#if u are wondering if this applies to u it Does

[gaydennisreynolds]

i love you anyone who is brave enough to have created Something and posted it online for others to see. you make the world go round

[wackywatchdotcom]

Seeing you be very normal about small details in the show got me thinking about Pomni, and I was wondering if you've thought about the possibility that Pomni probably hasn't eaten in several days. Like, we know they don't NEED to eat.. but it's probably not healthy for her mentally to skip the process of 'taking care of your body'. Ragatha, for example, says that participating in sleeping despite the fact they don't need to- helps keep them mentally steady. Idk just a thought..

ooooooooh.... its a good thought!!!!!

i DO think that like. theres definitely some psychological aspects to a lot of things like eating and sleeping that i feel like tadc characters would be at risk of neglecting... like with something like sleep, i think they can go without it for a LONG time without physical fatigue BUT at the same time like. psychologically sleep is IMPORTANT. i dont know all the science of it but iirc sleep isnt just a physical need but i get the feeling thats not smth that occurs to people in the circus often :[ ragatha seems aware enough of the benefit of the routine of sleeping and how the adventures can be helpful for that to BUT i imagine even she doesnt fully realize that sleep is still pretty important for them, just in a different way

on that note i could definitely see eating being similar!!!! its not something thatll physically harm a person in the circus if they dont eat but also eating is a deeply ingrained aspect of human life, and while i struggle to place a specific problem abstaining from it for too long in the circus couls cause, i COULD imagine it being like. at LEAST psychologically disorienting. especially with jax claiming he feels hungry??? it implies that its similar to the breathing thing that they may not phsyically need to , but their mind still assumes they do....

i DO get curious if they have like. regular meals?? i liek the hc that theres some sort of kitchen in the circus (seeing the weird little couch area was SOOO exciting for me, im super invested in finding out more about the layout of the circus!!!!! i like details like that theyre FUN) so imagine theres SOME way to access food just like how they have bedrooms (though, i get the feeling caine doesnt have a complete idea of what sleep IS but thats a diff thing). but also with them having a feast at the end of the pilot could imply they do, but with that 'reward' not being brought up at ALL in the next three eps (caine has the opportunity to mention it but noticably doesnt, especially in ep 2 where he just full on Leaves after the adventure- it seems more like he just sorta congratulates people on completing adventures and makes sure everyones accounted for and calls it a day) makes me think that communal meals are NOT super common, or at the very least them being coordinated by caine isnt...

all that to say that if shes only been part of the ep 1 feast (i cannot imagine she ate i feel like she was too out of it to do Anything😭) i am unsure if shed have gone out of her way to find a kitchen... if she wanted to know i think shed feel comfortable asking ragatha about it, but i wonder if its even crossed her mind???? and i imagine that would be jarring for her to realize, and also generally psychologically Not The Best for her...

[unma]

You thought I was done?

Well you see. The Great of How I Ruined It All for Unma <3

I have. So so many thoughts on this one actually. Wow.

It took me a bit, listening to this a couple of times before it finally clicked. This is the end. How he ruined it all. Not necessarily just for Unma himself, though, but for his family. He's not only failed their expectations, he's trampling on them and reducing their hopes to ashes.

And it only took him falling into the deepest pits of despair for him to actually do something about it all.

It was the chorus that made it click for me. "You can't tell me how to live." He's finally making his own choices, unburdened by their own selfish desires. He's finally making the choice to be selfish.

"Light a new fire for what we used to aspire to be" is so melancholic. Unma has grown to be such a radically different person from who he wanted to be growing up, from what everyone around him expected of him. But perhaps it's not the end of all those hopes. Perhaps this will do justice for what used to be.

Shoutout to this verse for the extra implied meanings of the middle two lines. If you keep in mind the saying "Sticks and stones may break my bones...", it takes on an extra context that just. Mwah. Good stuff.

Which is to say, Unma is finally carving a path for himself from all the things that have caused him so much suffering and pain. Lovely.

What do I even say for this one? It's just. really good. As for how it applies to Unma, well, both U and his parents (with their little cult group thing) would see this as an utter failure. Perhaps others, those who care for Unma, would see this as some sort of victory.

Unma thinks this is a pyrrhic victory. He should have done something much earlier, should have fought back, shouldn't have just run away. But it's better than nothing, isn't it?

And so this part of his story comes to an end. He can finally move on, live a better, happier life.

[hiddenbeks]

im getting obsessed w isabeau again which is a good thing bc i miss my evil horse girl... one of my oldest video game o cees... but its also a bad thing bc im still very much in the middle of my heidrun pt and continuing it is starting to feel like a chore. the urge to just rush through the main questline and be done with it grows ever stronger

[shyesterin]

and did you know? u love me. that's right!

[sweenstar-reblogs]

Me gritting my teeth watching West Europe devolve slowly into Overt Nazism (again)

[pukicho]

hey @pukicho i saw your art and i thought it was super cool! you improved so quickly (really impressive btw), and i was wondering what resources used to study art? and what app/website you digitally draw on? and your brushes if your okay with sharing them? and literally ANY other information you had because i would love to learn how to draw?

i feel like a victorian street rat asking for more bread

I use an XP-Pen Pen Tablet and Clip Studio Paint as my program of choice, but any pencil and notebook will suffice for learning, and may even be better. As for learning, I use books, baby!!! BOOKS! I'll even be nice and tell u which ones, because I am a lover of shared knowledge:

How To Draw by Scott Robtertson - deceptively complex book on perspective. It tells you how to draw a box, I then suggest you draw a fuck-load of boxes in correct perspective before moving forward. Having a strong grasp on planes and perspective allows you to properly grasp the volumes and shape of almost anything. It's the baseline principle to visualizing what u wanna draw. Without simple forms understood in perspective, you merely lack the skills necessary to draw from imagination.

Carlson's guide to landscape Painting - A good book, even if u don't intend to draw landscapes. Tons of clever explanations on lighting and value. Tons of useful relational shortcuts to understand complex scenery in smarter ways. I like the way he explains things, it makes me go ohhhh.

TACO point character drawing 1 & 2 - Two NEAT anatomy reference books. It's mostly just a collection of simplified, anime-esque proportional figure drawings. They're a great reference, but I absolutely wouldn't use it as my only set of books on anatomy. It's still useful to use and learn, but in a more general way - and I can't currently apply everything the book tells me yet, because I haven't learned the forms in more detail first.

The Human Figure by Jon H Vanderpoel - this is a short, but VERY useful anatomy reference book. The Author is from the early 1900s - real oldschool, which is good. He has a very useful, matter-of-fact writing style. This is the better starter book to use in order to remember the proportional relationships of the human body (even then, it's still not enough)

The Practice of Oil Painting & Drawing by Solomon J. Solomon - I'll be honest, this one makes sense to me conceptually, but I cannot fucking execute some of his practices. This dude is from the victorian era, his paintings are in museums and they're too good. It only makes sense that his views and approach to art are headier than some of the other suggestions on this list. The book is still useful, and I presume will only grow in usefulness as I learn. It does still have some cool ideas in the first-half of the book that you can easily apply to your art studies! But the second half is a series of master-derived schools of learning that I have yet to dare touch.

(also check out loomis books. I hear they are good)

ENJOY

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus Draconia: Made Up

… Why does Malleus continue to have some of the most “hey are u lost bbg” facial expressions + poses ever on his initial birthday card artworks… 💀

He really looks like his mom when his hair is all pinned back like in his alt and Groovy look. xbjsbsjww The makeup products he’s using… They look like Giorgio Armani 💰

Rise and Shine!

Humans were blessed with two hands with which to do all of their work. Malleus Draconia had no need for either of his.

Lipstick, liquid eyeshadow, and finishing powder lifted into the air, glowing an eerie green. They uncapped and began applying themselves, gliding easily across his lips, painting his lids, and patting down his pale skin. Already, a cloth was busy polishing his horns, and a brush ran through his hair. A mirror, magically suspended before him, displayed his regal visage--a work of art slowly coming into its peak form.

You had heard Scarabia's vice dorm leader mention that he used magic to do his hair--a complex, precise process--but had never in your life witnessed a show like this. You clapped for Malleus, as if a spectator that had just seen a most wonderous trick.

He cut you a curious look. "May I ask why the applause, child of man?"

"It's just so cool seeing you use your magic," you replied truthfully. "There's so many things happening at once, it's hard to know where to keep my eyes. You're really amazing!"

There was a sound akin to a stifled chortle. These, you had grown accustomed to.

"You never cease to surprise. This is but a modicum of what I am capable of." He almost seemed to pout as he said it, as if itching to demonstrate the full extent of his powers. Wanting praise for something more.

"Oh, trust me. I know you are--but it's nice to see the Malleus Draconia using his magic to do normal, everyday stuff too." You grinned, ducking behind him to peek into his mirror. Your gazes met in the sparkling glass. "I wish everyone could see this."

"It is hardly a matter of importance to share the details of my morning routine with the masses. Besides, Grandmother would no doubt grant me a thorough scolding for allowing myself to be seen in such an improper state.”

He yawned, and a hand moved to cover his mouth, where you caught a glimpse of pointed canines. A rare moment of cuteness, of vulnerability. A side of himself kept private. Such a mundane thing--it reminded you that he, too, was but a student, preparing to tackle another day.

"Maybe not, but then again… maybe they'd see what I see too."

You quirked a brow. "And what is it that you see?"

"That you're not as scary as whatever scary made-up version of yourself they have in their heads. It's not all doom and gloom, wrath and lightning. You're someone that laughs and cries too."

"... Do they have that impression of me?" Malleus brought a hand to his chin. "Odd. When I last conversed with a peer of mine, they were so elated to be in my presence that they fainted on the spot. Lilia commended me for making such a strong impression on them."

"Erm... Lilia might not be the best judge for that." You poked at the corners of your mouth. "You have a nice smile, so how about showing it more? That might draw people to you."

"Hmmm. Like this, perhaps?"

He attempted to imitate you. The result was an awkward facsimile of your smile. Not quite the same curve, and with the tips of his fangs poking out. His eyes, still ominous.

Clumsy, but a little dangerous.

Your heart sprouted wings and fluttered. “It’s a good start! You’ll get the hang of it with more practice.”

Malleus sighed, and at once, the items that had been hovering around him collapsed along with his breath. “This is a conundrum. As a public figure and representative of my country, it’s imperative that I maintain my reputation.”

The fluttering in your chest settled like a stone sinking into the bottom of a lake. A sudden weight, a sadness, sitting in your stomach. He cut a gallant figure--but without the fairy lights and fire, he was but a pitiful creature trapped within stone walls.

Lonely and misunderstood.

Without a word, you slipped a hand into his. Malleus felt cold to the touch, like some long-forgotten relic dug up from some ruins.

His eyes shot wide open with alarm. "What are you..."

"Let's walk to class like this," you suggested softly. "I know you wouldn't harm me. If everyone else can see that... they'd understand, right?"

Shock flooded Malleus's face. Then, like a flash of lightning and a fleeting bellow of thunder, it was over, replaced by the faintest chuckle.

"... Very well." He squeezed your hand, the motion sending sparks of electricity through you. "I would not be opposed to this. If they are to weave tall tales, then all we must do is flip the script and write a story of our own to combat theirs."

[pearlessance]

Killshot, Baby! —part one

summary: nanami kento is a meticulous man; calm, stable, and precise. a perfect antithesis to your messy, impulsive ways. the longer you're around him, the more you're convinced you'll never agree on anything. well…except for the way you fuck.

pairing: brat tamer!nanami x fem!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, 10 year age gap (reader is 18, nanami is 28), fingering, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, use of 'little girl' as a pet name, cum eating, semi-public, praise, size kink, hair pulling, brat taming, reader has added backstory to progress the plot

wc: 3.8k

note: this is my first ever jjk fic pls be niceee :') not sure how many parts this will be, rn I'm thinking like 5-8 but we will see!! heavily influenced by the song killshot by magdalena bay!! tysm for reading i love u <3

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Places like this make your skin crawl. 

Even knowing you need to assimilate yourself to the glitz and glamour of it all, you just can’t shake the turning of your stomach as you watch drops of top-shelf liquor spill over the rims of glass tumblers. Liquid splashes that cost more than a day’s pay for someone less well-off than every person in that room.

When you step out onto the balcony, the air feels icy against your too-warm skin. The city lights twinkle in the distance, disturbing the black of night and shining too brightly to grant you the luxury of seeing the stars.

You wonder what time it is, wonder if curfew still applies for an event like this. And if it does, you’ll surely catch a reprimanding from Yaga in the morning even if Gojo takes the brunt of it. Maki’s incessant questioning that’s sure to come when you step back into the dormitories might be an even worse fate, though. 

“It gets to be a bit overwhelming, doesn’t it?” His smooth voice startles you.

Overwhelming is a cordial way of putting it, you think. “Suffocating might be a better word.” 

He huffs. Not quite a laugh, but a sound of agreement nonetheless. The shadows in the dark corner of the balcony keep you from getting a good look at him. You can only make out a handful of features—a few strands of blonde hair that have gone rogue from the combed, slicked-back style, falling rebelliously in front of his warm eyes. The tan slacks he wears look expensive and pressed, a stark contrast to the wrinkles in his white button-up. The sleeves are rolled casually to his elbows, and the moonlight reflects off the crystal face of his watch. 

There’s something about him that feels…familiar. A strange sort of sameness. And despite the way he exudes the same lavish energy that everyone else at the party does, you can’t help but feel like he’s somehow different than they are. Maybe it’s because you’re seemingly the only two who are struggling to find enjoyment in the reception.

“That bad, hm?” He stands from his seat in the corner and joins you at the railing. Even bent over with his forearms on the stainless steel edge he looms over you; a powerful, menacing presence. A man with an iron grip on control. “Which part, exactly, feels so asphyxiating?”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine. But maybe it’s just the chill in the air. “All of it,” you admit. “The gluttony. The carelessness. Everyone is so out of touch with reality. It’s like they become so absorbed with all the extravagance, they forget most people struggle to make ends meet. Ten minutes out of the city a mother is working eighty hours a week and still having difficulty feeding her children, and they’re drinking bottles of whiskey that cost more than she gets paid in a month.”

Your gaze focuses on his long fingers as he interlocks them together. “You don’t think those with money deserve to enjoy it?”

