – deconstruction or satire or character study or Wacky Hijinks or something. When what’s gruesome action and drama is supposed to be the star attraction, the grounding and verisimilitude of the world is actually pretty key.

A really tight, tense plot could have absolutely redeemed the whole but, well, nope. The literal entire plot hinges on Tyler, in the course of one conversation several drinks in at a crowded bar, baiting Julie into looking for a particular type of tome from a particular store so she’ll try the ritual he had swapped out with one to curse her – but then also that he didn’t know what the ritual he swapped in actually did. The big evil wall street law firm has a corporate culture that should have collapsed about 48 hours after it was founded, and absolutely nothing about it makes sense for a place with lasting institutional power. Everyone’s morality and perceptiveness changes as the plot requires. The pacing feels like they had to pull a happy ending out of their asses at the 2/3 mark and shove the rest of the book into a sequel. It’s just, it’s bad!

Also the prose starts at fun and evocative and keeps pushing into Lovecraftian levels of adjective-addiction, and neither the A-Train nor the dead are actually at all important to the story.

Just, argh. This could have been good! The first 40 pages were a really fun schlocky monster-of-the-week story! The first ritual summoning the Proctor was basically perfect! I wanted to love this!

[merakiui]

I *love* the childhood friends trope. What I love even morrree is the step-siblings trope where from the very beginning, you too were wayyy closer than you should have been and nobody realised until it was too late 😭 I loovvee the way you wrote it for Azul, I think it could work really well for rook and epel, like imagine getting into all sorts of mischief with your step-bro and practising your kissing together, but now you're wayyy too old for that and he misses it so much :(( good siblings help eachother, so help him experiment with kissing again, won't you? Why not take it a little further? Youre adults now, so why not practise some more grown up activities heheh. Oh oh oh oh and floyyydddd. Step bro Floyd is a whoooollllee situation on his own.

Omg yes!!! It works really well for Azul because he hardly had any friends when he was little, so he clings to you with all of his eight tentacles. <3 no one thinks anything of it and Mama Ashengrotto is just happy her son is getting along with his step-sibling. But then, years later, everyone who was once :D upon seeing your bond with Azul is now D: after they see you next and you’re so gravid with his clutch. orz

And step-brother Rook oooo!!!! The two of you used to chase each other through the mirror portals into the many spare homes the Hunt family owns. Rook took you hunting sometimes, and you’d play hide-and-seek in the woods. Maybe innocent play-fighting was a little…strange and too intimately physical with Rook, who’d always pretend to be the predator and you’d play the prey. But it’s all in good fun, or so you think the next time he proposes you play hide-and-seek for old time’s sake when the both of you are adults. And maybe it ends with you getting your brains fucked out; who knows~~ :)

Step-brother Epel is a sweetheart! The two of you are naturally close because Harveston doesn’t have many other kids your age, so you do nearly everything together. You’re inseparable! When you were young, your parents bathed you together because it saved water and the fun enjoyment of bath time was much more innocent and lighthearted. But now you’re much older and Epel’s shyly asking if he can take a bath with you. It’s definitely weird, but you’re siblings and so maybe it won’t be all that awkward. But of course it is when both of you have matured so much since you were kids. You and Epel will always be each other’s firsts because there’s no one your age in Harveston who can possibly be your first for anything. So he’s your first kiss and, inevitably, your first fuck. <3

Step-brother Floyd…… wooo you just get him, don’t you? You can read him better than any potential partners ever could and he loves that. You really understand him, but it’s only normal you do because you’ve grown up together. You know all of Floyd’s tells, even the ones he doesn’t realize are tells. Floyd will always be affectionate with everyone, but the affection he shows you is slightly different. He’s possessive, violently so, and hates the idea of others getting too close with you. He’s scared off all your past partners, each one made a terrified ex who never dares come near the Leech residence again. When he was little, he’d confidently declare he would marry you, and everyone would giggle about how cute it was. Now, many years later, he’s still determined to make you his spouse. There’s no one else he’d rather be with. You’re the only one for him. He certainly thinks so when breeding season rears its head and Floyd’s desperate to fill you to the brim and claim you as his forever mate. You’ll understand, won’t you? You’ve always been able to, after all.

[lurkingshan]

Hiii Shan,

I cannot remember for the life of me if I asked you about it or not and tumblr search does not help. I've been listening to the @the-conversation-pod round-up ep and apart from making me burst out laughing in public transport, it got me thinking about 'I Cannot Reach You' and the friends-to-lovers trope. Have you ever listed your fav dramas that use it? If not, can I ask for one pretty pretty please?