When you roll your eyes it feels involuntary, like second nature. “There’s a difference between enjoying it and flaunting it. I’ve never met Nanami Kento, but he seems like a real asshole.”

This time he does laugh. And the smile that stretches across his face, revealing a row of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, is nothing short of debilitating. He’s beautiful, achingly so. And the deep, baritone sound of his laughter stirs something strange and warm in your chest.

You continue, asking, “How much do you think it cost him to host something like this? I mean, all together. The drinks, the food, the pay for the waiters, all of it. Even that ridiculous fucking ice sculpture.” He’s still grinning, and as you animatedly speak you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. It makes your cheeks burn. “My guess? Two million yen. Easily.”

“That seems a bit much,” he says. “It’s not that extravagant, is it? It’s being hosted in his home, after all.”

“Yeah, his penthouse,” you say with disdain. “What’s your guess, then? How much do you think was spent on this asshole’s little soiree?”

He seems to contemplate for several seconds, turning his head to the view of the city. His profile is breathtaking; all chiseled jaw and Greek nose and lush lips. You have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the barely-there stubble along his cheek beneath your fingers. “One and half million,” he says.

This time you’re the one who laughs. It’s the first time you’ve done so all night, despite being promised otherwise. “As if that’s any better,” you say. “If he donated even half of what he spent to host a party like this, it could change someone’s life.” 

“I suppose that’s true. But maybe you’re wrong about the reason he’s gone to such extremes. Maybe it’s less about flaunting it and more about filling his home with people. Giving them an excuse to come here.”

“Why would anyone want this many people in their home? Making a mess, pouring their money down the drain? It’s not like this kind of luxury comes easily. He might be an asshole but he’s certainly a hard-working one. Why blow it on something as insignificant as a party?”

His answer comes quickly. “Loneliness.”

He says it with such conviction it’s as if he’s speaking from experience. And you suppose he very well could be. Standing in that crowd, not knowing a single soul apart from the one who’d dragged you here and promptly abandoned you, speaking empty words to people who won’t remember your name tomorrow—it had made you feel lonely, too. Lonely enough to step outside, to find comfort in the quiet as the beautiful man beside you had. “Maybe he should get himself a girlfriend,” you suggest.

“Maybe he should.” The lightheartedness returns to the conversation the second he smiles at you. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I never gave it to you.” Your teasing seems to please him. 

His stare is intense, flickering between your eyes and the clear gloss on your lips. You want him to lean in and taste the cherry flavor. “What should I call you, then?”

You shrug, turning to face him fully, leaning against the balcony’s steel railing. It brings you just a little closer to him. Close enough to inhale the woodsy scent of his cologne. It makes you feel dizzy, makes you feel drunk. You say, “Whatever you want.” And mean it.

This is dangerous, you know. Standing out here alone with an older man, a stranger to you. Away from any semblance of safety. He could do anything to you right now and you’d have no way of fighting him off. He’s too big, too strong. And the worst part, you think, is that you’d just let it happen. That you wouldn’t even mind.

He reaches out and touches your cheek—a gentle, respectful caress. Despite the innocence, it leaves nothing but sinful thoughts swirling in your head. You lean into his touch, trying to ignore the way goosebumps rise over your skin.

“You’re a strange little girl,” he mutters. His voice slides through your center, sultry and captivating. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you or not. It feels kind. Affectionate, even. But you can’t fully decide because your brain begins to short-circuit, hung up on the way the words little girl sounds in his tantalizing mouth. 

“Strange is better than boring,” you tell him. 

“You could never be boring.” There’s that conviction again. So sure of himself. Confident, steadfast, and solid. You wonder silently what that must be like.

Since learning you housed a rare ability to use cursed energy, there hasn’t been a single moment where you’re sure of who you are. But…right now, feeling the heat radiate off his skin, you think maybe you know what you want. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to, though.” The response is quick. Final. He presses his palm flat against your jaw, cradling your face, and slides it slowly to the nape of your neck. The friction feels intense. Heightened.

Your breath comes slow and labored, a conscious effort now. And you figure if he can touch you, that you can touch him back. But it’s less for enjoyment and more for necessity as you place a hand against his chest, feeling the softness of his cotton button-up beneath your palm. The way he looks at you makes your knees tremble. And he’s the solid, magnetic force you need to keep yourself upright.

“Pretty dress,” he says. It’s revealing, more so than you’d realized in the dressing room. Low cut and shimmery and pale pink—your favorite color. His warm eyes pierce yours as his free hand comes to your hip, resting against the textured sequins. “Expensive. Indulgent.”

He’s trying to call your bluff, you know. But your dislike for over extravagance is sincere and though he’s shaken your once calm equilibrium, it satisfies you to know he’ll never dissuade you in this singular thing. “I didn’t buy it.”

“No?” He fists the fabric, pulling the already too-short edge up higher. “Who did, then? Your boyfriend?”

My teacher. You don’t have the nerve to say it, though. Don’t have the words, patience, or breath to explain that Gojo gave you his shiny black card and insisted you find something worthy of tonight’s event. You find evasion an easier line of conversation. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He fists more of the fabric, hiking it higher—inch by devastating inch. The air is cool against your exposed thigh, but it’s hard to notice. You can’t see or hear or feel anything but the way his deft fingertips stroke the lace edge of your panties, a teasing caress. “How…fortunate.”

Your pulse rings in your ears. Warmth builds between your thighs with the promise of his touch that seems to be all-knowing and omnipresent. He presses into the softness just beneath your navel and you can feel the pressure down to your toes. His presence is somehow even more smothering than the energy inside, but this is…different. Hot.

Every nerve ending in your body flares on edge when he slides his hand between your legs, the pad of his middle finger ghosting over your center. Your lips part and your eyelids flutter closed. Separated by only a thin layer of lace, you can feel the heat of him and have to fight the urge to rock your hips against his hand.  When he speaks, the words come out strained. “I need to know that you want this.”

There’s never been anything you’ve wanted more, you think. And you decide to tell him, to let the honesty bleed through, but then he’s moving his hand again, caressing your pussy with deft fingers. He does it with intention—a meticulous discovery of your body, preserving it forever in memory. It's such an intimate touch that it leaves you feeling open, chafed raw. All you can manage is a meek but resolute nod of your head in answer.

But it’s not enough for him. With such decorum, he says, “Use your words, sweetheart. Please.” It’s so polite it makes you ache.

You have to crane your neck just a little to look him right in the eye, but you do it anyway because you want him to see the truth. Want him to see just how bad you mean it when you say, “I want you.”

The corners of his lips turn up into a sinful smirk. And before you have time to catch your breath, before you can process just how unbearably handsome he looks with the city lights reflected in his honeyed hair, he’s slipping his hand into your panties and finding out for himself just how bad you want him. 

He separates your folds and finds your clit with expert precision, already wet and messy for him. Everywhere, all at once—he’s everywhere. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his body pressing against yours. He’s all you can see, all you can smell, all you can taste. The moment he begins circling the throbbing bud your spine arches, pleasure filling you with each calculated movement. “Oh, god.”

You spread your legs further for him, allowing even more access. The steel of his silver watch is biting cold against the too-warm inside of your thighs, the only sensation keeping you tethered to the Earth.

But any attempted salvation is shattered to pieces the moment he presses a finger into you, curling upwards as if he has known your body for far longer than just the night. “Fuck—”

“Language,” he quickly chastises. He slides his hand on the back of your neck into your hair and pulls, forcing you to stare up at him. It is so nearly like punishment, except he adds another finger inside you to join the first which feels much closer to a reward. The stretch is bliss, and you can feel your slick dripping down his thick knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. And you’re not even sure why, but an apology just feels right. Feels good. But not as good as it feels when he presses hard against that soft spot inside you, quickly finding a rhythm that has sweat beading at your hairline. “I’m sorry,” you say again, because all other words have vacated your brain. 

He quickens the pace, fingers drawing out obscene moans from your chest. You wish he would kiss you. You want to feel the pressure of his lips against yours, want to taste the inside of his mouth. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for it, can’t bring yourself to do anything but watch him watch you. 

There’s this look in his eye that makes your heart stutter in your chest. Like he holds something more than divine in his hands. As if you’re not just some girl at a party but some god-like creature instead. You feel warm under his intensity. Burned. 

And when he speaks, his voice is so sultry and deep that you whimper. “S’that feel good? Right there?”

“Yes, yes—please, don’t stop.” You don’t even recognize your own voice. Can barely hear the way you beg for him over the ringing in your ears, permeated only by the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

It’s rehearsed. Practiced. It takes just seconds before you start to feel yourself pull tight, straining against the unforgiving pace he sets. You're a gasping, desperate mess, and he seems to find such joy in it. Grinning down at you, forearm flexing in exertion, veins protruding from his wrist. He curls his fingers inside of you and positions his thumb so that it passes over your throbbing clit with each stroke. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “Do you know how pretty you are, little girl?”

“I—God—I’m gonna cum, I—”

“Yeah,” he coos, tone affectionate and tender. “I know it. Can feel this sweet pussy squeezing me so tight. She needs it bad, doesn't she? Hm?”

He thrusts his fingers into you hard—once, twice, and then your thighs begin to shake. Your fists tighten, knuckles paling as you grip the soft fabric of his button-up. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and then it’s all happening at once, pleasure exploding beneath your skin.

You bite back your moans, trying not to think about the throng of the party just inside. Your entire body vibrates beneath his unyielding movements, slick walls squeezing and pulsing around his thick fingers. You don’t tell him but it’s like he just knows. “There you go,” he whispers, pressing his lips into your hair. “That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. You’re doing so well. Let it happen, jus’ let it happen.”

Earth-shattering. Liquid pools in the palm of his hand and trickles down the inside of your thighs, soaking through the lace fabric, but he keeps you upright on trembling legs. Fucks you through it with those magical fingers of his, and doesn’t stop until tears prick the corners of your eyes. He slows, massaging that sacred spot inside of you just a few times more before slowly sliding his fingers out. When he holds them up between you, shiny and glistening with your slick, you can’t fight off the way your cheeks burn. 

It isn’t until this precise moment that you realize he’s breathing hard, the only chink in his armor of composure thus far. In all your life, in all your experience, it’s never felt quite like that.

Yet still, even more satiated than you’ve ever been, you feel your clit throb as he presses his middle and ring finger into his mouth and sucks them clean. “I…” You what?

Words evade you. You want to tell him how good it was, want to get on your knees and repay the favor, want to tell him your name. But his stare is intense and intimidating and—

The balcony door slides open and you both move quickly—stepping away from each other, smoothing the wrinkles out of your clothes.

Your heart races behind your sternum as Gojo steps out, all-black suit pristine save for the unbuttoned coat. “Nanami! I was just coming to find you to introduce you to our very special student, but it seems you’ve found her all on your own.”

Nanami?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe the hand that was inside you seconds ago on the back of his slacks. “Satoru,” he greets cooly.

Suddenly the balcony feels more suffocating than the unruly party inside. For a single second, the thought crosses your mind that you could jump right off the edge of the railing without a moment’s regret.

Gojo shoves his hands into his pockets and speaks with an airy tone, but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears.

Kento Nanami. 

The reason you’re here. The man who’d invited you. The man who’s hosting this party.  

Every second that’s passed since you stepped foot onto the balcony flashes through your brain. All the terrible things you’d said about him, every word of agreement he’d uttered back. Every signal, every sign he’d given you to shut the fuck up, and somehow you’d missed every single one and just kept on talking.

Guilt slithers down your spine, settles in your gut, and makes a home inside. You’d meant it, though. Every single word you’d said. But you’d never meant to say it to him, had never intended to be cruel. 

And then you proceeded to let him touch you without an ounce of resistance.

A grade one sorcerer, someone you should be learning from, someone you should revere…and you’d let him stuff you with his fingers before even knowing his fucking name. Begged him for it, even.

He’d licked them clean.

Gojo says your name, pulling you out of your head and back into the conversation. “Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of it.”

“Fine,” you answer too quickly for it to sound convincing. “I’m fine, sorry. It’s just…late. What did you say?” You try to ignore the sticky feeling between your thighs to no avail. 

“We’re going to head back now,” Gojo repeats. “If we stay much later I worry Ijichi might send out a search party for us.”

You’ve never been more ready to leave than you are right this second. You turn to Nanami and nod politely. “It was…uhm. Nice to meet you, sir.”

There’s nothing else to say, so you don’t. Pushing past Gojo and back inside, you weave your way through the moving crowd of people, trying to find the front door. It takes longer than you anticipated, but once you’re walking down the long penthouse hallway to the all-glass elevator you start to feel your shoulders dropping. 

You recognize the pattern of Gojo’s long strides easily, and he catches up to you just as the elevator doors slide open.

Ever the gossip, he’s making insinuations as soon the two of you step inside and begin the timely descent. “That was the most awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. What the hell happened between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Right…” 

“I mean it,” you insist. Because you might be older than the other students and Jujutsu High, but the last thing you’d ever want to do is put Nanami in a position to be ridiculed. He didn’t know. And you didn’t, either. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, voice holding a sarcastic edge. “Nothing happened. That’s why you had this look on your face like you were trying really hard to make yourself spontaneously combust. Right, right. Sounds like nothing.”

“Sounds like nothing because it was nothing.”

He sighs dramatically, turning to fully face you. “I can keep a secret. You know that. Just tell me now and we never have to talk about it again, I swear.”

You stand stone still, lips sealed firmly shut.

Gojo presses his hands together and juts out his bottom lip, and you wonder how the fuck you’d ended up here. Watching your mentor—a grown man—pout like a child for a scrap of information. 

With a roll of your eyes, you say, “We can stop at that mochi place tonight if you never speak of it again.”

“Deal.”

He stays true to his word, and you stay true to yours. 

When Gojo told you all about it on the way to the party, you’d thought he’d been exaggerating the decadence of the treat, but it truly was the best you’d ever had. You return to the dormitories with kinako dusted fingers, and Gojo doesn’t ask about Nanami again. 

You think, hope, that it’s the end of it. Hope that when you inevitably cross paths with Kento Nanami again, you’ll be able to act professionally. You’ll put this calamity behind you, never to be repeated, and absorb the knowledge he can provide about wielding cursed energy like a blade.

But when you wake up the following morning, Maki’s pounding on your bedroom door, holding a bouquet of white flowers in a pale pink crystalline vase. There’s a white, lace ribbon tied around the center of it with a hand-written note attached. The penmanship is meticulous. Precise. 

It reads, Thank you for the perspective. Apologies for the overindulgence. -K.

Maki’s brows are raised and her eyes are wide. She pushes you back into your room and seals you both inside. “Talk.”

taglist; @maybe-a-bi-witch @zeunys @mima0127 @unicornflutter

[bloomzone]

skincare mindset ?

So what if your skin has breakouts? So what if someone points it out? Your beauty, confidence, and power don’t disappear because of acne !Real beauty isn’t about perfectionit’s about being you .

You are strong enough to face the world, with or without clear skin. Keep showing up, keep taking care of yourself, and keep loving the person you are beyond the surface. Because u exactly as you are are already enough.

There will be days when your skin feels like a battle, when you avoid mirrors, when you wonder if people are staring. But listen your skin is not your enemy. It is healing, growing, and protecting you every single day. Instead of criticizing it, start appreciating it.

Every small act of care washing your face, applying moisturizer, choosing not to pick is a step forward. Even if progress feels slow, u are healing pooks

And to those who mock, judge, or act superior because they don’t have acne their words do not define you. Their validation is not needed. You don’t owe anyone “perfect” skin to be worthy of respect, love, or confidence.

Walk into every room knowing that you are enough, exactly as you are. Your skin is a part of you, but it does not define your beauty or your power.

also it's easy to feel discouraged when someone with flawless skin claims they only use water or some 1k dollars products but your skin has different needs and that’s okay and you are not forced to buy flipping shh that y'know damn it's just aesthetic . Instead of chasing quick fixes , build a routine that works for you.

Start with the basics and go to a parapharmacie and ask about what is right for u : a gentle cleanser to remove dirt and oil, a moisturizer to keep your skin hydrated, and sunscreen to protect it. acne ? add products that support healing, like niacinamide, salicylic acid, or a soothing toner there is no shame in googling ur needs and know the acids that ur skin need to feel calmer and healthier. But remember less is more. Overloading your skin with too many products won’t speed up results it might just make things worse.

The problem arises when tiktok viral skincare “cures” are presented as quick fixes, and many users expect instant results, leading to impatience. This unrealistic expectation can cause frustration when results aren’t immediate, and people begin to doubt their routine or skip essential steps . Worse, influencers might promote products that don’t align with their actual skin type or needs, leading to confusion among followers who are still figuring out their own skin.

Filters and editing apps only add to the distortion. Everyone looks flawless in the perfect lighting or when skin is digitally smoothed. This creates an unrealistic standard that makes those with natural skin feel less than. It’s hard to focus on what’s healthy when your feed is filled with “perfect” skin, and everyone seems to have found the one magic mask or whatever..

In reality, skincare is a long-term journey, and no product or trend will work for everyone. What works for someone else may irritate your skin or give no results at all. The constant influx of trends makes us forget that our skin isn’t a trend to be followed it’s a unique part of our body that deserves patience, self-care, and a personalized routine.

Be cautious of what you see online and take advice with a grain of salt. Don’t let any social media platform pressure you into thinking your skin isn’t good enough because it doesn’t match the “perfect” standards set by influencer Not because you don’t use high-end products like La Mer, glowrecipe, or drunk elephant means you’re failing at skincare. Your skin’s journey is your own and it’s okay if it doesn’t look like anyone else’s .

Don’t fall into the trap of quick fixes or comparisons. Instead, remember that every step you take in your skincare routine is a chance to show yourself love, to slow down and care for your body. u are worthy of care

with love @bloomzone

[en-lov3r]

Seduction ꨄ︎ | Jay Park

Pairing: Jay x fem! reader (stalker/new backup dancer) Genre: Smut, dancer au, stalker, sex buddies Warnings: NSFW, Unprotected sex, sexual explicit content, nipple-play, masochist, possessiveness, anger issues, seduction, huge cock, sexual abuse, wet pussy, quiet-fucking, physical abuse, not proofread, creampie, squirting, orgasm Word Count: 3,729 words Note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS! ! ! I really appreciate it. I have many ideas coming up and hopefully I write more fanfics :) enjoy reading~

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

You were determined to get Jay's attention. Something about him, the way he dances in camera, unleashed that sexual side of you, frankly you wanted to get fucked rough and hard by him.

Although, it' was difficult to try and win him over, the only way to, was to be his backup dancer. You trained hours and hours, mainly to be his dancer. You practiced every night to nail every perfect move of every choreography there is. You got bruises on your knees and arms, pain relievers to take on the side, meals being skipped, you were put at your misery, but all of this was for Jay.

When auditions opened to be one of ENHYPEN's backup dancer, you immediately applied, you waited nervously, biting on your fingernails, your legs being covered by your arms, anxiously waiting to see if you will get in.

The next day came. You got accepted. You were happy, crying tears of joy. Sensualizing enough that you'll get to be with Jay. You saved up enough money to get there, but the company paid for it. You arrived at this hotel, the same hotel that Jay and his other group members will be in. You were in a room full of their other dancers, they tried talking to you but you didn't pay much attention. You guys had to rehearse for the group dance, you met with ENHYPEN in another room, which was a dance studio and there you practiced with them. Beforehand, you requested your manager to be Jay's backup dancer. When she agreed, you silently jumped with joy. When you guys get into positions, you saw Jay, his tall broad figure staring at you. You were shy and fluttering with joy. You wanted to be his. One of the dances involved touching his jawline, as soon as you did, he stared at you with a fierce expression, he was absorbed into this group dance. After the group performance ended, you guys went back to the room and prepared to sleep. Instead, you sneaked out at night when others were asleep and tried to find out every floor Jay was in. You took the stairs to find out every floor he's in, starting with the top floor, just your luck, you saw him, you nervously panicked and thought of all the possiblities with him. You imagined secretly sucking his cock, smiling at you while you take that in your wet mouth, the thought of it is making you wet. You waited for hours and hours to see if he will come out, the next moment, he did, he's walking to the restroom nearby. Once he closed the door, you went to the other hallway, where the restroom is near, peeking to see if he'll come out. You thought about putting your ear next to the door to see if he's peeing, you did, the next thing you know, he opened the door.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked so angrily, all shocked and bewildered

"J-Jay- u-uhm I- I" muttered nervously

You started to panick. You didn't know what to say, before he was going to say something, you risked it, you quickly unrevealed your nightdress gown, pulled up your bra to show off your boobs. You hoped your plan worked, beneath the gown, you wore an enticing bra, that's lingerie, along with your panties. You then flipped your sleek hair, staring at him with such doe eyes, and there he was, entranced.

Perfect, you said in your mind, he finally noticed.

Jay looked over at you, his eyes lingering onto your cleavage, he gulped. The sight for him was just amazing enough to get him hard down there, his big bulge slowly forming. He wondered how a girl knew which floor he was in. But besides that, he wanted to lick your boobs, your nipples looked really erotic for him he just wants to tease them, he wanted to feel your breasts himself and bury his face until he gets lost within them.

You were extremely pleased, you knew your plan worked all along, all of this is making you wet, just the thought of Jay looking at your boobs is making you really horny.

"Oh fuck, baby I-" he whispers, still staring

"Wait, aren't you my backup dancer?"

He knew your face as he looked at you real hard. You almost came when he said that. You just nodded and responded back.

"You wanna do it in that restroom?"

"Fuck yes." He took your hand and let you in, he peeked left and right in the hallways to see if nobody is looking and there he closed the door and rotated the lock so quietly, it wouldn't make noise.

"You know, a girl like you shouldn't be wandering off."

"I didn't want to miss a chance to see you."

"Wow, you are quite the stalker aren't you, now that we're here, how about you serve my needs right now" he smirked

"Yes! anything for yo-" slapped

"Shut the fuck up before people hear your loud fucking voice"

You got slapped by Jay. You felt as if the light switched. His aura about him became dark. The blood started rushing to your ear and face. You couldn't stop but think about it, but the thought itself, the adrenaline, the rush, it all came to you, you loved it, you wanted his attention, you got it, that slap was just enough to make you twitch, you knew you wanted fucking more.

"C'mere, get my hung cock out right now."

"Yes daddy."

You obeyed. As your dainty hands reached for his crotch. He grabbed you by the face forcefully, and put his lips to yours, kissing you so aggressively. You melted into his kiss. He towered over you, with a demeaning gaze, your lips started becoming swollen as he kept on sucking your lips, you enjoyed it so much. He soon parted away as he chuckled, staring at you with a degrading intent as he wiped the saliva from the corner of your mouth and took your hand and spat saliva on it, still dripping while he was looking at you with lust.

"Because your taking fucking long, let me do it myself."

He opened his pants quickly, just to lower his underwear to reveal his crotch, and there it was his huge cock, you were gagged, it was so big you wanted it all for yourself and no one else can. He ordered you to use his saliva to lubricate it.

"Rub on it" he grunted

His cock was so massive. It looked really suckable. It's unlike any of the other dildos that you ever used, his cock exceeded your expectations. It would destroy your hole so bad.

As you were rubbing his long hard cock, he bowed his head down, ran the tip of his nose against your collarbone, following with his tongue and lips, he took your hip in his hand, your knee began to bend.

"And here I never thought to stumble across somebody as spicy as you." He pulled his head into a grin

"I'd never thought to fuck someone as handsome as you."

"Well, I'd never thought my dance partner would be serving me right now."

"Well, it's your lucky day today."

You put his veiny hands against your thigh and pulled his hand higher.

"See how wet you get me feeling?"

"Fuck~ baby~" He ran his long fingers through your wet folds.

You were sure he had a firm grip around you. You gently lifted your hand to undo the buttons on his black polo shirt. The muscles of his stomach trembled across your wandering fingers. He started at you with a dark gaze, so much to the point he wanted to put his cock inside your mouth. He stared at you so sexually, his desire was getting stronger, you saw his hunger and need in his eyes as he started to play with your clit, you flinched and scrunched your eyes, as he began to stare at you, sucking on your nipples now, he began to play with them with his tongue, going around circles as he began stimulating your wet insides. His cock still hard as you jerked it off frantically, trying to invigorate it. You stared at him so gently, he began to bite down on your lower lip, you flinched in pain as his teeth sank. He instantly made you drop down to your knees as he pushed down on your shoulders, plopping you instantly. He stared at you from down below, enticingly waiting for you to suck on his big cock.

Before you knew it, his cocky shit began quaking at the sight of your touch. His hand came to stroke your rosy cheek as you glanced at him. You maintained eye contact, until he thrusted his cock inside your mouth, his hands at the back of your head. He tasted so good you felt his cock grazing inside of your mouth. Saliva collected at your lips and dribbled down your chin as you continued to deepthroat him, trying to make him lose quickly as possible. Your hand wrapped around his big long calves as you adjusted your knees against the cold restroom floor, the tiles deliciously burning against your soft skin.

"You like that baby? You want more of this fucking cock?"

"I need more please." you asked as you pumped him quickly and licked his pre-cum away. Your mouth took him again as he cried out, "Shit! Your mouth is so fucking good!" His hips began to push back and out even more repetitively until he reached the back of your throat. He grabbed your head forcefully as he started jabbing his cock inside forcefully, with your warm mouth almost making him reach climax, your eyes soon began tearing up, as that overwhelming rush of pleasure soon began to reach over him. The next thing you knew, he gasped, "S- Shit! I'm about to cum inside your mouth baby, fuck!" strings of his release pushed into your throat, as your eyes smiled with delight.

The sensation made him stumbled as he fell back against the bathroom sink down to the floor. As he sighed in relief, he saw you, licking his remains against your lips and giggled at his dazed look. You smiled, totally smitten at the look of his face. You weren't able to orgasm, but you he had more for you in sight, he gestured you to leave and lock the restroom door, you did. But he mouthed the words quietly, "Just know, I'm putting this fucking cock inside you," he tiredly drainedly said, his arms sinking to the ground.

You smiled and winked at him. "Yes, Jay."

As soon as you closed the door. You quickly positioned your bra and panties as you quietly hummed across the hallway and back down the stairs to your room. You quietly opened the door to still see everybody sleeping. You went to your bed and you envisioned Jay fucking you hard, fantasizing that moment, you went to sleep with your fingers inside your pussy, jamming your fingers repeatedly until you finally came. You then slept in pleasure and awaited the next day for performance.

It was the next day. You woke up feeling happy. You came from the hotel and went down the stairs, along with the rest of your fellow dancers and went to the dining hall to eat. You soon saw ENHYPEN and they sat the opposite table from you. You saw Jay, as he groggily plopped himself down the chair, you met eye contact with him as he soon recognized you were the girl from last night, he kept staring at you while he was eating, your stomach fluttering in joy.

"Hey! Is it just me or he's staring at you like real hard?" One of the group dancers said

"I don't know. But I don't mind." I said confidently

You still locked eyes with Jay, you took your spoon and dipped it into the mashed potatoes and gravy, you brang your spoon up just for him to see as you intertwined your tongue against the stoop, licking it, sucking it hard, for him to get horny. He saw and he looked at you with a sexual gaze, he wanted your tongue to gratify himself too. You guys began to display sexual affection to each other, this time, he had some gravy still on his place, he took his middle finger and index finger and scooped it out, sucking on his tongue, and smirked, just the thought of this sight made you really wet, you wished he jammed it inside you, his long big fingers was enough to get you going. But all was fun until brunch was finished and you guys now had to get going for your performance.

It soon was performance time. You guys had to get ready and get your makeup done. As you were about to get on stage, ENHYPEN was on the other side, as you guys were going to get into position, you knew you were assigned to be Jay's backup dancer. You enthusiastically were inclined as you couldn't wait for what's about to come after this performance. With each move, Jay stared hard and hard at you. You felt butterflies in your stomach. But the way he looks at you looked real menial, each move you guys do, he just gives you an angry look. He looked real aggressive, he started panting when dancing, still staring at you, as you felt his jawline sweating profusely, like a dog in heat. The way he danced made you really horny but you couldn't help but wonder what made him act up like this. Once the performance ended, you guys went backstage, but you saw him as he took his chance when nobody was looking, he took your wrist in pain, his palm sweaty as ever, you jumped, you ran with him all the way to the janitor room, where they keep all the supplies, he locked the door once again, this time, he looked at you with mad intent.