Thank you for listening to the @the-conversation-pod! And this is such a good question, because friends to lovers is actually a hard trope to get right and often isn't executed that well. It's also a term that is often misapplied to mean something more like friendly to lovers, aka a romance that starts out with the main pair meeting and keeping things platonic for awhile before they escalate to romance.

A true execution of the friends to lovers trope in its purest form is a relationship change narrative, and that requires an established and important friendship, a major transition in the way both members of the pair view each other, and most importantly, lots of angst. If there's no serious anxiety and fear about the changing feelings and losing the friendship present in the narrative, it's not actually friends to lovers, it's just a natural romantic relationship progression. So something like Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo, while a great story about a pair of college students who establish a friendship before eventually realizing they like each other, is not really a FTL as defined here. And my beloved Sing My Crush doesn't qualify either, because romantic feelings were present the entire time, just suppressed.

So with those parameters set, there are only a handful of dramas I think have done this really well. Onto the list:

I Cannot Reach You

You already mentioned this one, so let me just reiterate what I said on the podcast: it's the best friends to lovers bl ever made. This story absolutely nails the relationship change arc and puts us in Kakeru's shoes as he realizes his best friend since childhood 1) is gay and 2) has developed feelings for him, and takes us along for the ride as he decides what he wants to do with that. Yamato is the absolute picture of tortured angst and the whole thing is excruciating in the best way, because it makes the payoff so very sweet.

Fight For My Way

I am pretty sure I have recommended this show to you before, and I will keep right on doing it because it's a fantastic romcom and my favorite friends to lovers drama of all time. This one is heavier on the comedy beats, but still gets to the heart of the fear and anxiety, and also goes deep on how hard it is when one of the friends clues into their feelings much sooner than the other and hangs in as a loyal friend while nursing their wounded heart in private. Watching Dong Man finally figure out what the hell is going on and catch up to Ae Ra was one of the greatest pleasures of my years of drama watching.

Theory of Love

I said what I said and I meant it! This drama is controversial because it hits the angst really hard and pushes the characters to some ugly places and some people just can't deal, but it's such an authentic portrayal of how much it hurts to be in love with your oblivious friend, and how much we hurt ourselves by not being honest about our feelings in a misguided attempt to protect the relationship we already have. I love it dearly and will defend it to anyone.

Romance Is A Bonus Book

A bit on the lighter side, watching this drama is like curling up on the couch in a cozy sweater with your favorite book and a cup of tea. It manages to both take the relationship arc seriously while never once making you doubt that these friends will be okay, because they are truly ride or die. There is also an age gap at play here, so we have the added bonus of watching Dan Yi wrestle with her changing feelings for her best friend that she has always thought of as a little brother. I will never forget her staring into the mirror to practice telling Eun Ho "I don't see you as a man" and getting increasingly desperate as she realizes that is no longer true. *chef's kiss*

My Only 12%

See-iw and Cake, my beloveds! I love this pair a lot, and think this drama is a fantastic example of how powerful the friends to lovers trope can be when combined with a queer awakening and the added layer of fear that brings to the story in a non-bubble show. The arc of their close childhood friendship morphing through time, separation, and changing identities is so so good. This one comes with a caveat because the last two episodes of the show are abruptly bad and weird (New Siwaj *shakes fist*) but happily, the FTL arc is already complete by then and none of the nonsense messes with the couple.

Hospital Playlist

I know you know this one, but I cannot possibly finish this list without talking about Ik Jun and Song Hwa. This is such a slooooooooooow burn that plays out over 24 episodes, and it's brilliantly done. What I like most about this take on the trope is how mature and adult it is; these two are 40 year old booked and busy professionals, and they also value their friendship more than anything. I love that you get the whole arc of their relationship over 20 years as they meet, have initial sparks, don't get together for reasons, genuinely settle into a platonic friendship and date and even marry other people, and then realize their feelings are changing again later in life. The payoff after all this time and patience and quiet yearning is so beautifully earned.