You looked around the janitorial room, it was really small. "I don't want to wait any longer," he whispered hardly in a soft tone. You looked up at him, his hands wrapping the sides of your waist. You nodded your head as Jay chuckled and hold you tight on his chest. "This is the closest to privacy we will be getting," he moaned softly into my ear. "Now I'm impatient." You knew what to follow and with each passing second, he became antsy, you leaned forward and kissed his face, chuckling that he has you all for himself. You look at Jay, giggling that you left a kiss mark stain on his cheek.

"What's so funny" he said confuzzled

"Y-you have a kiss stain on your cheek, hold on I-"

He disregarded you like trash and made you plummet to the floor.

"You fucking bitch, I can't be going out like this,, what if my members see me?!" He spouted in anger

"Don't worry, I'll-"

He pulled your hair in fustration, tugging it, letting his anger out on you.

"You better pay for this."

"I'm sorry!" I pleaded with mercy.

"I don't think so you slutty bitch, now take what I give you."

He opened your mouth as he opened his zipper and quickly entered. Bruising your throat once again. This time, he kept thrusting his cock real hard, barely allowing you to even breathe. You kept tapping on the black cloth of his pants but he didn't budge, not even once. Your eyes forming tears as his cock was too big to handle. As he propped you up roughly, he quickly took off your pants and inserted his fingers into your pussy not so gently, you kept moaning as Jay pulls out with a squelch, he seemed to be enjoying it, staring at you in disregard as he smiled. He soon flipped you over so he can be facing your back, as he smacked your ass so harshly with his big veiny hands. It left a big red mark. You enjoyed him inflicting pain onto you. As now it's what became pleasure. He grunted as he hovered over you, attacking your nape as he bite down, you gasped, "F-fuck me!" As he kept sucking and biting, trailing down your spine until he reached to your ass and to your pussy. He gives it another slap before his tongue darts out and licks the reddening print he imprinted onto you, as it begins to soothe, he began to bite down with his teeth, causing your ass to feel more pain than ever. "MMmMm"

"You like that?"

"Yes I fucking do."

"Just wait until I put this fucking cock straight up your pussy."

"Please do."

"Oh yeah? Tell me how bad you want it."

"I f-fucking want it right now."

"Huh? I couldn't hear you, speak up you slut."

"I fucking want it right now!"

"For god's sake, be fucking quiet!" He growls

His fingers digged into your entrance even more as the pain still lingered. He soon lastly coated your vagina with slurpy saliva from his tongue as he began to eat you out from behind, you started to let out soft moans. He then dived his face between your ass as you shaked it so gently, for him to create noises as he kept nibbling your butthole, your legs trembling in pleasure. Jay stood up and then kissed you ever so softly before he pulled back from your lips. Jay hurriedly thrusted his cock inside your pussy, feeling your wet insides as it kept stimulating his cock to become even harder and longer than it orignally was before. It kept growing inside you that you started to feel it from your organs. It was so fucking hot. He was too quick to thrust inside you, barely giving you time to even breathe, as he slams in and out. A hand reaches out as he grips the front of your neck, squeezing so hard you were about to choke. You derived from this satisfication, this pleasure you were feeling, you needed more. He started to pick up the pace as he groans into your ear, his dark and husky tone "Y-you only make me feel this type of way for you." He kept ramming your insides like slushy. Jay's hard cock made you prone to having an orgasm. His stallion like legs bend down a bit as he grabs your butt-cheeks, spreading them more.

You guys soon heard a loud noise while you kept fucking.

"Where's Jay-hyung??" That was Sunoo.

"He must've dashed to the restroom." Jungwon said.

Their conversation was barely audible, but it was enough to make you guys fuck quietly. With each passing second, you tried your best not to main, but Jay fucked a bit too hard you gasped audible, "AuGh!" Jay covered your mouth with his hand, as he kept thrusting that cock of his, his brows furrowed as he scrunched his face, jamming his cock inside that wet pussy of yours. You tried your best not to moan in pressure with the fact that there are people outside. You're unable to control yourself as you became sloppy with your moans, licking Jay's hand as saliva kept dripping out until it reached down the floor, so sticky.

A big rush of anxiety went across Jay's body as he hurriedly became to pick up the pace and started going faster, both of his hands covering your mouth as you started to arch your back, and his head leaned against the door, you guys still fucking like dogs. You hold onto the shelves in front of you, Jay going faster just to tease you, his crotch and your ass clinking together, making slapping noises, looking at you from the back as he was about to near climax. You encouraged him to cum inside you, wanting his semen to fill up all your insides and up to your throat.

"Please cum inside me Jay, I want your babies, please!" you said in a muffled moan.

"Don't get me started." He panted so aggressively

Before he was about to pull out. You instinctively pushed back so much you guys collided against the door, his cock still inside you, you began moving yourself until he was going to cum. He couldn't do much about it, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he caved in you doing the work, you kept riding and dancing on his cock up and down, swish sounds forming as you were about to orgasm. He smiled in aggravation, "Oh yeah, dance on that dick, show me." he soon began pumping himself, as he was also nearing climax, he began to massage your nipples, feeling for them, grabbing your tits together and pushing them. Jay soon stiffened and grunted "Here it comes!" His cum spilled out in leaks as it entered your pussy, you sticked your tongue out in pleasure, your eyes rolling as he kept pumping out quite a hefty load, causing you to orgasm. "Fuck YeS!" liquid began to poor out from your pussy as it kept squirting all over onto his cock. He exhaustedly moaned, as you slowly pulled your ass from his cock, cum still dripping, intertwined with fluids.

He looked up at you and run his hands against his hair. Out of breath and tired. You stand up and push your breasts against his chest as you lifted your head to give him another kiss, he kissed you back, with two of his fingers up your vagina, arousing him before they slip deep inside. Your legs weakened as you went down the ground, before his pants slid down, just to reveal a hard cock once again.

"H- hah, I'm going to fuck you over and over until you can't stand up and have my fucking babies, you got that?"

I stared at him with such lust from down up.

"Anything for you Jay. I'll be your cum slut~ 𖹭"

He smiled and patted you on the head before he grabbed you close to his cock, allowing yourself to smell that musky alpha cum scent from his dick once again.

"Alright, be prepared to get fucked until I cum dry."

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

Lover, You Should Have Come Over.

They say enemies will stay enemies forever, but that doesn’t apply to you and Karina. Everyone viewed you as the flamboyant— over the top athlete while everyone dawn at her as the quiet, smart and composed girl. The complete polar opposite of each-other yet at the same height of the campus’s hierarchy with respected followers. They were drawn to your flashy maneuvers inside the court and your down to earth and loud persona outside the court, While Karina draws people attention for her serene beauty, her calm and collected demeanor even in midst of debates or exams, she’s everyone’s Idol. while everyone attains to have such a carefree attitude like yours.

It was under dim lights at the court, You and Karina already had some moments you both shared, but you remembered this moment like a highlight in your life. She stood there watching you practice non-stop. “Hey! Y/N, you know resting is also an option right?” shouting over her breath. you replied after wiping your sweat “thanks for the reminder genius!” you approached her after fixing the racks of basketball you used for your practice.

while you two walked out of the gymnasium the night skies lighting up Karina’s face highlighting her beautiful features but her eyes is what captivates you the most, the hue of hazel under the mix of white just shines not only in your eyes but in your soul. While walking Karina fidgets with her hand, it’s rare for someone so composed showing clear signs of anxiety. as you near the end of the cobblestone pathway leading to the main campus She looked at you “U-uhm…Y/N” you answered with a hint of nervousness “yes?, you need something Karina?” she perked up with nervousness hearing you reply quick, it took her a few seconds to say what she was trying to say. “I-I j-just wanted to say that…..” in that moment your mind instantly filled up her words, “I like you”? does she like me? or am I just delusional?” you thought to yourself. But before you could conjure out another delusional thought she finished her sentence “I like you.” those three words filling your heart with enough excitement that could kill a T-rex, you were speechless…. and a whole lot of surprised.

you stood there wondering and recalling everything that had just happen, your sweat falling down unto your cheeks and unto the fabric of your shirt. “really?” as you try to make sense of the situation. She nods with the reassurance you needed and thats when all the weight of your shoulders lifted up like an eagle regaining its freedom. You did it.

For the past few months everyone was shocked, two person from the opposite side spectrum holding hands? sharing lunch and even going home together? its more of a myth than reality, but rest assured it was reality. as the news subsided and everyone grew fond of you two everything went back to normal, too normal while everyone was captivated by their own routine you two aren’t different, being too focused on Sports while Karina is too busy studying your once burning love with each-other slowly turns into an ember that is hanging on for dear life.

As days past also arguments begin to foster, monthly arguments turns to weeks and weeks turned to days.

you were sitting at your usual table at lunch usually with Karina but today? you are all alone. your friends approached you out of worry.

“Yo Y/N you good? your usually with Karina at this time right?” you shrugged and ignored their question and proceeded to eat your lunch.

Karina on the other hand is studying all alone at the library most definitely trying to distract herself from an argument earlier that day. Everyone’s concerned Karina’s circle of friends and even yours, they can’t butt in since they don’t have the right to poke their nose into someone’s business.

Days turned to weeks with no communication with Karina, you were in invited in a pick up scrimmage near the town in which you agreed to, since it don’t hurt having some exposure to coaches or other talents, You arrived at the gymnasium with your bag on your shoulder wearing a compression shirt that hugs your physique. it isn’t typically uncommon for you to have eyes all over you, Its almost a daily thing for you. You walked over the court and did some stretching and almost instantly a team picked you up.

Its another casual game of basketball, you were dominant as ever scoring baskets from all around the court, defending like your life depended on it and reading everyone’s play like they’re just some books with hands and an ability to dribble a ball. You and your team ended up winning 3 games out of 3 with you scoring an amounted points of 47 PTS. Being good was an understatement when describing you, everyone around you already knows that you have the skill to solidify your future for this

sport.

after the game while fixing your shoes and changing your shirt, you heard your phone buzzed you didn’t think much of it. Opening the message and seeing “Karina” on top of the message saying “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry.” instead of making you feel like she’s finally wanting to make your not so little fight over the apology made you more furious as if your pride won’t accept the fact that she was apologizing first which is weird because you wouldn’t apologize even if the world ends.. its one of your flaws thats completely hidden from the outside world.

Karina was tensed and was fidgeting between apps from her phone but when you finally saw the message she was sad that you left it on seen….

When all hopes seems lost, you sent her a message saying “Hey Karina, lets stop this? I just don’t see this relationship benefiting us. You have your future and I have my future, Let’s go follow them.”

—————————————————————————

And those words are the very words that you despite until now, yes you are now a superstar athlete with every eyes on you yet the two very eyes that you used to have for yourself isn’t even looking at you. as the dim lights of the locker room shines upon you, you realized the mistakes you done, all your childish mistakes, all those time you let your pride get the best out of you, when she’s already at the palm of your hands yet you managed to let her go.

“Lover, You Should Have Come Over.”

[taelortot]

The Sun and the Moon

Part zero: Introduction (four screenshots and drabble)

Characters are in college!!!!!

blurb Zero One 1.5 Two

Megumi Fushiguro was not known to be the most patient person in the world. Growing irritated with those who took up too much of the allotted time he allowed for. This would apply to basically everything— getting ready for the day, deciding on what to order at restaurants, perusing the grocery store when only going in for one item— and the list goes on and on. His patience was limited, growing thinner and thinner as the days passed. Megumi was also not known to be the sweetest man in the world, no no no. Quite the opposite really. Snapping at those who interrupted him, growing angry with people who got off task, and frustrated when no one could pay attention for more than 5 minutes.

That applied to everyone. Everyone he’s ever interacted with his whole life. Everyone who has looked his way.

Everyone except y/n.

It baffled his friends. Seriously throwing them through a loop that the man who yelled at them for speaking over him, was now allowing this petite girl to interrupt him to say the clouds look pretty.

“They do, baby” he would smile, turning his full attention to his girlfriend, taking in her beauty as she looked towards the sky.

Huffs and sighs coming from his friends, eyerolls and arms crossing as Megumi allowed his girlfriend to point out little shapes she saw in the puffy white clouds.. instead of continuing to discuss the plan for the mission they were going on in a few days. When his attention eventually returns to where it should have been, his hands always find their way to the girl who is sitting as patiently as she can. Holding her hand in his, calloused thumb brushing over the pretty promise ring he purchased a few months ago. Or one hand on the back of her neck, fingertips massaging her skin, running his fingers through her soft vanilla scented hair.

It wasn’t always like this. It took time. It took time to realize she was always going to be 20 minutes late no matter how early she started getting ready because— “I couldn’t decide between this pink skirt or the other one” or “I couldn’t find my wedges so I had to change my whole outfit to match these ones” and Megumis favorite “I lost my cherry lip gloss that you love so much so I had to find it, doesn’t it taste good?”

So he learned to be patient with her. Only because y/n is hands down the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. AND, she always gave him road head when they are running late to make it up to him.

Oh and he’s so fucking in love with her it’s stupid.

So fucking in love with the vanilla scented girl.

Sweet and syrupy. Sticky and warm. Like sugar cookies and waiting for Santa to come down the chimney.

Giving Megumi a taste at the childhood y/n insists he should have had.

At first Megumi couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that y/n was definitely not all there—In a constant state of carefree living. At first, he truly wondered if she was dropped on her head a few times—only because the shit that came from her mouth were absurd most of the time.

“Do you think if I pet raccoon I could train him to dance?”

“I really wish I could see an alien and ask it if they like ice cream— oh my god what if they don’t even have ice cream? Should I buy some just in case they visit me tonight?”

“Do you think your puppies can smell when I’m sad?”

And that list goes on and on and on. Mostly consisting of questions Megumi has now learned how to answer. Even if the answers don’t make sense.

"I'm pretty sure he could learn to dance, sweet girl."

"What flavor do you think they would like, baby?"

"I think they can sense your emotions, pretty girl"

When I say it took time for Megumi to really understand y/n, I mean it took TIME. But, after finding out the girl has severe adhd, it all made sense. Now he can sit back and enjoy that funny things she does.

As well as relishing in the comfort she gives him. It's like no other. How understanding she is, how she cares for him, how she takes care of him in ways he cannot comprehend. No one has ever taken the time to understand him, to REALLY understand him. Growing fiercely protective of his baby, keeping her safe from those who wish to tear her down in any way they could.

"you're not stupid, pretty girl. they are just jealous of how beautiful you are"

Now... that's always a touchy topic for y/n. Sure, the girl may be a bit ditzy and unaware-- but, why would she need to have a brain when Megumi could do all the thinking for her? A word Megumi heard a lot was 'bimbo', a word he had to look up after some frat guy called y/n that. And... while that might be correct, Megumi didn't see anything wrong with that. Well, the only issue he had was that every person who saw y/n sexualized her. Other than that, he had no issue with how naive and attractive she is. Always making sure to grab a handful of her tits whenever any male looked at her chest a little too long. Earning a giggle and a-- "Gumi, that tickles!"

God she was so innocent. And soooo in love with her boyfriend of 1 year.

There was something about the way she looked at him. A twinkle in her eye or something. It started from when she first made eye contact with him, as if the word stopped and he was all that mattered.

As if he's the one who drags the stars out of the dark every night.

As if he is the reason the moon shines so bright in the dead of night.

Or maybe Megumi was the moon to her. Illuminating the dark to guide her home, keeping her safe from what lurks in the shadows.

Like the way the moon influences the tides with its gravitational pull, Megumi pulled her in whatever direction was best for her. And no matter what, with Megumi by her side, she knew there would always be another bight night.

Another night to sleep safely.

Another night to hear the owl's hoot.

Another night to stay up late talking to the love of her life.

Just another night to be with him.

His little innocent girl— well mostly innocent. The things he’s done to her would surly send them both to hell.

But!! We can discuss that later.

Anyway, there isn’t one thing Megumi wouldn’t do for y/n. He would go to the ends of the earth just to see that pretty smile. While he remained standing with a cool and calm exterior, his body vibrates when he sees his girl. His chest on fire when he sees her smile. Oh god, and don’t get him started on her laugh. When he dies, he hopes that’s the last thing he hears.

It’s like on a semi cloudy day, the way the sun peaks out from behind the clouds, shining rays bursting through to create the most elegant shadows. Or when the sun shines down on painted glass, a mosaic of colors dancing on the sidewalk.

Maybe she’s just the sun.. maybe y/n is Megumis' sun. The thing that keeps him warm, the thing he needs every single day to survive, the light in his dark heart, reminding him that there will always be another day.

Another day to see the sun.

Another day to hear bird chirping.

Another day to be see the love of his life.

Another day to kiss her.

Another day to hold her.

Just another day with y/n.

taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @gradmacoco @koreluvsspring @ersharyzst

[sharararararara]

My Swan- Yandere Viktor Krum x reader

Warning: Obsessive behavior, kinda stalking? Krum is simp for the reader, the reader likes Krum but does not know about his yandere tendencies.

tell me if I missed something.

He first noticed you when he was putting his name in the goblet, you were sitting beside your friends, laughing and smiling together. You looked gorgeous, your smile, your hair, and the sound of your laughter was like music to his ears. Was this love at first sight? He thought, no...he needs to focus on the tournament, he can't be crushing on some girl whom he never interacted with.

As days went by, he couldn't help but think of you, sometimes he thought you bewitched him. He always stares at you from the corner of the room, waiting for you to talk to him.

After he fought with the Chinese Fireball, he got a few burn marks, but he did not really care about them, It was not really that serious. But that was when you came, carrying a basket of medicine, with a worried look on your face. You decided to help the players whenever they got injured, you were good in medicine and can heal people quickly.

You asked him if he was okay if you healed him, he nodded, surprised by your act of kindness. You gently applied petroleum jelly to his burn marks. While you were healing him, he stared at you with admiration in his eyes, that was the time when he realised that he liked you.

After that day he bumped into you again, you were in a library reading a book, he slowly walked to you, wanting to talk to you.

You felt someone sitting beside you, you looked only to see Viktor Krum, the guy you healed yesterday. You smiled and scoot over to give him space, Oh hey Viktor, how are your burn marks? You asked wondering if you did a good job healing him, Viktor said it was healing quickly and was not painful anymore. You smiled at what he said, What are you reading? He asked as he looked at the book you had on the table, You said it was about plants, you had a great interest in plants, you loved taking care of them, and feeling very happy when they grow. Viktor just listened to your rambling about plants. He loved your voice, it was so calming to hear.

The yule ball was coming, but you still did not have anyone to go with. You were sitting in the library, as usual, reading about plants when Viktor came. Oh hello Viktor! Do you need anything? you softly said since you were in a library, I just wanted to ask you something... Said Viktor as he sat beside you. Oh, OK then! What did you want to ask about? You asked as you smiled at him, I just want to ask...If you want to go to the Yule ball with me, Said Viktor hoping that you would say yes, Wait what? W-with me? I mean Viktor there are other girls you can choose from other than me- But I want you, you got caught off by Viktor, Oh well...Sure why not? Viktor smiled as he kissed your cheek, see you then, said Viktor as he walked away. You blushed covering your face and smiling, you got a date with Viktor Krum.

You were getting ready for the ball, you were excited, and nervous at the same time. You were putting on your dress while rambling to Hermione, What happens if he does not like my dress?! Or he does not like my hair?! Oh, Merlin's Beard what happens if he regretted asking me- Relax (your name)! He will not regret asking you! So hurry up and put your dress on because the ball is about to start!

You were in front of the entrance to the Yule Ball when you suddenly hid yourself, OH MY GOSH I CAN'T DO THIS! what do you mean? said Hermione, trying to pull you inside. I'm so nervous Hermione! Why are you nervous?! Krum asked you because he obviously likes you so stop acting like that and get in! But Hermione- You got dragged inside by Hermione when you spotted Viktor, you froze, you could not move, Hermione smirked at you as your face started to become red, You look beautiful (Your name), said Viktor, u-um ah... Thanks, Viktor...You look handsome, I mean uh- Viktor smiled as he extended his hand, you looked at Hermione, and she gave you the biggest smirk ever. You held Viktor's hand as he guides you too the doors that were about to open.

The doors opened, and people were staring at you, Did Viktor Krum really choose you as his date? Of all the girls, it was you who he chose? The girl who was obsessed with studying plants and medicine?

You felt insecure, I should have not came here... You mumbled to yourself thinking no one heard, but Krum did, he heard everything, he heard about the whispers people gave to you. He swears he will kill them when he has a chance, how could they say that to someone as sweet as you? Krum gently gave you a squeeze on your hand, making you look at him, Krum gave you a smile telling you to ignore what they were saying. You nodded smiling back at him.

Here you are, dancing with him,, He looked at you lovingly as you both swayed together, You looked like a swan, so graceful...

The music changed into rock music, everyone cheered and started to dance together. You laughed with Krum, dancing and spinning around.

I will get us drinks, stay here ok? Said Krum leaving to get drinks for the both of you guys, you smiled, you were blushing so much. So how was it? Said a smiling Hermione who approached you. It was amazing, He was so nice and sweet, you said to Hermione. Looks like someone is in love, said Hermione as she smirked at you. Shut up! You shouted as you giggled with Hermione.

A random guy asked you to dance with him, you denied apologising and said that your date was getting drinks for the both of you guys. But the guy kept on forcing you, he grabbed your hand, which hurt you because of his nails. Hermione started shouting at him to let you go, only to be ignored. You were shouting at the guy to let you go until someone pushed him to the ground. It was Krum, you saw the drinks he brought for you in the ground, pieces of glass and juice everywhere. Krum jumped on him trying to punch him, you grabbed his arm trying to get him off the guy. Viktor get off him, please! you shouted which alerted the teachers. The teachers grabbed him, pulling him off the guy who was scared for his life, Krum was still angry at him for touching and hurting you. The teachers pulled him away, pushing him away from the guy.

The night ended with a grumpy Krum and a worried reader, Krum why did you do that-

He touched you! He shouted, turning to you with anger. He touched you and hurt you! I know he did but still, you did not need to hurt him! Viktor grumbled as he sat on the ground. You sighed and sat beside him. But I do thank you for protecting me, You said softly, smiling at him and holding his hand.

Viktor looked at you and smiled, his angry mood slowly vanishing.

It was the day when Viktor had to go back to Durmstrang, You hugged him and kissed his cheek, I will miss you Viktor, you said as your forehead touched his, I will miss you too... Said Viktor as he hugged for one last time.

(your name), promise to write to me.

I promise I will write to you Viktor.

You waved at Viktor when the ship was sailing off, Viktor waved back, blowing you a goodbye kiss.

Hey (Your name)?

Yes Hermione? You looked at Hermione who was beside you.

Have you seen that guy who tried to dance with you in the yule ball? I did not see him in days.

Now that you mentioned it...No I have not seen him.

Maybe he is hiding in his dorm, because of how scared he got of Krum, Said Hermione as you both laughed at the silly joke she made. Not knowing what really happened to him.

Krum killed him.

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

a/n: angst central again lmao but there's something good for everyone ig hehe also dedicated to gigi, who's been the first reader of this hehe

a/n 2: reblogs/comments/likes are, as always, much appreciated! tell me if you like it lmao

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter 3

I learnt, at a very young age, that the best thing to do in any situation, is to ultimately do nothing. If you do nothing, then you will never fail. I’ve managed to spend my entire life doing the bare minimum, but right now? Right now, with Jihoon’s face half a feet away from mine, close enough for me to see the dried tears on his cheeks, I begin to wonder if it’s the best thing to do.

“You should say something,” Jihoon says, wiping his face, “I didn’t run half a mile uphill just for you to say nothing.”

What does he actually want me to say? I’ve furiously racked my brain to find the correct words to say to him; in the aftermath of the argument, but I’ve always come up empty. Its odd, and strangely humbling, this experience. Should I even say something? Am I allowed to? Jihoon stares at me, and it’s only then that I realise, he’s still holding my hands.

“I’m sorry.” I say, “I’m sorry for everything I said that night.”

“No, you were right. I shouldn’t have forced all those decisions on you when you were not—are not ready.” Jihoon says, “but I really can’t imagine myself in a world where I am not your friend.”

He leans down, picking up a plant, “for your kitchen garden. Your chive plant died last month.”

I take it from him, the lingering warmth of his hands on my skin, “this is your idea of a housewarming gift?”

“This is all I could get at such short notice,” he replies, “all the other stores were closed, so I got this from a street vendor.”

“That’s—unexpectedly sweet of you, Jihoon,” I say, turning to place the pot on the floor, “do you want to come in?”

Jihoon nods, before slipping off his shoes and his jacket, entering my still-unfurnished house. All of a sudden, I’m self-conscious about the state of the place, even if he has seen worse. What am I doing, getting worked up over Jihoon entering my home?

“Look,” he begins, standing in the middle of the kitchen, “these past few weeks have been a personal kind of hell for me. I know you don’t care, but I’m just putting it out there. Life without you, without seeing you every day, without talking to you, has been hell, and I don’t want to live in it anymore.”

“Jihoon,” I begin, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.

“I’ve felt like shit, knowing that you’re just out of my reach, to the point where even if I reach for you, you won’t be able to see me, to talk to me, to be the kind of person I know and love, and it’s been excruciating, having to live with that knowledge.”

“Jihoon, what are you trying to get at?”

He takes a deep breath, as if readying himself for something horrible, “what I mean to say, is that I lied.”

“What? You lied about what, Jihoon?”

“It’s about—” he throws up his hands, “don’t you have any alcohol around here? Why do I have to have this conversation with you while sober?”

“Jihoon, I just moved in today. Of course, I don’t have alcohol, you idiot.” I cross my arms over my chest, “if you have nothing else to say, then you should leave. It’s getting late, and I have a lot of work left to do around the house tomorrow. If all you came here for was to apologise  then it’s fine, I accept your apology—”

“Damn, woman, will you let me finish? I’m trying to get at something!”

“Well then, get at it faster!”

“I lied about getting over you!”

One thing I hate about this apartment is how silent it is.  In my previous apartment, at all times of the night, there would be someone making a noise, and I hated how it would disturb my sleep. Right now, there’s silence. There’s silence and then there’s us, standing in the half-dark. Jihoon looks like he wants to say something, but has been holding himself back. 

“What-what do you mean?” I say, after what seems like a lifetime, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I said that I lied about getting over you. I liked you back when I was doing my military service, and I still like you now.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I can assure you, I’m just as serious about this as I am with my work.”

“Then are you saying—”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, and I think I’ll continue liking you for a long time.”

“Jihoon, I don’t like you like that.”

“I know,” Jihoon looks pained, and for the first time in my life, I want to lie and say that no, Jihoon, I like you too, but I can’t, “look, my feelings are my own. You don’t have to reciprocate them. You and I are separate people, and I don’t want to impose my feelings on you.”

“Then why did you say all this?” my voice communicates all my frustration, “then why did you come here and tell me all this, if you didn’t want to sway me? You were the person who kept telling me to move on, and now you come here and tell me this?”

“Because I felt like I was dying!” Jihoon yells, “not talking to you, not seeing you, not being able to text you, all this made me feel like I was dying. I didn’t tell you anything because I wanted to preserve our friendship, but when I can’t see you around, my heart feels as though it’s stopped functioning. All I could think about was you.”

“Jihoon,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray my frustrations, “you don’t like me in a romantic light.”

“Don’t presume my feelings.”

“I’m not! I’m just pointing out that we have been friends for a long time, and that your feelings for me might just be you overthinking your feelings of friendship and thinking its something else when really, its just friendship. I don’t think you like me romantically, Jihoon. I think you’re just confused.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything for a long time. I would have felt better if he had cursed me, or if he had become angry, but all that remains of Jihoon right now, in this moment, is someone whose feelings are replaced with—just nothing.

Jihoon checks his watch, “look, it’s late, you should get some sleep.”

He turns around,  opening the door, and pauses for a moment before turning around. “I don’t care if you’ve stopped, or if you’re terrified of moving forward. I’ll stay there with you until you’re ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“And another thing.”

“Yes?” I ask, voice cracking in the middle of the word. This is going to haunt me in my nightmares.

“Your dream,” Jihoon says, hand on the door handle, “I’ll help you fulfil it. No matter what it takes.”

—

Seungkwan is at my door the next morning, even before I’m fully dressed, carrying a box of Jeju oranges. Even before I can open the door fully, he’s in my apartment, staring at my face. 

“My mom sent these for you, by the way,” he says, then takes a look at my face, “whoa, Sunbae, you look like you haven’t slept all night.”