[perfectlyfinespacebacon]

everything now netflix

some spoilers!! and apologies for the long post.

i honestly really enjoyed it! it was almost like a skins/euphoria but imbued with like a heartstopper/sex education vibe in the sense that it dealt with serious teenage issues/mental health but light enough that it doesn't weigh down on you. my character thoughts:

mia was so infuriating almost at all times. obviously under the circumstances, it makes sense but there's this level of likeability that was missing for me. maybe it was the writing or the acting who knows but in my mind it's like this: im making an albeit an unfair comparison to effy from skins or even rue from euphoria, but they were battling their demons and making all the wrong choices but there was still this level of “i want to root for them” that's missing with mia personally.

in a similar vein with alison, she is meant to be this popular rich mean girl archetype who surprises you but obviously in the first half of the season she's supposed to be kind of unlikeable but i found her very endearing. as for the relationship, alison and mia DO NOT belong together. like at all. i am not rooting for them. alison in a way forced a relationship with mia and then also mia was like too scared to say anything about it. its clear that alison liked mia waaaaay more than mia liked alison. like carli says in the last ep as well, “to learn to not be a fantasy to each other”, alison needs to take mia off this pedastal she has for her. i'm very interested to learn more about her character outside of mia though if they hopefully continue the show. i have a feeling that we are supposed to think that she and cameron hooked up at the end or something but i'm rlly hoping its a red herring.

carli is also a character i would love to learn more about. she definitely has more chemistry with mia and i love her for standing her ground against mia, as she needs to help herself before she can be in a healthy relationship. but i will say it was pretty shitty stringing cameron along.

speaking of cameron, i didn't quite expect to like his character as much as i did. in a way his arc in the season is battling toxic masculinity as he kinda seems to come off as this laid back, bro kinda guy but he cares and loves so deeply. it wasn't right calling bec a "sket". i'm not british but obviously its like equivalent to slut, and im very glad he owned up to it. i'm also really interested to know more about his family and stuff.

i love bec as well. she deserves all the happiness in the world. im glad she was able to air out her things with mia, albeit in a very treacherous way and i also love how her mom was supportive of the abortion. i'm honestly kinda tired seeing the mom kicking out the daughter for getting pregnant trope so it was nice to see a mom just being supportive. bec is just such a wonderful friend and mia honestly has a lot to make up for. re not telling mia about her and cam, it was honestly frustrating seeing mia be so petty. i understand that its a big secret and she felt like everyone was hiding things from her but its also right to have secrets amongst friends, idk that really stuck out to me.

will for me had the weakest arc as in it wasn't the most interesting to me. don't get me wrong, i love the character but it just wasnt giving a whole lot to me. i recognize him as more than the comic relief but also at the same time he was stirring the pot in a lot of the arguments / blowups the group had, consciously and unconsciously. though i will say will x theo <3 but comedic duo of the century is will x alison. the little song they did for mia's birthday is stuck in my head.

tldr; great characters and great show. it's really hard to find a show about teens as a 25yo living in a 16yo body that i enjoy and don't find annoying. i just love how each character was able to be so nuanced despite being an ensemble cast.

but knowing netflix's track record it's gonna get cancelled because a) it's good b) has wlw content... but i really hope not.

[emojellyace08]

Hola its me Daniel's simp! Am sorry if am annoying u or anything!! Can we just have Daniel reaction of..reader just being down bad for him. Like When I say down bad I mean it like Xufdfiodpiydoy HOW CAN WE NOT BE DOWN BAD FOR THIS MAN 😭 LIKE SOMETIMES HE'S THE REASON I GET UP EVERY MORNING DIYODIPYIDYDIY..sorry about that. Idk wtf am saying nor doing sorry if am being weird! Also gave a nice day/afternoon/evening or night! ❤

Daniel Park x Reader (Being a simp for him)

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐇𝐇𝐀𝐇𝐀 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞!: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐥. (𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐥. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝. 𝐓𝐲! :)

If you ever met this man on middle school when he's being bullied. You're lucky. Y'know that Daniel has lots of trust issues and anxiety especially in this era. So you gotta be nice to him ;).

I don't know, but at first he just seemed to be REALLY hesitant at making friends at first and warming up because of his past trauma. But once you accepted each other's strengths and flaws he'll definitely become more open about what makes him happy and upset.

(Maybe it's just me that I love the friends to lovers trope more than enemies to lovers trope? HAHAHAHHA). But he's such a gentleman. He's often polite, respectful, yet have that fun and chaotic side of him that will make you MELT. If you like softie guys while still having that balance of masculinity you will like him a lot.

I think Daniel knows and loves to ride a bike. And if you don't know how to (like me), he'll happy to teach you out! Y'know those cheesy romantic scenes in love stories? That's what I am talking about he'll definitely push you to learn (but if you're uncomfortable he will stop of course) and once you mastered it he'll ask you out for a biking race at the sunset as long as it's safe and there's not many vehicles moving on the road.