“I know, I know,”  I mutter, “just had some things to think about, that’s all.”

“Think about?” Seungkwan starts to unpack my crockeries, “you look like hell. I’m not kidding, you look awful.”

“Wow, thanks, Seungkwan, that sounds like a great compliment.” I mutter, settling down into a chair, “coming into my home on a Saturday and telling me I look ugly, way to make a girl feel great.”

“I’m not being sarcastic, I’m concerned. There’s a difference.” He sits in the chair next to mine, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Seungkwan, you’re sweet, but this is something I can’t really talk about.” I mutter, “some things aren’t meant to be shared with everyone.”

And really, what can I say? ‘oh, don’t worry, Seungkwan, my best friend since university, the person with whom I haven’t been talking to for the past few weeks, came to my apartment last night to confess that he had feelings for me?’ How does one even begin that conversation? Not to mention the embarrassment that Jihoon would face if I were to ever spill the beans to the guys. He’s always been intensely private, even in his romantic affairs. To spill his secrets would just be cruel.

It's really, really not as though I haven’t received romantic confessions. There have been people who have asked me out, who have said that they liked me, from university classmates to people at work. Even in school, when all I could think about were university entrance examinations, and how I had to get into a university in Seoul because that was where my sister went too, I had a few people tell me they had feelings for me, I have had people get angry when I turned them down, I’ve had people get sad when I said, no, I’m sorry. Yet, all this feels new. What do you actually say when someone you’ve known for years, tells you that they hold feelings for you? What is the appropriate thing to say, especially if you don’t know what your own feelings are?

“You know, I grew up with three older sisters, right?”

“Yes, you keep reminding me of it every other day.”

“Yes, so,” Seungkwan leans forward, inspecting my face, “you look like you’ve got something weighing down on your mind. And while I might not be Joshua-hyung or Jihoon-hyung, I can be a pretty good listener.”

“No, I don’t think I can tell you this. It’s not my secret to tell, and even then, I don’t want to burden you with something that shouldn’t be your responsibility in the first place.”

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan asks, “does this have anything to do with Jihoon-hyung?”

I stare at him. “When did you get so fucking perceptive?”

“So, it is,” he leans back in his chair, self-satisfied and smug as hell, “I knew it. I knew he’d do something like this.”

“You knew?” I ask, and Seungkwan nods, “you knew, and you didn’t think of telling me? not even once? Not even a single heads-up?”

“And? What would we even say? ‘Jihoon-hyung likes you, please be advised he might try to confess his feelings?’ Would you have even liked it?”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” I shake my head, “really? This is something everyone knew about?”

Seungkwan nods, “I think most of us are aware of Jihoon-hyung’s feelings towards you, given how he acts.”

I hold up a hand, “Wait, pause. How he acts? What do you mean, how he acts? I’ve never seen him be anything other than perfectly normal with me.”

“That’s the problem with you,” Seungkwan clarifies, “your baseline is different when it comes to Jihoon-hyung. He treats you much more differently than he does all of us, and you’ve never noticed? Not even once?”

“No, clearly, I haven’t, Seungkwan, explain.”

Seungkwan takes a deep breath, as if trying to gather his thoughts into a proper sequence, and begins, “well, for once, he always does what you want, even if he is initially against it. With anyone else? You can’t even convince him to lift a single finger, but he drove all the way to the restaurant that one time, dropping the recording for Soonyoung’s new album. Sure, he didn’t get in trouble, but he did that just because you called.”

“He ran out of a recording session?” I have to repeat myself, because in all the years that I have known Jihoon, he’s always put his work before everything else. In university, he spent days and nights in the makeshift recording studio he had in his home, only venturing out to get food once every two days. Even his recording studio was off-limits to us, until he had finished working on a project. That Jihoon left Soonyoung in the middle of a recording session to come pick me up because I was drunk? “Should I apologise to Soonyoung?”

“The only person you should be apologising to, is me,” Seungkwan send me a dirty look that would have anyone else cringing, “I come here to help you unpack and decorate your home, and this is what I have to hear?”

“You’re a traitor. You’ve been hiding Jihoon’s feelings from me for god knows how long, and now you expect me to be nice to you? Get a grip on yourself.”

“This is,” Seungkwan wags a finger at me, “this is just shooting the messenger. You think the others haven’t kept his secret from you?”

“What? Even Jeonghan-oppa? He’s betrayed me too?”

Seungkwan smiles, “there are no allies in this stupid game you both are playing. We’ve all known about his feelings ever since he came back from the military and hung up that stupid photo of the two of you on his wall. He would have had it framed it if the quality wasn’t like it was taken on a microwave.”

I think about the picture, Jihoon with the flat cap and me beside him, flashing a wide, toothy smile. “He tried to get it framed?”

“Seungcheol-hyung had to talk him out of it, because it’s insane, having a picture of another girl framed and putting in your bedroom while you’re trying to get a girlfriend is not the best thing to do, in retrospect.”

“Ah yes, wasn’t this when he was dating the music major? The intern at the office?” I’m trying to keep my voice light, but unfortunately, I know everything about his past relationships, the serious and the casual. The girls at university, the intern he dated for a month before she dumped him, and the office worker who he dated for a year before she finally grew sick of him and left. “I don’t remember them that well.”

“Liar. You remember every detail.” Seungkwan grins, “just like Jihoon-hyung can recite the names of all your exes backwards if he wanted to, “You remember every detail about all of Jihoon-hyung’s relationships. Yes, this was when he was dating the intern, and Seungcheol-hyung pointed out that it probably would not be the best look to frame a picture of the girl your girlfriend hates, and put it in your bedroom where you could see it every morning and every night.”

“May we all thank Seungcheol-oppa for his infinite wisdom.” I say, and Seungkwan gives me a high five, “wait, she hated me? but I was nice to her! And not fake nice, which is what I generally am, I was actually nice to her!”

“She still hated you, though. There was nothing you could do about that relationship.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s the same the other way around, too. Remember when you were dating that artist who hated the idea of Jihoon-hyung being around?”

“Oh, him? I remember that. He once tore down all the pictures I had with Jihoon, insisting that I was cheating on him. in his defence, we were twenty-three, so, I don’t blame him for making bad choices.”

Seungkwan groans, “this way, it’s going to take at least a hundred years before you wake up, too. Sunbae! Have you not realised it yet, or do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Realised what?”

“That you like hyung as well? That its not just him who’s chasing, but also you?”

I scoff, “no, I don’t like Jihoon! I don’t know why you are saying this, but I don’t like Jihoon. He’s simply a friend of mine.”

“You once drove to Hwacheon in the middle of winter for his birthday.”

“That’s different! It was his birthday, he was in the military, I had to do something! Besides, he only got one day for his leave, and none of you guys could go.”

“Sunbae, driving to Hwacheon is a bit too much, don’t you think?” Seungkwan stares at me, “you’re telling me you drove through snow and went halfway to North Korea for your friend?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know!” I wail, falling onto the floor on a heap, “all I know is that I want Jihoon in my life. I can’t live without him; these past few weeks, its as though life has lost its meaning for me. I don’t find my work fun anymore; I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore. I can’t give him up.”

“I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty romantic to me.”

I narrow my eyes, “you’re just enjoying the fun, aren’t you?”

Seungkwan giggles, “and what if I tell you I am?”

“I’d kill you.”

Seungkwan says nothing, just continues to grin as though he’s watching a sitcom, or a variety show. What would a variety show based on my life look like? Something like I Live Alone, but entirely for people struggling with romance problems; if I worked in a bigger broadcasting company,  I would have pitched this idea. People would get on there, and just talk about their romance problems.

“Sunbae—no, noona.”

Seungkwan calling me by the familiar honorific catches my attention. Since I have known him, Seungkwan has never once referred to me in that familiar a tone, always with the more respectful sunbae, reserved for departmental seniors. Especially since joining the news desk, he has refused to call me anything but. It gives me a sense of respect, obviously, but it also seems as though he has always kept me at arm’s length.

“You’re being familiar with me, Seungkwan,” I say, “what’s happened?”

He sits next to me on the floor, staring at me, “noona, have you ever really done anything for yourself?”

I give him a look. “What do you mean, if I have done anything for myself? Everything I do is for myself; I think we’ve established that. If you made a list of the most selfish people you know, I would probably rank top five in there.”

“That’s what you think. You always keep talking about how you’re doing things for yourself, but in reality, all you do, is based on the needs of others.”

“I think you’re trying to make me into a martyr, Seungkwan, when all I have done is be a selfish person.”

“I also think that you consider yourself to be a selfish person because that’s what you’ve been taught to believe.”

“Seungkwan,” I say, mildly, “look at the society we live in. its either hyper individualistic, or it’s based on outdated systems of collective identity; either way, I’m not actually doing anything I want to do myself. It is all things I’ve been taught. How to be, how to act, how to think.”

“And that isn’t wrong, per se, but you have to think, at some point, that your existence is based on how others think of you. Even with Jihoon-hyung, you’re just going off of what we might think of you, what he might think of you. Have you even figured out your own feelings?”

“And what if we break up? What if I say to Jihoon, that yes, I’d like to date you too, but we break up soon? Within one month, two months? I’m terrified of losing him, to the point where I’m happy to be his friend just to keep him in my life. Why else do you think I rejected him?”

“You rejected him?” Seungkwan screeches, “noona, you’re in love with him, and you rejected him?”

“Being friends with him is more important to me than being his girlfriend,” I say, “to be his girlfriend is something I don’t want to imagine.”

“Because you don’t want to be his girlfriend, or because you don’t want to get your hopes up?”

I groan, lying back down on the floor, “I don’t know, and I don’t want to think about it either.”

Seungkwan smiles, “hey maybe, you should try and think about what you want to do, before doing what everyone else expects of you. Even if that’s what you are going to end up doing anyway, maybe, you should at least be aware of what you want.”

—

On Monday, I walk into the office with my eyes bloodshot, and dark circles underneath them, ten minutes after the team meeting has begun. Both the Editor and the Assistant Editor take one look at my face and decide not to tell me anything for showing up late to the meeting.

“We were talking about your column, Sunbae,” Haewon says as I nurse my coffee, “the readers loved it. We’ve been getting so many responses and letters to the office after you began the column.”

“We are?” I ask, “who the hell is screening through the letters, then?”

“I am,” the Assistant Editor says, “I figured you didn’t need one more thing on your plate, and I sorted out whatever you had to. For the first time in a long while, we have fan mail coming to the office.”

“Huh?” I catch the last part of that sentence, “we have fan mail?”

“Yes, and a lot of it, too,” the Assistant editor smiles at me, “at this rate, we might start a radio show if we have the funds for it.”

“We’ll never have the funds for it,” I wave a hand, “having a radio show is out of the question.”

“Still, it seems nice that the desk is getting a lot of other attention too, other than doing book reviews and movie reviews.” The editor says.

“You do realise, all this is coming at the expense of my sleep?” I grumble, “this is the worst idea you could ever have. A radio show? I can barely talk to people. You want me to go on a show and talk to people in real-time?”

“Yes, yes, which is why we are not thinking about it,” the Editor clarifies, “you just need to continue writing the column as you have been. That much is enough for the desk.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sunbae,” Seungkwan slides an energy drink towards me, “it’s enough for the desk if you just do things as they come by. No one is asking you to do more than what’s required.”

“You say that now, Seungkwan, but pretty soon they’ll be asking favours from you, too.” I smile at him, “don’t let anyone walk over you here. Its difficult to stop them once you’ve begun letting them have their way.”

During lunch break, Seungkwan sidles up to me in the cafeteria, where the members of the desk have congregated (on news of them serving galbi-tang), and asks, “Sunbae, have you finished moving in? Jeonghan-hyung wanted me to invite you to a party this weekend.”

“Why didn’t he invite me himself?” I ask through a mouthful of beef, “has he lost my number?”

“No, he’ll probably invite you personally, but he wanted me to tell you beforehand.”

I narrow my eyebrows, “what am I, some sort of minister? Why are there levels of protocol when approaching me for an event?”

Seungkwan shrugs, “you know how Jeonghan-hyung is. You once told him you were uncomfortable at a party, and he’s taken that to heart ever since.”

I roll my eyes. The party in question was one thrown in the first year of university, after appropriate introductions had been made, and me and Jihoon had been invited out to a party by Joshua and his friends, where I got blind drunk and regretted it the next morning. Ever since that night, the boys have been particular about when to invite me out, none more so than Jeonghan, who apparently vetted all his invitations through Seungkwan, “tell him I’ll be there. And from now on, don’t let him vet his applications through you. If he wants to invite me out, he can call me himself. I don’t mind.”

“You do realise, if I relay your message verbatim to hyung, he’s going to be even more cautious of you?”

“Well, I’ll tell him myself, then.”

“Don’t tell him.”

I stare at Seungkwan, who looks serious, “really, sunbae, let other people care about you once in a while. Jeonghan-hyung is only mindful of your boundaries because he doesn’t want to overstep. He doesn’t see you as a burden, or as someone he needs to treat with kid gloves for the rest of his life.”

“Well, doesn’t matter what he thinks. If he continues to treat me like I’m a child, others might get annoyed with his actions.”

“Others? You mean the people that respect you and are cognizant of your boundaries and your shortcomings?” Seungkwan places a piece of meat in my rice bowl, I’m almost done with eating, “sunbae, people that make accommodations for you aren’t doing it because they secretly hate you, or that they’re bothered by your presence in events. They’re doing it because they want you to be there, and they like you enough to go out of their way to make a place for you at the table.”

“Seungkwan, this is much more complicated than that.”

“I don’t see why it has to be so complicated,” he says, standing up, “you keep being kind to people, but when they want to extend that same kindness to you, you reject it, saying its excessive. Aren’t you hurting yourself in the long run?”

“Seungkwan,” I hold my head in my hands, “I can’t just change my way of thinking.”

“Yes, I know,” he shakes his head, “just that—you should try at least.”

—

When I enter my apartment that evening, there’s a cloud hanging over my head. Its not simply the absence of Jihoon, but also Seungkwan’s words. To think that I haven’t been trying to accept the attentions of people, well, why am I trying to deny it? its correct.

My phone rings, and I pick it up without even checking the caller ID, “hello?”

“I had to hear from Jihoon that you had moved.”

I sigh. This is the last think I wanted to do at this moment, have a conversation with my mother, “sorry, I didn’t have a lot of opportunities to talk to anyone. I was too busy with work these past few weeks.”

“Still, it would have been nice to know that you moved, from you, and not from Jihoon.”

“Wait, mom, why—why are you talking to Jihoon instead of me?”

My mother laughs on the other end. It’s a nice thing, to hear her laugh, “because Jihoon, no, not just him, all of your friends call me more than you do. Jihoon even came by our house a few weeks ago, and had a meal with us.”

I sigh, “really, Jihoon—he’s going to piss me off at this rate.”

“No, don’t take out your frustrations on Jihoon. He’s a nice boy.”

I wonder how my mother would react if I told her that her ‘nice boy’ stormed into my apartment and told me he was in love with me ever since he went for his military service. She would probably jump with joy. “Sorry, mom,” I say, hoping my thoughts aren’t seeping into my voice, “I just started a new column at work.”

“Really? That’s so nice, I hope they aren’t overworking you.”

“No, mom, they’re not. I came home right on time today.”

“That’s good.” She says. I say nothing. What else is there to say? For someone who’s been alienated form their family for so long, all that remains is a string of hollow formalities and conversations that die out in a moment.

“How’s my sister?” I ask, in an effort to continue the conversation, “has she talked to you recently?”

My mother perks right up, “have I told you, your sister is getting married? She’s marrying Yong-Hwa in the spring. Has she not told you yet?”

In fact, my sister had told me, had told me how she was getting married to the love of her life, a prosecutor, and how she was envisioning the rest of her life with him, with children, a happy home, and more. It made me jealous; to see someone achieve their dreams when you are struggling with your own is not an easy thing.

“I heard,” I say, “how’s dad? Are his health problems persisting? Should I send more vitamins?”

“No, no, he’s perfectly fine. He’s still working as a lawyer, even though the doctor has told him not to. He says he’ll continue to work till he’s eighty.”

“Hah…dealing with father is tiring, isn’t it?” I groan, “I’ll come down the next time I get some time off. I’ll talk him into retiring properly.”

“You don’t have to do that,” my mother says, “knowing that you’re working hard is good enough for me, at least, this way, I can think that you’re doing well.”

“That’s good, then,” I reply, “sorry, mom, I’m getting another call. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, but don’t go for too long without talking to us.”

This is fine. To know that my parents are doing well, its okay. I can hold on for longer if that’s what helps them. I’ll be the daughter they’re proud of.

—

I’ve been wandering for far too long. Always trying to be the best version of myself. But what lies at the end of this journey? Is it just a means of fulfilling my parents’ wishes?

On most days, I want to be alone. So, I push people away, just to benefit myself. It has got nothing to do with how I feel about them, it’s just how I feel most at ease. I’ve always been on my own, its just easier. Its easier to be the person people relied on, instead of the person who had to rely on others. But just for once, I’d like someone to tell me that it will be okay. It will be okay to break down, that it will be okay if I fail. My life has been so barren, that even trying to do anything otherwise is too much. For so long I’ve been someone whose life has been dictated by the wishes of others, that I fear I wont even be able to live well if I decided to live by my own.

What does it mean, to have a dream? I had a letter sent to me, saying that their dream is to find happiness on their own. Well, happiness is something that comes after a long time. I’m searching for it too, but I hope you find it, sincerely. To walk towards happiness isn’t something that’s easy. But I appreciate you for taking that step. To walk towards what you want. What you need.

There’s another letter, that says, ‘I don’t have a dream yet’. Don’t worry, a dream isn’t something that’s complicated. They aren’t supposed to be; you’re supposed to find something that makes you happy, that makes you want to live again. That’s all. that is all there is to a dream. All around us, people are living day to day, they’re living without finding what makes them happy. I hope it finds you soon.

I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to find something that gives me purpose. The way I’m living now, it’s enough for me, to live an average existence, to live in a way that gives me peace, if not happiness.

What happens when that peace is taken away, too?

—

Jeonghan throws good parties. That’s a given. It’s not as though he invites many people, or that his parties are a riot of good fun, but he always makes people feel at ease, if not with his actions, then with his words. Its who he is. A source of constant comfort, that I feel guilty for trying to take advantage of.

I arrive at his house after finishing work with a bottle of wine, hesitating before I press the doorbell. Jeonghan lives in a house in the middle of Seoul that he got for dirt cheap because the people who lived in there were violently murdered in the early ‘00s, a fact that I had asked him about once, and he had simply brushed it of by saying that if there were ghosts, he would befriend them. I’d given up on asking him after that one exchange.

The door opens within ten seconds of me ringing the doorbell, and Jeonghan greets me with a wide smile, “I thought you wouldn’t come! Can I give you a hug?”

I nod, “I told you I would be there,” but the rest of my sentence is drowned out by Jeonghan enveloping me into a large hug. He smells like an expensive perfume, mixed with the familiar smell of chicken and beer. Ah, so its that kind of party.

“Make yourself at home, the rest of them already have.” He says, ushering me into the living room, “the rest of the boys are already here. We were just waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?”

“Because, my dear writer, you’ve always turned down any invites for parties for five years now. Now that you’ve accepted my invite, you’re the star of this gathering.”

I don’t say anything, but my discomfort must have shown on my face, because he suddenly stops me, “hey, just so you know, I meant that as a joke. Seungcheol just got a big promotion at work, so he’s been bragging about that for an hour now. I doubt anyone will pay attention to you.”

“That’s nice.”

All around the low table, there are cans of beer, snacks, and boxes of fried chicken. Jeonghan must have prepared for a lot of people to come. Seungcheol is talking about his job, how he was now the team manager of marketing, and how happy it made him, to have so much responsibility at such a young age. There’s Chan, Vernon, and Seungkwan, gossiping about their respective fields of work, and Mingyu is sleeping on the end of the table, while Minghao and Wonwoo talk about how work has been nowadays. Jun is noticeably missing from the group, but I can see him in the kitchen, making himself another drink, and then, there’s Jihoon. Seated between Joshua and Seokmin, talking about something I can’t hear. I stand still in my tracks, unable to move. What do I say? After rejecting him so painfully, what do I say? I’m sorry, Jihoon? Sorry about what? Sorry about not being able to accept genuine affection in the fears that it might ruin the one good thing I have for myself?

“Aren’t you going to sit?” Jeonghan asks, gesturing to a seat beside Jihoon, “I thought you would be more comfortable if you sat beside Jihoon, since you’ve known him for longer.”

In fact, I’d rather sit anywhere other than beside Jihoon, but I take the seat next to him gingerly, and Seokmin eagerly moves over. Seokmin is like a child, eager, soft around the edges, and someone you want to protect, no matter what. Maybe if I could look into people’s minds, Seokmin’s would be pure, devoid of any harshness of the world; is that why I tried to protect him even when I had no right to?

“Noona,” Seokmin giggles, “have I told you about the play I’m performing in? I’ll give you a ticket, so you have to come, okay?”

His energy is so infectious, I can’t help but smile with him, “of course, I’ll come to see you.”

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks, his voice so quiet I barely miss it, “you don’t really come to occasions like these.”

“Felt like it,” I mutter, “new year, new me, or should I say new apartment, new me?”

Jihoon laughs, “yeah, you seem like you’ve changed. Your hands are shaking.”

I look down at my hands, and true enough, they’re shaking. Whether from nervousness or something else entirely, I don’t know, but they’re shaking. I ball my hands into fists. Whatever happens, don’t let anyone know what you’re going through. “just tired, perhaps.”

“You have been working too much,” Joshua pipes up, “you never reply to any of my texts anymore.”

“That’s because you keep asking me about flower arrangements,” I reply, “why would I look at flowers when I can’t smell them?”

“Sunbae is very busy at the news desk,” Seungkwan pipes up, “did you know, she has a new co—”

“Shut up, Seungkwan,” I  mutter, reaching over to stuff a chicken leg in his mouth, “the work has been just harder these few days.”

Jihoon stares at me; it’s the same look he has in his eyes whenever he’s landed on something to probe, and sure enough, he asks, “why? What’s going on at the office?”

“Nothing!” I say, far too quick for it to even go past Seokmin or Joshua, (whom everyone, not just me, have deemed as the most scammable) “its nothing! Seungkwan just wanted to brag about his workload to everyone else.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?” Vernon asks, but is largely ignored by Jeonghan (my angel prince saviour Jeonghan) who arrives with drinks, a grumpy Jun in tow, announcing, “who wants shots!” and despite pushing thirty, Seungcheol, who had paused bragging about his work promotion, raised his hands, grabbing one of the shot glasses. Even Mingyu wakes up from his nap, raising his hand in the air and grabbing one of the shot glasses. They’re all going to regret it, I think to myself, then, feeling Jihoon’s eyes on me, grab a couple of the shot glasses myself. The drink is sugary, and multicoloured (Jun once wanted to be a bartender in university). It goes down far smoother than expected, since I’ve had Jun’s drinks since university, and they have tasted like battery acid far too many times for me to expect something nice out of his concoctions.

“This is actually nice,” Chan says, “hyung, what did you put in this?”

“Won’t be telling you,” Jun pulls a face, “you’ll just make it for other people and then take credit for it.”

Of course, this ensues in a squabble, with Chan loudly protesting that he would never do that to his beloved Jun-hyung (he would, I know) and Jun proclaiming that Chan is nothing but a dirty jerk who wants to put his grubby little hands, on Jun’s hard work and his creation (most likely, it was from a Reddit forum on bartending). One by one, the rest of them enter the argument, and I lean back into my seat, laughing at their antics. Its always chaos when I meet the boys, but somehow, its also peaceful. They’re loud, boisterous, and from whatever pictures Joshua and Jihoon had shared from their one shared ‘boys’ trip’, dirty as hell (these people laid out a carpet of towels instead of just drying their feet) but they know how to put someone’s mind at ease. Or at least, my mind at ease. I don’t know about others.

Its almost two in the morning when they quiet down. Jeonghan might have bought this house because it was dirt cheap and he wanted to make friends with the ghosts, but this house has one of the most gorgeous verandas I’ve ever seen. It looks out onto a peaceful Seoul street, and in the middle of the night, there’s no one here to complain if I smoke a cigarette.

I light one up, letting out a puff of air as I sit down on the marble flooring. It has been a long time since I smoked a cigarette (three days), and some of the smoke goes into my eyes when I let it out of my lungs. Its not enough to make me cough, but my eyes water nonetheless.

“You can smoke inside, if you want.” Jeonghan appears at the corner of my field of vision, “in fact, I think Minghao is smoking one right now.”

“Just wanted to get away from the noise a little,” I say, shaking the cigarette, “want to sit beside me?”

He shrugs, but crosses his legs and sits beside me on the marble flooring anyway.

After barely a minute, he turns to me, and without any warning, says, “so, has Jihoon told you he’s in love with you?”

I start coughing. Big, hacking coughs, and he just stares at me while I recover. I cannot believe I called him my saviour. “What—what do you mean?”

Jeonghan, the irritating bastard, still has that same, serene smile on his face, “you can’t possibly think that we all spent the last few years with our eyes closed now, have you? We’ve all known about Jihoon’s feelings for you, and now that you’re here, I can see that its reciprocated.”

“Wha-how are you even making these assumptions? I don’t have any feelings for him!” I whisper, “and yes, I know about his feelings. Even if they caught me somewhat by surprise, I’m aware of what kind of feelings he has for me.”

“And?” he leans close, “how does that make you feel?”

“How should it make you feel? I feel worried.”

“Worried?” he pulls a face, “if you wanted to get him off of your back, you’d say something like ‘I feel uncomfortable’, but you aren’t, because you don’t really feel uncomfortable, do you?”

I stare at him, fuck Jeonghan and his perceptive nature. “it’s not that I don’t feel uncomfortable, I just-don’t see the point in his confession.”

“Why? Why would a mere confession have you feeling this way? If you don’t want to accept it, then just say so. No one here,” Jeonghan points to the room, “will fault you for that. In fact, I think they’ll all commend you for it. Jihoon can be a tad bit difficult at times.”

I scoff, “he’s not difficult, he’s just—Jihoon.”

Jeonghan laughs, “see, I knew it. I knew there was something else there that you weren’t letting on. Now, come on, tell me,” and then spreads his arms wide, “tell oppa what’s bothering you.”

“If you refer to yourself as oppa again, I might have to kill you.”

This time, he laughs loud enough for people to hear inside, “fine, fine. I won’t be doing that anymore. But tell me, my dear writer, have you never thought about it? even once?”

I shrug, “of course I have. Everyone has those kinds of thoughts once in a while, I’m no different from the others, of course I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

I shake my head, “nothing good will ever come out of it, because it’s a fifty-fifty chance. We either stick together until the end of time, or we break up and I can’t interact with him ever again.”

“So, you’d prefer to not try at all.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long time, and then finally, shrugs, “it’s your choice. If you don’t want to do something, then you shouldn’t force yourself to. But can I tell you something?”

“Yes?”

“When did he say that he started having feelings for you?”

I think for a moment, “since his military service.”

Jeonghan grins, sly, just the way I know his smile works, “As someone who’s seen Jihoon since his university days, I can tell you something. He’s got it wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yes. He’s liked you since the day you walked into his life. There has been no moment in time when he was not in love with you. He might have realised it late in life, but he’s always been in love with you.”

I stare. Jeonghan isn’t the kind of person who makes random statements, so for him to say this, its strange. Jihoon has been in love with me ever since the first day? but that doesn’t make sense. “You do realise he’s dated other people too, while he was friends with me?”

“Of course, I know that. Both you and him have been running away from your actual feelings, but that doesn’t make it any more apparent that you have both been in love with each other since the day you met. Or at least, it has been that way for Jihoon.”

With that, Jeonghan stands up, dusting off his trousers, “there’s a guest bedroom in there for you. If you’re tired, just go inside and sleep.”

I look inside, where Chan is currently trying to balance a beer can on his forehead, “and the rest of them?”

“The rest of them can sleep on the couch,” he says, “it’s the least they can do after creating such a ruckus in my own home.”

“But you invited them.”

There’s a slightly evil glint in his eyes as he says, “yes, yes I did.”

—

The next morning, I wake up to people talking all over themselves, and the smell of pancakes wafting in the air. That has got to be Joshua. After cleaning up in the attached bathroom, I walk out of the guest bedroom, coming face-to-face with Jun, who’s carrying in his hands a very large tray, heaped with pancakes and a singular glass of milk.

“Is this for me?” I ask, and he nods, gesturing towards the kitchen, where Joshua is busy cooking a meal for thirteen people. Or fourteen, if you count me.

“Sorry, I can’t have breakfast right now,” I sidestep past him, and Jun follows me out into the kitchen, “sorry, but I have to leave right now.”

“Without having breakfast?” Jun asks, setting the tray down, where Chan promptly picks one up and stuffs it into his face, “you should have something at least.”

“Had too much to drink last night,” I offer up as a feeble excuse, avoiding Jihoon’s gaze. It’s strange, piercing in a way that I am not really used to, “I should probably get going. There’s still so much to be done in my apartment.”

“Speaking of apartments,” Wonwoo speaks through a mouthful of pancake, “when are you going to call us all over?”

“As soon as I can,” I reply, “I’ll host a potluck. You all can bring a dish, and it’ll be a party.”

“Instead of that, just make Mingyu cook,” Soonyoung grins, “he’ll be eager to help if it involves you. And cooking. But mostly, you.”

I open my mouth to say something, but Jihoon stands up, slipping on his stupid khaki jacket, “here, I’ll give you a ride. Come on, then.”

“Ah but hyung, you still have so much on your plate—” Chan is promptly cut off in the middle of his sentence by a swift elbow to the ribs by Seungkwan, “hyung! Why the hell did you do that?”

Jihoon ignores the squabble currently breaking out at the dining table, and stares at me, his car keys dangling from his left hand, “want to come?”

Before I can say anything to accept the offer of a ride, Soonyoung raises a hand, “Jihoon, weren’t you supposed to meet the other producers and sound engineers today? I’m supposed to be there too, but will you not be attending?”

Even though Jeonghan hisses at Soonyoung to shut up, I can already see the cogs in Jihoon’s mind turning. Clearly, he wanted to talk to me, or at least, he wanted to make an effort to talk to me, “I’ll take a taxi, then.” I say, trying to make an excuse for myself, “don’t worry, Jihoon, you don’t have to drop me home.”

“No, I can drop you off and then go to the office,” he begins, but Joshua cuts him off (while wearing a Rilakkuma apron) saying, “can’t Mingyu take her home? He’s going in the same direction as her, so he can drop her easily. You don’t have to overexert yourself and drop her off at the apartment when you’re going in the opposite direction.”

While not one to turn down a free ride, I raise my hand to complain that I don’t need to take Mingyu’s car to go back home, but Mingyu walks into the room at that moment, and before I can say anything, Joshua turns to him, saying, “are you going back home right now?”

“Yes, hyung, I’m off for the weekend since Minghao is handling the meetings this time around,” he says brightly, “I can drop her off!”

“That’s settled, then,” Chan announces, “Jihoon-hyung can take Soonyoung to the company.”

“You brat,” Soonyoung scowls, “why is Jihoon hyung and I’m just Soonyoung? Do you have no respect for your elders?”

“I once saw you vomit into a flowerpot,” Chan says, “at that moment, you lost all respect in my eyes.”

Before another scuffle can break out over breakfast, Mingyu says loudly, “I’m leaving then!”

—

I’m a big fan of travelling in silence. Even if it is with someone I like, I prefer to sit in silence and contemplate, instead of chattering on about my life. That’s a lie. Mingyu chatters on and on about the new collection and how its selling better than he or Minghao expected, “This is such great news for a fashion brand that was launched less than a decade ago, noona,” he says, while driving his fancy car, and I sit still in my seat and pray that he hasn’t noticed the awkwardness between me and Jihoon. I don’t expect him to notice, either. Mingyu might be nice and well-meaning, but he’s also painfully oblivious.

Which is why it takes me by surprise when he turns to me, while the car is halted at a stop sign, and says, “so, have you figured out what to tell Jihoon-hyung yet?”

I cough, “how-how did you know about that?”

Mingyu laughs, “you think we all were unaware of how he feels towards you? Pfft. Noona, we’ve been observing him since he was in university. He’s always been gone for you.”

I stare resolutely out of the window, “you’re evidently kidding.”

“Noona. He used to stay up with you when you had exams, he used to make sure you weren’t dead when you used to hibernate for long periods of time, he even had a space for you in the stupid apartment studio, are you seriously telling me you had no idea that he was in love with you all this while?”

“Of course, I didn’t!” I want to scream and tear out my hair in frustration, “of course not! I thought he was just looking out for me because I was his only female friend, and after university, I thought to myself, that this is how he usually is! Why would I think that he’s in love with me?”

“Well, he thought that it would be enough to impress you.”

“We were twenty-two! I thought he was an immature weirdo who had no idea how to maintain female friendships!”

“Yes, he’s usually like that,” Mingyu resumes driving, “but he’s got degrees of being familiar.”

“I know. Jihoon’s like a cat. He approaches you at his own pace. Doing anything else will just push him off.”

Mingyu laughs, “you know what, noona, I think you’re a lot like a cat too.”

“Kim Mingyu, watch what you’re saying.”

He grins, “you know I’m correct.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to say it this way.”

“The way I see it,” he says, slowing down as the car turns into the parking lot of the apartment, “you’ve always approached people at your own pace too. Seokmin and I were overenthusiastic when meeting you for the first time, and you refused to even acknowledge me for the rest of the semester.”

“Sorry about that, really.”

“We didn’t mind then, and we don’t mind now,” he shrugs, “its just who you are. And to accept the kind of person that one is, and then to continue caring for them, yeah, that’s love.”

“Jihoon’s just my friend,” I say, getting out of the car, “he’s just my friend, nothing more.”

“Noona, the fact that you keep repeating this to all of us, makes me wonder who it is that you’re trying to convince. Is it me, the rest of us, Jihoon-hyung, or yourself?”

“Kim Mingyu,” I warn, “you’re overstepping.”

“Sorry, noona, but I have to ask,” he walks into the elevator after me, “have you always seen him as a friend, and nothing more? I saw how you used to, no, how you still treat him differently than the rest of us. You’ve always had a soft spot where he was concerned. In fact, you still do, and you’re hiding it.”

“Drop it, Mingyu. You have no idea what happened the last time I said anything about this.”

The elevator dings, opening onto our floor, and Mingyu steps out right behind me, “Then tell us, noona. We, all of us, Jihoon-hyung, everyone around you—we are stumbling around in the dark because you’ve been so closed off about your past.”

I shake my head, pressing the keys in the keypad lock, “maybe, you shouldn’t be knowing about this one, Mingyu.”

The door closes behind me with an audible click, and even without pressing an eye to the keyhole, I know Mingyu is still standing in front of my door, deliberating over whether or not to knock. In the end, his loyalty wins over his curiosity; he walks away, over to his own apartment.

I sink into a heap at the doorway. What do I do? I know I’ve told Jihoon to ignore the confession and be exactly as we were before, but that is not possible anymore, now that I know how he feels towards me. every interaction I have with him will be grappling with this same truth, and I’ll always be wondering about how he feels towards me.

Out of habit, I pull my phone out of my pocket, swiping through messages and emails, when one of them catches my eye. It’s a simple, single-line message.

Read your column. I know its anonymous, but I know how you write.

—Sungwon

How bad is rock bottom? Is it possible to go below that? I have to remind myself to breathe, as I slowly collect myself from the floor, and go about the rest of my morning. Of course, I shouldn’t think about the people who have left me behind. It’s a disservice to myself. I’ve spent enough time and money in therapy to know that. But what happens when the past refuses to let go of you?

I dial the first number I can get my hands on. After three rings, Jeonghan picks up, his cheerful voice filling the line, “hi! Did you reach home already? Did Mingyu crash the car?”

“Oppa.” I say, “you have to listen to me carefully.”

“Why?” Jeonghan’s voice, so cheerful moments before, has been filled with anxiety, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, even as Jihoon’s voice floats over the line, yelling is she okay? “don’t let Jihoon know anything’s happened, please.”

“Yes, you reached fine?” Jeonghan says, voice nonchalant, “okay, I’m in another room, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Jeonghan-oppa.” It’s taking all  have to not break into sobs, “I once told a friend, that I liked them.”

“Okay, and?” his voice is kind, so kind, that it drowns out the other voices in my mind saying you don’t deserve this, “what happened?”

“He said—he told me that I’d ruined our friendship, and he never talked to me after that.”

“Oh, oh no, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry to hear that. What else can I say, that will help you feel better?”

“Just—hear me out, for now,” I continue, “and he’s never contacted me, but all of a sudden, he sent me an email last night.”

“What did he say in the email?”

“That he’s been following my writing. I don’t understand, how is it easy for people to be like this when they’ve hurt someone else?”

“Are you afraid Jihoon is going to break off all contact with you, and then email you years later like some kind of pathetic loser?” he scoffs, “if he did that, I would be first in line to break his legs.”

“No, I’m afraid I’m going to be that person to Jihoon,” I sob, “I think I’m going to hurt him and leave him behind, and that I’ll be the person to deal him that cruel hand.”

The line is silent on the other end.

“Jeonghan? Are you there?” I ask.

“It’s me.” Jihoon’s voice sounds rough around the edges, as though he’s been crying, “I heard everything.”

“Jihoon.” I plead, “please don’t do anything that’ll hurt you.”

“I’m coming over in ten minutes,” he mutters, hanging up.

And it’s done. Over. Fuck. I’ve thrown away years of friendship because I didn’t want to accept my own emotions and grow beyond the scared girl I was as a child.

I want to cry, but even that effort is too much for me, sinking down into a heap in the middle of my living room, listening to the sounds of the wall clock ticking down every second.

Even before ten minutes are up, the keypad beeps, before the door opens to reveal a very windswept Jihoon.

“How did you know my password?” is the only thing I can say to him.

He rolls his eyes, “you use the same password as my studio. Of course, I know your password.”

“Fair.”

Jihoon stares at me for a beat, then takes a deep breath, before kneeling down on the floor beside me, “I overheard everything.”

“I’m going to curse Jeonghan and his high-volume phone,” I mutter, “I told him to keep it a secret.”

“To be fair, he was only protecting you.” Jihoon laughs, “he didn’t know I was more persistent than he could ever imagine.”

I shoot him a dirty look. Jihoon sighs, “look, I know, the way I said things to you, wasn’t the most ideal—”

“They were horrible, actually,” I cut in, “you yelled at me that you loved me, and then you left.”

“—man, just let me finish,” Jihoon says, without any real spite, “but I wanted to tell you, that my feelings still haven’t, and will not in the future, affect the way I see you. I’ve always been proud to call you my friend, even if you keep secrets from me.”

“I don’t keep that many secrets.” I mutter.

“Really? Then what about the whole anonymous column thing?”

“You knew about that?”

Jihoon scoffs, “I’ve seen you write since the beginning of university. I know how you write better than anyone else, of course, I knew it was you.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m respectful.”

I scowl, “continue.”

“I just wanted to say that even if you wanted to push me away, you can’t,” Jihoon says, smug smile on his face, “I’m impossible to get rid of.”

“You’re not selling yourself very well.”

“You still haven’t given me an answer to my confession.”

“Look, Jihoon, it would never work,” I say, turning away from him, “we know too much about each other. We’ve seen each other’s worst moments. And what if we break up? Who’s going to tell the rest of the boys that we no longer have the same dynamic that we used to have and that its going to be different around us? They have the tact of a bull; you know how they are going to be.”

“That’s them,” he replies, “I’m asking about you. I want to know what you think.”

I sigh. Jihoon’s face is remarkably close to me; from here I can make out the tiny little freckles he has, and the way his eyes are shining, “I’m scared.”

His skin is so soft under my touch, has he always been this way? Jihoon leans into my touch as if he’s never felt anything like this, “scared of what?”

“That I’ll like you too much. That once I take a step forward, it’ll be too difficult to restrain myself again.”

Jihoon laughs, the tip of his nose touching mine, “one step forward, is okay. It’s allowed.”

“Are you quoting Crash Landing on You?” I laugh, even as his lips touch mine.

Kissing Jihoon is an experience; his skin feels soft under my touch, but his lips are insistent against mine, demanding and reverent alternatively, as though he can’t believe his luck that he’s kissing me, or that this is a dream, and what he needs to do is possess it, and then, this memory of a moment will be forever engraved in his heart. My hands go to the back of his neck, where his hair is softer than usual—has he washed it—but all I can feel, under my fingers, is how his heart beats, quicker than I’ve ever imagined it to be, and how it mirrors my own.

I don’t want this moment to end.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

i saw a fascinating post on xhs the other day where someone asked if dyslexia exists in chinese since it's not a latin based language. my gut instinct was to say of course it does because it's a language based disorder not a latin based disorder but then a lot of people said they've never heard dyslexia being discussed in china so i guess i was wondering if you know anything about it? idk if you're dyslexic but you seem to be fairly in the know about chinese culture so it can't hurt to ask i guess

oooooo boy welcome to whole rabbit hole AKA same rabbit whole am went down earlier january (2nd link heavy tw ableism)

don’t quote me but! from what read is. bc english be letter based latin alphabet language, n chinese be “logographic” (had to look word up but basically like. characters), very different form right? so process these different language different in brain somewhat (apparently?). which mean english dyslexia & chinese dyslexia actually different! like u can be more severe chinese dyslexic but milder english dyslexic, or even only chinese dyslexic but not english dyslexic, or vice versa!

n like even how dyslexia present itself may be different! like for example DSM 5 say “In the English language, the observable hallmark clinical symptom of difficulties learning to read is inaccurate and slow reading of single words; in other alphabetic languages that have more direct mapping between sounds and letters (e.g., Spanish, Ger-man) and in non-alphabetic languages (e.g., Chinese, Japanese), the hallmark feature is slow but accurate reading.”

n we not know much abt dyslexia in chinese n why can be so different across language. very understudied

so all sign n symptom u read abt dyslexia all be study on english (n maybe some other similar letter language) that may.. or may not… still apply or show up same way when talk about language that look n work drastic different

not dyslexia researcher! so these what be told so always double check

& when people say “dyslexia not exist in chinese” (misinformation btw) of course there part of chinese/characters vs english/latin aphabet letters part but beyond that there also element of. similar to how people may say “autism not exist/rarer in china” - it understudied by english-language research people bc sinophobia n western-centric & it ignored by majority chinese people bc ableism (ppl not care), not that it actually not exist