Jamming in his apartment while his mom is out, listening to your favorite music while dancing around like idiots, eating at your favorite food places while comically arguing who's going to pay the bill, doing other silly things, and opening up to him are the most fun activities to do with him in my opinion. You know this guy is very empathetic and a very good listener since he's been through tough challenges in his life. Being friends with him is not just about spending your time and creating fun memories. It's about opening up to him as he does to you since you trust each other. I think that's one out of the many factors you're going down bad for him man. If you tell a sad story in your life, he'll cry. If you tell about an embarrassing and cringy memory on your school, he'll laugh his ass out yet with a gentle giggle. Same goes to his second body. The taller male is so similar to him that you almost feel like he's Little Daniel. They're both so humble yet so fun to hang out with. I don't know I'm word spilling rn but I just love him so much.

He may not realize it but he also dresses well in any fashion like KL:HDLK:HLAHSLA:. He might ask for help for fashion advices!

This man used to have those issues about opening up so be prepared when he's gatekeeping so if you are helping him out whole-heartedly in his issues he'll definitely fall in love with you.

He's really surprised and GETS REALLY NERVOUS when you suddenly jump on his back for a piggy-back or when you hug him from behind. And he would hide his face with his hand while he's blushing (especially when you compliment him not only about his looks but when he does a great job at something). He really also likes your company so once his feelings developed more into something deeper, he'll be more awkward around you (in a good way he's so anxious that he'll mess up lol).

He may be the type to ask your friends that knows that you're crushing on both Daniels. He may have that 0_0 face all the time because of how thick and weird the atmosphere is while your friends have that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) face because they can see how nervous you are around him. It may take a while for the both of you to confess but you'll be both blushing once you both found out that you're crushing on each other the whole time. Once he's courting you he'll give you your favorite flowers and chocolates before going out on a movie or cafe date or just plain cuddling at your or his place. Or if that sounds too cliché for you, he'll luckily listen and accept your date ideas as long as both of you are safe, it's affordable, and both of you will have fun. And the rest is history.

Bonus!

𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐲-𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲.

"𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. "𝐘𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚." 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲. "𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐬." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭. "𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐜𝐞𝐥." 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐎𝐢 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥!" 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐙𝐨𝐞, 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚, 𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡. 𝐓𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝟑-𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐘/𝐍." 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲) 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬? 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲?" 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐲-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐙𝐨𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚.

"𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥, 𝐘/𝐍 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠!" 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐙𝐨𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?!" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬. "𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡. 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞."

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲. "𝐒𝐨, 𝐡𝐨𝐰'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲?" 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. "𝐈-𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞. "𝐈 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐫- 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬!" 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥. "𝐍𝐨! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭… 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. "𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩! 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐨…" 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦. "𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐬." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. "𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠…" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲. "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰? 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲. "𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡." "𝐇𝐮𝐡?" "𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞. 𝐒𝐨 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐛𝐲 𝐢𝐭. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞." 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. "𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫? 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥? 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. "𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐈 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐈 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭-𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈'𝐦 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐮𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞-𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬. 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫."

"𝐀𝐡, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘!" 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭. "𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐢��𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰-𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫. "𝐈'𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰." 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. "𝐈'𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞-𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. "𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚?" "𝐔𝐡𝐡𝐡 𝐧𝐨, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧." "𝐎𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡… 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐱𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭-𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡). 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬. "𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐙𝐨𝐞!" "𝐍𝐨! 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝." "𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐙𝐎𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄!" "𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞." "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲?" "𝐖𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞…" "𝐉𝐨𝐲?!" "𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏-𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞." "𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥?" "𝐌𝐞𝐡, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬." "𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭?" "𝐔𝐡, 𝐧𝐨. 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞."

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 (𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬) 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐲, 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. "𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭?!" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐭. "𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧. "𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡." 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. "𝐘𝐞𝐩. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬." 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐲𝐞-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫. "𝐈𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐙𝐨𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥." "𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞����𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦." "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐰𝐡𝐨?"

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 (𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥) 𝐚𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬. "𝐘/𝐍! 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥! 𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦!" 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. "𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐒!" "𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓!" "𝐒𝐡, 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬." 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐬. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬. "𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬, 𝐈 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞." "𝐍𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚." 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭. "𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞-" "𝐘/𝐍!" 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞. "𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞? 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞." 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. "𝐘/𝐍 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒!" 𝐙𝐨𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝, "𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨! 𝐖𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐊𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬!" 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫.

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟/𝐜 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐥𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬. "𝐈-𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈-" "𝐎𝐢, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭?" 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲."

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐬 (𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧/𝐬) 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝?!

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞.

"𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐘/𝐍, 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐘/𝐍. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝. 𝐀𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡���𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈'𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.

𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐀𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨! 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐘/𝐍, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭."

-𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 :)

Feedbacks would be appreciated!

Other requests will be done! (I'll make a smut version of this and the other Gojo Fem! reader)

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐞𝟎𝟖. 𝐑𝐞-𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐲!